Tuesday, 28 November 2017

So what's your passion?


Image result for so what's your passion
Source: Palomar

We're searching, searching. Every single nook, turning every single stone. It's not too bad, for we have company. There's like a zillion people searching with us. Every single nook, turning every single stone.

Tick tock tick tock.

A few of them have found theirs. We rejoice and pat their backs. Good for them, them lucky chaps. But it's not too bad. We’re not alone. There are plenty others still searching. High and low. Every single nook, turning every single stone.

Tick tock tick tock.                                                                                                                   

Half the crowd has left by now. But the other half is searching with us. So it’s okay, right? We're still trying. Or are we really? Perhaps we are looking in the wrong places altogether. Maybe we’re overlooking something. Or maybe we are blinded by some force and we just don't realize it.

Tick tock tick tock.

Time's running out and we're frantic. Panic wells up inside us. The others could unearth theirs, then why couldn’t we? Will we have nothing to pursue in our coming days? No. We’re probably just bad at searching. Unless...what we're looking for does not exist at all.

No. That's impossible. Mom and dad always told us that we're special. In fact, every child was. It's just that we needed to figure out how. And we trusted them. Could it have been just another lie like Santa Clause?

Tick tock tick tock.

We're almost there. The junction where the pathway branches out. And we’re empty handed. That's the thing about time isn't it, that it goes on no matter what your progress – a giant leap or none at all. Now we're at the point of transition, standing before a sea of disheartening faces of the society eager to know our 'plan'.

Tick.

"So, what's your passion?" 
This was it. If only we’d gotten a little more time.
We respond with a perplexed expression as if the word passion were foreign to us, as if we hadn't spent what seemed like a lifetime searching for the same in vain.
Every single nook, turning every single stone. How could we explain all of this to them?
"Uhm...haven't figured it out yet." We stutter, unsure of how much to spill.
We wonder, what had been theirs, if they had any at all? Ahh, to hell with this passion. We're happy without it now, aren't we? Let time take its course and we'll see what happens. Because that's the thing about time, it goes on whether you have a passion or not.

Tick tock tick tock.

Life has resumed. We're in the next stage. But we don't cease to wonder if we must get back into the quest. Maybe we're just one of the masses, a simpleton in a crowd wading through simple daily pleasures and pains. But there it is, that tinge of fear hidden amidst the many ignored inhibitions at the back of our minds - the fear of mediocrity. 
Maybe this thing called passion wasn't for us after all. Did it even matter? Sure, one couldn't deny the beauty of it. Wasn't it the raison d’etre for most, the reason that kept them going? If so, what is it that keeps us going?
Hope, maybe?

Tick tock tick tock.

Yes, time goes on. And consciously or subconsciously, we're probably still searching for it, plastered with the belief that there’s no meaning without it. Passion.

Every single nook, turning every single stone. 

..
Linking with #MondayMusings


Sunday, 1 October 2017

Kindred Spirits



Source: Shutterstock


"I felt that he was a kindred spirit as soon as ever I saw him."
"You're both queer enough, if that's what you mean by kindred spirits." said Marilla with a sniff.


The twelve year old put down Anne of Green Gables for an occasional brooding.


Kindred spirits. Perfect! It was simply perfect. Ahh bless the soul who coined that term. 'Best friend' sounded so low key, don't you think? You get a few good clicks together with someone and bam you're #BffsForLife. According to the statuses in social networking sites that is. Calling you my best friend simply wouldn't suffice. At all. I thought there wasn't any other choice. Until of course I read Anne of Green Gables and discovered this something that perfectly described what you were to me.


So the next day at school I rush over to you with my new found knowledge, grinning so wide you'd think I'd won the lottery. And you grinned back for absolutely no reason before I said it -


"Hey, you're my kindred spirit!"


And you couldn't've agreed more. Only a year ago you were that round-eyed class leader everybody was scared of and I despised. To me you were a bully who could scare anyone with that glare of yours. But boy was I wrong. Through a mandatory seat shuffle that forced us to sit together, a few months of a third party nuisance we constantly complained over, followed by plenty of spats with certain so called idiots where we took a common stance, us happened.


Cheers to the history of escapades we've been through together. The letters, the secret codes, the advices, the complaints, the confrontations, the troubles, the laughs, and everything else that I cannot name here.  The very fact that I've been grinning like a fool for the past half hour reminiscing over our school days is proof of how much drama we've been through. Yes, drama. I can't think of a better word.


Life has changed. You and I have changed. There's been literally a metamorphosis over the past eight years. Yeah, eight whole years. And you were the only constant through this time. And now here we are staring blankly at adulthood as if it were a stranger interfering in our teens. Which it actually is I presume. Sigh. It's the end of an era.


Happy birthday, my kindred spirit. We've grown up through our teens together. Let's keep our fingers crossed and hope to survive this life together as well.



***





Linking with #FridayReflections




Tuesday, 4 July 2017

"You are Beautiful"


Source: feminismindia


"You look beautiful."

My brow is raised before the mirror.
Beautiful, did you call this error?
I see an oversized belly way out of norms
I see a brown clingy top showing off my fat arms
I see a flattened tiny face
struggling to fit in facial features.
I see a lump of gathered mess
struggling to achieve finesse.
And before this muddle of disarray
Is a beaming mom come out to say -
"You look beautiful honey."
And I smile. How funny.
A shake of head and a shrug. Moms, you see.



Tuesday, 20 June 2017

The Making of an Ambition


www.shutterstock.com

The seven year old pursed her lips, eyebrows creased in deep thought. An Apsara pencil was held tight in her right hand. Craning her little neck, she tried to peek into her partner's notebook but found nothing useful. So once again she returned to her train of thought, tapping the freshly sharpened pencil on her chin. Their class teacher was moving from bench to bench, planting smiles in each of their faces.

Something stirred in her mind. "Teacher!", the little one thought suddenly, "I want to become a teacher!" Tightening her grip on the pencil, she neatly filled in the space in her notebook under the column titled 'My ambition'.


Thursday, 8 June 2017

I am India's Daughter


Parivartravels


A cozy bed, newspaper ahead, and a nice cup of tea.
A perfect morning it was to be.
Flipping through pages of the paper and this photo is chanced upon.
This merry photo of little boys playing football in the beach.
Just another photograph of kids relishing the summer heat.
Just another game for the boys in the beach.
And yet this photo held something more; something that tingled my nerves.
This harmless picture rekindling the rebel soul itching to break out.
A gush of impulse springing from the shackled freedom within.


Saturday, 3 June 2017

Tea or Coffee

Media.salon.com

“Tea or coffee?”

I turned to my sister out of habit. Any question directed at me was to be answered by her. I was the little one in the family who didn’t know the good from bad, or the better from good. But she always knew what to do.


Monday, 22 May 2017

The Vagabond


Source: Viewspaper


The engine roared to a start. The passengers were shuffling in their seats.

" I heard the roads are bumpy. " mumbled one to the other.

"Aye." came the reply, " Plenty o' curves 'n' heights. Best be prepared eh?" he said,
popping his pill. His neighbor rummaged through his bag for mufflers. The biting wind shouldn't get the better of him now should it?


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