Dream-catcher

AN: Dismal day today. Current mood can be captured by A Fine Frenzy’s ‘Goodbye my Almost Lover’.

The dream-catcher came in a little

blue box with silk wrapping

and a satin ribbon, my fingers

gently

clasping the little

strings of hope

woven together

in a cacophony of connections

and I hid it under my pillow

as I closed my eyes,

hoping,

that this time

when your dimpled smile and

shaggy hair starred in my dreams,

it may do what I

could not

catch

you.

Hidden Conversations

“GO” I screamed.

Please don’t, my heart whispered.

“But…” he stuttered.

I don’t want to, his heart pleaded.

“I love you.” he mumbled.

Me too, my heart ached.

“Well, I don’t.” I snapped.

Don’t lie, his heart beseeched.

“Okay, then.” we said together

wiping our hands clean off dust

I’ll miss you, our hearts chimed together

silent fractures achingly exposed

You should leave, now.

I need you by my side.

I’ll collect my belongings tomorrow.

Don’t break my heart like this!

It’s all for the best.

My world is falling apart.

Good luck, then.

Hug me and say it’ll be okay.

Goodbye.

Goodbye.

Goodbye.

Goodbye.

The sounds of the man

and the sounds of the woman

and the sounds of their hearts

echoed forever in

the strange silence

that followed

and

never left.

Today, I promise.

I saw you wipe your red-rimmed eyes today, when you thought nobody was looking.

You quickly dabbed the edges of your monogrammed silk kerchief at the edges of your eyes, and plopped it back into your bag, in a matter of seconds. You pasted on that huge smile, flashing your pearly-white teeth at your friends, as you spoke about how much you adored that year’s Fall Collection. You watched as your friends lightly tapped your elbow, and you cringed slightly as they leaned into you doubled with laughter, but you smiled anyway. You thought I hadn’t seen your eyes, but I had.

I heard you throwing up in the wash room today, when you thought nobody was listening.

Your tender milky knees were on the floor, and you continued, without heeding to the purple swirly bruises that were now forming. You chose the stall when the bathroom was empty, but you tried to be silent, nevertheless. You slowly and steadily deposited your favorite pasta you had bought earlier from the store across, and you wiped your burning mouth afterwards. You made sure you used the perfume softly, listening against the graffiti-filled door of the stall for anyone outside, your head spinning just the slightest. You thought I hadn’t heard your noise, but I had.

I know that you contemplated killing yourself today, when you thought nobody would know.

You tried hard to fight the black monsters raging within your bones, but decided to finally listen to them. You felt the sharp edge of the knife against your finger, testing and deciding. You walked to the balcony, hands running on the railing, and wondered if it would hurt too bad or feel like flying. You wondered if it was true about drowning- lungs bursting and absolute misery- and vaguely registered that even that sounded less painful than what you were experiencing. That any amount of pain would be better than the cold numbness that had settled within you. You know that had it not been for the shrill call of the telephone, you may not have stopped yourself. You thought I didn’t know your darkness, but I knew.

I saw and I heard and I knew. I am time, you see, my dear. You try to box me into seconds and minutes and hours, but I am un-boxable. I am infinity. I stretch along, holding each one of you in my never-ending arms.

And believe me when I say- Your heart doesn’t have to stop beating to stop hurting. Trust in me and trust in yourself and all will be well. Your laugh will one day actually have happiness, and your food one day will actually reside in your belly, and the knives in your kitchen one day will only be used for chopping vegetables.

Today, I saw you and I heard you and I know you.

But tomorrow! Tomorrow, I promise you, You will see you and You will hear you and You will know you.

And eventually, You will learn to love you.

—-

You

I choose

you

you with the smile like warm butter on toast

you with the eyes like a time machine

you with the hands like fluttering butterflies

you with the words like soothing balm

you with the voice like satin ribbons

you with the heart like an iron wall

you

always

unfortunately

you.

The Bucket List

The hair is gone

I watch

as she chops it off

and it falls down the sides of my face

like a snowfall of brown

I try not to choke

as I remember the times

when you’d run your fingers

through them

and tell me they smelled of strawberries

and now,

my love,

your strawberries lay at my feet

rotten and dead.

I’m sorry.

I look back at my

reflection

“Dear, it’s all done.”

she whispers.

I wince slightly,

as my head reflects the light

shiny in it’s new landscape

bumps and endless stretches

of bald pavement

“I look like an egg.”

I joke,

she laughs,

but I see the tear.

Life is short,

I know,

trust me.

And so is my bucket list.

It reads thus:

‘Let happiness make you cry’

I want to

bubble over with laughter and

joy

so much so that the emotion

marries

my soul

and my tear-ducts

give their

blessing.

I want other things, too.

Time, firstly.

Time to spend with you

tracing

your spine

and laughing at your geeky

jokes.

I want time to create more memories

like the kind

when we spotted an owl during

a midnight swim

and the kind

where we lay entwined

indistinguishable as two separates

and smiled

into each others beings.

I also want,

selfishly,

a baby.

(she’d have your eyes, darling.)

A little token to leave you with.

Without this

to give you,

only one thought races through my head.

-Sweetheart,

when I’m gone,

will you forget me?-

And then,

when my moment of daydreaming

comes to an end,

after everything,

I think

of only one more thing,

my love,

your gentle, patient face

shadows under your eyes

as you held my hand

last week

so bravely

and now, the sound of your

tapping feet

from outside the room

as you wait to see your

egg-headed wife

and smile encouragingly

(as i know you will),

and I ask,

-Sweetheart,

when I’m gone,

will you forgive me?

Make A Wish

The sunlight landed on the streamers

taped clumsily across the wall

chocolate frosted cake on the table

twenty pairs of eyes blinked at me

hands clapping in glee

“Make A Wish. Blow the Candle”.

mum’s voice blew into my ear

And I wished

that i could eat the icecream

from the cart

across the park

and I wished that

she would buy me that blue

car I had seen in the store.

A group of giggling teenagers

sat huddled across

on a warm bed sharing

snacks and stories

“It’s 11:11! Make A Wish”

they whispered,

And I wished,

that I was more thinner

and less freckled

and that the boy with the

hair like gold

and eyes like emeralds

would walk over and

say hi.

It was a long drive

over endless plains and

the dark sky was lit by

stars scattered

we stopped for a while,

laid down on the sand,

“It’s a shooting star! Make A Wish!”

he pointed,

And I wished,

that my dead baby would

come back gurgling

and playing in my arms

and that

my heart would

start

feeling again.

The fountain was crowded

by hopes and dreams

and I clutched the

penny

skeptically in my palm

“Throw the coin. Make A Wish.”

the signboard promised

and tears in my eyes

and a fervent prayer on my lips,

I wished,

I wished hard to go back

to those times

when my only

wish was

something to eat

&

something to play with.

Queen

We’re all queens. (And Kings.) Please remember that 🙂

Queen.

My chin trembles a little but I hold it higher still
My smile is stuck forever, I’ve swallowed a happy pill.
The fingers they point at me blur into the distance
and the butterflies in my tummy run and prance
For i’m happy and i’m sad
and i’m moody and i’m mad
and i’m in love and I hold grudges
and it’s me who jumps and trudges
and I twirl and I fly
as I take off into the sky
and when I finally land
feet sinking into the sand
I look around and notice
everything that I’d never miss.
I’ve learnt that I’d be my only constant
Everybody else came and went.
And So i began to love my own ways
I sit joyful in my own happy place.
Soon, the accusing eyes begin to turn away
And I spiral into my bubble of bliss, hey!
Look, My gown swishes against the floor
and the doorman grandly opens the door
And I’ve wiped away all traces of a frown
Because I’m wearing my invisible crown.

Inspiration

Before you begin reading what is sure to be a long-ass post, go and check out the tagline of the blog. It says something along the lines of Photography, musings and a bit of crazy with a weird emoticon accompanying it.

So I believe I’ve covered a lot of Photography in the past couple weeks ( I’ve also stuck to my new year resolution of more portrait photography, so yay!) and the ‘crazy’ element is always there. What’s missing? The musings !

HERE I AM AT LONG LAST. Truth be told, I haven’t had much time to sit and ramble out loud but I’m going to do it right now.

‘Stay Inspired’ is a theme I really liked because I think if I could give any advice to anyone from any country belonging to any religion and believing in anything in the whole wide world, it would be these two extremely profound words.

What does it mean? You can interpret it in any way you like. My personal inspirations range from amazing poets like Pablo Neruda and E.A.Poe to legend*waitforit*dary TV show characters like Barney Stinson, because everybody in this world has some quality in them that I admire. (Fine, maybe not everybody…)

Are you feeling really low today? Do you feel like the world just kicked you deeper into the sand? Did you just break-up with someone, or lose a competition you wanted to bag?

Did you just get rejected…again?

That’s okay. There’s going to come a time, and I speak from personal experience, when you can look back and the rejections make sense because they simply led you to a better opportunity.

‘Stay Inspired’ is very important in the global scenario today. Everyday we hear news about plummeting airplanes and wars and crashing economies, and everyday the world seems to get dimmer. Some people grumble about this, some get really angry, some get depressed, and some forget about it.

Stay Inspired is about believing that you have what it takes to overcome your troubles. Stay Inspired is about believing that good times are coming soon. Stay Inspired is about having a mature and more accepting attitude towards differences. Stay Inspired is all about YOU, and have YOU decide to change the world…because you CAN.

“Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot,
Nothing is going to get better. It’s not.”
— Dr. Seuss (The Lorax)

 

 

Lessons from School

My college starts in two weeks, and that’s a really absurd feeling. And yes, by absurd I mean anxious+excited+nostalgic+happy+creeped+relieved. At the biggest moments in your life, when you can sense that change is right around the corner, you tend to look back and assess the damages. What has been my life so far? How many people did I hurt? (Did they totally deserve it xD) Have I changed? Learnt anything ?

As children, we spend most of our lives at school. The classroom whose walls bear (along with cracks, of course) our scribbled drawings and footprints and the mark where someone accidentally splattered paint. The desks where the romantic couple scrawls S+P or T+A in a little heart, and the blackboard- Countless hours spent staring at the blackboard, memorizing every little nook and corner to avoid reading what’s actually been written.

It makes you wonder, doesn’t it? Because to me it feels that all my life, I’ve studied for a test, written it and forgotten everything xD (It’s not just me, go refer: Teenager Post) And looking back, it all seems so arbitrary. I could once recite the periodic table in my sleep, and now. Okay lemme try. Hydrogen Helium Lithium Beryllium Boron Oxygen (??) Carbon Fluorine…Okay, so I muddled up. But at this point, I can tell you all of Fayol’s principles of management without batting an eyelid. I can tell you about how inflation affects the GDP and how money printed abundantly without caution can kill an economy.

It changes. And maybe, if I stopped studying this for a year, I’d forget these too. Which begs the question, what did we REALLY learn from school.

Things I learnt from school:

1) My ABCDs: Okay, so maybe that came in handy.

And the number system and basic addition and multiplication that helps when you calculate the change you need to receive from the auto driver. 😛

2) Fractions: I can now divide a cake between my 4 friends fairly. [I get 4/5th and they each get a third of the remaining one fifth 😉 ]

3) The Punctuation Marks. They come in very handy for emoticons. 🙂 ._. ;_; 😐 heheh.

4) Defending yourself to a teacher will ALWAYS be construed as answering back, and shall ALWAYS send you out the classroom.

5) Nobody goes to the school restroom to pee.

6) That the best memories you make are the ones that get made when you have absolutely no clue you’re making them.

7) #justindianschoolthings Classes aren’t classes, they are fish markets.

8) Lunch breaks are never long enough, and if you’re with your best friends, you rarely eat your own food. It’s a picnic, m8.

9) My school taught me that age didn’t matter for friendship. Well, actually while I learnt this AT my school, it had little in actually teaching it to me, but. We have friends of all ages. In fact, one second grader named Meher actually considers me her older sister ^.^ Watching her and the other kids run to us from the end of the quadrangle is a lovely feeling, because kids love you for who you are. They don’t judge you, they’re just glaringly honest.

10) That you make the best friends of a lifetime at this place. That the classes I’ve bunked were worthwhile because the real lessons were taught outside the classroom. You get defeated and broken a million times, you fail in several tests, you are the social reject…these are challenges you learn to overcome in high school.

When we graduated, our entire batch stood on the stage, holding candles in our hand in a dimmed room. We  were all dressed differently, in shining and elegant and gorgeous saris and crisp, handsome suits. And yet, in the dark, holding the candles, the parents pride reflected in our glimmering eyes- we all looked the same. We all looked hopeful.

And so take it from me, school-goers. It’s okay to bunk a class to go watch a movie with a friend. It’s also okay to sit in the front row of the algebra class, hand poised to shoot up to ask questions. Because there’s no perfect example of how high school should be. High school is simply what you make of it.

 

 

Whispered words

I’d grown up

in the lap of society

She sang me lullabies

I gurgled with glee.

She whispered in my ear

to keep my words to myself.

‘No one should hear you.’

And so I did as instructed

I stifled my voice deep inside.

For so long, in fact,

that I forgot the very sound of it.

Nay,

I forgot its existence.

‘Dear, is this okay?’

They’d ask me.

And I’d nod dumbly along.

‘Shall I do this?’

They’d ask me.

I’d shake my head vehemently,

but their backs were turned to me.

They couldn’t see me,

And they couldn’t hear me.

But I heard them.

I heard the people begging mercy

I heard the click of the shackles on bony hands

And I reached out to them.

Alas, my hands weren’t long enough.

I cried out, ‘Stop this horror.’

But cold air blew out my mouth.

And so

desperate

I tugged at my ears

I clawed at them

I ripped those bloody things away

So I stopped hearing

and pretended that was the solution

the right solution

and the blood continued to flow.

from me

around me

As I closed my eyes and slept peacefully.

I owe you guys a million apologies. My Wifi hasn’t been working for the past couple days, and hence there was no book challenge updates. I shall continue it today evening. PROMISE OKAY.

I had kissed her goodbye.

“Are you okay?” Strange voices filtered through my head, and I nodded vaguely to the concerned strangers.

 

The rain battered down on me, and I was grateful for that, because my tears now camouflaged easily into the background.

 

I had kissed her goodbye.

 

The thought wafted through my head, and punched a crater in my stomach. I could picture her pale face in my head as I told her I was leaving. It looked so terrified I had wanted to hug her and promise her I would always be there for her and tell her I loved her over and over again. Instead, I did none of those things.

 

I had kissed her goodbye.

 

I had expected her to get angry with me. I had expected her to scream and yell and bring the roof down, but she hadn’t. Instead, she had looked at me with still, lifeless eyes and my heart had plummeted to my knees.

 

And so, when she didn’t say anything for a long while, I decided it was time to leave. I took a step closer, she stayed where she was. I let my palm cup her cheek, and shivered slightly at how cold she was. I let my thumb graze her cheek, and I bent towards her. I kissed her softly, on unmoving lips. I looked into her eyes, but she wasn’t looking at me. She didn’t kiss me back. She made no motion.

 

I stepped away. “Goodbye, beautiful.” I whispered.

 

I had kissed her goodbye.

 

As I reached to door, I turned back and saw her again. I looked at the auburn curls tapering towards her waist, her large brown eyes that used to get away with doing any sort of mischief, the curve of her nose, the mole at the edge of her lip, her fingers at the frays of her yellow sundress.

 

I committed it all to memory.

 

I didn’t want to leave her. That’s all I could think about. I couldn’t leave her like that, alone. And yet I did. As my foot stepped out the door, it carried me far far away from her. There was a strange feeling in my ribcage, though. It was light. Nay, it was weightless. I had, after all, left my heart back with her.

 

I had kissed her goodbye.

 

And so I stumbled along the rain, miserable, lonely and heart-broken. I had just given up on my one epic love, and my life felt like it was collapsing.

 

I must be the one man in history who left the one epic love of his life and then cried about it.

 

I was dumb. I was an idiot. I had left her.

 

I had kissed her goodbye.

 

A week later, I could finally stagger out of my bed. I looked at myself in the mirror. Unkempt hair, unshaved beard. I looked like a ruffian. I shrugged it away as I padded down towards the hallway.

 

It was when I was buttering my fourth toast that I decided. I was going to see her that day.

 

There was a light tingling in the core of my stomach. A tinge of excitement and curiosity. A tinge of knowing I’d be closer to her again.

 

I took a shower, and I shaved and I combed and combed and combed. My hands trembled with anticipation, and I ran to the florist.

 

“Hey, John. The usual, please.” I asked the florist. He made an arrangement of the most beautiful carnations, her favorite. I had got them for her every week.

 

“Thanks.” I yelled, as I ran. I halted when I reached, though. I took a deep breath in, and suddenly, I felt hollow.

 

She probably hated me, I realized. I almost lost my courage to see her, but nevertheless, pushed past the creaky gate.

 

My eyes roamed the large ground to find her, and when I did, I walked slowly towards her.

 

I sat down silently next to her. I placed the flowers on the cold stone, and whimpered, “Forgive me, baby.”

 

She didn’t respond.

 

“I didn’t want to leave you.” I continued.

 

She didn’t respond.

 

“I didn’t want us to part.” I cried.

 

She didn’t respond.

 

“I love you, and I miss you, and I want you back.” I said.

 

She didn’t respond.

 

I looked at the encryption on the grave stone. Susie Jones 1994-2014. A loving friend and daughter.

 

“I know you won’t respond. I know you can’t. But I need you to know that I have always loved you since the day we met. You are not just the better half of me, you’re my better whole. You make a good person just by being with me, and Suze, without you, I’m lost. Kissing you goodbye at your funeral was the hardest thing I’ve had to do in my entire life. I hope you like the flowers, though.”

 

I cried like a baby at her stone, and her lifeless eyes as I had kissed her goodbye flashed before me once again.

 

I spoke to the stone for hours, never once expecting a reply. I was just content to be close to her. My voice echoed through the graveyard, long after sundown.

Guardian Angel

This poem is dedicated to all those people in my life who have seen me through my worst. We’ve all pounced on the idea of a guardian angel, the savior in disguise. And mostly, it’s this guardian angel we take for granted. Often, when we finally get happiness, we tend to forget those who were there for us during our times of despair. It’s sad that we do that, but it’s the truth. So, here is a thank-you to those people in my life who have heard my wails and sacrificed shoulders and offered to punch (twice) the people who hurt me. Divya, Akansha, Swathi, Tushar, Chinmay, Joby, Tridha, Prerona, Bharath…these are some people I’ve poured my hearts to. They never flinched. THEY were (correction, are) my guardian angels, my rocks, my anchors, my friends. Thank you.

I cry in the darkness,

you lean towards me.

Hold my hand in yours,

Whisper silently.

Your wings cover my body,

as it wrecks with sorrow

and your soothing words

make me hope for a tomorrow

Because the night seems so endless

but you assure me it will cease

Because I can’t wait for the sun

to bring me some peace.

You stand by me,

as time passes by.

You soothe me when I scream,

You calm me when I cry.

After forever, I look out the window

and start to dance in the sunny weather

but when I look back you’re gone,

and clutched in my palm,

lies only a feather.

-Meenakshi

 

Creative Muse: Chameleons

words

There’s always been this one principle I’ve believed in strongly. I call it “The Anti-Chameleon Law”. Actually, I’m kidding. I obviously don’t call it that. Mostly. OKAY OKAY I CALL IT THAT DONT JUDGE.

But the only think we ever associate with chameleons are their power to adapt and change as per their surroundings. Don’t get me wrong, it is good to be an adjusting person. It’s just not good to change yourself simply because someone else wants you to.

Society demands so many things. It demands perfect body measurements and skin tones. It judges you, constantly. You’re, to put it rather crassly, screwed if you don’t follow it’s rules.

We don’t see what we’re doing when we say “Pink is the new black.” We’re dictating. We’re making the Pinks feel great and the blacks feel cheated. And just when the blacks have had enough of the ridicule, and change to pink, it is declared that, “Orange is the new pink.”

Of course I’m not talking about fashion, here. I’m talking about the ever changing expectations of society, and how foolish we are to believe in a constant. Some great person quoted that, “Change is the only constant.” We’ve repeated this statement like a parrot, a million times over. We’ve doodled it, and tumblr-posted it, and said it a million times over, except that we still have not REGISTERED it in our heads. When are we foolishly going to follow someone, simply because “society” revers him ? What is this society anyways? Who is this society? Is there a panel of judges from all walks of life rating characteristics out of ten?

Like, Honesty gets an 8/10 because it’s good, but not all the time unlike peep toes which are just so AWESOME.

Don’t even get me started on how people type lyk dis m8 lyk wat r u spikkin.

If that statement was typed out by an average person, people would be like, “What the ?!”

But if that same statement was said by a twitter celeb with over 1M followers, you’d see the style become viral.

It’s okay to follow a trend. Really. As long as you don’t let it change you. As long as you don’t let it alter with who you are.

Society isn’t made up of god-like people who have their morals so up high that they can judge everybody else against them. Society is made up of “idols” and idiots like you and me who hang on to their every word.

RELATIONSHIPS. Gah. It is in relationships that you most often see this “chameleon-istic” attribute, because everyone wants to seem “swag.” and so damn “upbeat” but here’s the truth, plain and clear,

NOBODY IS EVER GOING TO BE PERFECT. Neither was Mahatma Gandhi and neither is Angelina Jolie. All that matters is rising up with the imperfections, keeping your head held high, believing in who you are. It’s very easy to catch on to a passing trend, but it’s so difficult to do something worthwhile. We’re all made up of the light and the dark, and we’re never going to be wholly anything. WE ARE AN OREO. There’s some light inside all of us, and to reach there, we need to rip open the darker side.

So yeah, I penned down a couple of words regarding this “burning desire” to change people, or yourself into society’s twisted mould of perfection.

Stay true, stay you xD

Love,

JMS

You’re beautiful.

You’re beautiful. You’re beautiful.
You’re beautiful, it’s true.

IMG_1885

(Photo: Akansha Shekhar my baker, she is so damn beautiful no? I love taking her pics.)

So, very obviously, I am in a James Blunt mood today, and when these lyrics (which he repeats oh so often) kept worming their way into my head, I thought, ah what the heck, its time for a creative muse anyway.

I’m not usually a great complimenter. Especially if people sucked really bad. If a friend comes to me, and asks me to rate her voice, whilst simultaneously sounding like Rebecca Black, I’d probably crack the tiniest of smiles and say, “Wow. You’re wow.”

For a person in love with the english language, when it comes to compliments, I can be quite stingy. It’s not due to lack of wanting to, I assure you. It’s just …tough… at times.

However, there are those times when I’m genuinely blown away by a kind gesture or a fantastic performance, and then words tumble over each other in an effort to come out.

And when I do give a compliment, no matter how shallow or how deep, how placating or how sincere, the joy I see reflected in the persons eyes really warms me.

Here’s the honest-to-god truth in life: PEOPLE ARE VAIN.

PEOPLE ARE VAIN.

PEOPLE ARE VAIN.

PEOPLE ARE VAIN.

(Because, simply, saying it once ain’t enough.)

But that is the truth after all. It’s okay, though. It’s alright to want a reassurance that you’re good enough for the world because it’s too often that people try to prove to you that you’re never good enough.

Vanity about one’s looks or voice or talents or abilities or characteristics often drive people crazy. And I have one advice to all of you.

James Blunt-o-fy yourselves. OH YES, why? BECAUSE YOU’RE BEAUTIFUL. *cue music*

Everyone has their strengths and weaknesses. There’s nobody who is perfect in this world, and even if there were, gee. What a boring person that must be.

You may be tall or short. You may be thin or fat. You may have curls or straight hair. You may have blue eyes or brown. You may sing great, or break window panes. You may dance gracefully or fall off the stage. You may amuse people, or repel them. You may be any of these things, but you should know that you are you and that is true and no one can be you-er than you. (Whaddup, misquoted Dr.Seuss reference)

I was watching a Reese Witherspoon movie lately, where the hero gives her Play-Doh as a birthday gift. He complements it with a story, about how play-doh was originally intended to be white goo that removed soot of wallpaper, and became obsolete due to heaters, etc. He then said that the guy who invented it suddenly found no demand for his product. His sister-in-law, i think, then asked him to add color to it and use it as modeling clay. And thus the white goo became Play-doh.

What that essentially means is, “we are all just one small adjustment away from making our lives work”.

Which is such a lovely thought, is it not ?

For every person better than you, there’s always one person worse. It’s simple. ITS THE CIRCLE OF LIFE *hakunamatata*

Considering I’ve already entered into Lion King mode, let me just end with a lion king quote.

REMEMBER WHO YOU ARE.

*drumroll*

Never lose H.O.P.E (wondering why I acronym-ised it?) H stands for all the hate you’re going to get in life. Don’t lose it. Instead, convert it into the fuel that’s going to drive you forward. O stands for Others. Don’t lose the other people in your life, because they are the ones who make your journey memorable. P stands for Party. Because, well, party. Enjoy. Freak Out. And E as of now stands for elephants. ( Partly because I can’t think of anything else, and partly because…well, SAVE ANIMALS CALL PETA ETCETRA.)

Quick Announcement: As you can see from the photograph, I now have my own digital signature. WOOOHOOOO. Which is essentially just a random font on a photo editing software, but my, doesn’t that look professional? Teehee.

Mission Happy Cows: 09/03/2014

Today was both satisfying and disappointing in so many ways. When we think cows, we think of fat black and white creatures that graze lazily on pastures BUT HELLO REALITY CHECK:

cowsreality

(The first pic taken from the net, the second I clicked today :/ )

So, we do what we can do. Today, my parents, brother and I spent about two three hours driving all around Bangalore feeding these cows. We fed about 20 or so cows, and 7-8 calfs. We also fed about twenty dogs and 4-5 puppies.

It’s a self-gratifying experience. Noticing us feeding the cows, several shopkeepers willingly came and gave us vegetables in bulk to feed them! It truly felt like we were making a difference.

Sorry about the crappy quality ( phone).

ANYHOW guys, please try doing this! Cow-slobbering over the tomato in your hand- AMAZING FEELING.

Love,

Meenu.

Eavesdropper: Prologue

Love is strange. That’s an accepted fact. It’s twisted and tangled into impossible knots. It’s the sun that shines bright in the day, and the stars that guide your path at night. It’s the heart that thunders in your chest, and it’s the butterflies that flutter in your stomach. It’s the dozen phone calls, and it’s the constant worrying and it’s the comfort and the fights and all the other million things that love encompasses.

Love has no boundaries, it’s limitless. Love is the simple four letter word that holds so much meaning and depth. It has every teenager day-dreaming about it, and every senile man reminiscing. It ties the memories with a satin thread; it binds people with spun silk.

Love is blind. It’s impaired, and it’s perfect at the same time. It’s beyond explanations. Love is a dream come true. It’s unexpected.

I know all this. I know and accept all this. In fact, I’ve experienced the weeping and the screaming and the late-night calling and the hand-holding and the hugs that sweep me off my feet, the whole package- really.

Which is why I’m telling you that this whole love business ? It’s overrated.

Serendipity

Chocolates and candy canes

hugs and kisses

Best friends and family

laughter and giggles

Chance.

Not everyone gets it.

Take it for granted?

Don’t.

People die without love.

Wither and fade away like day to night.

you have it?

Wonder why.

What have you done to deserve

a smiling brother, a best friend

a dog, a guinea pig.

Who are you?

Why were you born where you were?

Why do you get an education when others get killed?

Why you.

Why me.

Serendipity.

Time pass i felt like writing a few lines. Nothing too amazing, just words strung with meaning.

The loudest voice is silence- Conscience.

IMG_6995

The loudest voice is silence – Conscience.

At long last I realized,

You were never absent in my life,

Instead, I realized you were always there.

Always had been, always were.

I’d never taken heed of that silent cry,

The begging to be noticed,

The pleading to be acknowledged.

I’d ignored you like everybody else did.

Most of the time, in fact, all of it.

As they went about with their daily business

Butchering what was most precious to them

Wreaking havoc, creating destruction.

I sat by the window, wondering why.

And how and when and where.

Wondered everything, never knowing

The answer was in front of me.

All along, you. You were the answer.

And finally, as I breathe my last,

The tiny wisp of breath leaving my mouth,

I notice you.

Pale, tired, weary. Voiceless.

And, for the first time, I hear you.

My conscience. Conscience.

You speak to me, in complex words.

And yet, it’s all painfully simple.

I was wrong. Wrong in not listening.

Wrong in doubting the truth.

Wrong in not paying attention to the heart.

Wrong in wronging others.

And as the wisp begins to float higher into the air

And my eyes close,

I rest in the fact that I did finally see my conscience.

Right from wrong.

Which is more than many others can ever say.

–Meenakshi

Dora – The Explorer !

 

T’was a lovely day. We walked the Vegas strip, and admired the hotels. There was, of course, the MGM Grand, where we stayed. Then came New York, New York. Excalibur, Monte Carlo, Wynn. Big titles, bigger statuses.

Gold, gold every where! There was the ka-ching of coins and the shiny dazzle of the posh decor. Casinoes were packed with people. Always. At any given time. Some were the serious type of people, gambling for a purpose. Others were aimless youngsters doing it for no good reason.

Either ways, every one was happy at the prospect of money. Earning it, preferably. Some looked up from their roulette tables and smiled at me. But for the most, they were focused.

Hotel to hotel we walked. Looked. Admired. We were awed by most of them, and did the usual tourist stuff. Cheesed for pictures, eyed the water features. You know, the usual.

As the day became more senile, and the sun light was replaced by the famous Vegas lights, we headed on towards a water fountain musical extravaganza.

There were the usual people dressed up as characters from cartoons. So, we had three mickeys standing in a row, next to three minnies. All begging for tips.

Turns out, it’s not very different from India after all.

We saw a drunk Homer Simpson. And a Transformer. We giggled at A Dora who was wearing full orange pants. Dora wears shorts, we smirked.

But as time passed, we realized something was wrong. Dora stood in one spot, silent. There was the big smile stuck on her face, but. There was the occassional movement, but. There was something wrong.

People were flocking to the Transformer. He was cool to have a photo with. And they looked at Dora. Laughed at Dora. Mocked at Dora. And Dora stood still, watching silently.

As we continued observing, Dora gently lifted her big stuffed head. We expected to see a high-schooler doing this for money, or hey,maybe a cute guy, but what we saw left us stunned.

Inside was a wrinkly face of an old woman. Seventy, perhaps. She was sad. It was blatantly visible.

In that moment, she wasn’t Dora. She wasn’t a large stuffed toy with a monkey toy slung around a shoulder. She wasn’t a greedy beggar.

She was human.

She was a person with a life story. A history, a future. She was a person hidden behind the mask. And while everyone mocked the mask, she lay inside the dark suit, determined.

We were so moved. We grabbed some money and ran to her.
She hugged us tight. We tried to give her the money, but she didn’t even notice it ! She was so busy holding us and hugging us and posing for the camera.
When she finally noticed the money, she shyly opened her empty tips bag and we put the money in.

Have a lovely day, I whispered to her.

I didn’t change her life. A couple of dollars won’t make any difference. ‘Have a lovely day’ wouldn’t necessary get her a lovely day. She’s probably still going to see a million haters.

But, she made a difference in my life. She taught me that there, against the sharp contrast of the richest hotels of the world, there was injustice. Unfairness. Discrimination.

Of what use is all the gold in the world to a thirsty man ? Of what use is all the glamour and riches, if only a select few get to enjoy it ?

Riches may dazzle your eyes. Poverty opens your eyes.

And there, in the middle of the Vegas Strip, Dora changed my life.