Victim and the Survivor

A shiver ran through her spine, as she saw him creeping on her from behind. She could sense him from his shadows. She did not need to see him, to know who it was.  After all, he was too familiar for her not to recognize. She knew it was him from how helpless she suddenly felt, how the smell of the tiny motel room suddenly turned overwhelmingly musty. She felt nauseated, hopeless.

He shouldn’t be knowing where she was. He wasn’t welcome here. The very reason she avoided all the familiarity of her place in the city and moved to this musty motel in a sparsely populated sleepy town miles away, was to check if change in scenes could help her get over him. She had a deadline in a week and she needed to deliver, if she wanted to be even a tenth of where she saw herself in five years. This was her golden opportunity, and she did not want to leave anything to chance. She had a calculated plan in place, on what to accomplish by which time frame and was satisfied when all was going well,  but she did not factor his intrusion in this. She thought she made it clear to him that they were done with each other, and never wanted to meet ever again.

The first time they chanced upon each other, she was unsure of who she was. She did not know how to identify herself as. She was confused, and was doubting her abilities when he came and annihilated her confidence. She was being called a fluke, a one shot celebrity who chanced upon a great idea once. She was labeled as a failure; yet another  woman who burnt out on luck. Meeting him then brought out the worst in her, as she started believing in what people said. It took her a lot of grit, determination and self belief to realize she is not what the society declared her to be, and she needed to move away from him to make it big. Again.

She was the happiest she could ever be when he wasn’t around, yet she was always drawn to him. Seduced and tempted by him, addicted to the numbness he brought to their dynamic. She spent hours and even days in bed with him, occupied fully by the idea of him, oblivious to the outside world, completely failing her responsibilities as a daughter, friend, sister and everything else that she was. It was easier to believe in the filthy world he constructed for her out of nothingness and vacuum.

But once she broke out of his wizardry, she could see what her purpose in this life was. And she found people who loved her, rooting for her, waiting for her to deliver. People like her editor who was the single ray of sunshine in her life, whom she met at a work party. The Editor who gave an inexperienced amateur writer like her the first break, was the sole reason she could dare enough to quit her corporate job and decide to try her luck as a full time novelist. Now that she wasn’t casual about her future anymore, there was no place in her life for him. She decided in that split second, in that shady motel room, in the outskirts of that sleepy town, that she would do the unthinkable. She would end his existence. He did not deserve to live, if he had as much power to mess with her future.

Taking the ink pen in her left hand and a paper knife in the right, she suddenly turned around. He was sneaking up on her, to surprise her but was in turn shocked to see her determined eyes. She stabbed him repeatedly with the paper knife, screeching and bawling all the pent up frustration in her, not paying heed to the howling cries he made while he collapsed down on the marbled floor. When she was completely satiated and sure that he had no shred of life in him, she got her notepad and sat down on his crumpled form, starting the next chapter of her novel, which was to be delivered next week. She would later decide on the trivialities like how to dispose him.

“Tschüss, mein Schatz”, she murmured to the now defeated Mr. Writer’s Block.

Death which caused Happiness

This poem has been written a few months ago, as a submission for the writing prompt received for a writer’s search: “Death which caused Happiness”

She has been flying from one nest to other,

Foraging for the Elixir to save their love.

While he was lost in the maze of the greens,

Waiting to find his way back to her.

 

She thought all will be well,

With the Elixir working its charm on him,

In spite of his wandering away

She did not think of any other way.

 

He wanted her to be different,

He wanted her to stay

But he could not ask her to

For she seemed lost in the sway.

 

So there they stayed,

Away from each other,

Caught in the webs of their own undoing,

Waiting for the other to slay through the tangles of the other’s love.

 

Waiting for each other to reach out to them,

And comfort each other with words,

Words warm enough to melt the knots

Formed In their hearts due to dearth of their satiating embrace.

 

And then it reached the tipping point,

Where each breath inhaled was sheathed by carbon dioxide,

And every step away was taken by feet of stone,

Every minute spent apart seemed to be a time speck of infinite measure.

 

She couldn’t stay away any longer,

Scouring for  the mythical Elixir,

Understanding that the Elixir was anything,

Anything they drank together from the same chalice.

 

And he somehow found his way out of the maze,

The maze in the greens which no one conquered

When she asked how he could do it,

He replied the way out was explained by her to him in another universe.

 

And hence they found each other again,

Despite the havoc created by their own circumstances,

They united against the conspired universe,

Finally slaying the demons of the past, present, and the future.

Death has finally caused Happiness.

Insomniac Rants- (#2 A Million Dreams)

The hustle bustle of cities was nothing new,

for I’ve seen places brimming with traffic quite a few.

But I’ve been overwhelmed with the chaos, the magnanimity of this City

ironically amidst all this, I’ve also found some tranquility.

 

They say you can never forget your firsts

your first love, first heartbreak, first kiss.

So how can I, how can I forget the kiss of uncertainty on my cheeks

when I first moved here, while I was never alone before for more than just a few weeks?

 

The butterflies in my stomach, not due to  the dimpled stud’s interested looks,

But because of the dilapidated library’s sepia colored books.

The tears, for once were not because of heartache,

but due to cutting the café off my bucket list, after finally having their cheesecake.

 

The eyes first wandered, took in all the colors of the City’s bustling energy,

culminated by a million dreams into a soulful synergy

weaved together by ambition, grit and determination

whitewashed over with hope, fueled by their own fixation

of what success should be, also influenced by the society’s dictation.

 

If there’s one thing I’d miss when I move away from you,

It’ll definitely be the salty sea smell of your morning dew.

And a piece of my heart which I’ve exchanged with the sea Gods

for every time the City has taught me to fight against the odds.

 

 

The Pissing Prince and the Patriot

Getting down at the street leading to the GrandPlatz, a sense of relief engulfed me. The moccasins gave me nasty shoe bites and freeing my feet provided much needed solace. The textured sidewalk, while being therapeutic to my sore feet, had an array of shops with display windows selling the famous “Brussels lace”, making the overcast skies less morbid with their intricate and gossamer patterns. Many a graffiti of Tintin, with Snowy and the drunk Captain on the stone buildings greeted me as if to proudly proclaim of the animated reporter’s true pedigree.

 

Tintin Graffiti on the streets of Brussels

 

Meandering through the streets, I swore by the only travel advice I trained myself to follow: for the complete experience of any new place, follow the crowd. I passed through the coveted Neuhaus, Godiva chocolate stores, savoring their delicate, rich and textured bliss. Belgian chocolate was an obvious choice but the locally famous praline and strawberries covered in flavored heaven were also insanely gratifying. To those who cannot afford the luxury,  there are many locally made rip-offs sold convincingly in equally facsimile ballotins. Trust me, the boss wouldn’t know.

 

Some of the many flavors of Belgium Chocolate

 

On reaching the GrandPlatz, the celebration of an annual fete immediately made Brussels a fond memory. The City Hall and the King’s House screamed of opulence infused with nuance and made me muse about the innumerable stories the Gothic styled edifices might have witnessed. Further away from the GrandPlatz, in a narrowing street is the famous Manneken Pis. Apparently having had a grander role in the city’s water distribution system, the fountain of a kid pissing is now a token symbol of Brussels’  charm. The life-sized chocolate impressions adorned around the shop displays of the naked child, however, took a little time for me to get accustomed to.

Manneken Pis

The Pissing Prince might have stolen my heart, but pieces of my soul were impregnated forever across the city like Voldemort’s Horcruxes, at various pit stops made in the short visit to Brussels on my way to Cologne. After a hearty meal of the “French” fries (which are actually Belgian) and generously topped Belgian chocolate Waffles, I realized how time here had an underlying dimension of an epicurean undercurrent. Going back, while touching the famous patriot’s statue (only to later overhear that the original Everard t’Serclaes was removed for restoration), I only wished for what was utterly obvious. A chance for me to return to this magical feeling I call home.

The Dots Game

I felt home where I grew up all my life, because I knew no different. I felt home while I was nowhere and on the way to somewhere, but then I was confused.

Confused, because how do you feel home, when you aren’t where you’ve lived all your life? How does it feel so right, to be away from familiarity and nostalgia?

The Being then answered for me, “It feels right because it is your Destiny and your Desire to move beyond where you were planted. Your Destiny is shining through places you’ve not yet heard of, places you don’t even know of. And your Desire to belong is fueling the journey, through your weak moments.”

“But for now my dear, keep seeking. You only know where you’re headed next. You are in a dot to dot game you played as a kid. But now, you are the dots and I am the player. “ said the Being.

As naive as it sounds, I believed the Being. For the Being is my Creator, my Mother, my Father and my Soul.

And I, I started moving from one dot to another, fully conscious of the path I was meandering, for the ultimate Happiness lies in the journey,  not at the Destination.

I am happy where I am. I stopped pondering over the What ifs and instead look for the What nows. For, the biggest opportunity of your life lies with you now. This moment is the only truth. Everything else is either set in stone, or uncertain.

This is where I wanted to be. This is where I dreamt I’d spend my days. Because sweetheart, home is not a place. It’s a sense of belonging. And I am home whenever I am one with the Being.

Insomniac Rants- (#1 Moving Out)

Early Mornings. Sleepless Travel.

Tired Eyes. Long way Home.

Sleepy Bodies.

Broken Photo Frames. Shattered Hearts.

Unresolved Emotions. Indefinite Waits.

Half-hearted Breakfasts.

Quick Showers. Same Clothes.

Hasty Cleaning. Sudsy Mopping. Slippery Floors.

Never ending Procrastinated To-Do Lists.

Selfish Humans. Silent side looks.

Fake Smiles. Predictable Mondays.

Concrete Jungles. Comfortable Cabins in the Glass Prisons.

Busy Managers. Much needed breaks.

No one to know you. No one who knows you.

No warm hugs from Ma.

No silly banter with the Sibling.

No pampering  by Papa.

 

But Also:

 

Loud Karaokes. Impromptu Booty Shakes.

Shabby Beanbags. Colorful Cushions. Pink Curtains.

Weekend Getaways.  Solo Street Shopping.

Frilly Pillow Covers. Tangled Earrings.

Favorite Ink Pens. Funky Diaries.

A Book on the Bedside. A toy Crocodile for Paperweight.

Oldest Pajamas. Baggy T-Shirts.

Cold Shoulder tops. Chunky Chokers.

Whole Kitchen for the ChocoLava Experiment.

Bathroom Mirror for that Steady Winged Eyeliner.

 

Cluelessness. Helplessness. Loneliness.

Or

Freedom to be however you please. Choice to do whatever you want. Living the DREAM.

 

It is all in how you look at it!

Skyscrapers

My first attempt at poetry, written today at the Writer’s Carnival in Hyderabad. 🙂

Skyscrapers lined on the roadside, on the way back home,

reminder of all the people still trapped inside the glass walls.

Typing away furiously, looking to get their tasks finished,

waiting for the nod from His Highness, just so they can find the ways back to their  loved ones,

And then like me, look at the Skyscrapers lined on their way back home,

And be reminded of all the other souls still trapped inside the glass prisons.

An experience that changed my life!

 

I haven’t been in a happy place since a while now,  though to call it a “quarter life crisis” would be an exaggeration. In deciding on how to go ahead with my life, I’ve had a mini rollercoaster ride altogether. Amidst all this chaos, my decision to attend the annual IEEE AISYWC 2016 was impulsive, but in the years to come, I’d probably define  my experience there as an epiphany.

The Congress opened me up to new avenues, in terms of allowing me to be a first hand listener to some of the most happening people of the tech culture, thus giving me a well informed chance to contemplate on how to go about with my professional career right now. More on that in another blog post, maybe. But the reason I’d call it an epiphany, is because of an entirely unrelated experience altogether.

I must admit, I am a socially challenged person, who cannot, for the life of me, have free flowing interactions with new people. So  to attend AISYWC was a dare I threw at myself, as to how I’d survive with no familiar faces or names around. Yes, I can be ever ranting about topics ranging from where I’d like to be in 5 years to why I think Yellow is a loud color which doesn’t agree with my mood- provided I’ve broken the ice with you. BUT, I do not initiate conversations, not because I don’t want to, but because I find it unnecessary. Maybe it’s a Capricorn thing?  Ah, I digress. Back to the point.

I was never short of inspiration, all my life. I was surrounded  by people who taught me to always  be the best possible version of myself. But what I’ve  experienced at the Bhagwan Mahavir Viklang Seva Samiti (BMVSS), taught me something else altogether.

It isn’t how accomplished you are, it is how impactful your life can be that matters.

Important government roles like RBI’s deputy Governor and  Chairman of SEBI, might not really define who Padma Bhushan Mr. D.R. Mehta is, because he seemed to really be in his element the day a few of us Congress delegates went to meet him at his Viklang Seva Samiti. In his simple white clothes, he looked genuinely at peace, taking pictures with all the enthusiastic young visitors with equal excitement, while  simultaneously explaining why Jaipur Foot works for the physically challenged patients better than other contraptions. He showed us how the Jaipur Foot is made, why it is cost effective comparatively and how the physically challenged people are compensated for their disability. They can walk, cycle, run and even climb trees just like how any able person can do.

For me, he seemed like a concerned grandfather taking care of all his grandchildren at BMVSS in spite of them not being his flesh and blood, just like how a grandfather  takes care of all of  his grandchildren irrespective of how different and diverse they are.

 

The two most important days in your life are the day you were born and the day you find out why. – Mark Twain

To be ambitious about building colonies on Mars, is one thing, but being the best possible version of yourself, and changing lives of  those with no other choice is something else entirely. All the confusion and uncertainty I had about what to do with my life, now seemed utterly trivial. If you have a fully functional human body, a roof to sleep under, and timely access to food whenever you are hungry, you are luckier than most people in the world today.  I learnt that we must stop cribbing about life, for there are people battling with worser calamities. If anything, I felt luckier, happier, and forever grateful than ever, but also felt more responsible and aware of what our role as young citizens of the society now is. If people can make a life after undergoing such hardships, I realised it doesn’t do justice to call them survivors, they are warriors who battled their life’s circumstances under a very able commander who is fully committed to the cause.

So yes, by now it is understood that this post is a blatantly selfish advertisement of a cause that moved my heart. Monetary donations are all great, but what they need right now is a lot of good thoughts and more awareness amongst the crowd about their selfless service. They have camps across India and abroad, also providing rehabilitation for the needy, whenever necessary.

In order to disrupt the  dystopian, cynical society that we are growing into, we need all possible sunshine and positivity.The next time you see an amputee kid with crutches on the streets near your workplace, or a man with no legs begging for alms at a busy crossroad, spare a minute to talk and make them know there’s a selfless man with a warm and genuine toothy grin waiting to change their lives for the better.

In case of more information, reach out to the BMVSS at:

+91-0141-2700445

+91-9314566665

They also have their own FaceBook page: https://www.facebook.com/jaipurfootbmvss

Do Spread the word.

 

Sixty two Minutes

The room was silent. The usual hustle bustle from the traffic across the balcony did nothing to disrupt the silence of his room. He felt empty.

Having lived on his own since his boarding school days, he thrived in solitude. When most people would miss home, after moving away to chase their dreams, he rather focused on how within his reach the goals were. He loved his work with all fierceness, but that didn’t mean he had no other priorities. He was easily likeable and had many close friends wherever he moved to- his 4 AM friend, his foodie friend, the friend who is his book buddy, the girl with whom he loved to travel, you get the drift. But, he was no social butterfly. There was no scope for loneliness, only for independence coupled with responsibility towards his future. He lived his life fully, with no regrets.

However, when she came to meet him during her summer break, his world turned upside down. Though they knew each other since they were kids, it had been years since he’d seen her. Yes, they text once in a while, but due to his erratic lifestyle and her extremely competitive graduate school schedule miles away, they hardly went beyond enquiring if all was well.

When she came to meet him during her summer break however, the axis of his life shifted by a one eighty. In an hour he spent with her, he could see a preview of how colorful his life could be, with her by his side.

Just as how to a man who is blind, the concept of color cannot be explained, he did not know how he could explain what and how he felt in that one hour. She was spontaneous in hugging him when they met, and he could feel the genuine happiness radiate from her body to his, she seemed  ecstatic she finally met him! He could not fathom how beautiful she was inside and out, and felt enamored by her many recounts of her life since they’ve last spoken.

He was the happiest he ever was, in that one hour. After sixty two minutes of pure unadulterated happiness and three thousand seven hundred and twenty seconds of ethereal  extraordinaire, he realised his life held no meaning without her by his side. The fortress of solitude built around  his twenty seven year old heart was demolished in a mere three  million seven hundred and twenty  thousand milliseconds. And while it was the time to bid farewell, he  realised that he was also the saddest he ever was. Because he knew such an hour would never grace his life anytime soon. He was heartbroken, not for the moments they could have spent beginning from much earlier, since their acquaintance as kids,  but for the moments they could never spend together.

With a promise to meet again the next day, he parted with untold feelings. But then, fate never gave him that chance.

 

 

BFF – what it really means!

I admit thinking I was a social recluse and an introvert, but I now know I have an increasingly steady number of people I can tolerate, if not get along famously. I’ve learnt that it’s not what I have in life, but rather who I have in life that counts. Expecting too much from such people in your circles will consequently harm you more than do good, and that harm increases with the number of people you care about.

As we grow up we don’t lose friends, we just know who the real ones are.

Of all the friends I had, over the years, there have been friends who moved out of town, friends who changed schools, mates whose names are the only thing I remember and then some lost friendships. But for every soured friendship, I had people who held me strong through the tempest, and who knew exactly how to cheer me up.

One of the first names that strike me when I think of such friends is yours. You are a wonderful and a beautiful person to know.

Hardcore foodies. Chocolate fanatics. Bookworms. Silly Fights. Big Dreams. Independent spirits. Intertwined souls. Perfectly imperfect.That sums us up.

You inspire me. I am moved by how strong you are, how you persevere over time to get what you want. There are times when you almost give up, losing hope, but I love the way you fight back after you get your portion of gyaan from me. You almost always smile and take things easy. Though I usually complain about how easy going you are, I now know it’s your way of dealing with bullshit, and I respect it.

We’ve mastered our version of friendship. I know when to shut up when you’re ranting at how unfair fate can be, and just when to stop you when you’re worrying a bit too much.You know when exactly to crack a totally inappropriate joke just to lighten my dark mood. We are made for each other like that. True friendship isn’t about being inseparable, it’s about being separated and how nothing changes. I know now, just as how I’ve known since forever, that we will always be inseparable. I have found my soul mate in you, and I am blessed! 🙂

Happy Birthday sweetheart. Let’s promise to love ourselves and each other a little bit more every day, and know when to walk away from any unnecessary interactions.Let’s promise to be less cynical about life and more hopeful that we will have our own happy endings, however different they may seem to the world. We are ambitious girls with too many dreams and let’s spend our lives checking each item off our bucket list with enthusiasm and fervor.

Keep Rocking as always, BFF.