That perpetual battle within that makes me snap and lose track of reality. Logic defies me and i really can’t comprehend stuff. What is it? Is it something that we chose to do to ourselves or is it something that was out of our control? I keep pondering constantly about it and all I can come up with is another one. Do I do this? Do I follow that? Am I wrong? What happened? How did I do that? It just makes me cringe and wish I could have a third person’s perspective. An unbiased, objective vision that makes things easier and clears out the clouds of confusion. Ultimately, reason eludes me and I stay stuck in that state – one full of Conflicts.
Late night musings, picture hunts, Gatsby-sque jazz and solitude make me sigh. I’m running out of memories and those I had are on the verge of drying out. I filter and sift carefully to pick some at my convenience only to find that I’m unable to do so anymore, having done it a zillion times before. I close my eyes and try to drift back to those lazy evenings and days spent in the warmth and comfort of nothingness. I try to take deep breathes in vain attempts to breathe through that air you drifted in once. I find a smile slyly sneaking it’s way upto my lips as I yearn those stolen moments, strong enough to unleash a plethora of emotions. How trivial yet important that nothingness seems now, when I’m crushed deep into mundanities of life. The first conversation, the first kiss, the first dance, the first glance – a first of firsts that got it all beginning. There is no end to how many moments and memories I can conjure from a simply, seemingly harmless sigh.
Yet, it feels akin to reading my favourite book again. Over and over agin as I’ve been doing for years now. I know how it starts. I am aware of how it ends. I can trace the journey over my fingertips. However, every single time I pick it up, I find something new. A tiny, intricate detail that I had skipped over and had failed to notice. In that moment, that discovery, I smile again. I smile with the realisation that it wasn’t a futile to read that book again but fear what if I don’t find something the next time? I wonder if its the same with us. I make desperate, vain attempts to relive those memories and stumble across forgotten intricacies. In that moment, my heart skips a beat and I feel us over again. Here’s hoping that I don’t run out of memories. Memories we once shared. Memories on the verge of drying out.
He came like a storm
Out of nowhere
A silent, raging hurricane
Made to rip you out
And cut your soul into pieces
He came like a storm
The one I had been warned about
Yet didn’t pay heed
Only to be mesmerised by his beauty
And later, to be shredded
Shredded and thrown away
Like a broken record
He came like a storm
Unlike others, he came
With a warning
“Stay away!” said he
Only to make me fall
Deeper and harder
It was a whirlpool that
Gave me a euphoria
A euphoria that lasted
Long enough to numb it
He came like storm
A storm that broke me
And ripped me into pieces
As he passed by, I pondered
What is it that makes us fall
For hurricanes and thunderstorms
What is the enigma
To play with things most unsuited?
He came like a storm
That is over now
That is has left me collecting
Pieces of me lying around
Waiting to be mapped
As I wonder,
He was a storm
A beautiful, beast of a storm.
How thought – provoking can one carelessly said word or a randomly thrown statement can be at times? Why is that labyrinthine thoughts fail to stimulate one’s mind but a thought that is casually strewn across to you sets your mind into a whirlwind and makes you ponder deep into it? The way I see it, we are smart people. Highly selective and snobby enough to imbibe only what we want to and ignoring the rest as mundanities without so much as a glance. This is why not everything strikes a chord and one a few things stick with us long enough to stimulate a thought process.
These random thoughts came into my mind when a friend showed me something he was working on and chose to call it “A Riot on the Mezzanine”. It got me thinking about riots and mezzanines and a thousand other things but the bit that stuck with me was something completely polar to my initial thoughts.
It seems as if gauging the complexities of the mind and attempting to understand it are far fetched realities and we, as humans remain blissfully ignorant about it.
I met the thing
Effortless, like a breeze
It came and whisked me away
Into a labyrinth of emotions
Of glee, of delight
Of passion and that unfulfilled desire
Followed by that ache of loss
Of yearning for it and wanting to hold it
To hold it close and not let it go
Sitting in cozy bed late in night, I’m compelled to think about stuff. Not even compelled, stuff automatically zooms in and out of my head. I’m in a happy space and that makes me realize how important it is to get out of that myriad of stress inducing thoughts and just have that one, precious thing – a memory of a something special that has long gone stale and just smile with the thought that you were lucky enough to be a part of it. Everybody needs a thing! To gain perspective, to smile, to laugh, and most importantly, to be at ease. Maybe that’s why I love my thing and right now, with a tiny glimmer of hope, wish that you have it too.
“Politics is the purest and toughest form of activism”
One of the more thought provoking quotes I’ve come across in recent times. I am 21 and hold a Voters’ ID. Last year’s Punjab Assembly Elections were my first elections as a participating voter. Needless to say, I was disappointed. I come from a family of egalitarians, with somewhat contrasting political views. Yet, they have always encouraged me to hold my own opinion and be independent and vocal in my thoughts. This is one of the reasons I started blogging. Recently, I’ve gone thorough a loss of faith in the media, the government, the parties and basically everybody in-charge. Its difficult to believe what that is reported and fear of the knowledge of what goes unreported. The news are paid and politics has become a business – a game of thrones with on a select few with the real power.
In such a dystopia, Arvind Kejrival and his band of followers have given a slight sliver of hope. They have had a tough, honest stand, have battled allegations and betrayals and are totally inexperienced – yet continue to struggle and inspire me and many more people like me who have had their trust and solidarity misplaces and misused. Honestly, I don’t feel that they would garner much seats in the upcoming Delhi polls. Yet, people like me dream on – of a free nation, unheralded by hierarchies, with equality in everything and freedom from corruption.
It sounds like a far – fetched reality and maybe it is. Still, I keep my fingers crossed in the hope that AAP and its form of politics, i.e. their activism thrive and that there are a few decent and God – fearing people left in the world who would support them and lead India towards a political revolution.
Inspired by Melancholy. On second thoughts, this is a desperate attempt to overcome a stubborn writers’ block,
Of jobs left undone,
Of opportunities that we missed,
Of falling behind times,
And taking time to make up the mind.
Of misplaced trust,
Of dreams turning to dust,
Of the changed personnel,
And reluctance to come out of the shell.
Of not working hard,
Of letting the time go,
Of the potential not exploited,
And the failure to grow.
Of memories that haunt,
Of the blocks left unturned,
Of the fear of innovation,
Over unending taunts.
Oh! The Regret…
My first ever (and favourite) childhood memory is of my grandma holding my hand and taking me to the hospital, to see my brand new baby – sister!!! I had a new sister!!! The next one, me trying to make 6 – month old Asmita sit on Snowy, our dog. She looked delicious in a pink sweater and matching hat and cute little socks. I still can’t believe I remember that.
For me, Asmita has always been a baby to me more than a sibling. We have an age gap of four years. Not much, but she always has been so. From waving her goodbye when she used to go to Trinity in her buggy, to watching her prance around in my old pink lehenga with a fractured arm, to feeling proud over her, however small they might be, achievements – its been an amazing journey growing up. I used to walk her to her class when she was in KG, used to cover all her notebooks and do it again if mum didn’t do it according to me, to making sure she looked pretty – I can’t believe the things that we used to do together! She, being the untidy prat she is, would make everything dirty around her, yet it was exhilarating watching her just do things and make funny faces when she screwed up and hug me tight. We used to go crazy and drive our mum nuts sometimes. The highlight used to be us passing notes over sleeping mommy, when she made us sit apart and do homework! The best part used to be our birthdays, having a huge party and wearing matching dresses :)
When she started going to a kindergarten, we made a practise in her uniform the previous evening! I made her do that for high schooll too :P I admit, it was a proud moment, seeing her in that.
Then we grew up. I have never realized how quickly we grew up. It makes me so proud and amazed watching you do the same things I used to do. Reading the same books, sharing the same favourites over silly tv shows, being my guinea pig when I started cooking – you’ve been an awesome companion. You made my mad quite a few times – when you hid my Harry Potter or messed up your room every single time I cleaned it, but it always makes me smile when I think of those things.
I admit, I have always tried to boss her around. For instance, I still hold her hand when cross a road! You’ll always be my baby rather than a sister. I’ll always continue to irritate you and use a condescending tone and try to make you do stuff. I will always keep cleaning your mess and try being less irritating. I will always keep acting like you mum. For, you’ve are the most precious and important part of my life and I can’t imagine a day without talking to you. You’re the prettiest person on this planet. You’re more sensible than me. You’re incredibly smart for a kid you age. And I can’t begin to tell you how proud I am of you.
I went to college and now you’ve gone on to high – school. We have had our differences and then gotten over them. There are miles between us but I promise to be there all the time, every – frikkin – second for you. You’re my baby will always continue to be, now matter how old you get, even if you are 100 and I’m 104. You’re birthday is the most special day in my life because this is the day I got you! You’re the best sister anyone could ask for and the best one God ever made!!!
Keep hugging and strangling and trying to chipko with me and I’ll always keep trying to be your mum. I remember your 13th birthday – hiding your presents and smashing you up at 5 and then the look on your face as you saw your box full of presents! Don’t worry, you’ll get 17 this year. Let’s make this a tradition :D
Mommy and Daddy, thank you for giving me the best gift ever – Asmita!
PS – I couldn’t find more pictures, especially the one with you in a pram and me in Vidya – Mandir uniform!
I have just started using “Quora”, which is one amazing place to spend time and read. We talk of inspiration, I talk of being inspired to read and write all the time, and here’s the perfect answer to that : http://qr.ae/paER1
Please, do recommend some good books to read coz I’ve had a hangover ever since reading “Best Kept Secret” and Jeffrey Archer is in the middle of writing the next one.
I look at links shared by people on fb and twitter, I go through various articles. I read at lot of books, as in A LOT. I read, I get ideas, I intend to write and make mental notes. Then, I procrastinate. Big time. Its just amazing how well I procrastinate. Not anymore though. I have decided to write a post every two days. It need not be a big one, need not be something huge. Simple and regular. If people can blog about their pets’ peeing habits, I can blog about my day! So here goes the first one.
I am in my prefinal year at college with an year left till graduation. I am pursuing a degree in Computer Engineering. I am okay-ish at studies. I am good at some stuff but most of that can not be pursued as a career. Maybe some of it can but then I am not much of a risk – taker. Thus, this cloud of uncertainty about my future. I have a plan and I intend to stick to it. Yet, there is this fear. But then I think of those underprivileged people struggling to find a place to sleep or a meal. I think of kids who do not get to go to school whereas I’ve been lucky to have been blessed with parents who value education more than anything. I feel stupid at times when I’ve lusted after an iPad when that amount equals life – savings of a family.
So the question I am pondering over is if I should feel guilty or not. Should I embrace things as they are and work towards aiming my goal or work for the underprivileged. Confusion, confusion, confusion. Or, can a balance between these two things be achieved?
(Or maybe, these thoughts are a coping – mechanism for my brain about upcoming exams)