Tag: Emotion

The Child.

On the Bluestockings (Creative writing club, Miranda House) prompt : Resident.

I live alone. Often when I come back from office after a long, tiring day, I like to sit down in my armchair in the veranda and read a book. My favourites always seem to be the fantasy fictions and the thrillers. I sit and read with a cup of badly brewed coffee because I’m dysfunctional in that way. Aren’t all of us millennials?

This started a few weeks ago. When I would come back and sit in the veranda in the late evenings, it would be calm and quiet except the slight chirp-chirping of the birds and the voices of the insects. Calm. Serene. I would read a while but when it started getting dark I would just sit there and let the cool breeze put in varied thoughts in my mind. That’s when, one day, I suddenly heard a child scream. A shrill, loud shriek. I tried to waver that off my mind by convincing myself it was coming from another house in the neighbourhood but I knew for a fact that there aren’t any young kids in this colony, just students and us working singles. I was tired. Must have been my imagination. I went inside and after watching a little TV and eating last night’s cold order-in, I dozed off. Had an early morning meeting the next day, and a thought like that was just a passing one.

Except that it happened again. And again. Until it started happening everyday and started getting worse. It was no more just a scream, it was a child crying, a helpless child asking me to pick him up and love him and this sound came from my house.

Then, it reached a new peak and I wasn’t able to recover from what I heard. This one evening I came back home late after having some drinks with my colleagues, it was Friday and mum was visiting the next day. When I was outside of home I thought less and less of that child hidden somewhere in my house and so, I tried to avoid home but came back to the same gothic sounds every evening.

As I was unlocking the door that Friday, I heard the child speak for the first time. It cried and cried and mentioned to me of how all his dreams were shattered when he woke up and everything he had imagined his life to be was no more that. He told me I was the only one who could help him, and I wondered how.

This went on for hours and I hid myself in the bedroom too scared to imagine what I would see if I stepped out and looked for the source of this sound. My blankets made me feel safe and I hid myself inside of those, still feeling cold, still scared, still hearing sounds.

Eventually the sounds died out and I dozed off too.

In the morning when mum came home, I told her everything expecting her to laugh at me, telling me that this was just another story my writer mind thought of, but I saw a look of horror on mum’s face. She immediately called a doctor.

Doctor? I laughed. What would a doctor do? Shouldn’t we be calling a priest or something?

Mum wouldn’t hear a word and she took me to this clinic where I found out the source of this crying.

There was indeed another resident in the house. A resident thriving inside of me.

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An Open Letter to Vocabulary.

Dear Vocabulary,

The idea of writing this letter to you came to my mind while completing an assignment where I stated something starting with “…when men” while referring to a general aspect of human nature.

It struck me, quite weirdly, what some sets of feminists often talk about — how you too (I do not know intentionally or not, willingly or unwillingly) have given in to patriarchy. It’s sad.

You are a child of language, language that all of humankind (at least we have moved on from “mankind”) uses to communicate thoughts and ideas and feelings. Yet, sometimes, using you puts men on a slightly higher platform than all of the other genders, because words like “guys” while addressing a room full of more than a single gender are casually used.

Also, while I do not want to take names, but in certain languages, a group consisting of varied genders is referred to, in masculine.

It’s ironical, isn’t it, how something that’s so diverse in its very nature entirely ignores diversity?

I’m guilty too. I often go to a group of my girl friends and start my sentences with “okay guys” or “bhai sun na..”

I sometimes feel that you are, after all, the biggest weapon all of us on Earth have, for you make our voices go loud and clear and also echo in minds, and while all of us are allowed some flaws, the position you hold, it’s time we work on the flaws and move towards making you slightly more gender neutral, for you really can’t afford the flaws.
Transform now.

 

Regards

Thoughts that come and go, but shouldn’t go.

What Exactly Do You Feel?

My friends once innocently asked me, what exactly do you feel when you have this ‘anxiety’ of yours?
“Have you ever seen a truck at the other end of the road when you’re at this end, and it is no where near you but you do not cross, worried that it might kill you? And then you stand there waiting for it to leave and when it does…. it’s already too late because it brought with it another swarm of vehicles and now you have to stand here for 20 more minutes before you can finally cross the road?
That’s how I feel with my entire life. Tears start trickling down my cheek and my nose and my lips at this failure of mine. Small failure, if you may.”

“Have you ever experienced a practice test that has absolutely nothing to do with your final grade, and you see everybody chilling about it and you chill for 5 mins to watch a video your favourite spoken word poet just uploaded, 3 days before the test?
Those 5 minutes give me all of the emotions you can ever imagine, I cry, I feel guilty, I get anxious, I declare myself a failure at life.”

“Have you ever waited an eternity for a reply to a message you sent 2 seconds ago? Within this time period have you run every conversation, every fight, every little mistake as a flashback in your mind? Have you heard a whisper “this friendship is dead”?
That’s how I feel after every short talk that we have, after every missed call, every unread text, every unanswered e-mail.”

“Every assignment that’s not even due until the next week, or the week after that, every competition that I have been selected for but don’t feel good enough for, every hypothetical story and every whatsapp message that I haven’t even opened reminds me I’m a huge failure, I’m not worthy of where I am, I do not deserve the people who love me and life will never be perfect for me.”

With all of this in my head, to their amusement, I only said “I feel scared.”

Yaadein.

पहली बार एक तस्वीर दिल को छू गई,
यूं ही उन सुनहरे दिनों कि याद दिला गई ।
वही दिन जब सुबह उठना स्वाभाविक तो था, पर पसंद नही..
वही रोज का रुटीन जैसे बोर कर देता था ।
और उफ! अब कैसे मन करता है कि तैयार होकर,  बसता उठाकर, फिर चल पड़े उस ही ओर, जिस ओर जाना कुछ ही महीने पहले मुशकिल लगता था …
कभी कभी तो लगता है कि जिन्हें स्कूल मे ‘दुश्मन’ कहती थी, उनहें जाकर गले लगाकर कहूँ,  “तुम तो जैसे परिवार का हिस्सा थे”
अब भी जब स्कूल के दोस्तों से मिलती हूँ तो ऐसा सुकून मिलता है , जो युनिवरसिटी जाकर जैसे भूल ही गई थी …

सच ही है, कुछ चीजों का महत्व तब ही पता लगता है, जब वह खो जाती हैं …. हमेशा हमेशा के लिए ।