Cheers to My Sadness – A Glimmer of Hope

Silently, I stare at the ceiling, hoping for a miracle
That would uplift me from my dreadful miseries.
A pall of gloom has fallen upon the world,
Or is it just upon me, I wonder.

As I lay on my bed, wishing the world wasn’t so cruel
I reminisce on the past, my beautiful past.
The sweet memories keep haunting me
And depriving me of my sleep.

Sleep has been my only solace, from my unrelenting agony
Heavens know how I longed, for the blissful slumber
That would erase all my pains momentarily
With its enchanted magic wand.

The sadness I feel is unprecedented, the cause rather unknown,
To be at peace with my sorrow, is what I yearn for.
With a glimmer of hope, I await the day I can say,
‘Cheers to my sadness’ !


Why, Oh Why!

‘Why? Why do you love him?’, my dad demanded. I wondered why, because I had no answer. Having been a rebel all through my life (at least in my mind, for I was too meek as a child, too scared to respond, although deep within me I had forever wanted to rebel), I have always had answers popping up in my mind, for any question that was put forth to me. Whether my answers made sense or not, well, that was completely a different matter, and I was content just by framing some answer in my mind. But now, for the first time in my life, I was clueless. I mumbled something, but my dad was not convinced.

‘You cannot go ahead with this relation unless you give me a convincing explanation’.  Wow, I had to come up with some impressive logic now, so that they are not sceptical anymore.

‘Alright, I’ll let you know. Got some work now’, saying so I was about to slip away, when my mom confronted me.

‘Where are you trying to escape to? Answer your dad and leave’. I am doomed, I felt. Bluffing her was rather a Herculean task. But I had to escape now for arguing with her was pointless. ‘Amma, I’ll be back in five minutes’, and I rushed to my room as quick as I could.

Being born and brought up in a traditional Indian family, all this was expected for I chose to marry the person I loved, without waiting for the one my parents were about to find for me. I needed to convince my parents and his parents and get the so called ‘permission’ for marriage. And all these constantly reminded me of the Chetan Bhagat novel, Two States, although it was bit of an overstatement. Well, but that’s not my point here. I never ever thought I would have to stand speechless in front of such a seemingly simple question.

As I sat in my room, I tried to come up with a dramatic answer, but slowly I realised it was not as easy as I had thought. Nevertheless, I was not ready to accept defeat straightaway. Thus, I decided to call my fiance. After all, he was the one responsible for bringing me into this fix. But alas, I didn’t realize that I was in for more trouble. I had successfully added one more person to the list of questioners. ‘I need to hear that. Tell me why do you love me’, he too demanded. I cursed my instincts for having decided to ask him for an answer.

Now the ball is in my court, I felt. I had to find an answer for this all by myself. I pondered and pondered, but to no avail. I just knew that I loved him and that we were meant to be together. It was then that it struck me. Why is it necessary that all questions need to be answered. Why not accept things for what it is, rather than asking for logical explanations. Isn’t it much more beautiful that way. Yes, all this made some sense now, I guess.

Yet again, the very thought of my parents waiting downstairs for my answer, started nagging me. What do I tell them, oh God! But wait, didn’t Paulo Coelho say something in ‘The Alchemist’. Thankfully my memory didn’t fail me at this crucial moment. Fine, so this will be my answer to everyone who asks me the tricky question.

“One is loved because one is loved. No reason is needed for loving.”

How true. 🙂


The Vanishing Act

I woke up to a voice, a very familiar one,
Startled was I to hear it again,
Something to me that was long forgotten
Though I knew I longed for it ever.

I tried to remember, as hard as I could,
To place the voice in my memories, that
Was all too muddled and way too blurred
As time had passed, waiting for none.

Was that a friend or foe, I wondered
Or someone beloved who left me, to be
With the stars and angels high up above
And now yearning to be by my side.

I wished I could see, the source of the voice
I wished I could revive my aging memories.
I strained my ears to hear it encore
Twisting and turning my head to all angles.

I felt I caught a glimpse of a movement
That was all too quick and rapid for me.
I stared at the window in futile hope
‘Coz I knew it had already vanished.


Unknown Land

The earth looked scorched from the blazing sun. Where was I, I wondered. The land appeared barren, with no sign of life. I felt the sun’s rays piercing through my skin, burning me. Is this what they call a desert, I didn’t know. I stared at the horizon, trying hard to discern the edge of the world. But all I could see was grayish hue of the vast expanse of land, with the inevitable cracks that broke the earth into pieces. It must have been ages since it rained here, I felt.  The perpetual eternity was haunting. I longed for a drop of water.

Gazing at the distance, I tried to remember. But my memories refused to rewind beyond a couple of minutes back. I struggled to stand on my feet, but to no avail. Finally I gave up all my attempts and resigned to my fate, hoping for some miracle to lift me from my destiny.



The beauty of a blank mind

There are times when my mind goes blank, absolutely blank. It’s something any writer would dread I guess. Although I am only a beginner and don’t feel confident enough to call myself a writer, I used to get panicky whenever that happens. I’m at a loss for words, as though all my ideas have dried up. I wonder what happened to me. I log into my blog to post, but blankly stare at my screen. Even the daily prompt fails to trigger me. I lose hope and desperately slam my laptop.

But now when I come to think of it, I guess I can put it in a different perspective. Let me take a blank white sheet. What can I do with this sheet of paper, I ponder. Absolutely anything, I presume. I can put down anything on that paper. I can write, say, a story , a poem, or an essay, perhaps. Or I could draw a picture, maybe even scribble illegibly. Maybe I can put my fingerprint on it, any where on the sheet. Well, in that case, shouldn’t the same logic apply to a blank mind as well? Anything that happens around me will create an impression on my mind, if its blank. My mind being empty means I have no prejudices or preconceptions about anything, which will obviously create an unbiased opinion in my mind on what I see and experience. My mind is now flexible enough to accept the different points of view.

After all, these impressions are more than enough for me to write. So essentially, what I’ve come to conclude is that a blank mind is what helps me write freely. Of course, it might take me a long time to write, just as it would take sometime for the blank sheet to be filled with impressions. But I believe, the time is well spent. For what I write after the hiatus, will be with a new perspective and with a renewed vigour.





The Best Phase of My Life

It had always been my childhood dream to enter into the teaching profession. Born into a family of teachers, this was an obvious choice for me. I had always been surprised at the amount of respect they would get for the only reason that they were teachers. Having been a student for nearly twenty one years of my life, the title of a teacher was a much coveted one. I now consider myself fortunate enough to have landed a job in one of the top colleges in the country soon after my masters.

As I am only a month away from completing my second year in my dream job, I felt I should write down about this new phase of my life. I vividly remember the day I joined the institute, much apprehensive of what lay ahead of me. My mind was still that of a student, and it took a long time for me to come out of the shell of being a student. I had goosebumps, the day I had the name plate fixed on my cabin door, with the designation of ‘Assistant Professor’ under my name. Wow, unbelievable. Now I had to stop thinking and appearing like a student. My first day in class was just too awesome for me, (I guess it must have been at least close to that for the students). It had been only a few months back that I was sitting in a class and listening to lectures, and now here I was about to deliver my first lecture. That was the beginning of a wonderful phase of my life.

Teaching has brought about a lot of changes in me, the most important of all being that I’ve learnt to be more mature. I now have a lot of kids looking up to me and can no more be the carefree girl that I used to be. But I enjoy the newly attained sense of responsibility. It has indeed changed my perspectives about the world around me. I wish I can be like my teachers, who instilled in me a love for learning, motivated me to think out of the box and above all, to stay grounded even at the peak of knowledge.

There’s a joke I have often come across on the internet. It goes like this ‘Everybody says teaching is so easy just like walking in a park….But, only teachers know that the park is the Jurassic Park with a variety of dinosaurs’. Quite true, but honestly I enjoy being in such a varied environment, and that is what makes teaching so exciting.

The Ultimate Saga

On seeing today’s prompt on Daily post, I didn’t have to think for another second. The first thought that came to my mind on hearing the word saga was nothing but my all time favourite game ‘Candy Crush Saga’. For long I had wanted to write about it, the addictive nature of the game and the way it has come to have a control over my moods. I have never been a gamer, computer or mobile games were not on my priority list, and I know there are a lot more games more popular and interesting. But none of those have caught my fancy as the ‘Candy Crush Saga’ has. Ok, I admit I used to open minesweeper or Solitaire, in my extreme moments of boredom, but that was all what games had to do with me until this one came along.

There are times when I impatiently wait for the lives to get refilled so that I can continue my conquest. Many times I open the game, even forgetting that  I am at a public place and there are people watching. To be frank, the best part of it, is that they give me only a limited number of lives. Else I would have long been addicted to this, forgetting all my duties. I am even ready to forego food if I could get infinite lives on my favourite game. Thanks to the developers, they’ve saved my life.

I have often wondered what it was about this particular game that kept me so hooked up. Could be the sheer simplicity of the theme, or it could be the excellent graphics used. Perhaps its the way they have used the sound effects. I just go ecstatic, when I hear ‘Tasty’ and ‘Delicious’. I love the childishness of the game. It is pure bliss to watch the ‘Sugar Crush’ after the end of each level, not to mention the associated sound effects. I have got really bad mood swings, but Candy Crush is the only one factor that is always sure to lift my mood.

Recently I have switched over to Candy Crush Soda Saga, and the excitement has only doubled with the bubbling soda.


Sing me a song

Sing a song birdie, and be my buddy
I’ve been lonely for quite too long
Days have passed, months have passed
My wait for a friend forever to last.

People around me, walk past hastily
Without even a glance at this lonely soul
It seems to me they are rushing
Where do they go I keep wondering.

Would you sing for me, Oh queen of the skies
Wish I could forget my woes in your melody
I have a longing for the vast open sky
Will you take me along with you to fly.

I long for the clouds, and the stars at night
Keep looking at me, as though they wish
To stretch out their arms and take me to them
For that’s where I’ll always belong.



The White Horse

Picture Prompt #55 – The Blog Propellant

running          how-much-is-that-horsey-in-the-window

‘Oh, is it morning already!’, wondered William as he heard the alarm blaring. ‘How quickly the nights go.  I close my eyes, and the next thing I know is its time to wake up and get to work’. How he hated getting up in the morning. As if he had a choice! There was a time he could just sleep to his hearts content, just eat, sleep, go to work. His doctor had given the final verdict, ‘There’s nothing more I can do, unless you decide to change your unhealthy lifestyle’. Thus started his daily routine of going for a jog in the morning.

With great difficulty, he dragged himself out of the bed, put on his running attire, and set about for the days workout. As he jogged down the path, he noticed something odd. The place seemed to be deserted. Where did all his co-runners go, he wondered. His morning routine had given him a lot of new friends. But how come everyone decide to take a break today? Was there something wrong?. He couldn’t understand.

He continued running, still trying to figure what happened to the people around him. It was then that he noticed the three storey building. Every morning, he could see a beautiful girl standing there, looking out into the distance, lost in a world of her own. Was she sad? Or was she taking in the beauty of the dawn. He never understood. But today, even she was not there. What he saw instead was unbelievable.

There was a white horse near the window, exactly where the girl used to stand. William stopped in his tracks. How on earth did the horse get on top of this building. Perhaps someone took it up there. But how and why! And what happened to the girl? A lot of questions came rushing to his mind. He stared at the horse for a long time. There was a fierce look in its eyes. But he could sense a feeling of despair and helplessness too in the poor animal. As though it wanted to escape.

As he watched, he realised that it was trying to break the glass window. It wanted to be free, he felt. He looked around, but couldn’t see anyone. He was now standing right below the window. He saw, with utter disbelief, the horse breaking the window. It was about to jump down. William tried to run, but couldn’t. He felt an invisible force pulling him to the ground. He tried to shout, but no words came out of his mouth. He stood transfixed as the horse jumped out. It landed right on his head, and both went crashing to the ground. ‘Aahhh’, he screamed, closing his eyes, and realising his voice coming back.

As he opened his eyes, he saw his wife staring at him. ‘Where’s the horse?’, he mumbled. He looked around, he was still in his bed in his house. ‘You don’t get up in the morning, and then scream on top of your voice and scare the hell out of me’, she seemed annoyed and walked back to kitchen.


From a Brick Kiln

‘I must go on’, thought Ashok as he put the freshly moulded clay bricks into the kiln. The smoke and dust was taking its toll on his health. His face and hands were smeared black from the coal. He thought of his two little daughters. They were too small to understand his struggles in life. He was determined to give them a better life than what he had.

He himself was uneducated, never even seen what a school looked like. But here he was, toiling in the brick kiln, so that people could build schools, houses, buildings, malls and skyscrapers. What were malls, he always used to think, when he heard the kiln owner speak to some well dressed people. They were the customers, that’s all he knew. He never bothered to ask them what a mall was. Neither did his coworkers know about it. But one thing he was sure of, that his girls would one day learn about all this and much more.

He didn’t mind slogging for over twelve hours at a stretch. He knew he would be paid for his work. There were days he skipped lunch in spite of all the physical exertion, just to make sure that his girls didn’t have to go to bed with an empty stomach. They had only started their primary schooling, but they always made their father proud. Yesterday was one of the happiest days of his life. Both his children had come first in their classes. He was sure they were meant to scale greater heights, reach places that he couldn’t even imagine.

Ashok’s only childhood memory was that of this kiln and the people around it. His parents were bonded labourers here, and had struggled hard even to stay alive. His mind went back to the days he had to go without food for days. That was how he started accompanying his parents to work. All his memories were filled with coal, mud and smoke.

That day, he wanted to get something special for the girls for their achievement. What could he afford, other than the cheap candy from the local street vendor. As he walked back home from the kiln, he saw the vendor in his usual spot and approached him for two candies. But as he counted his coins to pay, he realised he didn’t have the money for two.

‘I’m sorry, one will do’, he told the vendor with a heavy heart.

‘Oh, never mind, take two. I know it’s for your lovely kids. You can pay me later if you so wish’, and he handed two candies to Ashok. He didn’t know how to thank the vendor.

As he reached home, he daughters rushed to him. He handed over the candy packet to them. ‘This is for both of you.’. As they opened the packet, he could sense their joy. The sparkle in their eyes was all he longed for.