7 things I learnt about people

1.      They are unpredictable –

I am not talking about their schedules. No, that is out of question - very mundane to analyze them based on their schedules. This is about the fact that you might predict things about people, but never can you be right all the time(If you can, that just means something is wrong with you or the person you are analyzing, and that also means I want to meet you and know you!). You never know when that one random crazy neuron will fire in their brain for them to do something completely out of character. So don’t really even bother to predict. And this is about you too. You might think you are predictable, but trust me friend, most of your life is just a random sequence of events dependent on chemistry, physics and biology, so just suck it up. Science is the boss, not you! :P

 
 

2.      They are not mind readers –

I know, very disappointing. It sucks. But think about all the thoughts in your head, really carefully…

Now think again, do you want them to be mind-readers? Do you think they will stick around if they can hear your thoughts, really? You yourself had some trouble accepting those thoughts probably. And for the good thoughts, well, they unfortunately won’t know. Probably that’s the whole point of the power of speech. Selectively speak. Or not. Either ways, you will never know what they truly like to hear from you. Maybe if they are as weird as you, they’ll appreciate the nonsense coming out from you more than wisdom. You never know. Don’t sweat it. And never expect them to understand. Not even if you are Siamese twins separated by a hi-tech operation or something. Just save yourself the expectation induced trouble.

 P.S. – don’t overcompensate of this mind-reading disability by expressing every thought. It might sound good only in the confines of your head sometimes. :P
 

3.     It is healthy to not take them seriously sometimes –

             Yes, I know I know, sounds pretty wrong… but how can you justify taking a mass of evolving unpredictable neurochemicals seriously? Like, just how? Agreed, respect boundaries, don’t be overtly crazy around them to drive them away (unless you do want to drive them away), etc. cover the basics. But don’t take them too seriously. That stupid whatsapp emoticon with a sad face? A LIE. They are LOLing on the other end. That bright stunning smile they shower everyone with? They probably want to showcase their teeth whitener, they didn’t think you lit up their life with your infinite charm. That long email filled with ‘how are yous’ and other sentimental wish wash? They were in a moment. So just feel the occasional drama, if that is your style, but don’t take it too seriously. Don’t be a cow for their thoughts - do not ruminate over the stuff they do or say or seem to say for long. It is probably going to be something you look back and be shocked about having thought about at all. Save yourself from those degrees of shock. How to do that? Increase their drama quotient by a thousand and give it back and confuse them till they stop. Or probably, do it some mature way that you might know better. :P

4.      They are funny –

Every one of them. If you have a power cut and need some easy entertainment, just observe. That super serious way in which they attend meetings where people get confused because of weird grammar in one sentence of one line of a 100 page document for 1 hour? Funny. That neurotic way in which they stalk your presence and keep calling and asking where you are as if on CIA missions? Hilarious. That fear in their voice when saying something absolutely normal and the contrasting lack of hesitance in saying something totally inappropriate? Rib tickling. The way they pronounce or write your name wrongly and simply laugh it off when you tell them. Funny (yeah, I know some won’t get this :P). The way when two people make utter fools of themselves when talking for the first time and not knowing what to say and rambling about nonsense and then apologizing and thinking ‘oh crap! Oh f***’. Funny. Trust me, it’s not even an exaggeration. The humanity is an oyster of craziness which continuously provides tons of funny situations. You just need to say ‘excuse me’ to your ego occasionally and enjoy the show. If you are up for it, sometimes they will even allow you to whistle.

P. S. – whistles might be slightly unfunny to them. Just know when to.

 

5.      They are weird, stupid, out of control, crazy, and even unethical
 

You just haven’t seen those parts of them yet, or maybe since they match your weirdness and stupidity you are just deluding yourself that they are normal so that it is okay for you to sleep with peace. When it comes to people, I haven’t seen much normalcy, weirdness is definitely a given. You can take it for granted. That perfectly trimmed sales person you see in the shop handing out life-saving pills? Probably has a weird fetish you will never know about (nor will you want to know about). Words like ‘ignorance is bliss’ have deep wisdom, they were probably thought of when interacting with the human species. You won’t find a single animal who is weird. They seem normal, no matter what the environment. Unless they are diseased. But humans - well, we are a different case altogether. The number of words for craziness might reach exhaustive limits, but the number of crazy behaviors will not. That is why, keep away from society. Be anti-social occasionally (which, by the way, is also considered weird), be isolated and with yourself. And think once about the things you have spoken and done in the past few days which involved people. You will be overwhelmed with the craziness of it all. (if you are not, your mind is doing a very good job of protecting you from yourself, so congrats! :P ;) ) Stay away a bit. It is crazy out there - the workplace, the classroom, the road, the party, etcetera. Even the moon spaceships and the like. Refer to point #4 if the craziness becomes too much to bear, and gulp it with a sip of your favorite drink or something (with all due respect to your liver).

 

6.      They won’t get you… at least not entirely
 

I know, you might protest, indignantly so. But think of it. How much do you get yourself? Can you place your hand on a holy text, or your credit card or your kindle and promise truly, that you have understood every single thing you did or said, like why you did or said that? Refer to point #1, science is the boss, not you! So don’t expect them to get you. I know, sad, depressing, blood-curdling (for some) but it is absolute truth. If they get you more than half the time, refer to point #1 again, they might stop understanding you at some point. Either ways, don’t try to constantly convince, justify, reason, explain yourself to those who don’t get you unless your holy text/ credit card/ kindle depend on it. The number of times you try to do that should be directly proportional to your wisdom. Unfortunately another truth is you might have judged your level of wisdom very wrongly, so you can’t be sure. :P Either ways, spare yourself the trouble. Let them not get you. It’s like the newton’s third law of motion in action for point number #1.

 

7.      In spite of point numbers 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 and 6, you will end up liking them/ loving them…

       ... because of point numbers 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 and 6

Yeah, it is science again. You might know some of the humanity you are exposed to, to be the most irritating, crazy, foolish, mad people. You might want to just cast them off, run to the hills and search for more normalcy. But weirdly, you will miss the craziness. Well at least some of it. It is like French fries. It might constrict your blood flow and increase your chances of getting a headache or a stroke or something, give you blood pressure, but you might feel like having one more of those, with the ketchup of course. You can tolerate it with a pinch of salt. You’ll masochistically convince yourself that they are worth the blood pressure.

So yeah, conclusion - people are like French fries. Well most.

You will go on diets with the salads and all once in a while. But the blandness will draw you back to the crazies. Or maybe the salads are the best ones. (now I see a logical flaw in my comparison, but whatever, this isn’t psychology today :P)

So yeah, go ahead, eat those damn French fries.

P.S. – metaphorical meaning, absolutely not intended. I do not promote cannibalism, I swear :P.

 

 

A pretty picture

 

 

I try to paint a pretty picture

The world knows not of the dark deeds beneath

They don’t feel the anger in every stroke

Or the anguish in those ruthlessly merged shades

They cannot feel every bit of emotion

In the colors I fake,

And they cannot feel the emptiness as I do

When I leave a blank patch or two

They just stare on, happy, delusional, in awe

They think it is a pretty picture

That it is a work of art

That the hand of god, has played its part

 

 

Very few see the imperfections beneath those hues

The true colors I have mixed to make up the ones I show

The ones I have darkened to tone down the truth

And the few I have brightened to hide the gloom

 

 

Very few care to probe, to ask, to understand, to care

About the million shades of my creative lair

But the ones I love the most

Are the ones who look at my hands

And ask me why I smudged them

And I just say

‘I was trying to paint a pretty picture you see’

And with a smile, they know, and I know

The paradox

And we keep our secret

As the rest of them happily admire

My ‘pretty’ picture

 

 

 

 

Sparkles and hope

Beneath an assortment of pretty hanging lamps, yellow lights glistening off their glassy colors - magenta, green, neon blue, surrounded by rangolis made of beads, lined by diyas and amidst the sound and sparkle all around, I feel blissfully engulfed in my favorite time of the year – Diwali. No festival touches my heart quite like it. I am not sure what exactly it is about this time though. Maybe because when I was a bit younger this was the longest vacation with a beautiful festival right in the middle of it. Or maybe because two of my favorite people have their birthdays during this time, or because my favorite zodiac sign falls this month. Or it is just that it marks the beginning of a season I cherish and the way this festival’s warmth makes the season’s undeniable chill bearable. It could possibly be just my sweet tooth speaking, with all the festival sweets being gulped without a care. Or maybe it’s because I learn to be a bit brave during this festival, you know, and light fire crackers that I am scared of. I don’t know what it is exactly. Long list, yes. Perhaps it is all of this. And maybe more.

I think there’s a feeling quite like no other when you light a firecracker. I am way too familiar with this feeling for every single year that I have celebrated Diwali (about around two decades now!). The moment when you try and pick a fire cracker, gauge and decide which one is worth the risk, it is interesting decision making right there. Choosing between brave and sparkly. Sometimes even the most sparkly is the bravest choice. Taking it, placing it in a safe spot, away from everyone, then staring at it with the sparkler in hand. I can’t quite tell you the feeling, looking at the open black and grey end of a firecracker, with a sparkler in hand, knowing full well if I don’t take the risk it’s going to extinguish soon, and I’ll have to get another one. But finally I manage to touch it, with my trembling unsure hands and then move away as fast as possible, hoping, looking. Looking for that faint small first tiny little sparkle which gives hope. Hope that something beautiful is going to happen next. That I’ll see lights like no other. Blue, green, red, yellow, white, silver, emerging out of that tiny little act of bravery. I think I like that feeling. I feel that it is so similar to so many things we do every day. I think the magic of the festival for me, lies in that anticipation of seeing the faint sparkle turn into something brilliant. It feels similar to many incidents which are filled with those poignant moments of irrepressible hope that it astounds me how much hope means to us.

If you are a programmer and you hit run- waiting for something to happen as you expect, or you are a doctor – and you see on your phone that the patient whom you prescribed something is calling up to give you an update, you are a student – and with trembling but hopeful hands you open your scorecard or you’re just a little kid looking at the faint sparkle of a Diwali firecracker, waiting, hoping, wishing with every atom of your being for it to turn into something beautiful, I think it is the same. Hope is the same. Beautiful, unsure, positive, giving us a reason to live, giving us something to work towards and making us take risks we wouldn’t otherwise, and taking them with all we got in that moment. Sometime though, the firecracker goes dud. It doesn’t burst. Our faces fall. But we try again, with another one of our sparklers. Sometimes, when ours get over, we borrow them from a friend. We give another chance to that hope. And when it does light us the second time around, we realize, we always have the power to reignite. To light up. With all we got. And maybe the best part of it is that everyone can see the light we started. J







 

Cheers 2!

This story below is a part two to my previous post titled 'Cheers!'. I wanted to know what happens ahead and I cannot be sure what happens next here unless I write a part two to it so here it is!

 

It has been a year but I think somehow have been able to revisit how the two characters in the part one think just like the first time. I hope I have done justice to them. So without further ado, here's Cheers part two!

 

 

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‘Watch out for the pillow’ you warn standing somewhere near the door, while I make way to your living room. I am literally trying to walk. I think about when I was a three year old, and how everyone in my family would stare in awe when I tried to walk.

I imagine if they were here now and wonder what they would say. ‘She’s balancing quite well for her age’ would be the offhand remark from one of my cousins for sure. To which I would retort ‘Try walking with 5 whiskies in your belly son’.

‘Whom are you talking to?’ says a voice behind me.

I turn around, and see that you are standing in front of our closed door, staring, half-amused, half-scared. But mostly looking almost as crazily drunk as me. Or is it my imagination that you are drunk? I can’t tell. And correction, it’s your door. I should at this moment be dropped off to my apartment, wherever it is. I do not know the time. But something tells me I should not be here. So I tell you that.

‘I should be home. Let’s go’

You sigh.

‘I cannot drive you. We’ll both die’ you say with a chuckle. Yes, that drunk chuckle. I am right, you, my best friend who has driven me to depths of sin I didn’t plan to explore, is inebriated.

‘But why?’ I say imagining our graves. Two RIPs written together on cold grey stones hit by the occasional chilly breeze on a night like this. I think I am about to cry. It is moving. Two RIPs written so close together. And that too with my birthdate on both of them.

‘I am drunk silly that is why. I’ll tell you what, the couch is all yours. And so is the remote. I am off to bed. See you in the morning. And the bathroom’s here’ you show with a wave of your hand everything you own, one by one. I memorize it like kids memorize ‘A for Apple’ ‘B for Banana’. I can hardly remember why you are telling me all this. I gape at you looking confused. I know I look confused because I am watching my crazy face in the mirrored cupboards around.

You take cue and hold my shoulders lightly, guiding me to the couch, where I instantly slump. You act over-smart and put your patched blanket on me.

‘It is hot, I don’t need it’ I snap back.

‘I’ll turn on the AC’ you say. I watch you moving around your room. It is funny. You act like a parent.

‘Thank you daddy’ I kid you. You shrug it off and chuckle again. I have been meaning to tell you since forever how much I love that chuckle. But I am in better control now. I am telling myself mentally ‘don’t say a word, don’t say a word’

You open a tiny glass shelf somewhere in your dainty little dark room. I just notice it is dark, only the yellow night-lamps are on.

‘Here’s Hangover, kiddo, lets watch it.’ You let out another chuckle.

Don’t say a word. Don’t say a word.

‘You look weird, are you okay?’ you say as you look at me while settling onto the opposite far end of the couch. It is almost like you are scared of me.

‘Wait, are you gonna puke now?’ You ask and I stare back in horror, just thinking of the possibility. It is my worst fear. I have a hiccup and I try to detect some hint of nausea. I still have that horror face. You chuckle again.

Don’t say a word!

I relax a bit. I think my stomach is okay. I concentrate on the sound of the AC in your room. That is the only sound there. It is driving me nuts. I wish there was loud music. I am thinking too much. Way too much. I think I am a drunk thinker. I need music to say ‘shut up’ to my thoughts.

The movie starts. I love Alan. He is fat, looks mature but acts like a five year old, gets everyone into trouble and can cry in the presence of four grown men his age. I love him. I am just watching him. I sleep through some of the movie I think. You are surprisingly awake, watching with a hundred percent attention, almost like a critic, huddled in the opposite small little corner of your own couch. You love movies. I stretch a bit to fill up the rest of the wasted couch space.

‘They found him, they found him’ I hear someone shouting.

‘Who, me?’ I wake up in absolute panic to see you speaking to the TV as it plays one of the final scenes of the movie. And then, it just comes back to me, every little detail of the crazy evening. The sneaky liquor shopping, the crying, the consoling, the laughing, the drinking, the hugging, the movie watching idea, the entering your room, the entering your room…

Where am I? Why is there a pillow under my head?

I see you almost jumping from your little-corner-of-the-couch-seat like a kid.

‘Good morning!’ you shout out loud.

‘Damn what time is, it?’ I ask.

‘You just slept for an hour, sorry I woke you up. I think I’ll get to bed, and you sleep here okay?’

‘No, sit. I missed the movie. Start it again’ I am weirdly adamant. Some conscious part of me tries to remind me I am ordering someone in their house to not sleep in their bed but sit with me on the couch and watch a movie all over again. But I think my newfound courage wins over.

‘We’ll see part two since you already saw part one okay?’ I suggest looking at your crestfallen self. I think that is the most logical thinking I have done the entire night. Part two because part one is done. I want to see you chuckle again. I love that.

Don’t say a word.

‘I lowwwwwe how you chukkkle’ I say followed my own giggling.

You ignore the comment and simply head over to your stupid tiny CD shelf. It has more of you than me. That qualifies it to be called stupid. I mourn in silence all the while you are searching for the CD. You have misplaced it, you mutter this in between opening all the tiny stupid shelves you own. It is like you are raiding your own house. Your muttering ceases after a while. I think you have found the CD. The AC is getting louder now that you have stopped speaking to yourself.

‘You know, I am wondering, how you speak a lot when you’re not drunk. But somehow, this is the quietest I have seen you since a while. What are you thinking dude?’

I hate it when you call me dude. But I play along every time.

‘Sit with me. And don’t call me dude’ I say. It is a command more than a request. I love this newfound courage. It makes me feel powerful. I mean, one could live with it.

‘Okay dude’ you say as you sit with me. I smack you with the handy pillow which now has my head-print on it.

You just stick out your tongue and say ‘Duuuuude’

I smack you again. I think I qualify as crazy now. My conscious self tries to remind me that I am not the pillow-fight kind of person. But I don’t know, I still smack you again, a little. It looks like the logical thing to do.

‘Okay’ you say and raise your hands like I am arresting you. I put back the pillow behind us. It is big enough to accommodate your back too. Wow, we are sharing furniture and bedding. That’s a new thing.

You start the movie. Drum-roll. I love the opening credits every-time I start a movie. It is like packing for a holiday.

I watch with more concentration this time. I do not want to miss your chuckles.

'I am a nurse, I'm just not registered.' my favorite character says.

*Chuckle*

I think butterflies explode inside of me. I am literally in love with that sound. I pull your cheek like a little kid. You chuckle more.

‘Whaaaat? It’s funny’ you shrug apologetically as you speak.

I am in full concentration now. You doze off on my shoulder though, in five minutes. I wonder if I should switch off the TV and wake you up, push you to your room or something. But something stops me. I like how you look, dozing away carelessly like that. I can’t stay awake waiting for you to wake up. I am too far gone for that. But I try hard to keep my eyes open. I am almost frozen there with you. It is the perfect frame. Better than the any I have seen on the TV. It is ours, after-all.

 

 

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I hope you chuckled a little while reading and that you enjoyed the 'spirit' here. ;)
Let me know what you think in the comment section below :)

P.S. : Link to part one of this story

P.P.S : If you want to be updated via email when I post something new, you can follow my blog using this.

 

Disclaimer : This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. :P  (Except that, as some of you might know the dialogue ‘I am a nurse, I'm just not registered.’ is from the movie Hangover which belongs to its respective creators.)

 

 

Doubt

Below is a slight poem-ish (yes, I made that up :P ) thing I wrote a few months back. Let me know what you think :)

What is it that I see in your eyes today?

Is it shielded hate? or is it subdued anger?

... Is it loathe, or plain old disgust?

Is that snide glance accidental or are you saying what I can see?

Through those sugar laced conversations, I think I failed to see you

It’s like one of those beautiful graves you see

Pretty on those sunny days yet hiding a million secrets , lost in those forgotten minds and souls

I wish you would grant me my wish

To know you and understand you and not that alter ego of yours

The one which believes lying is enough for me

The one which thinks etiquette comes before the truth

The one which acts like everything is fine when beneath a million things are breaking down

For I don’t mind to know that I am a forgotten soul

And the pain of knowing the truth

For true pain is not knowing the truth ever

Having to doubt the way you speak

Having to care and not being sure you care back

And though I love this pretense you carry

The fabulously enacted role of having an inkling of love

And I love it more than the air I breathe

But that precious-as-air love doesn’t matter at all

When in a million pieces it shatters to show me

The snide glances and the doubts and the reality

A reality I hate, but rely on more than you

So be yourself

If that’s the only thing you could do

Simply, just be.

 


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I know, I know way too much rebellion and anger :P. I think I might have a thing for exaggerated emotional expression though :P

Thanks for reading!


P.S. : If you like it, get updates for my blog by subscribing, right there at the bottom of this page ! :)

 

Paper and Planes

Below is a story (at the risk of sounding slightly over my head) that I am a personal fan of. J SO despite my own initial intuition after months of consideration, I have finally put it up. Let me know what you think! J

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction.

 

I am furiously typing something sitting at my desk. Having that alt tab set to open my mail window if need be. You are just a few feet away from me, lost in your work, and definitely in oblivion to what I am doing. I pen down a few words. I don’t know if they will ever see the light of the day. I start with the very basics.

I love you.

I look at you again, furtively, and think I can do better than I love you. Like offer some justification. I know there is no justification for this. It’s an inexorable feeling. But I try to think from your point of view.

I think you are pretty. Pretty is a dainty girly word I know. But I have a distinct feeling you are not very typically manly.

This sounds like a letter going to the dustbin if I ever print it. But I think of the thing I read in the morning, about the apocalypse being a symbol of not procrastinating things, that today might just be the last day to confess anything and everything and I decide I will be printing this. And personally handing out to you. To hell with the anonymous letter kept on desk plan. I don’t want you to assume anyone except me wrote this pathetic excuse for a love letter. It is a pathetic excuse. Excuse reminds me, I need to elaborate on my justification for my love.

I mean, maybe you are manly, you have a strong manhood. I meant this in a very non dirty way. My point is, if you ever look into the mirror and hear yourself speak, and review your own code, you will know why I love you. I mean, isn’t all of it just a perfect combination. And I love perfect, I am a strong proponent of perfection. This is one of the reasons I love you.

Wow, that suffices it for the justification part. I mean, it does sound like an inebriated musing of a high school cheer leader on the first reading, but I will edit it and pick out the important points later. Like ‘pretty’. What else do I say? Oh yes, about myself. How could I forget an introduction? Not that you don’t know me. But I guess that laconic interactions on frameworks interspersed with talks about the new keyboards and monitors and phones don’t really count for much of an indirect introduction. If one were to derive any knowledge of me from that chit chat, it would be a single line – ‘I am a geek, openly.’ I think we deserve better introductions, I guess I am thinking we since my pushy, upright self- propagating mental angel counterpart is also thinking with me.

I know your knowledge about me doesn’t go beyond this office. And ideally, it’s perfect. But since this feels like some kind of a confession letter, you know, cause I started with the I love you thingy, I guess I owe you one. Don’t bother about your introduction. I would love to have one, but I have the facts with me:

Zodiac sign – Pisces

Age- one year and 3 months and 3 days younger than me (that’s kind of a turn on, and in pretty much under the limit before someone starts calling you Mrs. Robinson)

Girlfriend – none. But in pursuit of one. Maybe not that actively.

Hobbies – computer games, making and playing them

… you get the gist now, just quoting Facebook. What I do know about you other than this is your impeccable adherence to schedule for everything. Your personal schedule, that is, 12 pm office, 1, lunch, 2 back again, and 9, leaving. I know you like Lemon tea a lot. You love to talk in a different accent with our boss, but the difference is so slight in words like ‘yeah’, I think he barely notices it. I have been meaning to tell you since a while about this, to not make that extra effort. Oh wait, I think I need to introduce myself too. I can ramble on for pages and pages, but I’ll try to make it short.

Female, slightly older, thinks she is pretty, loves reading, and loves writing (didn’t you guess this by now?), can speak Italian and broken Spanish, hates Lemon tea, but doesn’t mind people who love lemon tea.

I don’t think anyone can mortify themselves in their introductions if they are careful. But I manage to. ‘CHUCK IT AND CARPE DEIM’ I read this on my desk wall. This relives me of the prospect of mortification. I think this is long enough for a letter and the only thing which remains is to sign it off. Print first and sign it off. I hit two copies, since if a document is important, the least you do is take two copies. And this is no other document. This is my heart, digitally typed and now will be physically signed. Heart, pituitary gland, that particular center of the brain, whatever you call it, it’s anything but a normal document, that’s my point.

I look at the physical copy now. This could make or break everything. Hence I sign it. No confident female gives second thoughts to signing love letters. So its justified I think. I don’t know what madness in their heads makes them actually deliver it to the right guy though. I sit at my desk, reading my signed thing for ten minutes, rereading, reconsidering. A slow voice in my head says in a very wise tone ‘Was it worth the bark of the tree which made this paper, to be covered with words which would never really be read by the right person?’ I think maybe it was worth it, for the fun of it at least. Also, the letter could be entered into worst love letter competitions. And win prizes.

It’s one in the afternoon already and I watch you with letter in hand, lost in oblivion. Typing away feverishly. I wish so desperately you could read my mind. Like at least one word. I look back at the paper in my hand and reread it one more time, surprised by my ruthless audacity. It’s pitiable. I wonder if I remember origami. I start making an aero plane out of it. I am about to fly it now. I think it will be an embellishment to my desk.

“Is that a paper plane now? “

I turn around to see you interrupting my reverie.

“Yes”

 I wish you I could make you read it.

You briskly take it from my hand and start inspecting it.

I wish I could snatch it back!

I will myself to retrieve it from you. But I don’t know what kind of seizure holds back my hand, what makes me mum. There is a loud logical voice in my head saying –

‘This is suicide by mortification’.

I feel I should stop you from reading it. But I let you read, I don’t know what is stopping me from at least speaking up.

You look at me. I think I am having a cardiac arrest. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I finally snatch back the letter. I could say something to save whatever last shreds of dignity I have but I can’t find words. I just stare at you and you stare back. And then the unthinkable happens. You lean in.

I can feel your breath. We are too close. Alarm bells have started creating a cacophony in my head. But I don’t care. I pretend not to hear. This moment is too precious. Your lips meet mine briefly. I smile and I feel you smile. You get back to standing and walk away with a slight swagger. Mean a while I try my best to stop myself from swooning and use that extra blood from my rabbit like heartbeat to turn around. I see a ping. It’s from you -

I feel the same.

You are typing something

But I am bad at letters

You are again typing something

So I showed it to you this way

I reply – ‘I like this way too. The letters could wait for a while’

You reply -

No, I love letters :D

Me: Okay.

You: From tomorrow?

Me: What?

You: A letter every day?

Me: That’s a lot of paper

Me: Maybe we can make planes out of them

I turn around and see you and say ‘I love paper planes’

‘And they lead to happy endings you know’

And I know they do. 

 

Disclaimer part 2: This is a work of fiction, I promise :P.

Thanks you for reading!

Let me know what you think, links to comment and follow my blog are below. J

 

Who are you?

Do you love to work till wee hours of the morning, toiling away and providing for your family? Are you sincere, down to earth, hardworking, perseverant, and does being reserved come across as one of your traits?

Or maybe you are one of those people who loves meeting people, knowing them, going into the insides of their psyche and discovering worlds and perspectives hidden from everyone else. You might love the ocean of knowledge so much that every field interests you in an uncanny way. The pearls of wisdom you collect from your thousand acquaintances might just make you confident enough to be detached in your seemingly airy head (which by the way thinks that being quirky is amazing and confidently struts it) while deep inside you have a soft spot and believe in that ‘one true love’.

Some people are however much more dreamy. Not lost in their dream world, but so engrossed in their imaginations that they bring them to life with their brilliant inimitable artistic side. It is natural for those to feel the pain of others, for the one who can be lost in a world of their own creation can somehow truly understand the world’s around. Are you one of those?

Or maybe you are simply the ram-head types you know. Those tactless, straight-faced childish folks who somehow lack the diplomacy and yet their honesty wins you at some level. Their personalities simply define the word ‘proactive’ and ‘go-getter’. In all their naivety and childishness there’s still this fresh zeal which translates into instant activity. It is like they are born on the start line of a race, waiting for the whistle to blow and hear ‘on your marks, get set, go!’

Some are however lazy. Like the cattle. Eating, lazing around, and enjoying the soft comfort of the beautiful green grass, lolling in nature, loving the scent of the spring around. They look like statues who are made to just enjoy the world. But beneath that boring stagnant exterior, they are the most loyal, hardworking, trustworthy, ambitious and rich folks you will ever meet. Adept with the arts, great with money, in touch with every sense of theirs, they are like antique paintings with the royal touch of everything.

If not, maybe you might be confused. Like all the time. Thoughts might flit in your head like busy city highways, with multiple trains running around, in that brilliant mind of yours which can make sense of a lot of data and just needs to somehow decide between two options. Talking about city highways and lights, you might love the dance, music and life around. Acting, communicating, travelling might be just your vent. A mixture of a million interests, a dance of intelligence, a child of twin-thoughts, who believes in one true love. That just might be you.

Or maybe you are the one who believes in living in a shell, at least emotionally. Maybe your emotions are like the soft sensitive skin of a crustacean, a single poke or blow can make it bleed. Intimacy comes at the price of loyalty and respect and no one else on the planet could understand it better than you. So you are better off creating that safe haven for yourself in some nook or corner of the world. To the world you might be a magician who somehow knows everything the world is feeling, but who will not let them in unless they touch that magical soft sweet soul of yours.

Is sensitivity not your thing? Maybe being the center of attention and loving it, and being unapologetically honest and expecting loyalty in return is more your thing. Maybe you know your place in the world, and it has to be at the front, never ever at the back. Sitting around moaning and whining and shabby and poor is the last thing you will ever do. Being glamorous and gutsy and making the world move in a direction you know is best is more your style. Money is not just a word, it is a necessity and a luxury which you truly deserve, or at least you think you do.

Or maybe you are more of the calm, easy going types. Being meticulously perfect in everything is your mantra. Being super analytical and a mine of facts and figures makes you stand out. It’s not easy to become friends with you, maybe since good things don’t come easy.

You could also be one of those fair types you know. Those who will judge each and everything on a meter which is defined by morals and not biases. You might love the soft sweet things in life and talk your way out of anything and to anyone with your diplomacy and manners, but sometimes the crap which goes around you troubles you more than anyone else.

If not any of these, you might just be an extremely keen and intense person. You might have already been wondering where is this going and whether this is the part where all your juicy secrets which you so cleverly and dearly hold close are going to be revealed here. You are a powerhouse of emotion and passion and ambition in disguise. It is hard to lie to you, or wait, should I say impossible to deceive you. You do not need those counselling sessions at all or those boosts of confidence, but people who have wronged you even once need those, since they still cannot recover from the rebound blows. The most vicious and yet the most capable to get anything they want. You might be just one of those. Now that would be lucky I would say.

Talking about lucky, there are some who have the luck as well as the sense to use it. Maybe you are one of those. Those strong determined futuristic happy go lucky folks who will get what they want by working the usual hard working way. It is hard to not feel happy with you around, what with all the humor and optimism. You carry around a happy charm and are unabashedly honest about everything, at one point it is difficult to doubt you. ‘Fun and ambition, here I come!’ seems to be your constant motto. A keeper of friends and a light hearted brilliant person, that’s what you are.

 

For those of you still wondering, described above are the twelve zodiac signs. While I am not a professional expert on the same, a bunch of zodiac cards about many years ago and google and Linda Goodman and people got me curious about this. I am not a believer or an unbeliever, but being intrigued often by the sheer variety of psyches and personalities and people, and being the innately curious about people person that I am, zodiac is like that map to a destination you just want to reach, knowing that maybe that destination does not even exist. It is like those Harry Potter books (forgive the childish reference :P), you know Dumbledore was never there, but you just want to meet him regardless, and know every thought that might have flitted through that brilliant head of his. I hope you related to at least one or more of the above, and maybe just maybe that maps to your zodiac sign. By the way, the first one is Capricorn and it follows from their in the correct order of the zodiac right up to Sagittarius. And yes, I am supposedly a Taurean by sun sign and Aquarian by moon sign though. And while I try my best to never judge my people on this, I am quite a fan of the Scorpios. Given a chance, I would be reborn as one :P. Just saying.

Tick Tock

The clock doesn’t stop ticking. Its merciless hands march forward to the frequencies they are tuned to. Irrespective of what is going on with you, what emotions you are in. It ticks, as ever, slowly but surely. Some ticks are tedious, when you sit in that awkward silence with people who have known you forever but suddenly have become distant. When all you hear is nervous glasses rattling and cautious glances. You wish for the second to be shorter. Some ticks are amazingly slow. When the page loads to reveal your marks. Those ticks outside the Operation theatre. That clock is permanently slow. No moment seems fast enough, dull enough to forget.

On the other hand there are those superfast minutes. Where in an instant the world becomes harsh and too fast to keep up. Where it is ruthlessly competitive and fierce and demanding. Those ticks wait for no one. Some minutes are chased more than hours. Those irritatingly consistent clocks don’t care for your mental breakdown, for your misery, for your tears, grief, apprehension. They don’t care that you are worried, sad, need a vent. They are the least bothered to know the crap your life is becoming lately. They don’t look back for the fallen stars, for the broken hearts, for the shattered souls, all of whom ask desperately for some time to heal. All of whom require just time to forget and become perfect enough to run in sync with those merciless clock hands. No, those consistent clocks just run. Shamelessly, fearlessly, sincerely, professionally, not caring to look back, not caring at all. The shattered hearts and broken souls and episodes of grief and tears can wait for days when there’s ample time. For those days when it is okay to reflect, think, vent out emotions. For those days when time is the last factor to consider. When living in the moment and embracing what you feel is perfectly fine. Maybe they might be broken beyond repair by the time those days come. Scarred beyond imagination, or hurt beyond comprehension. But time will not wait. It will trample on you further and break you more if you wait to feel. For it is time, ruthless in its rules.

No, I don’t hold anything against it, although it acts like a rotten child. For it’s the most natural of things there is. Holds the world together with its singular power. Those clocks that run with ruthless precision no matter what the moment, what the emotion, what the situation you are in, inspire. For it’s a hope for mankind, when it recognizes, holds in reverence something which signifies such precision. It shows that no matter what you are in, your hearts will beat just as much. The world will change just the way it used to, the earth will rotate its usual turns. The universe will go on. And somehow so will you. If it’s going bad, it too shall pass, don’t overthink, feel for a bit and move on. If it is fantastic, you will not even notice the small portion of your life for which it lasts. Revel in it, and move on. The wheels of the world won’t stop for your emotions. For your specific life situations. They will not slow down, they will not be hasty. Which is why they are trustworthy. Reliable, secure. Try to cope up or give up, but be with it. Keep on going. And one day the world will refer to you as you learn to match up with time. Consistency matters.

So thank you time. For no matter how maddening, you are persistent.

 

 

 

 

Breaking Free

He was looking longingly at the hill far beyond where their pride resided. He was the youngest cub in in the family. And one of the last remaining. His brothers and sisters had grown up to start their own families in another nearby pond. Nearing adolescence, his instinct of freeing himself was no different that the rebellious opinionated thoughts of a human counterpart. He looked at the hill with more longing than at his prey. Hunting was another instinct, much more natural to him, competing with the one to flee, but somehow it never won. A week ago he could testify this -

It was a rainy week. The dew drops settling on the leaves merged with the rain drops falling on them. In an acrid African desert, a heavy rain is like a redemption from a curse. Later in the week, there was a clear sky for one whole night. The cub got up just before dawn and started wandering around. Taking in the freshness of the place. Listening to the first chirps of the day. He went to the nearby pond and after drinking water, saw his reflection. Like most animals, he couldn’t make out it was his own reflection ever. He felt like there was always some lion cub beneath the water surface, trying to imitate his actions. A very strange creature who could always stay under water. He had tried to stay under water before but soon he would feel breathless and start sputtering water. This was a strange creature who could do that, never roared and just imitated his every single action. He forgot these thoughts as soon as he remembered that he had come to drink water. Lapping up the cool water with his tongue, he spent some time at the pond. Till he heard a bristle in the grassland nearby. A very familiar bristle, and a shuffling of feet. He walked some steps towards the sound and could smell a deer from a distance now. He wasn’t particularly hungry this day but instinct drove him to find this elusive prey. He walked some more distance over the long grass, until he could see something brown amongst it. It had perked up ears. Which shortly adjusted itself to the source of the big steps it was hearing. The deer had wandered up to this pond by chance. It had never looked for a source of water outside its area before. It started running instantly as the fear of being killed coursed adrenaline through its veins. It had been spotted.

The cub ran behind it with the excitement of a predator. He could feel the thrill of the chase and the drops of blood on its tongue already. But this prey was the fastest he had chased. A full grown healthy deer sprinting at almost twice the cub’s pace. The cub could barely keep him at eyesight. But the excitement was too much to make him give up. He ran across many trees and a clearing came on the way. He had been there once only to face the rebuke of his pride. Cubs didn’t stray too far from their family. It was an understood norm. The protection of a pride was far more important than a fancy prey. He should have stopped at the clearing before. And he sure knew he should stop now before the lioness woke up. The deer was anyway out of reach. He could just see it sprinting further and further away. It was going in a valley adjoining the hills. It had a little stream there. Maybe it would stop for water again. And he could ambush the deer. It would be perfect. Going beyond the clearing would pay off. But he felt a strange instinct to leave the chase there. And yet, go beyond the clearing, to the hills. It was forbidden. It guaranteed nothing more than a risk of being abandoned by his pride. But the adventure of breaking away from the pride was getting the better of him. He slowly walked ahead, glancing back with each step. He could feel the longing to go back. Not risk getting lost in a fantasy adventure of his own making. But something deep within urged him to go ahead. He couldn’t stifle his curiosity and eagerness with doubts alone. It would have to be quenched with the pursuit ahead. He walked on the hill. It was a small hill with a slippery mud. He stumbled a couple of times on the mud but gripped it strongly with his paws whenever he started slipping. Going back was not an option now. He was closing in towards the top. Beyond was a mystery he wanted to unravel since the moment he had laid eyes on the hill. It finally paid off. He stood on the clearing on top of the hill. It was chilly and windy. He could feel his pulse as heightened as by a chase for prey. Looking around was a marvelous view from the top. Beyond the hill was another forest. With different sort of trees. Maybe there were different animals there too. He couldn’t tell. He laid down to relax himself after the tiring climb. The dark was slowly beginning to be pierced by the sunrays. They were orange. It was a brilliant sight from up there. He could see the forests, the one beyond, and his home both beginning to wake up, livening. It was a marvel. He started his descent to reach his pride before they woke up. The deer he had spotted earlier was drinking in the nearby stream as he had expected. He abandoned the thought of killing him this time. It was strange and unnatural he knew, but killing the deer which almost led him to the hill-top felt wrong to him. He observed the deer from a distance to remember all its features clearly. This would be one deer he wouldn’t ever kill, he decided. He would help it someday.

A week later, now, as he was nearing his fourth birthday, he contemplated leaving the pride for good. He might come back. But he knew he would leave for now. Even if they abandoned him, he didn’t care. The thrill of going beyond his known world was too much to contain any longer. Was too much to stop him from being more than an animal not free from its own machinations.