Labyrinth of Printed Letters

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To Infinity and Beyond…

She walked a little, hopped a little, jumped a little, laughed a lot, ran a lot, climbed a lot, spoke too less though sang too much.

Did she hurt a little? Did she see too much? Maybe she did. Maybe she didn’t. Nobody cared, at least she knew she didn’t. Not anymore. Her chains lie broken on the cold, heartless surface. The mist cleared. A voice was heard. A hand beckoned. Did she take it? Did she reach out for it? Her dream, that she’d been pining to live it, breathe it, for all these years. She was bold. She risked a chance. She had nothing to lose. Nothing to gain. Only go. Go with the flow. No attachments. Not anymore. Enough was enough. They couldn’t drag her back. She had the right to deny. The right to choose. Choose what’s best for her.

She was foolish. She was curious. She was bonded. Forced to be a slave to the demands of society and the people. Now, behind her, lay a deep void of the dark times. Her dark phase. Where hands reached out to her, tried to grab her, to imprison her forever. They told her what to do. Instructed her, demanded of her unwillingness to willingly bow before them. They wanted her to forget herself. They wanted her to repress her ‘vicious’ thoughts of a world of independence. It didn’t exist, they said. It was destructive, they said. It would rip her to shred, they said. They wanted her to be afraid. Afraid of the world beyond those four walls. To venture out, was a taboo. Forbidden. Out of bounds. She was moulded and remoulded to fit in with the rest of them. To do as they told her to. To follow their every command.

She turned bitter, sorrowful, secretive even. If for others, their solace and good times lay within the conversations they had with their fellow beings, then for her, it was spending some time alone on a tree top, high above, away from all the pandemonium. If for others, the ideal place was a disco party with loud noise, then for her, it was in the lap of nature where she found solace. A thought-provoking state, she found. A creative bend, she found. Profound peace, is what she felt.

But was this really her journey? Only her journey? We are social beings, they said. We have to communicate, they said. We have to socialize, they said. What if she was tired of it all? What if she gave up on the mere idea of a conversation that just ended up the same way it begun, to begin with?
Enough was enough, she reminded herself. Now she had her wings, she assured herself. Now was the time to fly, she encouraged herself. And fly she did. She soar across the horizon. Towards infinity and beyond.

Movie Review #1

LISTEN…AMAYA Absolutely loved this film and hats off to the director and the actors, especially Mr. Farooq Shaikh.

A silent cry, is all it takes.
An unspoken word, fulfills its necessity.
A half-truth, is all that it takes.
For a misconception formed, is what results.

We have our ups and downs in life. We all go through it. But do we realize what we gain or lose from it? Do we question ourselves on our reactions? Do we even consider stepping into another’s shoes? Life is said, by many, to be too short. Though it most certainly is, it is actually quite long enough for us to experience all of the emotions that we have been gifted with and the experiences we have been given.

I watched. I cried. I could not repress my emotions. I connected so deeply with the protagonist that I felt like instead of her, it was me who was going through all of those emotions. All of the misconceptions, the angst, the tension, the power of the non-verbal language; it was all me. I could feel exactly what she was feeling. I could vibe with her quite like I would with a soul mate. I could understand what she was going through. I sympathized with her. However realizing, it wasn’t quite enough.

When I saw Amaya fretting over her mother’s love for a man she considered only a friend and Jayant’s reaction to Leela’s plea of talking to her daughter and maybe, be able to find out what made everything go so wrong, it made me finally comprehend something that I had been fretting over for months.
A silent cry speaks of words unsaid and restrained actions.
The unspoken word is something so dangerous that it can quite easily question our self-esteem or even shatter our families, in the long run. It mustn’t be repressed. It needs to be expressed. It needs to be spoken out. It needs to be heard. It must be heard, or the pressure of the consequences can bury us deep within and begin to prod our darker sides.

Though we might not realize it, our actions speak volume. We get so caught up in our own muddled up thoughts, caring only for the little bubble around us we call “personal space,” each one comprehending this in a unique manner, that we forget we live among other fellow human beings who no matter what, are affected by our actions and have emotions too. It takes just a little time-out, to realize this and contemplate over it, and maybe change the way we look at the world.

A little patience, A little faith

It begins with the slightest of disagreements, which turn to dark and unsettling thoughts about the person, which then turns into a craving to turn those thoughts into reality.
I realised that how much ever I despised the person for who he/she is, I can do absolutely nothing about it. Yes, we all want to see them breaking inside, bit by bit or see them fail at life or see them being bullied instead, but that’s not why we were given the opportunity to live a lifetime on this beautiful planet. It’s not our job to set people right. It mustn’t be out concern to make people understand, because not everybody is like us.
Well, I realised that as much time as it takes for us to build a fortress of dark and dangerous thoughts around the person that we hate, but more so ourselves, it takes less than even half of that time to forgive that very person. We may not realise it but the satisfaction we get by harming another being to bring ourselves “apparent satisfaction” actually doesn’t bring us any satisfaction. Ultimately, we just destroy our souls little by little until we have absolutely nothing left of our former selves within us.
It’s acceptable to feel envious, frustrated with life or even give up on it altogether, but ultimately, these are just phases we all go through. Give it some time and you’ll get over them. We don’t need to rack our brains or bash others brains out to “express ourselves.” We have other non-violent methods for them and all we need is a little faith and a little patience.

MoreRealisations TimeIsOfTheEssence

Needles & The Land Above

Quite a few people understand the pitter patter of the rains. I interpret it in my own little ways.

While people fuss about the rains, I say, “Rain, rain, come again. Go away some other day. Kids like me want to play, in the rain, every day.” (I beg to differ, when it comes to poetry)

I see my friend cowering from the rains while I step out of the shelter and head-bang to Radioactive. I see a kid running away from the “needles falling from the sky” while I welcome the droplets flowing in the wind and embrace them like an old friend. I see a lady anxiously waiting for the skies to stop wailing while I hear the rains humming a lullaby of their own and synchronising to perfect harmony.

I feel the wind ruffling my hair and smile to myself. Usually, I would’ve been annoyed but I couldn’t care less about the playful mien of the winds.I feel joy as the rains caress my face. I zone out as my head creates yet another image of myself in the land of the Horizon, where the grey meets the ocean blue and where the ashen clouds meet the cotton white….

The puddles I see on the pavement remind me of portals to a parallel universe. I hope into one, despite of being fully aware of the fact that after my crazy impulse, I will regret taking this decision and walk back home with leech-like soggy clothes stuck to my body.

As the rains take a break, I look up at the sky and everything seemed to be coming back in place and becoming clearer with every passing moment, like a jigsaw puzzle. I see the sharp outline of the highest towers. I see the contrasted green of every leaf against the grey background. Everything dull seems to become brighter, more immaculate and more vivacious somehow, against the apparent grey of the lands above.

To me, even the grey seems like a darker tone of white or a lighter shade of black. It isn’t drab and boring. It’s not dull anymore. It’s in the spotlight. It’s the heart and soul of the party. It’s where my emotions are mitigated. It is my vestibule to catharsis.

RAIIIIIIINS MonsoonLove

An Analisation

She is frustrated and finds it irksome when even the smallest of things are out of place in her little world. She has trust issues owing to her past, maybe wrong, misconceptions. She is frightened and does her best to hide her fears so she comes out as a fearless and bold woman. She cracks jokes and seems carefree to the turbulence around her. She fills the pit of gossip as much as she deems worth narrating. She keeps a cool head when things began to heat up. She is a pressure cooker when the circumstances don’t favour her.

She’s afraid to open her heart out to this cruel world. What if she was misjudged? What if she was used? What if her friends left her for who she really was? She is insecure. ‘Optimism’ seems to have been torn out of her dictionary. She makes and breaks her life from time to time. She moves forward, no matter what obstructs her path, though not necessarily overcoming it.

She feels the constant clash between her angel and her demon, the common notion being “the good side” and “the bad side.” She is unyielding to her angel, because it’s just so hard. In the spur of the moment, she is beleagued by the demon inside her and left at the mercy of the monster gnawing at her conscience.

She realises, contemplates, regrets, resents herself, but as the next day arrives, she’s back to square one.

Lectures? Phhsssst!

Nobody wants to listen to a boring lecture in class when you could just stare out the window and feel the vibe of the nature.
The light green, the blue, the ashen grey, the off-white, the grey, the white. A spot of yellow here, a sprinkle of red there. A face. A grin here. A frown there. A mix of colours. There is a vibrant feel to the environment. There seems to be a voice beckoning me to join them. To soar into freedom. To break free my bonds from this cage filled with nonchalant, blatant creatures.

This is the beginning of a cheerful and optimistic day, in the box.

I hear a low note. A subdued whisper. A grave tone. A high-pitched note. An excited laughter. An obnoxious sound. A lot of giggling. The pitiful howl of a dog. I press my palms against my ears, as if that could stop the noise around me. Then, I smell a sweet fragrance. A foul smell. The smell you smell when a whole bunch of humans have been dumped into one single room for hours.

A classroom.

Finally, I dwell on how I feel. I feel annoyed. I feel someone prodding me. Everything shatters around me and I’m dragged back to reality. The class starts. I try hard to stay focused but instantly feel myself being tugged and pulled, yet again. I give in without a moment’s hesitation. I turn my head towards the window and find myself looking at a face. An amused face. It doesn’t make sense to me, but I smile to myself. Something seems to have roused the winds and the leaves change pattern. Now I look at a frown and instantly ask myself, feeling guilty for no apparent reason, “What did I do now?” I turn away as I hear a thud.

I find a boy under a huge tree. I wonder what he climbed the tree for, for his hands were empty. Maybe he held a meeting with the tree spirits or maybe, he must be an under-cover agent. What an “under-cover kid agent” would be doing inside the school grounds at noon, did not strike me as strange at all, at least not while I was zoned out. My imagination goes haywire by the possibilities of a boy atop a tree.

My attention is caught, yet again, by three girls snickering in the corner of a building. Each of them carries a yellow-red scarf in one hand and something shiny in the other. On closer observation, I notice that it’s a silver pendant. One of them holds her’s high up in the air and that’s when I see it. A perfect circle in half, enclosed within a triangle: The Deathly Hallows. After staring at the Potterheads, my eyes drift away and land on a bug on the window sill. I gaze at it but my curiosity gets the better off me and I stretch my hand to touch it. Wrong move; it flies away. I hear kids shouting in the distance and smell a heavenly fragrance wafting from somewhere.

Food.

I hear my stomach grumble.

I see so much of freedom outside. There seem to be no rules to be adhered to. If only I could step out of this cage where we are supposedly absorbing knowledge. Outside is like the “do as you wish, at your own risk” zone. That is as idealistic as it can get.

I stare at the clouds for a long time, for I see a beautiful tree in them, one that I can climb and reach up to the highest branches. It triggers my memories of when I was an eight-year old kid, lost in her own little world, with no knowledge of the dangers of climbing a tree and simply climbing higher and higher for the fun of it.

It’s queer, yet fascinating, what different people see through their eyes. Every individual sees every object in a different light. They experience the same emotions but handle them in the ways they know best. As the lecturer in my class drones on I realize, that in our dreams, or in this case, day-dreams, we do indeed enter a world made entirely of our own.

JustClassroomThings

Music Is All There Is…

Music. An infinite universe where one may find acceptance while another may find true happiness. She might find a best friend, while he might find an enemy.

I hear soft music, which gradually begins to change and turn shape into something new, something better, something soothing. Something that I find solace in. Every person has a unique taste in music. Some people might not enjoy fusion or jazz. Some other’s worlds could be made entirely of pop or electronic music.
As I sat in the music room of my school, my ears pricked to the sound of the electric guitar. I couldn’t keep my mind off the sound. I could feel the music resonating throughout my body. I felt like music was a part of me. I seemed so lost in its wonders, I couldn’t focus on anything else. It seemed to have captured my soul, like very many, in its beautiful enchanted web.

It’s funny how music can change the way a person looks at the world. For some, music is their sweet escape to paradise. For some others, it’s an elusion. Music has the power to repair a broken heart, to replace a fellow human being, to console like no other. It accepts you the way you are and pulls you into a warm embrace, when you feel deserted. It is that friend who sticks to you through all your ups and downs when you are companionless. When the world turns its back to you, music is all that is there for you.

PowerOfMusic

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