Sparkling Waters

It was as simple as that.

To read the texts that flowed in, one after the other, like a leaky faucet trying to fill a broken bucket and realize that the bucket is just that. Broken. There is no glue, no tape in the world to fix the bucket to make it go back in time and be what it used to be.

Of course, here, you have to realize I’m talking metaphors. If you haven’t already.  I really wouldn’t be writing about a real broken bucket, would I? Not that interesting.

In those few moments that it took to send about fifty messages, the past slipped out of my fingers that I have been clutching so tightly and the best part was, I realized that all I needed to do to get rid of the animosity and hatred - basically all the negativity that was getting me down into the depths of darkness - was to just open my palm, just open my heart and let it all recede like the ebbing tide on a beautiful summer’s day.

With clear waters in sight, the world seemed a little more cheery, the horizon seemed a little brighter, the very people who had brought out the worst in me seemed a little nicer. And with a jolt I realized, it is all in the head…. it is all about who and what I choose to give control to. Control of my life, that is.

Demons are always going to be around, both ones that I can battle and ones that I need someone to help me battle. But for now, I will still munch on cookies, download Grey’s Anatomy, file 130% productivity at work each day, go for long walks, read more Greg Iles, laugh a lot at the most pointless of things and learn to make the perfect cup of hot chocolate. 

***

I wrote this for myself a while ago. And guess what, I have almost perfected the hot chocolate :)

***
P.S: Lioness, Wings of Harmony and Blasphemous Atheste asked me why I disabled comments. I have been doing that for the past few posts because 1) I felt really bad about not replying to previous comments for a really long time - it was my way of atoning for it? By giving up precious comments and 2) I wanted to write for myself, just myself... because that's where I started from.

Fragility

In the time it took for the sparkling rivulet to make its way down from the rim to the stem of the bubbling champagne glass, fluid leaked, brakes disengaged, his car went over the edge and the sparkle went out of her life.

Silence = Solitude?

Think about it…
Being cut off from the world and its noise.

Being cut off from human contact.
Being cut off from ego, anger, denial.

Being cut off from the annoying neighbour with the loud TV at three in the morning.
Being cut off from the warmth of hot masala chai made for you.
Being cut off from the constant phone calls that you are loathe to attend.
Being cut off from explanations, excuses.
Being cut off from heart-break and heartburn.
Being cut off from soul mates and fairweather friends.
Being cut off from diseased body and soul.
Being cut off from chocolate.
Being cut off books and food.
Being cut off from family.

Being cut off from a billion, trillion, gajillion other things that, pieced together, comprise of normal human life.

Could you live like that?
In complete silence?

Doing what you want to, when you want to, how you want to?

Being Lord and Master of your own little Universe with no one, NO ONE to question your motives, confuse you, hurt you, piss you off?
With no one to hug, cuddle, whisper, hold hands and look up to?
No one to make you doubt yourself, lower your self-worth, destroy your confidence?
With no one to fall back on with blind faith, give you sound advice, reinstate your faith in yourself?

No one. But the deep, dark silence weighing in on you as you go about daily life, brushing your teeth, lounging in your night clothes, working when you feel like until you push the laptop away and curl up with Jane Eyre.

Like living in a black hole, suspended somewhere in the time-space continuum until the Maker calls you back. (I realize that the last phrase kinda causes the volatile worlds of religion and science to collide(?), but eh.) 

Would you do it? Out of choice?

What scares me is that it sounds almost… appealing. Almost.

P.S: I really don’t know what I’m trying to say here. Somethings are better off not analyzed?
P.P.S: Inspired by Gravity, the movie.

Jusht.

We all have such collosal egos that need to be stroked and coddled every once in a while.

From gazillion likes on a strategically clicked and masterfully edited Facebook profile picture to carefully crafted tweets that make us and our lives look and sound so much cooler than it actually is to updates and chitchat about how happening we and our lives are - we are so bothered about putting out a good image of ourselves that the lines between what we really are and what we choose to project become blurred.

Making memories have taken backseat to snapping at anyone who questions our cool factor. Saying inappropriate things will get you retweets, cussing out the opposition will let people know you are not to be messed with. Fight with your friends to upload the pictures of the trip to the beach you spent taking pictures to upload, instead of digging your feet in the sand and giving yourself up to the waves.

I have been guilty too, I am not excluding myself out of anything. Varying degrees.
But once in a while, I look at my pictures I took from ten years ago, think back to the person I was then, the things that used to run in my head then and the kind of genuineness that colored every one of my actions. Simple, happy-go-lucky, restless to learn and experiment and with an undying love for books - I was what I want me to be now.

And I wonder where this current version, who judges and classifies people based on their language skills and the amount of books they read, came from.

My compliments are still genuine, my projection of myself is not so much.
But.... what if I let someone in and give them the power to break me with their critical gaze? With their toxic comments?
What if they judge me for my tastes, the way I live, the friends I have, the music I listen to? What if they judge me for being me and I don't match up to the standards they set?

Isn't that what we all are afraid of when we carefully cover reality with Photoshop, sarcasm and well-done make-up. And maybe that's where the 'ego' stems from.

119 Seconds

My laundry for the week is done. Oh wait, I still have that bedsheet to deal with. Ah well, I'll give it to Sancy. Damn, they charge a lot. Oh, I have to stop at the ATM. Screw it, I'm too tired to stop anywhere, go straight home and into bed. Erm, dinner. What should I eat? Those sattu parathas from Food Junction are brilliant. But I don't want to go alone. Too many guys at this time. Ergh. Grow up. You're not in a small town anymore. And those guys are cute too. Ah well. Dammit, forgot to call Mom again. She's going to be upset. I have to book tickets too! How long is it to salary day? Damn that's too long. And the office trip is this weekend. Shit, I have nothing to wear. Shut up, Conscience, I DO NOT have anything to wear and that's true. Reminds me, where is that shrug I got last week. I hope she didn't flick it like she flicked the last one. I have to talk to her about moving out. Better still, I hope she moves out. God, why does she have a problem with how late I get home! Just because her boyfriend is too busy to entertain her. Ugh. Why do I get stuck with such people. And I cribbed about my college roommates. I miss them. Okay, now I feel guilty, I suck at keeping in touch and I still crib about missing them. I'll set reminders to call Indu this weekend. I should go down and visit her sometime. Been too long since I even talked to Aunty. Oooh, that be a sexy bike. I wish I had legs long enough to ride one of those. Damn. What and all God chooses not to give us. I should ressurect my Twitter. Well, fine, I'm hopeless at fitting things into 140 characters but still, I like the new app. And I need to check my inbox, too many messages unreplied. Why is that guy revving his stupid scooter? 19 seconds more to go and he's already in a hurry. The last straw will be if he honks at me. There he goes, asshole. I'm not budging until it's green, moron, go over me if you want to. Ah, here come the pedestrians, one day I'm going to take the time to stop and tell you how fucking awesome you are, not. I should get pizza and watch the rest of Magic Mike. No pizza, no money. Tickets. Tatum, I love you, how could you marry Dewan. The Duchess is having a baby! No shit. Please start. NOW. Ah, thank God.

P.S: In case you didn't guess, this is a depiction of what goes on in my head when I'm waiting for the traffic light to turn green. Yes, I'm entirely, hopelessly random like that.

 

To Roam The Lands Like A Spirit Free

Farzana and Twisha liked a photo of the Eiffel Tower on Facebook and that was enough to send me off on yet another tizzy of uncontrollable wanderlust.

Somewhere along the way I woke up to the fact that without even realizing it, I have been dreaming of going to Paris all my life, not because it is the city of love and I am sappy but because I'm a true Arian who loves the quaint, adventurous, classic beauty of the city in all the photos and pictures that I hungrily devour with my eyes.
Some say Paris is over rated. But I don't think that's the case at all. Or it might just be the images of luxurious opulence that is the Champs Elysees playing tricks on my mind. 

Actually, its not just Paris, it is the whole of Europe with its exotic, alluring charm, quaint accents and wonderous cuisine that draws me into its never-ending loop of storybook beauty, the kind that I grew up reading about and dreaming of.

I'm finding hard to resist the wanderlust as the days go by. I stalk travel blogs silently, envying the creators, wishing I was them. I fear that one day, it might just get too much for me to handle, that I will blow my ties to the world away to pack up and leave...

....in search of all the breathtaking, mind blowing, spectacular cities that I so so yearn to roam.

What I fear even more is that I might be buried one day, some day without having my breath taken and my mind blown, in which case, the photos will be everything and all that I'd have seen in a lifetime.

I leave you with a few images, take one look and tell me they don't make you sigh for lands unknown. If they don't, then you have yet to experience the deep, relentless pull of wanderlust that can make you sigh like no kind of lovesickness can.

Spain - Of fiery bulls, beautiful women and the above.

Rome - Grandeur. Period.

Ireland - Oh, the castles! *sigh*

Portugal - Complete with cobbled pavements and a fruit market in the distance

England - The picture has so less, yet says so much to me

Italy - Tell me, your breath caught. Do tell me.

Paris - My beloved darling, my muse on even the least creative days

Venice - How can this not be the best way to travel?

Its surprising, actually...

... How fast time passes by.

How you block out things you thought were most important. 

How much things change.

How many emotions one person can make you feel and not in a good way. 

How there are certain days when the sun shines so bright outside that it hurts your eyes but it refuses to dispel the darkness that tiptoes around your aura threatening to engulf you. (wow, that's dramatic)

How some feelings never change. 

How some feelings change so much that you wonder why you felt them in the first place. 

How long you can go without the things that you loved the most.

How much you can change, as a person, over the short period of one year. 

How different a person you actually are from who you thought you were.

How much effort it takes to put a smile on your own face just to ensure that people don't wonder why you always have a hangdog expression.

How little it takes to fall apart.

How difficult it is to just believe the words that come out of a person's mouth instead of questioning every intention, every thought behind it.

How much you have missed out on in a world that was your world.

How many people, relationships you have had to lose because you do not have the strength to explain. 

How cynical you have become of pretty much everything.

How long it has been since you actually had a bar of good, solid, comforting chocolate.

How small things that you left in the past come back to make you smile.

How much courage you get in knowing that you are strong enough to still want to say bring it on. 

How much happiness it infuses in you to know that someone still needs your shoulder. 

How awesome it is when you can cross the road during peaktime traffic all by yourself.

How brilliant it is to have a group of people who just let you be and make you laugh.

How much hope it gives you that those people might let you call them your friends. 

How much it means to know that someone is trying to make you laugh despite everything.

How high you get on being noticed for having potential.

How much it means when someone believes in you with a steadfastness you have yet to see in others' eyes.

How the person you thought you hated is the only one who really believed in you, fought for you.

How funny Will & Grace is.

How some people have the knack of saying exactly what you want to hear and despite your cynicsm, you believe in them.

How mindnumbingly, awesome sukhapuri really is.

A long way, I have come.

A long way, I have to go.

 

I leave you to drool over this monstrosity from Indijoe's, Bangalore. A cake that almost got me a promotion, one that made me sick of food itself for well over a week.

 P.S: I HAD to write a depressing post before I could move past, so COME ON and cut me some slack, won't you? If anybody still visits this place, that is :D

P.P.S: I lost months of work that I did on my blog and a couple of pages that I loved as well, all because of a tiny mistake I made. Ah well, let's start from scratch, shall we?

The Subtle Winds Of Change...

I sit here in my over-sized comfy tee listening to the wind wreak havoc on the plants outside. I keep the drapes down but the all-permeating chill still manages to creep through me, an involuntary shiver running through my hunched up body. I can’t call him either, he’s too far, too removed from my life now.

I reach out for the teddy bear mug, my favorite, and find myself thinking how clichéd it is. All my adult life I have been defending myself from being categorized as ‘girly’ but almost every possession of mine screams out ‘girly’ in not-so-dulcet tones. 

But I don’t faint when I see cute actors, I get excited with shopping only if the time is right, I don’t have to try to NOT be blonde. I detest pink, I don’t like taking photos of myself because I look dreadful in all of them, I definitely do not go squeaky… but maybe that’s a thought for another day.

The milky coffee is hot enough to burn my tongue just a little bit. I like it that way. I never could stand lukewarm anything. It’s either boiling hot or freezing. It’s all or nothing. My thoughts wander. The cursor blinks awaiting instructions like a tiny little genie awaiting orders.

Silence. Silence as loud as a rock concert. It seems to be pressing at me from all sides. But somehow I like it.

I relish solitude these days. I like being by myself. I like the silence that solitude brings with it. I seem to have changed somehow. Planes shifting within me, subtly changing who I am, what I stand for.

I seem to have left behind the version 1.0 and evolved into someone else, version 2.0 perhaps. The old me would have been miserable without anyone to talk to, without a life outside this life. She would have cried lonely tears, ranted and raved till she got what she wanted. Till all became well with the world. But me?  I’m happy satisfied with what I have. I stop expecting, I stop reacting. I wait for it to come to me before I make a decision, rather than be trade markedly impulsive.

Maybe this was always me and I hid behind who I wanted to be.
Maybe this was a change that was a process rather than a happening.
Maybe it’s my reaction to all that happened this year, good and bad.
I know not and I’m proud to say I care not, either.

I still love chocolate, though, much to my own surprise and nobody else’s. A Milkybar Choo can still make me smile even in the loneliest of times. Maybe I haven’t changed that much after all.

And this one goes out to someone who'll know it's for them: 

"You should not try to force someone to be with you,
especially when you know that your being there doesn't make a difference."

- as tweeted by Red Handed

P.S: I'd promised myself I wouldn't write abstract posts. This, I couldn't help. Bear with me.

P.S: It's not sadness, it's melancholy.