Category: Rhetoric

Nothing else matters!

~ Soumya ~ Leave a comment

I dont know if I could actually call myself a Metallica fan. I’m not a hardcore fanatic who goes behind everything about Metallica. I hardly know their band or the songs they made wonderful. But then, I still assume I could be considered a Metallica maniac for my inexplicable liking for their masterpiece, “Nothing else matters.” I dont know how long has it been since I developed a liking to English songs. But ever since I liked them, I’ve loved “nothing else matters”. It rings in my soul as though its MY theme music that plays in the background, everytime something substantial happens in my life. It kinda sounds funny, but true yet that I think so much about the song that I can keep essaying about the wonders this particular track does to me. To all you people who had anything at all to do with this song and me, just know I owe you a lot!

Exaggeration is too small a word to describe what I’m doing right now. But I’m liking this. Beyond measure, life attains worth when small things get cherished and valued priceless. Tiny things always fascinate people in general, not specifically me. But the fascination is too short lived that it’d have been too late when you finally accept your fantasies. They’d just never seem like anything more than exaggerations or boasting.

I’m a simple person with complex perspectives and lucid expressions. Transparent imagery and elegant exemplification flow to me peacefully. Symbolisms coexist with me, as in symbiosis. I’m incomplete without every single one of them. Nor is perfection achieved in them without the ‘my’ touch! Comment. Warn. Threaten. Plead. Do whatever in your power to leash my thoughts and seize my existence. Just be known though. Nothing changes anything about me or my ways of life. Plain and simple. Nothing matters at all!

The hole in the wholesome

~ Soumya ~ Leave a comment

Change is difficult for me. For change is never complete to me. It’s partial and segmented. Change is oriented and specific, limited and bounded by constraints. I have never changed anything about me completely. Exceptions held onto me like vicious inescapable traps. I always fell for people, things and places and the goodness and promises that they hold. I always did. I’m trying. To change my exceptions. All of a sudden, it sounds perfect to believe it never was people. People are fake. Every single one of them. I cant spot a single face of genuinity among all the faces that I ever have seen. Not even in the mirror. That makes my point crystal clear.

A revamping change is frightening me. I’m afraid. But I dont cry anymore. Never again do I stay helpless. I dont see a hand to save me. All is fake. Nothing is real. No one is genuine. I am fighting. Not against the disgusting cheat. But the exceptions of my change. People as a whole are kept away. Nobody is worth my trust. I have learnt it the hard way. I was afraid to change as a whole, coz the exceptions ruled over my changes. Nothing ever got changed coz my exceptions were strong. Not anymore.

My nostalgia continues. About places. About the rooms. About the setting suns. About the moonlit skies. The dine outs. The second shows. The aimless wandering. My nostalgia stays with them. The change doesn’t change them. But people. They are more than merely irrelevant. I’ve learnt. The hardest way of life. Betrayal.

Photo s hoot

~ Soumya ~ Leave a comment

An old thought of mine was returned to me by someone. That taking photos is such a waste. The moment happened for you to see it and cherish the sight forever in your memories. Not to be shot and stored as *.jpeg or *.gif in your disk. You never go back to it except when its time for a photography contest. Things aren’t cherished but judged.

What I said is just a general case where people compete with extraordinary cameras to an ordinary element of sheer talent and taste to photography. Photography is an art. Truly an art with a lot of passion and so much less of talent, to put it more correct. As any other art, it demands a drive. A spirit to make it worth knowing. Nothing matches that gift. But amazingly, it’s not something you are born with to be called an innate thing. It roots out of a deep desire of sharing the sight you had with someone else who deserve to have enjoyed the charm. It’s a craving to show the world through a different perspective that’s unique to the photographer. What you see would have been missed by others and that’s what makes you exceptional in taking photos. It’s a story you say. A symbolism you develop. An impression that you make. With the marvel of colours and elegance of light and audacity of darkness.

The degrees of like!

~ Soumya ~ Leave a comment

How much can you like something or someone? It is only as much as making somebody else jealous of your like. I have liked a lot of people in my life and still like a lot more of them. But then, now it feels like I’m on the nth degree of it. How plausible could that be? Can ‘like’ or ‘love’ have a saturation point? Seems like they can. Do not confuse with satiety. At the nth degree of love, (like replaced by love, coz all references herein are made to people and not to things), I am not done loving anybody. But the love feels saturated. Like, more of love can make no difference. Being so intimate to someone that moving any closer will only crush the person’s soul. As though, a bit of gap wouldn’t harm, but instead give us some air to breath. Loving people so much makes it really hard to let them take a step away from you. Taking a decision for themselves, missing out on wishing you on your special day, unexpected delaying of a scheduled meeting up. Every single one of them makes you feel like your entire world collapses there! Don’t label this obsession already. I am not talking about how obsessed am I with people.

There’s a state in between. Between love and obsession. Between hatred and falling apart. A stupid crappy state! You don’t budge. You want it done implies you WANT it done. No matter how much you push yourself into the realisation of things as simple as they are, it always seems complex and ciphered. You dont read along the plain lines of life and complain how bleak it is between the lines. As ever, simple things get complex in frail fingers like mine. Its not easy to understand straight aspects of life, when you struggle to define its implications symbolising lives! Not catching up often, missing to reciprocate wishes, forgetting to look back and failing to notice are not things that ends the world. But then, knowing is not enough. Never enough.

I love people. Have always loved them and will always do. Loved enough to make others jealous. People envy my love!

P.S. I am not in ‘love’ as in ‘love’. So please don’t ring me up and yell at me, “Why didnt you tell me earlier??”, “Dont you have the sense to keep things private?”, “Tell me who who??”. Lol. Dont do that to me coz its not what you think it is.

Just a word

~ Soumya ~ Leave a comment

Words are few. To describe all life’s joy and sorrow, pain and agony, love and hate, words are too few. I have had the most of them. The best awesome wonderful words. People give it to me. Knowingly and unknowingly. Over the years, ‘people’ have contributed more than ‘reading’ in building my vocab.

The most amazing and most cherished words are given to me by my brother. I still remember how he used to make me run for the dictionary and search the meaning of every new word that he shoots at me! The abysmal fall to the oblivion is often broken by the obvious concurrence of our fragile existence and the omnipresence. Well, the sentence wouldn’t have made sense to many of you. That’s so many words that he gave me bound together! He told me how rendezvous is just rondayvoo, how sarcasm and pun are similar, what gerunds are and finally how beseech is the best word of expression! It doesn’t end in a single post. Half the words in my writing are stolen from his treasure. How many of you even know the precise meaning of vocab? Its not just a set of awesome brilliant words. Its the skill of using the right word at the place. He told me that and he gave me that.

There are more contributors. My mom gave me the second best word, solace. She instantly knew the word I was searching for! Lol. Reimbursement also owes its credit to her. My dad wasn’t any bad. He handpicked the toughest words from all available English write ups he read. In neatly folded chits, the language was flowing to me every evening, as a brook, as a river and now finally contributing to the ocean itself. He brought me paper cuttings which had English that he failed to assimilate. He’d still come to me for drafting and editing his official letters. Dad, you never knew how proud it makes me!

There was Neha of course, my closest ever friend or listener or chatter box. She called me a git and it took me five min to get the meaning! And I called her naive. And more words returned finally stuck at a loss of words. Not forgetting to mention Rahul for bringing back ‘status quo’ and ‘au revoir’ after long. More words. More people. From ‘alma mater’ to ‘iconoclast’.

Words are yet too few to thank them all and tell them how happy every single word makes me. Looking out for more words. Or may be, just another word!

Shrinking mind!

~ Soumya ~ 2 Comments

Do I look like a ‘shrink’ from any angle? Do I actually look like some human god who can curb away all your sorrow? I find it ridiculous people confide in me. Not irritated. Just amused at the very idea. When I say people, the list is sufficiently wide and endless. I dont know if that’s even the reason why I smile so less to people and frown all the time.

She’s on her way back from Bangalore. Its extreme cold there and she was shivering and had to see a doc there. One cant get out of home till ten in the morning coz its snowing all the time. Its her sister staying there. Her sister is working and hence busy. So she goes around to meet up once in a while. Her husband is also busy. So she goes around all by herself. She was too afraid to travel alone. But once everybody started teasing her, she pushed away the fear and began to travel alone. She lost her kid. Life is more or less empty now. Vidya is her name. Except for the last sentence, all the previous ones were her answers to the questions she might have wished me to ask. The five hour train journey was intermittently and effortlessly made engaging. I should have known better to maintain my indifference and never take away the headset from my ears.

I’m not callous. I’m not insensitive to others’ grievances or pain and agony. But being pricked doesn’t feel good. Everytime someone talks to me, I am itched to talk to someone too. Someone atleast! Thinking of the fact it is, I lack an ear. That’s too valid a prick as well!

First time, I’m regretting something that I wrote. I shouldn’t have written this. I really shouldn’t. Most of you who read this, have talked to me and I perhaps helped you vent. I’m not counting back and seeking redressal. All that I meant was, I need someone to talk to. The way I stood for you is not a comparison. Its just a prayer!

The iconoclast!

~ Soumya ~ Leave a comment

All my life was an attempt in vain to be an iconoclast. I did not think being one is easy. But I assumed it was possible for me. But the futility of my efforts is depressing. Futility isn’t absolute though. I haven’t yet met with a fiasco. Its just minor flaws that reflect major shortcomings to what I have always wanted. So now what do you say? Is my loss redeemable yet?

My mom read the blog the other day. And her obvious worry! What on earth is my never ending saga of mourning and pain about? She wonders what have I lost so much in life. She’s right about that. I haven’t ‘lost’ anything in life. Life is good. As good and as smooth as it should be. For an average girl of my age, requirements are few and expectations are huge. And for me, they never matter for they are all taken care of. Wants and needs are the way I define it for myself. If I call a want to my need, it gets done as my most immediate need. All thanks to my family and people around me.

But what if I am the illusion myself. Practicality ruling over me, often I filter my wants and needs. What I desperately need gets pushed under my fancies, presumably too irrelevant to be even thought of for a second time.

I get that. Even without looking at your eyes, its obvious what you are thinking. When people have totally nothing to do, may be they can think so much and write so much and drive others nuts! Lol. I agree. I have totally nothing to do. Hence I think. Hence I write. So with you. You dont have anything to do. You dont think yet. You dont write yet. Hence you read. And hence you pull your hair. Who should be blamed?

Traffic – a review

~ Soumya ~ Leave a comment

A very very delayed reviewing of the movie Traffic. My inability to stay updated with every other movie playing in the cinemas should be kindly excused. I dont go out for movies alone yet. Nor do I beg my parents. So well, reviewing gets delayed. However though, I saw “Traffic”, going to the cinemas. 😛

Writing about it has been there in my mind ever since. For the urge to be strong enough to push me into writing this took so long! So now what actually pushes me into writing this is silly. A casual quick read of today’s chronicle gave me a glimpse of a self development feature, penned by Anupam Kher. He was vaguely talking about how life is a Domino effect. Or atleast, that’s what I vaguely deciphered from the write up, at a glance. Just as you get up, the first thing that happens to you is the trigger of the entire chain of events of the day. People call it by omen, lucky charm, divine signs and what not. The decision that you make this precise moment is totally dependent on the immediate previous moment of your life. And it continues, as if traversing through a reverse Domino effect. One after the other, perfectly cascaded and aligned. Thus happens life. A shouting at B. B throwing C out of job. C breaking up with D. D committing suicide in front of E. Enlightened E apologising to F. Fmaking friends with A. And back to A, B, C and D. Well, after putting this down, I guess I’m not cent percent correct with this theory of mine. It doesn’t feel wrong yet. 🙂

This stream of thought is awesomely conveyed through the movie. Every scene feels so related to the previous sequence of events. The story line crosses many lives and the connectedness is spread across all characters. Overall, you might miss consecutive connectedness. The relativity of the dialogues and the scenes are taken to a level so subtle that you dig into the movie to identify with them.

Like many our lives, unrelated instances create commotion and change the very course of the plot. Unable to identify with the strange relativity and subtle line of connectivity, people often fight back the swirl and drown themselves. Seldom do we realise, drifting along with the current is a much easier way to unravel the eerie ties of dependence!

Ah! The butterfly effect!

Aghast!

~ Soumya ~ Leave a comment

Taken aghast by the turn of events. So totally shocked to move a limb, raise a thought, utter a word. I’m shivering. Not in the chill. But in the coldness around me.

Changes are what people should be used to and okay with. But then, I aint very happy about the very change. One pushed
after the after, my stack is full. Overflow condition! They are still in stack. Cant execute any of them. Coz none of them gets popped. My top pointer was never incremented. How the heck am I gonna empty my stack and finally ‘accept’ changes!

Ah crap! My programming sucks. I’m ashamed to call it coding. ‘Coding’ sounds techy and geeky. But ‘programming’ is okay for losers like me. There’s always this bug that escapes my eyes. Rather, my skills. It usually is too late before I even acknowledge that the code is erroneous.

What do I do then? What are my options? I cant change a bit. I cant take change a bit. I’m just so fucked by the changes. And the blow, one after the other. Too heavy to be blown away!

Have faith!

~ Soumya ~ Leave a comment

I broke my new year resolution. Not purposefully. My body couldnt make it though my mind was all set. Both the days I didnt post anything, I had drafts saved. Very clear thoughts waited in patience to be crafted into the most beautiful words of mine. They never got satisfied. my thoughts died a horrible death as my body was pushed into the abysmal emptiness of sleep. As my body relaxed, my soul was crushed. I failed a commitment made to myself. How can I ever be trusted by someone else. I might cheat. I might fall back on my words. And my body will always be there to take the blame.

Please. Have faith in me. Trust me. I wont fail. Not again and again. My thoughts need an after death ceremony atleast. They’ll attain peace as they mate with my words. If not this night, their cravings to be caressed by my irresistible words will be fulfilled. They’ll unite. My words yearn for my thoughts too. They are in love. My voluptous thoughts ad tempted words will have their night!