It's minus everywhere

I just went through some of my blog posts and I realised some of them reeked of negativity. A large portion of my brain has been enveloped by gloom and broodiness, that are eating into it slowly. I'm sure I have lost weight not only because of my recent bout of illness but also due to overtly dwelling over matters that are not under my control. My appetite has definitely fallen victim to an outburst of useless thoughts.  

What's the solution?

To not ponder and worry? And to just 'chill' as my peers would put it. It's next to impossible for me. It's just in my nature, to worry and engage my mind with futile musings. Sometimes I'm unable to keep them to myself. I call up my close friends and confide in them. Why is it so hard for me to 'chill' ?
It seems like the air is full of minuses; the "-" that seem to penetrate my head, slowly travel the course of my gullet and numb my stomach.

Another minus post, joining the bandwagon.

When the world turns bitchy.

 My first exposure to pure unadulterated bitchiness.

Where, you may ask.

College, of course. The source of new friends, who seemed genial and amiable initially. Scenes changed in a matter of two months and out poured, many dirty little secrets.

Time for some hot gossip. She is a geek surrounded by books, trying to please the teachers with her good grades. She doesn't have time for fun. She doesn't have a boyfriend. She hyper ventilates. She doesn't cheat during exams. She is such a know-it-all. She thinks she is funny. She doesn't get Marathi! ehl oh ehl. Guitar bajati hai, usme kya badi baat hai?

And then they dig deeper.

Her sense of dressing. OOF! Sucks. The glasses worsen it. Hahaha.

She is always smiling. Does she think she can befriend the whole class? What an idiot.

Wanna invite her to the party? Obviously NOT, dude.

So much contempt. A truckload of mindless nastiness bellowing out of some individuals who CLEARLY have a big insecurity complex, who, seriously, need to get a life of their OWN.

I think of SMJC, and I feel a lump in my throat. I miss everything. I miss my best buddies.

Malice. Cattiness which makes me want to puke.

A Bittersweet Symphony

Aaah!Life can be as sweet and fantastic as sizzling brownies with vanilla ice-cream or be as bitter as cod liver oil. It can soothe you like a warm bubble bath or sting you in the bum like a vicious bee. You can't mask the effect of the bitterness; you HAVE to taste it at some point or the other.

So yes, just when I think normalcy is going to set in, something has to pop to obstruct it's flow. Stress. Anxiety. Helplessness. Anger. Frustration. Sickness. A concoction of all these components, proportioned haphazardly. I have been in the I-am-low-I-need-to-vent-my-emotions mode, since the past two weeks. How can one enjoy life when others around him or her are miserable? Yet, I dragged my friends out on a Sunday, to watch Ek Main aur Ek Tu, which in spite of it's silliness and pointlessness, managed to distract me a bit. Sitting at home, feeling depressed by a sickly atmosphere wasn't helping, hence the movie plan.

Senility can prove to be a major pain to those who are not it's victims. Each day accelerates the aging process, not to mention senility. It hurts. I have never seen my grandmother so weak; my grandfather so tired, so irritable and so frustrated with life. But then, age cannot be reversed. A taste of the Bitter. I have learnt to accept and come to terms with it.

Our home needs some happiness. A generous taste of divine gulab jamuns, that melt in one's mouth. So that I see a smile on my parents' face and maybe a hint of a smile on my grandparents' faces. Some reassurance that happy, memorable times are ahead of us.

If there's bitter, something sweet will definitely come along. Cos' it's a bittersweet symphony, after all.

Daydreams of an Ex-Girlfriend

A fantastic poem written by my ex-classmate. I love you for this one! :)

So I hear you’re up to your tricks again,

Got a new heart in exchange for mine,

And relief, envy, pride, anger and sorrow,

All stalk me as I stalk you online.

For they told me about your reputation,

Of having for girls an unquenchable thirst,

And I knew I was going to be dumped soon,

So being a smart girl, I dumped you first.

Ha! I remember the look on your face,

I revel in those stunned hazel eyes,

I like to think I pricked your ego, just a little,

By that gaping look of bemused surprise.

But, you know, Mr. Casanova, as I smartly,

Turned my back on you with a toss of my head,

And all along the road as I was walking,

I was hoping you’d call me back instead.

You probably just gave a bemused shrug,

And as soon as I went out of your sight,

You walked into a pub and got hold of,

A new girl with whom to spend the night.

Still, I’ll admit it’s rather a consolation,

Though it’s cold and majorly thin,

For when people ask, “why did he dump you?’’

It’s nice to say, “I dumped him.”

The girls all had told me stories,

About the girls you had gone on to date,

The same might have happened to me, almost,

 I got out before it was too late.

Oh, times with you were lovely, I’ll admit,

I was rather proud at having caught your eye,

And those envious glances of the ladies,

I can’t forget, even though I try.

I thought what every girl had thought,

Thought I’d get you to change your ways,

Foolish enough to think I was different,

I would end the Casanova Days.

I wonder who’ll be the one to hold you,

I wonder if you’ll come back to me,

I wonder a lot of things, Mr. Casanova,

For I was almost in love, you see.

- Ashavari Bhattacharya

Clearing my head

I need to clear my head.
I need to stop thinking.
I need to have a good will power.

F.M.L.

Of lurrrrvvv and ze heartiz

The highly anticipated week of February is here! It began on Tuesday, technically speaking. But. Like. Finally!

Hello there.

Oh wait.

OMGGGG!!! IT'S VALENTINE'S WEEK!!!!! <3 <3 <3

The hearts can go on. And on.

And so can the teddies, the Facebook status updates,  roses, chocolates and the superb profits that the Archies outlets are in the process of making.

So it's Chocolate Day today. Did I eat a chocolate? Yes I did. An old Five Star bar from the refrigerator.

Rose Day flew by. It struck me today, when my friend was gushing about some random guy who gave her  a yellow rose. An OMG moment. I decided to feel happy for her. Really.

So what if a really cute guy had given me a RED rose?

I wouldn't have hyperventilated.

I would have just felt flattered. After all, who doesn't fancy compliments?

Do I belong to the passionate haters of Valentine's Day, week, etc? And all the sappiness and hype surrounding it? Not really. I don't believe in condemning it completely. It is a big deal for many. A very big one. But not for me. It had always been a normal day for me, minus or plus boyfriend. Slightly nightmarish last year, considering I had my Physics practical exam (The Boards, mind you) that day. Otherwise, pretty much hunky dory.

Yes I wouldn't mind feeling a teeny weeny bit special that day. You know.

Minus all the Valentine Day paraphernalia.

Do I detest the OMG status updates and comments on Facebook? The baby-I-love-you-more-than-anything-else-in-this-world posts and all those virtual kisses and hugs? Ooof. Course I do. I would cringe and probably paralyze in embarrassment if my boyfriend sent that to me.

Why Facebook? The exclusivity is lost when such things are thrown open to the world. All those mundane 'likes' to such posts make me squinch further.

The next thing I'm going to say will sound mega cliched. But, you ACTUALLY don't need a week or a day to profess your affection or love for someone. But if such a day does exist, there's no crime in going with the flow.

As Gary Cherone sings,

More than words
Is all you have to do to make it real
Then you wouldn't have to say that you love me
'Cause I'd already know
 
How fitting is that? :)

Whatever, people. Take your pick. No compulsion.


P. S : Happy Valentine's !

The dreaded stranger

"..A stranger’s face is an unapproached potentiality, to be opened if one makes the choice and effort; this was a face known, closed and never to be reached again." 

- The Fountainhead

This is one of my favourite lines from this book. It sums up the concept of the dreaded variety of strangers.

Why dreaded? You require substantial amount of guts to face such faces; faces that are familiar, yet so distant. There are reasons, obviously, behind the aloofness and the void that replaces the intimacy and familiarity. All efforts to claim the remnants of old bonds are futile. You don't wait for the realisation to dawn upon you. You know it, because the reasons are linked to you.

The face represents the final stage of a relationship on the verge of snapping, like an overstretched rope that can withstand strain no more. It's the result of broken trust or spite or bitter resentment. The void leaves ample space for reproach, pain and a permanent ache. Memories are merciless. You wouldn't want to recall them, yet they come back to you; you can't control their surge.

You are so afraid. You would rather take harsh chastisement or blows than tolerate complete withdrawal  and lack of recognition. The latter is ten times worse.

But.

What if there are no solid reasons? What if it's just vagueness, finally leading to some decision?

What if you notice a gradual change in behaviour that transforms the person into a stranger?  You try your best to maintain the relationship but it's no good. Avoidance, excuses, distance and more distance. You aren't stupid. You learn to accept the detachment. You wonder what went wrong. And it's the same void that slowly replaces the closeness, you both shared.

You dread the face. You want to rebuke the stranger, knowing very well that indifference is the only reaction you can hope to receive. The doors will be closed, indefinitely.

What's the best option?

I don't know. I have experienced it. But I don't know the answer.

Time does her thing. Makes you drift away. Makes sure your mind is occupied by other incidents, events, memories.

Who knows? You might just stop dreading the stranger.

The sore feeling

*Cough Cough Cough*

I have fallen ill for the second time this year, and believe me, I feel like an immunity-less fragile being. I woke up at 4 A.M this morning, feeling warm and uneasy. One Crocin down and I crashed again. I woke up at 8 A.M again, feeling exhausted.

College? Nah. Too lazy. Too tired. Too zoned out.

I'm fucking annoyed with the dust and germ ridden cold air. Or maybe it's the paint that's being used to paint my building. The lining of my larynx feels tender, my fingers numb. I can hardly type.

I think I'm gonna sleep now.

*Cough Cough Cough*

Look at this photograph

And then when she saw his face, she melted.

Forgot her anger,the hurt, the complaints and the flaws.

The familiar smile and eyes.

It doesn't matter really, she thought. Forget reality for a split second and gaze at the photo, his expression and feel the same thrill run down my spine.

But the foreboding sense of longing crept into her mind. The longing to visit the old days.

She cast it away.

Trying to forget the smile and eyes.

A sudden melancholy enveloping her.