I Plug In My Earphones With No Music Switched On

I seek organization in my chaos

I constantly live in chaos but seek organization. I envy those who do great but am not jealous. I love it when someone compliments me, but don't know how to react. I love the fact that I am liked and disliked by a lot of people at the same time.

And all these thoughts bring about a lot of question in my mind. I have been aloof in a long while about everything. I have been pushing away deadlines, stay awake and do nothing. I have wasted my time and energy doing nothing as if I have got nothing.

There is indeed a lot of things I want to do. And that question I was talking about which haunts me is "where is all this leading to?"

I am completely insane about the fact that I have a lot of errands to run and I am still aloof.

It is actually astonishing and weird that I notice all the chaos in life and still do nothing about it. But I know that I am seeking for organization. But something, some force, maybe the biggest enemy of mine is pulling me down. "Laziness"

Its completely strange and crazy to say this, but I think I am responsible for my failure, it is my stupidity of all that makes me react and overreact to unnecessary, well let's say not so important things in life. I am angry at someone for being good and dissapointed in me for staying aloof.

I am not pinpointing anything or infact pinpointing myself. I think its the 3:30 am thoughts. Maybe sleeplessness. Maybe the disturbance in my head. But again there is peace and a sence of calmness in my head. I guess I have a clear head now and the morning would be without the laziness and the aloofness. I guess I'll be fine the first thing in the morning.

I guess its all in your head. And yet again I seek organization in my chaos.

With mountains climbed

Stars gazed at.

It's been a beautiful week of all my life.

With friends made, and friendships bonded

I don't know how life could change.

People talked, laughed, had a merry go ride.

This has been where relationships redefined

New ones made

Judgements broken and new ones made.

Love to all the people and all the memories.

To the good and bad triping

As mothers, she held her close,

Trying to feed by milking her blood

She was more than happy, a little more confused

Euphoria maybe or post pregnancy hormones

She was scared to let go, the baby was so tiny and fragile…

 .

He came in, a little late, hurried to see if his beloved was okay

Yes he was happy, but more worried I guess

He held her close, and apologized

Asked her whether she was happy or not

 .

They both looked at the baby, happy and content

This seemed to be a moment that could be captured

 .

It’s been years since then, I look up at the picture

My mom telling me what that day meant

I have heard this story a hundred times, but each time she says it a different way

 .

Sometimes I see her telling me that story with so much happiness that I wish he was around

And yet other times there is so much hatred I am glad they aren’t together…

 .

And yet, when he tells me the story I see pain as to not having spent enough time with me

 .

I don’t know whether to hate them both or love them

Either way I seem caught in an endless cycle

I'm glad I got to read the script first before the world could..

https://youtu.be/dQsjAbZDx-4

I love this song. So one day I was thinking of the lyrics and saw potential for a short story. Here it goes:

On he went. The snow was hard to distinguish from his hair. The steps were exhausting, each one. But still, it was a special day. He was almost there. Crosses and more crosses. It was hard to find a specific one, since they all looked the same. But it wasn’t his first time. He knew the way.

There it was. The flowers of last year had disappeared. The dog tag was still there. Fernando. What a war freak. He asked for all of it. To be buried with soldiers. To have nothing but a wooden cross. For the tag to hang on it. But not for the visits. That was on him. But how could he not? The whole war, and the fact the he came out alive, he owned it to him. To his bravery. To the hero he was.

“Hello Fernando? Enjoying not going gray, you lucky bastard? Here, I brought you your favorite.”

As he said that, he put down a red label bottle. How many memories. How many times they had fought for the last shot of one of those. Youth well spent.

But there was more. There was the war. And no one, in the whole world, was as proud to have defended freedom as Fernando. He had convinced everyone he could to join. He had fought until his last breath. Still, at the end, he survived. His smile was probably the largest on the night they celebrated the victory. They had to go on with their ordinary lives, but Fernando was forever a soldier. He died speaking about the honor of being a soldier.

Yet, not one person would remember him as a Nazi killer, but as the most inspiring, amusing and friendly figure to ever live. Except for that one soldier friend, visiting his soldier grave, to pay him a friend honor.

“Do you remember that night Fernando? The fireworks, the drinks, the women? How did we enjoy being young, being heroes, even though we would never touch a rifle again. Guess that’s what it’s all about, Fernando. Having the one story to be told on the grave.”

He laughed, far too much for the state of his lungs, until he coughed. Blood.

“Oh, my Fernando. Looks like I’ll be joining you quite soon”

What makes you think

You are different from the millions of others living in this planet.?

What makes you feel

That just by not doing what others are doing

You'll be different.?

Whatever it is, you're wrong

You are no different.

The same flesh

The same organs

The same creature

Humans.

Maybe your face is different

Your finger prints are different

The color of your eyes

The length of your hair

Is different.

But that's it

You are the same.

The same flesh

The same bone

The same creature

Humans.

Just because you do or don't do something

Doesn't make you different.

The fact that you feel different

During different situations

Doesn't make you different.

It's the same

The same flesh

The same skin

The same creature

Humans.

I'm angry

I'm depressed

I'm furious

I'm sad

I'm all of this

But, they are just common human emotions.

The same flesh

The same emotions

The same creature

Humans.

And that's the melancholy of being human

It's all the same.

The cozy space

My granny used to tell me this story all the time. When I was a kid and used to get upset, I would go hide in the cupboard where she kept all the blankets and cry. That seemed the coziest space of all. I was known to be the cry baby, otherwise nicknamed the sensitive one.

Growing up, every time I had a fight with my older brother I cried at night sleeping between my parents, without them having even the slightest idea of what I was doing. My pillows were heavy each morning and not a single soul knew.

Teenage years, filled with loneliness made me associate emotions with things. While that small piece of the broken cup, and the earring my best friend gave and I lost one. The school uniform, the English textbooks which had stories that made me love reading, everything seemed to be a part of something big.

Having had to live with other people in college, the shower became that cozy space, where I cried while the water ran through my face, while I looked radiant; no one knew what was happening.

Moving cities I continued carrying the same pillow everywhere, it seemed to have known all sides of me and all stories of mine. While the pillow turned heavy, it also seemed to be the only thing to hold on to

These days, sunsets are the cozy space, evenings filled with some music and leading to nights I can look forward to. The time with myself along with some tea I make, mostly disastrous. I seemed to have found my cozy space. The corners at buildings and the empty roads seem to have grown to be cozy spaces.

Image by: Razia @a-small-startup

I do... do I... ??

Yesterday I went shopping with my granny and aunt. For a change, I was wearing a sari. a black sari with bronze border. I was looking pretty good.

The idea of going with them was not a good one. I was damn bored. I was gazing around the shop looking at things that I would never buy. What else to do...

I was standing there looing at some dress, when an old lady came next to me and asked "Your sari is amazing. Where did you buy that from dear?"

"Its from Kerala aunty"

(I am now in Chennai. TN)

"Oh! its beautiful. I was shopping for my granddaughter and she loves black. she is almost your age and looks like you too. could you please help me select one for her. My taste you see is quite old"

"sure aunty"

I was happy that she asked for my help. Now at least I will be looking around with some purpose. Now, there is certainly one thing about old people. they are damn inquisitive... In no time they pull out every detail about you. So was this lady, she was asking me all sorts of questions, I did not want to be rude so I answered with patience and moreover she was very sweet.

After a while I picked out a black sari with pink and green border. It was a beauty. she seemed satisfied too... as I was helping her with a billing she insisted on getting me something too. now that's too much. I politely declined. She finally gave up and suddenly out of nowhere a guy called her.

"Where were you? I was looking all around the place for you"

"You were bored weren't you. This young girl helped me pick a sari for your sister"

"Thank you so much. I'm Ram"

"Hey. I'm Razia"

A tall handsome young guy. A beard, tall, husky voice. Just amazing. I never used to believe in love at first sight. "Bullshit" was my synonym for it. But yesterday when I saw him I got butterflies in my stomach. I just couldn't take my eyes off him.

But that's it. I get that feeling for the first time and that too towards a person I will never meet again. 

God wasn't that cruel too. that aunty was so happy with me helping her that she too out a small piece of paper, wrote her name, address and her grandson's no. she told me to call him if I get any confusions with the address as I am new in town.

I have that paper right in front of me. I do lie him. but do I? I can call him should I? questions unanswered I sit her perplexed. I don't now. maybe as I always say, there isn't love at first sight, it always a crush and he would also pile up in my little list of crushes.  

I gaze at the evening sky

filled with all kinds of birds chirruping...

the parrots flying in flocks, the crows sharp enough to notice everything, the eagles high enough that they don’t care of what’s going down...

the sun sets in one corner, the moon now visible in between trees, in between clouds....

All the birds fly back home, the pigeons finding shelter in tall buildings, the crows in the big tree.

suddenly the night grows dark

not because of the night, or the clouds

rather something else is filling up the sky

I look up and find hundreds of bats all flying

filling the night sky with just enough space to reveal the moon

welcoming the full moon....

Reminder Alert, There is a small change, the venue is now zoom call...

Hello there… edition 2 of online open mic is coming up, give me a message to get the link. Date : 7.06.2020

Time : 07:00 pm IST (GMT + 5.30)

Venue : Google Meet

All story tellers and poets are welcome, the language is English, if not performing, you are welcome to be a spectator…

Half hidden, half in the light. My tangled legs wanna leave all this behind and run.

Run towards the light. Towards the peace towards serenity.

But my legs are struck,

they're bound to stay,

no one has locked me in,

but my legs are pulled back

and they are asked to stay.

They are told to finish what I'm doing.

Half in the darkness and half in light, my legs want to run towards the ocean.