Chats-The One with myself

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She was cosily asleep in her bed, wrapped in her blanket. She had a peaceful look on her face, a sleep uninterrupted by frequent alarm sneezes or the need for water or the washroom.
It was eight forty five, fifteen minutes till her alarm went off and she woke up. Her room was silent, no sound to disturb her. All the lights were switched off, only the ambient light illuminated her room. The room had a picturesque and quaint feel to itself, like out of a movie.
Another ten minute passed before a voice rose in her room. “She should wake up any second now”. There was no reaction or movement by the girl. The voice didn’t even faze her. The next five minutes till nine went the same as all the other minutes. The odd voice either had its watch set to the wrong time, or was in the wrong room.
It turned nine in her phone and it started ringing and woke the girl up. She woke up with a sudden jolt. She picked up her phone and turned it off. Her face betrayed her long, deep sleep. She looked shocked and lost; obviously troubled by the loud screeching noise. She shook her head and then readied herself to let go of the momentary shock and start the day.
“You’re getting sloppy”, the odd voice rose again. “You used to beat your alarm and turn it off before it even had a chance.”
“I know. I’m getting tired,” the girl replied nonchalantly, stretching her legs. A second passed, and all of a sudden she became shocked. “Whose voice is that?” She had gotten to the side of the bed, eyeing her room cautiously.
“Mine,” the voice responded without any sarcasm or comedy. It was straightforward.
“Oh ha ha,” the girl said. Her voice was sarcastic but worried underneath. “How funny. That’s a convenient answer, isn’t it? Isn’t our voice always our own.”
“Yes, yes it is,” the voice responded like before. “Aren’t all our voices our own?”
“Great. Now if you could tell me who you are, in proper terms.” She was eyeing her room for any weapon she could find.
“I am you,” the voice rose again.
“Oh hi me,” the girl answered sweetly. “Could you tell me just one thing,” her voice rose till she thundered. “Why are you troubling me?”
“Because you need to get out of the rut you continuously put yourself into. Where you lose all energy and excitement to beat your alarm clock. Where you wake up happily, not shocked out of your wits,” the voice thundered.
The girl was caught off guard. The outburst was the last thing she expected from the voice. She looked blankly ahead and stopped her search for a weapon.
“I’ve already answered that. “There was silence between the two. The voice was waiting for the girl to speak. The girl searching for the answer.
“Where are you?” The girl eventually broke the silence. She got up.
“Follow my voice. I’ll let out a little hum. Reach there,” the voice responded and then started emitting a light hum. The girl followed the hum to its source and reached it; her standing mirror. “Take a seat,” the voice said.”
“My mirror?” She put her hands on the mirror and moved it along.
“No, you,” the voice spoke again. “Have a seat.”
She turned around and pulled a chair. “Me, as in, my reflection?”
“No, you as in your mirror. What, do you think your reflection is you in a different world?” The mirror chuckled.
She let out a little chuckle. “So, you can also be funny. That’s good to know.” She made herself comfortable in her chair. “But what’s this whole thing, you know. You my mirror being me and all that.”
“I’ve never questioned it. It’s become a long standing tradition of ours; and I’ve become too comfortable to actually put an effort and know about it. I’ve always been looking over you; trying to help you through everything I can. I look at you going to bed and waking up every day five minutes before the alarm. And sometimes going back to sleep after shutting it off in the sanctuary of your bed; away from the world. I’ve seen you excited at wearing new clothes. And all the times when you’ve stood lost, with that look of sadness and despair, staring into the mirror while grooming yourself, before you’re suddenly jolted back into reality by some unseen stimuli. All those hours fretting, not feeling good enough, all the phone calls which make you feel happy, feel good, as well as those which steal away your peace of mind. I’ve been through all of this with you. It’s been my sole love to do, from your birth to your inevitable death. I’m always looking over you.”
“What about after when I die?”
“Like I said, I’m you. When you die, I go along with you.”
There was another long silence between the two. The girl hunched over her chairs, fists forming by her sides. She was breathing hard, straining her mind to move towards something.
“Why are you here all of a sudden? Talking to me like this, when you’ve never done it before. What changed all of a sudden?”
“I think I reached my limit. Looking at you go through all this; again and again, with no end to this loop till you are pulled out of it.”
She closed her eyes and thought. She took in a few deep breaths and sighed. Realising all that the mirror was talking about. Day after day of constant poison, the people whom she was with every day. Who put her down, didn’t appreciate her, made jokes about her, shouted at her; drained her energy.
“Why do you let them do that to you? Why do you let them bring you down, tell you you are a mess-up for the littlest of things? They laugh at you when you tell them about your dreams and aims. They poke fun at you, make jokes about you. Try to pull you down to where they crawl and leech. Them and all their incessant alcohol and smoke vapours, their mind numbing and boring conversation which couldn’t even stimulate a rock. Their pathetic waste of time. All you do is go along with it, hiding behind a fake smile, trying to be fine with all this. Why do you let them do that?” The voice thundered its words, except the last sentence it was about to say, which it said gently. “Most importantly, why do you stay?”
She stayed motionless throughout. She heard every word with her eyes closed, and the words played themselves out in front of her. A few seconds later, she spoke. “Maybe it’s because I feel there is good in them. That this is just a phase and they will snap out of it someday.”
“And for that you let yourself get thrown around like a ragdoll?” The mirror thundered again.
“You could be nicer you know,” the girl thundered back. “Screaming at me isn’t going to help.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I thought maybe the screening would get some sense into you,” the mirror apologized.
“I feel bad too. But it’s the hope that they will see the light. That’s why at times I feel it’s okay to be with them.”
“How’s that worked out for you?”
The girl chuckled. “Not too well.” There was more silence between the two, then the girl spoke again. “But it could have been worse.”
“Yes, surely could have been,” the mirror joked.
The girl laughed. “Imagine me, walking around like a zombie, navigating through bars with more zombies like me.”
“That would surely be horrible,” the mirror said unenthusiastically.
“Yeah. But I won’t let that happen. I won’t become a zombie, or what you fear I’m becoming.”
“I know. But it still worries me.”
“Would the worrying help?”
“In ways. It catalyses me into action for you. But not too much worrying. That leads me to anger and losing control.”
“Everyone keeps on telling me what you’re telling me. It’s not easy.”
“What?”
“Doing what you believe in and standing against the ridicule of others. It’s not easy. It gets too strenuous most of the time if you go at it alone. Talking, like now, helps. Even if it is against what I feel. I let out some things and learn something as well. How to go about it better, or how to improve. And not just here, with my friends, but life as well.”
“Is all this worth it? All the feeling bad, getting up late, being drained of energy?”
“I honestly don’t know. I mean, it’s weird. Do you stay with the friends whom you’ve always been with? Or do you let it all go away? What does one do here?”
“Whatever one’s life has been up to that point.”
“I guess so. Your past dictates a good part of your future.”
“Yes, but there are exceptions. Sometimes you can do things which nobody expects you to do. We all have that in us. That’s why we have reached form sticks and stones to steel and now the internet. Who knows where we’ll go from here? Cosmic beings of pure intelligence? Or maybe beings who only communicate telepathically, or our eyes? Or maybe creatures with no bones, so we won’t have any fractures. And where will we go from there? It’s all endless. And entropic. But fascinating.”
“You watch way too much sci-fi mirror.”
“You’re bad at holding these conversations, especially given how much you loved wondering about all this in your thoughts.”
“I can’t stay the same.”
“But you shouldn’t change to the extent where you start losing all that which made you happy. Are you happy?”
“I don’t know. It’s tough to say. I smile, I laugh here and there. So I know I’m not sad. But happy. Explain happy.”
“Not being sad I guess. We haven’t put much thought into it.”
“Wow. Before you, I never knew I was so smart,” she mocked the mirror.
“Ignorance is a gift cherished only by the complacent.”
“In this case, this line fits. You are what you say,” the girl smirked.
“And I am, in all aspects, you. With my quip, we shall get back to what we were talking about: happiness.”
“You can’t digress, can you?”
“Not by complacent people.”
“I guess I’ll have to get moving then. What do you think happiness is?”
“It’s a state of satisfaction maybe. Not having thoughts plague your mind. Your eyes have a specific shine, glint in them. They aren’t searching constantly for something, or lost deep in thought. It just, feels great.”
“But you can’t be like that all the time. What if you’re deep in thought? Or there is something stressful going on in your life? Or you’re having a particularly deep conversation which doesn’t involve a lot of smiling.”
“Happiness isn’t discrete. It doesn’t come and go from one situation to the other. It’s always there.”
“How certain are you while stating such a thing?”
“I don’t know. Maybe very, maybe not very. All I know is, we used to be happy in the past. We were better than this. Even when we had a bad day, we knew life was still happy. Somehow, I guess that hasn’t stayed.”
“Or maybe we just remember the happy parts of our past and cling onto them? Or we associate happiness with particular qualities. Which, if we stop having, we believe will also take away our happiness. Maybe we’re unhappy because of ourselves. Because we keep on searching and searching for something to make us happy rather than actually setting out sights on what’s there in front of us which we should appreciate.”
“Rightly so.”
“We constantly put so much pressure on ourselves. To be happy, to be who we were. To reach back to where we were, which in actuality moves us further away from it. Happiness is the ease with which life moves. That ease cannot be brought about by pressure. We must struggle in life, but not for happiness. Never for happiness. Happiness brought about by pressure isn’t happiness. It’s something else.”
“What?”
“What what?” the girl chuckled. “I can’t know the answer to everything. Think for yourself.”
The mirror laughed.
“Given your mind, you deserve so much more than you are getting. You need to go out and get it.”
“But what if I fail? And lose what I am even above?”
“We can never let fear guide us. It takes from dimly lit to dimly lit; always in the safe comfort zone between the pitch black and the radiance. It’s a terrible waste to only look at things from one level of brightness. “
“It is. Life needs colour, lots of it. And perspective. It needs to be big, not long.”
“So, what do you make of it?”
The girl did not respond. She sat in silence, thinking about her answer. She had brought her left knee up and put her chin on it, her arms wrapped around her knee.
The air around them started to become wavy, as though fading out.
“I don’t know. I guess I’ll have to make a plan. See how much more I should stay, and where I am headed to. I think I’ll decide the path only before I set on it, not now.”
The waves became fierce, darkness started to seep into the waves, little images of a room, with light like hers an hour ago moving into the present. A noise started beeping, a high screech.
“Wait, what’s that?” The girl’s focus shifted to the beeping noise. “That’s my alarm clock,” she exclaimed.
“Why, yes it is,” the mirror smiled. “Time to wake up and put your thoughts into motion.”
“What?” She was incredulous. “I’m asleep? Is this a dream? Meaning none of this happened?”
The waves became more intense, and the room from the past mixed in with the present and became more prominent.
“Its status of having happened depends on how you felt it. If it felt real, could it not have happened just because it is not how things are not supposed to happen?”
The waves reached their maximum, and the present had all but lost itself in the past. Frantic, the girl said what she knew would likely be her last words. “Who, are you, then?”
“You,” the mirror smiled.
The waves broke upon reaching their maximum. The waves broke into a quaint, picturesque room, like out of a film, the girl wrapped in her sheet, the alarm ringing incessantly.
The girl, in one swift motion, shut off the alarm and got to her feet.
“Five minutes late,” she said, looking at the phone, which said 9:00 AM.

 

Movie Review- Meri Pyaari Bindu

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It’s been a week since I saw the movie, and I can’t get through the title without a huge smile creeping on my face. I remember the scenes, the ending especially, and the cute faces of Ayushman Khurana and Parineeti Chopra’s characters and looking at them happy, I feel happy. The ending ingrained in my mind is such an amazing source of never ending smiles.
Meri Pyaari Bindu (Loosely translated to My Lovely Bindu) is a combination of (500) Days of Summer, Forrest Gump and Paper Towns. Sort of. For the initiated, the people who have seen these three films, will notice a lot of plot similarities with them. Those who haven’t, you’ll have it in reverse. The one central narrative element which all four movies share, is that the story is focused on the male lead; his character, journey and emotions. The female lead is explored only as much as she impacts the male lead. We don’t delve into her thought process or the nuances of her thinking.
In our story, the male lead is Abhimanyu “Bubla” Roy, who is deeply and madly in love with Bindu Shankarnarayanan, his neighbour since 1983, when he was four.
Meri Pyaari Bindu is a fantastic film. It nails every aspect of film-making, direction, characterization, acting, songs, plot lines and dialogues! Damn.
It is so immensely engrossing. I have particular habit. In the movie hall, if somebody is speaking, or a phone seven rows in front of me turns on with a white scree, I get distracted and spend 10-20 second on the distraction. Fifteen minutes in, I was so into the film, I could care less what anybody was doing or speaking or thinking. I was laughing almost half the time. It became tough not to laugh at almost every scene. At one point, my mom had to tell me to laugh quietly. I remember hitting my knees on two occasions. The comedy is subtle and has you out of your wits.
At the same time, it has a great mix of emotional, which reveals the characters beyond their comedy.
Honestly, if any one of you came up to me and asked me to tell you a scene by scene synopsis of the movie, I would fail. There is just no chance. I was so hooked onto the movie, so engrossed in the scenes, I forgot to watch them; I was experiencing them. Like I said, you get so lost in the movie, you go from scene to scene, remembering the essence but forgetting what it was about. You can barely sequence the. That was about 70% of the first half and 50% of the second half for me.
Meri Pyaari Bindu is insanely artistic. I don’t think I can put it in terms which everyone will agree to; so I’ll put them in terms I relate to. It has so many elements which go beyond the surface. The scenes use nostalgia, often
accompanied by music to familiarise us with the characters. It uses metaphors to speak to us in scenes. The scenes have a deep magic embedded in them, which makes them feel they are scenes which happen only in movies, when they just as easily do in real life. The dialogues often have meaning beyond the surface, which can only be caught by those who pay attention to the film.
This is another reason why I love the film, because all these little little things add so much layer and depth to the film and make it a rewarding experience.
The movie honestly stands on its writing. The movie tackles a concept so well-trodden (the best inarguably by (500) Days of Summer), it’s impossible to set a foundation there because it’s been so overused, the building might crumble under its own weight. Every scene of the movie risks the foundation. Even if one scene were to miss its mark, it would ruin the remaining movie and nullify whatever has been done.
Plus, Ayushman Khurana and Parineeti Chopra had their characters down to the dot. Ayushman Khurana looked damn cute (and innocent and charming) in his portrayal of the silent, straight, supportive, intense, filled with nostalgia Abhimanyu “Bubla” Roy. Parineeti Chopra’s Bindu Shankarnarayanan is random, volatile and smart. Her character is as crazy and unpredictable as is Ayushman Khurana’s stable and silent. And Parineeti Chopra’s character does it all: be crazy, happy, cry silently and loudly, be sad, be depressed, be edgy and happy (the one where you’re satisfied with life and all it has to offer).
There is one particular complaint I have with the film. Everyone who still hasn’t watched the movie might want to skip it and get to the next paragraph. Early on in the film, the concept of a tape is introduced; wherein Abhimanyu and Bindu save 10 songs each on side of a cassette. These are the ten songs which are the most important in their life. We are only ever introduced to one song, the remaining 19 are never seen. I would have loved had all the songs been used, or at least a few more or the concept been revised to fewer songs so they could have been used.
Like I said, Meri Pyaari Bindu is a fantastic movie, one which deserves multiple re watches. Though beware, its comedy, artistic scenes and unconventional style don’t make it everyone’s cup of tea. It is certainly not a bad film by any stretch, but requires some acceptance of unconventional styles for getting into.
Rating-3.5/4

Movie To Watch-Silver Linings Playbook

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Every once in a while, you come across a movie, with such a positive and optimistic story, a happy ending, it leaves you with a huge grin in your face. The characters have resolved their issues and accepted what they couldn’t resolve. They appreciate all that they have, where they are and love the people who are with them here, and were with them the entire journey. They don’t need anything else. They are happy.
Silver Linings Playbook is that sort of a movie. It’s a sweet, terrific, almost a classical film. It’s simple, beautiful and unpretentious. Years from now, this is one of the movies people will remember fondly, with a smile on their face and warmness in their hearts. People will also take inspiration from this film: You have to try hard and stay positive, and then you have a chance at a silver lining; a happy ending. This movie teaches you how to live your life. It inspires you to try and be better.
Not many movies can have such an impact on people. I talked to many people who have seen this film and they all share similar feelings. Everybody loved the film and took something from it: Happiness, optimism, respect for life, love and acceptance.
The direction and cinematography of Silver Linings Playbook is amazing. The selection of scenes and the angles at which they are shot are amazing. They capture the characters in the frames perfectly. It’s not something which is something you can say is missing in a movie. It just stands out and makes the movie better when it is present. Plus the whole dance sequence. Oh good god how did they shoot that! How in the world? Did Bradley Cooper and Jennifer Lawrence dance with the camera? Or were there multiple cameras? The camera gave Bradley Cooper’s and Jennifer Lawrence’s Pat and Tiffany different auras. They had two distinct auras which set them apart. And that was entirely the magic of the camera, nothing else.
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On top of that, the direction is phenomenal. David O. Russell knows all he must do in a scene with the characters and there is no hesitation with it. The execution is flawless.
Obviously, a movie so good cannot be so good without a great script. A bad script can never be made into a great movie, everyone always remember that.
A lot of people already know that the lead characters in the film suffer from psychosomatic disorders. Pat Solitano (Bradley Cooper) suffers from Bipolar Disease. Tiffany (Jennifer Lawrence) has an unmentioned mental illness. Then Pat’s friend Danny (Chris Tucker) has anger issues.
Also, there are a lot of characters in the film who don’t have a psychosomatic disorders, but feel extreme emotions or have mild illnesses as well. Pat’s father, Pat Sr. (Robert De Niro) is speculated to have mild OCD. Ronnie (John Ortiz) confesses that he often finds himself full of rage and breaks things in his garage. This is why I love this movie, because it shows that even normal people, all of us, are not always normal.
I love this aspect. I love how it portrays people. It doesn’t preach that people with psychosomatic disorders are completely different or require pity. At the same time, it also shows how normal people too have bad tendencies, and that is not a bad thing (at least what I feel, though it always helps in letting it out, either all of it at once, or little by little). All people are the same, and only our judgement and labels separate them. If someone is trying to get better, make their life better, no matter who they are, we should root for them, instead of berating the or putting them down or making them feel bad.
Don’t get my words wrong. This is only what I’ve felt after watching the movie, what I’ve interpreted. Psychosomatic disorders are a theme in the film, but the film doesn’t revolve around them. It revolves around people. Family, love, compassion, acceptance, bridging gaps, and happiness.
I’ve often, time and again compared Silver Linings Playbook to a fairy-tale because that is what most acutely describes it. It’s a story where the characters grapple with situations thrown at them; again and again. And they vary each and every time and not every time can they be solved; but it’s essential to learn from them. But at the end, it all works out into a happy ending. My simplistic typing oversimplifies it, but in all honesty, it is much more fleshed out than this. Its characters are simple, unpretentious and not multi-layered.
I’ve been actually planning to post this Movie to Watch for the previous nine months, but I couldn’t hit the right note till six months ago. Then it took me three months to type it all down. I finally posted, I’m sorry it took so long for me to post this. (You’ll get this after you’ve seen the movie). Watch this movie. It’s terrific. It’s a movie you will always remember, and will fall in love with.

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Happy Endings !

Theatre Gallery and Internals

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It’s been a long time since April 10 and 11, the two days we had the Theatre Gallery. Though a lot of new posts and stories have been written, right after April 11, I fell into the pit of internal submissions and practicals; and I’m currently binging on Something Just Like This (Damn!!! What a song!).
Right now, I have another test on the 9th, then 13th, then alllll the waayyyyy out on the 23rd. And then it’s done. College will be over. All four years of it; the end. I’m feeling optimistic, I’m not sad about it; college ending doesn’t mean I’ll lose touch with college. It stays, in here(points to the little thing called a heart).
A lot of writing, growing and maturity has taken place over the last month; when I couldn’t post. I want to tell you all about it; the Gallery, the act two weeks before that; the writing for the gallery, the concept and so much more. Theatre is a natural stimulant for a writer. Theatre moves away from the strict code of books and moves to more dramatic; and at times more artistic scenes, more abstract and open ended. Theatre allows for one character to be presented in a million ways by a million different actors, which is fuel for a writer, thinking of the million minus one which were not used. Then again, the scenes in theatre are less real and at times go more into the realm of the stage; scenes which only fit well on the stage and not a book. So naturally, when you spend so much time near a stage, your mind starts making scenes and stories which are more abstract and different from a book. You think of your characters as bigger than life rather than in life; you make them what people aspire to be, not how people are. A tinge of perfection to them, the tragic backstory, the ability to decide to act, and the ability to rise above life and its mundanity.
Some of these scenes and qualities you don’t find in books; so it’s important to be close to the stage as well in order to imbue new styles into your characters. For the stage, you need to write differently than the page; the page will leave you on your own with your mind to imagine, the stage makes you peer into the imagination of another.
I’ll go on in a few seperate posts about theatre and its impact, as well as the Theatre Gallery and its process of writing and it’s concept.
I also had my last practical today, which  went terrible, considering I knew more about the subject than 99% others. Bummer. The questions stumped me and left me shocked. But the day is a success, because it’s my sister’s birthday today ( she turns 25), and also coz I WAS IN THE ZONE TODAY!!!!!!!!!! I was on fire, metaphorically. I made terrible jokes, troubled everyone and everything, and then squashed up a golden opportunity to go to Taco Bell (Me sad. I have sad face while typing. I so sad). This is a learning experience, to not give up an opportunity for food which is there for something which could be there. McDonald’s it is now, sigh.
Till next time world, till next time. Till then, I shall be with my cartoonish and deep sullen sadness of compromising for McDonald’s.

Chats- The one at the funeral

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“I guess it’s my turn to speak now. It’s, it’s a huge honor I was asked to eulogize him. Even when going away, he have me the gift of telling me that I was one of his favourite people. Otherwise he would have never asked me to eulogize him.” *Wipes a tear from his eye*
“It is extremely weird to be talking about him, rather than with him. All of us sitting here have heard him talk and talk till litres of water were extinguished by him. We’ve all had one of the best conversations of our lives with him.” *Smiles*
“He loved to talk. There will never be any contest in that.”*Everybody laughs* “In those talks, in those words, more often than not, he gave us all wisdom; some knowledge about the world and how to live better in it. *Takes a long pause*
“I remember this one time we talked about life. We were talking about how so many fear they didn’t take in enough from the world. The greedy, who just kept on taking and taking. No boundaries. All the way till the horizon and beyond.” *Pauses and smiles*
“He said to me they’re all stupid. Idiots who didn’t understand life. I asked him and he said, Life: It’s not what you take, it’s what you give. I couldn’t decipher what he had said. I didn’t understand his words and he just sat there with his smug smile. That classic smirk and posture. Leaning on his left at the sofa, that smile, which told you he knew the answer while you were floundering for it. All of us here will undoubtedly know that posture.”
*Everyone in the audience chuckles*
“So, he tells me to answer. And no matter how smart he was, he was always kind. He never belittled anybody who didn’t know the answer. He gave you freedom and shared the answer with you. I told him my answer: We all remember that story. No matter how much we earn, none of it goes with us. It stays behind. So maybe, it’s related to that.” *Smiles again*
“He comes forward and says, “Partially”. And then he goes on with his answer. I’m paraphrasing, so please bear with me.” *Clears Throat*
“If you keep on taking love from people, or their time, they won’t remember you. You will just be another person who took from them. But when you give people your love, your time, your words, your sorrows, and your happiness; when you make memories with them, they remember you. They talk about you. So, at the end, you’re not remembered for the amount of money you made, or how much the world knew you or about you. You’re remembered by people for what you gave of yourself to them. Life: It’s not what you take, it’s what you give.”
*Smiles and shakes head*
“He gave us all so much. All of us sitting here, he gave us so much of his time, his words, through which he gave us his love. That’s why there are so many of us here.”
*Let’s out a tear*
“He gave so much to so many.
*Turns towards the coffin*
“I love you man. I really do. Thank you for all our chats and your words. They will be cherished, always. Thank you.”


 

The Hapless Romantic

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Grab a pint or two of rum,
And right here won’t you come?
And I will tell you a tale,
By the end of which you will be pale.

In the times of peace,
Lived a hapless romantic,
And in time, he moved to Greece,
Searching for the curse called love.

Found a girl of age twenty,
He was overcome with glee.
With her he found love a plenty,
But in time found she was a he.

Shattered, betrayed, broken,
He drifted to another city,
Travelling with a love unspoken,
And what a pity, right beside the Mississippi.

His dreams turned to dust,
And his fiery love to ashes.
And after many years in the middle of August,
Received so many crashes.

He went away into seclusion,
Away from the cruel cold of December.
Lost himself into an otherworldly illusion,
And the girl from Greece all he could remember.

Stepping outside his prison after years,
He went to the land called Greece,
Facing so many forgotten fears,
He longed for his lost peace.

Desperate for love, even fake,
He soon found out she was happy and gay.
And for his life’s sake,
He flew to a land of frost, far far away.

His time soon came,
With his tale lost in time,
Came a stop to his pain,
To the long lost son of mine.


This has to be one of my most favourite poems ever! I loved writing it, and I love reading it again and again. This was long back in 2012, almost five years. Whew! It feels almost unbelievable to think that it’s been five years since this poem. It feels almost electrifying I guess. Five years. And it doesn’t even seem like that. It feels less, compacted, as though it was less than five years. A noticeable time period, I can place it, but i can’t place it as being so far apart. Five years!
Even after five years, this poem still has that factor. The one which makes me proud that I wrote it and still has that power to tell a story in such few words. Plus, the imagination involved, and the artistic sense, which  I feel I’ve lost a lot in recent times. 
Without a doubt I’m certain everyone will love this poem!
Happy Reading!

Ramblings-Going Away

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Mother always called the Northeast the Shangri-La of India. Lush, calm, serene.
A perfect place for mother to send me to.
A change in scenario to calm my nerves from the bouts of crippling self-doubt I’ve been experiencing. Though I believe mother has a lot to do with it.
She has always pushed me into unknown places and unfamiliar scenarios to punish me. She has always manipulated me into believing there’s something wrong with the city life and the seven sisters will provide me some relief.
Now she’s pushing me away to a place whose geography culture and life is unknown to me. Unknown to all who lived in the city. She wants me to lose myself in a land far far away. It’s scary. I’m scared.


This is the second time I’m posting this piece, for all those who have started following my blog now!
Ramblings was designed to be the first person narratives of people stuck in distressing or awkward situations. I wrote this one for a competition, whose topic was, “The North-East of India”.
Hope everyone enjoys it thoroughly! Happy Reading!