Choice of solitude and loneliness

I am not sure if I have dealt with this topic before, I have always thought about the difference between loneliness and solitude. Both mean nearly the same. Both imply a state of not being in the presence of other people. They both mean that one is alone, physically. Even though they mean almost the same, the key word almost gives them a subtle difference or so it seems.

As far as I understand the word, loneliness is when one is not in the presence of others as a compulsion. To mean, given a choice one will not choose to be alone. One would prefer to be in the company of others and therefore feel better to be a part of the group, a group, any group, as long they are not alone.

On the other hand, solitude is sought by someone. They do not want to be in the presence of others and given a choice, they would rather be by themselves.

There are some that talk about solitude in company, being that even when they are in the company of others, they are in solitude, as they do not let the others affect them. There are some on the other hand who talk about loneliness in a crowd, being that they are not able to identify with the company they are in and therefore they feel alone.

We have seen what people, according to me mean when they talk about solitude and loneliness. What I was wondering about, solitude is by choice and loneliness is something thrust upon you. However, what if one who sought after solitude was not given the chance of choosing that solitude? What if they were never invited to a party, they were left alone and not bothered about? This is likely to happen for after a couple of invites, which being turned down lead to the fact being established that this person will not come even if we invite them. Therefore, there is no point in inviting them. In this case solitude is thrust on them.

If the person seeking solitude in this case has a feeling of loneliness, then is the solitude actually that? Or is it just a show that they putting on for others? Can solitude be dependent upon the choice to be alone or not to be alone? Can it be that one can enjoy solitude only when they choose it and not when it is thrust upon them? My sense is no, for if they felt alone in absence of solitude and they needed the company to enjoy that solitude, then it is a farce, a blindfold that they have tied around themselves, a mask they are wearing to show the people around them that they are strong. However, that strength seems to desert them when they are alone, not by choice but by events. They feel lonely and alone. The mask stripped, they are but a shell of what they want to be.

Loneliness, solitude,
Is it a matter of choice?
If I choose, it is solitude,
If you do then loneliness?

Hidden

Hiding behind a veil
A veil of anonymity,
I say what I want to,
I say what I don’t want to.
Every word I utter,
Carries my imprint,
Distinctly mine,
Yet, distinctly unmine.
You know the words,
The voice,
You know not,
The face behind that voice.

My expression,
Never in your face,
Always behind
My veil,
My veil of anonymity,
Of deceit,
Lies and deception
Tales and fables,
Of lives and deaths
My expression
Hidden,
Behind words, unhidden.

a d-day called v-day!

I guess that some point in time people have a yearning for companionship. That is the only reason that I can think of which makes a man put up with a woman for the segment of life called marriage. Please do not mistake me; a woman too has to put up with a man for that period. It is “I scratch your back, you scratch mine”.

We will not deal with the need for companionship. What makes the 14th of February so special that people feel miserable if they are alone on this day? What makes showing material proof of love on this day so important? What makes the material behind the love in most cases more important than the love itself?

To take this one-step further, what makes a man spend eons of time, thinking about what to get for someone he loves, and why does he think of what will be the most, to use a cliché, heart touching gift possible? Why does a married man come and ask his unmarried friends what to get his new wife (please, she is his first wife!).

The one thing that I do not understand is the justification that it is one day and it is just an occasion to showcase your love. Well please consider this, why must my love be something that needs to be displayed in a showcase, literally? Why do I need one day to show a love that is supposed (supposed, taken for granted?) to be present everyday?


What made me not showcase that love everyday she was with me? Why do I need to wait for the day, the all pervasive, the all sentimental, the all too mushy Valentine’s Day? The short form for the day is V-day, reminding one of the famous D-Day. It has to be more than coincidence!!!

Add to this the hype created by the media and the makes of Archie’s and Hallmark greeting cards, the makers of all the soft toys, the people who sell roses on the road, I guess economically, they make all the money that they budget for a year on this one day. One can see only this on all news channels (I would not be surprised, for in our media, there is a news channel that flashed as breaking news: Amitabh Bachchan has caught a cold!), where to take that special one, what to gift that special someone, so on till infinity.

I have only one opinion on this matter. Valentine’s Day is just another day in the calendar. No different to the 13th and I expect 15th to be no different. If I love a girl, I will love her each and every day, not just on one day. I will not need an occasion to showcase my love. It will be on display every single minute because lets face it, she is taking a huge gamble by even thinking of being with me, let alone being with me.

On the eve of V-Day, read as D-Day, I sign off this post saying, “Love is not meant to be bottled in a single day; it is a year long affair. Make it so. Happy Valentine’s Years to all those couples out there”.

No rudder, no control

The night is dark,
Closing in on me,
Me, afloat,
On a river,
On a sea.
Which
I know not,
For all is calm,
I float on
Moving,
Yet still.

No rudder
To control the flow,
No control,
To say where to go.
Where the river ended,
And where the sea began,
Where the sea will end,
I will never know.
I float on,
On the river,
On the sea,

The sun rises,
Yet, offers no respite.
I can see
Where I go,
I saw where I was.
No matter how bright,
The sun shines,
No matter how warm
It makes me,
I still float,
No rudder,
No control,
I float
On the river,
On the sea.

Nila

Nila;
Her name simple,
As simple as she.
No wants in life,
She wanted life.
Company she sought,
In herself, she found.
She looked above,
At a sun, so bright.
Warmth, it gave her
From the cold inside,
It warmed her heart,
And left her cold.
She turned,
Giving a smile,
For the cold she treasured,
For the few in life.
You deserved a smile,
If you treated her right,
You were given the smile,
Her if you her be.
Her moods,
Along they ran, as
Every day, every night,
She showed the same face,
One seen, hiding
The one unseen.
Nila,
Happy she was,
Where she lain.
No questions asked,
Answers, she had
To everything, simple,
Nothing, she said.
She took a walk,
Ne’er return she did,
She lost her way,
Under the burning sun.
Happy, she still lain,
For being lost.
In that loss, she gained
Herself, her old self,
In a new self, she found.
Nila, she still lies,
The same way,
I found her that night.
No question asked,
A smile she gave,
Answered nothing,
Everything she said.
Nila, a smile,
A tear behind that smile.

The night of the scream

Every living breath,
Every unseen glance,
Every untold sentence,
Brings back that night,
The night of the scream.

My presence that night,
Illusionary, unknown.
My memory, hazy, unclear.
My ears, they still play
The never-ending scream.

When beauty,
It ceased existence,
Took up brutality,
Took up immortality,
Became true, became real.

The actions,
Yours and mine,
The words we never said,
Yet understood all the same,
Ending in that ear-piercing scream.

A reason to live,
Vindicated,
A reason to die,
Justified,
By that single scream.

The night, it passed,
As a living tribute.
Two people,
Together by fate,
Apart by choice.

Every breath of death,
Everything I see,
Every sentence heard,
Takes me back to the night,
The night of our scream.