Tag Archives: hope

Of Some Days and Others

..some days, she wants to fly. higher and away. beyond the skies. she wants to stand atop a hill, surrounded by gushing waterfalls and pink and purple sunsets and take flight and fly beyond several moons and suns. to a world of radiance. to a world of bright and happy. to a world so majestic and so beautiful. on days like those, she’s happy; a smile teases her face every now and then, curling her lips only slightly and yet, inside, she’s as happy as the world. she wants to soar. beyond and far. higher and away. and discover. some days, she feels like she’s invincible. some days, she feels like doing a little twirl and laughing out loud. some days, she’s filled with hope.

and some days, she feels sick and dead. tired. almost as if the the last drop of energy has been taken away from her and she’s cold and helpless. on days like those, she doesn’t want to fly. the sunsets and mirages don’t appeal to her. nor does the mosaic sky. she wants to curl up next to her window, covered in her blanket and drown a little deeper into the darkness of the day. by the solitary candle, she cries and lets the lone tear hide her wry smile and breaking heart. she feels like a person on the road, surrounded by buzzing landscapes of cars zooming right across her, and she stops and kneels down on the gravel and screams and yet, the world just walks by. some days, she’s broken. some days, she sits next to misted windows and talks to nobody. some days, she’s hopeless..to a point where she doesn’t want to keep going.

only, some days.

Picture Credits – Siddharth Mohanty

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Of Sad Days

I wanted to write something happy today – something about finding rainbows beyond a cloud; about mirthful summers and early springs; about happiness. I wanted to write happy things and be happy.

But there’s a storm raining down upon my heart. Inside, I’m wrecking; breaking into several pieces. But does anybody realize that? No. I hide it all behind a sheer pretence. I laugh. I giggle. I look around at people. When tears prick at my eyes, I blink away. But on particularly lonely moments, when the streetlights no longer shine brightly, I sit down on the pavement and I cry my heart out.

There’s a storm raining down upon my heart. It’s been long since I saw the sunshine last. I’m waiting for the rays to break through the darkness and enter my house. I want to believe that yes, it’ll be there…soon. I want to write happy things until then – about hope. But there’s a storm razing inside me, shattering every hope of mine. So, until the dawn arrives, I sit and write another sad story about a sad day.

Of Nights Like These

She sits alongside the pavement, hugging her knees, waiting for the night to fall asleep.

Above her, vastness stretches far and wide. The cars have stopped. The traffic lights keep blinking. The streetlights flicker to a random rhythm. And the wind blows to a silent crescendo.

She looks up at the million infinite stars above her, light years away from where she is. She looks up and sees them twinkling from up there, looking down at her and perhaps smiling. She realizes that the existence is so vast and she is so tiny.

Placing the glass bottle on the stony pavement, she stands up and manages to find her way back home.

That night, when she falls asleep, she remembers to wake up as a newer being. Her life is so tiny when compared with the eternal universe that she resides in.

Looking up at the stars, she smiles and sleeps.

They look back at her and fall asleep.

Of The First Post Challenge

So few days ago, I was nominated for the first post challenge by ANNEMARIE & LIFE. A big thank you for the nomination.

The rules:

  • link your first post
  • name the type of the post
  • explain why this was your first post (reason for writing)
  • nominate fellow bloggers to participate in the challenge

So here is my first blog post ever:

THE SCARIEST BLOG POST OF THEM ALL

I had no clue what to write in the first blog post.. Being fairly new to the blogging world and having read lots of articles on the techniques of blogging, I was rather nervous. But then, I decided to just go with it. To pour my heart out on the paper. Though I accept, back at that time, I hadn’t found my niche, I believe I have found one now.

“And suddenly you know: It’s time to start something new and trust the magic of beginnings.”- Meister Eckhart

Have you ever felt the urge to start a new venture but there’s always something that holds you back? Have you taken a step forward in excitement, only to retreat and sit back? We’ve all gone through this at some point of time in our lives. Putting it more precisely, most of us go through this experience every time we decide to start something new.

It’ll please some of you to know that I spent two hours trying to figure out the title of my first-ever blog post! And while I was atop my terrace, looking down at the terribly high drop and then looking back up, wondering what should be the title after all, I realized something. I realized that I was scared (no, not about the entire height factor) – of starting a new blog and taking the first few baby steps.

A myriad of questions ran through my mind as I quietly scrolled through the themes. Having read numerous articles about why most bloggers fail and how disastrous some blog posts are, I was afraid because there’s always a possibility for joining the same train. What if my first blog post isn’t that impressive? What if it doesn’t connect with my readers? What if I start receiving hate messages? Even worse, what ifsomeone adds my blog to the worst-ever-blogs list? And sitting on the edge of a terrace was not helping at all. Of course, I wasn’t planning on jumping down from there (and I wouldn’t ever think of it, because I want to look pretty while I’m dying and falling from that height is obviously going to leave me with nothing but grotesque bruises and broken bones. And, I’m guessing that wouldn’t be pretty!). Some part of me convincingly said that I was out of ideas probably because of gravity which was pulling every creative thought away from my brain and sending them to settle at my feet. The other part kept on laughing like a maniac. In short, half of my insides were fighting with the other half. I thought a change of place might help.

So, picking up my laptop, I trudged downstairs to my room.

That, as I had already predicted, didn’t help. Instead of focusing on the birth of my blog baby (I’m trying to be over dramatic), I started drooling over the Chace Crawford posters on my wall and playing my brother’s recently downloaded games. I had this strange thought of writing about video games in my first blog post! And hopefully, I didn’t yield to the urge. Then, I had an even stranger thought of writing about who are my best actors and why.

At this rate, I realized, I was never going to be able to start a blog.

They say that beginnings are probably the best things – beginning a new business venture, starting a new job, starting college, starting a new book – we’ve always been fascinated by the idea of beginnings. It is the end that brings us pain. Nobody wants a beautiful thing to end. That is probably why we all go, “Oh no!” when our favourite romantic movie starts rolling out the credits. The concept of an ending has always scared us. We believe that beginnings are easier. However, they are not.

I’ve no idea about the whole concept of an ending, but speaking from experience, I can say that the beginning steps are probably harder. When it took me two hours to only figure out the title for a blog post, I realized that it is not always easy to start a thing. Be it a businessman or a teacher or a kid in primary grade, they all dread the beginning steps. The businessman spends sleepless nights, thinking about his newest venture. The teacher is nervous on the first day of school and meeting her new students. The kid in primary grade fakes a stomach ache because he is afraid of facing the new kids in school. We all have several apprehensions before starting something new. And, the only nagging question in our minds is – Will this be successful? Will the idea be successful? Will I be able to do this thing right?

One of the major reasons such thoughts strike our minds is because right from the start, we’ve been told that starting anything new is arisk. And we’ve grown up with the same idea. We are afraid to go in the less-trodden way for that is a risk. Students are afraid to choose a vocational stream because that is a risk, so they tend to stick to the traditional courses. Parents are afraid to send their kids out alone because that is a risk, so they keep them inside their homes until they feel that he/she has grown up enough. New writers are afraid to send their works to a publisher because they feel that it is a risk-their works might get rejected. So they keep their works to themselves, only sharing it with their family and a few friends.

It is like you’ve been gifted a pair of wings by God and you are standing at the edge of a cliff. A part of you is excited to try the wings and the other part keeps holding you back, reminding you a numerous times that you can’t fly. It fills your head with a plethora of confusions. You’re suddenly afraid that the wings may not be real – a thought that hadn’t crossed your mind until then. You are suddenly terrified at the idea of jumping down the cliff and spreading the wings that have been gifted to you. What if you fall?

So, you turn back and walk down the safer road, back home.

The only thought that doesn’t cross your mind is: What if you fly?

The beginning to a beginning is to take a risk. Until, you’ve taken a risk, you’ll never know what is next. Let us think of risks as a series of steps. Let us, for once, forget that risk is used in a negative term. And let us embrace the new possibilities that arrive in our mind, once we’ve settled on that thought.

And that is exactly how I managed to write my first blog post-the supposedly scariest post of them all. Though the FIRST blog post sounds terrifying, I’m proud I’ve managed to put up something decent. Now that I think of it, I was also standing at the edge of the cliff, with a pair of wings. At first, I was afraid to take a step forward. So, I took two steps back. But that was only because I wanted to take flight. So, here I’m, flying towards the sun, thinking about the world that exists out there.

And I’m not afraid anymore.

I nominate the following bloggers to take part in the challenge. I’d love to read their first views on blogging.

Of Eclipsed Dreams

Why can’t I see the sun?”, the blind girl asked curiously.

“You can see fine, honey. Just try to imagine a ball of yellow light.”, the mother replied.

“But, I don’t want to imagine. I want to actually see it. Why can everyone see and not me?”

“The difference between them and you is they have to close their eyes to things they find hard to see. But, you can keep your eyes open and see whatever you want to.”

She didn’t question anymore. She knew it was pointless. Her mother would tell her nice things but nothing would outweigh the joy of actually being able to see things. She could feel her wooden support and the weight of the black glasses resting on her nose made her feel belittled. She took baby steps and walked up to the window. She knew exactly where to sit. She could feel the wind blowing her little strands of hair. Something grew strong inside of her. It was not a good feeling at all. A very heavy weight of abandonment from the feeling of being able to enjoy the beautiful Mother Nature overcame her. She wished she could ask for a pair of eyes for her birthday. There’s nothing she would want more.

She could hear the birds chirping. She could hear the noises of a progressing construction work. For a moment, she turned numb. She would never be able to see the faces of her loved ones. How would she remember them? How would she distinguish between her favourites and common? She would never be able to tell who made that chocolate cake for her and who bought her the cap. She would never have a favourite colour. She would never be able to have a crush or a favourite cartoon. She could only hear them. The voices of her beloved ones. She could only judge their tones. What if they are betraying her right infront of her? She would never be able to tell.

Then, the words of her mother echoed. “Darling, it’s a good thing after all. There are pros and cons to everything, dear. Find out something about it that would make you happy.”

She started thinking about it. Maybe, there’s something more. God would never do that to her. Then, something struck her. She won’t be able to see her loved ones. But, that also means she won’t be able to see the people she won’t like in the long run. She’ll have no faces to hate. She won’t be able to cherish the colours. But that means, she would like all of it. She smiled at her deduction. She would have nothing to witness and nothing to judge. She could be a better human being. That’s all that mattered, isn’t it? She had nothing to whine about. She was devoid of eyesight. But she was endowed with vision. She didn’t need a teacher. What she needed was her own self. She decided she wouldn’t end up being miserable. She could see the Sun the way she would want to see it. She didn’t have to see what others saw. Her lost eyesight was a blessing in disguise, after all.

Of Hopeless Tales of Hope

It had been raining for days. Days and nights.

The eternal mist had settled in front of the windows, draping a cloak of darkness for the people who wished to see the light.

To the tune of ferocious winds, the lifeless trees would sway all night.

To some unheard crescendo of a low moan, the rain would come battering down on the roofs like bullets.

The river would swell each night. More and more. Wiping away everything on its path – every bridge and every house.

Radios would chatter on evenings, coupled with feverish prayers of people.

The nights were scary. The days were as dark.

Each night, under the little light from the candle, as she’d prepare her bed, she’d hope for a miracle.

Each night, before falling asleep, she’d look out at the misted window panes and believe, deep in her heart, that the next day would be different. That it would be bright. That the rain would stop. That a miracle would happen at the dead of the night.

The next day, even though the day would be darker and the rain even worse and no miracle would have occurred, before falling asleep, she’d look out at the misted window panes and believe that the following day would be different.

No matter what, at the end of the day, she held onto the tiniest bit of hope.

No matter what, at the end of the day, she believed.

No matter what, deep in her heart, despite the thousand voices in her head that told her otherwise, she believed.

Of Yearnings and Disturbed Relationships

He was the only son in his family. A family blessed with goddesses. He was the sole caretaker of his family. The only one to take his lineage forward. Well, his family had always wanted a son and there he was, like after four daughters. He always held him responsible for the well-being of his family. Well, why wouldn’t he? It seemed as if he was born for the same.

He used to carry out errands. Not just the petty ones, but the actual adult stuff. He used to visit banks, take care of the passbooks, pay bills, take care of the electrics of the house, buy his sisters copies and pen, ride his mother to the grocery shop and the list just goes on increasing in length with the passing days.

He was only 14. He knew it was no big deal. A part of him had established peace with the fact that he is meant to bear the responsibilities of his family. Well, on an extra point of view, was it fair to him? Sometimes, his mind would wander through the dark tunnels of questions that remain unanswered. His father never gave him a pat on his back. His mother was chained to the shackles of busy chores of the house. She was basically, a typical mother. Or should I say, more of a wife? He would ask himself whether it’s right to take away his childhood just like that. Nothing was ever enough for his father. He would never give him a good word. Never let him know how very proud he was for having a son like him. Everybody seemed like a burden to him. That hurt him.

Sometimes, he would choose a lonely place. He would sit there for hours and look at the vast, blue sky. Look at the clouds merrily swatting away, the birds soaring high, the green trees waving themselves with utmost ecstasy. He would gaze at them and forget about his entangled life for a few seconds. Then, it would all overcome his blessed soul. He would feel a heavy weight on his heart. Something would prick him. He would wish his father would call him closer. He would know he had not done anything big but he yearned for something, maybe a word of appreciation or two Then, he would repeat these words to himself. Like, it was included in the long list of jobs he had to do everyday.

“You know it. That you’ve not done that big a thing. You know that you’ve just wiped the dust off the table. You know that you’re not that open. You know that you’re a good person, not selfish at all. You know you’re doing it because you want to and you like to. You don’t need people to hover around you like bees over flowers. You don’t want to become the cynosure of the podium. You don’t want a medal or a certificate. You’ve never even given it a thought. You know it’s just enough to be a good person. Nothing else matters as long as you have a heart of gold. But sometimes, you just wanna know that the world knows that you know it. You just wish everyone knew it, the kind of person you are from within. Sometimes, just sometimes, a word of appreciation is all you crave for.”

Then, he would get up and remember that he had to pick his sister up from school. He would go back to leading his monotonous life.

Of People Who ‘Have’ To Leave

“My greatest loss, huh?”, she asked the interviewer. Her eyes were gleamy. One could not tell if she was in pain or deep regret. She seemed to walk down an unperturbed memory lane. She sat there. Lips sealed, for like a minute. “Ma’am? Your greatest loss? Do you recall any?”, the interviewer distracted her. She glanced at her. She thought for a second to just shake her head and deny but she couldn’t. She had to speak. It’s been such a long time she never spoke about it to anybody.

“You know, all of us go through a phase where everything seems just so perfect and at times, everything just seems so perfectly wrong. But when we are in the phase of the perfectly right things, we begin to take things for granted. That these good things are meant to happen to us. Well, no. We are supposed to learn that things don’t always remain the same. Some people stay. Some choose to leave. Some, we say goodbye. And a very few, need to leave. That’s the hardest part. The most difficult of all is kicking out all your dreams with that one person. The one who taught you how to learn your alphabets. The one who held your fingers when you were struggling to walk. The one who smiled at your stupidness and you knew you needed to not do it anymore. The one who defended you when both your parents were on a wrath. The one who lent you money when you were bankrupt. The one whose cellphone you stole to call your boyfriend. When a person like that needs to leave and there’s nothing you can do about it, that’s the most difficult of all”, she was wandering in a some other universe when she spoke. Like, she was going through all of it all over again. Teardrops fell. She managed to wipe them off. “I’m sorry I became so emotional”.

“No, that’s okay”, the interviewer tried to console her. “Well, who is this person you were talking about?”, she couldn’t hold it within herself.

“That beautiful lady was my grandmom”, she said with a grin across her face.

“Would you like to share with us a piece of her?”

“She was the most beautiful lady ever born. She had the spirit of an eagle yet her soul carried more secrets than The Secret Chamber itself. She knew how to smile when all she wanted to do was cry incessantly. She would love you selflessly and she exactly knew how to make someone feel good. Her eyes spoke love. The aura around her, I tell you, it was pure. Maybe, you think I’m exaggerating or something. But, no. She was no goddess. She was my grandmother. And i wish I could take you to her for authenticity of the information but…I can’t. She’s dead.”

“Do you remember anything about that day?”

” That’s not a day I really want to remember, though. Well, I can still see the faded bedsheets she was covered with. I remember the fluorescent bulbs and the shoes scattered outside the room and the mosaic tiled floor. I am holding her body so tight that I wish she’s playing some kind of trick. She couldn’t be that cold and lifeless.

She pulls the jacket closer around her and a dull pain fills her nostrils as she is trying to keep from crying.

“Enough about that. Anything you cherish the most?”

She smiles softly. The transition seemed quite genuine.

“Yes, I do. The most? Well, all of it. If I could, I would cherish every single moment I spent with her. Every single imagery of hers is vividly awake in my thoughts. I remember how her wrinkled hands clasped mine and she taught me how to write. She spoke numbers and letters with her broken, raspy voice that still held so much love. And sometimes,  even today, when I am on my way back, I dream of returning home to find my grandmother sitting on the sofa, knitting me a red scarf. I remember she used to massage my hair with the same jasmine oil, her favourite. The warmth of her hands used to spread in every little corner of my scalp. The jingle of her bangles while she did that, melodious they were to me. Oh, I wish I could bring her back!”

If There Was A Way To See The Future, What Would You Want To See?

We are all vulnerable.. susceptible to it. The dread and anxiety of not knowing what is about to come the very next second. Each night, even though the thought never clearly crosses our mind, we heave a sigh of relief that the day has gone by without any hassles. Each night, after a long hectic day of unpreparedness of what is about to strike us the very next moment, we are grateful that we have managed to get through the day. The future, the very next moment, the very next day- all of them hold our wildest hopes. They hold the possibilities for a myriad miracles that can change our lives. And in the same breath, they hold our deepest fears. It worries us every night that what if something bad happens the next day? What if the things we’ve been running from suddenly spring out of nowhere? Do we fall back on the things we’ve known? Or do we face them head front and fight our way through? Or do we take a step back and drown into nothingness?

We spend our whole lives worrying about the future, planning for the future, trying to predict the future. As if figuring it out will somehow cushion the blow.

What if.. what if.. there was actually a way to see the future?

Wouldn’t you want to know about the people who’ll stay by your side when you breathe your last?

Wouldn’t you want to know about the glorious moments that await?

Wouldn’t you want to know if you have a chance with the boy sitting next to you in the cafe?

Wouldn’t you want to know if every tear and every pain that you survived was worthwhile?

Wouldn’t you want to know where life would lead you?

Wouldn’t you want to know about every significant thing that happens in the future?

Wouldn’t you want to know the perfect answer to “Where do you see yourselves in the next five years“?

Wouldn’t you just want to know?

Instead of living in the dark, wouldn’t it be pleasant just to see a glimmer of what is about to arrive?

If there was indeed a way to see the future, I would want to know if I would be standing in my kitchen, looking out through the window at the vast expanse of the ocean, while stirring a hot meal. I would want to know if I would be smiling then. I would want to know how my heart feels. I would want to know if the ocean still sings. I would want to know if I’m alone, humming in the rather empty house, all to myself. I would want to know the person who would be calling on my phone at that very moment.

If there was indeed a way to see the future, I would want to see the course of my life. I would want to know every speed breaker I’ve managed to cross. I would want to know of every dark day that has changed my life. And I would want to know of the brighter days I will have.

If there was indeed a way to see the future, I would want to see my wildest hopes carrying me through. I would want to know of the miracles the future holds. I would want to know how bright the sun shines when I’m eighty. I would want to know if I would someday drive down a long, long road.

If there was indeed a way to see the future, I would want to know of the sunsets and sunrises I wake up to. I would want to know so much more.

If there a way to see the future, what would you want to see?

Of Silent Nights

She sits alone on those lonely nights, waiting for someone who sits on the other side of the bridge. Their lives are parallel lines. But she thinks it’s no tragedy. Think about the souls who cross paths once and don’t meet for the next million miles! This way, at least she lives in eternal hope. And hope… isn’t that what drives you and me?