My restaurant is finally open and is running for two days. I’ve never been this busy in my whole life. Time just flies away when working. My smoking has reduced. The nature of my job among all other things is to stay at the cash register. My mobility is far reduced. I thought I can snatch moments to blog and also see a few movies but that is not the case. I am far glad when I see customers entering my restaurant. My elder brother who is a minor partner in the firm is walking me through the ropes of managing a business. A host of other well wishers and a few with vested interests are also helping us out.
I started out to set up a small juice shop to keep me engaged. But things kept evolving and I ended up with a posh restaurant in my hands. My psychiatrist used to say that most of his other patients with Bipolar Disorder have settled down and I am the laggard. Now hopefully it is my time to settle down. I intend to keep blogging. My restaurant’s name is ‘Samurai’. I feel at peace with myself. My brother is shifting from Bangalore to my hometown Tuticorin. He is a partner in another vegetarian restaurant. My restaurant is non vegetarian. I strongly believe this restaurant will change the lives of many.
Any suggestions on improving my life can be left in comments. I appeal to the cosmos and if ever there is a power above to keep me afloat in this special journey of mine. Happy Blogging.
Will a restless soul find peace?
a lone wanderer shall always tire,
lost within like withered trees,
who will light his funeral pyre?
alone in his madness he walks,
never a part of a greater whole,
no company, to himself he talks,
longs for imprint of another soul;
how end his solitary foray,
who will stand by his side,
all pass through, none stay,
he walks with a sturdy stride;
life has tossed him to drift away,
must fight to reconquer his way.
I am downright filthy,
reeking of self pity,
glad to be wealthy,
yet shame of impurity;
wish to burn alive,
curing me of disgrace,
bees have a hive,
I have no one to face;
there will be a new dawn,
where I turn the tides,
a new vigour will be born,
be immersed in joy rides;
it isn’t question of me rising above,
but how many I drag out of their low.
I accept that I have Bipolar Disorder. It is more common than we think I have been told. It is the common cold of psychiatric disorders they say. Not a big deal.
In the context of this blog I have the nasty habit of mimicking the nature of other blog posts considering it inspiration. This post is some such thing. I feel odd doing this post as if I am asking for a pity parade. I’ve alluded to my condition in many poems and even in some other prose posts. But I’ve never really took it head on.
Bipolar disorder as for as I am concerned is a series of episodes where I lose it completely and am totally insane. When out of these episodes I am as normal as the other guy. When I am with people who know me and I lapse in to an episode they take care and inform my brother immediately and he comes and has vigil over me while I get completely normal under psychiatric guidance.
There have been so many episodes beyond count now. Each time I promise that it would be my last episode but fate intends otherwise. When I lapse when I am alone then that is a real problem. I’ve been detained by cops, drank water from the toilet, defecated in the open, had been thrashed and pushed out of a bus, I hit a strange girl and almost blinded my brother to state a few things that have happened to me.
It isn’t these things but the fact that the two jobs I had managed for six months at a time have been lost due to an episode is the greatest loss. I get cured but the effects of my episodes reflect on me for years. My brother who is caring in episodes becomes impatient with me when I am normal. Yet there is a practicing psychiatrist with Bipolar Disorder. Caterina Zeta Jones has it. It in no way affects life mostly. They just have terrible mood swings. I don’t have that I think. But I think I’ve had my last episode. I have nothing, no cause to worry compared with others of similar woes. The physically differently enabled who are stories of courage. My dad has polio in an arm and never complains then why should I.
I have become a lazy couch potato because of this. I no longer worry about people knowing my problem. That train passed long back. The cat is out of the bag in a perennial sense. This is one of the reasons I am being single. There are several more like my hugely excessive chain smoking. Six to eight packs a day. There have been times when I feel suicidal both during an episode and out of it in normal times.
It has been sixteen years of almost nothingness since my first episode. There is nothing to show for all these years. Books and movies helped me spend my time for these years. Now the blog and my writing quests have occupied me more recently. It isn’t my disorder but the after effect of being a couch potato that I have to fight against. Compounding these ills is the fact that I have become a pushover as long as my comfort levels are not breached. I can’t change that now. This would have shown what a grand loser i’ve become.
I’ve always been a day dreamer. I always dreamt that all my woes would disappear as soon as I become big and famous. I realise now that it isn’t happening. The plethora of talent I see around me has stunned me. I will soon start on being a restauranteur and write for the blog and out of it not in hopes of becoming big but to occupy me and also share it to the world.
We are all fellow travellers in the journey of life. Love is the true currency of this journey and not fame and money. Thanks for making me rich in that folks inside and outside of this blog. I might die but a fragment of my soul will live on through this blog. Though this isn’t a chronicle of my life these posts yet reflect on who I am. I am actually a thoroughly funny person to boot in my real life. That alone is not reflected in this blog. Happy blogging.
The ships with people have left port,
why do you still loiter here,
what ecstasy seek, whom court,
is it the seas that you fear?
I bow my head in shame,
for I fear the sea of change,
my painful life will be forever same,
yet there is a lure of the strange;
I now lack the guts to sail away,
yet I can still dream and hope,
someday I be on the sea’s sway,
sailing away from pain me dope;
now that is a journey I’ve forever planned,
but what use for I am anchored to land.
I salute the wise and warm aged,
though they don’t like to be reminded,
will I grow old like this caged,
with my life a drag never mended;
if it were so let me now perish,
hope for joy is what makes me tick,
create sweeter memories to cherish
stamp imprint on world with a kick;
Will I in painful solitude grow old,
can fate be that cruel and me that bold,
will I find my herd as my story unfold,
will I be truly happy before I go out cold;
the years passed have been unkind,
the years ahead shall blossom as I unwind.
Alone we will perish,
in this brutal war,
together we flourish,
and can go far;
but none came near,
alone I stood,
why don’t they hear,
fought as I could;
me war weary,
near end fiery,
I went out blazing,
to find glory amazing.
A speck of sand among countless,
why do I feel all alone,
why write, am I worth it, none bless,
carry on failure prone;
seeds of thought germinate to a flowery tree,
what fruits of wisdom they yield,
none want it as fruits abound hassle free,
how sell my wares in this field;
never confident, never secure, me weak,
my words strong shall soar high,
leaving me behind, race to a winning streak,
hope is what makes me try;
I shall write though mocked for it bitter,
and my words shall shine as they get better.
I churn my inner desires,
to forge a worthy creation,
that shall quell my fires,
to gain deep appreciation;
each day goes without progress,
but the fire to share consumes,
worried, in to old ways I regress,
depressed, mind burnt in fumes;
hoping some day my song be heard,
I sing alone in painful isolation,
in sea of chaos where find my word,
not even a few to give me consolation;
but I keep walking spewing my words,
hoping they’ll sprout wings to fly like birds.
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