One night with sorrow.

Sorrow has a way of creeping in and breaking you down when you least expect it. It hits you like the thrashing of a whale’s tail; you wouldn’t know how it feels till you’ve experienced it and I hope you stay in the dark forever. But…if you have then you’ll know what I mean.

It hovers in the background for the longest time while you prance about unaware, and then, it devours your mirth in one strong right hooked blow to leave you breathless and wondering why what happened just happened. Then, there’s no way of escaping it. There’s no way of running away from it; it doesn’t matter if you’re a triathlon runner or a sprinter- you will not be able to escape a winner from this race unless you embrace the sorrow.

It breaks you down and swallows you from the inside. Bit by bit you become aware of how you are shaped and each crevice of your body makes you aware of its existence. Everything aches, most of all the full sized aortic pump in your chest that beats and fights to keep you alive. It pains so much that the only thing that can make you not feel its presence is if you curl up into a ball and lay like a foetus for hours.

The tears that liberated you when you were melancholic and young can no longer redeem you. They cease to be helpful so, after a while, you stop crying and stare at the ceiling of your room with the vacant stare in your eyes that your reflection is so familiar with. You stare till your eyes burn, and then finally, you close them only to see a moving picturescope of everything that makes you feel that way. It’s the blockbuster called Your Life and Imagination. All the things that have happened and everything you wished you would’ve done to stop it from happening play in a loop while you debate whether it was better when your eyes were stinging.

Sadness is like the blanket that isn’t big enough to cover your feet and face at the same time. It’s not comfortable and it isn’t comforting. It leaves a part of you exposed and vulnerable. It leaves you cold. It leaves you scared. It leaves you wanting warmth and just a little bit more of it so that it engulfs you completely or a little bit lesser so that you can put it underneath you while staring at the stars instead of the stupid ceiling.

It is a busy world full of people who either cannot or don’t want to read your mind. You know it isn’t their fault so you don’t bother anyone. You don’t knock on their doors to cry. You don’t give them a phone call lest they’re doing something that’s more important than you and let’s face it, is this really that important? So you wallow alone and battle it out as much as you can. You surrender to it. You raise the white flag and sleep. Sleep is the solace and the only escape from it, except when you start having nightmares. That is when shit gets real. Mother? Would you run to the one person who isn’t too busy for you, ever and show her your dark side. Boyfriend? Won’t he be scared by what the shark called sorrow has done to you- gut wrenching, soul crushing horror that you’ve turned into for that one night? BFF? Doesn’t she already deal with enough of you already? Piling on your issues isn’t the solution, you’ll feel.

No body is there. Sorrow has no friend. Sadness likes loneliness and they go on dates and their make out session comprises of picking at your soul. You’re the menu, obviously.

So for one night you allow yourself to be put in a platter, garnished and served to be chewed on and spat out. For one night, you break down completely. You allow yourself to think of the things that you repress; like how the relationship isn’t what you hoped it would be, like how you want to say you love someone without feeling scared of them fleeing, like how wish he’d just be there more often, like how you wished you family was more family and less arguments, like how you don’t like the way work is, like how you wished you could stay at home and just lay on the familiarity called your bed and look out of the window for hours without being questioned. You wonder about all the possibilities that you’ve missed and why. You looked at everything in your life through a dark, blue tinted glass. You wish the people who are busy would call you without you having to tell them. You wish they’d think of you and let you know they are thinking of you. You allow yourself the luxury of skipping work the next day.

And slowly, the night fades into daybreak and you do end up skipping work. Clean the house, dust the room, sweep the floors, arrange your books on the shelf and stack your life back part by part. You take your wounds and lick them to soothe yourself and sing a song that reminds you of the days that weren’t as bad. You pat yourself on the back for not drinking the previous night and thank yourself for the good decision of sparing yourself a hangover.

The next evening rolls in and it’s already slightly different than the previous one. Your boyfriend calls you. Your best friend texts you. Even if it is because you’ve deleted your existence from social media and that’s how they noticed, but at least they cared.

You take small steps back to normalcy and come out of it a fighter. And, although you can still feel sorrow lurking around, the blanket feels bigger already because you’ve never really liked sleeping stretched out.

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Is the world big enough?

How big is the world? How big does it have to be to matter? To me, the world with all its gazillion people, is already too big to be ignored and Fortunately or unfortunately, the world does matter to me. It is officially, too big to be ignored. I cannot possibly understand how anyone could say ‘I do not give a shit’, because whoever says so LIES. Everybody lies. The world is too big and you are too small. The world doesn’t give a shit about you not giving a shit, if that makes sense.

It definitely means something to me if someone is hesitant, not unwilling but hesitant, to let me into their world. I am nineteen and there are high chances of me having met you after the better part of you has been nurtured, wired and programmed to behave in a certain manner. And that is perfectly fine. Even I have my tantrums and setbacks, I have my thoughts in a twisted concocted manner which are sometimes far beyond what people expect off me. But we are two different people and differences are welcome as long as we decide to work upon them and turn them into something that would unite us. Okay, no that isn’t possible I know. But we could at least try, right?

the world is big enough to matter. And I am old enough to matter as well. So if you want me in your life you might as well tighten your belts, pull up your socks and do all the other wardrobe stuff and bloody well make me feel a part of it. Words, they are stronger than texts and actions, they are stronger than words. And hugs? They are the strongest! Take the first step and for once, don’t make me give you the surprise. For once, make me feel like the lady. Make me feel less like the man in charge and more like the damsel to be rescued (no, i am not in distress). If you’re my friend then send me an essay about us. If you like me then tell me. If you don’t, then might as well say that and end the facade. ANd friend, if an essay is too much, then just make a plan to meet up with me.

You are a but a tiny speck in the world, but hell, without you the world, my world is incomplete. So you better feel like yours is incomplete sans me.

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– Love & extremely tangled!

Bolted doors of the sleepless nights.

I just finished watching Iti Mrinalini. And there isn’t one happy even in that movie. Don’t misunderstand me, it is a beautiful ‘chhobi but I cannot understand how there can be so much sadness, sorrow, melancholy in one person’s life.

I mean, how much can one person take? Is there any sorrow that we cannot overcome? Is there any loss we cannot forget? Is there any void that cannot be replaced? Does ‘loss’ mean anything, really?
Nothing that we lose is irreplaceable. You’re here, right now. Tomorrow is a new day; you may not exist. How many people will miss you? Yes, there will be tears, yes there will be a few days where people are stunned, shocked, PTSD-ing. But what after that?

Life.Goes.On.

To paraphrase from the Film ( and I am taking huge creative liberties here , while paraphrasing)
We merely believe that we control our fate. That we are superhumans who can write destiny, who control the future, who manipulate the truth. We don’t. All that we do is play as a pawn in the larger scheme of things. Everything is planned. Everything is pre decided. We’re an illusion of our own creation.We are not who we want to be; we are who we had to be.

I have not really been through any such terrible event in life which would force me to re-think my life. I hope that’s a good thing. I have had a the usual heart break warfare and the family melodrama, but isn’t all that what constitutes life and, well, growing up? I like those parts as much as I like the parts with ice cream and candies in them. If there is no bad, then how would I know what’s good eh! I missed studying in a college in Calcutta by one rank. ONE. It’s a hard loss, but there is nothing so miserable about it. And that’s the closest example I can get out of mu life, right now..till now.

So what IS miserable? In relative terms, nothing is. Every sorrow, every tear, every frown is only justified in extremely personal and completely individualistic terms. My sorrow is mine, not yours so don’t pretend to empathise. You cannot. The world is full of problems- no drinking water, global warming, Mamta Banerjee [ 😛 ] so I don’t hold my problems in prime importance. Someone told me that the sorrow in the world never reduces the pain, instead it increases the magnitude. I disagree. Pain is pain to only the one/ ones who’re feeling it. And by ‘feeling’ I mean truly going through it all. Trust me, none of us want to go through the no-drinking-water sorta pain. We;re all oh! so delicate. We’re not meant to feel that kinda loss or lack. We’re delicate. Our sorrow isn’t what someone else will be able to fathom just like we wont understand anyone else’s. So do me a favour- the next time someone says ‘I am sad’, just sit next to that person and wait for him/ her to calm down. You do NOT know what is going on so stfu!

We all ‘move on’. We all ‘get over it’. Everyone is born with that inbuilt mechanism to cope with loss. Every orphan grows. Every mother can survive. Every family re-builds their roots…it’s just with reluctance, that everyone carries on. And that reluctance to carry on, to live, to forgive or forget is what ultimately makes us human.

To live, is human.
To love, is human.
Everyone lives, perfectly.
Everyone can love, in their own flawed way.

Life is an absolute. It is singular.

You will be wronged, this world is a bitch.. but never forget the love that you get.

-stay tangled.
xoxo

 

The Continuation of Blog Blabber

Y’know how sometimes you just know? That’s exactly what happened to me, now. Epiphany struck. (oh, check out a blog called The Epiphany of Spontaneity)
I was digressing. Coming back; there are times or moments in your life where intuition strikes SO hard that you know something will happen, that you start apprehending the course of action of people, events, animals…dust, anything!
In my case, though, it is exactly the oppostie. I could predict what will not happen. Somehow, I knew that I will not travel the world with my bff.
This is wrong, to discuss all of this online, but who reads this anyway, eh? 😛

So she’s a sweetheart, my bff. She is studying in one of the elite Delhi (and Indian) colleges. She’s smart, talented, pretty, funny, bla bla you get the drift. But then she has her own life and I have developed my own. Yeah, college does that. Don’t get me wron, I still love her as much but we, as people, are changing (read: evolving). Both of us are become more of what we were. I, more intelligent and she, more blonde. Haha. Okay, jokes apart, we’re both realising that we need to accept the changes. And one of which is, that I don’t see myself travelling the world with her. Well, yeah that’s all I could foresee but how many of you can even do that?

Also, I lost my hard disk. I hate the digital world. Digital photographs, digital books, hell one day there will be downloadable food. I did not lose much, thanks to my backing up the back up too but it is the reponsibility that counts. ‘I’ lost it. To be fair, I squarely remember where I had kept it and when I went there to search for it, it had vanished. I think one of my two roomies must’ve taken it home, either by mistake or maybe not.. I know I’m abitch to doubt them but one tends to do that when no other option is left viable.
a) who would steal a hard disk, and by who I mean the maids, house help, etc
b) only they knew about the hard disk
c) even my pharma copy ‘vanished’ mysteriously like that.
I’m upset. 😦

Until the next time,
-stay secure.