I(‘)mperfect.

~ Soumya ~ Leave a comment

I’m going back in life. To a point I never wished to return. I’m back there, where I think so much and look like I’m always in dreams, rather reverie. I’m so much lost in dreams that I so much lose my words and the wonderful stories that I wanted to share. Recursively, I think of something, think of writing it down, think of the opening sentences, go back to thinking and then think all that I want to write. Writing turns so pointless then!

Recently, I had found a solution to it. I had thought of adopting the typical ‘bulletin’ style of writing. I wished if I could sum up a week’s eventful events and in turn, write something beyond just thinking. And it’s then that I noticed one amazing aspect of my recent life. I had only amazing things to put up on my bulletin. My recent life has no sad stories or huge drama. And I almost can’t believe it’s my life. Pushed a friend into writing and saw for myself how awesome she writes. Stayed at my native and came to college from there, like it was my home. Broke a cold war and now it’s a hot war. Ended another cold war, and now I’m all cosy about it. Hugged my grandma and slept, after long years! Unplugged my headset more often, and listened to more unknown people and became a part of more unheard stories. Small things with infinite implications, happened in my life. Recently. And finally, the last straw is back. Like it was never broken. How much less depressing can my life be!

Un-RIP!

~ Soumya ~ Leave a comment

Has been ages since I wrote something. I so much miss me! So, where was I all these days? Thought I’d have to ask the question and frame the answer, all by myself. But fortunately, I’m elated by the fact that people actually were following me and they did notice my absence. Never have I been so sad that I haven’t written for so long either. Now that I don’t have a satisfactory answer or atleast an excuse, I choose not to answer that question that was thrown at me by people. I am here. Always around. But when I don’t write, something is just not so okay. Something might have just happened, you know. Like, a new semster might have started. Or may be, a relocation might have happened. A friend might have kept me busy. A health issue might have triggered my laziness. Or may be, I might have just lost my words for a while. Then again, what was it this time? No, don’t ask me. It should have been a mix of all of these or some of these, or may be none of these. Now that I’m back, I’m planning to hang on for a while more. An indefinite while. For I have things to share, talk, comment and elaborate. About college, the sober days, the ‘not just another’ days. There’s stuff to write. Once again.

The yellow frock!

~ Soumya ~ 3 Comments

I’m a kid. Twelve or thirteen. I’m always confused about my age. I just celebrated my twelfth birthday last month. So what do I say now? I’m twelve and running? Or just thirteen? The celebration was bright. With two cakes, a chocolate flavoured ‘Tom’ and a strawberry ‘princess’. One from mom and the other from dad. They are too loving, ain’t they? I love them too.

I’m twenty now. Not a kid anymore, you know. Don’t already assume that I got over my confusion with age. I ‘m sure today coz it’s today that I turned twenty. So it doesn’t mattet whether or not I plan to run to twenty one. Birthday wasn’t bright now. There weren’t cakes. My parents are still loving. They just didn’t want to distract me in the middle of my Board exams. Of course, little did they know of the fun and drama with friends! They wouldn’t understand anyway. Call it whatever crap, it’s a gap that generations can’t bridge! Its not about birthdays that I want to talk about the best part of birthdays! Gifts, as you guess it. I’m not so fond of surprise goodies packed in loads for my special day! But at the end of the day, gifts are what curves my lips. Tiny wrappings with chweet words. I’d love them anyday! Then again, now that I’m not twelve or twenty, my most pride pivots on the idea that gifts need not be taken always. I could quite well give them too.

Gifts as I said. They are precious beyond the price. Valued beyond the worth. And so I was waiting for this marvellous day. Years after my twelfth and twentieth birthday. It finally took me so many years to buy the yellow frock that I saw at twenty, that which I wanted to gift the twelve year old me. It was eternally long. So is the happiness that fills my heart. Eternal and supreme. Okay, what’s the big deal with buying a five hundred bucks yellow frock when you are earning almost hundred times ofit every month. No big deal at all. Except for the simplest idea that, it was a twenty year old’s dream of reliving her childhood. A cherished and sought after butterfly days!

Gifting it to her, I don’t know what I was expecting of her. It was emotional for me. A bit symbolic too. With that one yellow frock that I gave my sister’s little angel, I perhaps wanted her to step through my life and give me back my violet days. Of violet frocks and violet butterflies! Or may be, I just wanted to be happy that, finally now, I get to see my yellow frock often, rather seldom. 🙂

Drunk!

~ Soumya ~ 1 Comment

Drunk and drive is dangerous. Nobody ever mentioned anything about drunk and write. Perhaps, it’s not as dangerous as the other. Or may be, people never get drunk to write but to stop worrying about such crap in life. So may be, nobody actually mix drinking and writing. W not equal to D. T not equal to V. Implies, writing is never equal to driving. Does these imply that I’m drunk? May be I’m drunk. May be I’m not. Does my intoxication matter anymore? I’ve already lectured on it anyway.

You feel light headed. You dont find answers when you drink. But you forget the questions. (quoting you know who! I know too. Dont think I’m trying to hide my ignorance. I know Vijay Malya said that. You didnt know, did you? I’d still use “you know who” coz that sounds cool to me!) Your tongue gives you away first. You might end up puking. (vaal vekkukka) You might even lose control over your emotions and break down and confide in someone. This is what I usually hear as an aftermath of drinking. Drinking alcohol, to make it specific. Drinking milk or water doesn’t do it. My first hand experience!

I dont feel intoxicated. I dont feel high. But at 0230 IST, I’m supposed to be all that. I’m just normal. But I’m feeling ecstatic. Doesn’t that mean something? Yeah, it means I’m normal. My questions aren’t vanishing. I dont forget anything. I dont feel any difference in the weight of my head. I certainly dont think I’m on an emotional break. I feel pleased. Relaxed. Like, there’s no more to worry about. No more to cry upon. No more to yearn for. I feel like… Ah I feel sleep now. Kissing on my eyes. Coaxing me, to make out with me. I should just sleep. Calm and quite. Yet abysmal and chaotic. The perfect sleep!

Intoxication!

~ Soumya ~ 4 Comments

The just before sleep time. That’s an awesomely risky timing for communication with people. The beginning of disorientation. The twist in thoughts and world view. The guts to sing aloud. The will to ring up someone and proclaim the love. The desperation to slap someone with the ugly truth and punch them right on their face. The inch to confess all your live’s mistakes. The urge to talk someone into crazy stuff, and ending up in ridiculous states all by oneself. Think out the most impractical way to solve the most pressing issue in head. And later discover that the whole relief of solution before sleep was just so fake. The imagination to foresee a possible dream and wake up from the daze to shun the thought away. Everything just comes your way naturally. Everything just seems so practical to me. The height of intoxication, if you ask me. You feel drunk and high, and light enough to go to any heights of life, and yet land so smooth.

I’ve been through it. Multiple times. With multiple people. With multiple incidents. And everything turned so disasterous but I just never learn. I’ve managed more fiascos than what anyone can imagine, with my intoxicated communications. I blurt out stuff. I sing aloud. I abuse. I cry. I laugh. I just bring out the broken loose me, from the inside and create mess. The mess just turned out so risky as I have become so thoughtless and indiscreet with my words and thoughts. I ended up talking totally impossible stuff to a friend recently. I abused another with all my heart. I talked someone out of misery. And the last thing I did was something like, just rewind some important life events with my cousin. And guess what I got! (Or rather caught!) I caught her attempting to record my intoxicated ramblings! She was ‘just’ attempting, thank god! 😀 (below is an image of her stupid phone which got stuck as she tried to record my words. Even the phone couldn’t handle it. Lol.)

But then. I’m not yet planning to stop this. The night communication might be risky. But it feels genuine. The next morning, what I feel is not my exposed fragility. I feel good. Just plainly good that I was true and real. A genuine lightness settles down with it’s weight on my head. Most my blog posts are the just-before-sleep type. Now you know! 🙂

Nightmares.

~ Soumya ~ 2 Comments

Some dream. Some dont. Some good. Some bad. Nightmares. People scream out in fear and wake up gasping for breath.Struggling to come out of what they saw in the dream, reassuring it to be just a nightmare. That’s all common. Very common that almost all of us have had unforgettable experiences with nightmares. I’m not claiming it’s different with me. But yet it is. I have never screamed or even woken up. That’s not much strange. But this fact that, everyday, I’m having the same strange gripping fear as I go to bed, and the very same fear coming true in my nightmares, and waking up exhausted beyond measure. That is strange. Strange enough to be considered so.

I dont know how to describe what I see. It’s hard. It’s private. And it’s complicated. The same repetitive thought that’s pushed down into the subconscious that resurrects in my sleep. I dont know if that’s the right way of defining nightmares. But that’s how the case is with me. I just dont want it again. And if I writing it down like this helps,I’d be the most glad.

I dream often. Strange and scary. I once dreamt. I was walking. Slow and steady. Gradually growing up in pace, as if I’d acceleration under my foot. And at some point, I was losing control over my acceleration. The road was suddenly inclined. And I was now speeding downhill. Unable to stop. Without brakes. High on acceleration. And the obvious wasn’t much far. I trip and fall. I hurt myself beyond repair. The dream end there. And I continue to sleep unaffected, only to find myself afraid to walk fast ever since, for a long time from then. I hope none of my readers are dream interpreters. Please dont look into me, so fierce and sharp. 🙂

Amaidhi! (Peace!)

~ Soumya ~ Leave a comment

“Naan ithellam naraiya parthachu. Irappum athin vedanayum ennai asaikkathu. Moondru maranangalai arukil irunthu parthen. Avai thantha sakthi alavatrathu. Aayulneelam adayum varai vazhven. Munnal ellam udambu othozhikkamal irunthu. Manathin uruthi mattum vaithu ippothu veetuvelai ellam izhuthupottu seyya kooda mudiyarathu enakku. Ennava irunthalum thaangikolkira thembu irukku ippothu.”

The above isn’t the exact words. But the exact content, in a way I would say it, from what an eighty-something lady told me. A vague translation could go like this :

“I’ve seen them all. Death and it’s pain does nothing to me now. I stood by three deaths and the strength they gave me is tremendous. My body is old and weak. But with my will, I now manage the household chores too. The power to strive and strength to live help me through reaching the end.”

Is the speaker relevant here? She’s an old woman. But not the ailing and dying kinda. She was ailing and dying when I saw her years back. But right now, when she looks into my eyes and utters these words of sinew, she has grown. From the weak old woman to a firm bold remnant of the existence. I’m not counting upon her as an inspiration. But she definitely did something close. Like a grip of assurance. Like a glimmer of purpose. Like a split second truth. Like an all-is-well hug.

Jigsaw!

~ Soumya ~ Leave a comment

Colgate toothpaste people once offered jigsaw puzzles as free gifts to their bulk buyers. My grandpa was a buyer and he got one too. It was made MINE by me unconditionally! That was my first jigsaw. The map of India, split into a hundred pieces. That was hard. Just too hard. Me and my little cousin, (I was little too, back then) sat down for hours to solve it. And if my memory doesn’t fail me, she lost interest half way and I took my precious jigsaw home and sat with it till I finally solved it. It was step by step. First time, I matched the colours and filled the voids. Then started linking letters and connected broken words. With the big picture in my mind, I associated the bends and curves with the geography and location of the states. Everytime I solved the puzzle, I was devising a new way to solve that brain teaser. Beginning from the middle, and growing in all directions. Finishing the border rectangle and shrinking inwards. Ways were many to reach the big picture. Never satisfied with the techniques, I gathered the pieces and timed my setting up of the puzzle. I was fast enough for me to be proud of myself. Every other jigsaw that my little sis was gifted, was less than a minutes business for me. After all, they were 6 – 10 piece puzzles meant for kids!

Jigsaws vanished. Sudoku and Minesweeper are better mind games, topped by jumbled words. With their varying difficulty levels, time is never enough to finish them. There’s almost no time for thinking about jigsaw, that I’ve already mastered with glory. Today was an eye opener. The puzzle below. Hardly a twenty four piece jigsaw and I couldn’t solve it in three big minutes. I can explain. I was not thinking proper. I was absent minded. I was not taking it serious. Ah cut the crap. I couldn’t solve that god damn puzzle. The one that I thought I was an ace at! Forget it. It’s just the disintegration of molecules from the the brain. 😀

Enchanted!

~ Soumya ~ Leave a comment

I dont mind if you didn’t trust anyother post of mine. But this you must trust. I beg you trust this. Without the sparkle of my imaginations, without the innate exaggerations. Trust me when I say I had the most enchanted (in)sight of life just now. Two hours before typing this, I was enchanted!

Train and rain together isn’t rare but still beautiful. I just discovered the scary part of it today. Rain wasn’t calm and gentle and soothing. It was penetrating into me like needles. The wind was violent. In the lightening background, I could see criss cross lines of rain. Each drop visibly travelling at a different speed than the others. Hitting the moving train and scattering into a tremendous splash of freedom. Amazing was their dispersal, redefining all the discipline and pattern, beautified by a poet’s imagination. But it was just today that I saw the reality. Without order. Chaotic. Unpoetic. That’s what rain is all about.

The most scary thing about rain, and or or, train is the lightening. The silhouette of the dark river beneath the shaky bridge. The eerily and sparsely glowing structures in the patternless lightening. The abyss that shimmers below your feet as you lean into the gushing air. Scared to death. But I want the sight back again. Like the godly raindrops in my hand and wind that stroked my hair.

Relieved!

~ Soumya ~ Leave a comment

Feels like something heavy has been lifted off my shoulders. Or may be off my heart. I find the lightness at my head though. Light headed! A sudden revelation that could relieve my entire body and mind. Manoeuvring through the life entanglements,
I’ve finally found space for myself. Time for myself. And a life for myself.

I’m in a hurry. I dont have time to rest and relax. I’ve just found a way not to rust and perish. I am yet to walk it’s length. One fine moment, I feel like Vivekananda. “Awake! Arise! Stop not till the goal is reached!” And in some other undefined moment, I feel like Murphy. “Spend sufficient time in confirming the need and the need will disappear.” And then I’m dropped into limbo. Abandoned and lost. In the company of cast aside existence. Into the oblivion. Without decisions. Without reasons. Held into an indefinite confinement.

Where do I go? What do I do? Why would I do? How do I do? When do I do? Back again, What! Dont answer me. I’m not expecting answers. I’d even strangle you to death if you hint on answering any of my questions. I’m in constrained privacy. And over that, I find it cumbersome to carry a pen and a paper wherever I go. That’s the reason why things that should have been cosy in a hardbind diary have ended up here on wordpress hosting. But that doesn’t let anybody to walk in and judge. This is public. Come. Read. Enjoy. Criticise. Appreciate. Judge. That’s it. That’s where I draw the line. Dont step across.

P. S. To all my readers of sound discretion, I’m sorry if I appear like I’m building fortresses across my ramblings. I really am upto it. Intelligence reports say that an internal insecurity attack is around the corner! Confessing my insecurity.