Wednesday, 22 February 2017

The adaptation anomaly

Sometimes it just creeps in

The adaptation anomaly-
Those “literally-fed-up-with-all-this” moments
When we simply cannot sync with the ambience-
And grow sick of all the complications in the air-
And wonder if the nomenclature of those around
Be reworked as “sophisticated machinery”…
When we forgot the last time we interacted with people-
Real, simple ones sans adjectives-
And that’s when we involuntarily move the curtains of our dusty window
To catch a glimpse of a view that we already knew by heart-
But this day, that view has got a different shade-
As if each thing outside the window-
Is finally letting out a story that it held back for so long-
Stories told in a language comprehensible at these exceptional moments alone…
And then when we come back to our (in) sanity-
The bustle looks meaningful for the first time
And it suddenly dawns upon us-
That each of these machinery has a unique story for itself-
That makes them apparently so dense-so complex-
Humans, at last.
Certain exceptions are beautiful in a way that they deviate us to new spheres altogether...
Things that we would never have explored but for this strange incompatibility…


Monday, 6 February 2017

The balance.

For her,
They were rare visitors…
Those transient feel-good moments.
The moments that slowly engulfed part of herself…
The coffee mug steaming with caffeine,
The morning sunshine,
And the brisk rustle of a fresh newspaper.

Amused at the sudden and unexpected interstice in her otherwise jam packed schedule, she sat down on the balcony and took a long sip of her coffee; as if to savor to the highest altitude, a forgotten delicacy.

Laying the newspaper aside, she stared at the sun peeping through the leaves of the jamun tree. The leaves that were once very familiar to her, looked strange and outlandish. She let the warmth of the rays fall on her face and closed her eyes to relish the ephemeral experience.

“Can’t you see that I’m yet to submit my thesis? I have just started… ”
“But, beta, you have to accept certain norms of the society…You know how much…………..”
She didn’t feel the need to lend her eyes to the rest of the conversation.
She already knew it by heart.
Her earlobes pounded with acquaintance at the religiously repeated epithets.
But she knew that this day was different.
She knew that today she had to give an answer; however much she tried to resist.
And in the consolidated list of things that she couldn’t do, she never forgot to note down her reluctance to say “No”.

She went into her study, with an urge to find solace in her diary. Those pages were ready to embrace the stained ink. Though they appeared to loathe it, they secretly looked forward to those days. They somehow felt the confluence of tears and ink made them look beautiful.

Today, I’m eccentrically striking off my unfulfilled wish list;
Without a tinge of respect to the soul that cherished them.
I knock off each fear that creeps in
And brush aside all the ifs and buts and what ifs
I’m populating my mind with the courage
To emotionally prepare myself-
For the deluge that is-
For a lifelong battle with my soul.

So that I could struggle with myself with grace and elan
And customize a new self
And to justify to myself why everyone is right
And why this decision is right
And convince myself of all the pros and dump the cons
And let go off surprisingly with absolute ease
All the dreams that I lived upon…
Forget once for all, the person I strived to be,
And fake a smile, and build a plastic heart.

I do not know where this leads me
May be another uncertainty
By the time I finish dumping my real self
May be I’ll know that all these efforts have gone with the wind.
All in vain.

And I may try to put back to place; the pieces of my old self
And try to slowly shatter this new wax statue…
But where do I dispose off this customized version of mine?
Their remnants will still lurk within me
And occupy the vacant spaces where my original self has got creased off
And it'll all be a mess
The new dreams and old dreams
The two versions of myself
Fake "me" and the real "me"
And they’ll fight
None will succeed
They’ll keep fighting relentlessly…
Will I be able to strike a balance?

She opened her eyes with a jerk.
Her heart was still throbbing with the impact of the shudder.
“What happened?”
“I cannot find my Maths homework notebook...”
“It’s in your second drawer. Wait. I’m coming. ”

The sun kept peeping through the leaves. And the unfinished coffee. And the folded newspaper. The rays of sunshine tried hard to catch a glimpse of her through the window curtains, envying at the way she seamlessly juggled her persona.

Saturday, 4 February 2017


Knight smirked;
"Oops" said the proud father.
Lost the game; won the Queen.

A Simple Message...

A Simple Message...