Well if you were hoping for a tawdry,wry post how I am wallowing in my own pool of sorrows,well you are partially INCORRECT.
Partially incorrect you ask?
Well in that case,let me break the cookie about the partially CORRECT aspect of it.
If you are an ardent follower of my blog,I bet you know of the recent catastrophe that Our Dear God inflicted upon me.Apart from that,I recently met with a gruesome accident which along with the said ‘catastrophe’ has left an indelible mark that refuses to torment me.Well,if this was not enough,I am heart broken.Yes!in the literal sense.Till I am able to figure out and sort ‘this’ particular aspect out,you are free to conjecture,whatever you wish to conjecture out of it.When I shall have dealt with it,I shall generously share the intricate details of my oh-so-broken-ripped-in-pieces heart.
Anyhoo,The past month and a half has been quite a trying one.To top it all,adjusting to a ‘NEW’ not-so-friendly,excessively hostile College(yes!my DREAM-COLLEGE Dream just shattered into pieces.=/ ).Getting back to the point,the past month and a half has been quite a trying one.And to be blatantly honest,even though I can masquerade the tears,the pain,the grief and the monumental despair behind the facade of a plastic smile,I wake up each morning,hoping and praying to this Dear God of ‘yours’ to give me strength,but each morning mechanically my body refuses to acknowledge the wake of dawn.Like a machine however,the ‘physical me’ wakes up to continue this drab routine called ‘life’.And each night,hoping and praying,I sleep off praying to this Dear God of ‘yours’ to give me strength to survive another day.Continue the said pattern mechanically,with no emotions attached whatsoever.Like a mobile computer,robots they call it,right?Yes,exactly,like a robot,no actually,a mere puppet,with the strings being held by this Dear God of ‘yours’.Just a machine,procuring its said functions.
Amidst the plethora of my grievous despondency,did you forget the partially INCORRECT bit of it?
Oh you did,didn’t you?If you did not,well,it is much appreciated,you are one helluva sincere reader.=).Anyhoo,getting back to the point(this stoopid stream of consciousness technique that messes with my attempt-to-sound-mature-and-grown-up-like entry).
The partially incorrect bit:
1.I finished reading ‘The God of Small Things’.How does a mere book suffice to endure the tragedy?Well,you ought to read it to get it.This is by far the best book I have read.I connect with it on levels not many can understand.Not many SHOULD understand.It talks of death from an absolutely different perspective.And not just that,the layers of meaning each sentence has,the dark wit and the single stranded joke on ‘US’ a.k.a.humankind,to be precise:Indian-kind,no author has been able to mock us and mirror the hidden skeletons in our closet the way Arundhati Roy has been able to do.I am in love with that woman’s brain.LITERALLY.And this book,I would say She has gotten me writing again,both blogging and poetry(shall share the poem soon enough).
2.Even though,the handful of it barely drags through the day,but the handful of it stretches its limits each day.It varies to be honest.From day to day,from event to event,it extinguishes soon,yes it does,but it is there,and it grows,not by enormous degrees,bit by bit.And I suppose,it is what has save’d’ me,incorrect,save’s’ me from the wretched clutches of insanity:S.T.R.E.N.G.T.H.
Yes,the abject pitiful state of affairs never cease to befall,or that is how it seems,the gravity has been increasing from one catastrophe to another,the Epic Tragedy of all is to cease to live.
Merely surviving is like slow poison,it penetrates deep within your system at an ‘alarmingly’ slow pace.It tatters your insides bit by bit,and gradually you are left with mere flesh,and a plastic smile,the Soul and the Heart,the emotions completely extinguish.They cease to exist.All that is left is a mere ‘alive’ dead body.And to be blatantly honest,this is how I have become.Or not?Who am ‘I’ to judge?(‘The God of Small Things’ has taken a serious toll on me!Anyhoo,the stream-of-consciousness-technique messing again!)
There is a hurricane blazing inside me,masqueraded by the plastic smile and lame humor(yes!the intellect has been adversely effected by the ‘series of unfortunate events’).
The partially incorrect is,however,is my ability to try each day.Yes,these are the best of times,as in,the best to test my ability to bear the storm,the best to strengthen me,the best to fall-in-love-be-heartbroken-and-realise-that-I-failed-my-own-theory-and-experienced-rather-am-privileged-to-experience-‘Unconditional Love’,to let go off excess baggage.Yes,these are the best of times,for,I am too young,and this journey to long,and I learnt early.Yet,these are the worst of times,for I am NOT a bad human,for I do NOT deserve such tragedies,for I endure pain and the world moves on without so much as caring,that I am breaking each day,falling and rusting and extinguishing.
The partially incorrect is,that even though I have no strength to survive,I still do.This is probably what Mumma wants.
The epic tragedy of life is not NOT-TO-LIVE.And no,I am not living,I am a mere survivor of the series of storms,I am still ‘alive’,dying,not dead,for a reason.And maybe,I shall start living again,soon or maybe late.This storm inside may cease,this hollow inside however may never fill,probably I have furthermore ‘downs’ to experience and maybe I may break a HELL lot more,but I refuse to succumb to Life and its insane tragedies,and NOT choose (what I call it now:)the convenient opportunity called Death.
Yes!I am a mere machine today,and yes,it may take a HELL LOT OF time to be back to normal(whatever normal is?According to the ‘reasonable standard of society’),but like they say, “this too shall pass”.And this Epic Tragedy shall leave an Epic Lesson to learn.
P.S.:I am thinking,I shall start penning a book soon.Say what?