An assignment

I am going to through a writing course, because I needed to pick a hobby. As part of the course, I need to write an assignment about the most painful thing I felt in my life. I have 7 minutes to pour this out, and I could be brave. I have always been brave, or actually hiding because nobody is reading.

So, here it goes, my time starts now :

***

No, it wasnt love, or isolation, that hurt me the most. It was my own failure to give it all in my academics. A trait I cannot keep up with. It was during my teenager days and the final score of an exam, that affected me the most. I scored low among all the friends, and knew I wouldnt be in the best of colleges. And the most painful feeling in the situation was guilt.

I was given every opportunity by my parents to excel in academics. I was given internet at 15, coaching classes, incredible brilliant friends, yet I failed them all. I failed my parents. And it made me so guilty. I cried for an entire week to myself, I cried throughout the night that God could somehow change my scores. It felt like I was always in the limelight, and suddenly someone turned off the switch. I was there, stranded alone, and when I looked further at the audience, everyone stared back. My mother felt so disappointed that she didnt confront me. She wasnt angry . She was quiet. That quietness deafened me. I could hear my own voice in my head, and I am my most best-worst critic. It was my voice telling me that I failed for life. I wasnt going to a good college. I felt , and still feel I dont deserve the single opportunity given to me. All those I was privileged with should have gone to someone else who needed it most. He could have done things much better. It was my first big time failure. It crashed my confidence that I never gained back. It scares me to death of all the consequences that followed. Even today, when I write a simple certificate exam, the 17 year old me wakes up within. She is constantly telling me I am going fail in whatever I do. She is creeping all over my body, and no one understand this when I tell them. I am still ashamed that I disappointed everyone around me.

I am reminded of this again today, and it is the same guilt saddening feeling inside.

I wish I cold vomit these emotions.

And flush it down somewhere.

***

And I am done :)

Back in randomness

I forgot why I used to write. I dont know where the motivation came from, who read it or what some of my posts even meant. I tried to remember. I vividly understand the surge in heartbeat when I wrote an article. Those non flickering anticipation that each word gave.

What happened to old me ?

What happened to my happiness?

I just saw that the blog was more than a decade old. This means, there are pages of desperation, inspiration and flow of emotions for 10 long years. My each writing would reflect my mood of the day.

Where did my power to dream go? Why am I accepting everything on way now?

Currently, I am a wreck. I am not happy, grateful or sincere. I am lost, devastated and nothing is clear to me. Things I believed in are now forgotten. I live in delusion of black tar. I am suffocating in it, and I cant see.

Would you believe if I told you I have been questioning everyone's happiness?

What makes people happy ?

I dont know. I dont know as much as I dont know what to do with myself. I am too egoistic to delve deeper, and ask the right questions. And I am too proud to talk to anyone.

That was when I realized why I wrote.

Was it my heart speaking?

It has always been easier to write. Like in a diary. I could have never been able to win a speech , but I could write. I have always been able to explain pain as much as I could experience it. It was easier, like breathing.

I am sure it didnt make sense to lot of people, but to me, it did. I knew what I was going through with each sentence.

Maybe, I should write more. Only my sister has been pushing me to write more. I should do it.

I never believed in my writing. It was just a farce. A joke.

But now, to save myself, I need to write. And believe in it.

Dust

Embracing the cold flaked winds, winged I fly away,

Embalmed hidden corners pretty, I don’t even sway.

Innumerable count of I in number,

Men at aisle see no control and murmur.

In solitary pleasure when I dwell,

Hostile eyes search for me till they swell.

Present in fragment fragrance that you smell,

Sudden drip of unconcerned heights, I rather fell.

Lying on Ashes on man burnt to death,

Cruel handshakes with the rumble and dearth.

Seizing inches of itch on your skin,

Drooling places where you have never been.

Mugged into any of the desired forms,

 Wander away in excess to break all norms.

Walk into lanes where there is no path,

More you kick, I shall rise in wrath.

Delve deeper into the thicker grounds,

Apex, fragile over the mountains.

Bother not what I consist of,

Wish not what makes me tough.

Stirred into flow of lucid waters,

Wrecked with earthworms that no one bothers.

In all will you shall try, I cannot be crushed,

Fast, steady, however, you seem rushed.

Dear men, you think I am yet another lie,

Truth be told, let me enter your eye.

Writing ?

How much can a writing take you?

Can it change something that exists or begin anything new?

What is the use of writing, if it can be erased, torn or burnt?

I always could write better, than I could speak. I am just saying in relative terms, not comparing myself to anyone else. But, when I speak, I feel I am a no opinion and spineless woman. This is not how I feel when I write. 

Is it because that not too many people write, but speak better? It could be that when writing, we think slower than when we speak. 

How many writing has made you better? 

How much of it has it saved the world ?

Don’t actions speak louder than words ; even if they are in black and white ? Did we bring about reforms in society using paper as a medium ? I have seen weapons of mass destruction and actions of human acts, but nothing on paper that changed us.

I don't even remember my parents teaching me life by putting things in writing. We all learnt on the go by seeing people act accordingly. Then, why are we insisting people to read more often?

Are we misinformed that pen is mightier than sword ? How has it been ?

I am beginning to feel writing will lose its form , and we all need to spring to action. But I am not sure, because I know nothing else than to write. The words on stronger on paper than from my mouth.

(Insert a lot of curse words)

I was never aware that I was capable of spewing this much hate. And yes, now that I know and see the diminutive atom like fireballs spurting from my every part of the body, I think I should do something about it. I am not happy. “About what ?”, you may ask. But this 1:100, brain vs body ratio doesn’t know. I have lost the strength to believe that something good is going to happen; but the only good thing that was happening was that the anger never subsided and I feel the same hate towards everything and everyone.

If you are in super positive frame of mind, I warn you to not read further. This is going to change all that and drag you to my frame, which isn’t good in any way. But, if you are feeling that everything has been unfair to you, I trust you with a company.

I was swimming in wrath that I had to vent it because I couldn’t kill anyone on sight. First thing I did was to drive my vehicle fast. No, not rash. I don’t know if I was because I wasn’t thinking. But I was definitely going at an admirable speed. A grandfather in TVS Champ scorned at me and it felt momentarily good. I wasn’t going to get the anger out of me. I stopped for no one, cared for no one. Then, I tried to imagine something good and that was when my alter ego grew immensely. By the way, she is Kwarkshi, a mix of Evil Father and Angel mother. For obvious reasons, she is very good for a while, very evil other times. This was the exact feeling I was having and more than evil. I let her curse people in my mind till I smiled a lot outside. It worked a bit, but I was running out of imaginations.

As soon as I reached home, I drank one liter carton juice in a single gulp. I just wanted to make sure that I wasn’t angry because I was hungry. Yeah, its happens. Sometimes.

I let the juice hit my stomach floor and checked my flare temperature. It didn’t come down and I concluded that my irritation was, indeed, genuine. I quickly did a research on the net for bringing down my volcanic eruptions.

Count from 100..till 1. Oh ! Yeah right!

Think of beautiful things. *Double* Yeah right!

Do yoga. Wait. Is this even a solution ? Move every muscle in your body to make you calm ? Touch your feet with your fingers? Isn’t there an organ called stomach in between the two ? And doesn’t it bulge?

I slammed my laptop close, opened it again quickly, to see for damages. It was my office laptop. I just had to be sure.

Thoughts flowed in my head, everything mad, negative and irritating. Every incident, word spoken. I felt betrayed, cheated and sad for myself. It was my mistake that I entered to the comfort zone and it was way too comfortable to make a move. I bottled up all this anger and stood silent.

What should I do ?

What can I do ?

That is when I realized I should harness all this anger and do something about it. First thing I did was write this article. No, it honestly has not made me feel better. I actually think I have written something utter nonsense and drowning in shamelessness. But, this is better than bottling it up inside and not doing anything about it.

So, I am going to be let this bulk-hulk mode on. Focus it all on something totally different and shoot it. Maybe it will turn sour; or for once, it will be for good. I am going to go there. And get it!

FTW!

 P.S., If you think this instilled anger in you, I believe you should share.

P.S., I kept it short. No, I wasn't hungry. Promise.

The insignificant me

Some are creating records. Others are making double histories. And Most of them are half my age.

She won the Tennis Doubles again, Boy Band’s song is in the top of the charts consecutively for the fifth week, he fought the soldiers all by himself, they signed a pact and the stories alike. The insignificant-me can do nothing but ponder over what to write.

In 6 billion, how much do I matter?

To whom do I matter?

Why am I not a celebrity?

Why I am not talked about?

All these questions run behind my head while I wait at the cobbler’s place. His workplace is a tiny steel box to fit him and ten pairs of footwear that he had stitched together.

“How much ?”, I ask him with thoughts still lingering somewhere subconsciously

I don’t know what he said but I handed over a lot more than he asked for. I didn’t take the change and left the place with just a nod. I remember him trying to smile through his infected mouth and say thanks. But, I wasn’t in the right mind to take his gratefulness.

Am I not just another person going to work, making a livelihood so that I can eat my next meal in peace?

Wouldn’t I been able to something for others if I had more money or power?

I was doing a self-analysis in the middle of the road as if the pollution would spray answers into me when a mother, with a little child mounted on her scooter, tried to push her vehicle around mine. I just looked at her, pushed my vehicle behind and let her pass ahead of me. I remember the relief on her face and she explaining that the child was late to school. But, I wasn’t in the right mind to take her thankfulness.

The flickering orange light in my vehicle indicated that there was no petrol and this distracted me a bit. But, as soon as I saw a poster of a famous car racer above the bunk, I was back into my own world of self-destruction. I told the puny man over the machine for a tank full and he shot some instructions like zero which hit off my head. Suddenly, I was woken by loud honking by a huge white van, like it was the last day for all of us. I realized there was a coil of green pipes in front of the vehicle which my puny man was trying to push with his Popeye muscles. Being larger than him, with no second thoughts, I helped him and brought peace to the Petrol Bunk. He whispered something under his heavy breathe and folded his hands. But, I wasn’t in the right mind to take his drama.

Wouldn’t people look up to me if I was famous ?

Why was I not talented at all ?

Again, I was stopped on the road not by the lights but by the white shirt traffic police. He was signing hand signals to other side and put us on hold for the time being. He was glancing over my side. It had to be one of this; either I was so attractive that someone noticed me in the crowd or I was doing something terribly wrong. In split moments, I realized he was actually looking for his associate who was seated on the pavement with hand on his head.

“Are you ok?” he shouted at his associate.

“No, I have a terrible headache”, his associated shouted back.

As a spectator, I watched this like a movie on a screen while realizing I have a good stock of analgesic that I was addicted to. I pulled my bag, pulled out a strip and handed it over to him. He looked at me like I was offering an atom bomb. After full 20 seconds of blank straight stare, he blinked and accepted my atom bomb.  The white shirt traffic police signaled us to leave and I was on my way again.

It wasn’t until I reached my cubicle and opened my mails; I became completely aware of the surrounding. There were multiple mails from customers asking for lot of work to be done for the day. It made me feel that I was more important at my workplace and there were people reaching out to me.

 

When I resorted to solve my clients’ issues, I felt a lot more significant than the usual. At all other times, whose life is this insignificant-me making it easy anyway?

Break the ice, fire and whatever

The clothing was more than necessary to keep her warm but she felt cold. There was linger of her perfume in his jacket and all she could feel were the goose bumps clearly appearing at every single drift of the vehicle. She put her hands into his pockets and his helmet turned as a reaction to it. She knew he was grinning inside. She wished that the whole world ceased to end at that very moment.

The above passage is the most romantic set of lines I could have ever come up with. Not that I have been trying to prove my caliber in romances but I had to break all barriers in the clogged head to come up with something. I am thoroughly lost in most parts of my life. And times when I am not, I have coffee and vada pavs to think about. Yes, pavs in plural form.

I had my birthday last month and am sure that I have not grown any wiser apart from few strands of white hair appearing. I do fear wrinkles appearing now and then and if I had to replenish every Vaseline cream stocks with Pond's ageing cream. But my pride doesn't agree that I am getting older uselessly. So, I had to come with a list of things that past year left me with.

Here it is, if it makes sense:

1. You need not have an opinion on every subject. Certain validations can be done only in situations and in other person’s shoes. It is fine to acknowledge and not accumulate it in your head. You need not counter argue every statement you dislike. Silence, some times , can be the best answer.

2. Being unmarried in late twenties is a crime. Be expected to be bombarded with suggestions and advices on all things related to the holy matrimony. This has been the reason that I never check my Facebook account at home. My page has to be declared in the Limca book of records for holding together hundreds of continuous marriage album in one stretch.  If not adorned, then there would be all honeymoon photos causing more heat in the layers of stomach (read ‘stomach burn’). I could send a missile to every country on the map. I just realized that this was the longest point in the entire post.

3. Terribly Tiny Tales page in Facebook is simply awesome.

4. How one gets closer to room mates, yet manages to keep a distance. I am sure this is the best kind of relationship I have ever experienced.  And I am pretty sure my roomies would never read this.

5. If one practices going to movies alone might find company a little strange and will begin to make assumptions even before the movie begins. On the contradictory, watching a movie alone frees one’s mind of any preconceived notions. The nachos and cheese dip at PVR are the best.

6. Money is very important. Especially, if you live in Bangalore and the last week of the month appears.

7. You can go to the same restaurant as many times as possible and order the same dish over and over again just because your friend loves it.

8. Birthday gifts are clear investments. You give what they want and ask what you want.

9. Becoming fat or thin is never in your hands. You are the unrecognized and misunderstood Indian Christian Bale.

10. All my travelling in the last year consisted only of wedding attendances.

11. I have clearly stopped writing and still finding a good excuse to lie to myself.

12. You are still not old to stop experimenting. Experiment with hair colours, clothes, lifestyle , outdoor events. Be it anything.

This is all I could come up with 40 watts bulb over the head and mosquitoes under the table. The year passed faster than what my minuscule brain could get it. I am clearly hoping for a more adventurous year ahead. Even more to a better writing.