Once upon a time, in a far away land, there was Clementine. I’ve been told that there are six people, anywhere, who might spend this day without thinking of Clementine. So if you are one of those six, then don’t skip this declamation. It might just remind you and haunt you that you are still alone strictly in terms of endearment.
Well yes, it’s that special time of year when chocolate manufacturers, florists and greetings card companies encourage you to demonstrate the extent of your fondness. The association of the middle of February with love and fertility dates to ancient times. Why do we need one day in February of the whole year to be so special? Isn’t affection — like most other human emotions — life-long, ever-lasting, time-less …? Hasn’t this day become largely unimaginative, consumerist-oriented and manipulative? Such a shallow interpretation, by yours truely. Might be exuberant. But its ok, I didn’t need that particular ventricle anyway. So take it away if you fancy it but keep it safe, don’t lend it and kindly return it without damage when you are done. That’s my hollow rhythmic locus I’m talking about, located behind the sternum and between the lungs, from what I can recollect last. Because, like a child it feels things my eye cannot see. Adamant, as it is, it refuses to grow up. I keep learning to crawl, even though I can walk.
Caravaggi’ painting “Amor Vincit Omnia” (Love Triumphant or Earthly Love) depicts what my dear friends might say a “fat, naked and dangerous” fella’ — named Amor or the Roman Cupid. And yet, this kind of a certainty comes once in a life-time. But why don’t we ever ponder empathy on the graceful “Psyche“, Cupid’s love interest. Has she lost her magic? I double-doubt that, and staring at the ceiling doesn’t help me see beyond the glass roof. Somehow, glass is as funny as a heart. The broken pieces may be fastidiously glued together, only to make the lines of separation more apparent. The same piece of transparency, in the form of a lens, can bend light, but the lines of separation are not apparent any more. Shadows are flawless. Expediting the unexplored proves my point with a mesa.
Some snappy imagery taken from the orbiter camera surveying Mars around Valentines Day 2000 (and then in 2004). Said to be – Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus, or are we just lost in space — seeking directions. Hey you green creatures excavating on the red planet, it ain’t funny anymore alright — so get done with your artistic endeavor. Who on earth would draw a heart the size of a farm? Message for humanity, or maybe just me calling out for you — try hear it because its not so loud yet, but my darling Clementine, you know I don’t make promises I don’t intend to keep.
Milta hai yahan sab kuchh ik milta nahin dil
Insaan ka nahin kahin naam-o-nishaan
Aye dil hai mushkil jeena yahan
Zara hat ke zara bach ke …