LOST

Death is a strange feeling. It doesn't strike till the time you see somebody close to you suffering. I am witnessing deaths. I am witnessing sufferings. It could have happened to me. It could have happened to one of my close one.

The existence of a person is destroyed, rather vanishes from the world. The sound that you long to hear fades out completely. The face you always find smiling becomes blank ; is disillusioned. A photograph of him/her for once looks full of life. Finally all buries in dust; all buried in ashes.

With the person, the circle around him also becomes 180 degree. Links of the chains break. Everything is lost. The emotions have scattered. Love, hate, depression, frustration are all mere words after death.

It is written and preached that a dead being loses the body, not the soul. But the soul becomes 'soul-less'. It is remembered momentarily in ceremonies and memorials and then forgotten. There is another mishap and new flesh, new bodies, new souls emerge. This is the cycle of life; this is the chain that links us.

Humans are killers of humans. Humans are cannibals. They are murderers of themselves. They are lost in the web of times. They are lost in their own life. They are lost and dead in their souls.

Rock Paper Scissors Situation VII

Rock
Going through complete metamorphosis. Both positive and negative.

Paper
Wasted. Thrown in the bin.

Scissors
Sharpened like a blade to cut the rough edges.

Changing Moods

6 months backs I had written this in one of my posts:

"When I move out of the hostel, I know there would be some prototypes that I would come across. Just like the kid playing with his ball and the autowallahs waiting to get a customer and ask for lumpsome travelling charges. Then as I walk further and reach the busy streets, I am used to see the lady at 'Rasoi' dhaba serving hot parathas to the home food deprived hoggers, the two friends sitting in the roadside restaurant in their usual corner seat and having gupshup over snacks and not to forget the 'once upon a time' fauji who is now a lunatic swaggering with his typical army air in his style and the guy with everything Indianised and an intriguing panache walking alone in the road with no care and worries on his shoulders."


And today I see-

The kid who played with the ball sits in a grocery shop attending customers, the autowallahs are the same. The lady at 'Rasoi' is the only constant factor who still serves hot paranthas to the starvers. The two chairs in the roadside restaurant is usually empty. I don't know why the two friends don't sit there anymore. Are they left with no 'gupshup'?
The once upon a time Fauji lunatic does not swagger. He sits on the corner of the road like a beggar and reads the newspaper as if he has lost that army ego. The guy with everything indianised is no more intriguing to me. I know him now and he is no more a random acquaintance.


Times are changing. And so am I.

What's Stopping Me?

What's stopping me?
The sun, the moon, the stars

What's stopping me?
Parents, relatives, friends

What's stopping me?
Fear, depression, anger

What's stopping me?
Me, you, them

What's stopping me?
Love, hate, betrayal

What's stopping me?
I never know

Wandering Part VII

Is there anything called love? Why is it so that no one can be trusted? There must be ethics...There must be rules...But who comes up with them? How can so much of negativity exists at the same time? Why is it so difficult to keep a promise? Why is it difficult to be committed to the one you love?

Who has the answers?


I see things around me and wander.

5 years to Silver Jubilee...

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.

- Anjum Hassan

I was supposed to write this post 17 days back, but then thinking about the last twenty years of my life indeed takes a lot of tim. If I rewind the days gone by, there have been as usual some good ones and some bad one. Life has been a roller coaster ride with each day bringing some or the other kind of surprise. Came across so many people; some as acquaintances, very few as good friends.

The bestseller called Life is coming up with further sequel. The character Riya was more of a student learning from her mistakes than a teacher teaching others and giving gyaan. She wishes to be the same in the other sequels too. But in the latest book, she is more confident, focussed and has understood the eccentricities of the world.

The next five years would be like the government's first five years plans, with loads of resolutions and priority areas but don't know what the future has in store for me. How much I will be able to abide by them.

Till then, the next 5 years will see more of soul searching....not to forget, indulging more into my art and culture mania...JNU....falling for weird people...cribbing...bitching...observing...being patient...reading...lost in my own world and wandering.

कैसे भूले

At home. Down with fever. Have nothing to do.Suddenly college memories creep in.The first day of college. Meeting new people. Trying to connect with them. Making friends. But the strongest memories that I will have would never exist without my best friends- Tuhina, Kannagi and Prerna. So here is a poem dedicated to them. Thanks for always being there for me. Love you guys.

याद है वह पहला दिन
हम मिले जिज्ञासु भरे आंखों से
एक दूजे का परिचय देते हुए ।

कैसे भूल सकती हूँ
वो दिन
दोस्ती के कटघरे पर खड़ा करके
मेल-जोल की कोशिश करते रहे ।

कैसे भूल पायेंगे
वो रात
घंटो भर लोगो की खिल्ली उड़ाई
भूख लगते ही दूसरो के दरवाजे खट खटाई ।

कभी न भूल पाएंगे
वो एहसास
जब एक, गालों को मोड़कर बोली-
'अरे मेरी मोटी। तुम बहुत बोलने लगी हो । '

यह तो भूलना मुश्किल है
वो अन्तिम दिन
दूसरी, दौड़कर आते, कसके गले लगकर बोली-
'चक्रो! मुझे छुट्टी मिल गई । '

वो दिन भी महत्त्वपूर्ण रहेंगे
जब परीक्षा के पहले
तीसरी के साथ सीड़ियों में बैठे
गानों पर सिर हिलाते थे ।

भूलें से भी न भूलेंगे
वो दिन
जब हम बहुत झगड़ा करते
और ठीक हो जाने पर रोते हुए गले लग जाते ।

कैसे भूलेंगे यह पल
कैसे लौटेंगे वो दिन
बस यही दुआ करते है मित्र
कि यह दोस्ती हमारी बरक़रार रहे ॥

I am a Writer, not a Journalist

The four weeks of my on-the-job training dawned a realisation in me. The realisation that I am not a journalist but a writer trying to be a journalist. The reasons-

• A journalist writes to sell, a writer writes to express.

• A journalist writes for people, a writer writes for herself/himself.

• A journalist does not have the freedom to write anything and everything. A writer has the creative freedom to write anything.

• A journalist writes what is acceptable, a writer does not care about the acceptability quotient.

• A journalist needs facts, a writer needs inspiration.

• A journalist has to think to write, a writer's account is free flowing.

• A journalist tries to find a 'peg' in everything. A writer just observes.

Hence, I am a writer, not a journalist.

Wandering Part VI

"Where is the might of the pen lost? Wasn't it supposed to be mightier than the sword? Then why has it been replaced by a plastic board of chips, circuits and blocks? Will it be able to fight the same battles as the long stick? The smoothness of the paper has also taken shape into a harsh screen called the monitor which cannot be made ugly by the scribbles of the pen. My handwriting does not define me anymore (as I don't WRITE but TYPE)

Technology really changes the world....

And adds to the nostalgia. "


I type this post and wander.

A Day in my Life

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.

Wandering Part V

"Why is happiness coupled with sorrow, achievement with failure, love with hatred, peace with violence?

Ma says- 'It's all balancing beta.'

Is it? "

I listen to music and wander.

Life and Death...

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.

Life and Death...It is such a complicated mess...

Rock Paper Scissors...Situation VI

Rock

Coming to terms with age old addictions and the numbness shown by its support elements...

Paper

Realising its weaknesses and trying to erase it...

Scissors

Giving no clues on the next surface its going to cut...

Letter from a daughter to her father...

Dear Dad,
Whenever I was low or cribbed about the little things around me, you often told me about the big bad world. The BIG BAD WORLD which I would be a part of, when I will be old enough to deal with it. The big bad world which was inescapable; which I was always scared of and tried to avoid it. But today I have realized that I have finally succumbed to this hell.

This world is worst than you had explained me. Here people have to be judged before lending a hand for friendship, justifications are to be given for falling in love and one has to prove itself in each and every sphere of situations. Here perceptions are not accepted, rather they are judged.Competitions are a significant part of this world. "Honesty is the best policy" does not hold anymore. Honesty has taken many forms; it is manipulative. Morality is questioned now and then. Standing for one's right is bravery, a rebellion whereas fighting the inner battle is self-obsession, introversion. In this world, some people have all the power to ruin other's lives. Being yourself is being rude while showing fake kindness is being the most nicest person on earth. If somebody sympathisizes at one's problem, they are meant to be his/her true friends while criticizing and pointing someone's negatives are meant to be their foes. Its a world where one's dressing and gestures defines an individual's sexual orientation and the thin line between the orientations is blurred.

Dad, I am still not ready for this world. I have been running away from it but at the same time wanted to be a part of it (you know my intriguing nature). But I promise I will find my way through this maze. I will overcome this hell. You will be proud of me and pat my back. Just pray to give me the strength to fight it.

Your
Ranibeti

Wandering Part IV

"People are like inns in a highway where you take rest for sometime and then go on your own way. At times some inns provide bad service and you feel uncomfortable. Those are the ones who hurt you in life. Who not even for sometime make you happy. Forget them!! We humans are born to grow up with time. There are two sides to a coin. So take the best lesson from it and drain the rest. Thats what we are here for."

I wander while waiting for a friend in some corner of the college...

Happenings

Why this happens to me
I never know
Trying to find the reasons
But they never show.

At times,
Rain is happiness
At times, it is sorrow
At times, things go fine
At times, just bad

Feelings take a different turn
Thoughts just don't seem to stop
Perceptions change with time
Visions grow whenever
Aspirations are high

Why this happens to me
I never know
Trying to find the reasons
But they never show.

Wandering Part III

We don't need to worry about things around us. Let them occur the way it is supposed to be. Why would they influence our lives? Its our life and nobody has the right to influence it except oneself.

I gaze at the revolving fan and wander...

Wandering Part II

"The difference between people living in big cities and small towns is that the people in former setting have no time for themselves. They are busy thinking about what others think about them and how can they face the competition in all spheres of life. On the other hand, people from smaller cities have time for themselves. They think about their dreams, ambitions and what THEY want to do irrespective of what others think. Strange but true."

I observe and I wander...

A Thought

I am disturbed by a thought
A thought that has no base
A thought that has no bounds
A thought
That the mind cannot get rid of

Its a thought
That has led to many thoughts
I try to erase it
I try to divert it

The thought taunts me
Makes fun of my failure
To overcome it

It haunts me
Deprives me of my happiness
I am disturbed by the thought
Save me from it

Dear thought,
What have I done to you?
Why are you after me
Leave me alone
Don't overshadow my musings
I want to live
I want to breathe


But
The thought still kills me
Keeps me hollow from inside
Takes me away from emotions

Please help me,
I am disturbed by a thought
A thought that has no base
A thought that has no bounds.

Wanderings...

Often I have random thoughts which makes me see life in a different light. These are realizations which doom me...makes me wander more...makes me understand the implications of life...

So here I wander-

"I hate nostalgia. It is the proof that there are so many beautiful moments that someone's missing. How we are slaves to time. It passes so fast that it is so difficult to catch up on it. It is like sand in the hand which slips however you want to hold it."