Of Hearts

I look back and I remember how my friends once told me over a chilly morning in October at school, how I am the worst at drawing hearts. I remember them saying how the two halves never resembled each other enough to convince anyone that it was a heart. Symmetry, they said, wasn't my forte.
As I draw, erase, and re-draw the heart over n over again I realize there was only truth in their sentences. May be I did suck at drawing hearts, maybe I sucked at understanding them too. The mechanisms that make it work smooth? My body mostly doesn't like it.

Maybe I have too much of a rebellious soul, the thought of which fucks me up because I? I don't even understand half the things. I've never understood how love works. I've never even understood what constitutes love. How two people feel so deeply for each other that they not only understand each others reasons but also appreciate the quirks. Why two people voluntarily already being complete wholes themselves choose to join the commitment wagon with another person. Perhaps I'm just scared. Or perhaps I'm just mirroring what I draw- stupid unsymmetrical hearts that convince no one of their reality and existence. Perhaps love too, is not my forte.

To Exist or Live?

You and I? We share stories.
Someone else shares pieces of their heart with the only person in the world they want to be with at that moment, when there is a soft Bruno Mars song playing in the background on a cool October evening.

You and I? We feel happy at the sight of a puppy.
Someone else falls in love with every broken piece that their heart already is, on the sight of the furry canine that probably wags their tail and runs upto them with half bouncy steps.

You and I? We admire our better halves.
Someone else truly understands and appreciates the grace with which they accomplish even the simplest of tasks, like breathing.

You and I? We love how cool the weather feels.
Someone else probably gets drenched in the aroma that tells them that every little thing you're worrying about is going to be alright.

You and I? We hold hands.
Someone else realizes the vitality of that moment to his existence, how this is the one moment he'd give up anything to have again, how time is his enemy then.

You and I? We fail.
Someone else gets crushed under the heavy weight of the baggage they've been carrying all their lives in the hopes that this one success will aid them to gather enough courage to get rid of all the guilt they've been carrying for things that weren't even their mistakes in the first place.

You and I? We read
Someone else out there lives on it. He breathes in literature and chokes Everytime someone stop reading out a write up out loud.

You and I? We exist.
Someone else lives.

Of Broken Bones & Heart

I like to think that there is a formula for pain,

A formula that balances your broken bones with my broken heart.
A formula that makes it evident that sounds of silence,

Are the same as loud jarring noises on lonely nights.

One that rolls up all the soft tendrils on the edges of the garden

And makes them as comprehensible as the flowers growing within it.

It turns and twists with the sad comedy,

That comes with the undeniable truth that “pain demands to be felt”.

One that sits neatly balancing the sorrow & despair, limitless,

Within this limited world.

One that makes it easy for me to hold large lies in my small hands,

And yet fight with closed fists that cannot be broken open by the toughest machines.

I like to think that there is a formula for pain,

A formula that balances your broken bones with my broken heart.

A formula that strains into existence the reality that an injury from a wayward branch scrapping your knee

Is just as awful as the desolation that crept up in the cells of my body after my first argument with him.

A formula that equates your agony while eating pizza alone after being fired

With my heartache while having dinner with friends and family after the breakup.

I like to think that there is a formula for pain,

A formula that balances your broken bones with my broken heart.

A formula tells you & me that the maps our arteries and veins have designed on our bodies

Are the only ones we should truly follow.

One that tells you as much as it tells me 

That there are affable beings and surreal happenings,

Waiting for us on the other side of this brokenness 

That is consuming us one heartbeat at a time.

I like to think that there is a formula for pain,

A formula that balances your broken bones with my broken heart.

Of Missing You

I've missed you. Terribly. Badly. Sadly. Madly.
Let's walk under the street lights,
Talk of love, loss, life,
And also about everything nice.
Let's pour out our hearts again,
Tell me about that girl once more
And oh! your favorite teacher too!
Talk me through your last day at school and the first day you won a quiz.
Tell me.
Come with me,
Let's make up new constellations as we spent the night star gazing.
In the morning I'll take you to my favorite spot in this city, we'll click pictures there and frame them.
If hunger bothers you, don't worry there is this place that I love but don't tell people about. I'll take you there and we can devour all the food you want.
But do not forget you'll have to hear me too.
You'll have to hear me tell you about my deepest insecurities,
How every time the clouds get together my face lights up.
I'll tell you about my dream
And how snow is so amazing.
Why I think surrealism is so important and violence, not.
I'll tell you things you should know.
I've missed you. Have you?

Loyola Love

Today is the 31^st of July. 2016. That implies two things: First, today is Loyola day! And Second, I've finished school already. But I couldn’t be less excited about today. Loyola has left such a lasting impression on me, it has polished my rough edges, taught me to stand a little taller, laugh a little louder and care a lot more. I remember when I first joined school in third grade I didn’t like it, and complained to mom about how “easy” maths was in ICSE schools (I did totally regret saying that in tenth though, before the boards, you know). The school however, as it turned out was not that bad a place. Few months in and I loved it, I enjoyed coming to a place where teachers were not only teachers but friends and guides, where seniors weren’t bossy and snobbish but cool and fun (also hot).

I had two sections when I began school. What actually happened was that a Father (or who i thought was a Father) told me I belonged to one particular section so i went there not bothering to check the notice for allotted sections. When the class teacher asked about my name not being on the attendance register i said, "Father told me I was in this section". After around two weeks the class teacher of my actual allotted section realized I was in school, she came to me and said that's your section, pointing to another classroom. So I had to go. The new section was equally great, and it made me understand how comfortable i had grown to be at Loyola.

But that is not all about Loyola! Frankly, there is just so much about Loyola i couldn’t fit it in here even if i tried.  Loyola led me to discover so many things, it honed talents, built some and the best thing it never imposed conformity rules about who one should be- you do you but be kind, that's Loyola. (it is also “ In all things to love and to serve.”) Thanks to Loyola I have amazing friends, great teachers, some stupid crazy memories but many totally awesome ones too. The nuances of the mundane survival in Loyola seem like one the most magical things that happened. Few days back while talking about Loyola, my friend and I tried to figure out why we love it as much as we do; turns out that it was not that Loyola just educated us in the conventional sense(which it did) but it also taught us about things beyond the pages of a book, of things that are so necessary for surviving today which come to us as second nature because they’ve been so deeply ingrained into our personalities. It completed a huge fraction of our being. L for Loyola, L for love. Loyola is and always will be “A school with a difference!”

Words

Words are just alphabets put together to mean something or indicate a certain thing that we want to express. That’s what you are doing- you are reading the alphabets I put together as words, spaced them and followed certain rules while doing that so that they could make sense. Words thus are a paradox- they are ordinary and yet in the same moment they are magical. They are magical – they can transport you to lands where you want to be, they can make you meet men, women, kids, animals, anyone or anything you want. You can stand there, stay there, dance or do anything you want without being judged. You can possess things that are not possible by the laws of science or by the stretches of rationality. You can bathe in the moonlight and dance in the soft mellow sunshine while wearing that dress you always loved, stare at those snow capped mountains and yet, and yet, stay true to your soul. You can travel to imagination and beyond, yet not move an inch.

Remember when you were a kid and the most difficult words that came out of your mouth were that you hadn’t finished your assignment? Then that changed to confessing what you felt in actuality to that one person you thought should know? And it later changed to taking a stand for yourself, making your own decisions ? You've perhaps not spared moments for this contemplation, but that's what you've done- you have used words. You have used an instrument of magic to cruise through the mundane. You've shared extensions of your being to pass through this illusion called life using some of the most underrated faculties of speaking, writing, expressing, through words. You have done the same thing the emperor did, and the same thing the pauper did, you have used words. It's just the difference of how you used them that brought you to where you are now.

So use them wisely. Use them after thought, spare yourself moments to think about the ones you speak, read or write. Make some positive changes. You never know when your one compliment might make the difference that you've always wanted to make in your life. 

                                                                         *****

Existences

Source: @kashmirthroughmylens

I've been reading about people visiting Kashmir and Thailand

To find pieces of themselves

I've read them write about their conversations with silence, 

How the sight of their beloved changes the view of the world for them.

I've been reading about mountains that offer company to the loneliest of souls, 

And the seas that seem to stretch beyond the universe

People have found pieces of themselves traveling with strangers, 

While trading stories with them.

They've discovered that their true guide is the heart and not the map.

They've lived life, seen new places,

While I?
I stay here within the same geographical boundary I was a week ago and yet,
Yet, I feel I discover my existence in their words.

Will You Know?

On some evenings,
I wonder,
I wonder who painted the sky so blue,
Who mixed the day & night,
And decided that we should be.
Did He?
Or was it a She?
Was there ever any one?
Maybe the stars just exist,
And sun just shines
By the laws that we humans devised.
Perhaps, magic is just an excuse to excite ourselves,
And dreams of love are frail thoughts let loose.
Who knows?
Did the poets get a glimpse?
Or did the science men discover?
Of the great reality we talk so easily.
Will I ever know?
Will you?

To The Shore

I left you on the shore: To wash yourself, to let you live your life your way. I left you there because I saw no other alternative. I left you there because it was the only way for a peaceful existence. I left you, yes I did, because that’s what you wanted. We’d been trying so hard for months to fit in, to make it work for us, but it never did. We were always weirdos for the world. And it is the bitter truth that the world doesn’t want diversity if it threatens them, it only desires diversity that it can co-exist with, understand, and if required overpower. There is no place for two green skinned humans to survive here. There is no way we would be accepted for who we are. The world here works in weird ways you see - humans are divided into so many divisions of race, caste, sex, nationality and so on that it at times makes me wonder if they do really remember their true purpose, their true nature. I guess we’ll never know. It as mystic to us as we must be to them, if they knew us. But they don’t. Nor will they ever know.

You remember when we first woke up to our reality? How frightened we were? How afraid of not only ourselves but also of the world we were? I remember you said you felt “different but in a mixed way”. I’ve always wondered why you said “different in a mixed way”, it wasn’t until our argument few days ago that I realized what you truly felt. I did know but I didn’t. I hope you get it, because it is the only way I can put it in words. Your elation at discovering that we were the ones who were supposed to better life here was un-miss-able. You sang your plans to me for a long while. After that, I saw you grow sad. I didn’t comprehend. But now I know, I feel your inhibition and I’m so sorry to say that it is your inhibition which has made you leave.  To be frank, I understand the world doesn’t want to see us for who we are or get to know us, it just wants us to get into the existing groove of monotony that their lives are. So we paint ourselves. We paint ourselves every weekend from head to toe in paint, into a colour that not only covers our skin but also makes it impossible to distinguish us from other humans. I remember when once the post man saw a little of green on my palm he cursed at me and threatened to shoot me. This was when he wasn’t even aware of the reality of my green skin. We have to live a false life. We have to.

To be honest we were doing so well. Waking up every morning, getting dressed, going to work, coming back and sleeping at night. We had fit in amazingly when suddenly you began to feel different about our mutual plan of living as normal humans do. You started yelling about “not fulfilling our real purpose”, of being sucked into the luxury, of forgetting our roots, our mission here. You wanted to remove the paint, go out in the green coloured skin and do the work you were supposed to do. You wanted to be yourself and were tired of putting up a facade. But. What you don’t realize is that this is the only way we can survive. This is the only way we get to live. If we bared ourselves to the world we wouldn’t receive appreciation, admiration or anything positive that you have in mind; we will instead be ridiculed, punished, interrogated, looked at with suspicious eyes, be subjected to researches and tests. We won’t be able to live.

I’ve tried so many times to make you understand these tiny truths that people appreciate you until you threaten them. I’ve told you there is no place for being real, living without a facade here but you won’t agree. You’ve set your mind on being “The True You”. This hurts my chances of survival here and puts me in the direct purview of suspicion if anything were to happen to you. I’m going to go back and live on with the paint. It is the only way to survive. I cannot allow this. I can’t allow you to be you. That is why I’ve brought you here today, to the shore. To the place where you said you feel nice and real. I’ve brought you here so that you can feel that way always. I’ve brought you here so that you can wash off your paint. So that you can be You.

 

Two Boats

Well it’s been a long journey. And I’m not yet tired. There is still so much left to explore and discover, and even if we run out of things to explore and discover we will have a nice time basking in the memories of our journey. Although a part of me wants that this journey never end, and we travel together all the time, but another part of me knows that this will not be possible. We can’t be in the same boat when we have to travel to different destinations. So unwillingly I have to accept the inevitability of the fact that you and I will travel in different boats for quite some time now.

I know that even though our destinations are different and we both are equally unsure about our reaching them in time, we are guided by the same drive: hunger for achievement. All psychology students will tell you there are primarily four drives in a human being. I consider the drive for achievement to be the dominating one in both of us. After all, we didn’t come onto earth to live and soak in its beauty without contributing to it in whichever way possible. And when we have a chance to choose the way, why not choose the best and make it large?

At times, the way we’ll choose will make us run after it, run all through the day. There will be a point where we’ll feel like giving up on the chosen way and also, on ourselves. Ah! But that is the real test of passion, to hold onto your choice even when nothing around you seems to be making sense. To stay with your choice when the world is telling you to give up. To stay determined. There are ought to be moments when you feel down but remember your greater purpose, the reason for your drive and keep moving. There is no problem if you move slowly; the problem arises if you refuse to move. So don’t.

There will be moments of utter happiness and satisfactions too, enjoy them, but also know that they too, like moments of sorrow are temporary. Remember when Chandragupta Maurya won a battle he did not spend away all night celebrating, he rather started to plan his next move. We need to move with that focus. We need to make our names that large, so that kids centuries after us, know who we were and why we were.

Needless to say there will always be up and downs and we have to face them both with equal courage and foresight. The reason why a term for a roller coaster going only up isn’t coined is because it is highly improbable. The two have to co-exist, up and down, black and white, sweet and sour; that’s what makes our little time on earth worthy of remembering.

We both are similar and not same. I don’t expect you to take the same decisions I consider right, but I do expect you to not take a different decision just because I chose the one you wanted. We can share.

What remains at the end of the day is only how much we contribute, in our own ways, and how close did we get to our greater purpose. I hope we both always remember this and keep moving. After all, there is going to be a time when we both will be on the same boat, for the same destination, again.

This is a piece of work I wrote for my best friend an year ago and never had the wish to email it.