Giving up writing is like giving up breathing. And there are times when you don’t want to breathe at all. But you can’t just stop breathing if you want to.. and I can’t stop writing even if that one remote part of me might ever want to. Even if there is no one to read out there (I doubt that though =D)
It’s beautiful. That light in the heart. That tiny bubble of hope that is all yellow…That keeps you company in the loneliest of hours, keeps you going in the darkest of times. I feel that. I feel that tentative glow and I feel the smile coming on to my lips without forcing it for the sake of others. And the genuine laughter so afraid..what if the next moment I do something and this bubble of happiness bursts.. plunging me back into the venom that compels me to shun everyone who dares come closer. I don’t know. Bathed in this light my heart feels like a tiny fluttering sparrow.
But you know what..it’s just the tricks of time. Up and down and down and up.. I have been down for a while.. A little up won’t hurt…
See ya =)
You have no idea of the happiness in my heart, you have no idea how fragile this part of me is, how it explodes with a little amount of energy in it, how this body is a huge sink for energies. I absorb it all. Anger sadness happiness joy. And sharing all that laughter with my friends and licking that ice cream bar and all sorts of great memories clashing in my brain.. you have no idea of the light I hold within
And I am skipping. Flying with the beautiful winds, racing in the blue college bus. It’s just that true simple smile. It is just that beautiful true company, it is just people helping each other out, that’s what a conversation does to me, that is what having friends brings to me. As for now I can feel a bubble of light pulsating where my heart used to be. I sure lost it to waves ages ago, but the love I hold in that place right now… I need no pumping organ holding that symbolic essence anymore. Give me a true smile, a true gesture, a genuine conversation and true laughter, and I would heal all that ails you.
These small things just make me get up every morning and go out in the crowd. I don’t know if anyone out there considers me as a true deep friend, or whether I hold that special place in the heart or not.. they laugh at my jokes.
And I can live with spreading smiles..
I am always punished for every single bad word that comes out of my mouth, a single wrong thing I do. God has put fifty angels around me that keep noting everything I say or do and baam! I get punished.
And guess what happened this time
Okay. I have a friend who devours chocolate like anything. Then there is another who is extremely superstitious about it. She thinks that chocolate causes ear pain. And I made fun of that thing for four whole days
Fifth day, I got the most massive ear infection there was.
I have been crippled for two weeks. My ear kept ringing with pain and it kept me up at night, it kept me in a really foul mood and all crappy and grumpy. And then the antibiotics were so heavy that they literally brought me to my knees. One push and I would vomit my lunch out (now none of my friends know about that part, shh). College was hazy and I have really sensitive ears. So. Past two weeks God taught me a really good lesson. I have been banging doors, popping pills, cursing walls. Gah
Anyways ! Now that I am well and okay, I guess I better start writing, for that is the only significant thing about me. But as I was walking towards the doctor’s place and coming back down that road back to my building, it felt..strange.. I didn’t have my cell on me.. hell I didn’t even have my wallet (we med students get the check up free). Who would I call? Call and say hey look I am not okay.. Not mom.. she gets too worried. I guess I was just missing her and Dad. And as I poured the drops in my ears and gobbled up the meds, I closed my eyes and sent an apology out in the air. Let it float, let it sway, Maybe something good will come back my way.
But you know, at the end of the day as I pull the covers over me and look up and think about it all, this just shows He’s watching over me and loves me enough to teach me when I cross the lines. And He is ONE Tough Teacher
And it feels good to be loved =)
There’s that moment when you feel that thing creeping up at the back of your mind, at the surface of your heart and the tip of your tongue. That urge that beautiful flow of words you know you can write down. You have been staring at blank pages and empty screen for days. Nothing to write nothing to type yet the mind and heart are full with stories and emotions. But it just doesn’t flow. The time ain’t right. The feeling isn’t exact
You sit there, in your empty room, that lone wolf you always were. Talking only in jokes and laughter. Why? Because you don’t know how to talk. And the friends you once had..don’t feel right anymore. The only channel you had was through writing but that is blocked by some strange barrier. Is is too much happiness? Is it too much sadness? Is it that pain in the arm that has been killing you for three days and nearly made you break down in class? Is it because talking suddenly has become the hardest thing in the world..?
So you look at your computer, sighing because the old companion has got old and is getting chipped off in places. An guilty feeling in the heart that it might just be time to let it go. You shut it down, lock you room, go into some other room, try relaxing with a bunch of friends, with that odd feeling that is bugging you deep down.You hang out for a while but then the jokes run out, the energy runs out, it’s too late in the night already and then there’s college tomorrow. You walk back the corridors, up the stairs. Unlock your room and get into bed. Shutting your eyes or opening them does’t matter much, it’s too dark to make out the walls
It’s just, sometimes, everything in the world seems so, far away. Was it you who were walking slowly or were it others who sped off? You know, sometimes it just gets harder to breathe..
I am sitting on the stairs at my Uncle’s huge place. Feeling the light coming through the glass pane windows. I like it here. The damp smell, the empty house. Mom’s out. Sometimes I wish she didn’t have to do all the chores and I could do it for her but then.. we are two distant yet so close people. I don’t know her heart. She doesn’t know mine
After grandpa’s death last week, house is all silent and sad. Nobody told me about his death until Friday when I came from college back home and asked about him and Mom said..honey he’s dead. He had cancer, that I knew.
I remember when my grand dad died. My dadabu. And how that broke me. Through and through. He was my best pal. My mentor. One person who knew all the answers. He was old school, loved all his grandsons. Never much liked the girls. But I was the one girl in the whole family everyone said he loved. They said we were like friends. And I realized that very late..
So I am still sitting here. I won the interclass creative writing competition a week ago. And now I found out I came 2nd in the intercollege competition too. Kind of feels strange. I used to be the type that would spread happiness to the ends of the world once it came to me. I lost my cell. And then maybe nobody really needs to know.
It’s just, we all have thoughts and dreams and ideas. People and friends and foes. And sometimes it’s confusing. What to like what to love. What to hold on and What to hold tight. Turn your back on whom and let who go away. It’s a strange world and a very tricky journey..
For a while let’s enjoy the imperfection instead of craving for the perfect. Perfect family, perfect friends, perfect apartment, perfect results, perfect food, perfect country. Let’s enjoy an imperfect day. Sit in that small strip of sweet sun because that’s the only place you can sit with that sweet warmth on your face. On the concrete floor. Take a shower after waiting for hot water all day. And end up with just a bucket of lukewarm water. Let your hair dry in the blowing winds. Winds with just a tad amount of fine dust and cold. Wear your old pyjamas and worn out shirt that just won’t fit you anymore. Look at your cell, smiling, and knowing your friend won’t call nor text. Why go in and look for a better piece of dress, why wander out and look for a better place to sit, why go search for salt with the sour oranges in your hand.. Here have a piece and enjoy….This imperfect Sunday…
(Title: Frost’s Desert Places, I quote it so often ab to yaad ho jani chahiye =P)
Oh boy am I a great person
oh hell I am great
You got that straight
Nobody gets so hurt all day and when the night comes and her best friend irons her hair and she irritates the hell out of her. You smile, I smile, we all laugh. What more is there to worry about?
You know what. That moment when you look back at yourself and see all you have been doing and you feel absolutely ridiculous, I wanna look back now. Not after ten twenty thirty years, being a shrivelled old lady and sighing as I lay somewhere on some hospital bed with tubes coming out of me and wires going in. Why do I have to be that person who is just so closed from all sides. I know it is not so much in my power, I cannot break my barriers even myself. I cannot even approach them. I can’t. It starts to feel..vulnerable.. naked even.
SO what happened. I was broken like fifty times today. It was a bad day. Everyone I met spit poison. SO I got all senti.. and I tried talking to someone I thought might help me out but.. well.. when one stops caring it all falls apart. Why talk when there are no words to use ey? My heart is as pure as it will be. I love once. I love forever. Or I leave
SO I will open up. I will be better. I will be a better person. I will cut all that tends to pollute my mind and muddle my heart. I will TALK about things I AM. With MY friends. And I WILL BE HAPPY WHILE I CAN
It’s like two people talking across the oceans. I am sitting on one shore he’s on the other. We lie on the sands and talk, so far away, but don’t cross the waters. This is not because we can’t.. it’s just because we don’t want to. We watch the sun going down and silence etching like shards of crystalline ice as the sands turn cold..
It’s a sad thing. The feeling of lingering grief. That melancholy is in the air because ..you know.. maybe the last boat we so knowingly missed.. was the last one that might ever leave…
What’s an inspiration? Something that gets a hold of me. Beckons me to get carried away in a whirl of thoughts, emotions and ideas. Something that makes me sit, uncap a pen a fill away the pages in front of me. For me, it is to write. For you, it might be so much more. Cook, draw, paint, sing. Something that brings out the inner us. The better. The great. That’s what you really are. That’s the place of utter content. The deeper wishes. The deeper you.
Being warm in winters. That’s just as if you found a key into my brain. Or a path into my mind. Leading somewhere deeper and so.. peaceful. Sipping tea, that is not that sweet but enough to jingle with my palate. Tea, not burning hot, but warm enough to sooth me. Holding the mug in my cold hands and brushing my nose over the hot handle, it feels.. satisfactory. Happiness is a great state of energy, marvellous state of the mind and the heart. But sometimes you don’t need happiness or devotion to soothe your soul
Trust me, a simple cup of tea would do just fine
Title: Quote by C.S. Lewis
That’s how I live it now
Exceptions, mind you. All my life I have been.. a tad introvert. Not my fault nor do I complain, I was bred this way and I am so set in my own ways. It was very difficult to make friends in old times but slowly I got over it. I still cringe from large groups. A small tight group of friends. Meanwhile now I can talk to….anyone
But all my life I kept a lot of things to myself. Not my fault, me and my parents are two entirely different entities and mom never shared her pain with me and I never learned how to do it myself.. and my sister died.. my grandpa died.. everyone closer to my heart left before I understood a lot about myself and the world. I always had one or two people I called the exceptions.. No matter what rules I have in my life.. I will break it for them.. no matter how much I run away from the world I will not turn my back on them. I might ban the whole world to my heart but when a close friend will ask me what’s wrong.. I will talk.. They were exceptions to the sensitive personality I still posses, and saved myself from a lot of hurt.
Back in the old times, I had a lot of exceptions..
But then.. I stopped.. stopped giving people chances after they broke my heart once, twice, thrice. Stopped talking if they cut in once, twice, thrice.. so on and so forth. And now I sit here, amongst a wall of books, wrapped in a maroon shawl with cold hands and with… so many friends.. I am the local clown for God’s sake.. I can make people laugh with a bam ! There was time I would cry over a stupid thing and yesterday when a friend found out that I was quite unstable after a viva the other day…. she was taken aback… Haibar.. you.. can cry?
It’s nothing to be proud of but still..it was so ironic…
I don’t make exceptions anymore.. The more the days go by the more comical and sarcastic I become. Like the walls keep forming around me and I bloody don’t mind.. It’s like I am far far far away from all those people I once loved and you know what..it’s their fault.. you leave a friend alone in a crowd and expect her to be the same at the end of the day when she had to fight all the stuff herself when she knew she had a friend nearby? Being alone all by yourself is another thing and to be deliberately left out is completely different. It hurts more
But still..flashes of me remain. I will still leave everything if you call for help. Even if not.. passing in the hallway I will give you a smile as pure as the ray of light. But then..gone are the days I broke promises with myself.. If I am gone. I am dead. The dead may have ghosts about them but you can’t touch the heart in them anymore.. That went with the blood and flesh when the heart stopped beating… The heart you broke..
Once..twice..so many times..