Gravity.

We all have mass. We all have a field around us, however small, however minuscule, we have a field surrounding us that has a force. That force, however weak, is a force, nonetheless. And through the course of our lives, we come across a lot of ‘forces’, people who influence, affect, effect, change, modify and design the way we think and look at life, itself. And when we meet such a person or meet a group of such people, we assume that they will be there for good. And we are right in doing so, because obviously what they teach us remains with us forever.

Some people teach you what to do, some teach the exact opposite; either by example or by experience. I’ve met both kind of people and I must confess, I miss them in my life once they’re gone. And they all have to go, because they serve a higher purpose. They are never stagnant in one persons life. Editing souls is tough and their job description entails, that they must wander. And that, they do.

You meet this person, minding their business in the corner of a book store, dusting off old travellers’ books, OR maybe (since this is the modern age), surfing through a blog and reading poetry. Then sudenly, you hear a ‘hello‘ or see a comment pop up ‘i just read your blog and it seems nice‘, and thus begins a conversation that lasts for a few seconds to a few lifetimes…
And then their circles, their view, their choices draw you into a new world. Suddenly, you read new things, you improve your diction, you begin working out, you eat better and shop smarter. Your brain feels alive and your body feels fresh and you breathe in oxygen in quantities you’ve never been able to, before. Don’t misunderstand, this isn’t love, oh no! This is simpler. This is adulation. This is a friendship, but a little more than your average run-of-the-mill friendship. You don’t need each other, you don’t meet everyday or talk all the time; no. You don’t bring in the intricacies of your complex life and unimportant details of the same into the equation. You write good stuff, you read even better stuff and indulge in a glass of whiskey while discussing world economics and Mahatma Gandhi’s assassination. You then discuss the profound effects of love and the importance of relationships, as the alcohol hits you. And then, you simply sit quietly, listening to John Mayer and Radiohead while you draw doodles of the comic strip that you dream to start together.

Such is the gravity. Such is the pleasure. Such, is the desire.

And then, the person sees that you’ve grown, that you have imbibed…so, the soul leaves, in search of a new life, to change some more people, and then, you sit back and reminisce. How many lives have you changed.

You smile. : )

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A wallflower; under construction.

I just watched The Perks of being a wallflower. And I feel sad, irrevocably sad. I’ve been feeling sad for quite a few days now and this feeling? I feel it only when I’m supposed to be doing something, something important,  but end up not doing it, for whatever reasons. Read the following with the voice in your head, do a mimic of Emma Watson. Make it sound deep. With background music, preferably.. I’d suggest Pearly-Dewdrops’ Drop or maybe a John Mayer song? People go. Some leave. Some linger. Some promise to return, but there is always one person, who you know will return, will keep that promise and will come back. And I miss my person. I miss her terribly. There are moments where I was weak and I need to be strong. In life, sometimes, all you can do is build memories with a person. Go outside with them, sing songs, dance, write, be with them..and then, when that person is away, you hope that those memories are strong enough to make a road to wherever that person is. And then, hope that the road is simple enough to lead you both back to where you belong. But where do two people, lost, swimming in a fish bowl, belong? They belong to one another. And then, you know, just know, that the memories you have are there for good and that all you can do is wait. Wait ror new memories.  Wait for that person to find the road and signal to you, in your own little code, that the way is clear; that she needs you too, she’s had bad days as well, that she’s missed you as pathetically as you’ve missed her. And you smile and look back at the days you wept because you had things to say and couldn’t, because she was happy and you wanted to be happy too but just couldn’t, because inside you wished that she would understand that you need her to ask you specifically- what has been going on, on the other side of that road? But you remember you’re smiling because the road was strong and she signalled. The road, leading to her new world..and you tiptoe into it, holding her hand, with glittering eyes and trembling fingers, and look at her and she smiles back. And you know, just know, that a road apart will not take her away. Your best friend. But till then, all you can do is wait. And hope that the memories build a road strong enough, strong enough to lead you both back. -written on 12.07.2013 @ 11:30pm

 

 

The skin around the Vag.

I am a regular S.B.S.T.C bus traveller and I shuffle to and fro between two places, twice or more in a week. A lot of people have depended their livelihoods on these buses. 54 people, with a sleepy journey ahead of them are often more liable to purchase newspapers and magazines, amchur and whatnot. There are dozens of children who beg and mothers who cry. The stand is dirty, with a strong stench of urine and is laden with fruit leftovers, cigarette butts, strewn papers and every other kind of waste that the human kind has invented.

Anyway, what irked me enough, out of all of the above, on this fine day is this: an old man, possibly in his 50s, is a regular newspaper peddler in this area. He is the only one who sells all the English dailies, apart from the regular vernaculars. I never read newspapers on the bus (or elsewhere, unless something catches my fancy), call it the smart phone blessing in disguise. I merely know the man by face and his typical shout out to his buyers.
The man sitting behind me, in the bus today, purchased some newspaper. So, the paperwallah rested his huge stash of mewspapers on the seat beside me, which then, was vacant. As a reflex, I read the headlines in some bengali newspaper. He saw my interest and in order to sell me something the question he asked me was ridiculous.
Should I hand over a Femina to you? Or maybe interest you in a Stardust or Filmfare?”

I was infuriated. Moments ago he sold newspapaers to men and asked them if the want magazines like TechTalk or something.

Why? Does my face remind you of the cover of Femina or is it because I’m a girl? Can I also not be interested in the news? Non-gender centric news?”

I don’t blame him for this prejudice. We have created this belief system. Girls are the ones who are conscious of their looks and boys will play sports. Our ancestors have made the difference between the pinks and the blues. What is the old man to do, if majority of his female buyers ask for Beauty Magazines? I am educated, hence I know better. I am not condoning the women who read such magazines, they’re very informative. I, for one, read, Cosmo long ago but that’s a whole other blog-post. What we have to make men like him realise, is that, the world has progressed. A woman who reads a Femina can also be the CEO of a company and shake men to the core. There has to be a balance. There has to be a scale by which the balance will be measured. I felt immensely sad.

What is the skin around the vagina called, you ask me? Why, rest of the body!

The change begins with you being comfortable reading the word Vagina and penis as any other ordinary word..

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Misandry, much?

The 4th of July (sales!)

There are Sales everywhere: ‘up to 50% off’ ‘Flat 70% off’, it spent my head spinning around the ordinarily ugly but now, just cause they’re on sale, they look twice as more appealing. The earrings glitter more, the shoes seemed smarter and the clothes? Suddenly, I realised that I had NO clothes as good as the ones on display. Why, God, why? *insert sad smiley*

I saw this new movie called Ghanchakar. Don’t pay to watch it, please. The movie could have been MUCH better, given the idea of the story, but the makers screwed it up, majorly. Everybody need not have died and the mystery could be easily guessed. Either it was too easy, or my recent bent of mind towards Kafka on the Shore has led me to being super-awesome at solving mysteries. I’m on page 228, so don’t spoil the end for me! Though, I doubt I that I am Sherlock -_-

Happiness is an allegory, unhappiness a story.

So, it is the fourth of July, a date almost every living, breathing individual knows the importance of, because of the all-pervasive and sometimes unnecessary presence of a Nations presence in the world map. Early on, I used to think that the United Nations actually stood for the United States, not that I am highly incorrect but either way. Haha. I wonder if Obama will be able to read this and then call me. If not him, then maybe our CM will?
Okay okay, this post if getting its political twist, blah. Let us move on to happier topics of how a story I wrote go published. NBD. You can do it too at http://www.achievewithdell.in.

Read mine at http://www.achievewithdell.in/FullStory/1962/0/Sweta!/

Let me know how it is. Share your inspiration with me, here, if you would like?

Have a happy day, you!

I’d just like to end with one question, that was asked in a movie starring Sridevi (English Vinglish)- why is it THE United States of America and not THE India, or THE Spain… ?

The West Wind.

Everyone I know is shifting to the Western world. West of where I live, West of the hemisphere. Everything is going west and I think it all began with the Tatas shifting to Gujarat from West Bengal! Everyone is moving either to the west of the nation, or to the ‘western’ world, and by that I mean The Posh (forgive my sterotyping) Nations; USA, UK, the shizz. I want to move as well, to a land with more work and less talk. Till the time my life moves ahead of the under graduate level, I will not be able to take any personal decisions. Decisions which girls my age take with ease; I like him, let’s date him OR Wow, I want to go out and I will because I don’t have any parental supervision. Haha, kidding. But what I wanted to clarify is that, till life makes a decision for me and shows me the city that I will be in, after the graduation from the current college, my life is staccato.

I have met some wonderful, truly knowledgable and, how should I put it?, magnetic people through my blog. I have even had the pleasure of meeting a few of them and it is beautiful, what similar minds can do when they are put together. I long to find that similarity with a mind, in a place where it is not a hassle to meet him/her, where meeting someone would no longer raise eyebrows, is something I yearn for. They say, ‘two more years, Zeph and then you can meet the people you want to…’, but I have been listening to that ruse ever since I was in school. Get done with school, and then you can live the way you want, of course, there will be supervision but there will be more permission. Ge done with college and then during your Masters, I’m sure you’ll be better off. It is not the sitting and yapping with friends that I like, it is the birth of ideas with like-minded people who drive me towards conversations. And conversations only happen when one can make time.

Right now, I will curl up under a blanket and read Kafka on the Shore, by Murakami and drift into a world of make-belief and feel as if I am inside a cocoon. while I’m inside the book, I feel ensconced and happy, every time I shut the book for the day and glance to my side or look around, I see the city, the beautiful city and beg for it to let me go. I beg for it to let me go West and to not let my mind go to waste. I am academically proficient, but I want to be holistic. And for that, I need time and freedom and space. And I need it to make sure the other, more creative lobes, of the cerebral hemisphere remain active, and hope that they do not atrophy.

Here’s to one more night of reading, one less night in the city, one more dawn and another day.

Being an intellectual creates a lot of questions and no answers.
-Janis Joplin

-tangled.