Of Impromptu Birthday Plans and Ghost Stories.

It was my childhood friend’s birthday yesterday. Our impromptu planning led us to do really stupid things. Of course, they were totally funny. I guess all the things you do with your friends end up being great. In pursuit of killing the time period between breakfast and lunch, we watched a 4D movie called Hell Ride with Ghosts. Now, this wasn’t the first 4D movie I watched. I have watched and enjoyed a couple of them earlier, and few were scary too. But this one did it to me. It was outright annoying with the chairs swaying for no reason whatsoever and not even matching the scenes on the screen. It was filled with women and a child wearing utterly dirty clothes, smeared with blood, doing gory things to a guy. Ghosts in white are alright, but ghosts with blood dripping from their arms and eyes are not cool. There were many instances in the movie that made me go eww, and I was forced to close my eyes.

All this, of course, like always, led me to another thought. Ever wondered how we are all fascinated with the idea of ghosts? Any conversation about anything supernatural is intriguing. We read books, we watch sitcoms and movies based on supernatural beings and find them ever so gripping. But how many of us actually believe in the monsters under our beds, or a ghost with twisted feet lurking in our neighbourhood? Yes, we don’t! Some of them might believe in them. I really don't know know.

One of the fondest memories from childhood would always be include staying up till wee hours of the night with my cousins and urging my grandmother to narrate stories of ghosts and haunted mansions. On the days she would, it was a treat for us, but later in the night we would either refuse to turn off the lights or tug at each other in sleep.

Such is the fright. Sometimes.

This reminded me of yet another incident that happened last week. I came home from work late one evening and my mother rushed into my room to fill me on the latest gossip of the colony. As it turned out, my neighbours had an experience with a spirit. They claimed to have heard vague footsteps of someone at 12:30 AM. Terrified to no end, they vacated that floor instantaneously and huddled downstairs, shivering and waiting for the dawn to break. That morning, they made it a point to visit all the temples and churches in the vicinity.

I was baffled.

The footsteps they heard were mine. My balcony is right beside their bedroom and I was talking on phone. If only they peeped out of their window, they would have seen me.

They would have known it wasn't the ghost.
Boy, I did scare them a lot, didn’t I?

And we blame the poor little ghosts for everything.

P.S. Happy Birthday, Aditya! Here's to a healthier and wealthier year ahead.

Writing Woes: Looking for Inspiration

Hello!

If you’re wondering where I’ve vanished or if I’ve died, let me tell you that nothing of that sort has happened.

I haven’t been writing much. No, I am not busy either. If you were on Instagram, you would have known that all I do is consume gallons of coffee. But the good part is, I have been reading a lot.

Let me tell you this though. A lot of terrible questions have been lurking in my head.

Why am I unable to string words together to form meaningful sentences? Why am I unable to produce stories out of my imagination? Am I waiting for an inspiration to appear from thin air? Or is this just a phase that’ll pass?

I have tried looking for reasons too.

Maybe it is because I am watching too much of Gossip Girl. I hit my head to the wall two weeks ago, maybe it is all that? Or perhaps I am waiting for something dramatic to happen in my life.

Funnily enough, I am able to do my writing work at office or the freelance ones. Of course, it might be the fear of not getting paid that is driving me to write them.

So, no more Gossip Girl. And no more binge watching sitcoms that are lame.

In fact, no more waiting for inspiration like Carrie Bradshaw.

Let’s see how this works.

P.S. I have a nostalgic post lined up in a day or two. Send me hate mail if I don’t blog regularly.

Love Has A Universal Echo, Okay?

There was a point of time when I would write poems on anything. The last time I wrote a poem was for a boy who is not my muse any longer. I cannot write poems that often now.

Today, the internet connection at work was pretty cranked up and I was forced to pick my pen and journal to gather my lost thoughts.

It is said that love has a universal echo. I am also a firm believer of it. Most of the people too claim that they believe in it. Then why are we against homosexual couples, same sex marriages? With the Internet flooding with the thoughts, memes, petitions against homosexual couples, multi-coloured profile pictures on Facebook, maybe we must realize that there is nothing unnatural about people from same gender falling in love. Maybe it is high time even we progress with the world, and maybe this is just another evolutionary process.

Sure God created Adam and Eve, but God also created love and I am guessing it is the people who lay out these rules. Nope, not God. He has better things to do. However, I do not want to get into the nitty-gritty details of the human creation, but here’s the deal --there is nothing unnatural about it. And if you still say it is unnatural, well then let’s have it this way, nothing that is beyond our comprehension deserves our contempt.

It deserves curiosity perhaps, but not disgust.

My attempt might be futile, but this is a tiny poem (I am afraid I cannot even call it a poem) I have written on this:

Tainted and broken, he looked at the world with an uncertainty,

Misunderstood and mistreated, he fervently hoped for a miracle,

But when he walked down the aisle for him, he was no longer blemished,
In love, he found answers to all his questions.

Love certainly has a universal echo and let this be a beginning to a lot of positive changes in the world.


P.S. Talk about this instead of changing fancy multi-coloured display pictures on Facebook.

***

Picture: This picture has been taken from one of the wedding shots of Neil Patrick Harris (Our lovable Barney Stinson) and David Burtka.

On Turning 24!

“Good friends, good books, and a sleepy conscience: this is the ideal life.”

― Mark Twain

It has been six days since I turned 24. Neither do I feel older nor have I turned wiser.

When I was a child, I assumed being 24 was all about having the freedom to eat chunks of chocolate cake at midnight. At 24, I totally know that it is not about eating cake.

I guess it has never really been about the cake.

On the verge of sounding almost cynical and lame, I tried figuring out what I really wanted to do in my life. Aren't birthdays just a reminder to take a solid resolution every year?

Let me tell you about my visit to a local bookstore with my mother. 

The man at the bookstore, who owns and runs the place greeted my mother with the books of her favourite writers. It was strange how he remembered the names of writers and their books at his fingertips. He spoke about Ernest Hemingway as if he saw him writing The Sun Also Rises; he talked about Stephen King as if he confided in him. He talked about Rilke and his ever famous letters like he had one of the letters. He spoke about stories and poems--stories that talked about death and poems that reminded him of his childhood. He spoke about it all with a spark in his eye while I stood there, listening to him in awe. I never imagined a person who might turn 60 in a year or two would see the world by simply sitting in the corner of a quaint bookstore. I never imagined someone would tell me so many beautiful things about the writers I loved.

On my way back home, I figured what I really wanted. 

I wanted someone to talk about my words as if they were written for them, I wanted someone to remember my sentences that flow irrationally in different directions with a glint in their eye. It does not matter even if it was just one person.

But I want that. And how do I do that?

Yes, now it all comes down to one thing - Do more. Write more.

This birthday resolution, honestly, is a part of me being selfish. I will talk more about the resolution soon.

***

This birthday has been quite eventful. I have celebrated it for three days. (I know. I allow you all to take a minute to roll your eyes.) I am overwhelmed with the amount of love and warmth I have received not just from my family and friends, but from strangers and my blog readers too. You all add beauty to my chaos.

I have received a lot of beautiful presents but one thing that has moved me immensely was a letter from my best friend. Thanks a lot for such a beautiful letter, Asisha! You have made my birthday special in many million ways.

That’s what friends do, don’t they? They make their presence and words felt even when we are engulfed with silence and isolation.

And then, there are the other friends who are equally lovely and push me towards taking control of my happiness, and urging me to be wise about choosing the right people and right things. And then, there are more friends who make me appreciate the beauty of the endless sky and sparkling stars.

Thanks a lot for making my birthday wonderful. This post might be a blend of a lot of incoherent thoughts running wild in my head. But my affection and thoughts for you are not incoherent.

As I end this post, let me tell you another thing. Turning 24 is not that bad. I imagined it would be worse when I turned 23.

Looks like it can only get better from here. Good night, everyone!

P.S. I look forward to a similar kind of love and pamper on other days too. Feel free to do so!

A Summer Night Rhapsody

My obsession with nights and the urge to stay awake till the wee hours of mornings began at a very tender age. Be it studying for the next day’s test or to derive pleasure from reading comics, I liked to do them in the solitude of night. The fact that nights are so serene and beautiful, with a sky full of stars enticed me into doing a lot of things, albeit making me an anti-social human.

I don’t know what kept me hooked on to the night. Maybe it was the joy of creating something at 12 A.M. Maybe it was the first poem that I have written at 2 A.M. Or maybe it was the flow of thoughts that walk with a panache into my head after 11 A.M. Nights have always been perfect.

Summers at my grandparents’ place were quite lively when I was a child. My cousins and I would exchange stories on paranormal activities, and most of the times we made them up. I still remember those nights when we would sit up on the terrace, often jumping on the water tank, and just talk. Those were the nights when even the fireflies participated in our conversations-brightening the dark night time and again. I still cannot fathom why even the most mundane things seemed interesting during those nights, because the entire magic of our conversations would vanish into thin air in the mornings. Now that I think of it, most of my cousins are highly reluctant to stay up late now. Quite funnily, even I find it atrocious to sacrifice my nights over them. But who stays awake in the nights? Apart from musicians trying to compose their best tunes, writers trying to put words on paper, lovers mending their broken hearts, watchmen witnessing stories of their lifetime (or not), burglars, and animals.

I know, that's a lot of people.

Anyway.

Some nights could be quite eventful. Even when they are absolutely simple. It is said that beauty lies in little and the simplest of things. 

Tonight, as I stood in the balcony talking to a friend, it started raining. Instead of running into my room, I stood there, letting my senses soak in the aroma, and closing my eyes for a moment. As I opened my eyes, I saw the dog in my colony cuddle with two cats under one roof; I could see a girl cooking in the kitchen and tasting piping hot food right from the bowl, a child pillion riding and tugging on to her father closely.

It does not matter even if all these things have happened in a flash of a moment, it does not matter if they were just fleeting moments. They reminded me how much I loved and adored the nights, again.

And on days like these, only nights will have their say, making me stand by the window a little longer than the usual.

Almost Twenty Four.

It looks like I am turning 24 in 13 days. Wow!

I have always been a huge fan of birthdays. Mostly, because of the cake. But even otherwise, I am always the weird one waiting for my birthday.

I have been hunting for the perfect dress for two weeks now. Though I found one, I am yet to get another one. And I don’t know why, I am really counting on getting the best dress ever. I have been receiving really wonderful presents and thoughtful letters from friends all over the world. I have made plans already. I am pretty excited, but I am little worried too. I am turning 24. Age might just be a number, but the last time I checked I was still 17. It does sound like a big deal to me.

Over the past few days, I have been trying to figure out the things I have done, and the mistakes I have learned from. I do not want to tread on the path of philosophy, but I am where I intended to be.

Over the past 23 years, 11 months, and 16 days, I have transformed from an introvert to an almost extrovert. I have started talking about things that matter to me--my blog is the proof to it. No matter where I am, and how old I get, I have always dreamed of being close to Literature. I am glad I haven’t given up on that dream. I am writing and I will always write. Of course, it did require a great deal of push from a corporate job to realize what I really wanted.

I have fallen in love. I have gotten my heart brutally broken. While one part of it urged me not to give up, the other part has constantly reminded me that I am what I am because of it. And honestly, it helped me realize that I have to let go of the life I planned ever so delicately to embrace the one that’s waiting for me. I am all about adventure now!

I have made friends at the oddest of moments and the unlikeliest of places. While some keep me sane, some run wild with me. I had to go through a slightly harder path to understand that you got to fight hard to keep your friends closer, and your family together. My friends are incredibly amazing. Even if they abuse me for not taking their calls. Even if they embarrass me at places I love the most.

I have kept two journals every year for a long period of time now. At the end of the year, as per my traditional calls, I destroy them. Only after keeping a copy of the really good ones.

Often you meet friends in the form of books and seek comfort in words. I have found one book 13 years ago and I go back to it time and again. That book has been a part of my life in sickness and joy. And my choice in music, my choice in music is getting better with time.

Something doesn't seem right though. On the outer shell, everything appears to be perfect. Almost 24 and I haven’t traveled even decently. What a shame! Sure, I have started taking my investments seriously, but what is the point if I am not putting them into use? Honestly, and quite seriously, I got to tick a few places off my list.

What else is on my mind? Ugh, I will just put travelling on my list of things to do for now.

I got to go get a new dress now. My birthday is just around the corner.

And oh, I will tell you all how it feels on turning 24.

Win Some, Lose Some.

I have never been a huge fan of losing things.

In my world, winning is, quite obviously, the winner.

It looks like the equation has been changing lately. Not that I am really losing out on things. Or to be more precise, people. But I have been making a lot of revisions to my life, and editing the terrible things quite relentlessly - all to make my 24th birthday lovelier than ever.

Metamorphosis, I reckon.

I have always wondered, how do you really measure winning and losing when it comes to things that are not tangible. How do you measure all of it when it comes to people? The million dollar solution to that dilemma would pretty much sum to nothing.

Zilch. Nada.

Now, here is the thing. Over a period of time, I have developed a habit of holding on to something that has been bruising me. It hasn't just stolen my sleep, it has stolen my peace of mind too.

I mean, come to think of it, I have lost the count of the number of days where insomnia and distress engulfed me.

And for God knows what reason, I held on to it. Maybe I was trying to seek comfort in it. Maybe I was hoping it would turn out to be better in time.

Or maybe I was just scared of making that huge a change in my life. I was controlling my emotions, and probably was choosing the wrong notions in my head over my comfort.

Big. Fat. Mistake.

I've realized, happiness is the eternal solution to that damned dilemma. That is exactly what differentiates winning from losing.

For once, I have learned that controlling things doesn't always have to be my forte. And I let go.

Isn't it quite strange? When you really like something, you succumb to it in ways you wouldn't imagine, and no matter what people say, you put yourself out there. You take that leap of faith, and fall prey to idiotic things and quote lines like "The heart wants what it wants."  Yuck. I know. But maybe, that’s how you learn. You got to make your own mistakes to learn out of them. 

The best part is when you lose some, you win some.

Only to make way for better things in your life.