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.

 

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.”


 

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!

Packing(2)

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Finally! I’m all packed and ready to move out of this apartment. Wow! I’m happy I’m leaving.
It’s the people who live above me. All throughout my one year stay in the apartment, they’ve been the weirdest people ever. I think they’re in a cult.
Every night I used to lay down in my bedroom at around eleven. From the floor above, I would always hear these strange sounds. Most of the times it was a hammering sound. Two hammers being pounded, one on wooden furniture and the other on a nail. The hammering was rhythmic and in sync. They seemed like professional hammer music makers.
Other times, it was the sound of furniture or footsteps. The furniture was being moved around. Usually it was wood, with the very full sound it made when it was set on the floor or the more silent hssss sound it made when being slid. There were steel items moved around as well; recognisable by their high pitched mechanical screech. I think they were always pushing the steel around, because it was too heavy to carry. All this furniture was frequently opened and closed as well, making loud bangs each time.
Accompanying all this was the sound of heavy footsteps and hushed chit chat. Like, you guessed, they were in a cult.
It was always fun to think about what was going on up there and laugh. Before sleep gripped me inevitably every night, I always had funny questions. “Why do these people never sleep?” “Why do they make so much noise?” “How buff are their hands with all hammering and furniture moving?” “Are their ears still functioning?”
One night I remember there was the sound of folk music coming from their home. It was in a language alien to me. The music felt nice and sonorous. For a single night, I heard singing and some tinge of happiness in their voices. They felt human. Real people with lives extending beyond incessant hammering and moving furniture around.
A couple of days after the singing, I had the scariest dream I’ve ever had, yet. It was scary for that moment because of just how insane it had become, but I’ve laughed about it ever since.
In my dream, I was peacefully asleep. All of a sudden, I felt as though something fell on my face. A drop of water, but heavier. I moved my hand to clear it. It fell again, this time more. Annoyed, I opened my eyes and cleared my face and switched on my light from beside the bed. I saw a hole in my ceiling, a high pitched song being sung in unison coming from there. There were bangs from a hammer and the hole became bigger; from a crumb to a huge circle in my ceiling. From all around the circle, there were these weird, oval headed, big eyes humanoids looking at me. They all shared malicious smiles on their faces, as though they had been hunting for prey and finally cornered it.
I woke up at that instant. All throughout the part since I’d woken up in the dream, I felt as though I was awake and feeling all of it, not me in the dream.
I knew there was no hole, but I still looked up. I saw there was no hole. I further realised for a change, there was no sound coming from the upper floor. I laughed at the prospect these people slept as well, albeit later.
I went back to sleep eventually. Sleep came, but differently. I remembered how sleeping in complete silence felt like again.
That was the only night when I slept in silence. Now moving out, I hope I’ll have more of these nights.

Random Piece

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It was another hot day in India. The sun was up, so was the temperature. It was the wind that was down. But that never stops the youth from having fun, does it?
In a huge park somewhere in Delhi, there was a group of friends, about 17-18. Huge bottles of coke, snacks and music, the perfect plan, isn’t it? In the loud music, there was a huge boy, dancing with no care in the world. Long hair, a huge beard and extra bulky, wearing a green cargoes and a very baggy white t-shirt. As his friends either danced with him or walked away from his madness, he still didn’t care.
“Wait, guys stop the music,” shouted in his heavy voice.
“What happened?” his friends shouted in unison, surprised at the sudden change in his behavior.
“Quick, keep quiet and turn the music off.”
After a few seconds of the silence, a friend of his, short in height and a bit fat blurted out in equal parts anger and bafflement, “What the hell man?”
“Shhhh…… didn’t you hear that?”He spoke referring to a voice only he could hear.
Suddenly, the stationary hair of all the adolescents started flying in all directions.
“Uh-oh, get back now, everyone,” he shouted, having a serious expression as he performed a back flip. A figure came down at astonishing speed and kicked where the boy was standing, producing a large crack in the park.
“You know, for such a bulky person, you are quite flexible.” The figure exclaimed. He had a rather sly smile, and a not as serious tone. He was tall, but shorter than the boy. He was not nearly as bulky, but boasted a rather moderate build.
The boy only shook his head at his appearance.
“What? Not happy to see me? Last time I checked, you loved a good challenge,” he said.
“I’m out. So you leave.”
As soon as he finished, the man moved towards him with astonishing speed. As he drew his hand out for a clothesline, the boy ducked and rolled behind him. As soon as the man turned, he kicked him in the face.
The man got pushed back a bit. He then recovered and drew his left hand out for a punch, which was blocked by the boy’s right forearm. The man then punched using his right hand, which the boy blocked and then chopped. Seizing the opportunity, the boy struck by hitting his opponent in the face with his elbow.
Soon, the man’s expression started to change to an angrier one. The boy then flipped over the man, grabbing his neck and throwing him on the ground with himself.
As soon as they fell, the man loosened the grip on his neck and quickly jumped to his feet. He then tried to stomp the boy, who successfully dodged it by jumping to his feet. He then delivered a roundhouse kick, causing his opponent to hold his cheek in pain.
“Rather weak, aren’t you?’ The boy said, mocking his opponent’s skills.
The man then rushed towards the boy, his face glowing red with anger. He quickly threw a barrage of powerful punches towards the boy, some he dodged, some he blocked and some hit him hard. Soon the boy started to lose his balance, and fell down when the man pushed him. As he tried to roll away, the man delivered a punt to his head, successfully connecting.
As the boy kept on rolling, he took out a few small pearls from his cargoes and threw them on the ground. As soon as they hit the ground, they produced a lot of smoke.
The man roared, angry at his adversary’s cheap trick
“You see, while you grow tired of theatricality and deception, I am still very fond of it,” the boy smoke in a much more relaxed tone.
As the smoke settled, both of them ran towards each other and exchanged various blows. The boy efficiently released a dagger from his sleeve and proceeded to slash the man a few times.
“No space for wasted moves,” the man said.
The boy took out another dagger and ran towards his opponent. The man threw his heavy right hand at the boy, which he swiftly dodged and then proceeded to stab him with the daggers. One dagger was embedded in his wrist while the other one between his knuckles. Then in a heartbeat, he grabbed hold of the two and kicked the man backwards. The daggers moved through his skin, causing the man to writhe and curse the boy in agony.
The boy then held his daggers in his hands and assumed a battle stance. The man on the other hand, was bleeding profusely.
“I see now, peace didn’t cost you your strength. Neither has victory defeated you. But remember this, you are never out. The Assassins are back, and all the members are back too, even if you left.”
The boy ran towards the man, his daggers ready to slice him open. The man slowly raised his bloodied hand and explosions proceeded to take place. The boy got startled and stopped and a shadowy figure in a fast moving hover board grabbed the man and flew away. The boy simply looked on in bafflement, as did his friends at him and at what just happened.


This is another old piece I wrote waaaayyyy back in 2011, back in school, and it’s 2016, and I’m about to pass college in the next eight months.

This piece feels so happy and innocent to read again. I remember I had started an obsession with action pieces, to write action pieces as fluid and beautiful as the ones in movies and video games and this was an attempt at it!

Happy Reading!

A Heavy Rain

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Hadh ho gai yaar.jpg

It was a torrential rain. A heavy and relentless downpour. It was pounding on the roof like a crazed man pounding on a door. Its echoes reverberated in the building. It filled every room with its noise, forcing us to shout to be heard. I sat in a room full of people who were talking and interacting, all I could think about was the rain.
It fell harder than any rain I had ever experienced before. The lightning flashed in the skies, begetting us all to smile to get our pictures taken. The clouds roared from kilometres away, as if to announce that the rain’s end looms much beyond our ability to traverse it. It feel so hard and cold it would hurt your bones, then cool you down and hurt you even more. It flooded the streets, with waters up to our ankles. It would launch an onslaught on your umbrella, making it harder and heavier to carry.
Most people fear such a rain. They don’t dare step foot into it. They stand under covers, hide in the protection of their homes and gaze outside longingly. As though the tempest is a travesty to be suffered in silence and waiting. It is only a selected few who step forth into such a rain.
They are the ones who can’t be harmed by the rain. Its cold drops won’t hurt them. It would instead bring them joy as the cold drops fell between the tiny spaces in their hairs. They would jump in the flooded streets and the dirty puddles, experiencing the bliss of the cold water dancing in the sky. They let their umbrellas sway breezily from one side to the other as the wind told them to get a little incautious. Let the cold water be graced by ending their long journey by landing on their face.
Everybody knows why such a rain comes. To wash away the scum from the streets. T wash away all the no gooders, the vile and the venomous and the evil from the world.
It was a downpour that would stay in my memory for a long time. The sheer ferocity of I would always liner on in the recesses of my mind. The way it spoke loudly, and the grace with which it did all this. It was a rain that woke everyone up, and made them listen to it. Show them who they were before it went away.


 

Chats-The one with the Two Friends

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1: You have all these songs. But you always skip them on shuffle. Why the hell don’t you delete them?
2: I’ll always keep these songs
1: What the hell? Why?
2: She sent me all these songs when we were together. It’s like, a reminder of her, my connection to her.
1: These songs that you rarely listen to?
2: Well yeah. These songs are what started us off. It was our shared love for Imagine Dragons that brought us together. We were crazy. Up till midnight sending each other songs. Discussing them. Watching the music videos, analysing their meaning. We were crazy kids back in the day.
1: AHHAHAHAHAHAH!! Seriously? Music was what made you two crazy? You sweet, sweet innocent child of mine.
2: Yeah, trust me. Had it not been for those songs, I don’t think I would have ever had a proper way of communicating with her.
1: Seriously?
2: Hell yeah! Had it not been for our shared love of music, we never would’ve gotten so close. That’s what I used to do. Send a song whenever the conversation dulled and then we had something to talk about. And just like that, we used to talk about the universe and its infinite expanse, life and sadness and about us. Somehow, those songs went through us and we weren’t afraid about talking.
1: Wow.
2: And we sent each other all kinds of songs. Rock, pop, English, Hindi, old Bollywood classics, new age Hindi Rock, EDM, you name it, though I never liked the songs she sent. But I never told her, because me liking those songs made her happy, and I didn’t care about anything else or more.
1: Those songs mean a lot to you, don’t they?
2: They do. Each of those songs is her. Every song she sent has her in it somewhere. They preserve her. Because after somebody goes away, it’s what they left you that reminds you of your time with them. I mean, I hate listening to some of these songs, but I love them as well because when I listen to them, I feel with her. Telling her about the songs, how much I like them and seeing her face light up with a grin. Excitedly agreeing and then going off on how much she liked the song. There are her emotions behind some of these songs that these songs assume new meaning and depth.
1: Do you miss her?
2: Yeah, I do. I really do. That’s why I’m glad for the music. It helps you be with people long after they are gone.
1: I’m still confused. Why music? Even after music, you had so many mementos, moments, photographs. Things more tangible. Why music you hate?
2: Because music will always stay with me. Even when I’m ninety. So when I’ll be far away from home or maybe even have dementia at seventy four, I could hear the music and know she’s still watching over me and smiling at me and maybe coming to meet me or waiting for me to meet her.
1: Sucks man. The universe sucks. It’s an absolute whore for taking her. I mean, of all the worthless, good for nothings, it decides on her. What blasphemy.
2: Well, can’t blame it. I mean, the universe has a job as well. It has to be impartial towards it. It cannot care about the consequences and implications. It just cannot care.
1: Which leaves people devastated. For no reason, except the universe is a bitch.
2: Well, still. You can’t bitch and whine about the universe. You can’t possible wage a war against the universe. I mean look at it. It’s huge.
1: So? I say we do it and beat the universe to a pulp.
2: Yeah? Entropy will annihilate us even before we try. Gobble us up and throw us back out.
1: I say screw Entropy man. Screw Relativity. Screw Heisenberg/ We beat up the universe, one atom at a time.
2: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. And how do you suggest we do it?
1: Well, there was this crazy king once, who went to war with Poseidon. So, in order to show Poseidon up, he had his army stab the water. Stab the goddamn water. And that’s what we will do. We’ll stab the air, ourselves, other people, tress, grass, al atoms. To take revenge. Let the universe feel our wrath.
2: BWAHAHAHAHAHA. Oh my god. You can’t be serious?
1: I am. Because that guy was a genius. Because he let it all out. You can’t let the universe take away whatever it wants and then let it hope that it gets away with it. That there will not be r implications or consequences. The universe has to deal with them as well.
2: But it’s futile. Because the universe doesn’t have time for us.
1: So what? You’re saying that we let the universe get away with it and sit idly by?
2: Yes and no.
1: What?
2: We need to let the universe get away with it. We have to allow the universe to not care. Even if it did it in purpose. Because the universe cannot care. Because if the universe started caring, there wouldn’t be any fair thing to do and it would throw itself, and us in a state of perpetual chaos and eventually destroy itself. And it is imperative that the universe outlast us. So as to be a caretaker of everything it encompasses.
1: So, we let it get away with it?
2: Yes. But we don’t sit idly by.
1: What do we do?
2: Now, this is something I truly believe in. You sit back and look up at the clouds. You look hard, really hard. And if you try hard enough, you’ll maybe see a silver lining. A small little reason to be happy and forgive the universe.
1: Why? Why forgive the universe?
2: Because the universe gives us sadness and happiness both. And hating the universe for the bad parts will bring us no good. Instead, we should be thankful to the universe for the good time it gave us and be happy. Live and let live, right?
1: Yeah, but still. It sucks what happened. I mean, it wasn’t right.
2: The universe is unbiased. It sees no right or wrong. It just sees what needs to be done. Even if we feel it’s wrong. We need to let the universe have one, even if it screws up. Be kind, because everyone, including the universe need it.
1: Yeah. Maybe even in taking away the universe gives us something. It gives us nostalgia. Things to live by. Memories.
2: Yeah. Makes sense. And it’s not easy to be pissed off at the universe. I mean, it did make me and her meet right?
1: Yeah, that’s true. But think about it. When it comes down to it, wouldn’t you rather sit with her and chat rather than chatting with me?
2: “Just smiles and continues working”


To everyone who loves talking about the universe. And i know a lot of “The Fault in our Stars” fans and people interested in science will be the ones to grab onto this! Do sound off in the comments below about your feeling regarding the Universe and its infinite grandness!