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Why Did I Ever Start a Blog?

Ahoy There!

*wiping the dust of my old forgotten blog*

Hello to whoever decided to stay back and read my rambles and really THANK YOU.

I was watching Kaun Banega Crorepati the other day when Amitabh Bachchan happened to disclose how he hasn’t missed one of updating his blog in the last 4/5 years and I felt enormously guilty.

I remembered I had a blog,I remembered being excited when I had decided to start one two years back.I wanted to inspire and be constantly inspired.All through School and most part of College it was my writing that kept my mental fluids flowing. I drew inspiration from random objects and unknown people. But over time and with my mother’s demise there was a part of me that died,slowly corrupting and gradually decaying most parts of me.After two years, people come and tell me upfront that I have become very depressing and I exude negative vibes. See! See! I’m drowning you all in it with me. Well,the point of discussing something so personal on a public platform like this is that albeit I may be reeling under the trauma of it all still,yet each day I try harder to recover,to become better,to have my mental juices flowing again.So I promised myself to write more often,to be inspired more often and hopefully inspire too.

I have this amazing tale to tell,which I am saving for tomorrow.Let me know if you decide to hang in there with me.

Mucho love,

N

 

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In Today’s World of Brands…

I remember when I was a kid, a relative or a family friend coming from a foreign country was eagerly anticipated. This anxiety to meet the relative/family friend however for us kids (at the least ) was not for our love of them, but the huge Shopping bags they were expected to be ‘loaded’ with. Even a Walmart Barbie kit, would receive the naive first reaction, “Wooooooooow!(yes!with THAT many ‘o’s)this is THE best present ever.” Thus, the ‘Phoran-return’ uncle/aunty/didi/bhaiya became the Gods who would come bearing marvelous presents. And the frenzy never ceased.

Gradually when the 90s heralded Globalization, the local markets with the shops and ‘dukaans’ were now being replaced by ‘stores’ and ’boutiques’.

I STILL remember my first U.C.B. jersey back when I was 11 which my Mom bought for me from the ONLY U.C.B. store in the South Extension market of New Delhi.I was thrilled with joy.My first ‘international’-branded-jersey-bought-from-India.

And then came the era of the magnificent Monuments called the Malls. And I thought the whole ‘Amrrika'(Read:America) walked on its feet and came settled here. And, we became spoilt for choices. Then onwards, the Uncle/Aunty/Didi/Bhaiya lost their hype,and the elevated standard of Gods was reduced to that of N.R.I.s.Yes!the realization sunk in that they are nothing but ‘normal’ human beings,JUST like us.

And now when the every second that passes becomes history, we haven fallen prey to these Brands. Not you?Alright,’I’ blatantly confess I have.Its an addiction, frankly put. And in order to ‘acquire’ all the ‘branded’ stuff, people are maddeningly driving to earn more,to achieve a ‘Status’, to own the ‘It’ car, to live an ‘opulent’ life, to own brands ‘ONLY’.And in this maddening drive to earn and strive and hoard, we forget that the most ‘needed’ Brand is LOVE. No ‘status’ would provide any happiness without sharing it with someone, no ‘It’ car would be fun to drive alone, no brand would please if worn to be out alone.

So, when you sleep today, just notice, what do you yearn more, the ‘It’ bag you’re itching to purchase or a wish ‘good night’ from some one you love?

And no, my love for ‘Brands’ shall never cease to end,I’m just clarifying that my Favorite Label is L.O.V.E.

 

The Epic Tragedy

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?

P.O.A.

Good morning to all my lovely readers,

The first week of April has just begun,and well frankly,I have been procrastinating to a point that even ‘I’ am annoyed by my abject compliance to procrastination.

So,before I began writing this post,I chalked out a Plan of Action for this week.I mean,I can’t expect miraculous changes,but yes,week by week progress implies that my resolutions for this year are at play.

So,cross your fingers,I have an agenda to achieve.

I hope you have not given up on your Resolutions or yourself anymore.If you have,well,better late than never.=).

Till tomorrow,have a fruitful day ahead.

 

Happy New Month!

Why the glee?

Well.I am a HUGE fan of Novelty.And if we can herald a New Year aspiring and hoping for a better year filled with promises then why not a New Month?

Each month,each week,each day is a blessing.And we must cherish it and utilize it to its utmost potential.

And well,it also provides a reason to party.=D.

I usually make a List of To-dos to accomplish in the coming month,March did not do me much good,so I am pining on April to do so.(Please pray for me?Will you?I hope you will?)

And with Gossip Girl and 90210 commencing again,I hope more reasons to love April,than not.

Ergo,till tomorrow,this is Me wishing you,Happy New Month,wishing you bountiful joy and 30 days worth of  opportunities to yield.

 

Befriend Criticism

Even before you stereotype my new friend as a pejorative one,I must ask,do you usually accept  the supposed “derisive comments” commensurate with the supposed “compliments” you receive?Honestly speaking,most of the times I don’t.

Criticism for me can put simply so:the first shot of tequila,where the throat burns benumbing the brain.In case of Criticism however,the burning does not limit itself to the throat,it stretches will to the bottom-most pit of the stomach,the lurching is merely a knee jerk reaction signifying my abashment.Oh!And did I mention the boiling pot called the Brain?It most definitely is reacting to the criticism in its shell without mouthing the curses.

Like my daily dose of epiphanies,I gradually learnt that we have much to learn Criticism than Compliment.Criticism provides oneself with the facets of scope to improve oneself.Criticism is like the sharpener,which utilized correctly can trash out the junk leaving the pencil with a pointed tip to reap the maximum from the mere pencil.(Please do excuse my lousy examples!).

So,my Mantra for today is simple so:scrutinize the critical remarks and opinions and work on them,endure the pain to procure a Better Human Being.In my own way,I call it Befriending Criticism.

l’amour/liebe/amore/pyaar/love

Love!

Yes!I intended to pen down this post on Valentines,but my inertness is well,overpowering.(trying to lessen it though!).Anyhow,back to the point.

Love!

May it be the heart-shaped candy boxes to red roses,perfect Valentines Day present,or a simple dinner with your spouse,this time around everyone pines on making their loved ones feel special.For me,it is a celebration of love itself.From family to friends to the beau,for me it is about appreciating the loved ones,who love me regardless of my flaws.Those who stuck by through thick and thin.And Valentines is yet another reason to express my bountiful love for them.=).

The title is a catalog of the languages I can translate the English love to.Why?Ah!The lesson beckons.

Amidst the chaos engulfing the political fronts,let us take time to realize that love expressed in all languages has a similar intention.It is a beguile feeling,that engulfs all pain and hurt.It simply expresses the joy one feels in the presence of the other(may it be your spouse/family/friends/pet et cetra).Moreover love exudes a language of its own,it yields patience,forgiveness,trust,faith,courage and hope.Love transcends over the man-made boundaries and provides for the believers a reason for a Better Place,a Happier Residence without the restrictions of boundaries,castes,creed,color,gender.Utopia you call it?

Well,I derive my Hope from Love.And to all,I wish,A Very Loved Life.=)

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