Smart & Like-Minded Followers

Tuesday, 23 September 2014


~Story Corner~
'We must free ourselves of the hope that the sea will ever rest. We must learn to sail in high winds'- Aristotle
Sometimes I feel like I am drowning.
The water of my tension is cool when I fall in, in waves I have memories jolted against my body and sometimes rising high above me and breaking when the memories transitions to another one. The water is slowly soaking every bone in my body, every bone can feel the anguish, can feel the guilt, can feel the little glitches of happiness, pulsate through my body. My head is bobbing across the surface of the sea of my worries, just one tidal wave away to pull me into its arms.
And it does.
It all happens too quickly, one minute I am floating on the surface, oblivious to the future and oblivious to the past and the very next second I am drowning, falling, aimlessly spirally down in a sea of all those pent up worries. I have repressed them, taken them all in, I gave them a life inside of me. Every hurtful memory, every single drop of tear is remembered with such clarity… with such astonishing clarity. I am drowning, too quickly, too suddenly… can someone help me?
I am failing my arms, and trying to swim up, the anchor of pain in my life pulls me down. Every rejection, every snide remark, every blow to heart they resonate from within me, they have a voice of their own. These voices want to scream, these voices want to shout, these voices want me to just open my mouth.
And I do.
I let the life out of me. I let the oxygen run away from me. I swallow my guilt, I swallow my pride. It tastes funny and I begin to close my eyes. I feel my lungs racing, I feel my heart crying. I feel… I feel so much. I feel so much my head hurts. I think so much that my brain is far gone… My mind has run away from me, but it has left letters. Those letters contain my memories. The happy, the sad, the benevolent, the observant, the trials and tribulations, the despair and hope. They all flood me, they all come rushing me… they call for me, each fragments whispers a name… each fragment has something to say: Don’t give up… No, just don’t, there is a chance…. There is always a chance.
I am paralysed.
I see my life. It’s a long cinematic reel. I taste the colours, some taste bitter, some taste funny but some are parts of a whole, and those are so delightful to eat. I feel my hands longing for these delights, I feel my legs push off the lassitude. I feel this within me… there is a changing. I feel this glow, that power, the brightest one and for a moment I am completely still until sudden I burst open from my bosom. Ribbons and ribbons of the people who loved me, vibrant long strands of every memory. Oh I was like a rainbow, my colours flooding the darkness in the sea of nothing.
I come alive.
There is a rocket waiting to launch. The adrenaline of hope kicks in, the pull of love so strong. I feel hands grab me, I feel myself, up… out of the water… this must mean that I am, free. Freedom is beautiful. Freedom is a luxury. I cough and gurgle the negativity outside of me, the funny taste slipping out of my mouth. I rise, I’m cold but oh I am free… the stars above me, shine so pretty, the smell of anticipation or legato notes from a beautiful memories.  Dandelions… I see them there. A field of simple purity. Bright yellow with dabs of brown, they are so big, they may just encompass me. Right there is a large tree, it’s warm… and so brotherly. I trust… I trust myself with these… dandelions and you giant oak tree.
I am not sad anymore.
The sky is blue, but it’s light, fluffy and heavy with security. They wait for me… Maybe they always have. They take care of me and soak me to the bone with happiness, sense and logic. This is life. And this is my family. Life is always beautiful. It’s us who make the choice to dive in the sea. Not all of us can swim, some of us can just float. So if you are scared then don’t go alone, learn to swim or stay afloat. Don’t be alone, for if you drown, there will be no one but yourself who can pull you out.
‘Every white rose, has a dark shadow’- Sachi

Sunday, 14 September 2014

Can You Relate?

How to Get...

1.     Away with Murder:

Dual reference to the upcoming American Crime Drama show starring Viola Davis which tops my list of shows I shall be watching after my AS boards get over (you can check out the list on the Sidebar). Criminology has always been a fascination since I was a little kid and it is a subject after English Literature that I would love to major in. More than the thrill aspect I think what appeals to me is the cognitive projections of the Criminals and the nature v/s nurture of the crime and the criminal. Humanity is so flawed  and very few of us manage to not get in touch with our ‘dark side’ but those who do fall deep into the cracks of this ruthless and ever so demanding society have different coping mechanisms which usually means leading to crime and deviance. Again this is subjective on so many levels.

Alternatively, if you do habour murderous tendencies then you can always become a writer. That’s one profession where you can go about with mass killing- Looking at you George R.R. Martin, and no law in this world will stop you. I mean, you can send children to battle it out with full grown dark wizards and let all the old heroes bleed to death (Ahem J.K Rowling). You can also create a sick stimulation and pool in a couple of teenagers and let them battle it out, nice doggy style (Talking about you Suzanne Collins). Or if you want to be creative you can throw them off buildings or make them commit suicide and then is the guilty conscience kicks in, you can bring them back to life (Excuse you, Gatiss. I cried rivers because of you. You’re not spared either Moffat!)

2.     Over a breakup:

Haha joke, you don’t.

It’s true, you don’t just stop liking a person altogether and forget every memory or moment or even the silly fights and frets you guys must have shared. It’s not so easy and definitely life does not make it easy. What actually happens is that you accept the reality of the situation and you make peace with it but here and there you will always find yourself thinking about your past relationships. Even if you have moved on to someone else, you mostly always draw comparisons between the ‘then’ and ‘now’. Again this depends on the nature of the breakup, if it was messy then the only thing you are going to remember is his/her name on your hit list but if it were mutual then you’ll remember the good times and ironically find humour in the bad times.  That’s what I would do.

3.     A Guy/Girl to like you:

You can’t. They’re all fictional.
And possibly dead.
Usually its spells or evil patriarchs or daddy issues (Ask Cassandra Clare, she’ll tell you).
Almost always the best character die of diseases: Cancer anyone? (Don't run away from me John Green, you made me feel blue and now I see red!)

4.     As fabulous as Beyonce:

Keep dreaming cause that ain’t happening.

 5.     Good Grades:

I’ll simplify this with 3 steps:
·         Open a book
·         Study the book
·         Shut the book because iiSuperwomanii is out with a new video. OMFG is that CONOR FRANTRA! TAKADA! Will study when I die…
6.     Through your AS LEVEL Boards:

Laugh away at our misery other educational boards. As if IG was not a headache (which now seems to be a piece of cake in comparison) that wouldn’t go away, AS is the big bully that grabs you by your arms and shakes you till you see the world in fuzzy disconnected colours. If that wasn’t enough A2 is the bully’s mother who swears her ‘kid’ is the ‘easiest’ to get along with. Pfft, if only such were the case. Anyway for all those giving their AS & A2 boards with me this year October/November, I wish you the best of luck and I’ll keep you in my prayers. Who know Dumbledore might be lenient. I meant God sorry. I always picture God as old Dumbledory… All Hail Thee!

Monday, 1 September 2014

The Poetic Voice

Dart Wounds Don't Heal

There isn’t much to say.
There isn’t much to do.
He came, he saw, he went away
It’s done. Adieu
I lay here open, for the world to see
Come trample and trod, spare me no mercy.
My armour is battered, it has seen too much
The clinks seep love, come on now, fill your cup.
Dart wounds, don’t heal.
The Messenger won’t listen to me
Too tired to really put up a fight.
She whispers softly,
“Dear Heart, don’t worry. We will be alright.

I am not a Poet but I do have these staccato bursts of pure literary knowledge where I can express myself better in figures of speech than simple sentences. I am comfortable talking figuratively because I don’t believe that anything in life is so fundamentally simple. It’s a different argument when we over complicate matters but I see complexity in every manner of activity, relationships, decisions etc. When I really put my head to it and wonder why I like expressing my emotions in stories or poems but not in direct materials like diaries or journals, I have just one answer. Maybe for me coming to terms with my emotions means that I have to face them directly but when I rather conveniently merge it into my work, Its hidden which means that I don’t have to confront reality because I have already discussed it in my work of fiction.
The power of words, the strength in a paragraph, just one sentence can move a crowd or start a revolution! That pen you hold in your hand can be ruling the lives of millions, the ink you spill on blank sheets today could save a life secure a future. There is so much to language, so much we are yet to understand. This poem is just words but words that store my emotion, sentences that bury my feelings but convey what I really want to say.

I am not a Poet. I just love to write. And if you just love to read then I hope this poem appeals to you :)