Turning Back to That Time And Staring Meaningfully at It

I went to my college a few days back and what I found there this time, about 10 years later, is something I never noticed back in that time. 

It was hope, possibility, and a huge blank canvas set to be painted by us. 

When we enter into the college, everyone tells us how crucial this time is. How these are going to be the decisive three years for our lives. How we can mould or crash the beautiful urn we are being chiselled into. But there is one thing that no one at all tells us. It is about the mammoth possibility we can plunder, even if we fail here. There is hope, there is life that is beckoning us. No matter if you don’t grade high, it is not going to snatch away the options that this world has to offer. Even if you literature a wrong subject, it does not spell the end of your life. Every individual's life has a unique tapestry that is not similar to any other. Choose your own way. Play around with your wishes and follow your whims; they will definitely drive you to a place where you will make peace with yourself. And even if you don’t reach that point, it won't hurt you to accept your failure for at least you surfaced your way and trod it. Your way. You will be you, someone unique. Give a chance to yourself, you will never sink. You will definitely float, even if you don't swim.

We are constantly told about the future that lurks. That is ready to pounce on us with it crumbling pressure; and most of us try to live it before the sun sets on them. Amidst all this, what we miss is the real life. Our heart’s music, an inner voice muted by fearful warnings, threats, and competition. 

Explore yourself. Know where the swings of your heart's vacillation is point at, and move along with it in your own rhythm. That's the only symphony meant for you. You can anytime make your life what you want it to be. You won't need pretensions. Live your life, all the possibilities call upon you!

If you do not believe this, go and read the stories about people who became legends, find out what and how they became what they did.

In the Land Of My Eyes

Water started rising up the building
From ground floor
to first floor,
To the next,
And it reached the next.
Soon the whole building was drowned.
The level of water rises yet above,
And above,
Till the whole sky drowns in it.
And the sky starts raining.
Huge rain drops splash.
And when they fall down,
They fall hard on a cracking land
Ill with draught
Which quickly absorbed the drop..
And I realize.
It was all happening in my eyes.

Being a Woman & Making Most of It!

Being a woman fills your life with so, so many possibilities, that it is wrong if you ever hold yourself back on anything, conventional or unconventional to your gender. You were created as a woman. Yet you can be a man too (by the social description). You can be as much a man, as a man is. You can dress up in formals, earn in dollars, or be physically robust.

You can support your parents, be the decision maker, take complete charge of you and your life. But between these, just remember that you are a woman and there is still more to your identity. You can dress to kill, you have the luxury of wearing an array of colours, which men usually don’t have. Remember that style and fashion are dying to be on you.  Wearing make up and experimenting with your look, putting on shoes to sandals to stilettos is your birth right.

And there is nothing wrong in being a romantic. There is nothing wrong in dreaming, floating in reverie, talking about your girly sentiments, affections, excitements and passions. Burning away the concepts and ideas which have being ploughed into you as a girl. Wash away the ashes of social expectations and live independently on your wet dreams!

And yet this does not describe you completely. You have skills which you might love, but you will never be able to discover it, for some jerk once told you that it was too conventional to pursue it. And you believed that. Don’t stop working on an art which you like, just because someone tells you that its too conventional. Turn back and find out, what all have you left untouched, believing someone’s half baked ideas of reform and modernity.

I am a feminist. But that does not make me a man. I have tried my hands of every girly thing that has appealed to my aesthetic sense. And imbecile, thought-less people have hated me for my very obvious and evident girlishness. I cook, I stitch, I do embroidery, I dance, I play guitar, I am a green belter in Judo, and finicky about my beauty and style statement !

Just know, what you want from your life. And not let anyone else decide it for you. For only you know, how your heart beats. And there is no flaw in it. This is how god made it to beat. Follow its rhythm, rather than tuning it on some other music.

People who have heard words like independence, without reading it, forget about understanding it,  have also hated me. For they think that am not yet free of my gender. And there will be people who will hate you too, for your being “excessively” girlish. But if your stop there, and put a check on how you feel  towards shopping, fashion, make-up, laughing like crazy, being whimsical, sentimental,  and more so, of being yourself, just know, you are emancipated by no means. You are a slave to someone else’s ideas.

So, to all the girls who are a victim of someone else’s thoughts, I want to make a suggestion that just be yourself. Cook, eat, love children if you really love them, love nature if you really do, stitch, do embroidery, love simplicity, or keep adding spice to your look or just do whatever , if you actually love doing it!

A child is not a poem, a poem is not a child. there is no either/or

- Margaret Atwood

To Rage, or not to Rage, Is The Question!

Anger is bad. It is bad for health. Chuck the health! Anger is bad as a part of your personality. It also makes you unapproachable. And it is worse for people around you! I am angry when I am wronged. Angry might be a little too guiltless, too neutral word. Still, I am generally a very loving person. Everyone around me opts to confide in me,  and approach me for suggestions. But yes, I go mad in rage. I am a spitting fire when I am in rage. I ooze hatred and heat. Every inch of me feels the slithering flames of this fire. Every atom of me, throbs. My nerves, my blood vessels, throb. And yes, I come to feel all of these in my body, when I am angry. It is bad! I know it. Ask our doodle society, they will tell you that it is even worse, since as I am a girl. I am sure there are a lot of people who are  like me.

But why do people behave selfish, mean, deceitful if they hate my anger so much! I wouldn’t care what my no-kith or kin thought about me. I don’t give a straw to what rattles in her/his. But if it is coming from someone I care for, I shout out loud and shriekier. If you have read ‘Mill on the Floss’, or ‘Jane Eyre’, I swear you know me in and out. The way I was able to relate with Maggi and Jane , I have never related with any other character real or fictional. Just like Jane  calls out, “Unjust! Says my reason!!” I shriek, I cry. Just like Maggi, I fail to understand why people behave the way they do. Why can we not live our own lives, in our own little space. Because people love to nag? They love to take more interest in others’ lives than their own. And I swear if they did take interest in their own lives, their’s wouldn’t be so rotting and sulking. SO full of grudges and accusations spitted on others. I at least believe in myself and my own decisions. Wherever I stand today, I take full responsibility and credit of it. I have no one to hold responsible.

Though, I agree that I need to mend my temper. I need to mellow down to other’s nonsense and rather choose to dodge it. Embarrassingly, I have shouted on many, ever since I stepped into youth. My first victims were my college mates. I have never been able to reconcile with a few of them. And the lot that stayed with me, I absolutely love you people! Today when I look back, I realise that everyone is struggling to create her/his own impression. Most of the people consider themselves losers, and internally keep repeating that they are the success masters. Trying it hard, till they see this happening. Till they read it in other’s eyes, till they hear it from others.. I don’t hold a grudge against anyone, once the anger passes away. I realise, I know, it’s that neither I, nor no one else has a right to be angry. It’s a kind of sin. A sin. As you are failing to understand that the other person is weak. Failing to accept that we all err.

My next victim was my boss from my first office. He was a pro at handling me. When I would be angry, he would not let me speak. He would just stare into my eyes and tell me to calm down. He had those snake like, piercing eyes which enter into you. As my eyes burnt in rage, his piercing eyes  and his tact of not letting me speak!<&%(&*!! would put me in place. He is probably the only person after my dad, who has been able to put in place.

Being angry is not good. Neither for you, nor for people trying to survive around you. I have picked up a habit of writing, when I am angry. Instead of spitting rage on someone, it is better to rant unimaginably self-obsessed piece of writing, on your blog.

Thanks if you actually read it till the end. :) If you have any opinion about my crazy, self centered piece, do drop it in the comment box and then leave. 

Wild

My dreams bite me

Dreams scathe me

I was burnt by dense fumes of my mind

Who collected,

Who coagulated

And made my sight misty

Fumes of dreams,

Baked on the heat of desires

Fumes of dreams,

Clot reality from my life.

My Mind and my body detached

My mind in the vapours

My feet floored, away from mind

I run,

I run wild!
Run with all my might!
With the sky I rhyme
With trees I twine
I look for you
But you, only in poetry,
shadows of you I find...

De-Mask

Violence is not just punching someone in nose!
Violence is screaming on someone and rattle her soul
Violence is not just slapping someone in face
Violence is breaking someone’s courage.
Violence is moulding someone’s existence with your might.

De-mask your brain!

You don’t just breakdown someone in form
You breakdown people in spits of your rage.
You don’t just bind someone in cage.
You turn a blind eye and let someone bleed through her age.

Freedom is not a feeling suspended in universe
Spirit is not a word in verse.
It is that air in which
everyone and anyone
can rinse and bathe.

Power Play and Indian Weddings

We are taught right at the onset of our learning about wedding as a concept, that this alliance is a power play. One is above and the other is under. One is essentially the underdog, and the other one is bound to have the upper hand in this relationship. The burlesque gameplay ensues on the eve of the wedding, when the bride steps into the groom’s house! There are wedding games. ‘Games’ at first sounded fun to me, like the hide and seek, or the ring a ring a roses. I grew up to find out that the game wasn't meant to be as innocuous as it sounded. It was shrewd and a pure example of a pervert human brain. Like the one in which a ring is submerged in a bowl full of petals. Whosoever finds the ring sooner, gets to dominate the household. And if you lose, you are doomed for life. This constant drilling in idea, that the alliance is going to be a struggle, a tug of war, where either you win over him, or he wins over you.

They do it tirelessly over and over, in every wedding. For bad or for worse, this trend survives!

This is not the only stale bite that you get of the big wedding cake. Right after the ‘feras’, the father of the holy bride, hands over his daughter to the groom. And we call this ‘donation of daughter’. Can a daughter be really given like elms to the groom? While the bride is reduced to a substance, she retains her position as worse than that begging, seeking groom, looking up to his wife as a booty.

If you have heard the concept of ‘the big fat Indian wedding’, you should watch it personally. You will get a glimpse of our glorious hypocrisy. The couple might hail from a middle class, but the parents of the girl will throw a big, fat lavish wedding, that sucks every little penny that the parents of that girl might have saved so far. We put up a show to live the glorious past! we put everything on stake for it! We might not have it, but we shall fake it, till we lose it all. While most honorable of men have started taking initiative of sharing the cost, there is no change in the mass unconsciousness.

Then there is a big list of good omens, and bad omens attached to our wedding ceremonies, which might cause you a jaw drop, if you are are an outsider. We look for symbolism in nearly everything. If the two wooden logs hit each other, there will be a lot of clashes in your marital life. If you kick that kalash (bowl) of rice on the doorstep before entering the house, it will bring prosperity in the groom’s household. I would rather respect a thing that I eat, than kicking it out for prosperity. And then the best of it, which I personally love the most J  . A bride, while bidding adieu to her parental home, throws rice backwards in the air, to return all the favours her parents extended to her. A paying back of all the food she had in their home. It is probably the best way to pay back the love you receive. 

This, and a lot of other reasons push me to elope, than getting married in a traditional way. I somehow wish to dodge these traditions of a jerkwater town and escape them all. No matter how many books you read, what qualifications you attain, if you can't see the insensibility in trends like these, you are as bad as a poor uneducated grown up, of unfortunate circumstances. I have been pretty bad with the game ‘when in Rome, do as Romans do’, through and through. And I mock the imbecility in face.