As the evening falls and darkness coats the day, the beauty of the night sky reveals itself. the artificial lights replaces the natural ones and I sitting in the sidewalks of the airport road near my college observe the pandemonia of the crowd and the sounds of the hornsof the speeding cars. It was a long day decorated by my usual cribbing of why I left my dream college and came to this place of shattered visions, forgetting at that moment that this is the place which has given shape to the things that I always wanted to do. The sweet tea at the tapri has been an elixir of energy after the tiring day and the book that I just read neither gave me any inspiration nor the kick to write something. But despite these dilemmas and inhalation of the strong cigarette smoke which my friend was fagging, there was a certain peace around, the sound of silence was faint but filling the blanks which the noise around had left vacant. I was trying to figure out this sound to enjoy the rhythmic nature of this peace. The wind blew the silence as if the sound was coming out of a flute. There was a slight cold wave in the air which was blowing through my dupatta, which made it fly and I experienced a sudden chill in the spine.
I was enjoying this moment. it drifted me away to a different world. I was suddenly unaware of the jokes that my friends were cracking and the lights from the moving vehicle did not blind my eyes as they were doing before. I have often momentarily distanced myself from reality and explored the alternate world that exists around me. But this time it was different. I never experienced this beautiful feeling. it was the feeling of freedom. The world had no chains around it. It had no defined boundaries. Suddenly I realised it was the beauty of independence. I was not dependent on anybody on anything. I could fly in this free world. I could explore any avenue I want. This Pandora world brought new hope to my life. Hopes of achieving new levels of happiness, detaching myself from negative vibrations, reach the zenith where I want to go. The feeling was beautiful; it was nirvana.
Freedom is serene; freedom is peace; freedom is empowerment. That day was my independence day. It was an eccentric, beautiful day in my life.
It's 11.30 in the morning. The Delhi sky still seems as if its still dawn and the weather is cold. The fish in my aquarium is dying. He is counting his last breath. My 1 day old friend is no more revolving around the aquarium like it was doing yesterday. The other fish is pushing him to play but he is not responding. I gave him food but he did not run to the surface to grab the tiny balls. His tail does not have the beautiful jet shape. It is falling. He is not swimming but floating in water as if waiting for death. Why is death so scary? My heart is beating fast. I can't lose my new friend. I am so helpless. How can someone's life cycle be so short? He has to achieve a lot before leaving this world. He has to win against the other fish who troubles him all the time, steals his food. He can't just leave being so quiet and tolerating others.
As I am wandering, the cell phone vibrates. It brings me to the present moment of noise which is coming from outside. I pick up the phone and my friend with a heavy voice exclaims-
"Riya, there is a bad news. XYZ's dad is no more."
I sit in shock staring at the dying fish. He moves a little showing a ray of life, but finally succumbs to death. I remember my friend talking about his father- how he loved travelling, about his books, how he has influenced his life. And today it's all over. Or maybe he will carry his father's legacy forward and make him immortal in his life and in the lives of the people around him.
Oh! I almost forgot. It's my friend's birthday today. I have to call her as she celebrates 21 years of her life.
Its always difficult for me to describe myself.I have mutating moods. Sometimes serious, some times funny; sometimes thoughtful, sometimes careless; mostly calm, at times irritated; some days happy, some days low.
Sometimes a writer, other times a reader.
" Books and reality and art are the same kind of thing to me."
- Vincent Van Gogh
"In the name of God, the compassionate, the Merciful
Here lies Saadat Hasan Manto and with him lie buried all the secrets and mysteries of the art of short-story writing...Under tons of earth lies, still wondering who among the two is greater short-story writer:God or He."
- His own epitaph, Saadat Hasan Manto
" A beautiful thing deteriorates; an ugly thing stays more or less the same."
- Zohra Sehgal
The search for fresh carrots, small bureaucratic victories, wandering if it's going to rain, and allowing, even if briefly, the thought of new underwear to lift your soul.
It's enough to fill the kind of book that life is too short to read.
My heart beat fast or did not beat at all;
I could not say all that I thought and thought
Till words deserted me. I loved too abstractly.
I dreaded how all there was to give was me-
Like water, this biography. I unravelled far too easily.
Then fled to selfish deserts and slept on the hard rocks.
I couldn't make what others made and broke and broke
and made, that sweet choreography. I went alone
And missed the world continually. I misread smiles
I stuttered before open arms, but times passed too fast
for dissappointments imprint on the glass of memory
I sought the future even when the blood swirled now.
I let the past decide too greedily. I kept searching out.
The window, I tried to say half-hidden by the light.
Frida Kahlo Self Portrait
"I paint self-portraits because I am so often alone, because I am the person I know best."