Bit by bit

The foggy dusk envelopes, all that the eyes could see. A fiery orange sky gives way to darkness. The Earth revolves, unnoticed.

Bit by bit.

Time goes by, change sets in. 
Unnoticed, at first. Painful.

Bit by bit.

The world, the people go on. Indecisive, frustrated, aimless, lost, dazed. They meet their dwellings, temporarily - to get lost in the maze again, in the crowd. To lose themselves, make themselves into automatons.

Bit by bit.

We are alienated - from our emotions, their expression. Forced to become something we are not. We shield ourselves, take cover of indifference.

Bit by bit.

Ways meet, ways diverge. Distances grow. Bonds die a silent death. Feelings leave,

Bit by bit.

Everyday, the world reveals itself. The picture becomes bigger. Reality becomes harsher, empathy rarer. My heart corrodes, my soul is scraped. My hope begins to give up

Everyday,

Bit by bit.

To ugly is to human?

I never found myself pretty, though I would like to believe that I am beautiful, in an unconventional manner, which has nothing to do with the way I look and everything to do with what I am - what I am as a person and you just can't reach that beautiful person if you have already tagged me on the basis of appearance. Finding that person, knowing her, requires patience, a lot of patience and a lot of time.

Really, I don't think I am pretty or maybe before I could understand what it is to "look" pretty, I was given a certain image, a certain definition of the word to consume, and I could never fit in.

The vessel in which my soul moves is far from perfect and if I start listing the flaws, I may run out of words.

"Oh, you ARE pretty! You just need to dress up properly, maybe a little make up will do. You just don't pay attention to your looks. They are important. That is probably why, you never had a boyfriend!"

( Really? Love me for the comfy-in-trackpants-girl that I am or don't love me at all :P)
Okay, I know the world is shallow and rarely someone will stop to look beyond the outer layer. Its ok. I can wait.

It only happens in reel life and not real life and I'm being too idealistic?
Who knows? I might as well try! 

It got worse when I decided to get my hair cut short (very short) recently...

Friend : You don't look like a girl. Someone will actually think you are a guy and you're traveling in the women's coach of metro! *giggle*

(Ok, I think I'm getting what you are trying to say)

Me : Umm.. Earrings? These dangling earrings?

Friend : Who would notice the earrings? *giggle*

(Ok, now I know what you're trying to say.)

Me : Is it funny?

Friend : Of course, don't you find it funny, Moureena! It is funny! *giggle*

Me : I don't think so.

Friend : Sorry *giggle giggle giggle*

(That not so honest apology probably did more harm than the joke itself)

A brief silence, and then more giggles follow.

Me : Now what?

Friend : Oh I just remembered your episodes of anger during college days.

( Yes, those instances when I chose to speak out my mind, to tell that what you did hurt me, to tell that what you did wasn't acceptable- all this is definitely comic, something that should be laughed at. Only the wearer knows where the shoe pinches!)

So there are some standards of being a girl that I don't qualify. Also, expressing your emotions, to your friends, isn't something you should do, you'll probably be laughed at, even months or years later.

That's all you want to experience at the end of a tiring day, isn't it?

Honestly, except some instances, I am very comfortable with however I look- whether the appearance is feminine enough or not. I am comfortable with the imperfections ( Those dark circles? Those are nothing short of medals & I'm proud of them! I earned those, trading my sleep and on a few occasions- tears for sleepless nights, when I worked or read to my heart's content! )

For the people who think the outer cover is imperfect, ugly.. They should not at all try to look beyond, because what lies there is worse. Beyond the skin, rest the imperfections which even scare me and set me in a frenzy to look for help, to find solutions. It is a place where continuous analysis of my past, present and future actions goes on. It is where my fears run amok. It is where the hesitation hides, it is where the confidence drowns. It is where hopes and faith choke and crumble. It is where the thoughts grumble. It is the favourite haunt of regrets. A place where is pain that expectations beget. Where pragmatism ridicules the dreams, where the need of affection screams. Where unwarranted attachment, dependence and selfishness reside.
It is a continuous tussle between the positive and the negative, between overcoming and giving up.It is a dark, ugly place very few people are familiar with.
Behind the veil of spring, it is a cold desert where it rains everyday. 

And still, in its entirety, it is a part of me. It is something I live with, something I encounter everyday. Something that pushes me to build myself, that teaches me to fight.

If to err is to human, is being imperfect, being ugly human too?

I would like to believe so. All this ugliness, this imperfection, this tussle makes me what I am. 

It makes me human and I'm learning to accept myself, as a whole,too.

Mistaking streetlight for the sun

It was a usual, boring rickshaw ride from metro station to Kamla. I was doing my usual, favourite thing - looking around and inevitably, involuntarily making faces whenever the rickshaw crossed one of those awful speed breakers. 
While the rickshaw moved on and I was peeking out, I was happy with the fact that the Sun was still up.
Wait. No.
I mistook a street light for the sun!
I laughed at my faulty perception.
And because of the surprising ways my brain works, I suddenly realised -
Mistaking streetlight for the Sun, isn't that something I've done before? Isn't that something all of us do, at some point of time or the other?
Mistaking the unimportant for the important? Or maybe, exaggerating a problem, which might not be that severe as we make it to be?
Perception makes all the difference!

Ordeal

I am

In the middle of a tunnel-
Damp, dark
A long way I've come
Oblivion,
Haunts me
The end
I cannot see.

A speck of light
I yearn for
To make way to me
Through the dust storm.

I'm bogged down
Smeared with dirt
I bleed
Carrying on seems
Too big a deal
It exhausts me
To even breathe
I choke, I shiver
My thoughts have drained me
Its hard to believe
that the dreams I cherished
Are no longer with me
Hues have left my imagination
Its all grey
Its a cold desert
As far as I see

I carry on
Its a steep climb.

A leap of faith
For a goal unknown-

For the borrowed dreams

And the lack of my own
For a dazed consciousness
For the clarity gone,
For numerous voices
Inside my head
that play havoc-
Credit to them for the indecisiveness

For I can't decide
Which road to tread
The beaten path,
The one not taken
Or leave a trail

I walk alone,
monotonously
Carry on
This ordeal.

Clean Slate

This little slate of mine,
Been with me
From the beginning of time
The earliest conscious memory 
That I recall
Of its purity
The rich black colour - the beauty
The corners intact - all
The lessons were learnt
With gentle strokes of chalk
Gliding smoothly, with love
Over this little slate of mine

Abrasions of time
The lessons left behind
Patches of grey
The dull hue
Of things that nothing could erase-undo,
Marks, scars so deep -
They would not heal
The little chasms with their mouths open
At times would mock,at times would weep
Chipped corners, 
indelible dark impressions
On this little slate of mine.

Painting it all over again
Hid some flaws, but
Couldn't fill the empty space,
Elaborated some channels
Of the old, familiar pain
Can I trade it with some other?
Can I make it new?
Wash it clear, of all the blue
Erase, let go of all that is untrue?
Restore it, make it whole
This little slate of mine.

Time eroded, time will mend
This is how I would like it to end
till I find the fix
A change
Within, without - or a mix
I would keep it in my embrace
Held close to my heart
This battered, burnt, hurt
Yet integrated - strong..
little slate of mine.

Reality and Fiction

"And then the young woman tells her that the patient, Ashoke Ganguli, her husband, has expired."

I close the book. I look around. The world around is still the same. Everyone in the metro is doing there own thing, completely unaware of the disaster that occurred between the pages of that book. I try reading further, I read a page or two before I reach Rajiv Chowk, I get down. I go past an avalanche of people, trying to convince myself that it was just a character, made up of words, ideas and imagination and it shouldn't bother me this way. 
Words really have the power to move you, don't they?

The Namesake. I've been reading this book for quite some time now. I read it on my way to Rajiv Chowk, daily. In absence of a companion, the monotony of metro rides is nothing short of maddening. For some time, I did nothing in that duration, except for observing people, over hearing their conversations (unintentionally) and wondering why do so many people decide to plug in earphones and block out the noises around and listen to music - why are people not comfortable in their own company? 

Ok, seems even I can't enjoy my company on such a ride everyday and this is where books came to my rescue. On the way back, I have the company of Akanksha, who is my link to the residence memories, to good old days, to college - a familiar face in the crowd. 

Coming back to where I started... I never thought fiction could affect me this way. The character - Ashoke Ganguli, died unattended, unexpectedly, with no one from his family by his side."But he dodged death once, why couldn't he do this once more?" I thought.Because life is like that. Unpredictable. It will seldom give you another chance. And this connection, is probably where, the difference between fiction and reality starts waning.
It starts waning when you come across incidents you can relate to, when you come across sentences that you feel are written, are meant just for you, when you feel the joy and the pain the characters go through and finding something like this just makes your day.
I can still recall the time I read "The five people you meet in heaven". Eddie, the protagonist, served in the army and was shot in the leg once. Years later he describes how his leg still hurt when he used to get off his bed. I winced as I read it and amazed myself when I realised what I did.

And the time I read "Mr. Rosenblum's list." The beautiful journey that a German couple undertakes to blend in, to adjust in the English society, set up in the time of a world war ( I forgot which one). I could connect to it because that's what I have been trying to do for a few years now, trying to adjust in a land far away from home!

I also came across "The fault in our stars." Honestly, I thought the claims of it being tear inducing and heartbreaking were exaggerated. Until I read it till the end. The last line did it for me. I remember walking from one room to another, being unable to understand what was happening to me. After all, it was just a book..a book of fiction.. A few written words.. Ideas and imagination strewn together.. Bound by the sheer hard work of the writer...

Then yesterday, I read this incident of Ashoke's demise in the book and it shook me. Maybe because that is the kind of death that I dread, maybe everyone does. Confronting it in the book for a while was what left me a bit sadder for the day.

I think it is absolutely beautiful and mysterious that we can relate to written words like this. It assures you that people have been in your shoes, they have felt what you feel and even more, that there is hope and most importantly - you are never alone. It is because of this, perhaps that books make such awesome companions. They open in front of you a window to a different world, allow you to travel without moving ( or become your partner on the go) and introduce you to people who end up affecting your lives - at times, subtly and at times, drastically.

And make you feel, that you are not alone, never :) 

Introspection

5 more days and I'll begin my second stint at Delhi. Things are going to be different. Having experienced a string of failures before, prospects of failing again scare me. A lot. But not so much so that I give up before trying again, definitely not.

The living conditions are going to be different. I knew, someday I will miss residence, inspite of dirty loos and the infamous mess food. Well, I guess it is pretty normal to miss the place where you spent three years with an amazing bunch of people and have so many memories and moments worth revisiting. A part of me also tells me that I have to move on and carve my way to better things, a way that leads me to other places in life. There is so much to be done, and wallowing in a pool of attachment will lead me nowhere. So much has to be compensated for, so many flaws have to be worked upon, many doubts to be dealt with. Its a climb which is only going to get steeper, till I reach the summit. The most difficult ones to conquer are the summits within, those illusions of inability and helplessness, the feeling that you have lost control over your own life. But then, they are illusions. They are hills which might seem intimidating, but its upto you if you want to circumvent them, climb them or make a way through them. 

I have to confront my fears too. It is really funny how all the things I try to run away from, the things I try to avoid just have a way of popping up again and again in my life - maths, metro rides, history- things I am bad at, things that scare me are all there for me to deal with. Also, those bothersome "What if?" questions. I don't even want to get started on them!

But what is this distress for? Is it not my duty, an obligation that I do something in my life, with my life? 
I don't really know. At times, I feel exhausted, to the extent that I feel depraved of the energy to even dream, to think of something worth doing, worth achieving, worth devoting my life to. I think, I over think, but fail to see the road ahead. A map is totally out of question when I can't even figure out where the path under my feet is going to take me or if it is there in the first place. Some place inside my head, in some dusty neglected corner, I know there is a book of my lofty dreams and the things I want to do to bring about a positive change, to be remembered dearly, lovingly after I am gone - I wrote it myself! But the illusion of inability becomes so overpowering and crippling that I can't even gather enough courage to reach out to it, wipe away the dust and live by every word. Over time, the world does that to you, right? It saps out hope and energy out of you.

When you are supposed to confirm to so many ideas, ways of life, to opinions of others on daily basis and you are not even independent to think for yourself - for your actions have consequences, which are bound to affect people around you.. You tend to forget yourself. You try talking to yourself, you try listening to who you are, what are your passions and what is it that you want to do and don't get a reply. The only way out is to give in, to confirm, to walk on a path that's not your own. You have to start, else you have the fear of being trampled, left behind or being run over. Not to forget the weight of hopes and expectations that just keeps increasing.

During the course of these two months, I was trying to figure out who I am, what I am capable of, what my purpose is and what should I do. The choices we make are important. Our life reflects the choices we have made so far. So this period of self searching was difficult and exhausting when no answer came. But then someone told me ( Rahul Jain, Thank you! :D ), I need not waste my time looking for all the answers. It is okay not to know all of them. I can take one step at a time. I can always choose what I want to do, in this very moment that I have. I liked the idea, not because a friend said so and I was up for confirming to anything that is coming my way but because I found this idea very empowering. This is the moment where I can act, where I have control over things. This is my moment and life is nothing but a series of these moments - like pearls on a string come together to be a necklace, moments come together to be life.

I just hope I stick to this idea ( or maybe someday find a better one ) and make the best of the moments to come.

More than that, I really hope that someday I'll look back to this and will be able to laugh at myself. That I would have conquered the tall summits and these worries would seem short.

And I would have made a difference, a positive one :)

Unsettled in a new city

Wrote this as an entry for the fourth volume of the Helter Skelter magazine, for the given visual cue - the picture. Though it didn't get selected, it is special enough to find a place here :)

Leaving behind the place called home

Unsettled in a new city

Two years gone by

The room occupied

Though very much tried

Is still a makeshift

Could not uplift

To a place the heart could call

its own

(The walls bear witness to this effort, to all)

The creased sheets,

Folded between the layers

Are the monotonous tales of daily toil

The pillow fibres

Seeped down beneath them are

The tears of joy, of sorrow, sweat

Tears of broken dreams, lost hopes

Finding happiness out of the blue

Of promises kept and broken

Of devastation expectations bring to you

Seek under the covers

And you might find

Dreams in slumber

Bartered with nightmares in troubled sleep

From time to time

Leaving the creases more intense.

The room –

A workshop - of mending the broken, starting from scratch

A battlefield – of devising new plans

A carnival- of people who care and laughter

A mortuary- of all that lives no longer

The very air speaks of the denizen dreamer-

The window through which it flows- pretty-

Overlooking the world outside

A venue of inspiration

The stars also look after her by the night

After all, she is not alone,

Unsettled in the new city.

Waking up to the nostalgia

That a morning brings

Can’t be complacent, lax or still

Have to conquer the self, have to conquer the world

No looking back.

Postponing to a holiday-

The straightening of folds

Of stories to be told

Of being

Unsettled in a new city.

Of friendships lost and found

Communication, with self and others, forms a vital part of anyone's life. It is indeed a blessing, to be able to speak your heart out to a person without the fear of being judged, with the assurance that she/ he is there to be a part of your celebrations and your support in your woes. You call them friends. We start being friends with people even before we could define 'a friend' or 'friendship' using fancy words or multi-layered definitions, at times even before we could spell it. It comes so naturally to us and it seems nothing short of magical to me - how one day you find something, anything common with a stranger, a stranger who is in some manner connected to you and there! You have a friend!

Over time we meet so many people, some become our friends and remain with us while we lose some through our journey of life. The latter experience is never pleasant but it is only beneficial to accept that their part in our lives are over and it is better to forgive and forget.

I was blessed enough to have many friends throughout my life and I lost some too - to time, to distances, to frivolity.

School was great. I made friends really easily. No one really gave a thought to the complexities associated with this word. You spent time with people with whom you liked spending time with. As simple as that. You played with your friends, helped them with homework when they fell sick, danced with them, participated in school activities with them, giggled without reason in class with them, have been punished together and never hesitated to go to their house and you loved their family too. You fought with them too, but it never lasted more than a day. This innocence was beautiful.

I changed places. Changed schools and leaving a place and your friends behind was never easy. What's funny is that they were soon replaced with new friends and it seemed ok then. As I grew up, friends became more difficult to find. No, I am not talking about classmates who sweet-talked to you, for their motives and then talked ill about you behind your back and still claimed to be your friends. They were in abundance, everywhere. Sadly, I realised this fact the tough way. But I'm glad I learnt my lesson.

After class 10th, streams changed too. None of my friends opted for humanities. But they kept in touch. Period. And I found more friends for the rest of my time in school.

A bigger change was yet to come. College. I was supposed to stay away from home. Survival on your own was neither possible, nor necessary. I had never been forced before to share a space with so many strangers, some of them later became my friends. The change was huge and making friends was difficult than ever before. Not to forget that I was losing my school friends who thought that I had 'changed' after coming to Delhi. ( I had no other option but to change and adapt, you idiot-who-was-still-enjoying-the-luxuries-of-home! Only if you could have been a little patient!). I lost friends over petty fights. Nothing seemed to mend those broken friendships. Or maybe it was just for the good. The Universe had its way of taking away people from your lives and replacing them with better ones. It is a never ending scheme I guess. I really never regretted losing my school friends, I hardly talk to any of them. I don't feel the loss because college made me meet so many amazing people!  

I found a friend in my room mate and because of her I met so many other people, who became friends. I found friends in my residence block, other blocks - my seniors, my batch mates, my classmates, juniors.

I found friends who could assess how I was feeling just by the way I talked. I had friends with whom I went out for movies and eat-outs. There were friends in residence I could approach and ask for food at 1 am. There were friends who took care of me when I was sick. There were friends who kept their rooms so organised that I just went to their room to feel at home. There were friends who were ready to help me anyway possible. There were friends with whom the mess food became bearable. Who just smiled at me whenever they saw me in the corridors. There were friends who were like my family. There were friends with whom I could never run out of things to talk about. The ones I danced like crazy with. The ones I sang mushy songs with. There were friends who hugged me when I felt bad. Who fought with me first and became my friends later. There were friends I wish I knew a little longer. Friends who listened to me and supported me, saw me cry during fests ( and otherwise), made me laugh, inspired me to do more and picked me up when I failed. And then, there were friends, whom I loved a lot and could do anything possible for them.

(Also, there were people I just wanted to punch in the face. I tried turning them into friends but it was useless.)

I miss college not just for the beautiful lawns or the beautiful red brick building, I miss it more for the people I met there! Who made the college a beautiful memory, something I would always want to visit again.

But then recently, I was posed with a question, rather a choice, of picking certain people as my friends and leaving the others, just so that no one complaints of being ignored.

Could I have ever done that?

Never.

I learnt something from everyone I met. They are like a part of my memory, a part of me. I could choose the people I spend more time with, choose who matters to me more, has more of my attention and choose who is closer to me, but I can't let anyone go. I can't imagine college with just one set of people and never meeting, never getting to know others. In fact, surprisingly enough, I always found friends at the times when I needed them. I never experienced any clash as such, I never really had to choose between friends. Neither would I want to.

But I do realise, that people have limited time and they can't be everywhere. I might feel bad at times - the people I give my time might not be able to do the same for me. Letting go friends is really difficult, but sometimes its the only option we have left with and the best one too. "Nobody is infallible, but then nobody is indispensable either."
I'll trust the scheme of the Universe for now and hope that I'll have friends who will stay so that I don't have to let go, again.

Tutorial trials

Tutorials. 

I still get goosebumps when I think of some of the tutorials I attended during college. I dreaded them, especially political science tutorials. I had given up on economics tutorials by the time I reached second semester. No one seemed very happy with my questions and I consider it a mistake that stopped asking them altogether. English tutorials were more or less comfortable. I remember that some time during second year, we were supposed to give a presentation in Contemporary India tutes. My turn came, but I had to wait for a month for it. I even attended extra CI tutes, but my internal assessment at the end of semester still said that I had missed one. Tutorials have really mocked me throughout college and I chose to laugh along.

The discipline of political science was new to me. Not that I had no idea about it, but still. I could never feel confident about it and for that matter, I never felt confident about any subject in college except languages. It was just once when I answered a question posed by my professor in class during the first few days of the first semester and it was the end of it. My effort and ability switch went off but his expectation switch didn't and "I don't know" became my usual response. If you know me, you know how frustrating it was and if you don't, let me tell you - it was frustrating. And disheartening. Tutorials were worse. Whenever I didn't read the complete reading ( yes, I admit, my fault) the reading was discussed. But whenever I did, it wasn't discussed or the tutorial didn't happen! No coincidences, this always happened. Always.
In fact, I was confident enough to say this before tutes - " Aaj maine reading padhi hai, aaj tute nahi hoga." And it turned out to be true.

And this particular incident needs a special mention. This :

A night before political science tutorial sometime in second year. When you have a record like me you are bound to be nervous. I really wanted to finish the reading and was ready to bunk sleep too. But I was sleepy.
I looked around the room. A can of red bull. Hmm, maybe I could use some help. It didn't belong to me though. It was Anoothi's ( Hi Anoothiiiiii!! :D ). She would not drink it anyway, I thought. Dilemma isn't enough to describe this situation - it was a clear cut case of 'Dharm-sankat'. Unfortunately, I made the wrong choice. I took the can and promised that I'll replace it as soon as possible. I did that once in a blue moon with chocolates too, took and replaced them. I once accidentally broke her scale and quietly replaced it too and she never found out- until now off course. Or maybe she noticed and very lovingly ignored them. 
I emptied the contents of the can. It tasted like cough syrup. To my horror, it had the same effect as a cough syrup and I dozed off. Without completing the reading.
I woke up next day and knew what the day had for me in store - a bad tutorial. And so it happened. I came back to my room and slept some more to get over it.

It didn't end here.

Days passed and somehow I didn't get a chance to replace it. And then came Harmony. Scavenger Hunt. I participated, so did Anoothi. Different teams. 

A thing on the list read : A can of red bull.

Our room. We are trying to look for things and then she asked -
" I can't find the red bull can, have you seen it?"

Moments of awkward silence.

"I drank it."

More moments of awkward silence.
I didn't have the courage to look up to her and see her expressions. It was bad. 
Somehow I never got a chance to replace it, it was useless. But I tried to compensate for it in other ways and I believe that I was forgiven and the matter forgotten.

By the time second year ended, I had one decent political science tutorial - the last one of the year. I can still not boast of a good tutorial, never had one throughout 3 years, and my fear never went away but I learnt to laugh about it, so it was more or less okay.      

ALARMed! :D

5th August 2014
12:11 am

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3OnnDqH6Wj8


As I hear this song now, I am trying hard to stifle my laughter because one, everyone around me is asleep and two no one would consider me sane while I laugh at this song which is far from funny. To me, it brings back a memory...

7th or 8th March 2014
St. Stephen's College
Political Science class

Our professor informed us about the Eighth Sir John Crawford Memorial lecture which was going to happen on 10th March at the Australian embassy. At first, I was hesitant about attending it, thinking I might not make it to residence within curfew time after attending the lecture. Also, I'll admit honestly and shamelessly, a lecture about Australian economy did not interest me much. But then I looked beyond these two perspectives. I could just go there, WITH MY FRIENDS, have a good time on my way to embassy and back and have the opportunity to listen to the lecture too! Brilliant! 
I signed up for it.

10th March 2014

One of my friends suggested that I should bunk the memorial lecture and go watch Queen instead ( Hi, Nivedita!!! :D ). Sounded like a good deal, but I chose to stick to the earlier plan. The bunch of people going for the lecture were supposed to report at the main gate of college at 4 pm. 4 pm - Main gate- No bus- no other soul. After about 30 minutes, many phone calls to friends and numerous trips to Rudra gate and the photocopy shop ( to get melody, off course!) , the bus was finally there and we were ready to go.
At first, everyone chose to continue conversations among their own groups ( which was very different from how the trip ended). Apart from talking, I did my favourite thing to do on a bus journey - to look outside from the window. I don't think that this fact needs a mention that how Delhi is an amalgam. An amalgam of shabby corners and rich quarters. Of struggle for sustenance and ease of luxury. The view from the window just reinforced this fact.
We reached the embassy well before time and had to wait outside for a while. We were, if I may say, a badass bunch of people on their own. The students of other colleges were accompanied by their teachers. 
We went inside. The setup looked more than of a fancy reception party than of a lecture on Australia's economy. We took our seats and planned our attack on food as soon as the lecture was to get over. 
Before the lecture began, we were advised to switch off our phones. My phone's battery was almost dead and I switched it off, knowing that its battery will be exhausted by the time I'll leave and it will be useless.

( Phone : You think I'm useless? I'll avenge it! )

I don't remember who the lecturer was. He was hardly audible. Though I tried hard to concentrate, it didn't work. The speech was interrupted by a 'witty' peacock from time to time. It was amusing. 
Not as amusing as what was to happen.

Suddenly, my phone started crying out and telling the world "how good it was feeling."  ( Refer : the song mentioned in the beginning.) It was my dinner time alarm. ( Yes, I am pretty weird. I hate being late. I have multiple alarms ringing on my phone throughout the day.) How bad was it? Well, number one,the speaker was very 'soft spoken'. Number two, my alarm was loud because alarms are supposed to be loud! Number three, because I was so embarrassed and nervous, it took some time before I could actually take out my phone and switch off my evil alarm. My phone had its sweet revenge. I could hardly look up to the speaker now for all the unwanted attention that I attracted. My friends sitting near me had a hard time controlling their laughter and made up their minds to tease me about this incident till the end of time.
The lecture ended. I was in awe of people who could come up with meaningful queries when I had a hard time focusing on the lecture- but then, I had my reason! The witty peacock confirmed the ending, cooing exactly at the time when the speaker finished. We couldn't attack the food, rather stood in a queue patiently and politely and waited for our turn. The food was good. So good, that people were lost in its taste. So lost that they stood in the open while enjoying themselves while it started raining and people were running for shelter.
Soon it was time to leave. Our bunch came together again, we had a head count and we left the venue. Till the time we were waiting for our "Neelam" bus, we had a photo clicked. (As if I am ever going to forget that evening.) 
The journey back residence was different. We played Antakshari and it was SO much fun! Very different from how we had started. I liked the change. We reached safely and called it a day.


I don't remember the speaker. I don't remember what he talked about. Even after the alarm incident, I can still say that I had my share of good feelings that day! :D

Paid in full

I can't help but use the cliché that though it has just been 2 months since college ended, it seems like ages have passed! 

I can't help going back to all those memories, looking at old photographs and letting the current of nostalgia take me along to those familiar old places. Also, monsoon! Rains make me nostalgic and I was never very fond of this season.

So, this is the account of one of those days in college, the memory of which make me want to laugh and cry at the same time and they will definitely be a part of my autobiography which will be called - "A series of funny yet unfortunate events."
Successfully submitting the term bill on time, I believe, is an achievement. If you have the stamina and patience enough to stand in a long queue, you make it to the bank counter where you deposit your fee to a gentleman who won't share your relief and happiness, he has his own share of sorrows which never seem to go away. The students away from the counter are annoyed by the lack of efficiency of this whole system and the people working in the bank are annoyed by the never ending chatter and chuckles of the students. 

It was the last time I was standing in that queue to deposit my fee. It had to be memorable. It was.

The bank was supposed to open at 10 am. I, being the smart self that I am, decided to go to the bank at 9:45 am to avoid queue and get done with the work as soon as possible. I reached the bank only to be disappointed by the little queue that was already there."Never mind, I can obviously wait for some time." I thought.
10:30 am. The bank was still shut. More students gathered there. There was a long queue behind me. Interestingly, there were more people in front of me as well! Yes, they broke the queue and no, I didn't say anything. I was standing there, judging their insensitivity and rudeness and was hoping that they pay for this, soon. Not to forget all the conversations I heard and over heard while I stood there.
It was perhaps around 11 when the bank opened. The queue moved really slow. I really wished people around would do me favour and shut up. They didn't. The whole process was a real test of patience. 
It was around 12 when my turn came. if you have been in the queue, you know how that moment feels, right? It is a moment of sheer happiness - as if you've won an Olympic race or you're set free from bondage or an end to a period of struggle - that is how it feels.I reached the counter, took out the money and gave it to the gentleman on the counter. I was enjoying this little moment of success when the man at the counter said -

"56 hundred rupee notes? Yahaan to sirf 55 hain!"

I could imagine how the hue might have left my face then. I was puzzled, scared. I couldn't utter a word.

"Theek se count nahi kiye the kya?" He scolded me.

(God knows I counted them multiple times!)

I checked my bag and pockets for that hundred rupee note. But it was not to be found. My vision was now blurry.

All this struggle, for this moment?

I couldn't come to terms with the 100 rupee note that vanished in thin air and took a few moments before I could come to my senses. Then asked people around me if they had extra money on them. Someone from the queue gave me 100 rupees and God knows how thankful I felt to that guy, that unknown guy who helped me!

I gave the 100 rupees to the man at the counter. He counted the money, stamped my term bill. Tore the student's copy. Paused. 


PICKED THE 100 RUPEE NOTE WHICH ACCIDENTALLY SLIPPED FROM HIS HANDS, ON THE FLOOR. 

Smiled a not so friendly smile. And pushed the note and the student's copy of the term bill over the counter to me. Could have passed on a little apology too, but didn't, and I was not expecting it either.  I immediately passed the note to the guy who had helped me.

I came out red in face. My legs had given up after the ordeal which lasted for 2 hours, 15 minutes.

Last term bill submission. It had to be memorable. It was.  

Letting you go

( I would call it a side effect of reading "The Fault in our Stars". Just too many emotions! )


I am learning to let go
Trying, trying hard to do so
To put myself at ease
( Oh, whom am I fooling? )
To see if the saying stands true -
Let go of the ones you love,
If they're meant to be they'll return..

I can't let go
After all
It seems...

I'll try to forget
All the little things
That lit me up like nothing else did
The hug that lasted forever
Conveying more than words could
Apology for everything gone wrong
Or maybe I made it all up
It was never so...

The assurance of an honest listener
The keeper of the deepest secrets
The one who never failed to gift me a smile
I have to learn to let go...

Who would have never let me fall
Nor would let me lose myself
In the maze of cruel sentiments
I would always find my way back to sanity..
Who would carry my burden willingly, with ease
I have to learn to let go..

Who has probably laughed at my foolishness
A million times
Might have found me weird
In ways infinite
Still cared to come after me, make up
After every fight..
I have to learn to let go..

I have seen you go before
And I really don't mind
You never really came back
But,
When were you EVER mine?

It is an absurd arrangement of stars
It is sad that our paths did collide
Only to diverge
And become skewed lines.

I would look back in delight
At the happy little infinity
For the chatter never gave way 
To uncomfortable silence
Because you knew,
And knew it all..

I'll see you go again
A late goodbye
Do you feel the loss?
I was always two steps behind!

It will save so much of me
To end this right here
To make way,
To cut out the fear -
Of neglect, imperfection,
Of unrequited care!
Has become mandatory.

I have held on you for long
Or at least - to the image
Can't blame you for the wrong 
But its really time to break the cage
Of hopes, of illusions.

And yes,
I will
Wait no longer
I will let you go
And with it
a part of me,
Too.

After Uncertainty

Uncertainty went by after teaching me the fact that it is a catalyst in the process of evolution, of change.

Life is definitely changing.. while some things are falling in place slowly, others are falling apart. The lesson has been taught but not yet assimilated. The pangs of restlessness, of despair can still be felt, in varying degrees. Letting go was never easy, would never be probably.. though I would love to prove myself wrong. 
The craving for a balance in every aspect of life, the obsession of the mind with the memories one considers dear..precious, the lament of the loss of all those cherished happy moments, of not being able to recreate them, relive them : nothing makes one lose their mind like these do.

Its sad to watch the things dear to you, which were once essential for your very existence, decay. What makes this painful is that it doesn't happen quickly - it takes its own time and you have to be a mute, helpless witness to this disintegration. You wish it never existed in the first place. You wish to see it die quickly but you are deceived by your own emotions and this thought is enough to well up your eyes.
You wish time goes by fast and lands you to a safer, happier place.

And rarely you come across people you can open up to, who listen and understand without judging.
Life's changing - so are those effortless conversations with friends, which now seem forced, unnatural.

Between all this chaos,these hard lessons, you neglect what you have now. Faith and gratitude are the last things on your mind. The more you chase the things you don't have or the people you want to be with - the more they seem to go away. You don't cease to obsess with the empty spaces and neglect the blessings too. You fail to turn around and notice the people who are still there for you. Amidst this storm, you forget the bliss of stillness.
It seems a big mess ( even sounds like one!)

But then, as uncertainty leads to something as beautiful as evolution, maybe restlessness will lead to peace and decay will lead to a new creation?

I just hope that I'll have the strength to make a difference, a positive one.

To a new, and hopefully - a happier life ahead :)