A little about Jaipur

 

When over a hundred of us were herded and segregated into the chaotic compartments that awaited us on the Pune Railway Station, little did we know that the experience we had signed up for would alter innumerable aspects of our lives forever. For someone whose comfort levels are intricately woven with an idiotic hybrid of awkwardness and bad humour, I went into this trip with zilch expectations, but made a very important promise to myself : I was going to experience the tastes, sounds, shadows and the flesh of an alien city limitlessly, bravely and intimately. 

The promise remains fulfilled, so here I am, despite the fact that my pen is a little overwhelmed by all the experiences it has been designated to describe. Nevertheless, it's going to attempt to do so. 

in my element

Indian train journeys have always fascinated me because of the exclusive tenderness that they come with. On one hand, you fall short of paper soap and are dying of the biting wind that ruthlessly sweeps your berth – on the other, a batchmate willingly sacrifices his last stock of toilet paper when you need it the most, and the girl you smiled at once during your college orientation is lending out her sleeping bag to you before you can even say “I’m cold”.

New friendships are blooming as you breeze past excited pockets of different people, a twenty-two hour train journey making them all revel in each other’s quirks, distinctiveness and similarities. And as I’m surrounded by people who make me laugh a little louder into the quieter hours of the night, I tuck a very excited myself into a happy sleep- every jerk of the train a little reminder of all the memories that this beautiful ride came with.

In the midst of rushed brushing and the folding of impossibly unmanageable sleeping bags, we arrived in the Pink City. A city where an amalgamation of art, history and culture seeped like tea from a tea-bag. A city that welcomed us warmly despite the cold and chaos. As we meandered deeper into the knots of rich monuments and eager baazars, we managed to find little nooks and corners that felt like home. 

slightly obsessed with jhumkas

one of the moments of our first rendezvous with this magical city Three days progressed to finally lead us into the laps of literature, viz the Jaipur Literature Festival, one of the biggest literary events in the world.  If you were to ask me about the one emotion that JLF left me inundated with, I would blurt out “conflicted” without blinking. As someone who is avidly obsessed with documenting every experience and the magic that it came with, I found myself so torn apart because words wouldn’t shape out to serve justice to how inspired I was in the moment, the picture wouldn’t respectfully capture the rawness that I observed from the naked eye and the recordings of the session were almost always marred by an unneeded idiot guffawing in the background.

There was simply so much to see, learn, and rightly unlearn that I wasn’t ready to subserviently depend on my memory- I knew for a fact that I would want to vicariously live through my journals, photos and videos when the festival would close in on me, only leaving me with moments of it packed in my phone.

a little overwhelmed during JLF

I’d find myself reclaiming a sense of static in a world of chaos-be it a quiet conversation with a friend who’d admirably grin and talk to you like she’d known you for years or a nonsensical sputter of witty puns and spontaneous pelvic thrusts (you’re allowed to judge me now). Each day crinkled into an exciting adventure that always spiralled into a beautiful story to be told for years beyond any of us.

An entombed sense of inspiration had been revived in an ocean of influence, inspiration, grit and passion; a universe of knowledge had come to your feet, selflessly asking you to walk through the brilliance that it came equipped with. Poetry led to rediscovery and conversations assumed a rhythm that I found myself dancing to. As we walked kilometers exploring tiny dhabas and unnoticed bonfires, it hit me how the bonds that so cohesively connected all of us with the city had now become bolder and stronger.

a bad picture of a very beautiful evening

Needless to say, I'm going to remain enraptured by the unfathomable magic that this place came with for a long, long time. Until next year, Jaipur.  we look like a movie poster in this one, i love it

A mumbling massacre.

I live in a dichotomy of a state;

Belittled by the destruction, left hungry for days-

Disowned by the globe, caught in a blaze

that can’t be submerged

Today I stand in Aleppo-

Anxious, uncouth and isolated from the world.

I open my window to see a sky reeking

Of decaying gunshots-

My favourite garden is now a bastion ravaged

by army footholds and heavy smog.

Ammi still attempts to muffle us from

the unbearable raging of bombs and rifles

Her soothing voice feels like seeing ripples

in a pond of infested, stagnant water.

Plunged in pain,

traversing along the path of tragedy,

Can peace be traded or

will it Assad stand in the way of its happening-

My mind is a battlefield, raging with revolution

Martyred by this war.

A young girl of fourteen, wearing an armour

instead of her favourite

cinnamon dress and shawl.

My house doesn’t echo with the scent

of osmalliyeh and fall and rust anymore-

Curled up in a bed, fed with sour bread,

A hybrid of restlessness and inability lives on.

Resounding laughter choked with

longing for it to become routine-

I look into the mirror

and see a defeated and dissolved reflection

staring right back at me.

My coarse hands find abba’s broken locket

in the holes of my over-sized overcoat

It reminds me of a beating heart

Ripped out from a patriotic chest

Begging to go back home. 

The stairway to our abode is shrouded by

leaves, dust and hard hitting uncertainty

Knowing that I could feel at home

for a single fleeting moment

but suddenly flee at the next opportunity.

Winter is here, but I shiver not because

of the antagonizing cold.

I feel my tireless eyes sink into

an abyss of utopia- where war is

Unknown

Unheard,

Untold of.

A world where I could still play with

Aliyah and Hala if they weren’t at the sea-

On tumbling boats that decide their lives,

A world where I could breathe, and just be. 

Paper planes soaring above my sink

remind me of drones that destroy and belittle

The radio switches from twinkling notes

to bitter chronicles to 

Unending, 

Unadulterated 

Static.

My textbooks painfully stacked,

lying untouched, rendered useless-

For my home away from home was shot down

by missiles that killed a thousand ambitions.

And today I stand in front of you,

The face of a nation marred by disaster;

Begging for either peace or

death to come a little faster.

Breathless, I feel myself lose all control-

Inhale. Regain what’s left of you and build 

Over and

Over and 

Over

Till it hits you-

You are the vengeance

that will spiral this uprising

By reclaiming the regime which is hell bent

On your Death. 

Not a writer.

“Symphony of darkness” (my previous blog title) admittedly, was an identity assumption without attempts of adaptation. An attempt to portray, yet falling prey to constant disarray. I, in other words, settled for a title that does not resonate with the person that I am today.

Allow me to reintroduce myself, albeit in a disjointed and unconventional manner.

I’m not going to pique your interest at a first glance. My imperfect, non-aligned features will, expectedly, render me banal and easy to dismiss. Don’t get me wrong here, I’m not on the path of righteous bashing of the attributes that I’m blessed with- but whole-hearted acceptance of the fact that these characteristics are not persuasive enough to command your avidity. Limit me solely to my physical appearance, and you will find my disinterest in accepting compliments and criticisms for the same. I might or might not be your quintessential idea of “attractive”, but your opinion on an inherent physical attribute does not bind me to be solely it. I’m not invalidating the importance of a striking outer appearance, I’ve just learnt to broaden horizons beyond the concepts attached to it. And I’m not stopping anytime soon.

I’m a learner, but not wholly so; I’ve given in to expedience more often than I’d like, and I’ve been more biased towards outcomes that will always be in my favour, thus reducing situations that would exude consequences to learn from. Strip me off my good intentions, and you’ll find layers of dysphoria and aggressiveness, along with a savage tongue.

In the midst of my fluency, you’ll hear moments of incoherent stammering. My vocabulary is evasive rather than extensive, and I’ve been intimidated and confident, in equal parts.  My inane antics are constantly in conflict with my thirst for profundity and the number of amends I’m making are always being outdone by the daily mistakes I make. I’m not essentially different or intelligently analytical, and yet the effort to strive to be it, is the one aspiration that exhausts and arouses me, at the same time. I’ve sworn to never depend on others for happiness, and  I’ve still  expected staggeringly high amounts of emotional reciprocation and validation.

If this reverberates with you, realize that a single cardinal trait is not your halo; the genesis of your best and seemingly “worst” aspects make you a breathing contradiction, which in turn, make you only more human. We often tend to conform to shades of black and white for clarity, but it is the ‘grey’ which is truly capable of defining us, without limiting us. You are, and never will be, constrained by a single dimension of personality traits, because you, my friend, are an indefinite growth in process; every present moment is working to help you evolve as an individual. Do these moments justice, because your power in the universe, at this very present moment, is limitless.

I give in to this conviction, and promise myself to keep learning, to treat every single experience as a lesson, and not restrict myself to beliefs that I consider of utmost importance today. Talk to me a year later, and I might just unabashedly rule out the person that I am, at this very second. I will mould and unmould, dismantle and assemble, rise and fall.

And this is why, I’m not a writer. I’m striving to be much, much more. Welcome to a new chapter, and seemingly innumerable ones that are to come. 

Not the best, just better than myself.

Fact : I've been ridiculed for listening to Honey Singh's music. 

Two years ago, in the 10th grade, I had an absurd music taste. I say "absurd", not because I find it so, but because I was constantly told this, and thus was conditioned to believe the same. Whenever I was questioned about WHY I had an affinity for an artist that makes music of absolutely no substance, my answer was simple: "It's because I can dance to it."

This, apparently was not an accurate justification, because it wasn't a dramatic one. No, this music did not evoke intense, heartfelt sensations. No, it didn't hit my emotions like a train wreck. It didn't bring back a plethora of relatable emotions or memories (for obvious reasons and you'll understand if you've ever paid close attention to his lyrics).It just made me want to let my hair down whilst finding compatibility with the beats. Yes, I can see the look of disapproval on your face. I didn't have the best taste in music, but what, in actuality, is "best"?  

By definition, it is something which is 'of the most excellent and desirable type of quality'. This word automatically implies a sense of competition, to constantly outwit anyone else that might be or might possess something that fulfills our idea of the 'finest'. Of course, this is extremely important, because attainment of satisfaction might stagnate progress and thwart one from discovering more. But more often than not, we tend be blinded by our definition of what is the 'best' and any taste that simply isn't congruent with our seemingly 'superior' one, just won't cut it. In short, mockery is more convenient than acceptance.

 Someone being essentially ‘different’ than us has more chances of being bullied than someone who isn’t. Views that seem alien to our beliefs are rejected and you’re already aware of how Aristole, Louis Pasteur and Amedeo Avogadro’s theories and breakthrough ideas were dismissed at first, following a worldwide embrace later on. I can’t begin to imagine how frustrating it would have possibly been to come up with an idea that stemmed from utter passion and brilliance, but being disregarded for seeming fallacious.

To put it differently, don’t you absolutely detest it when someone consoles you by stating a ridiculous notion of someone’s problems being worse than yours? Your struggle is different, and so is your perception of the same. A daily hassle for you might be a life event for someone else. No battle is big or small and no struggle can be compared to any other, because it isn’t like any other. It all depends on your outlook and perception is, of course, subjective. I know it looks like I’ve digressed massively from what we seemed to be talking about (we’ve trekked all the way from Honey Singh to Aristole), but my point here is, being so inherently different in our tastes, thoughts, behaviors and beliefs, how do we so conveniently challenge a concept that is not compatible with ours?

No, you are NOT better than me for pursuing a more promising career choice than me. No music taste is superior, you’re allowed to listen to whatever you feel like without terming it as a ‘guilty pleasure.’ Go ahead, post the series of selfies you took the other day, you’re allowed to invite judgments of ‘being self-obsessed’ without giving a shit about it. Flaunt parts of your body that you’re most confident about, even if you might not fit the society’s distorted idea of ‘beautiful’. Voice out that seemingly laughable and ludicrous doubt or idea in class. You’re allowed to strive to be better than the person you were yesterday, but dare you pull someone down for desperately trying to be their ‘best’. I've posted my  insignificant interpretation of  this 2 year old incident anyway, knowing that it probably doesn't make sense in the least. Remember that the world is yet to revel in all that you are and all that you dream to be. The easiest way to inhibit this celebration is to come dressed as someone else to the the party. 

Fact : I don’t listen to Honey Singh anymore, but you’re going to see me singing along and restraining some awkward dance moves the next time it plays,anyway.

Parts of me, bifurcated for you.

It’s not easy penning down facts on yourself when you realize that you’re a contradiction in layers, each one uncovering itself one by one. The concept of displaying vulnerability on social media is something that I've always wanted to attempt and here are a few facets of my personality that I wouldn't really share with you, if we were to talk in person. I’m aware that you might not be interested at all; but this was admittedly a desperate attempt to try and learn about the unspoken crevices of who I am.  If you care enough to go on, let’s begin my journey to self-discovery, shall we?

-I can only spin my words out of experiences and not imagination. Every single post on this blog is something that I've felt and these words, linking reality to paper, are mouthpieces of my own feelings.

- I’m an extremist when it comes to emotions.I can get as upset as possibly happy I always am, but you’ll rarely see me talking about it to you, no matter how close we are.

-Routines tire me. I love change.

-Nothing cripples me like the word "cancer" does.

- The song, ‘Tonight’- FM Static is one song  I haven’t heard in 4 years, because of the past that rapidly ignited into the present, when I did listen to it back then. Oddly enough, you’ll find me humming it occasionally.

- No, you’re not going to intrigue me if you’re cynical or rude because of a ‘heavy past.’ Being a decent person never hurts. Try glorifying your happiness instead of inflicting unnecessary impudence on people.

- You’ll find parts of your vocabulary and habits find home in mine if I’m fond of you. It’s a given.

-I can come across as someone who’s strangely apathetic towards most things that people thought I’d react to, but I am deeply sensitive. Major reason why I never take to criticism of any kind, kindly.

- I like giving people the satisfaction of knowing me.

- I have strangely never yearned romantic love and if it’s ever come across, it’s taught me to always consider it a want, and not a need.

- I’m aware that some of the people I’m close to today won’t matter ten years down the line. Moving on is indispensable and of course, beautiful.

- I’m capable of detaching myself from people effortlessly.

- I've gone through a phase where everything upset me and thus being happy, today, is far from an effort and more of a habit. Anyone who makes me even remotely sad is intolerable and I will not hesitate forgetting a thousand memories, just so that I can make a million more without their negativity in my life.

- My idea of love is acceptance. The reason I love myself this much is because I've come to terms with who I am.

 

- If I love you, I’d literally do anything to sustain the bond that we share. If I've grown to dislike you, you’ll never, ever hear from me again.

- I will get annoyed of you at one point if I get too much of you. I treat people like books; I’ll patiently read every emotion that you have to offer- but how long until I get bored of reading you again and again and move on to another book?

- I think I struggle with being taken seriously. I’m still working on it.

-I’m a realist, but would never shun the ideas of ‘forever’ that are existent in today’s friendships and relationships. Love is an escape from reality for millions and I find the concept of hoping in a hopeless world, beautiful.

- I will never forget you if you've ever helped me, no matter how insignificant you might consider your assistance to be.

- If you’re still reading this, I really don’t know what to say. I can’t see anyone as interested in knowing me, so a genuine thank you.

- I will not censor myself to adapt to your comfort. Don’t make the mistake of trying to change me, because you’ll unconsciously end up altering fragments of your own personality to suit mine.

- I tend to get very serious and personal during fights. I try my best to not argue with the people I love and therefore resort to the safer bet- ignorance. 

- I’m very, very loud. A part of it stems from being excited about everything all the time.

- I have immense respect for anyone who’s capable of performing any form of art, be it singing, dancing, writing or drawing. Feelings can prove to be suffocating and people who can mould them into an asset give me a lot to learn from.

- I skip meals either when I’m very disturbed or broke. There is no in between, haha.

- I've learned that everyone deserves someone who knows their standing with them. Therefore, I've taken it upon myself to openly appreciate the little things that people do for me, occasionally.

- I take secrets very, very seriously.

- I’m a nuisance when I cry. A nuisance not many people might be able to handle. The only person who’s seen me when I’m an absolute wreck, is my mother.

- I've been used as a boat to get on the other side of the storm, as a phase to get over the difficult times; only to be forgotten, later on.  It doesn't upset me one bit, though. You can’t make homes out of human beings, because eventually, you’ll have to leave.

Is this all that I am and all that I would never give away? I hope not, because I’m still game for new experiences to prove all my words above, redundant. To anyone who is capable of changing my own perception of who I think I am: Oh, won’t you sit down with me? 

Self love- A beauty in disguise?

"All I want is, and all I need is, to find somebody, I'll find somebody like you."

"But for you I'm never good enough."

"I finally found you, my missing puzzle piece."

"All I want to be is somebody to you."

"You're nobody till somebody loves you."


And there are countless other lyrics that I can quote as such, simply because at one point, I'd relate to them excessively and they held meaning for me. Not that I've completely denounced them today, but the simple gist of such songs,that is, being  obsessed about seeking someone to love, completely giving yourself to them, not knowing what to do without their smile, the meaning of life seemingly undecipherable in their absence- confuses me to an extent where I struggle to gain practicality out of these words that are so beautifully spun- and fail.

Yes,love coupled with infatuation and lust happens to the best of us and the desire to live or die for 'the one', still persists deep down in my cynic of a heart, but my question here is- Why have we been romanticizing love like we can't live without it?

No, this is not an article pleading hate against the idea of romantic love. Nor does it hide ruins of a broken heart, wanting to be heard out for once, seeking therapy in words. This is just a baffled mind thinking out loud- Do we really need a 'someone' (implying a romantic partner)  to survive the utter chaos of a world that we live in today? Is it necessary to have a pair of arms to fall back into when both the ends are breathing fire? To have yourself kissed where it hurts and until it hurts?

The fantasy of it is a burning reminder of how we all long to love and be loved like that one day, but sometimes, the imagination exceeds a limit where you do become it- a painful existence inhaling the need to be coupled with one's soul-mate, feeling incomplete without the same.

This is where i step in, and ask you to stop-
Ask you to stop waiting for someone to come around for you to be 'whole'. You'll lose yourself in partial 'almosts'.

Stop thinking about 'what could have been'. The ghost of it will haunt you forever, making you feel even more incomplete.

Stop thinking that you're lonely. Half the person within you is still waiting to be read, befriend him.

Stop self-harming for the sake of abusive or unrequited love. A part of your soul will starve in meaningless melancholy, fragments of your heart embezzled by physical pain and emotional stress; for a love that may or may not exist  in your heart, but shall definitely live on your wrists.

Stop making yourself a recluse in the memory of lost love.You're forgetting that a 'morning' succeeds the 'mourning.' Embrace optimism, and find happiness and love in little things that nurture your virtues. It isn't any less lovely, I promise you that.

We often forget that loving ourselves doesn't make us vain or self-obsessed, it just makes us invincible. So much so, that we're beyond the pain of people leaving and once they start slacking, we're aware that we'll be content without them.

Romantic love might dismiss all logic and exude you into an exalted state of living for the other half, but self love grants you an eternal sense of euphoria whilst sustaining your senses. Romantic love might blind you to fatal flaws, but self love is all-seeing and eye-opening. Romantic love might let you learn more about the other; self love grants you an insight into your own self.

Go out more often, meet the ones who love you back as much. Find solace in places that comfort you,but venture into the unknown once in a while. Go sit by yourself in coffee shops, leave notes in bathroom stalls, get drunk on dreams, be open to meeting as many as new people, make mistakes and joke about them the next morning. Laugh at your quirks, accept idiosyncrasy and think less about other's people opinion of you. Be their shoulder to cry on, but simultaneously accept the fact that it is impossible to be a storm of a person. Realize that it's okay to break down about small things and  be insecure every now and then. Yes, I'm asking you to start looking beneath the beauty that such small things could possibly hold, which you probably imagined with the person you're in love with at the moment. And they manage to sustain this beauty sans glorification of romance, don't you see?

Do not let the distorted image of love being circulated by the society fool you, darling. You're beautiful, enigmatic and possibly hilarious and you certainly do not need a lover telling you that. Build on friendships, and the day you decide to fall in love, I promise I'll be there. Just don't forget to love yourself.

Let go.

I feel lost. 
Lost not for words- they are exuded as rapidly as they can, flooding my eyes with all that has been and all that could have been. All that has been done, and all that is to come. There sure is a  light at the end of the tunnel, but you find yourself engulfed in a smog of darkness, desperate to reach out for  that one fragment of hope. 
I can be given up on, but cannot afford to give up.
I can cry, but cannot see through their glassy eyes. 
I'm here to listen whatever they have to say, but I'm afraid  to be heard. 
I don't mind losing them, but I'm afraid to let go. 
I don't want to be comforted, but I'm scared that I'm not being there. 

I've been asked to leave everything behind. Blur the past and unleash the future. Is it really that easy, I ask. 
I know that  I've always loved meeting new people. Getting to know them is a beautiful process, an intriguing indulgence. Either a beautiful cohesion is developed, or we find congeniality despite our differences. 
It's an exciting phase. Something that we must look forward to, only if the old ones hadn't given us so much to remember. 
The memories never become forlorn, but only ripen as we progress, in age and intellectuality. You're aware that there's a place in your heart that will always breathe to keep those memories alive. They only cease to exist when your heart stops beating. Till then, these moments, no matter how insignificant they are or purport to be, stay with you. 
That's when you feel that you've strayed- do you evade the past and embrace the future, or do you simply succumb to what's in store for you next ? It'll all iron out someday, I'm sure. It will, I know. 

Till that time, you're a bit dazed. Still figuring out where all the missing pieces are supposed to fit, still wondering why nothing's making sense yet. You needn't have all the answers, but not having the same answers fills you with a coveted desire to have them, nevertheless. 
All those things that you once loved doing become things you cannot get yourself to love, anymore. 
All those people you loved meeting once, becoming people you cannot look in the eye anymore. 
You miss how things used to be, but now you feel like running away, travelling the world, leaving everything behind for a momentary lust- secluded surroundings, cut off from all contact, living in a blissful world of oblivion sans pain.  
You're sick of not understanding and being the subject of constant misunderstanding. "I'm only human", You want to scream, but your voice is subdued by your emotions crashing down, reducing you to an earth-shattering bit of  nothingness, loneliness, emptiness. 

You cannot keep it to yourself anymore. You find yourself constantly wanting to be around people, as if it were a survival instinct. You cannot be left alone for too long, even though  that kind of separation is something you'd always longed for, but cannot live with.  

Thus, the constant, restive urge to not be lonely. To have other people talk, so that you don't have to think. To let them cry, so that you have reason enough to cry with them. To make small talk so that your real emotions remain concealed. To be there for them, so that you forget your own problems for a while. (Yes, Ananya, the credit goes to you). 

But sometimes, we need to get lost in order to find ourselves again. We need to drown, to learn what it is to be alive. We need to forget it all, to realize what we've been missing all this while. We need to risk everything, to know how much it could possibly mean to us. 

It's only idiotic to think so bloody much right now, since I've never really been the one to make and derive sense out of life. I'm not ready to let go of everything yet- and i might never be. But, it'll be okay. I'll cherish it all this summer. I'll let go of it later.