It's December Ducky !

This month always has special surprises for me. Not to mention the eternal weddings, birthdays that I am expected to attend, with a hope to re-patch my relatively poor social skills. I ain't absolutely asocial as you all know, but my socializing gets confined gradually to small circle. What you don’t know is, that it takes conscious effort. With time, I get comfortable more with books and small talks, than I get with people with their usual conversations. And I believe, people get connected to me faster than the usual pace. I feel responsible for maintaining a distance to develop and evolve for themselves.

Strangely, absolute strangers fascinate me. Their stories inspire me to think laterally across my existent comfort zones, and I end up telling all these observations to my inner core of pals and eventually, in my write-ups. But, the sheer presence of people whom you know for sure, will read anything you write, sends chills all along my spine. Of responsibility and of shame, to unable to reciprocate a different texture of love to all of them.

Updates from my life, I am doing all good. Reading loads and pondering a lot. I wish to take out some time to travel, and yeah, I often feel creepy for not having joined the lucrative jobs I bagged earlier. But it's all the part of the cycle.Even you have your up's and down's yeah ? Tell me about it !

I was in my routine, until I had three notifications this evening. Three lengthy text messages, narrating how my writing inspired them in its own tiny fashion. I am more than overwhelmed, I have thanked them obviously.

As I ponder deep inside, I was questioning our basic instinct to fall for appreciation. We love praises. We adulate upvotes. We crave for compliments. Is that a good thing afterall? Do we often need some external force to hail our inner awesomeness? Unusually, I like someone appreciating me, but if given a chance, I would avoid that.

But, this article is a tribute to all the goodness embedded in every soul, to appreciate tiny aspects of reality, surrounding themselves. So, what did I do about it? I must have written some 30 odd letters, in the last three weeks. To many people - Close friends, family, relatively okayish acquaintances and absolute strangers. Who mean something to me, who think I mean something to them.

I strongly believe that words will last longer than virtual media activity. Thus, satiated my tryst with emotional chunk of my mundane life, with scribbling my heart out.

For the rest, where I’ve failed to gather postal addresses, here take my embrace. And my honour to your empathy. I speak less, but you know I mean a lot when I do.

Ink Stain

A fell bent of mind is upon him. I can speak no words of solace to comfort him. We have been geeky amigos since childhood. Perhaps my pen can deliver the fluid balm he needs and soothe his agitated soul. Ever since we learned to write, we wrote as often and as naturally as fish swim or eagles fly. This letter, though, had to be special. The thrill and the subtle inspiration should let him get over the malady that has been bothering him.

Took out the feather that he gifted me when we once set out on a trek amidst the woods. I have been using that as a bookmark to explore the book-bound worlds we cherished together. As I fondled it’s soft texture, I realized how symbolic my friend can be, whose gift tokenism depicted both my sensitivity and my ordered synchronization of thoughts.

I set to shave off a few fibers at the tip with a sharp blade, and I was reminded of the miracles we created together to expand our minds. Our outings were in the libraries and the coffee shops on how to read, dissect and rewrite. Learning sessions they were, still are. We grew together as individuals and that growth has brought in many combinations of our reflexes. Leaving the feather in a bowl of water for an hour, I was lost in the heaps of notes we wrote together. There were more red ovals than tick marks, I smiled as he never tried to flatter me. The only way to grow is to re-do the gray areas, his voice echoed as the sweetness of the yellowed papers tinged my nostrils.

I tapered the feather-tip as an archer treating her arrow-head. A 45 degree cut is made to it, twice. When the edge became sharp, like his ideas, I created a split in the end, which resembled his divided past. Bending those two horns together, I was recollecting how our silent eye-gazing exercises has brought us to points of no return. With his wife dead last week, he had become a paranoid. I wanted him to know that I appreciate his tastes and decisions, and so the feather was now adorned with wavy streaks of wood brown, his favorite color. SIGH. I have made my gift ready. 

A Quill.  And some Papyrus rolls for the pulp representation of my soul. 

 

“ Σε λατρεύω my star! It’s all melancholy, pondering over how we should take things forward. But, do you realize....”

I was scribbling for long, before I knew I was staining the sheets. With tears. I am so proud of my dear friend, for choosing to be the master of your own universe.

As I was putting on my overcoat, heading to visit him, I was thrown into apprehensive future anticipations. Would he think that I mistook him? Would he fear sharing his contemplations in the times to come?

Ha ! I tittered. Deep down, I knew he would kiss the papyrus rolls and the quill, and give me a million dollar smile, with those ink-stained lips.

# Reposting from my Quora Blog - http://threeminutestories.quora.com/Ink-stain

Under the Rainbows

Folding the dreams that gave me a warm sleep like my quilts, I woke up to the calm rain striking my window pane. The coziness is not attributed to the encapsulated air between the covers but to the solace my mind has acquired over a few days. Droplets of drizzle-like memories which impounded on my etching past, made not writing about them impossible, almost next to kissing a cute little baby when taken into arms.

If I were to say that I am a soul with humanly experiences, I would submit myself to negation. Because, all the philosophy and the due outputs are out of your nasty thought twinges, only once you relish the homosapien delicacies. To some it is Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. But to emotional freaks like me, it is those flavours of love. Tasting like a Rainbow.

Why is that we love? Someone, something, somewhere.

Beyond dimensions and beneath conventions.

I realise, it’s not about attraction or convenience. It’s about connection. I love reading because I realise I am not the only person with a particular set of ideas. I love writing because I know that I am not the only person longing to read about them. It is simply justifying one’s self-admiring persona.

Then, what is the reason for something called self-less love? I hear it often, experience it rarely, but empathize with it constantly. Mind urges me to dissect them case by case. Yet, gives up only to realize that I am not just a drop in an ocean, but an illusion of being a drop itself.

Parents. There is a special reason why their ordinary traits assumed extraordinary influences upon me. Dad. How he managed being ambitious in his career and yet, never compromising on the qualitative and the quantitative aspects of loving his doting daughters, beats me. Mom. She is this unnamed feminist who in fact cried with joy when she got two daughters, only to realise they would just imitate her to become mature women. Calling their love as sacrificing would be an inappropriate christening. But, understanding the reasons which give them joy, will give you memories. Of fondling medals in a race called life....

They are just visible examples. But there are umpteen forces who still don’t show up. It’s not show time yet, may be. It takes a sleepless night to assimilate this. As it did to me yesterday.

How do I thank the guy who first told me I love you? Because if not for him, I would never understand what does it feel like being a rainbow. Of hormones tangled in assertive urges. And the matured ability to reject by seeing beyond them.

How do I thank my friend for believing in my worlds and pushing above my potential? Because if not for her, I would never take any of my inherent capabilities for granted. 

How do I thank that co-traveller in the train for sharing his life’s miseries? Because if not for him, I would never assimilate what does it take to destroy a rainbow. People and their self-centered desires.

How do I thank my hater? Because if not for her, I would never know that even rainbows have to be made and re-made.   

Love is all above sense and sensibility, I told myself.

After all, what is my rainbow? It’s my inner world. It’s the beautiful receptionist who sits nears the entrance desk, checking the details of events and stamps an entry/exit mark on their sheets, to let them happen to me. It’s my conscious which has adapted itself over the years to acceptance. To take pain and joy, as they embrace me.

All that is needed for a rainbow to be visible, is water in the air and light from the source. If you take in, tears in your eyes and the light of experience, will bring the colours of life to the main stage. Just like that. 

It’s really awful to stress the need to hope for it. Because Andy Dufresne was not wrong in The Shawshank Redemption, when he wrote..

Remember Red, hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies. 

And no rainbow will give you the deception of success or failure. But only the reality of tasting life as it is. How it cooks a story for you is beyond your comprehensibility.

Open up! The world’s waiting!

Yes, it’s been quite a while since I wrote something for myself. Or rather did something to ‘self’. To admit, life has been clogged down to postulates of career and expectations of great standards. It’s good, as you realise and sharpen your substance that way. It’s bad, as you tend to disengage with the sensitive side of your present, going nowhere in ecstatic bliss which was in your soul always. In the past.

Now, what I have done is what I thought I would share with you. Hope that helps. At least to someone out there who think life has become monotonous. Or to incite a debate on this. Trust me; I love both magic’s and logics J

• Point 0: Break the rules. Just do it. People defy them because they don’t fit to one's intellectual grounding or happy zoning. That’s no offence. Go create a ‘your’ music band in a coffee shop or sell newspaper along with your paper boy some Sunday. (# In no sense I meant to break the traffic rules or the criminal law here)

• Point 1: Spend time with family. You know you have been great on this planet so far. (It doesn’t matter even if you don’t think so, because you have - Just that you are due realisation), Spread your socialising and re-bonding with family as well. Because at one point of time, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram will all lose their charm. Family hugs would not. Ever.

• Point 2: Try out smiles on absolute strangers. Help them out. Ah! Here comes the pessimist Human inside. What if the society harms me even if my intentions are noble? Well, Okay. Be good, nothing defenceless in that. As I dint negate you not to be careful as well. I started teaching my mess delivery boy how to speak decent English. 5 minutes a day. Is that huge? Yes, to that boy.

•  Point 3: Love the animals around. I was this woman, who would hate the mere sight of dogs/cats. And, ironically I started feeding this stray dog with Parle-G biscuits thinking 3 rupees per day is not much a deal. Trust me, after the 4^th day, you WILL get connected. Now, I wait for the tail-wagging part when it sees me return home.

• Point 4: Read books as well as people. Bookish knowledge will give the base; social outlook will build your superstructure of attitude and empathy. Nothing beats a person who understands everyone. Respect starts there. Self and external. If you come across a person who hurts you, congratulate yourself. You just hiked a mountain. Of self-assimilation.

• Point 5: Travel. Without a camera. Yes, that means no thoughts on Picasa, DSLR and a profile pic change. Life is so simple that way. Think. Ponder. Dwell in them while you travel through those dusky roads or these concrete metros. You will realise you no longer have to make a lot of time with your heart. You already have it.

• Point 6: Awaken the artist in you. Paint. Music. Philosophy. Strategies. Dance. Just begin. You don’t have to win an Oscar. So no pressure. You will know how your thoughts flow. The best part is, you can change your flow charts through modulations :)

I can list 100 such. Even you can. Infact anyone can. But that’s not the point.

We have to start implementing them. With true spirit and accountability. To ourselves. 

Don’t write daily/weekly/monthly plans. They don’t work. Even if they do, you are just translating yourself, not to strengthen your conviction. Training yourself to be self-tuned robot. Don’t do that. We are animate. Let that inherent quality be with our tiny fingers till the end. To draw our big Painting. Of life.

Yes, we are yet to showcase it. Picture abhi baaki hai mere dost !!

P.S I am all okay. Just that I pasted a diary extract to my blog. Godspeed !  

His Royal Highness....

I have always had this mania for tigers. The great Panthera Tigris. I can still recollect - I cried at an unbearable pitch when my parents were taking me away from the tiger cage, at a local zoo. Umpteen Animal planet and NG videos showcasing the majesty still cross my memories, added to many photographs in my hard disk. Be it his royal way of strolling amidst the wild jungles, the black stripy bright yellow flexible body or just the sharp eyes, I have always loved them. If only I had a permit from PETA, his royal highness would have already been my husband. Such is my love.

This rose to an all-new level seeing a 2004 release, Two Brothers. One of the most amazing animal adventure fables ever captured on silver screen. A tale of two tiger cubs – Kumal and Sangha. The director, Jean-Jacques Annaud is cool enough to take us deep into the soul of the plot rolling on. We must have thought only about human survival when attacked by savage animals. At least that is what our evolution says, taming and taking control over them. However, have you ever empathized how hard it would be for the same animal facing hurdles literally every moment?

Plot is simple, two cubs and a mother, departed by human selfish means, surviving through tough phases and converging at last. But the flick made me think of many dimensions, which are not so often taken in. The typical nature of human dominance over nature, mother tiger’s agony when departed from cubs, their resistance against cruel circus taming and the difficulties they experience when brought far away from  nature’s lap. So natural, so convincing even for people like us, who already lost the sparkle touch of nature.

This slowly drifted me to the current scenario of tigers. 10,000 were alive a century back, leaving less than 4,000 now.  Both of us, the wild cats and we, the social animals struggle alike for survival. Yet, so much discrimination - Deprived of their basic rights. So uncivilized. 

How could the world's favorite animal be a poacher’s barbaric target? I leave it to the morals of our tech-savvy yet ethics-deprived world.

A Starlet’s Hope !

        

If I am flying like a bird,

I will glide over the skies, letting my feet touch the rainbow.

If I am urged to write a letter,

It can probably be in a book that millions read someday.

If I am dying to love you,

I laugh at your childish attempts trying to scale my unreadable depths.

Call it the Destiny or The God, who gave me this adorable present.

My  life.

I want to live to the fullest and to pamper it, with delight and concern.

This might be absurd for many, well, it is supposed to be.

Calling me crazy may titillate you, I am glad in that case too.

But watch your step, honey darling !

For I am gonna be the voice of tomorrow.

With that unflinching spirit you aspire to possess.

And with that inner beauty you would die to preserve.

This is my life, sweet like a melody. I hope you find it too.

That melody you are destined to. Maybe after a year. Or more.

But, it would be perfect, like this starry night, if you can trace it Now.

-    Dedicated to a lady, whose name is synonymous to Life. Sarah Kay !

Is Geeky the new trendy ?

(Citation: Here you = that clod of society which plays pranks at us, not you literally / figuratively. If you like geeks too or if you are a one, welcome aboard and join the club! )

With pride, I put my shoulders aloft and boast – “I am a geek, and I love being a one”. Yes, we are the new swanky. With bits and bytes of inputs from the surroundings and life’s interesting lessons, you should have already grasped this. If you know the most expecting and yet the inevitable pattern of life, witnessing trend cycles, this wouldn’t come as a surprise. Way back, it was the day of monarchs’ and dictators’. Yesterday, it’s that of the trendy and funky fellas’. But today, it is UNDOUBTEDLY ours!

Well, why are we so irresistible?

Here are the answers for those subtle questions lingering in some corner of your head. You thought we are the ones who have zero interest in worldly affairs. But we have mastery over anything we take up - mere scaling greater depths, beyond the expectations and scope. Aaron Swartz must have been tagged an oddball all his life, but after his technical break through, editorials were written lauding him all the way. Must be the same case with Bill gates or Steve jobs too. We believe in the ultimate excellence rather than impressing you, the high society.

You presumed that we are bad at maintaining relations. But, let me take you down with stats. Majority of the people in relationships wanted a person who would take care of them, not the unwanted ‘activity’ in social networking sites. That’s where we beat you dimension-less. We are caring and bear the bags of commitment if we love something.We are better lovers and the best trustables. We allot time, not pre-defined schedules. As we remember things better than anyone else, we pick out the best stuff out. Be it advice, gifts or solutions. Did we already surpass you? Take no offence, we are agile!

You also pre-defined our mindsets as not socially accepted. But we are a lot practical and know the in’s and out’s of a proposal. We may not tattoo our bodies with sport stars’ names, but we know how technically the match was played. Even our match is lost; we wait in sanity instead of pouring out illogical excitements. In short, we are a lot better than what you expect us to be. Mature and coherent. Better deal with it.

Now, this is deep within:

Fashion trends have a tendency to repeat themselves. One minute you are appreciated for your glossy dress and the next you can be totally out of date. I say it is good to stick to basics- you're never out of the loop, for basics are never boring.

Trying to be nerdy and portray that attitude is not always successfully carried out by everyone, nor is it an easy task for anyone. It is an art and art can express one’s self in a myriad of ways such as: emotionally, mentally, culturally, religiously, and in ways that help us to understand things in deeper meaning. However, this is not to say that you must entirely revamp your life style. It is okay folks; don’t worry now. Simply do whatever you feel you are most comfortable doing and if you eventually do plan to look trendier, add a blob of the unbeatable *geek soup*. Because having a geek’s mindset is an essential survival skill and bedrock for many in today’s world. Accept it, even though it is tough to take in.

Suggestion, if you want to take: Remember that pimply, spectacles studded old- fashioned lad/lass in your school/college, who was made fun of/ bullied by everyone? Better be nice to them, at least from now on. Chances are that he/she might end up being the headlines of the newspaper or the bearer of a 1st class magazine’s guest column. Even worse, you might work for him.

Hero of the day !

Ever felt a thank you - hand shake filling tonnes of satisfaction and inspiration? Experienced it today as I scribed English exam for a boy who is blind by fate, but impregnable and strong by choice. When I got a chance to write his exam, neither he nor did I expect it would turn out to be such a great day in our lives.

“Hi akka, here you are. I never had a scribe who came this early to write my exam”, greeted the smiling Varun kumar, today’s lead role.

“Shall we begin?”; I pushed, worrying if we could complete the exam on time or not. 

Took a minute to breathe and he started reading the question paper through my eyes. The question paper was of 12-pages. long. It all began with the Stalin’s and Leo Tolstoy’s contrast versions from the book - Animal farm (George Orwell). Having read that novel, I really knew how good and analytical his answers were. I was reading the comprehension- he listened to all those lengthy para’s just for once, answered all with astute accuracy. As I was writing, we slowly moved to our life lines. 

Showing me a recorder + player, he told that is the only source of his exam preparation - also shared by 4 of his friends. How he lost his eyes might be an normal accident, but the way he transformed and took life serious is not ordinary. Its beyond our senses, I have seen it. Born to a son of an electrician, the way he challenged life is a face slap to many of us. Fate beat him in the most sensitive issues, but he kept the fight going. Never gave up. 92 % current aggregate. 95% + is his target. Is there anything that could stop him?

Economics was his heart throb, he said as he blushes. I blushed when he said I was the best scribe he ever got, as I dint want to tell any answers. He understood that mere helping in such domains is not an aid, but a slow paced betrayal. Guess what, we are done with the exam before an hour. Reason – keenness at peaks, he feels bad about the crises not the disability. He strongly cares about reforms that are to be done in those areas.

I told him a few inspirational anecdotes and stories that moved me. They just add fuel to the fire of his Will - that will take him to the peaks. Of perfection and exaltation. When I asked how good his friends study? the answer came, “Talent and hard work can be compared, but sincerity and determination? How? The only thing that worries us is that our hard work is scaled up by scribes, who are often not so serious. They are good, charity stuff they feel. They need to empathize with our feelings. I always wonder how and why these mere numbers decide our destiny” 

With a great degree of happiness, I submitted the answer sheet, vicariously. We departed with a bond of I scribing for his final exams. I don't know if he will beat 95 this time. But LIFE. No compromise. 

He will just do it. 

When was your last letter posted ?

“Take care dear, Aunt Rohini”

By then tears rolling down my cheek were palpable. Yes, I was crying, reading a letter that was sent to me ages back by a person who no longer exists. It was a small letter, yet spoke thousand emotions. I always wondered if anything apart from in-person communication or counseling could bring upon a striking impact on other lives. I neither did have an answer then, nor did I respond to that short note. Now I know.

Letters are the personified sheets of pulp that verbalize one’s heart. They are the songs of immense deliverance giving endurance to face life’s biggest challenges. Consider Indira Gandhi as an example. Letters, hundreds of them, written to her by Nehru, made her see the world in her palms.

Later on I sensed how these actually work. Words, often written than spoken make a deeper impact, for they never fade away. Sadly, our days are numbered and trapped under the mercy of social networking sites and technological innovations. We are organized by reason and logic. Is emotional quotient missing?

Receiving a hand-written note wishing good luck, coupled with strands of blessings is the best thing that can ever happen to the habitants of the concrete jungle, who are lost in a disarray of things. Writing is a dying culture which would be too late to stop before we realize what we might miss. Rejuvenation is in our hands, take out a sheet of paper and jot down what comes to your heart and drop in a post box.

Conceiving of the number of letters I ought to write, and the sparks in the receiver’s eyes when they would behold, I resigned. I know I am late, but there is always a first time.

If letters are the articulation of love, let them be recognized so.

Who are you ?

Unexpected holidays, I was jobless at my home, in short, doing nothing but, eating and sleeping. Unaccountable boredom. I’ve decided to give a new dimension to these holidays. Why not start from tomorrow?

5.00  A.M 

Woke up early to catch up a morning jog in peace, Yeah, the city is peaceful only then. One hour strict jog, with Akon and Linkin park hitting their octanes in my ears and then puffing heavily, I sat on the park bench. Suspiring, I was staring the beauty around. Then came a handsome guy, must be of my age. He sat next to me. He had a known face, yeah, I had seen him somewhere. He gave a warm smile, and I smiled back.

“Hello”

“Hi”

“How are you?”

“Do u know me ? “

“Of course ! I have been with you for the past 19 years”

Wait……Past 19 years……Must be my neighbour Rakesh or my high school crush Arjun…But he is none of them. I was pushed back into thoughts. This fellow seems to be a very close acquaintance of mine, God, I barely knew him. Helpless situation.

“I’m so sorry, I could not recognise you”

“No regrets, I am not gonna reveal myself, unless YOU find it out”

“…………”

A smile again…and he walked away. I was gaping the way he strided.

1:00 P.M

I was listening to some fluffy bollywood songs.

He sat next to me, “ Hello” again..

“ How did you get in ?”

“ THE door is open, Priyanka”

I saw the door, I scolded myself, yeah, it’s wide open.

“ Wassup ?”

“ I already told you I couldn’t recollect who you are”

“ That’s okay, Tell me, Howz life ?”

Perfect. I’m a dumbo. I couldn’t recall who he was, Yet, I donno, with some unknown emotion, I continued speaking to him.

And then, like morning, he left.

This time, I felt, my confusion increased exponentially.

7:00 P.M

I was heading for some bookstore to grab my favourite Author’s new release. It was him again, with that same smile.

“ Hello”

“ Who are you? I really donno who you are and where you’ve come from. Pardon me if I really forgot, But please do tell, WHO ARE YOU ?”

“  Really ? U forgot me ? Means u no longer needed me ?”

“…………….”

“  I thought you really loved me ”

Awh !! This is going to be fun. I don’t know who the h*** he was and he claims I loved him. Anger gushing out.

“ Get lost, What are you talking ? You are not even my friend. I don’t know who you are”

“ Then, who are your friends? ”

“ None of your business ”

“ Don’t  be a fumer, feel free to tell me, to whom else can u speak so transparent ? ”

Confused, I started listing out a few.

“  Nakshatra, Roshini….”

“ Okay, Who is your bestie? ”

Struck a chord, I used to tell “I am my best friend” in my childhood.

Thoughts triggered out, I was seriously thinking. Yeah, I have changed a lot. I am no longer liking myself. Adopted to situations around, lots of compromises and alterations. I am no longer the good old myself.

Now, I realise, he is my past attitude. He is my Alterego, He is my past self, He is my updater. Everything he spoke made perfect sense to me then.

His words resonating in my ears then

“Life gives you many hurdles, it doesn’t mean that you have to change yourself and go with that flow, Swim upstream if you want to. But, make sure that at the end of the day, though you are left with nothing in your hand, you have your attitude with you”

Sunshine shone upon my cerebration.

The next day,

5:00 A.M

Jog, I sat on the park bench, thinking…

He came again, and gave that warm smile again.

But, this time,

The smile was rejoicing, the smile was soothing and that smile was my regained life…