Knowing Me...

My photo
If I say I'm just a teenager leading a life as normal as it can get, I sort of defy what I stand for. Its not all that easy but it has its moments. I like those moments when they come along and they bring with them a significant amount of emotion, which I only began expressing in words at age 7. Since then, its all about the writing. It gets to certain people and some just don't get it! But I think that its important for me to write because that is maybe the only talent that exists in me [not denying the presence of good enough speech to win a few here and there =P] There is little I know and there is much I simply yap about but I make sure that if its really got to be said, it better be said, however in the wrong or right. I feel much. There are lot of things I plainly observe and those are sort of the things that I adore writing about. I'm inspired by minute details and small things that have a huge impact much later on. There is much more to me that most know and many have bothered not about. Not like I want them to. But I'd like to be known. And that's what I think I stand for, being known beyond what is known. =D

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Science or Faith

Try every permutation
Or combination you've been taught,
or that you have in mind,
Till the problem solving
renders you blind.
But you won't succeed.
Your love is driven by greed.
Or so you've been told.

Balance each equation
Till it sears you through.
Check every fraction and
reaction that controls you.
You still won't find the peace you crave.
Your books render you naive.
Or so you've been told.

Push and pull with each machine
but gravity will thrust your love to the floor.
You cannot stand it any more.
But for all your faith in action,
and opposites and attractions,
Keep your faith intact
till you ram into closed doors,
only to be told,
You were warned before.

Friday, October 7, 2011

Getting Personal...

I haven't posted in a while. And I miss being able to write the quantity I used to. But interestingly, its not how much I've managed to churn out over the last couple of months, its about the amount I want to share.

I've become an increasingly private person when it comes to my work. I've written tonnes in my diaries, on my phone, for random projects, during class. But more often than not, I'm not immediately jumping to type out my thoughts and poetry into the blogpost editor and publish for the eyes of the world to scan it.

Understood that this is my world of people that will see my work, and appreciate it or critically analyze it and tell me how to get better. Understood that I've got nothing holding me back and nothing to have ever stopped me or deter me from openly revealing what's in my head. But I guess I've also understood that some thoughts, when expressed, automatically come with lines drawn around them. Not every impulse is a no-holds-barred kind. I've begun to maintain restraint. Even in the amount I think of something to write about.

Maybe everything needn't be explicit. Maybe it all doesn't need to be in verse form. Maybe I don't need to question why I haven't told anyone what I'm thinking. Maybe the impact that songs and movies have on me every single day doesn't need to impact 10 other people. And maybe I'm actually alright with it being this way. I'm ok with not thinking and not channelizing thought to have it published. But I know for a fact that its all still there, that I haven't lost any will to write even today, despite work or life or anything. And I know that you, out there, whoever you are - friend, family, well wisher, random person - are maybe going to read it still, just to see if your faith still aligns with mine. And after this, I sure hope it still does.


Saturday, August 20, 2011


Not every road leads me to an end.
Not all means are justified.
Stuck as I am, still walking on a track
with every step undefined.

Do I count my moves as I make them
Or leave a trail of crumbs behind?
Need I let myself come back to
The starting point, or walk forward, determined?

Grasping on straws that strengthen me
But letting tough ropes split my skin
Yearning to be boundless, free,
Screaming from within.

Do I choose what I can
or choose what I must do?
Either may work, but in this life
the only way out is through...

Tuesday, July 12, 2011


When one goes to get themselves a pair of spectacles, the eye-test consists of lens combinations being changed around depending how clear you can see out of them. Wipers on a windscreen of a car only exist so that when it rains, you can wipe off the distracting droplets and clearly see the road ahead. Concepts aren't understood unless they're crystal clear. Where, I ask, does this lead us? It only leads me to believe that unless and until something doesn't have a certain amount of clarity, it doesn't work for us.

In viewing how clarity makes us more comfortable with the new adjustment we have to make, the concept of clarity is actually, in my understanding, the basis of all human relationships. Unless we're clear about the relationship and what it means to us, we cannot develop the right degree of trust, love, understanding and sacrifice. If I am unclear about where I stand in any bond, I'm not going to be able to do full justice to it or even take it forward from where it is.

Between friends, clarity is what can make them stronger and more together. Between parent and child, the clarity brings them both round to each other's point of view, which is needed because misunderstandings there cause only hurt, and no happiness. Between siblings, its important to be clear about how they are with each other. The reason why my brother and I are as together as we are or understand each other the way we do, is because we both are equally sure of where we stand in each other's lives. Sure we have our altercations, but those also are not without the understanding of where the other person comes from.

Between those in love, it is perhaps the most important thing. I cannot sustain a relationship that is not clearly defined for me. Not saying that everything needs to have boundaries, or demarcations, but everything does need to be clear. It needs to be all there, or not at all. I've had to be in situations where because I wasn't clear in my head about where I wanted to be, the other person and I suffered the consequences because we were not clear about what we wanted, and hence couldn't be fully honest with each other.

A few years after that incident happened [details of which are unimportant], fate played a funny trick and I was in the same situation again. Amazingly enough, I learned that unless I came clean and clearly explained everything that was in my head and heart, I wouldn't get an honest response on the other end. And I did, because I was clear about where I was going which generated a level of trust and acceptance. And I'm glad that it happened the way it did because despite the hurt, I know that I'm not hanging in mid-air, in limbo, without reason enough to believe in any side of the story.

At the end of the day, it is only fair to someone that you are completely clear about your stance. Not stubborn, but clear. Only if someone else can understand your point, can feel what you do, and can see what you see, will they be able to reciprocate. Remember, unless you see the picture clearly, the glasses just aren't right.


Monday, June 27, 2011

Crying It Out...

A tear is such a powerful thing that exposes even the most internalised weakness, or strength. it isn't a mere drop of salty water, but a carrier for all anger, frustration, failure, and sometimes even love and joy and pride. Its silence betrays even the deepest emotion, its motion slow enough to let the pain sink in.

Its no mystery that we can cry, and some of us [me included] tend to do so more than others. We cry at the movies, in loss, in pain and sometimes, even in sheer happiness. Each tear seals a reason, revealed or not. But have you ever cried without knowing why? Ever begun sobbing so violently, but without any catalyst? I know I have. There are times when I cry, without cause. Each part of me just yearns to find out why, but I never do.

Some times, the vulnerability and security of being in the arms of someone you love just makes you let out each tear that had been preserved for a better reason. The comfort is all it takes for one to pour their heart out, even if literally so. There are times when I long to do just that - just hug someone and cry to my heart's content, and let silence do its deed. There are times where I could just grab a friend and tell them, 'cry it out. It wouldn't hurt', because I understand how they feel just then. But then again, our inhibitions, and more often than not, our brains, stop us from doing so. Wonder what we're saving up these moments of togetherness in wellness and otherwise for?

But today on, I will tell myself that its ok to do that. Its ok to just hold onto someone and weep for as long as it takes for it to pass. And its ok to help someone do the same. Maybe they're like me, looking for the right time, right place and right person to drop their guard in front of. But I guess the tears know when to flow. They know when its time to barge through the floodgates and let everything out. And for once, I'll agree with them, and just cry it out.


Saturday, June 18, 2011

Over time, I've learned that as human beings, attachment is really important to us. We hold on to even the clumsiest threads that binds us to a person, and often we easily let go of strong ropes that join us to another person, only because they make cuts into our skin as we struggle to keep it together. This careless ease with which we handle our attachments is more selfish than anything else because we feel that we'd never be devoid of love if we ever needed or wanted it.

Only recently, I have begun to question the level this attachment can go to. Is it possible that some ties grow stronger in an insignificant amount of time? Can someone's one time concern become so habitual for us that we refuse to see beyond it? Do you, honestly asking, have someone who is so special to you that even the deepest cuts from holding on don't deter you, even if the other has already let go?

The question is not why we're still holding on, but what is it on the other side of the line that we don't want to let go of? A friend, a lover, a parent, a sibling, or love lost? Letting go isn't as great a part of us as attachment is. But what about the fear of letting go surpasses the pain of holding on? I know, for one, that the reason I find it hard to let it go is because if I do, I'm never too sure of whether I'll get a chance to pick it up again, or whether the person on the other side is going to care even an ounce to make sure that I hold on no matter what. And I, for one, also know that the reason why I continue to hold on, beyond pain, beyond hurt, and beyond normalcy, is because as I hold on, with each iota of determination I put into it, it will have some meaning some day for someone at the end of the line. If nothing else, the pain only makes me stronger and immune enough to handle lesser or greater pain, whatever the bond.

I'm unafraid to admit that I have some bonds that I'm holding on to despite the lashes on my hands. I still wear my heart on my sleeve. I'm still afraid to let go. But I'm sure that as long as I'm holding on, I feel stronger and I feel happier in the knowledge that I have someone to think about at the end of the day, who gives me the courage to hold on. And if nothing else, if you're reading and have been afraid so far, you're unafraid to be strong.


Wednesday, May 25, 2011

What's Worse?

Pain is inevitable. Whatever the form. Be it physical, mental, emotional [which some will argue is also mental, but never mind] or just pain. When I talk of pain, the word pain is usually associated with some sort of violence, or some sort of medical procedure. And more often than not, its the latter, considering I haven't had a good fight in a while [not to worry, there is no hidden demon waiting to be unleashed.]

Its funny how certain times, certain things are supposed to hurt more than others. For some, its painful to receive a physical blow, while others seem to hate the violence of emotional conflict, leaving them scarred for life. One would assume that when I got my tattoo done [to refresh your memory, its a 1" by 1" Yin Yang a little lower than the nape of my neck] , it hurt like crazy! Its quite the first question that someone asked me when I told them about this development, "Did it hurt?/How badly did it hurt?" Disappointingly for most, it didn't hurt at all. I felt only an initial pang of nerves, but then it was smooth-sailing. There could be reasons for that - 1. The tattoo artist was extra careful [which he totally was =)] 2. The area isn't that sensitive 3. I was strong enough to bear it. Coolly enough, they're all true to a very large extent. So basically that expectation of pain, that anticipation, was shattered for most, including me!

Even funnier than that is that time where things cause way more pain that they intend to or that they are expected to cause. Like the day before yesterday. I was scheduled for a blood test early in the morning and the person was to come home for collection, and so she did. When she yanked the needle out of the sterilized covering it was packed in, I was mortified. Not scared, not nervous, but mortified. My mother turns to me, and asks - "why are you so scared? you got a tattoo done didn't you? and you're scared of a 5 second poke of a needle?!!" I only said "yes." Purely because there's a vast difference in being drawn on by a continuously rotating needle and being poked by a needle which is held there with a tremendous amount of pressure.

Therefore, at the end of the day, no matter how many tough things one may do, no matter how many hard fights one may have, even the smallest things can put the fear of i-don't-know-what into everyone. And funnily, at the end of the day, fear can be inspiring, as it has been for me - to start writing again. Good bye writer's block and hello life!


Tuesday, May 3, 2011

Books and Movies, I and Why...

I'm an avid reader, or at least I like calling myself that. I've read a lot and have been reading since forever. The same can be said for movies in my context. If there were ever and exam on movies, according to my mum, I'd ace it. At least the Hindi movies section. Anyhow, there are times when these two loves of mine come together and create something. Something known as book-inspired movies. Notable examples that I have watched - P.S. I Love You, the Harry Potter Series, Princess Diaries, Memoirs of a Geisha, The Namesake, 127 Hours, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and many more.

For a while now, there has been a steady argument that floats around as to why a filmmaker must take up a book or its story and, more often than not, RUIN IT??? *attach agonized expression here*

For years I have heard friends and others ran about the terrifying brutality with which the book has been stripped of its original charm and how badly represented, made and cast it is. For years I have either remained unavailable for comment or voiced a minor "yeah, i think so". But now, it seems to have hit me that I actually enjoy the movie versions of books and also don't mind them being different from their parent books.

The primary reason to any of this has to be the fact that we don't read illustrated books. Our mind's eye must visualise each detail to imbibe the true flavour of the book and each scene or chapter. When this very book, whether easy or hard to picturise, when turned into a movie, is a representation of a universal visualisation. I like being able to look at a scene in a movie and go "thats exactly how I imagined it'd look!" The vastness of the description by authors like Roald Dahl and JK Rowling, among others, after a point in time needs a visual representation that one can look at and marvel at.

The second reason being that some times, when there are certain details that have been introduced, they add a fresh flavour to the original plot. It makes me go "wow" instead of "yeah, its exactly like that. *yawn* " Case in point - Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.
When certain details are removed or changed around for audience appeal, I'm one of those audiences that it ends up appealing to because its a fresh take on what exists and probably gets rid of unnecessary details. Also, for people who've not bothered to read the book, its a relief really. Case in point - P.S. I Love You.

And finally, why I actually enjoy these movies. That's purely because I've acquired the ability to be able to detach myself from the meaning of the book to me and look at the movie as a spin on the book, which still is a separate work of art. I don't need a replica of the book at all stages because I'd rather just read the book again and again for that. And if I constantly liken the book to its movie, I risk being disappointed. I don't like that option, because then it puts me off movies, which is not cool [extremist that I am].
Case in Point - HP Series, and the Princess Diaries series.

Books have their own charm at the end of the day. A movie doesn't really help vocabulary, or give you a good smell from every frame [for those who smell books, you know what I'm talking about ;) ]. Movies have the ability of superior visual appeal and that works for someone with the hunger for an audio/visual depiction of creative excellence. Owing to the fact that they are two separate disciplines, they are as equal to me as two eyes of mine


Friday, April 22, 2011


I want to be loved because of anything,
but I want to love despite everything.
I want to run, skip, jump and fly
but I want my love forever nigh.

I want to feel the waves of air
Fleeing from above me, from everywhere,
but I want to hold on to every breath,
even as I swim to the deepest of depths.

I want to soar, to break out
but as I do, I want to yell, scream and shout.
I want to be engulfed by silence
Shut out by every full-feeling sense.

I want to keep, to possess, to own
I want no time to bemuse and bemoan.
yet I want to let go, be free
Have nothing to grasp, nothing restraining me.

I want to feel real for as long as I can
yet live in far off fairy-lands
I want to be loved, for anything that may be
So I may want to love the one who loves me...


Thursday, April 21, 2011

A Bond I Cherish...

As girls in general go, stereotypically speaking, I don't qualify as an out-and-out girl. And as the process of making close friends goes, my friends usually lie on the other side of the gender fence. I've always found it a easier task, and hence a choice, to find lasting friends in the male race, as it were. This probably owing to two facts - one, that I've always studied in a co-ed set up so far, and two, that I'm the only girl and the youngest child in my family, thus making it mandatory that I mingle with boys, men and the like.

This major part of my characteristic behaviour contributes to both harm and good in this department. I've ended up being confronted with the dividing line between "friends" and "something else" quite a few times. I dealt with it foully a few times, and a few cherished falls later, I've risen above to a different understanding. One of those times has been now, and his level of understanding has only made me wiser, if nothing else.

He's a friend, and something else, but he's a friend and nothing else. We've only really gotten to know each other through the last two years, being in the same school and having been thrown into situations with ease. At first glance, he's in-your-face, serious, confident, unconcerned and at times, annoying. It took me three long months to realise that I was judging him based on an exterior created by circumstance, experience, intelligence and practicality. He still can come across as he did at first glance, but he's mostly funny, smart, understanding and downright honest! He can't mince his words even if he tried, because he likes to keep it simple.

We've fought tonnes, even tried not talking to each other. But I guess sometimes, you need a few time tested trials to ascertain that this friend and/or something else is for keeps. But there again was that dividing line, that question - is he just a friend? can he be more? do I want him to be more than he is? does he want me to be more than I am?

Knowing his honesty and [mostly] non-judgmental air, I told him about what I was thinking. We hypothesized tonnes and finally reached a conclusion that pretty much altered my perception of anything like this in the future, and anything like this that is in the past. We're friends for each other, and can be more, and will be if there is a time that warrants that, but for now, we'd rather have this happy place where we feel pure admiration for each other, without having to label it as a relationship. We're both smart enough to understand that time where neither or both of us would feel the need to expand into a whole new domain. And neither would sever ties as friends even if we fell out of love, as it were, because, like he says [and I quote] "a friendship not strong enough to stand the fact that one has started liking the other isn't worth having in the first place."

He's just the same each day, I remain the same each day, with only a tad bit more respect for him and myself. Our friendship has remained, if not grown stronger. He's still special to me. I still mean something to him. And that's how it stands. He has taught me a few things, he learns a few here and there from me, and that's how we want it, for now. Whether we go anywhere from here or not doesn't tickle me, because this point where we're at right now is rare and something that I'd be a fool to mess up!

They say that two people of the opposite sex find it hard to be friends for long. If confronted with this a few years ago, I'd agree. Wholeheartedly. At that point, my own experience convinced me that the grey area cannot exist. Life is wholly black and white. Today, after a few years of learning, living and loving, I couldn't disagree more.


Friday, April 15, 2011

Culinary Love!

I love to experiment! Be it with a new look, a new type of book or even cooking! And evidently, today's successful experiment was cookery-based.

Being a 17 yr old, who is about to turn 18, I believed that it was imperative to be able to sustain myself on things beyond maggi and toast and the likes. So I set myself the challenge that I'd cook a whole meal for the family.

Now, bear in mind, my family isn't just me and the parents. My family is my parents, my brother, my pilot cousin, my house helps and me, with my mum's mum in tow for the while. So cooking for 8 people was the task and despite the fact that there was dissuasion from every corner, I stuck to my gut and decided that this had to be done. I couldn't turn back at the point when I'd promised myself, and I was intent on dazzling.

After rigorous searching online, I was able to zero down to 3 basic recipes - dahi ke kebab for starters and avial and dal with raw mango. These required intense preparation and after printing my recipes and getting the ingredients, the evening was mine to use!

Cooking, I admit, is tough. I wonder how our moms and their moms and absolutely anyone who cooks on a regular is able to manage and multi-task. I had to chop, check, stir, mix, knead, and god knows what else. Luckily my househelp was an utter darling and helped me through it all, but I think I tired her out too, considering she's never cooked any of what I'd planned!

My mum constantly checked in - "can I help?" "need me to do something?" "are you sure you need no rest?" My grandmother also needed to be told to stay out while I toiled and trudged. Too much care and love makes one nearly blind to the concept of committment and loyalty to the cause. Even if the cause is to merely cook, not save the world.

It was time for dish one - the kebabs. We'd already faced major disaster with that considering I messed up the proportions of the curd needed and didn't let it leave enough water, which disabled it from being bound easily. The besan was our saving grace, but 9 on 10 isn't a bad score, nay? My father kept gushing his approval and I'm superiorly glad he liked it!

Next was the turn for the mains. The dishes turned out exactly how I needed them to be, except that I couldn't put my yellow chilli powder into the dal, which was an essential ingredient to lend it colour and flavour. Working around the incompetence of the groceries to be able to give me my condiment, I concentrated on the avial. I've seen it at restaurants and eaten it with pleasure, so I was capable of understanding the flavour, body, texture and look the dish needed. Gladly I can accept that it turned out to be the dish of my dreams! It worked perfectly and I've never seen my family eat that fast!

The reason why I'm sitting and describing this whole episode as it were is because I've never been so proud of myself before! I've never done something so huge before and I'm still overwhelmed by this whole episode. I'm glad I made my family happy and did something to prove that I can survive wherever I go now, that I'm ready. Ready for a life without any hunger or any dependence on anyone to set a plate for me to eat on.

Modesty, very honestly, isn't my style. And for once, I take pride in being slightly boastful about having accomplished something that a lot of people my age cannot do. And this is an open invite - you're welcome to come and demand me to cook something for you, provided you give me at least a day's notice =)

Monday, April 11, 2011

I Win =) I Lose =(

I'll begin with the simple and blatant admission that Monopoly is my favourite game. I may not be money-minded in general but I cannot resist the charm of the game made of money and everything to do with the art and war that is business. I can play the game day in and day out, and I even play with myself, using two separate counters and money stashes, just as one would play chess by themselves, being both the black as well as the white army. When I do that, I win and I lose. I find pleasure in beating myself, as much as I enjoy beating others at the game, as I seldom lose. Seldom here entails a 1 in 15 chance.

I'll go ahead with another simple and blatant admission that I'm not a gracious loser, but this is restricted only to monopoly. The rationale I follow there is, why should I lose at a game that I love and that I'm the best at? Its like Charlie Chaplin losing a Chaplin look-alike contest, which has happened. If I lose the game, or begin to see signs of losing, I'm immediately put off. It becomes worse because I'm the banker by default and its crushing to see the other person rake in the moolah, while I sit there with bare necessities in hand, sometimes not even that.

As luck would have it, the last few games I've played, I've not won. Not even close. For me, even second place by a margin of $500 doesn't cut it. Even when I've played the game against myself, I haven't rejoiced at the fact that I won part of it, but I've reflected on the fact that I've lost the other part. I guess its probably because I've begun to realise what its like being on the other side of the fence. Not like I put the person in a pathetic, pitiable state when I win against them, but I realise that there is another side. I can lose. And by large margin or small, I can be defeated at my own game.

I don't play a shrewd game. I'm not a ruthless businessperson who can do anything to win and I play fair. Somehow, I think I'd begun to think that since its only a game, everyone roundabout uses that ideology when playing and doesn't play a mastermind-type strategy and totally kill me. Regardless of the fact that everyone plays fair [considering I'm the banker, money doesn't escape my eyes], there's no accounting for how going-for-the-kill and shrewd another person can be and how a game can transform them. Which is really what makes me feel bad when I lose is that someone else didn't play as casually or graciously as I did, though we both had equal chances of really making the other person beg. Point being, they took their go, I didn't.

Funnily, this only makes me understand that the game, if it can change anyone else, it changes me too. Instead of being a gracious loser, a good sport, a kind person with no hard feelings, I become a sore loser, a spoilsport and I even get cranky and irritable. Not cool and awesome things to admit on the worldwideweb, but its something I have to get out into the open, so that when I read this again after the passage of some time [considering the first draft is what I publish, always], it'll only make me a more rounded and mature individual and drill into me that people are different, even if the battle field is even at all ends.

So there it is, my admission of my love for Monopoly and the even larger possessiveness for the top spot in the game. I may change post this, I mayn't. This may ward people off and I may have to play Monopoly by myself forevermore, but at least I don't have to live with a pent-up flaw that I refused to acknowledge just because I could hide it.

[the board is always laid for anyone who cares to join me. 5 more players only, no teaming up.]

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

That’s my friend Mudit Ganguly. He’s as crazy about Lady Gaga as the country is about Sachin Tendulkar. and then a little more crazy. and he loves her style, her music and her sensibility and knows every single published detail about her!

this is his entry to the virgin mobile local blogger contest so that he can meet Lady Gaga and her team at the Monster Ball in New York!

And, this is me promoting him! =) please watch and vote! it is the want for a journey, as part of a journey of love, talent and life!

to vote, go to this website


A New Part of Me

As I enter a rather larger domain of my own in life, I realise that there is so much more that I can share with everyone that is a part of who I am and what I like. There is a new part of me that I'd like to excavate into and find plenty to discuss. And after a lot of waiting and very little thinking [impulsive that I am], I've officially started a new blog called "My Roaming Eye". If it isn't evident already, its going to be all about journeys - mental or physical, ones I take and ones I hear or see.

I love travelling and unraveling whatever it is that is in store wherever I go or my mind takes me. Journeying is a rather important facet of inspiration, because you can't exactly take anything forward without having gone there first. And the going takes efforts. Efforts that we need to make, and the effort that I'm fully ready to put into really letting people into my world, quite at the same time as I journey into it.

There will be times where I will revisit something I did ages ago or something that has lost mention in the last few years. Those journeys are really the ones that will make me stronger, make me smarter and just make you a much more integral and internal member of my life, for having shared that with me. The endpoint to this being that there were and will be many starting lines and much baggage on the way, but all of it would only lead to an end someday, and its all part of one journey I want to go on, and hopefully take a few of you with me =)

the new blog address is and I hope you'll join me there as soon as you're as prepared as I am. Not to worry how long from now that is, I'll be waiting at the end of the line =)

Thursday, March 10, 2011


No taste for seasons
as if there were none.
No joy or sorrow meant
for battles lost or won.
craving, yearning
for any kind of love,
a pining soul dying under
weighty decisions made above.

No care for natural beauty
for no concern she'd heard,
Neither a cackle of geese
nor a chirrup of birds
Emotionless she stood
Sleepless she lay
Dreaming, wishing
for vitality to be taken away.

Oh for a change of climate,
oh for a glimpse of the glory
possibly an anecdote, long-forgotten
or a childhood story?
oh for a wish to wish,
or a chance to relive
maybe a passer by who could
out of goodness, give?

but no second glances come
towards her countenance
none yielding to her look
that sought acceptance
ignored, abandoned
and fearful still
living in squalor
out of His free will...

[any suggestions for a title would be welcome]

Saturday, February 26, 2011

Feeling the Feeling

A feeling is not just a come-and-go representation of what we think at the moment. A feeling is really a part of us that needs expression. Almost like the steam building up in a pressure cooker. There's a lot of it, and once it finds even the tiniest gap, the whistle goes off and the steam is let out in a huge burst. Okay, not huge, but you get what I mean. The resultant impact is a visual burst of steam, a squeaky whistle to go with and a bit of heat, and a pretty well cooked serving of dal or vegetable.

The same is with feelings, really. They come out in fits and starts after seeing an opportune time and there's so much too them that they fail to go unnoticed. They have some amount of impact or relativity with someone or the other who goes out to connect with them. Someone's looking at the various areas that the feeling exposes, and someone is looking at the product that the feeling creates. But to you, and solely to you, the feeling means something that is let out of your system. I bet even the pressure cooker looks forward to losing a bit of its steam.

Taking that forward, the reason we're actually okay with letting off this steam and are told not to bottle our feelings inside us is so that there is space for more! We have social and emotional experiences every moment, either conscious or unconscious. To keep it within us and not share what it meant to us or what feelings it arouses is to arrest its impact. Which is why we seek expression. Most of us do so by channelising it into a creative field. I write. and so do a lot of people. What we write is a literal expression of what we're thinking and what we're feeling.

Once the feeling escapes us, and I say escape because it really is trapped and has a lot of better things to do than sit around in a crevice of our mind, it ceases to live in us. It has found a happier place to be [just being polite here. I know how much some of us would rather just let it live inside, rent-free, if nothing else]. That doesn't of course mean that we won't feel something like that again. It means that the feeling we attached to it this time, will not come back for the next time. Its variants may always exist, but THAT feeling won't come back. Like the feeling when you eat chocolate after going on the longest crash diet ever! [3 days. true story.] Point is, that feeling has wandered off to connect with another individual, who would identify with the feeling and give it a new residence.

Now, I've had this experience, as have friends of mine, that they cannot connect with their written or expressed feelings like someone else can. If you read what I've written, full feeling intact, and you go through a wave of emotions and thoughts because of what I wrote, I may not be able to reconnect with my own written word. Something that came out of me. But that's because my mind has now given that space off to another set of feelings and doesn't feel the need to connect back with something that it housed for a long time before letting go. Trying to reverse time and re-feel the feeling is like trying to stuff the steam back into the pressure cooker. Trust me, it will not happen.

And so, at the end of this seemingly endless rant, I know for sure I've let out my feelings on feelings. Even though they may never come back to me, I know there's nothing to regret or want back here. I've felt it, harboured it, thought it through, been on a roller coaster with it, before finally saying good-bye. And I think we had a pretty good time, too. Its just that I don't think I can spend my life, or a large part of it, tied to one feeling just because it was mine at one point in time...


Sunday, February 13, 2011

The Storm of Creation

There's silence before
the storm descends
and silence creeps in after.
In the interlude,
everything is caught within
a stormy breaker and crafter.

It breaks the barriers of quiet,
tearing down the shroud
beneath which lie voices.
As shrieks and howls,
they escape their silent captor,
and they rejoice.

The storm surrounds me
and I, rapt by its beauty,
Am part of its destructive thrill
In the eye of the storm,
caught in a crossfire of thoughts,
I surrender to its will.

It takes me up,
blinds my conscience,
but leaves my creative spirit awake.
As I swish and tumble
in this unexpected rush,
there's more than sanity at stake.

The storm collapses
as do I,
sapped of energy and words.
Resultant broken restraints around,
I step into the light
to see the flighty thought-birds.

As I return to shelter,
past the ruins of
the storm's wild embrace,
I long for it to
enchant me again
with its creative grace...

[Image courtesy - Shiree Gilmore: Eye of the Storm]

Saturday, January 29, 2011

Beating of the Retreat

Republic Day is quite the momentous occasion for our nation. 26th January marks, in layman terms, the birthday of our Indian Constitution. Its celebrated with much gusto and there are battalions and marching bands from all the 3 branches of the armed forces - the Navy, the Army and the Air Force. One also gets to see floats representing each state of the country, showing off their finest as part of the parade from Rashtrapati Bhavan to India Gate. Its quite magical looking, actually, to see a relatively small fraction of such a large population, all awe-struck, watch another relatively small fraction of our country's population perform in the country's honour. Considering how cold the Capital has been this year, the turnout was still huge, which is heartwarming to see from a tv screen telecast live by yours truly, DD National. To be absolutely honest is to be cliche` but I'll still say that it truly enhances one's patriotism, if it doesn't wake it briefly from its slumber. But seriously, it makes me a proud and happy Indian to see my country's constitution being given a birthday bash in such style!

I watch a considerable portion of the parade each year, its kind of hard to avoid it. But this year, I watched something new, something I haven't watched before, because I had no idea about it. Ignorance at its best, I tell you. So when my mum told me about this event called the Beating of the Retreat, that marks the end of the Republic Day celebrations for the year, I wanted to check it out. It is an hour and a half of musical and marching excellence by all the bands that play in the parade, playing various compositions by officers and marching in different formations that are only meant for one to marvel at. The bands come turn by turn, playing 4 or 5 pieces, marching in different directions to either make a flower, or a fortress, or stars in four corners! meanwhile, the camels and horses, with their riders, stand absolutely still, as if transfixed by the effect of the music. The coordination, the flourish with which the leaders twirl their staffs, and then throw them in the air and deftly catch them again, and the grand music completely take over your senses and you have no mind of taking your eyes off the tv screen. It ended with all the four bands coming forward and playing the best possible drum beats and wind instrument medleys I've ever heard. The conductors have such splendour on their faces, showing how happy and proud this makes them feel. As the bands officially retreated, after taking permission from the President and saluting the flag right before sundown, they played "Sare Jahan Se Achcha" which only brought tears of joy to my eyes.

The best moment of the entire event is when, just after the President is escorted to her residence, the whole of Rashtrapati Bhavan, the Parliament House and all the surrounding areas of importance are lit up with lights that shine brighter than the stars put together. Delhi never looked more beautiful, and I cannot wait for the day when I'll see all of it in the flesh, but for now, the image is forever vivid in my memory. Not only for its aesthetic beauty but also for another type of beauty, perhaps patriotically induced, that I can neither describe nor explain. Its like love, and after watching this, I truly fell in love with India all over again.

For those who watched it, lucky you. Really. You will understand what I say, because it takes that understanding to watch these displays year after year. If you haven't, luckily the chances are not lost yet. When its on next year, if nothing else, watch it to test whether my words make any sense. So, 1645 hrs, 29th January, 2012 - the date is set, and the countdown begins.


Wednesday, January 26, 2011


I've always been a free-bird of sorts. Going wherever I want, doing what pleases me, and choosing to believe only what I think is believable. Its quite like the sand in a desert - changing face every now and then and refusing to settle, moved only by the gusts of wind that take with them all that they encounter. I've always been like a particle of sand in the wind. I cannot settle in one place, can't give it a rest once in a while. And complementary to that, I actually enjoy this freedom. But there are times when this freedom gets locked down and I get chained into confines that I cannot get out of. And for the most part, its all in the mind. My mind. The mind that is free, but also houses fear. Fear that buckles me down to my seat. Not in a grounding way, but in a restrictive sense. It renders me helpless without much to repair my state.

Think of a fly trapped in a glass jar. You can see its harrowed state. It bangs against the wall, flits about helplessly, clueless and tries mindlessly to escape. And then, after a rigorous struggle, it settles, not because its patiently anticipating release, but because it has lost. Lost the battle of survival over existence, freedom over captivity, vibrancy over faded hues. Imagine your thoughts, your expression trapped into such a jar, where everyone and everything can see you struggle but can't do much about it. You fight for what you believe in but you're rendered defenseless and the invincibility of your imagination shattered. That's pretty close to how anyone would feel when they're inhibited by their own boundaries, their own rules, their own 'what ifs'. And the bad news is that no one apart from our own person can open the jar lid and set us free.

This inhibition has slowly made its way into my mind too. It constricts the way I think, what I think, the way I write, what I write and most of all, who I am. I'm too scared of what the outside of the jar has got in store for me. Maybe a fly-swatter, waiting for me to escape so it can squish me. Maybe a repellent, waiting to smoke out even the last dregs of my zeal and zest to live out loud. Or just about anything that could shoot me down because I dared to try and find a way out of a jar that I was trapped in. Its more destructive than anything really, because it takes em away from what I truly love being - a grain of sand floating in the wind, care-free.

Maybe if I gathered all my energies, and resolved to escape, I'd probably break my jar as a way out by just banging into it. Who cares what's really outside the jar? As long as I have nothing holding me back, I can't be worried about the way forward. If only I can still trust the wind as much as I did and not wonder about where I'd be lost, I'd know for sure that there's nothing that can make my thought vulnerable to the forces waiting to shatter my imagination's invincible spirit. And then maybe, I'd soar higher than I did before, not because the wind lifted me beyond what it did before, but because this time, I'd do anything and everything to avoid another jar to get trapped into. And now, at the end of this, I'm convinced I'm flying high, because I have reason enough to believe and to live, the way I choose.

Love, Peace and Freedom to All...


Wednesday, January 5, 2011

There comes a time, when life as we know it ends. I heard something to that effect in a movie once. it kind of stuck with me. not because of any special significance, but because i'd kept it on the back burner for this long to sort of try and uncover what that line truly meant to me. I think i finally have an answer.

There are times when the whole world just stops and then, when it restarts after that interlude, you sort of wonder where the time flew, what chanced, where you are now and what the future is. that uncertainty, where you don't know where your life is going, is where the way you knew life has just come to an end.

when you fight, the fight leaves you disoriented for God knows how long. you lose track of where the words went, what each said to the other, who makes it up now, and why you fought in the first place. that just happened to me a few weeks ago and i still cannot let it go. i'm at an utter loss for words, for thoughts and for niceness even, but all without cause. that leaves me blank and i'm probably standing on the dividing line between life as i know it and nothing. i think i'd rather just stay on this line than move anywhere from here. going back doesn't look like an option and moving into nothingness is not something i prefer. probably this is also an end in itself - the end of innocence. the innocence that it'll all be alright someday. the innocence that we're always going to remain friends. maybe that doesn't need to happen all the time. maybe it never happens.

i'm growing up. i kind of have been for a while but this time its a tad bit different and a wee bit difficult. i'm at the threshold of adulthood and childhood. of school and college. of success and failure. and to be honest, i'm scared. not because i may not get what i want or may not be able to achieve my targets, although that is fearful. but i'm scared of the thought that there's a lot i'm going to have to leave behind in the bargain - my school, my friends, my house and even a bit of my edginess. its going to be that place called "the real world out there" that i'll officially gain an entry into. here's truly where life as i know it is ending, and the countdown has begun. maybe i'm ready, maybe i'm not. maybe i'll manage, maybe i won't. but the point is, its going to be over, and i cannot force myself back. here, going back from this line isn't even possible. its an abyss back there. its a one-way escalator that i've got to climb. and lets hope to God that the climb is worth it.

there's no controlling love, affection, hate, loathing. they come and go as they please and sometimes stick around longer than one would like. there's no escape and there's absolutely no turning back. there's tonnes of regrets though. i think the day that you start loving or stop hating a person, or begin loathing and end being affectionate towards someone does life really alter its course. it takes the train to a whole new platform altogether. some of us like being on this trip, others are wondering what we're doing with a ticket in our hands. at this point, i'm liking the trip but i can't quite see the platform. i think my train's still in that dark, deep tunnel, or its still cruising in the night-time through a forest, with no way for me to look out the window and place myself somewhere, for some peace of mind. its tough for someone as impatient as me to sort of deal with this sea of darkness, but i guess that when i reach the platform in the morning, the sun will be out to greet me and i'll probably know where i landed up. for now, the anticipation could either kill me or lull me to sleep. i guess i'll choose the latter. its a happy place to be in, and i do like surprises. again, lets just hope to God that the train doesn't get derailed and push me down another track that i have no clue of. the wait is just too long already...

conclusively, at this point in time, life as i know it is ending in more ways than one. i finally know what those words mean, to me at least. there are boundaries i might be crossing and there are thresholds i'm yet to cross. however odd the circumstances, at this point, all i can think of is, "between dark and day, and night and light, the interim is always confusingly beautiful." i thus leave you, wondering and wandering, wherever you may choose to be.