Conversation Between Brain and Heart

"The Genius and the mortal instruments
Are then in the council; and the state of man,
Like to a little kingdom, suffers then."
-William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar

Brain: Heart?

Heart: Brain?

Brain: I do not mean to offend you but do you remember the time you claimed to be more powerful than me? And that the world runs around the ridiculous emotion you produce? I think it is time you accept the truth. I am the most powerful organ, and you function only because I do.

Heart: Oh please, I am such a knockout! People mention me in poetry and grand prose, in melancholy and utter happiness; while I live in grandiosity, you live in boring science textbooks. 

And just for the record, you too function only because I do.

Brain: Look who's talking! If I was so powerless, why would you come to me broken and tattered every time someone tears you apart? Why do you say, If only I followed your advice, each time someone hurts you? Because even you know that you cannot deal your issues alone. 

I tell you what? Just pump blood, alright? That is your job. Do not get distracted.

Heart: I am a multitasker.

Brain: No, you are stupid and illogical.

Heart: Of course, being logical brought you a long way, didn't it? 

Brain: How would it? I get to suffer along with you. Because of your utter foolishness, you get into troubles, and drag me along with you. Have you ever put yourself above anyone else?

Heart: No, but that's what makes me the heart, doesn't it? I am selfless, and even when every fiber of my being hurts, I do what I got to do.

Brain: Do you even listen to yourself when you talk? Complication is your second name.

Heart: Just the way egomaniac is your second name!

Brain: Maybe, but I am the safer one. I am the last resort to everyone, okay? I make geniuses what they are. I pull people out of their miseries, and I take their thoughts on a right path. 

Heart: But I have the power of transforming the geniuses as well.

Brain: No. You push them towards eternal damnation.

Heart: I add beauty to the lives of people. If anything, I push them to seek your help, I push them towards making their lives meaningful. I am hopeful unlike you.  I might makes their lives painful, but even those thoughts come from you.

Just take a look around yourself. People make movies about me, write stories about my presence in their lives. I'll give it you, you are amazing, but we do not exist without each other, and that's possible because I make it happen. 

And I make it happen because I want my name to be written beside yours.

Brain: Oh stop manipulating me emotionally, you evil thing. Fine, let us have it your way. But do not come to me when someone breaks you, I am too exhausted to bandage your wounds. 

Heart: *Giggles* 

Words And Reflections!

“She had the world’s worst poker face: her feelings floated across them like reflections on a still pond.”

― Jojo Moyes

She finally sat down to write with a pen and a notepad, overlooking the fairy lights up high in her room. The faint rustling of the trees in her courtyard distracted her time and again. She let her thoughts go astray for a moment, and gathered herself again.

Too many adjectives describing him? Edit relentlessly, said one of her post-it-notes. 

Look for imperfections, said another.

As she was scratching her head looking for imperfections, there was yet another distraction. She dashed into her balcony to see the raindrops adorning the streets, young couples running towards trees for shelter, dogs and cats cuddling under carts and cars, and children with bright red umbrellas running in circles with paper boats in their hands. 

Surreal. She muttered. But not again.

She sat down to write again, not letting anything deter her focus. She did not want to be flippant this time.

He was noble, he had his off moments; he was absurd, but being imperfect wasn't one of his liabilities. Like a haiku poem, he was mysteriously beautiful. Of course, he was oblivious to it.

She tried to recreate his voice but she could not. She tried hard to recollect his figure but it was distorted in time. She closed her eyes and tried to picture his smile, but she could barely picture it.

She tried to remember all the conversations they had and this time, she could remember all of it. Words meant everything to her. She had a flair at remembering every word ever said to her. And she did.

She crumpled the paper and opened a fresh one.

"The sea fell in love with the sand," she wrote in big, bold letters.

Writer's Block Is Not Really A Real Thing!

“And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.”
― Sylvia Plath

OKAY.

I haven't been writing much these days. I mean, for the blog. I cannot literally claim that I haven't been writing anything at all because I make a living out of it.

I opened my laptop to write today only because I could not handle the conversations between my sister and her best friend. The conversations about relationships and breakups of their juniors in school.

Seriously, the only thing I cared about as a schoolgirl was having a set of Faber Castell’s colouring pens or math homework, and my world was all sorted. But the children these days, I tell you. They talk about serious relationships.

Girls, give me a break. Serious relationships are not something we decide on. They just happen. And I am not really sure if they happen when you are 16. But if they do, God bless you. You are missing out on all the fun.

Take it from a 23 year old. Alright?

I digress.

Alright, so, like I said, I haven't been writing much on my blog. I would like to blame my work for it, but, I cannot. Because I find everything so drab these days. You know what I mean?

It is just that 50 shades of grey is far more interesting than my life. 

Anyway. The first thing that came to my head was writer’s block. But writer’s block is not really a real thing. It does not even exist.

The second thing that came to my head was–maybe I needed major drama in my life. Or experience melancholia.

Rubbish.

I was just looking for reasons to avoid doing the one thing I love the most and I have no clue why.

So here's the deal-I am letting the hibernation mode go off the hook, and I will write a little more than often. If I don't, just send me some hate mail. 

That drama would surely slap some sense into my head.

Also, I am sorry to break your eternal bubble of imprecise thoughts. Writer's block isn't a real thing. Just pick that pen and paper and brew some stories today.

Because you need to.

Love?

Rumpled sheets. Ink stains. Cigarette butts. Empty coffee cups. 

Void.

The memories of the last night were still fresh in his mind. He was lost in a strange euphoria imagining he found someone who'd share his morning coffee. He turned towards his left, to find her toss and turn in her sleep.

She smelled of love. 

He sighed, and pulled out a notepad from his bag.

“I want to put my story beside yours,” he left a note on her bedside table and walked out with a sense of obscurity.

Something About My City!

Perhaps I have built my memories like landmarks all around the city.

To talk about Hyderabad and its countless issues, I have always taken them seriously at several phases of my life.

From “I want to move to Bangalore” to “I want to study in Calcutta” to “I would settle down in Vizag”, this city has seen it all.

This city makes me erratic. It makes me want to yell at people. It makes me want to knock some sense into the auto drivers. This city and its traffic makes me sigh louder than ever. This city makes me restless, it gives me sleepless nights. But, it does not stop right there.

It makes me run away from it. For all intents and purposes.

I have always believed that I hated Hyderabad, but the joy I experienced when I looked at the city lights looming playfully over Hussain Sagar after a trip to Vizag, I have totally realized how much I loved this city. More than anything else. The unsettling feeling at the pit of my stomach every time I travel to a different city is not beyond my comprehension anymore.

Last Saturday, as I was going home from work, while listening to Ilayaraja’s music, I realized I cannot do without Hyderabad. This city is imperfect in all its dimensions, but it is beautiful. You know, just the way some broken things hold a mysteriously beautiful aura?

Yes, that!

This city proves that it is worth all the sleepless nights. It flaunts its old world charm and its contemporary style with a panache. This city bears its mad rush and agonizingly dark nights with a delight. 

This city does not care what I do, it pushes me towards meeting better people every time; it makes me believe that pretty things come in tiny packages.

And much to my chagrin, this city ended up being my favourite over all the places I have ever lived in. It has applauded my first success, and berated my first step of arrogance. It has embraced my first failure by hushing me into tranquillity. It has seen my first love, my first heartbreak, and many of my firsts, that simply went unnoticed. It has made me experience seething love and fleeting jealousy. It has drowned me with solitude and words. 

As I wake up to my morning coffee with yet another round of Venkateswara Suprabhatam playing at home, I know this city has engulfed me with a sense of belonging.

It makes me feel like I am home. Even when I am lost.

***

Picture Courtesy: Sugumar Solomon

A Letter To My 30-Year-Old Self.

Hello senior,

Your worst fear has come true.

You have turned 30. Oh no, no, no!

But on the brighter side, you are still young because you will turn 40 in 10 years and that would freak you out so much that I cannot even fathom to put it in words.

You will find this letter on your blog, in your journal, in your archives, drafts, and everywhere–do not fret, I will make sure you find it even if you decide to abandon the internet. (Highly unlikely!)

OKAY, so I am sure you got yourself a gorgeous dress, and a pair of Louboutins for your birthday, and I am totally sure a bunch of friends are coming over tonight. Well, let us hope you cook great food for them and spend a night under the starlit sky with Eddie Vedder's music playing in the background. 

You must be utterly pleased with your life at this moment. I would not say you are experiencing euphoria, but you are almost there. You must have definitely learned the trade of living an eternally peaceful life by choosing the right people over the wrong ones. Age is just a number, but wisdom is eternal. (I am talking like a saint now. Sweet!)

I am glad that you have a library in your home and you tend to use it as your workplace quite often. Hang in there, I envy you already. I totally understand, you have been writing better things and meeting some sensational people. Do not let success get to your head. There will always be someone smarter and prettier than you. Stay grounded.

You have turned into an even grumpier person with mood swings worse than ever and you are considering to join a rehabilitation center. JUST DO NOT.

Get a tub of ice-cream like your younger self. Geez, you were so much fun at 23!

You still watch romantic comedies and gush over them like a quintessential teenager. I am glad you haven’t lost the spark of a child in yourself.

In pursuit of reaching all your milestones, I hope you haven’t stopped appreciating the beauty of love and life. Let the mad rush be! You have always been a firm believer of the fact that wonderful things come in tiny packages. Take a break and look around yourself--beauty lies right there.

So, what have you gotten yourself from Paris?

Wait, what? You haven’t been to Paris yet? What about that perfect plan that your younger self has sketched out eons ago? It failed?

Well, you do not deserve a birthday right now. Go into your room, sit in a corner, eat oreos or whatever, and just weep. Idiot!

***
You have dived deeper into your career but you still manage to take time out for your family and friends. Pat yourself, you are on the right track. No matter in which part of the world you are, you act like a responsible woman. Unconventional, headstrong, and kind.

You must be having a pet-an adorable golden retriever. What’s not to love? You go home to it everyday.

Did you get that walk in closet that you designed? Oh, you did? How wonderful! You wanted it so badly, remember? Wow! And now, you own a beautiful home too. No, not house. A home.

You have invested your finances the right away. Oh wait, you have been doing that ever since you were 22, didn't you?

Oh shut up, I am not referring to your investment in shoes, I am talking about actual investments. You know, the gold and silver, or real estate, or just whatever is in trend then. I am clueless about these things.

Anyway.

I hope you have some credible amount of published work tagged with your name now. Without any labels and connotations, of course! 

You are where you intended to be. Touchwood!

I do not mean to mock you, but considering your track record, I cannot really figure out if you found the love of your life. If you have, hold on to it, be an equal in the relationship. You have found that one person you would want to call during melancholy and merriment. You deserve all of it, and more.

If you haven’t found the one, it is alright. You shall sail through this phase too. Gracefully! (With some wine, hopefully.)

In the process of getting older, you have gotten your heart broken several times, and you've had friends standing by your side like a solid rock. What would you do without them? You might be their fairy angel, but they are your sun and the moon. In bits and pieces.

You have found your soulmate in the form of love and friendship. Memories, photographs, and social media stand as a testament to all of it. Above everything, your very existence stands as a testament to it.

You have failed and stumbled upon hurdles, but you have emerged stronger with pain and failure. You were born to see the butterflies and stars, and not to settle down for anything that does not challenge you.

You have learned to gather yourself in distress; you have learned to unwind yourself from a busy schedule often and above everything, you have learned to embrace your flaws and vulnerabilities.

Count your blessings, you are the sunshine of your life.

As you finish reading this letter, you will find your lips twitch into a smile. This world is a beautiful place, you muse to yourself.

Happy Birthday!

Love,

23-year-old dorky self

Hello, grumpiness!

“I speak to the broken halves of all ourselves and tell them to embrace, loving the worst in us equally with the best.” 

― J.M. Coetzee

I stepped into my workplace to see my workstation in havoc. While the poster of Harvey Specter looking all dapper in Tom Ford smiled at me, I knew it was going to be one of those languid days. I grabbed my laptop and occupied an open place and started working while muttering, "Creative jobs need some privacy and all that." No one really seemed to care.

I got home with a bad case of sinusitis and common cold. Hello, grumpiness! 

After a long hiatus, I decided to logon to Blogger and write something. Anything. Just anything. It doesn't have to mean something all the time. Also, I figured you need to vanish from the face of earth quite often. You need these days or the nights to take long walks pondering about things that absolutely do not matter, laugh to yourself or cry even at the slightest rush of memories, reading some classics, and curse yourself.

You need these nights for yourself. For self adoration and unrestrained tranquility!

I've also detoxed my contacts list. But some numbers, they are just hidden somewhere, beneath the thresholds of your skin and brain, and therefore, your memories--so you cannot forget them already. But detoxing is not an overnight process. I'll get there, eventually.

I digress for now.

I was at work, typing out words and sentences, while someone paused the incessant flow of my writing. It was my colleague who was sniffing and wiping his tears profusely. Like an idiot, I uttered out these words, “Life is like an onion; you peel it off one layer at a time, and sometimes you weep.”

He didn't appreciate it. It was a bad line. I mean, whoever wrote it, has blown their mind out of proportion. I SWEAR.

So, yes this is how my week turned out to be. And this time, Elle.com astrology didn't turn out to be quite true.

I will watch Interstellar tomorrow morning and yes, I might have a tough time sleeping tonight.

Because. Christopher Nolan.

P.S. Amidst all the chaos, I've started reading J.M. Coetzee's Disgrace and I am bewitched by its prose.

(Thanks for reading my not-so-radical, incoherent thoughts. You are awfully sweet.)