In Between the 'Perfects' & 'Seemingly-Perfects'

Sam: Why do I and everyone I love, pick people who treat us like we’re nothing?
Charlie: We accept the love we think we deserve.
--- The Perks of Being a Wallflower

Weird however it may be but, its an unarguable fact that we accept the love we think we deserve and quite ironically, that love most often is the kind of love that’s just not meant for us. We are a part of this mad, mad world where everyone is running after things, people, emotions that are least fitting for them. Wasting ourselves to get hold of our objects of desire, trying every tactic possible to make it work the way we want it to, going reasonably unreasonable with our lives for that one damn thing that we think ‘should’ be ours...but what do all those efforts boil down to? --- Disappointment.
Plain disappointment, simply because what is not meant for us would never be ours...no matter how hard we try.

It is indeed strange how we all are submitted to human psyche’s one black rule --- 'Perfect' things shall be taken for granted while the 'Seemingly-Perfect' things shall be adored and craved for beyond capacity.
We are somehow booted not to value the most fitting things for they find a way to us and hence, they automatically lose worth. The desirability quotient ironically stands inversely proportionate to the kind of treatment we are granted. We crave for the person’s attention who never pays attention to us, a relationship becomes an obsession where we are treated like just-another-partner, we fall in love with people who aren’t or wouldn’t fall in love with us…so on and so forth the round world keeps running round.

Lives could have been so much more simple if we were able to see through, identify and accept things that were meant only for us; that fitted best to us.  Could have spared so many broken hearts, crying eyes, disappointments, disgust, hatred, irritation, inferiority...if only, we never picked people who treated us like we were nothing!

The Language of Silence

Somebody said it well - 'Sometimes the most powerful thing you can say is - nothing at all.'

Don’t know why but, I find silence extremely liberating. Being a person who most often finds words falling short to replicate the expressions, silence for me is the most powerful and compatible language. No, am not an introvert nor a loner, but somehow things that I can’t say in a combination of thousand words, I can convey it seamlessly through silence, that too in the most unadulterated form. It is legible – Silence, it is expressive and it is beautiful, if only you understand it.

There is something loud and clear about unspoken words, they spell thoughts and emotions in the most genuine form for, one never goes silent on things one isn’t passionate about. Sitting against a window watching the raindrops, walking down the pavements alone, sinking in the wishful reveries – silence is all consuming. And soothing. And addictive. 

It caresses the soul like nothing else; a drug to which the more you get access to, the more you ask for it. A cocooned sphere where you are not answerable to anyone nor anyone else is put to answering you. A space where you can be yourself and let others be the way they are, where relationships are not robbed off their dignity and warmth, where there are no blame games and expectations...its just a golden space, a vacuumed golden space where you are devoid of all the worldly vices and virtues and find yourself floating in the abyss of a perfect wonderland of your thoughts.

...yes, I have and I do wander to that golden field beyond the right-doings and wrong-doings many a times...the place where words are shunned while silence speaks for itself...I relate to it, to that golden field; guess its the place I belong to...

One Saturday Story

She had always been excited about her birthdays, ever since her childhood. This year she was a little more excited… it was going to be special for her coz her birthday was falling on a Saturday!

A SATURDAY……of late, the cold wintry Saturday nights had turned into warm cozy conversations for her. She sleepwalked the entire week to stay up all through the Saturday nights for those sweet nothings that made her smile the following days. For her, to have her birthday on a Saturday this year was a small little trick of destiny for fostering the bond that grew, a bit more strong.

She daydreamed about the events of her special day as she entered her birthday month. With each passing day her anxiety and excitement increased…for anxiety made her stand in front of the mirror and practice the standard replies to the standard questions. Recording and analyzing her voice speaking vague monologues were another attempt at correcting the voice pitch. Spoken conversations had never been her forte and so, she practiced, practiced, practiced and practiced hard; she didn’t want to mess it up at any cost...not this time. As for the excitement, she couldn’t wait for her birthday to witness what the day held for her; how she would be pampered – It was to be a Saturday afterall.

Her birthday – 12:00 a.m. – Cell started beeping in as her friends and family members poured texts and calls to wish her. She thanked everyone, laughed, chirped, enjoyed the attention with only one thing at the back of her mind – It’s a Saturday today.

9:00 a.m. – Her spirits were high. She roamed in the house like a five year old kid – singing, jumping, fooling around; excited and hopeful about the day ahead. She was ardently waiting for ‘the conversation’ to happen coz it was her birthday and, it was a Saturday.

4:00 p.m. – She shuffled her closet to find the most complementing accessories for the clothes that she planned to wear for celebrations with her friends. She then blow-dried her hair until she got them styled exactly as she wanted. The amount of moisturizer was a bit more generous today coz she had to look her best not because it was her birthday, but because it was a Saturday.

6:00 p.m. – Amidst all the hullabaloo of celebrations with her friends, she had a clear sense of just one simple fact; the day that it was – Saturday.

9:00 p.m. – Her anxiety was at its peak. This – was the time ‘the conversation’ needed to happen for, the hours of her special day were slipping away. She was sad for not being paid any attention since morning and so didn’t need any other reason to complain or spoil the highly anticipated conversation. Her anxiety, nervousness and irritation didn’t allow her to part from her phone simply because it was a Goddamn Saturday!

12:00 a.m. – Lying in her bed, she couldn’t believe her cell screen showing a different date and a different day. Her ‘birthday’ which was on a ‘Saturday’ was over…and…there was no conversation.
With a sudden sense of betrayal, she found the flashes of her speech practicing, dressing up, getting herself clicked and more, mocking at her. Feeling utterly foolish and unable to hold back, all her efforts, reveries, hopes came out flooding through her eyes. Heartbroken, at last she kept her phone away and pulled on the quilt to cover herself up; a meek attempt at mentally saving herself of the embarrassment. Her body curled instinctively beneath it as she felt exceptionally cold…and then an afterthought –

Maybe her birthday was not meant to be on a Saturday, maybe it pained more coz it was on a Saturday.

A Soul's Twin Sides

One person - One kind of behavior. That's how it is supposed to be. A person has to react, behave, conduct himself in a certain way; it is a fundamental rule of nature but then how do you deal with split personalities?

With two stark sides within, I feel a defaulter at nature's rule of having single personality in a single body. Quite obviously it is never pleasing or comforting to know that you are different from the normal set of people; that you are slightly abnormal at normal things and so is the case with me too. It is embarrassing, annoying, irritating, disturbing, saddening and more - being absolutely unpredictable and unreasonable at the pettiest of things while taking major issues nonchalantly with a pinch of salt.

At times I wonder if people around me or associated with me in anyway are asked for a brief description of mine, there'll definitely be two stark character sketches at disposal. For on one hand I am identified as an  extrovert who is a motor-mouth, talks non-stop about random things, laughs loud, finds fun in the most serious circumstances, gets along with almost everyone, told to be a happy-go-lucky person who apparently lights up the surrounding environment to the extent of being titled as - Little Miss Sunshine.

That's one side. And then there's a flip side to this popular perception.

The side which is highly vulnerable, where everything happens to be at extreme - joys, sorrows, love, jealousy, possessiveness..everything. That's the side which doesn't like to talk at all, is under-confident about striking a dialogue or taking up things upfront, the side which avoids people deliberately for the sheer fear of being judged by them; thus, being inaccessible to most of the people around.

Basically there's one self which is supremely confident and optimistic about  everything in life and then there's one self which is extremely vulnerable and pessimist about every single thing under the sun. 

And so what happens when such polar sides exist in the same frame? One tends to flash these sides on and off as a part of the routine life. How? Well, one talks, talks, talks, talks at one hour and then without any reason falls silent for the rest of the day. One goes crazy partying, boozing, fooling around with people and then feels uncomfortable and difficult to the core to pick up their simple phone calls. One pours ones heart out to a person one day minus any nudging and then feels disgusted at self for letting all the secrets out without any rhyme or reason. That's what happens when you have split personalities, and when does it become most awful? It is when people who happen to know you in and out with a chance of getting a glimpse of both sides of your soul tell you that you are 'abnormal'. When they spell it out for you that you are 'not-so-likingly' different from 'normal' people. That's when it hits real bad because it is never a deliberate effort to behave 'abnormally', neither anyone takes pride in being identified as an eccentric case but then if one is, so to say, naturally booted with a split personality, how is one supposed to behave unlike it!

So for all the normal janta I just wanted to put it on record -

I am a person with a soul which has twin sides, if you can't deal with it that's not my problem. Sorry to put your opinions about me at bay but, I think I am absolutely normal in an abnormal way.

The Cycle of Deeds

Life comes a full circle and how! What you do, does come back to you, especially the wrongdoings. Guess this 'Karma' thing is not just a make-believe term, it actually does exist, in its truest form. Either that or there's some weird rule of this world that you would be sharing the shoes of people connected to you at some point in time..why? Well, just for the heck of feeling how it feels to be stuck in a certain situation that you put them in sometime..that's when the dormant guilt of wrongdoing catches up like never before..and then when you look back for forgiveness all that you receive is a mocking expression as if saying - 'this-is-how-it-feels';'this-was-how-I-felt';'it-feels-THIS-bad!'

Though isn't it just human to take a stand..to make a choice..to take a decision that might be against the other person, no matter how clean your intentions are? The task of refining your own conscience at the cost of others' emotions (knowingly) at times becomes indispensable..one just cant escape it..you take the decision, make the choice but then after a period of time, one fine day you find yourself standing in that person's shoes with somebody else playing your part..returning every bit of what you gave to that person; in similar fashion.

Its a vicious cycle..circumstances change, characters change but the core remains the same - You get what you give.

Monotony Scribbled

I get to my active senses with the morning alarm on phone, sharp at 6:30 a.m....hands fidget to get hold of that mean gadget and swipe it to snooze off only to be buzzed again at 7:00 a.m....the alarm does solves its purpose this time; I get up and sit for a while on bed - closed eyes - blank state...Ears pick up Ramdev baba's wise words on yoga asans from the television in the other room...If not paying attention to her favorite show, mom is seen moving around purposely doing morning chores...I take in all, get up and make an effort to get ready to start yet another day...by 7:45 a.m. I am all set for office...7:50 a.m. phone rings for a missed call; indication that the cab is well outside my place...I gather my stuff, check for anything missing and rush out of the home...after an hour long drive, some good-bad music, plain silences/chit-chat, 8:55 a.m. I am dropped at office...its always a snail pace to enter office...unenthusiastic, uninterested, mechanical...I punch in my I-card at the attendance machine - 9:00 a.m. - Sanchi Kala - Accepted...there starts a grilling day...work load, deadlines, meetings, differences, cribbing, ranting, assessing, processing, sweet talk, hate talk, gossips, opinions......6:25 p.m. phone rings for a missed call again; indication that the cab is waiting outside my office...I gather my stuff, check for anything missing and rush out of the office...I punch in my I-card again at the attendance machine - 6:30 p.m. - Sanchi Kala - Accepted....after an hour long drive, some good-bad music, plain silences / no chit-chat this time, 7:50 p.m. I am dropped at home...I am welcomed by my elder sister at this hour warmly/coldly - depends on her mood; it is very unpredictable...Mom can be heard chanting an aarti in the kitchen, I pop in to get a glimpse of hers, everytime, to catch this moment...it is comforting to see her ensured presence after a grueling day...by the time I freshen up, she's ready with tea, refreshments and her 12-hour day updates...she talks and I hear but not listen...I scroll through the channels, Rahul Kanwal / Arnab Goswami / Some reality show - the general halt points...10:00 p.m. am eating and watching television, surfing FB, scrolling through phone, mindlessly...11:00 p.m. am still watching television, surfing FB, scrolling through phone, mindlessly...11:30 p.m. eyes start drooping...I get up to check my wooden wardrobe, look at the pile of clothes, pick up a set that is closest to hand, iron it for next day and go back to bed...12:00 a.m.

A day lived; A day wasted.

French Window

The mirror reflected an unpleasant sight...she herself couldn't take it in for long...those burn marks and scars could make anyone look away from her face. It was not his fault. She felt guilty for blaming it on him...nobody could in all physicality 'love' that sight; her appearance.

She sat on the French window sill...looking at the landscaped open spaces ahead. Memories started rewinding...what a day it was when they bought their dream home and moved in...after all that incessant planning, exploring, saving every penny, they were finally able to book this house and then own it...this French window, how can she forget the argument that they had, to get it done...she had to keep ranting about her wish and reason it with him to use that space for window and not for his customized bookshelf. He was annoyed yet gave in with a smile...ever since, so much they had shared on this window sill..talked away those breezy summer nights, cuddled up in winters...those coffee and music sessions while enjoying rain...how can she forget...but she does remember it all...and he ought to remember it too....if only he remembers it...

Curtains moved..she turned around to see who it was..he walked in with a glass of water in his hand...she tried to welcome him with her half, painful smile but he didn't seem to notice...may be she didn't really seem like smiling...or else he would have acknowledged it..he always did...prior to that accident. 

He gave her the glass of water..she moved a bit to make space for him to sit as well..he didn't seem to notice that too..he kept standing, handed her the pills and waited till she had them all...she looked at him, he looked at her hands holding those tablets..was it really so difficult to even glance at the person whom he so passionately loved only until a few months back? She without a word, took her tablets...he took the glass from her hands and went....She kept staring his back from that French window...

...he was gone and she was left there sitting at the window sill alone, with just some extra space...