Realizations

Don't judge me if you find my rambling irregular, incoherent, even insane.

As particular as I am about dates, it’s clearly impossible to prevent myself from peeping into the past through the cracked concrete wall of time.

It’s May again; a month that marks a series of ambiguous, disturbing events that any sane person wouldn’t want to recall. Since I am believed to (slightly) deviate from the conventional notion of sane, I often happen to find myself returning to the unpleasant lane that I had crossed some time back, for reasons I'd gladly reveal some other time.

Ever since the month had begun, with every passing day, the awareness of this being the time keeps getting more pronounced. I had been working hard ever since January to construct a wall strong enough to conceal certain parts of myself... And sure enough, I had succeeded to quite an extent. It is, perhaps, just the fear of getting comfortable with an empty heart that wants me keep visiting regularly the tracks long crossed.

(The 17^th of May): Now that I was done with the headache of the god damn presentation, I was pretty much relieved.  Getting myself a chilled can of coke, I found myself walking to the same place I had been to a year ago. I had always liked this place; sitting here for hours, contemplating over all that mattered and all that did not; shedding a tear every now and then. Anyways, like all those times, I sat there in the shade at the chipped bench, with still an hour in my hand before I leave for home.

Absorbing the soft filtered sunlight coming from between the slender branches of the tall, ancient tree, I laid my head back… Something felt familiar. Wait, I know what you’re thinking. No, I’m clearly not as insane as to rejoice the heat of May. Let me be more clear, it was definitely not the heat that I was taking in, but the pouring nostalgia that had had me all drenched. Now that I was alone, surrounded by the air of the time that had gone by; the tough membrane of denial that I had built, somehow collapsed. 

Realization # 1: Recalling what had gone by doesn’t always mean you yearn for it to return, it simply means that now when you’ve crossed the foggy lane, now when you happen to successfully stand –apparently in one piece – at the sunny side of the road, you want to see it all over again with a clearer vision... 

The sky was however not clear. A bank of thin, white clouds had stroked the blue canvas with irregular patterns… This too was just another reminder. People don’t agree with me, but since quite a few years I’ve been noticing how the month of May brings with it a troop of soft clouds. 

Clicked this picture on May 14th, 2012

 Realization # 2: I carry with me a bunch of reminders from different times. A bunch of reminders, and a chain of mistakes. Mistakes, that once were the only right thing I knew. Mistakes, that weren’t mine in the first place. I carry with me, a reminder of the wrong winds that came my way… A reminder of the retreating steps… A reminder of the time badly spent… So much hurt, and a little to regret… 

This tree, under whose shade I was sitting, bears the most beautiful flowers. The sort I had never seen before. Hundreds of them, radiating the brightest shade of yellow, they hang from the green branches like bunches of grapes.

photo source: davesgarden.com

The warm wind blew; very randomly, a few petals fell from the branches and came about gently resting at the back of my hand, bringing alive the ache that I still remember...

Realization # 3: Some spark has been lost, nevertheless, I’ve still somehow managed to bring with myself something from that time; or to be more accurate, might I say that I’ve lost something of myself to that time... It’s hard to decide. 

I remembered the time when I was always left believing that it’s something that I had done. I remembered the time when I wished I had known. I remembered the time when I had been so unreasonable, blind, utterly naïve and hopelessly self-destructive. For what? For who?  I wasn’t this person. I’ve never been. A stream of tears started welling up… 

Realization # 4: At times, we really don't know what we're asking for... The scenario that I had carved so perfectly on the glass of mind, came out quite differently on the canvas. A reality check: Perhaps, it was the idea which had me believing that it’s there when actually it wasn’t. Perhaps I had known it along, but never had the courage to admit it. Perhaps  this is how it was all meant to be… Perhaps, there were certain lessons that I needed to be taught.  I needed to be taught, that what I had wished for is not something I really, practically want; hence, the temporary pain.

I opened my can… Psss.... A sad realization settled in that it had lost all its chillness (if this is by any chance a word at all). Instinctively, the corners of my lips curved upwards indicating what clearly was a smile (As odd as it may sound, my lips actually happen to curve downwards when I smile. Yeah, don't say it, I know). I smiled at the level of my stupidity, feeling the clouds of gloom slowly evaporate. A smile. Yes, it was a smile. The progress had already been made. I was smiling at things that had served as reasons for the emotional distress that had kept me occupied for a long period of time. It’s funny, isn’t it? How you learn to joke about stuff that once were the most painful things even to talk about. 

Realization # 5: Certain things happen to remain with us for a measurably long period of time; they stay with us for so long, that with time, we eventually grow immune to their presence. It’s true, time does happen to heal all wounds, but certain things, it can never alter. 

The feeling was strange... The instant I realized that I’m smiling, I actually laughed to myself (spilling some coke at my blue shirt).  A year ago, I had filled buckets of tears crying at this very place, under this very tree, on this very day. Did I think I’d be laughing to myself for this very reason, at the same place, under the same tree, on the same day after one entire year? Life is crazy. Stuff that you think would never happen, actually happen. It has its weird ways of proving you wrong.

I gulped down half of my coke, retained my energy level and successfully forced back the feeble attempt of traitor tears back to where they had come from. Its ohkaay, I thought. Things happen, so what? There’s a lot that I had learned, a lot that I still need to. 

For all those reading, ladies and gentlemen, I’d proudly like you to know, that I’m not as optimistic as I may have sound up there. But along with all those negative changes that had approached me; I have also learned to deal with certain stuff quite positively. 

Realization # 6: Handling stuff positively; probably this is what growing up is all about… 

I know, the phase would return, the air would surround me again; out of nowhere it’d appear and to nowhere it’d disappear. Every now and then, I’d again catch a glimpse of what once was. Someday or the other, I’d again be left missing the bits and pieces that I had lost. Sooner or later, you’d again hear me talk about it. So what? At least now I have a story of my own worth telling; stuff that I did worth remembering!

I can’t change the past. I can’t undo what’ve been already done. But how does quitting on stuff that I had always liked, concealing the best of myself, giving away all that I still have and dodging off all the goodness coming my way would make me a better person? Hmm... A note to myself. 

Realization # 7: Sometimes, very rarely, my mind comes up with thoughts that amaze my own self. 

I emptied my can of coke, craving for more. With a little more time in hand, I decided to get myself another of it and go about treating today like any other normal day. I very carefully gathered the fallen petals and tossed them into my bag –another reminder. The question of forgiveness however remained unsettled; to which as well I’ve decided to come some day later.

For now, I cherish at the terms of my own peace treaty.

The Secret

I should be studying, I know. But since this literally smacked me, I’m compelled to put aside my books and write type this down.

I was, actually, just wondering, whether I should or should I not reveal this tiny secret that often comes about pricking my self-esteem. But this is, anyway, rather funny. Beginning with some depth in it, it’ll gradually stir into embarrassment and ultimately cool off in good humor.

It was a long time ago though, but my luck has always been pretty good when it comes to being acquainted with the ‘wrong’ people. With previous matters still running in the background, this time, once again, a new (though short) chapter was introduced; and I almost, “virtually” became acquainted with yet another wrong person.

Skipping the long epilogue, the secret could be revealed as simple.

Having a friend of a friend’s friend, the ‘good-looking’ guy interested in me created the air of self-admiration (get the hint that I’m not exaggerating). Because yeah, well, one of the sad parts about my life is, I had always received messages (on facebook) from the rookies and untidy, funkie “kool” guys (not that if they were the ‘good’ kind, I had considered them even then).

So anyway, yes, I wasn’t even spoken to (sigh) neither any practical approach was made; for which I was very much thankful since that was something I really didn’t want. It was all fun and game, all in the head and just among us friends. A couple of months passed and the ‘sizzling’ issue cooled off like anything else.

One day, very randomly, I logged into my facebook when to my immense surprise I was notified that ‘THIS PERSON has POKED you.’ I jumped in amazement, exclaimed with joy and (almost) danced with excitement! Though personally I was moved by his laziness, for seriously, it took him three months to poke? But never mind that.

I was poked two days ago from the day I logged in. Two days. The question that occupied me was whether to poke back or to show indifference (which was honestly, very difficult). I also pondered over the various possibilities, one of which was what on earth would I do if in response to my returning poke he messaged me? I didn’t want that, definitely. Now, the sort of over-thinker I am, who happen to regard a disgusting timid lizard equal to a reptile invasion, it wouldn’t be that difficult to imagine how I must’ve treated THIS which comparatively WAS something big enough.

I (still breathing the air of self-admiration) assumed that he must be dying, waiting for my response, eeeeh.

After further two days, having received multiple advices and working out against majority, I poked back. Now if you honestly ask me, the moment I did (this was the second time when I got this gut feeling), I knew I shouldn’t have.

1/3 This was the picture (out of an entire album) my friend uploaded later to add to my embarrassment

My estimate was of three days, maximum; in three days, I’d receive the response, or even early. Those three days passed like three centuries. With every day, with every passing century, my anxiety grew –the poke never came.
A week passed and the fog of embarrassment slowly descended down, encircling me. To console my declining spirit, my friends tried justifying, “he probably hadn’t logged in ever since. And also, they’re having exams, ya’know.” But immediately, in a playful mocking tone, they’d add, “don’t lose hope…”
I on the other hand had lost all of it. Two weeks were gone and the poke was still missing. My dreams had shattered and the ‘air’ of self-admiration vented out completely, leaving me suffocating in the atmosphere of ‘betrayal’. OK, exaggerations apart, I was disappointed. The faint feeling of embarrassment had by now (you can obviously imagine) turned into an aching insult. I went back to regretting the moment when I had poked him back.
So one day, just to be sure, I opened his facebook profile and decided to take some risk. I thought since my ego has been destroyed, might as well bury it now. The settings suggest you cannot poke the same person again unless he had either removed your poke or responded back.
Just to check, I clicked at his ‘poke’ tab, and to my devastating surprise I was notified:

Your Poke Has Been Removed.

Has Been Removed.

Been Removed.

Removed.

SERIOUSLY!? REMOVED?! What did I even do?! My bubble was busted. I wanted to drown myself. It felt like I’ve been stabbed by a rusty dagger! He removed my poke? Come on! Why did he even poke me then? Was this some kind of nasty joke? I was fuming in rage. I angrily left his page and immediately (like always) informed my friends about the intense, epic moment of discovery that I’ve been “virtually” dumped.

My friends, the ultimate Gurus suggested me to block him. Seriously? If I’d have blocked him, how was I supposed to get my poke back, ever? I didn’t listen, of course, like always.With the hilarious jokes (I never wanted to laugh at those jokes, but shucks, I did), mocking yet humorous comments, fake assumed stories of ‘what might’ve prevented him from poking back’ and consoling remarks, my “wound” healed faster and the fog of embarrassment gradually lifted.

Now, when quite a long time has passed, it seems extremely silly. Who was he anyway? An average looking, mean guy? Might I add, a confirmed psycho? Feels funny. Though still, somewhere deep down, I’m still hoping for a poke back, but this time, I would be the ditcher. I’ve got a good plan to avenge myself.

2/3

(I seriously, earnestly, with all my heart, hope that he may NEVER come across this post).

3/3

So much for a poke. They should bloody remove this poke option altogether. No, wait... Nah, they shouldn't (if you know why). *winks*

My Life These Days

Since past two years, March and April have been seriously unpleasant months for me. And this year, they’ve proved to be no different. Dull, tiring, stressful, disappointing and upsetting in many possible ways.

My life these days is pretty damn hectic and stressed. There’s so much to do and there’s so little time. There’s so little time, and there’s so little will; and no hope.

From planning for a big family event that’s due for the first week of June, to attending my best friend’s wedding. From preparing for terminal exams that are scheduled in the mid of May, to dealing with the anxiety of presentations. From making peace with my past, to managing every day of my present in a slightly better way.

From struggling to make myself forgive somebody, to asking for forgiveness from the Ones-who-are-still-watching-over-me. From working to get my health back, to attempting to unknot  the misunderstandings.

From making efforts to tune out the unnecessary unpleasant stuff, to mending many other intentional and unintentional damages.

As busy as this week that had passed was, it was equally and unexpectedly pleasant. Happy, in fact. I went out shopping (I do enjoy shopping, especially when it concern weddings), celebrated my brothers’ birthday (I was disappointed when they were born because I had always wanted a sister; height of thanklessness. But honestly, when I gravely needed somebody to talk to, like those very few people who were there when nobody was, my brothers too came as saviors), planned a family gathering and attended my dear old school friend’s wedding. In this one week, I relived my life that I had back till 2009. I was back with my school friends, who were and still are the best people of my life. We exchanged the same old smiles, the hilarious laughter, the lame jokes, rejoiced the old memories --sharing some happiest moments. In this one week, I forgot about the heap of unfinished work. I forgot, that I had to go back to a place, where I’m not genuinely happy.

From missing dear old and genuinely concerned friends, to trying to fit in among a group of new and different people.

I have a whole stack of papers to fill –notes to make, writing assignments to complete, anxiety of presentations to deal with (I’m stage/audience/attention phobic), social life to manage (people actually complain) and pieces of myself to gather, everyday.

It’s Sunday (technically well, it’s Monday now), the week has already ended; and I once again stand at the verge of another week filled with more anxiety and more stress, looking forward to another week to bring some more of it, and another. And another.

But even when I’m so tightly bound with my routine, I still often find myself wandering amidst the golden fields of mustard… Or flying freely like a firefly in a dark summer night... Or swimming carelessly like a sea turtle with the current... Or lying underneath a starry sky… Away, from all the battles and free of all the shackles… And sure enough, it doesn’t take long for me to realize that this is yet another illusion, and I have several more battles to fight before I finally take refuge.

With the air of good memories lingering around me and the remembrance of good sincere people within my heart, I once again, like many other times, set off to fight yet another battle. Alone, but not really alone.

Happy exams season everyone.

Rediscovering

The story of my life can be told as simple. Not much crossroads or anything spectacular; a bundle of mistakes, a bunch of special events and a chain of memories. Everything simple and ordinary, yet cherishable –probably because I take life as it is offered. Everyday.

I remember things quite well. All the people I’ve met all this way are stored in that specific corner of my mind. I relish all the activities and moments that I’ve shared with them. There are people who have stained the canvas of my life with some dull gloomy shades, but the multiple strokes of unique shades are brighter to outshine them. I had, however, forgotten the little details that I had then noticed but somehow slipped away.

Then, a few fine days ago, when clearing my closet, I found some old journals. Or should I say a collection of journals and what I used to call “slam diaries.” The multi colored slam diaries that I had created almost a decade ago. And I (almost) jumped and (almost) danced in the rain (if it were raining) like Anjali Sharma (if only I were)! The shackles holding nostalgia were loosened and memories came about gushing! It suddenly occurred to be for how I used to make such journals recording each day’s episode and diaries having questions, demanding autograph and a ‘signature’ in the end. But, what brought a smile to my face is that it provided me a sketch; a chance to revisit the lane that I had crossed ages ago and recollect the details that had slipped away.

Leaving the closet unclear, I sat at the messy maroon marble floor with colorful diaries scattered around, laughing at my own ‘creativity’. The vague handwriting, the irregular patterns at the bottom of almost every page, the extra-long signature and some hilarious questions that were asked with the sense of great intellect. Like, “what is your favorite vacation spot?” “If you get a chance to go to Sindbad and get a free ticket for the whole day for that one ride, which one would it be?” (And almost everybody answered ‘the crazy bus’, including myself). Or questions like, “if you were an alien, which planet would you be from?” “Which are your favorite color, drink, dessert, and flower?”  And the winning question: “how do you like to dress for occasions? A) Simple. B) Decent. C) Too fancy. D) Accordingly.” WHAT EXACTLY WAS I THINKING! LOL! 

The journals contained series of random events that meant so much, back then. I recorded in July 2003, for how amazing and ‘exciting’ my day had been since we went out for dinner at Usmania Restaurant and later had “four scoops” of chocolate crunch ice-cream from “another” restaurant. (Yes, I had emphasized on ‘another’). In October 2003 I recorded how much I love doodling with crayons and that putting random strokes using bright paints make me happy. Another journal contained all my 'sad' thoughts and rambling that my parents don't love me and stuff like, I think I'm an adopted child (the reason being the arrival of my twins brothers and attention being diverted from me being the only child to the additional troublesome two).
In February 2004 I confessed how much I love the people who are in my life and the friends who make my world so beautiful. December 2004 I had expressed my grief for this year that has gone too soon. There were various recordings of such ordinary things from the year 2002-2005 in different journals which are irregular and incoherent.

But then again, it was not just a handful things, it was an entire portray of somebody that I used to be, that was washed out with time. Probably that was why I always felt like I lost certain parts of myself and bits of my life. Probably that was why if somebody asked my favorite color or zodiac sign it would feel weird and ‘childish’. Probably that was why having a cup of coffee or ‘four scoops’ of ice-cream seemed usual and ordinary. Probably that was why somebody’s departure would trigger an unknown feeling. Perhaps that was why paints and crayons were used rarely without a spark of joy. In short, probably this was the answer to that knowingly unknown question that kept hitting but never really came to me, and that was why I didn’t ask.
The portfolio containing one major era of my life that was covered in dust, hidden under piles of other note books and journals was found once again, at the right time. Rereading them somehow helped me retain the purpose. It also mirrored the contrast between who I used to be and who I’ve become.

 The reason I sat down to shape this ordinary (as it may seem) incident to words is pretty simple. There is always a way to find yourself back again. Go back and indulge yourself back again into whatever that stirs your curiosity and brings you joy. You might uncover the brilliant you or rediscover what has long been lost. Or maybe able to undust what used to be the better-you. It is never too late for anything.