Just a thought...

Just a thought...

03-04-2013
23:13

It's so easy to get yourself in a foul mood.
You know your triggers far too well.
Compulsive behavior.
The need to find yourself in a state of melancholy is as addictive as the need for a high.

But all it takes is a little push to get out of it. One stern no to yourself.

Because, in the end, you outgrow the damage.
You evolve.

Letting Go

How do you deal with pain, misery, being unsatisfied, not being able to get what you want?

One is acceptance. The worse has happened, accept it, let it go. Then there are those who find it better to repress it. Repress the anger, repress the pain, the guilt, whatever load there is that's weighing you down. But repression is always temporary, it can never be a permanent solution. The skeletons are going to tumble out of the closet some day.

Acceptance may be permanent, if you are strong enough. The point is, the mind is such an untamable object. Thoughts just run haywire. But at the same time, it is very mouldable. You can hold on to whatever you think is important, without questioning your decision. But a point comes when it starts to choke you. That is the time to re-evaluate your choice. Do you really need to hold on to things that you know will bring you pain? The rational answer is obviously no. But, still you do it. That self-destructive, self-pitying streak in you, it is unrelenting. Bittersweet.

But when you do overcome that, you wonder what made you hold on to something so meaningless in the first place. Because the thing about life is, whether you like it or not, it goes on. And you will have to move with the current. Stagnation is impossible: it is against the very fabric of the elements the universe has been moulded in. It is against our nature. Holding on will only cause misery. 

The present will always be the thing that matters the most. 

Poison

Here comes another piece of fiction writing for the Indifiction workshop organized by Suresh Chandrasekaran and The Fool. The current edition (fifth) is being judged by Deepa Duraisamy, Arvind Passey and Jayashree Srivatsan. The plot provided by Arvind Passey was exciting and challenging. It can be accessed here: http://indifictionworkshop.blogspot.in/2013/02/exercise-for-edition-5.html

I gave up a lot of times while writing this piece and had to ask people to push me to get it done. I loved the plot, but, being used to be fed details, it was difficult working on it.


Here's a snippet of the story:





06:05, 01/02/13






Samir shivered in the early morning chill. It was barely five minutes past six and it had taken him a humunguos effort to relinquish the warmth of his bed for a jog. Not that he needed the exercise. Or wanted it. The neighbour's teen-aged daughter had started getting insecure about her figure and he was more than ready to lend a helping hand.
'Late again', he muttered as he fixed his hair using a parked car's side mirror. 'Sexy eyes', he crooned, looking into his reflection. 'Hmmm. Handsome face', he smiled, moving back a few paces. 'Strong should...what the hell!!', something in the reflection had sent shivers down his spine. He spun around to spot the source of the horror and gasped. There, behind the car, in the narrow lane between the buildings of the compound, hung, tangled in a mesh of wires, the body of a young girl, covered in blood.
Samir stood transfixed, unable to comprehend the scene before him. Who could've done this? It was one of the most peaceful, residential areas of the town. What should he do? Calling the cops meant dealing with questions and possible accusations. But why should he be scared? He looked at the face of the young girl. The eyes, still open, looked startled, as if she too was surprised to find herself in a position like this. Dangling from a set of wires at six in the morning. On a Sunday.


Samir snapped out of his daze. He decided he shouldn't be seen in the company of a dead body so early in the morning. He was just a regular jogger, trying to score the neighbour's daughter. Satisfied with his decision, he turned on his heel and jogged away. Had he waited a few minutes he would have earned himself some interesting company.


The door of the balcony of one of the flats on the seventh floor swung open and a middle-aged man stepped out, looking bewildered. He cut a handsome figure of masculinity except for the red ladies' gown that he was wearing. He stood puzzled for a few minutes, trying to remember why he was so dressed. But a trail of blood on the floor caught his attention. He followed it to the edge of the railing, grabbed the handrail firmly, peeped down gingerly and felt the ground beneath his feet give away. The earth trembled, the sky erupted with bolts of lightning and the Sun spewed fire as Mr.Sibal let out a horrified, ear-splitting scream.


Check out the rest at:


http://indifictionworkshop.blogspot.in/2013/03/poison.html

Love for the walls

We're moving out from the house we've lived in for fifteen years. It shouldn't bother me much because I have been practically living out the last six years. But, bonds of memories unite you with the concrete of pillars and the bricks in the walls...




This room. So quiet, still. This is where I grew up. Read and wrote. Dreamed and waited. These walls stand witness to all that I felt. All the gods I worshiped, lost faith in and renounced- their edifices once adorned these walls. Till I took them down and out, out of my life. These walls have seen all those that mattered. Heard the conversations- the clever scheming, the giggling fits, the starry eyed dreams, the lore of loss...

It is in this room where the stray rays of the moon filter in through the window that I have slept, safe from the outside, secure in my thoughts. This is where I imagined myself being magical, being famous, being someone, being anyone... Till it was time to pack my bags and leave, see the world for what it was. Yet, I cannot hide from this room, all the things I have learnt and un-learnt with every trip and journey. It is here that I must return, to remember or to lose the burden of memory. For this room holds the knowledge accumulated all through these years. It holds answers. It is a mirror reflecting the past. It is a mirror reflecting what's inside. It is a pensive. It is a safe-keeper. It is a caregiver. It has me, in every scratch and speck.

Staying safe in the City

I returned to Delhi two weeks back. There is an element of paranoia in the evening breeze of the city. The other day I had to take an auto-rickshaw to get back to college. It was barely six in the evening but my heart was beating like a drum. It's not like I'm faint hearted, I can travel on my own and take care of myself. But a few days back, a friend of mine was walking on the street and two men on a bike tried to snatch her phone from her. She managed to save it, but the incident left it's impact. The city is merciless and you can't trust any corner. Staying safe is number one on the priority list.
I managed to scramble a list of some things you can do to keep yourself secure:

1. Carrying pepper spray, chilli powder or in extreme circumstances, deodorant. Come on women, walk to that pharmacy and buy a can of mace. Or order one online. How hard can it be? Or is it just laziness? Or denial?

2. Being alert. Not letting yourself get involved in phone/laptop/book or conversation. Pay attention to your surroundings. If using public transport, pay attention to what the driver and co-passengers are up to. If walking on the street, avoid letting yourself into dark corners or places where you'd be suspectible to harassment. When walking alone, paying attention is of the utmost importance. That text or phone call can wait.

3. If possible, carry a bulky bag. It intimidates people and can be used as a weapon.

4. Layer your clothes. I'm not recommending wearing burqas, but, a pair of leggings beneath that skirt or a scarf wrapped around your neck would do well to deter stalkers.

5. Create a scene. Scream, shout, threaten. No person who has ill intentions on his/her mind would like to draw attention to him/her self.

6. Looking confident and in control. I cannot stress this point more. People are quick to take advantage of a damsel in distress. So, even if you are on the verge of becoming one, never let it get to your face and bearing. I am horrible at remembering addresses and directions and prone to getting lost on every other trip I make outside. I'd like to believe that there are other women out there who too feel lost or out of place at times. And it is situations like these when you look most vulnerable and susceptible to exploitation. The trick here is to maintain your composure no matter what. Walk as if you own the place. Ask for directions, ask questions, but don't let the panic get to your voice.

7. Don't hesitate to call the police, security guard or the helpline numbers. They've been installed to help you.
Helpline number for Women: 1091 & 011-24121234In addition to this, Delhi Police has a whole list of helpline numbers for women in different parts of the city. http://www.delhipolice.nic.in/home/helpline/helpline.aspx