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Category: Rhetoric

Dated!

Living thru dates, with dates, by dates, is a difficult task. And by dates, I am not talking about the fruit, dates. Nor am I talking about the dates people ‘go out’ on. Oh good lord! How many definitions do dates hold already! As if it is not enough, we have this-day, that-day, not-this-day and on and on, celebrating all kinda dates. And ofcourse those fancy dates. 01-01-01, 02-02-02…..12-12-12. Thank god its over by 2012! And as if none of these are enough, I have my fancy associations to dates! The day I first I joined this school. The day I met that person. The day I left this place. The day I last met some person. The day I first had some experience. The day with this and that and too many such stupid associations. Its funny how I remember so many birthdays that I don’t even want to make a wish on, too many anniversaries I don’t even care to be bothered about, too many days with no relevance to me as a person, still etched in my memory. Like, not even a brain damage could actually wipe them away. Every morning, getting up and actually waking into my senses, the first involuntary thing is to register the date in my memory, and then search for a matching item that corresponds to the date. And each day, has associations. Pleasant, unpleasant, moderate, and I-dont-give-a-fuck kinda dates. And as I pass by each such date, the one thing I so wish, atleast by next year this day, let me forget its stupid cooked relevance in my brain. I don’t want to remember so many pointless stuff. And today is one such day. A date I am trying to forget. Not coz its unpleasant. But coz its irrelevant in the life I currently live. An anniversary I choose to forget, but still reminded all the more, as I am the only one even thinking about it, even at this hour, as the day closes down.¬†Ridiculous dates! Etched down the memory lane!

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Liberation!

I sense liberation. I know what being liberated means. Or so I believe. I am counting my days. Into liberty. And out of it. It’s like I am in some cycle, running through different stages of liberation. One moment, I feel on top of the world, having ultimate control over everything in my life. Its that moment where I care enough to look around and acknowledge the infinite wonders around me, and find myself dignified. And the next moment, I feel chained. An invisible leash around me, and hardly can I move. It’s like I am tied to a pole, and the radius is all I have to myself. It’s really stupid to shuttle between all these emotions, and still not choose one. Like I am not yet free to decide where I want the rest of my life to be. Ah come on! What liberation was I talking about then!

This is a real trivial transition. From college to home. And I already feel choked. I can’t wait to go back out there and start breathing. And be liberated. Return my wings to me, my old wing workshop! I so much want them, to soar into the infinite world! Broken leash, and a waking dream, herald my indomitable spirit. To fly higher, fall deeper, talk louder, hear clearer, live liberated!

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Killing the unborn!

I don’t know if she even existed. Like, I don’t even know if she were born. But I’d just love to see her dead. Rather, with my own hands, strangle her to death. She who personifies all that I am not. She who desires all that I dont. She who destroys all that I would never. She who creates all that I couldn’t ever. She who wants to stop me from writing this. She who puts a leash on me being me. She who claims to be a twin of my soul. She who disrupts my life. She who destabilizes my hold on life. She who kicks in when no one’s around, and makes me unreasonable. She who wouldn’t just let go of me until I sneeze her away. She who hunts me down, day in and day out. She who scares me. She who I despise to be with. She who I hates to have known. She who wrecks my inner peace.

“Hey, its high time we broke up. I am so tired of you hanging on to my neck. You want a parasite? Go find someone else. I am so done with you. Just so you know, you’ve done enough. To wreck me and my life.” “I am sorry but I didn’t know. Like , I always thought you liked things this way. Weren’t we perfect this way? Life was getting much..” “Duh! Look at who’s talking about life. What do you know about life? When have you gotten outta your little fantasy world, to even acknowledge there’s a real world and life going on out here!” I tell you I am breaking up with you. But you know what’s it I am gonna really do? I am gonna kill you. Finish you off and wipe you off the surface this world. I wanna wash my sins away in your blood. May be you’re a total piece of crap. But your intangible blood has such marvelous charm. You won’t see another sun rise. Go to a calm and peaceful sleep tonight, and you’ll never wake up from that eternal peace.

P.S. Lately, I have been contemplating metamorphosis. And this is how I see it in me. Went through some past autographs from school. And the one constant line, in every page, even the ones written by people who don’t know eachother, matched so perfect and identical. They all said just one thing. ‘Never change from what you’re. Your attitude stands unique.’ However fancy may that sound, do people really do this copy-cat thing in autographs as they do in tests? Or is it that they all planned on making a fool outta me, by writing out the same thing to freak me out? Or is it actually that, they all thought the exact same about me? Oh mother of god! Where the fuck is that attitude of mine then! (The one that I too loved! Where am I!)

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Futile!

Do I call my life futile? Do you call your life futile? From what I know, only the dead have the right to call futility upon their lives. Its only in the afterlife that you can pass an actual judgement about life, its usefullness, pointlessness, effectiveness, purpose, lack of it, and all about its futility. Till the last moment, till the last miniscule of effort you put into life, everything has a chance to be useful or productive or helpful or whatever to someone, atleast some random person, in this huge world. May be, now is not the time. May be, now is not when you’re useful. May be, now is not when you’re looking out for me. May be, now is not when I am the most wanted in your life. But may be, there might be a day, when all that someone wants in their lives, will be given away by you. You the single entity, which at some earlier point of the same life, may have been regarded unnecessary. Its not about you or me or someone else. Its time. And comfort. And needs. And situations. That decide the wants of any person, at any given point, in the parameter scale. Not you. Not me.

The yellow glow!

She turned to his side of the bed. The spread was wrinkled and still had his warmth. She rolled over, awake the rest of the night. When did he leave? Did he say anything? She couldn’t think straight, still caught in the unfulfilling sleep. Wasn’t it obvious he’d leave anyway! But somehow, she wished otherwise. It has been a tough time thru this. And she couldn’t handle it anymore. The yellow light shimmered.

She loved the light. The yellow light. The dim flickering filament bulb. And the yellow glow. The best part, as she saw it, was that, when you shut your eyes close, the light just stays off. It doesn’t penetrate thru eyelids and poke your retina to acknowledge its presence. Unlike what the fluoroscent tubelights do to your eyes. And when you open your eyes, it still stays there, causing no difficulty to your eyes, adjusting to the brightness. The yellow light shimmered.

When was the last time she had the yellow light? Was it way back at home? The only apartment her parents rented was so dimly lit. She could recollect faint glimpses from there. Everything had a yellowish hue. The glow of the yellow light. And the yellow flame of the candles during the ‘power-cut’ hours! Again. The yellow light shimmered.
She never liked the yellow frock her parents got her. The only one they bought together. She despised the pineapple jam coz it was yellow in colour. She adjusted with the mixed fruit. She didn’t like yellow coz her aunt died of jaundice, all yellow and pale. She didn’t like the sun, coz it was yellow and hurt her eyes. She loved the moon. Is that how she turned into this night person? But at all times, she loved the yellow glow and the filament bulbs. The yellow light shimmered.

What did he wear last night? Was it a yellow shirt? And the same yellow pants? She doesn’t remember. It needn’t matter anymore coz the night is over now. The yellow sun had risen up. But it still bothers her. Did he actually wear those yellow things for her? The yellow sun disturbed. She pulled the blanket over her head and went back to the slumber. The yellow light shimmered.

The yellow sun gave up and the moon came back, welcoming the yellow glow. The bulb was turned on, once again. The yellow glow spread all over. The room had the yellow charm back. And she silently sneaked out of the blanket. He was at the door. Wasn’t he better looking than the guy from yesterday? Rather, wasn’t he the most good-looking, of all the men who stood at that door? She was mesmerised by his glow. And she let her hands open in a huge embrace to welcome him into the bed. Before he could move, she let her hands go asked him to leave. His head hung in apprehension, he turned away and walked in silence. He didn’t wear yellow. His glow wasn’t yellow. She wanted yellow. She embraced only yellow. She kissed only yellow. She could please only yellow. She loved yellow, perhaps. The yellow light shimmered.

She closed her eyes, taking on last glimpse of the yellow glow, before she drifted back to her sleep. The yellow light glowed even brighter, noticing her looking at it. What colour would be the blush of the yellow light, you may ask her. And she’d say, what you see as flickering, that one moment of fading away, is my yellow glow blushing at my gaze! The yellow glow beamed. And she slid under her cover. The yellow light shimmered. And flickered. And faded. And was putoff.

She wakes up into the new red glow. She fits back into the routine. But this time, she doesn’t filter out the non-yellow-outfit men. All are welcome. All are accepted. The room no longer glowed in yellow. The charm was lost and the glow was stolen. The yellow absence filled the room. And her soul. She hates light. She is in love with black. Her face no longer seen in the dark. The glow disapperead into the abyss. And, the red light flickered at the door. Not blushing, but annihilating. The red light doesn’t shimmer.

Through the land of windmills!

The title is what I named my feature on Nuclear Power Plants at Koodankulam! In Malayalam! I found that very amusing and beautiful. Kattadikalude naatiloode… But perhaps, that’s not how you write features for a magazine. What do I know about it anyway! Well, I am making another point here. May be its not always about what you know, but about how you express it. I am not an excellent writer nor an expert with words. But I am ardent in expressions of thoughts. In words. In speech. In action. Somehow. Thoughts are to be conveyed, shared and thought more upon. And there, I have a lot to share. My eloquence is one thing that makes me proud of myself. And only recently did I find out that, the blog is just one of the many forms of my expression, and not the ultimate of anything. There’s more talking to people, more interaction, more sharing of thoughts, more pooling of ideas, and exhaustive brain exercise! More like, I am just out of a long hibernation, and I feel revived now!

Going back to my feature, I have left that pending yet. Not that I can’t put down a few words and a liitle thought into them, and come up with the matter. But as I pointed out to myself, it’s not just about knowing but about the expression of it! Words are too few, for the infinite expressions of the multitudes of a mind’s knowledge. Waiting for my chosen few words, I think it’s worth it to give myself a break often. More than writing a lot of things, the focus is to be upon the expression of things. And to give away the best expressions of thoughts, thinking is what you need more than writing them down! Taking away a writer’s block, I am with a thinker’s pause!

Limbo!

So now, Rekha akka, I officially lost the challenege. I didn’t write yesterday. Did I forget? Or did I run out of things to write? Well, in reality, I just slept it off. Like, 24 hours are really not sufficient for anything. Lately, I have been losing a lot of time in ways I can’t even identify. And lately, I am not being myself. I am suffocated with words brewing in my mind. And blogging everyday is really not sufficient expression of it. Words are enough to express, only, time isn’t ever. Lost here, with a deluge of words in my head, I can’t explain myself.

This morning, I was shook from sleep by something and the first thought was to confirm if I had blogged yesternight before dozing off. But I hadn’t done anything more than the title “Happily ever after!”. I always wanted to write,but always had excuses to run away from the actual act of it, with trivial justifications. I was of the hope that atleast a challenge of this kind would cheer me enough. An article for a major magazine, or so I persume, is due tomorrow and I haven’t even begun with it. And for the record, the deadline was a month ago, and by some luck, I just got it extended. As if even those magazine people were keen on publishing what I might write! And, I don’t write at all. My college magazine is on the go and I haven’t done anything there either. I have an essay competition today. What miracle am I expecting to happen in that constrained one hour and thirty minutes!

I don’t want to be here, caught in limbo. I don’t want to experience this block in the flow. May be, me writing or not writing doesn’t change anything in this big world. But, there was a time when it changed a lot of things in my little world, filled with satisfaction of having expressed myself! I am waiting to be once again back there. Waiting to be kicked out of this limbo!

Being the wise one!

This is not me boasting about my wisdom. This is plainly about the ‘wise’ aura that I am proud of! I asked someone who knows about the 30 day challenge, for a topic for today’s blog. And this, the title, is what she suggested. Like so many others in this world, I often feel very wise about decision making and problem solving in other people’s lives. And unlike so many others, I find equally sensible and wise about ‘the’ moments about one’s own life too. I am confident about what I do, what I think , how I speak, why I turn away. I know it all, in my life too, as in any another person’s life! I may not be a visibly successful person, considering how promising my wisdom appears to be.

But yet, this is a feeling. That boosts confidence in me. To make another step in my life, as in others’ lives, when situations demand! I am growing beyond my tiny shell of ignorant arrogance and foolish temperaments. I can help people out, as I listen to them. I may have access to a variety of life experiences and may be growing more mature and containing enough, to most adversities that a normal person may have to sit thru. I can talk, coz I listen patient enough to assimilate and walk thru the by-pass! I suddenly feel old. Looking around for newer and sectioned experiences!!

Unwinding!

If only if I could just skip this writing or unwinding of the day! I am near a black out of my senses. Too tired. Too much pressure. Too sleepy. Exhausting but exciting days are on their go in my life. And at the end of every such day, I just wanna hit the bed and black out. I don’t wanna think about anything. Not about what happened the whole day. Not the least bit about writing. Just shut the eyelids tight and usher sleep in!

This has always been an irony in my life. As in many others’. I so much want to write. About my life at this precise moment. There’s really so much to write about. To be proud, to be happy, to be sad, to vent, to simply share. But now when life’s so eventful, I don’t have time. Not even to acknowledge the awesome turns in my life, let alone write it down. But the craving to atleast scribble something is pushing me enough to post this. Well, everybody’s life’s so and so I know there’s nothing to boast about it. But I just had to say it out anyway.

The irony still intrigues me. Almost a year before, my days still used to end up in a black out when I used to forcefully exert so much pressure on myself and push me to exhaustion. And back then, I used to support and justify my ‘not writing’, with this same very reason of the end of the day black out! Things pretty much remain the same except for that, now I don’t look out for blacking out! Writing is always at stake and so is my passion!

Maktub!

There’s this thing I always wanted so much to convey to people. Have you seen these ‘spiritual’ serials, which is shot so absurd and ridiculous? Or at least the film My Friend Ganesh 3? In the movie, there’s a scene where in a forest, a tiger is about to attack a group of rabbits or deer. And you see that Lord Ganesh himself glides over them, and saves the innocent creatures from the ferocious tiger. It got terrified and stopped abruptly, and gently escaped the scene, without even turning behind at the Lord. How fair does that seem now!!¬† The Lord himself created both the species of creatures, and both were synced to the agreement of coexistence. The tiger was simply trying to gobble its lunch! How could they probably call it wrong of it!

When all people in the world have their own list of right and wrong and circles of existence, how can there exist a god who meddles in between on his own screen play? What’s right here and who’s defining the righteousness? I often go there, and be there at that point where you find it stupid! To worry and lament about things that already happened or that are scheduled to happen! What’s the point worrying about all this, when its all written? Maktub – it’s all written! There’s nothing so fair anyway.