In the going!

So now finally, when 2012 is in the going, what’s more important to me? Welcoming the New Year and stepping into 2013 with grace and certitude are all part of my schedule. But, as I said, what’s the most important thing? Its actually winding up 2012 in as good a note as possible by me, for myself. 2012 was a nightmare. Don’t take me for a person who whines this at every New Year Eve. The past year was that bad. 2012! This is what I want to do. Guess I just did it and I am so much more at peace with myself now. The past year must be wrapped in a box, tight and secure. I don’t want it to ever repeat and seep into the future, that begins in less than an hour.

I have a lot to say about 2012. I can list out the points, where I failed, how I lost, what I lacked. But I am sure that won’t help improve my New Year. They were tough days. And tough lessons. And tougher punishments, everytime I failed to assimilate them. I’d rather not take such a rigid course! There’s nothing I carry over from the past, into my future. There are no big anticipations. No ceremonious beginning of the year. No hopes attached anywhere. Its just another night. To wake into another morning. Nothing changes with the sun rise. Change is a matter of more substance than dawn and the light. I am not pessimistic here. I am not expecting the worst out of tomorrow, or the days that follow, making 2013. I am being the realist once again. The one that I was, before the onset of the mishap called 2012. I can deal with life, without fancy dates associating to it.

This year. This day. This moment is what I feared I’d never survive. I am thru with ’em all! What more to stop me! I survived. I stood thru today. And that inspires me to live thru tomorrow. Today is the day I feared yesterday! And today turns out to be just another, and over before I even knew it. With a handful of decisions (resolutions sound silly beyond tolerance) to revamp LIFE, I stil claim, ‘No hopes attached’! Hoping to stay detached from hopes. 😛

Stranger!

So I’m back being myself, bits and parts atleast. The closed chapter of strange acquaintances are back once again and that’s the sign I am claiming for my comeback. I saw this guy getting down at my stop, from the same bus, confirming the road to the railway station. I should have just kept quite all the time. But as I saw him taking the wrong road, I couldn’t stop my instinctive response. So now we walked together to the station. I reminded myself to keep my words short and crisp. The typical Malayali woman’s insecurity, you may call it and I wouldn’t fully disagree! He didn’t throw much random chattering either. Or, so I guess. At the ticket counter, when his queue moved faster, I knew the impending danger. The tickets, since the destination was same, came in a single slip. There was no escape for the next five hours and it was made official by that chit of paper. I somehow didn’t feel the necessity to resist it though. I was lonely enough to have anybody’s company at all. Come on! I could always plug in the headset or pick up a book or atleast hop on to the upper berth if it becomes so bad. Off to the platform anyway!

And now he calls me by name. Rather, shouts my name across the platform. Okay, names were exchanged and everyone has it to be addressed only. However, from a stranger’s mouth, my name seemed the most awkward thing ever to be heard. Paying off my share of the ticket in the first few minutes itself, I was trying to build the safer indifferent aura around me. Either it didn’t bother him or may be that went unnoticed. Until the train’s arrival, things were pretty normal, both of us gripped to our own books. Once within the train, it was a mess and chaos to find an inch to settle down. Finally, walked across the pantry car (first time!!) and many more coaches to finally find a comfortable seat. And btw, the Indian Railway pantry is NOT so bad, pretty hygienic actually. And then, as we settled down, the chatterbox opened. Pucca non-stop irritating blabber mouth. He began with his freinds, business, the numerous contacts he has, the people he meets everyday, the all rounder he is, blah blah. Pretty much gloating. But there was a charm in it, that you would just yield to all the boastings and quietly listen. Which is exactly what I did. I had no room to talk. He even bought a water bottle and a snack packet, to engage my mouth. I was pinned to his incessant talking, with occasional concerns if the conversation was boring, though all we had was his unusually interesting monologues.

Somewhere in the middle of the talk, his mom calls and he offers the phone to me to talk to her. And now that was something way beyond my weirdest thoughts. Talking to a stranger was a good enough thing about socialising. But befriending their family felt very awkward. Somehow after that call, the conversation took a turn and we almost began picking up fights and debated over theism and spirituality and science and countless other things. I felt friendly (strangely instantly), with a stranger. As always, I got more serious than requiredabout the argument and surprisingly, he didn’t back off either. There was a strange genuinity in each point he made, making me want the argument to never end. But finally as we neared station, an attempt of reconcilation was initiated and made successful. We parted greeting eachother, wondering when might we see again. Concluding that there’s no next time, we made.our own way out of the crowd. He had offered to drop. But didn’t bother to ask for my number or any contact info. It doesn’t particularly make him genuine or fake. But that was the beauty of it. With no chance of seeing ever again, we still made it to give the best to eachother. No pretensions, no expectations, just a few happy hours. Or, so I choose to believe about the brief experience I so much enjoyed.

Nightmares.

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!)

“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.

Enchanted!

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!

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.

The 22fk movie!

After long, saw a movie. And perhaps the right movie to see. Twenty two, Female, Kottayam. The title was promising. So was the whole movie experience. This cant be seen as a movie review. Dont set your expectations high.

We decided to go in a group. Cousins and friends and friends of friends. But finally at the eve of going, I could see my cousin’s little cousin missing. The reason that I got really took me aback! The movie wasn’t “suitable” for a girl of her age it seemed! I grew nervous and sweating, wondering if I’m finally all set for an adult movie. What would I tell my parents? Is this what my friends advocated for? I couldn’t find answers for any of those. Then came a more disturbing question. Wasn’t that girl just two years younger than me? And nobody thinks it is inappropriate for me. She had a brother to stop her from it. Nobody actually bothers with me? Well, that should have been rejoicing for me. It’s that sense of freedom that I always ever wanted. But yet, the question was as disturbing as it initially was. I couldn’t let go of my insecurity.

The movie began. We were late but had reserved seats. So the only difficult part was walking through the aisle in the dark, without tripping. (The most scary part of cinemas, actually!) Settling down at my seat, I didn’t know what to expect. I was prepared for anything and everything. Everything was smooth and running. I rationalised that it cant be an adult movie. It wasn’t to be on show. Ofcourse, there’s a censorship. I was relaxing. Intermission. I was at peace. Not about the movie. But about the initial disturbing questions. I had answers to all of them.

The movie was inappropriate for the girl not because of its sexuality. Censorship cannot be exercised over the inappropriate content either. There wasn’t anything explicit. It’s the theme what shouldn’t be exposed to “kunju manassu”(innocent minds, quoting her). Betrayal and it’s effects are what should be kept away from a child’s innocence. Not sex or sensuality.

Are you a mentally stable and normal person? Or do you scream in the public road? Do you yell out of desperation?
Do you find it difficult to distinguish between pain and no pain? The movie is a normality test. If you can manage to retain as much peace of mind, after the movie, as you had before the movie, then you are probably a very normal person. But any exception might imply otherwise. Lol. I’m not scaring anyone. But reality doesn’t seem far from it.

The fear of being violated. The gripping insecurity. The irreplaceable trust despite the betrayal. The willingness to forget and move on but never forgive. Nobody would define these as normal. And btw normal people could never define abnormality. Vice versa holds too!

The hole in the wholesome

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.

Early morning dream

My mom is constantly worried ever since I told her about my blog. After seeing it for herself, she’s not yet confident that I can make sense in my writings. She assumes I’m nuts and I might blabber around things that I shouldn’t be talking about. My assurances about my readers aint soothing her. Paavam amma! But then, I think she’s a point. So I’ve come to the point of not letting her read my blog. But instead, just tell her what I write. So then, I can conveniently decide what to say and what not to say. This probably is one such post that I wouldn’t let her know.

Came home after a strenuous journey yesterday night. Was tired and slept pretty soon (after the night’s post obviously). Somewhere in the middle of the night, I woke up and there was no returning to sleep. Thought about the unthinkable. Expected the unexpected. Craved for the impossible. Yearned for some sleep. Finally, slept by around six in the morning. But now I wish I hadn’t gotten sleep at all. Do early morning dreams actually come real? I was talking to someone in the same room that I slept yesterday night. Suddenly the conversation turned wild and I went out of my mind. Next thing I see is the person screaming in agony and my left wrist bleeding and right hand clutching to a blade. I saw my hands for a second more in the mirror and then my dad knocked the door. The dream ended there. But the knocking didn’t stop. My dad was actually knocking at the door. I took out my phone to see the time and it was six thirty or so. I was not sweating in shock. But I’m kinda disturbed. Why would I dream of suicide? I dont have such ideas. But then, why did I dream of dying? Rather, killing myself. Do early morning dreams turn real? Hope not. 🙂

The revelation!

Fears aint numbered. Huge in number and immense in impact. I wish if I could count mine. My fears have never ended by any of my lamenting. Everytime I lament, I wish that’s the last time I cry about my fears. I guess my fear is afraid of me, to abandon me and face my wrath. Lol. Fear all around. Life is so frightening to me now. What happened to the bold courageous me? Well, who said I ever was one! People make mistakes. People misunderstand. 🙂

But then, personally I never knew I was so much of a scardy cat. Afraid to move. Afraid not to move. Afraid to talk. Afraid to be silent. Afraid to sleep. Afraid to stay up. Afraid to help. Afraid to not help. Lol. This sounds like Kamal in Thenali? Reality is not much far from that. ‘Ellam sivamaya enparkal. Aanal enakku ellam bhayamayam!’

The latest added to the list is…ah stop there. Just as I typed this, I got a notice from a group of women. “Soumyanjali”. (Respect to Soumya, mourning her death) The recent controversial tragedy of a girl Soumya, brutally raped and killed in train. So does that count to be my fear too? That somebody is following me, day in and day out. It has been there for somedays, resurfacing often.

Back to where I stopped before reading the notice. My latest fearlist member; sleeping in an air conditioned room. That sounds ridiculous. Even to myself. But then, yesterday, after long I slept in an AC room and I was shivering of the fear and not of the cold. May be its the eerie silence. Or may be the buzz of the AC. May be its the presence of the chill. Or may be its simply the absence of my favourite rickety fan and the soothing lullaby it sings for me. I cant sleep without the fan.

More than the presence of something, its the absence of that thing that frightens me. I had typed this sentence once. But connection failed and I lost all that I typed. Cant type again. I’m afraid to lose again.