Suppressed words

In each of us burns a fire; strong, deep and bright which serves as the driving force of life. Suppression, incessant and repetitive, is a feeling of your inner fire being slowly but noticeably getting wiped out. Is it the calm before the mighty storm, or is it the silence after the fire has consumed and burned down one’s being from the inside?

I like to believe every boy who ever came into my life, left with a impactful gift. Maybe it’s just me trying to focus only at the silver lining real hard, and maybe it’s just the spree of gratitude that I have suddenly decided to embark upon.

My very first crush in school was the vocalist of a boy band with the highly sexy initials of RA. While I clearly and smoothly fell into the bracket of clichéd teen girls, I felt myself being overtaken by an overwhelming feeling. To me the feeling was love, which it clearly wasn’t- a realisation 100% clear by now. The idea of infatuation and of the chase of something almost unattainable was a romanticised one. Life felt like a movie, where sequences were emotionally and 'hormonally' charged.

I like to believe RA exited my life, giving me the gift of rock. With the coming in and passage of his presence, I discovered introspection. Teenage angst coupled with feelings close to love was the perfect combination to make me delve deep, into a pool I was just experiencing for the very first time. While anthems of Linkin Park, Three days grace, 3 doors down, Nickelback, Green Day and Slipknot became the rush giving substances, the iPod succeeded the Walkman and helped me continue my newfound addiction. As RA slowly became devoid of my mental space, the genre latched onto me like nothing ever before. Maybe Matt Walst was voicing my inner feelings, feelings which had become used to suppression and lack of acknowledgement. Hearing the loud sounds was like a release, each drum beat a hit, each guitar string echoing wails of helplessness, each head bang a united cry of all souls sad and broken by their troubled teenage. The rock bands probably instilled us with something we had been craving all this while, but had no idea how to instil and conquer. They gave us power to know and understand what freedom and expression meant, the rebels in us had started a mental mosh pit already, getting rid of all that was inside.

To this day, almost 10 years later, I find myself returning to my world of rock music, closing the mild sounds of the world outside, and concentrating on the sounds banging at the doors of my eardrum. Music has not only helped me create my fool’s paradise, it has helped me say and convey many things which the tongue has failed to. My best bet in life till date is my word, and even my best bet has failed me sometimes, falling prey to deaf audiences. My word is my weapon, my word is my shield, my word is my cocoon, my word is my offering.

I would like to quote my younger and troubled self to conclude- I stopped talking because no one was listening, I started writing because maybe someday someone would read.