Movie Review- Shubh Mangal Saavdhan

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Ayushmann Khurana is on a roll this year. He kicked off the year with Meri Pyaari Bindu in May, Bareilly ki Barfi in August, and now Shubh Mangal Saavdhan (SMS) in September. If one actor is rocking this year with great roles in amazing movies, it’s Ayushmann Khurana (Also, I’m a certified Ayushmann Khurana fanboy!).Ayushmann Khurana is on a roll this year. He kicked off the year with Meri Pyaari Bindu in May, Bareilly ki Barfi in August, and now Shubh Mangal Saavdhan (SMS) in September. If one actor is rocking this year with great roles in amazing movies, it’s Ayushmann Khurana (Also, I’m a certified Ayushmann Khurana fanboy!).
Just like Ayushmann Khurana’s Vicky Donor tackling the issue of sperm donation in India, SMS tackles the issue of Erectile Dysfunction and the stigma surrounding it. It doesn’t talk about the disease or how it happens or its cure, but it sheds light on the impact ED has on the person having it and the people around him.
SMS treats the subject of ED with utmost respect and dignity. It doesn’t make comedy at its expense or give it a quick magical fix. Ayushmann Khurana’s Mudit Sharma is struggling with under confidence and coping with his shattered self-esteem; all the while running around trying to find a cure for his ED, going as far as suggesting his future wife, Sugandha (Bhumi Pednekar) they break of their marriage since he would be unable to keep her happy.
There are so many psychological effects that something like ED has which we all fail to realise when we think about it.
The fmailies of Mudit and Sugandha react differently, but authentically to the news of Mudit’s ED.
Sugandha’s parents, Seema Bhargava and Brijendra Kalra are worried her daughter will be unable to have a fulfilling life with a husband who has ED and the blame and pressure which the society will put on her, not her husband who is the one who has a problem. All throughout the film, they are trying to get Mudit’s ED cured or breaking off the marriage for their daughter. Mudit’s parent’s reactions are more diverse. His father cannot obviously digest the fact that his son can’t get it up, and resorts to blaming Sugandha for the problem. He even goes as far as to get Sugandha married to a Banana tree to cure his own son’s ED; precisely what Sugandha’s father wanted to save her from.
Mudit’s mother on the other hand is aghast; she can’t believe it because she knows Mudit could masturbate before meaning Mudit’s ED is psychological. But like all mother’s, she is supportive of her son throughout.
When both the sets of parents keep on intervening and interfering, it is the children who step in between and tell them to stop. Both of them stand up to their parents for their own decisions and do things on their own terms, which they feel are right.
In Mudit, Ayushmann Khurana brings out the vulnerability and essence of the common man, without overdoing it. Hi face, more often than not tells what he is going through and how much he’s struggling.
The undeniable star of the film is Bhumi Pednekar and her character, Sugandha. Sugandha is the heart of the film. She is the reason why Mudit even tries so hard; why Mudit actually tries to cope with his shattered self-confidence and esteem, fighting against everyone who comes his way. She is a bold, strong character and makes you in awe of the human spirit. The lengths she goes to for her marriage to Mudit, despite the pain she feels, her optimism about Mudit’s ED, and the lengths she goes to make Mudit feel okay about his ED and help him overcome it anyway possible. Her story when seen in isolation is a tear jerker; the length she goes to for Mudit are length most people wouldn’t even go for themselves.
There is a scene where she takes Mudit to a picnic to try and overcome his ED.  It starts off funny, but gets too intense too fast and made the entire audience go silent from laughter in seconds out of respect for her emotions.
SMS is also one of the year’s funniest movies. It oozes comedy in funny scenes, and is able to inject a dose of comedy in intense situations. But it never makes any fun at ED and its effect, which is commendable, given how easy it is to make ED into a topic for slapstick comedy and one liner.
All the characters in SMS themselves are half or ¾ crazy, leading to some awesome double meaning jokes and insanely humorous conversations. You might never see Alibaba as the same ever again.
While one of the leads has a tough time getting it up, you are able to get your sense of humor, happiness and social awareness levels up (What a bad joke XD). It is definitely one of the funniest and most eye opening films of this year.

Rating-3.5/4

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Energized Efforts

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This is such a tacky name for an article, but it suits what I’ve to say.  For everyone following my blog, there is some amazing news! I’m working on a new logo for my blog, and it should be up and ready within the next week, after which I’ll start Instagram, Facebook, be more active on Twitter and maybe start writing on Reddit and more on MyTrendingStories (I’ve fallen in love with Reddit over the past few months, especially random reads on NoSleep).

Plus, I’m working (albeit lazily) on my novel (Still untitled, and I can’t properly reveal what it is about, since I haven’t defined it properly) and a new short story, called The Assassination. Writing a novel is not easy, especially when you’re battling sleep deprivation and boredom and the incessant pressure of what is to become of your life. Plus, there is always the struggle that writing is only 10% writing and 90% thinking and ideation and refinement; all the things which become tiresome just too soon; so it’s a perpetual challenge to go past the 90% to write to your heart’s content.

Also, yesterday I checked and turns out that my theme, BonPress is no longer used and has been depreciated, so I’ll be giving the blog a facelift as well (for the time being, since I still utilize the free plan).

Plus, I’ve read a couple of amazing books, and I’ve played Uncharted 4, Horizon Zero Dawn and fallen back in love with Witcher 3: The Wild Hunt, so expect more gaming on the blog. Maybe, just maybe, I’ll also start a Youtube Channel, which will focus on gaming and video blogging. The Youtube channel is still speculation, but it’ll be fun to do it though.

That’s it for today. Happy Reading!

The Eyes

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The Eyes

They had been in love for years. But in the middle, their flame had burned down. They didn’t love each other like they used to. Their talks became bland and boring. They didn’t enjoy going out anymore. Little shows of care, of love were magic; but they too had ceased to have any impact. They were caught in a rut, and they knew it. They were nostalgic, longing for a time gone by, but they were caught in a rut and didn’t know what to do.
Except one day, they started talking, and it was just like before. The magic, the love came back, and the nostalgia cracked off their lives. It was just what they had been searching for. She knew how it came back, but he was happing knowing that it was back; not caring how.
In the middle of their rut, their nostalgic frenzy for how things were, she met someone. She would talk to him, and feel all the things she did before. The excitement, the care, the spontaneity; all the things which disappeared for her and her great love. But with him, they were all there.
He helped her. She tried bringing back what she was with him, but by the time she got back to where she needed, it would all fall off her, as though washed away by the rain of life without him. Slowly, she fell in love with him. Or maybe how she felt with him. But, she felt love in some capacity.
Their time however was, brief. Before long, he died. Hit by an out of control vehicle. She met him one final time when his eyes were about to close. She saw him, looked into his eyes, let out a silent wail and let him go.
After that, she went to the rut with her great love. But somehow, she found how she was with him. The rut started going away, what they needed to find had been successfully, found.
Her great love was happy that incessant repetition of the mundane had got the, back where they were never considering the mechanics of its working. But she knew. She knew their rut always loomed when she didn’t look him straight in the eyes when talking; which he took as a sign of love.
It was those eyes which reminded her, of him. Her great love and him, both had the same eyes. When she looked into those eyes, she was transported into a private dimension where she was with him, not her great love. It was the eyes, she knew, why they were able to find what was needed to be found.

Book Recommendation-Click by Rom and Ori Barfman

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Don’t all of us remember the time when we just Clicked with someone? You were with someone, sitting or standing or walking, and you started talking and it all felt perfect. Like all the stars aligned and the planets too were aligned and it was an event of great cosmic significance. It was all perfect. You could pour out all you wanted to, without being afraid of seeming clingy or emotional or weird, and the other person reciprocates. You both were on some different plane of existence, and you just got each other.
That is a Click. That magical moment, when you and the other person just, get each other. It could be set off with even a small spark, like some words exchanged in an office, or maybe sitting across each other in a table, or just a random conversation about anything, or shared adversity. Anything.
A click seems pretty simple. You talked, and magic happened. And from there on, the magic took over the entire relationship and you knew you would be with the person for at least forever. But we all know that. What we all don’t know, is what goes behind a Click? A Click is such a rare and simple phenomenon, which happens to all of us in our lives, but we never know how or why it happens. We pass it off as serendipity. Click, the book talks about how Clicks take place. What are the factors involved in it, and how small things, which we often think insignificant or uncomfortable lead to people Clicking.
Honestly, this book is fantastic. I’ve read it twice and what it teaches is fantastic. More importantly, easily applicable in everyday life. A major part of what it talks about is how people come together, Click or not. Not every conversation leads to a Click, but that doesn’t mean that conversation can’t take you forward. It tells you various little nuances of the human mind, such as proximity, similarity, the quality of conversation, personality, environment and how these impact human nature and the way we come close to people.
Clicking is not a very well defined research area; hence a lot of what Rom and Ori talk about in the book comes from personal experience rather than being backed up by statistical data or scientific evidence. So, people who like data and proof whether such things work will need to take a leap of faith. I can vouch for the experiences, since I’ve used many of the techniques in my life.
Vulnerability, one of the first concepts, rarely suited me. Because I used to feel fake being vulnerable at will with someone else; and because I don’t bond well over vulnerabilities, usually. Proximity, on the other hand I’ve seen the effects first-hand. Being in the centre of the line and the end have a lot of impact on how many people you can talk to, and hence Click with. Environment, undoubtedly one of the biggest factors for conversation; and we all know its impact and use.
Even for a causal read, Click offers a lot of insight into how we can better ourselves and make better connections. Because all of us, want to feel good, and make the other person feel good as well, till the time it is the person who licks the teacher’s behind (Let’s face it. We all hate these people). Because awkward conversations make us feel weird as well. Because all of us wouldn’t mind being friends with everybody we can be (or be respected by them, if not liked).
There is nothing much more to say about this book, because it really doesn’t talk about much; rather than me writing it in short form, it would be better to read straight from the book itself. It’s a good book, and also substitutes as good advice to better your personality.

Movie Review- Lipstick Under My Burkha

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Lipstick Under My Burkha is an important movie, just like Pink from last year. Just like schools have recommended readings, this is a film which should be a recommended watch for everyone, especially India. It portrays how the peace of most Indian houses is founded upon the burial of desires of Indian women.
Most Indian women have desires which they could not fulfil when they wanted to, or usually before marriage (Because marriage in India has a lot of complications for the women, such as a wife going back to her parent’s house is “Something wrong has happened in the household.”) But then again, desires are never truly finished. They can crop up at any age and stage. Desires aren’t bound.
But above all, women are restrained, physically, emotionally and sexually, and they aren’t allowed to live their life completely. A part of them must always be secretive, scared, afraid, constantly aware and second guessing for wanting to fulfil their desires.
Desires can be simple as well as complex. Hey can be something as simple as living a life wearing jeans and modern clothing rather than a Burkha; or having a sexual relationship at the age of 55. It can be something as forbidden as having a job, or as fundamental as wanting to leave a place behind and go away from it. However, fulfilling these desires is out of bounds, and getting caught has consequences. Not those movie consequences, where everything becomes alright and people make up. There are real world implications; places from where people can never come back from, and decisions which can never be reversed.
What makes Lipstick so important is that it shows four real non-sexualised non-caricatured in the real world without sugar-coating of any sort. It shows how women have desires; how many times these desires are the cause for conflict. How these desires make the remaining qualities of a woman immaterial, and it makes them unbecoming of a woman and shameless (Because women are always supposed to have shame. Men, not so much. They can be, and are usually forgiven on account of it being okay for men to be shameless.) Even the act of buying a condom for safe sex is a shameless act for a woman.
Lipstick follows four different women but closely related women in their lives. Usha Bhuaji (Ratna Pathak Shah), a 55 year old woman who rediscovers her sexuality. Rihana Abidi (Plabita Borthakur), a Muslim college going girl who wants more than the confines of her Burkha and parents. Shireen Aslam (Konkana Sen Sharma), a saleswoman who has troubles at home. Leela (Aahana Kumar), a girl who dreams of getting away from the confines of Bhopal. All of these women live in the Hawai Mahal, of which Bhuaji is the owner and the rest are tenants. (I’m forgetting the correct name. Apologies).
All four women are organic and their stories are relatable. They aren’t the stories of some obscure origin. Most people will be able to relate to them. They are powerful and moving, but most of all, they are true.
There are so many scenes in the film which portray how austere the oppression of women is. In one scene, Rihana dancing with no care in the world is deemed blasphemous enough by her parents to lock her in her room. In her room, Rihanna has a secret life where she idolises Miley Cyrus (Now, where have I ALSO seen a double life, lol).
Lipstick is a film about women, and it shows them as humans, rather than as perfect beings who are always right and without flaws and vices. The women in Lipstick are often on the wrong side of things, do things which are condemnable and vengeful. But we are not here to judge these women. We are here to simply peer into their lives and see the kind of restrictions they fight against on a daily basis. In addition, the prices these women pay for their desires are far greater than those paid by men. So we truly, have no right to judge them. We must simply accept them to be as flawed as men.
Alankrita Shrivastava, writer and director of Lipstick does a magnificent job in capturing the things which signify how women are oppressed. There are things which even I had no idea about. There is also the thing of how women in their quest for desire are also afraid of other women ratting them out.
Lipstick Under My Burkha is one of the most powerful movies of this year. Period. Nothing anyone says or does can take this away from Lipstick. If you haven’t watched this film, do it. If you are planning to, great. If you’re not, change it. If you think this movie is a sex-fest, it’s not. If you think this is a movie about empowering women or feminism, it’s not. If you’ve watched this movie, you’ve already felt its impact. If you’ve watched this movie and think it’s stupid or senseless, change your thinking.


 

The London Food Diaries

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So, here I am, in London! It’s been 4 days since my grand arrival to this land of different food and landscapes and buildings. Even before I got here, I knew I would be busy clicking photos of all the food items and shops and notebooks I see and buy here. So, on Sunday night, it struck me. Why not do a whole series of it, on Instagram, Twitter and the blog? I love food, and pictures, and so many people do it, why shouldn’t I also do it in my free time? It will be a great way to spend free time, since it’s tough to write here (I’ve written 2 minutes in the last five days).
So, then I decided I would start the London Food Diaries. Even though it is called Food Diaries, it will include photos of the magnificent buildings, the road side, the Harry Potter WB Tour( Awwwww yessss!! Potter-philes, get excited), the Disney Store and a lot of Star Wars goodies (You didn’t think I would include Harry Potter and leave out Star Wars. Tch Tch Tch.), notebooks which I’ve bought, and of course, food.
I haven’t really thought how I’ll integrate all this into the blog, but I have a clear idea how I’ll do it for Instagram.
Also, I’ll soon be starting a new Instagram account for the blog in some time.
Till then, all the pictures will be on my Instagram profile – shrey_ahuja (hyperlinked with my profile), You can search me on Insta as shrey_ahuja . It’ll be a pseudo-intellectual picture of me trying to appear smart, along with a “Joey doesn’t share food” tagline and a link to the blog.
Right now, I have to go for breakfast, because there is amazing breakfast options here, it’s already 9 AM here and everyone wants to go out. So, I’ll start posting when I come back from hanging around today. Till then, Au revoir.
Happy Reading!

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.