Category: Rhetoric

Blog-o-phobia!

~ Soumya ~ Leave a comment

Nay, I am not afraid of blogs. But people at my home are. They are worried that I am spy to netizens, leaking news from their privacy. 😛 Lately, at the end of every conversation, my dad makes it a point to add, “Daivame! Sollandamayirinthuthu. Iniyippo ithum blog-la varume.” (God! Need not have said this now. This is also gonna come up in the blog!) While my dad remarks this jokingly, my mom’s is a serious concern. She’s worried I dont know to draw the lines of discretion. She’s of the assumption that I let out my ‘secrets’ out here in public and I am so exploited by my readers! What does she know! Essentially, I am proving their fears genuine, by posting this one too. Thank god my sister aint much bothered!

A part of me seems to be affected by the same fear as well. A hesitation to write, worrying if that one unnecessary line might slip off my mouth (fingers, for that matter!). The whole idea of staying wound up in the irrelevant concern is stupid and I obviously know it. Shedding the cloak off me, I am trying to pitch up. I’d rather ruin my blog with stained words, than spoil my life in strained silence. Back again, hoping to stay.

And it’s time, they say!

~ Soumya ~ Leave a comment

How do you know if it’s time yet for something? How do you define being too late or being too early for something? I guess it’s mostly when someone else points it out to you. For instance, I didn’t think it’s time yet to write again. I didn’t notice how long it’s been since I last updated my blog. For me, it always felt complete and unfinished, at the same time. The duality was confusing, and I was dazzled by it. And hence, until someone pointed it out (threatened to write, to be precise), I didn’t realise it’s time yet, to write.

Looking around, it’s this unawareness of time and space is what makes our life. What’s the right time to think of your career goals? When should one join the gym? When is the right time to trim your stubbles? When’s time you get a full-body massage? When’s it time you get up? When are you ready to face life as you must? When’s it appropriate to talk about sex to your kid? When’s it that you jump into the middle of an argument? When do you make the right move on your love? When is it time you start saving and investing? When’s it time you go see a doc? When’s it time you perhaps stop talking? When is time for you to finally sit down and relax?

It’s too many questions to answer in a single go. A person finds answers to all these with life itself. Rather put, life is all about making the right choice of time, more than any other choice in life. Making the right decision is too easy and most of us do it all the time. And that’s where the flaw lies. All right decisions at all wrong times! Time is the parameter that we are too ignorant to notice, when that’s the only we should actually account for!

“Tenth standard already! It’s time you put him in **** coaching centre!” “24 and not married?! How irresponsible parents! It’s high time..” “It’s 6.30 and you haven’t started yet??!” Time is a simple parameter, that completes the complex equation to life. Making time itself too complex, look at how we’d probably stare at an inequation to life by itself!

And it’s time, they say. For me to shut up and hit the bed.

Keep smiling!

~ Soumya ~ 1 Comment

Now that most conversations and relationships are maintained online, and there’s more ‘CAPSLOCK’ than actual yelling, more ttyl, more brb, more dnd, more cya, more whatever. Frankly, I don’t care. I don’t care if the soul in people’s communication is absent, I don’t care if emotions are dead, or if intimacy is lost or if distance builds between people! People are talking (rather blabbering) whatsoever! That’s more than glad! If you want warmth in your relationships, closeness with people of your life, and enliven the spirits, probably one should just go for it. Put your heart to it and do it. Online or offline. It’s not the means, it’s always the place where you make upto! Just wanted to say, to all those intellectual freaks, who lecture about how technology seeped into human relationships and fucked it up. How whiny is that! You don’t even know to guard your own mind and soul, and blame it all on the mind-less soul-less technology! It’s not gonna blame you back afterall!

But certainly, there’s one thing I greatly despise or find upsetting about the turn of events as such. These emoticons! Truly annoying! I’d rather say, misunderstood, misused and that’s such a mishap! Nobody ever fully gets what the other person tries to convey with a combination of colon, semi-colon, paranthesis and p’s and d’s and o’s! It’s been of such extensive use that it no longer means anytging. Well, use them anyway. I do too. They are the ice-breakers and once in a while, funny too. But I am sad how my smiles don’t pass by this. I put a : followed by a ) coz I actually really genuinely love to smile. And when I say keep smiling, I totally mean that. In the havoc of millions of colourful and disgusting smileys, I wish 🙂 could win the throne back and be the master of all smileys! Bring the pioneer back, I say! Back then, with the smiling face, was the only time we could actually communicate ’emoticons’ without confusion! A sad face, once in a while, was fine too!

Now thinking of it, ‘Keep smiling!’ was the motto of my school. The school that laid that basic blocks of my morale and principles. Wonder why it took me so long to assimilate the thought! Everytime, I saw that writing on the black board, I was wondering what’s up with the grown ups! Why would they even teach us to be escapists, run away from life, and ignore problems and just keep smiling? But now, at 21 years of age, I feel like Buddha! Like, the meaning just revealed to me. Like, all that I ever wanted was just buried so deep in my mind, next to a school girl’s confused thoughts! The answer reveals itself and it’s all in the smile. Putting it short, the whole deal here is that, when I tell you (you being my online conversation partner) ‘Keep smiling’, I most genuinely mean it. More than words.

Smile away!

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Zero zone!

~ Soumya ~ 2 Comments

That’s where I often am, these days. A zero zone. Zero emotions. Zero problems. Zero dramas. Zero people. Zero activity. Zero time. Zero place. Zero change. Zero thoughts. Zero. Like division by zero. So meaningless and futile. What can possibly come out of it after all! Being at the zeroth zone, the one thing I can’t help is falling out of it. Now and then. Whether or not I want it. The trouble is, why do I even have to fall out of it. It’s become more like my comfort zone these days. Its just so easy and light, to float in there, like zero gravity. It’s not even a compulsion from anything that I do get out of it, but more like an unmistakable cycle of things, as they are. It feels like a chain, all wound up around my entire self, dragging me in and out of it, not out of compulsion, but more as a chain of cyclic process. It just feels normal to be this way. Zero explanations coz there’s zero demand for it! As the better half once remarked..zero cause, infinite reasons! (Or the other way round?!)

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Escalation..

~ Soumya ~ 1 Comment

Escalation instead of rising above. Seriously! What’s even wrong with me! Why don’t I just use simple words and be in simpler terms with people and things. I guess it’s my passion towards big words, or the show off attitude! Should I even consider the possibility that, may be, its actually that I have a complex stream of thoughts, and the crudeness in it, is just reflected in the choice of words of expression. I believe its ‘I assume’ than ‘believe’ in my brain. ‘Elevated’ instead of ‘high’. ‘Crude’ for complex. ‘Indispensable’ for ‘essential’. ‘Survival’ for living. ‘Beseech’ for …what..I don’t even know a simpler word for that! That’s how wound up I feel. Never letting go of my ways. Never understood. Never fought for. Never won over. Never acknowledged. But not to forget mentioning, I totally don’t regret being misunderstood or not being understood at all. What hurts is the lethargy between doing something, and not doing that something. I don’t even know how those polar opposites things could have been connected in my brain. Perhaps. that is what my cousin read out of the health magazine and diagnosed me as a typical case of Bipolar Disorder!

Recently, every psychological write up on mental health and stability is kinda held against me, as I exhibit most of the symptoms, or so claim the people of my life! Whatever may that part be, I am assuming myself to be a sensible person. Sensible enough that I could write a book that generations ahead may find useful! But what should it be about is what confuses me! 😛 May be on how to gloat more euphemistically?!?

P.S. I suck! So much in writing. And so much more in other things. I am so confused about my own writing and lately I have totally stopped making sense. Did anybody even get any tinge of the sarcasm I intended at the last line of the crap above? If yes, a comment would be greatly appreciated. Only if you got the sarcasm. Just a self evaluation process for me.

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Dated!

~ Soumya ~ 3 Comments

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!

~ Soumya ~ Leave a comment

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!

~ Soumya ~ 2 Comments

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!

~ Soumya ~ Leave a comment

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!

~ Soumya ~ 3 Comments

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.