Drift or change?

An year, almost, a period of blandness, conflicting thoughts, varied opinions and an incomplete soul, on the look out for that strange bit of inspiration, to feel gnarl about writing. I keep coaxing myself to believe it's not a change, but a drift, from the limbo I created for myself back in the winter. But then the muse of escapism from reality surmounts, one which engulfs the brain into a pool of thoughts of what happened, what did not, of perceptions, expectations, success and failures.

Its ironical how in present, we invent a different future for ourselves, and a different past for others. 

However bleak the memory becomes, we never fail to glorify our clover and others erratum. What one remembers isn't what one has actually witnessed. Images blur, words become muddy and memories fade into oblivion. The grand things, become smaller, and eventually mask the scenario, which ones meant something. Sometimes, the version remains engraved, in hope of others mistakes to be taken note of, guilt to be subsided and apologies to be granted. Ofcourse, by you, not for you. What path does one take then? Pretence? Indifference? Blame? Or simple silence?

As she glided past the buildings, shops, jammed streets, the unknown yet familiar faces, she drowned herself into a strange state of nostalgia to a time when life felt complete running after the red lighted ice cream peddler, when the biggest worry seemed in defying elders to step out of the premises to walk secretively up till the temple, in the sense of experiencing freedom and when happiness held its meaning in the purest of form. How much had changed in these ten years, she wondered. All those empty roads which gave her a jitter to cross as dusk drew in, she wandered through aimlessly now amidst the crowd of people and endless conversations, in the vexation to return home from the hectic path she had chosen to embark her journey upon. The little crowded bazaar, which once glittered and gleamed in mystification, now proved to be an obstruction altogether. The place she remembered so dearly, held a denial in her practical mind, which either drifted or changed from those little whims and fancies of life.

She feared her life wouldn't turn out to be like that in literature, not much of a guessing game that she fancied it to be, or a mind boggling ride into over thinking and adventurous envisions. Rather, it seemed to become monotonous, with predicted set of rules and boundaries of expectations, from her and for her. She wanted to break free and drift into a path of desolate fabrications. The light which guided her home seemed hazy when she dared to think distinctively. Not that she was being bound in a cage by others, but herself. What feared her, she didn't seam to decipher. A thrill of emotions was missing as she raced her mind into the past, harbouring her version of pleasant scenarios. What made her shift thoughts between what was, what is, and what possibly could never be, so briskly,was something she couldn't comprehend.

What was that little piece of puzzle she was searching for, that little ray of light that could enliven her again, that little hope of completeness to complement the contentment she had reached in her life (or not?).

She began to realize that as time flew past, there was accumulation, responsibility and beyond that, great unrest.    

Conflicting thoughts.

Random encounters. Pretty smiles. Strange beautiful faces. New acquaintances. Change. 

Was Nandini ready to embrace it? She wondered, as she drowned herself in endless thoughts, fighting her alter ego of what meant right and what was out rightly wrong. She felt a spasm of hypocrisy building in her veins, of becoming everything that Aryan was, and what he did, or not? After all, the care she held for the world was too much to clasp, consuming every bit of her emotion, and putting together a selfish act was an idea too gruesome and unlikely to her in all regards.

Karan was everything she liked. A shoulder to support her conflicting thoughts, her bizarre emotions, a shield to protect her from pessimism, which she tried drifting towards now and again, and more than anything a good change. But, was he just all of that? When she first saw him, she felt a queer connection, and each word of conversation that flowed between them was as smooth as ice, unlike all the awkwardness and odds she experienced with people generally. Funny, charming, shy yet confident, extremely sweet, and someone she thought she should've met like 6 months later, but was glad anyway to have around, in whatever twisted sense of relation that they shared. These thoughts were suppressed by emotions of guilt, fear and chaos. It was too soon for her to let her thoughts wander in this direction. Was it just a phase, or she had begun to weave a new apologue with him altogether? He didn't just make her smile, but made her jump around in her bubbly attire, throwing away any signs of despair, forgetting for a few moments the dejection that Vishal had caused, making her stop believing in herself. After ages, she felt important and well, pretty. But was this feeling enough to let her mind lose? To consider the idea of believing again, and let the walls she built so high tremble by a few degree, or vanish altogether?

The place where he let his heart open, his mind straight and truth aloud, was a stinging scene of deja vu. What kind of a game was god playing with her? Testing her to make decisions in which regard? She didn't understand any of this. 

It had only been two months since things went from bad to worse for Nandini. She lost on confidence in herself, than anything or anyone else. The word "trust" sent jitters down her spine, and she camouflaged her feelings into a shell, so that no one could anymore see the real her. It wasn't like she wasn't happy, but there was certainly something missing. Missing reasons, missing people, missing times, and well missing out on knowing where she went so drastically wrong. He had moved on far ahead, maybe even started on the journey of love again, but why it still bothered her, she couldn't grasp. She wanted to feel indifferent, for when love was gone, did only hate deserve to take up its place? She kept waiting...for what, she couldn't decipher. She had given up on him, but had she really let go? She knew for a fact that he was never coming back, but did she even want him to? Every broken promise, made her lose faith in the idea of love and chances to another level. What had she achieved cutting her soul open to the one who crushed it into pieces, stomped his way forward, leaving her broken and faithless? Now and again he jolted her back into that melancholic trance, to remind her of the pain, just to contract the guilt that had taken seed in his heart.

Yes, all that he took her for was guilt. The cruelty of this fact crushed her. But what could she have done? Nothing could be done. He was gone.

In the midst of such venomous thoughts, did she deserve to hurt someone innocent? When she seemed so indecisive about what she wanted in life, could she really give Karan what he expected? All she knew was she could forget about the past, for those few moments she got to be with him. Like a forbidden fruit, and against the odds she decided not to succumb to, she felt herself drawn to him more and more by the ticking of the clock. What were these butterflies that rambled her stomach each time he looked at her, justify? Did these conflicting thoughts make her exactly what she hated, and what was once done to her? If not, then did Aryan really deserve the cold shoulder she gave him all this time? Or the hypocrisy made her forgive him after all these years?

Coming clean might be the soothing factor, where she wasn't messing up to that extent, however complicating her life to another level.

He told her to take a leap of faith, to let things flow...and that he was ready to wait. Selfish thoughts prompted her to make him stick to that stand, but was that a right thing to do?

She was not ready to take a chance so soon, to be judged, to get hurt, and most importantly to lose him and her belief in something good...

Or was she?

The road not taken.

Time. It has the power to heal, break, crush, revive, hope and change. It opens up the frontiers to choices of the path we'll lead, to make us what we should be and what we are. But the alternative we accept is an individual's decision, with no assistance from whomsoever. Sometimes going down the memory lane, we wish to have made some decisions differently, or made none at all. Contrary to belief, I think choices are easy to make, but memories are impossible to erase. Every choice comes with a consequence, which we realize in the least bits, but haunts our present like a parasite engulfing on each step already taken. It is rightly said that we must not live in our past, for its gone, and also not make speculations about the future, but try to keep our feet on the present and learn to accept it. However, I ask you, isn't every bit of you a reflection of your past? Would you have got here without making all those decisions that you did? What would it have been like had you changed your answer, or well, not answered at all?

Eight months, wow this is going incredibly well, too well actually, for all I expected, thought Nandini. She was happy, for having the perfect job, perfect home, and the perfect guy. What more would a girl just having stepped out in the real world want out of her normal routine life? It was as if everything was falling back in place. But still she had an intuition, that something was going terribly wrong. The problem was not able to find the problem, yet feeling so hollow inside. Like someone was picking out the pieces from her life's jigsaw puzzle, one by one with the ticking of clock. She wanted to snatch back all those moments, which were slipping out, no matter which side she turned to or which road she decided to take. Her priorities had deluged her into darkness of the degree, that she started falling behind the opacity of a wall, afraid to let anyone see the softness of her heart and her overpowering emotions. Anyone but him. He helped break through those stern pieces of bricks, and made her believe that he'll not leave. He pestered her mind with the thought that people will disappoint you, leave, and never turn back, but some will stay, no matter how difficult the road chosen gets, because they are destined to. For once in forever, she let go of her fears, showing her real self, not afraid of the consequences that awaited her, to twist it all into a ball of entangled difficulties, impossible to find a way out of.  

But why were all lessons that she implemented on him hopeless conclusions drawn out of failures from what she grasped out of bungles in clutching on to Aryan? Was life really this perfect, or was she just pretending of having understood every inch of pain she carried that buried her deeper in the ground with every step she took to embrace the feeling of letting go? She didn't understand her thoughts, emotions, or well, herself. How could she expect to drop the veil to another soul, when she couldn't decipher her own self. She knew she had let go of the past, but was she in a state of mind to handle this level of commitment, which was eventually turning into slow poison, capturing her will, mind and body to the insecurities and fears of his. Was it fair? She didn't give it a thought, and acted naive to just go with the flow. How terrible was the idea to act on your instincts for a change, than a chalked out careful plan? How unrealistic did the thought of acting her own age and seize things as they appear seem? Well, for once she implemented rationality and insanity in a perfect blend, which she thought would do wonders, and she was right. For how long, well, that was a different story. 

She realized she cared too much, and pretty much about every intrinsic detail in the world. This included the ones who mattered, the ones who didn't, and the ones that once did. But he had a different story to look forward to. The failures of his epic love with Anahita, brought him to a stand still, letting go in the belief of something that could really last. She impaired his thoughts, attitude and life altogether. His commitment towards Nandini was nothing but a step towards change from the painful memories of the past. How much he loved her, or if he loved her at all, was an answer he himself searched for. She was the astonishing female version of him, making him believe that this was right path to have taken, unaware of his detachment that would follow with every step he took on this new road. Unaware of the melancholy of hearts that would soon follow, they held on to the idea of each other, the grip of which started to abscond with every breathe taken. The pretence couldn't last forever, the cracks in the foundation were too severe, however beautiful the illusion seemed to be, it had to come to an "unexpected" halt. 

That is the thing about humans. Perceptions. The attitude which forces an individual to believe in the action and consequences of ones right and wrong. We fail to access the weight of the past realities that the other person is carrying, affecting their decisions, and in turn changing our stars. We are told to not judge a person on their defeats, but hang around to support them in future endeavours. But can we tell if this is all going to turn out in a fruitful exercise? How can we alter the course of our present, when it is determined by the vivacity of the counterpart? Does this person you put all your effort and thoughts into, consider you even remotely important enough to give away a pebble of thought or piece of heart, to make it last? Or is this just a selfish, cruel and harsh world, where you and I are just two bubbles, waiting to push the other one down and strive to go a little higher? If that's the case, why don't we realize that eventually the bubble will succumb to the pull of karma, and burst?

The multitudinous thoughts drowned her in a sea of pensive despair, as she tried to fight back and create a new bubble of hopes, expectations and realities to hold on to in the fate that she was creating, as she let him go... 

A wall.

Staring at the raindrops as they create a rhythmic melancholic sound, past the immediate crowds and fast moving surroundings, paying heed to the mellow entourage and staying in sync with tiny tear drops rolling down her flustered cheeks as she thinks endlessly and drowns herself into a cage of emotions. Everything seems right on the outside, but is like a deep hollow in her chest, and she feels, forcing herself to embrace herself over her triumphs and successes in the recent past. She keeps jolting herself to respond to one question, whether this is really what she wanted? 
Fake smiles, praises, and talks suffocates and unnerves her to break free or to break in, she doesn't know. She decides to break into a limbo, where she can close the doors to anyone who tries to intrigue her to let her guard down, to make her vulnerable, breakable and lost. A state of oblivion to everything, but one, herself. Where no word would make a difference, where all care would mean nothing but a bubble she wouldn't dare engulfing herself in. Maybe she isn't mend for what she's got, but will a couple of hands pulling her down into a black hole give her what she deserves? Do these hands deserve her attention, after every inch of handwork she's succumbed herself into, just to get lost in the pool of horrendous antagonism?

She's told that's how the world revolves. That's how we're all mend to be. Alone. Everything, everything is a competition. Whoever said winning wasn't everything...Never had a scalpel. 

But the question is, what after that? Has one ever thrown a light on what follows once you make yourself reach the top, stomping anything and everything that crosses your way, just like a soldier, crushing your "enemy" in cold blood. But is this enemy really what you'll name it? Or its a masked illusion, which you want to keep as your closest possession, only to destroy you completely with each passing second? Stitching her lips to bring a harbouring close to any words which might shut the small window of hope, she elopes into a world of taciturnity. Better remain mute than sabotage any signs of happiness and hope, which she deep down realizes is nothing but a fantasy. Its not that she can't speak, that her brain has become dormant, but its a forced will to not utter words which might pierce her own thoughts and awaken sorrow which might fall upon her for the crime of being diligent and a tad bit lucky? 

Maybe she needs to understand the perks of being a wallflower, and find joy in solitude, and create an aura of happiness in her own misery. She now knows that every single time she's tried to cut lose her thoughts, and spoken her heart out, all she's got is resentment and negativity. Pessimism defines her, and she proudly accepts that. Every steps towards optimism has been a blend with a backward push to relinquish positivity. Maybe we're not supposed to be happy. Maybe gratitude has nothing to do with joy. Appreciating small victories maybe does not exist in everybody's life dictionary. 

"Communication. It's the first thing we really learn in life. The funny thing is, once we grow up, learn our words and really start talking, the harder it becomes to know what to say. Or how to ask for what we really need."

Sometimes she feels she's too much on everyone. A burden. But she wonders, how do you know how much is too much? Too much too soon. Too much information. Too much fun. Too much love, or too much to ask of someone? When is it all just too much for us to bear?

Just like the thunder, she shudders to the thought of speaking out. That's she'll be squelched. Her expectations and perceptions will go in nothing but vain...And she'll shut herself to reality behind a wall so unbreakable and tough, that nothing in the world will let her fall, making her stall tall and strong to anything and everything that comes in her way...

Ishwar Allah tero naam, sabko sanmati de bhagwaan...

It is rightly said that the incarnation of man was brought about by a miraculous force, which the human mind entangled in tradition and norms believes to be a supernatural identity named “God”. After much of research and reasoning, intermingled with many coincidences and circumstances, the belief has grown stronger in an unquestionable power much above all of us, having sewed the increscent beads of the universe and life in one beautiful bond. Has anyone seen this triumphant power? The question remains unanswered.  “God has no religion”, said the father of the nation in jest of bringing an end to the social taboo of communalism and riots sprouting out of religious differences. However, the people, blinded by ulterior motives of a sect of dominating personalities are driven to develop non tolerance or even hatred for one another’s religion. Dirty politics can explicitly harm a society and destroy it in the name of religion. The question which arises here is whether these religions themselves support such an idea of divide? Quoting from Quran, it is said, “I am only a mortal like you, it is revealed to me that your god is only one god, therefore follow the right way to him and ask his forgiveness…” Similarly, Guru Nanak’s preaching states, “God is one, but he has innumerable forms.” With such direct wordings of God in his different names, having been said and piled in the memoirs of history, where do the interpretations go so drastically awry, stirring the masses towards the idea of violence?

One god who’s religion would remain a mystery for generations and beyond is Sai baba. Having read through all his enchanting stories and life comings, it is impossible to state which religion he actually followed or nudged his devotees to seek. It’s not been eminently long since he took his last breath, dating back to 1918, which isn’t even hundred years, it is an astonishing sight of no communalist divide in Shirdi, if one watches closely enough. If he preached the idea of Islam, then why does “Aarti” take place in his name, every day, which is a Hindu ritual? Conversely, if the opposite is believed, then why is there a tomb in the “Samadhi Mandir”, where he was given burial, which is unequivocally an Islamic ceremonial, rather than following the Hindu tradition of burning the dead? Also, right in front of the popular place named Chavdi, stands the cottage of his biggest devotee who himself was a Muslim. In present context also, it was discovered that a Muslim shopkeeper was selling articles predominantly required in Hindu god worshipping, showing a perfect example of amalgamation of survival in harmony of individuals ofvarious religions. If such a niche supporting peace and love can exist, fostering the idea of one god and doing one’s dharma, to achieve acceptance from “him”, then why is it so difficult to inculcate the same in the minds of the entire world community? After all, humanity should take seat much above any other conviction.

An article written for a competition. Chip in your views on the same. :) 

Goa Diaries I

Picture perfect. Orange blue sky, sun gradually making its adieu, throwing the last pieces of its rays on the crystal clear water. Surrounded by nature all around, green and blue, quite and ecstatic. In the lap of nature, don't wake me up from this dream so beautiful...but wait, this isn't a dream, this really is it, I'm here. My eyes roll past the scene trying to capture every intrinsic detail, painting it all over the dull plain pieces of unimaginative canvas in my head, literally bringing my sense to life. Tip toeing my way in the hap hazard terrain, I stretch my steps to the closest I can get to feel more alive. Can it get any better than this? But wait, the clumsy me gives me shocks now and then, jolting me to believe the dream I'm living is all real, until you catch me, not letting this dream falter in the slightest of possibilities. Sitting on the most uncomfortable rocks, breathing in the surroundings full of all the intricacies I've been the most afraid of, till date, nothing scares me anymore. For we're here. All of us. Together.

Gliding our way back the strenuous terrain, I learn so much more. "Walk with your feet diagonal and not straight. Watch out!", you command your way through, as I try to process the instructions as swiftly as possible. But you make sure to guard me like a shield if I falter, making me feel protected, ready to catch me as I fall, which anyway I am. :)  Joking about ghosts that roam around the fort, I walk faster, not realizing the distraction created to make us reach much earlier than before. Clever much? For sure! 

Back on the bike, like everyday, the cool breeze kicking in, accompanying the ride which is no less than that of a roller coaster. Thin twisted roads, no traffic; speed, adrenaline, songs, rain drops, breezing past the tiny huts and signs of settlement. Just one thought rolling past in my head, is this the real paradise? Following the most complicated path, through roads so narrow that would allow nothing wider than a bike to pass, bumpy and muddy full of puddles of water. Finally we made it to the sea, and Curlies. The concept was as astonishing as it could get. You don't have money to afford too much food? Or want to spend it all over alcohol? Well, then walk out to the option of omelette in all varieties, cheap and sumptuous. Oh, and the perfectly quite and beautiful walk about the sea, in the moonlight, surely was a Walk to Remember. Lying in your lap, on the bed of sea as the water came gushing, mellowing its force with every inch of closeness it made, eventually making its way back to start the cycle all over again, was an exquisite sight all together. 

Sitting on low lying couches, sharing moments of laughter and games, and getting bemused in the trance, as with the ticking seconds the sound seemed to pick up, creating a melancholic rhythm in our head, the mind was brimming with the idea to dance our hearts out, but the body wanted to just lie low and absorb everything. The lights seemed so bright, so astonishing, conversations around seemed so real, so interesting. And me? I felt like a frozen wax, ready to lash out the light within me as I consumed the feel of music, people and sea. 

Deciding to groove to the tunes, we made our way inside the club. And then it was like us slow dancing on swift beats. The world seemed to have vanished. Just you, me and that gigantic speaker. Swaying in your arms, I smiled like an idiot, closing my eyes and resting my head on your chest, finding every moment spent here just so hard to process. Time raced past, but for me it was like the clock had stopped ticking. I wanted to stay in this moment, with you, forever...

And in a flash went away a perfect day in Goa, and added to everlasting memories in all our heads.

Unexpected happiness.

Its rightly said that one should not expect too much out of people, time and particularly life. Contemplating your future is actually a shot in the dark, a lost game before the beginning and something utterly out of reach. So does the saying about good things coming your way when you least expect it, hold true. Maybe the fact lies that we drop our expectations to such a low that anything new or unusual makes a difference. Or maybe its the people that really make a difference. But how does one know who's the unique one, who'll flip your life novel into a new beautiful chapter all together?
People have their own theories. Some might even pose a strong belief in love at first sight. I find the idea completely absurd, defeating the concept of love, taken over by lust in its most vivid form of attraction and short lived feelings. But what if you find a person who has the same perceptions as you do? Will that be a sign? Wouldn't that completely violate the idea of opposites attracting and making the perfect combination?
Rightly he says, Opposites attracting happens only in movies. In reality, is it really possible to live your life, share your ideas and be yourself with someone who's got completely twisted views? Someone with whom your opinions will create a nexus of conflicts and questioning over compatibility. 
Maybe it seems too "boring" an idea, or extremely stable to comprehend? But is that really worth giving up for instant clashes and non understanding of emotional outbursts, because the other person is too immature to handle you, or well, too different.

When I saw him, it was a usual sight. An admirable personality, appealing looks with the most enticing smile. A bubbly face, running around with the gleaming excitement to complete his work, had this certain aura about himself. He was certainly not "my type" of a guy, but there was something which allured me. Maybe the crushed expectations, the disappointments of the past made me believe that I'd never see him again. Hearing the enthusiasm in my friends voice, calling him one of THE people to glue our eyes at, made me want him to come and talk to me, all the more. Just once.
Didn't happen. 

1 day.
2 day.
.
.
.

27 february, Bingo! 

With the twist of fate, you talked to me, I don't know how and when, but everything is different now. Sometimes I wish you would've appeared from these thin clouds of disparity much sooner. But who knows, maybe then things might have been different? All I know is, I'm ready now. Ready to consume the happiness, the laughter, the little things which make everything so much better. Maybe you're completely opposite of the "prototype" I believed I was mend to be with, but certainly that's because you're too special. :) The fact that the similarities are too strikingly alike, how you understand every pinch of difference in my mood, and keep your cool when I'm oh-so-freaking complicated; makes me cherish us in every bit of detail.
Straight silky black hair, strong arms, beautiful black eyes, broad chest to take the burden of my never ending "nautaunkiyaan", and the feeling that says I'm so not letting him go anywhere, ever. <3

I'll bring down these walls I built to keep myself safe from all the lies, pain and disparity, in the hope that this time I wouldn't have to regret. This time, things will change. This feeling of optimism is here to stay, and I wouldn't give it up for the most precious of possibilities. I wouldn't time bind this, for certain situations and people make everything too real and sure, erasing the idea of stepping back and waiting. Yes, now I know, I was waiting for YOU.

Cause all I know is we said helloAnd your eyes look like coming homeAll I know is a simple name, everything has changedAll I know is you held the doorYou'll be mine and I'll be yoursAll I know since yesterday is everything has changed
:)