Being Human, taboo !!

I know it's not the best thing to do, to look back and wonder where have you reached in life and what hurdles have u crossed to get there. But some days I do it , despite being overwhelmed . I look back and I see myself in a place where I have no shame of my past . Past sometimes will hunt u down, some people thing it's embarrassing to be bullied and not cool , some think it's okay to ruin a person's life and be happy about it ; probably gossip about it . But from what I remember, when I enter a spiritual place or scared ground , there's nothing that intimidates me and thank god everyday for I could see ahead not backward , where i could learn not crib . I have a clear conscious

It's a process, you first get hurt then cry and eventually become depressed but then some day out of the blue, you realize that the healing has done u some good and helped u move on ; it doesn't matter how u move on , tablets, counselling , yourself ...

The keyword is 'taboo' . Not everything in the world is a taboo and not everything that we think is a taboo is actually a taboo. What we as people need to recognize that while we make our way s to a successful career, a safer planet and healthy race of humans  , we need to take into account  that these same humans will produce more humans and be taught by the life they see and learn their own ways from it , so before we decide to screw up their lives because what we do today will affect us and the people we bring on with us; let's check with our mental and emotional health , then let's see if we can produce a race of humans who still remember to be human . 

Maternity

“To love. To be loved. To never forget your own insignificance. To never get used to the unspeakable violence and the vulgar disparity of life around you. To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty to its lair. To never simplify what is complicated or complicate what is simple. To respect strength, never power. Above all, to watch. To try and understand. To never look away. And never, never to forget.” 
― Arundhati Roy, The Cost of Living

Some days I just want to lie under open skies and embrace a little baby. It just gives utter joy to watch kids grow and make them learn and make them eat. Sometimes I'm so full of maternal feelings  that it overwhelms me. Some people who guard traditions shan't forget that a mother and her little baby are inseparable even after when, that child has gone hidden into the shadow of hidden maternity.

Bewildered

Some days it just kills me on the inside to be where I am, where I could have been or perhaps where I wanted to be. I'm most uncertain about where I see my eyes into an eternal dream but I'm most certain where I do not want to be i.e. jail-hood. Sometimes it's like the longest itinerary to have been planned by fate; to freedom, to faith, to unroll tears back into the eyes of the beholder.
Tears of widowhood, utter painful long wait to nothing but the memories of people who exist and yet don't. Far away from places of the people where once shone a glee into the grey grieving cloud of nothing but the clutches of aloof fate - ironically merciless. Living in the perilous times, never before so utterly unpredictable in the period of transition with belief in progress to the pushing edge of the realm of the unknown, joylessly, disillusioned, and with no hope. In the state of widowhood, possessed of the harrowing devastation of  one who set out on life's course joyously in intimate comradeship with another, and then is bereft of that companion until forever. Satire.

“Sometimes when I look at you, I feel I'm gazing at a distant star. 
It's dazzling, but the light is from tens of thousands of years ago.
Maybe the star doesn't even exist any more. Yet sometimes that light seems more real to me than anything.” 
― Haruki Murakami, South of the Border, West of the Sun

Antardwand

Sometimes , some days and some people get stuck in your head or probably some incidences. I miss my college life just 2 days after being home, I want to be busy, I want to forget about this daze I live in, of longing and heartache . After all, the discomfort lives in my little heart, with my truckload of yearning and sometimes I loose it too - the patience, the will to fight all odds for love & lastly to keep sane with this going on . Sometimes I just want to grieve for long periods in just the proximity of nothing but my own little heart but some days don't let the tears roll back rather roll down and show up when just that person stings that little place where not so long ago lived the people or rather the sting that stirred up this exhausting journey of love , lust and long hours of wait . I feel I live in a widowhood, where I'm waiting for my dead husband to come back , where I'm waiting for my sane life to return and where I listen to my dead husband - where he promises me to love me so much that I'd forget what it feels like to be what it is as of now. My world is coming apart, where I have nothing to lose yet almost everything at stake. I'm fight my own little conscious to know whether or not if I will come out of it . Period .   

Shopping List

Busy day as u know a Monday is , but it's spring and it's spring bank holiday . I gotta rush to all the stores and finish my shopping before Alice pulls me to wonderland .My normal day would start with my first round of medication in the morning followed by tea/coffee , sometimes Red Bull if I've slept for 3 hours or less. I would then do the dishes, laundry and follow my second round of coffee/ tea and sometimes, chamomile and honey dew twinnings . Then the regular, wash bath, select clothes, style hair, wear lenses and apply makeup and put on some shoes and walk to university with a ton full of things that spill out all at the same time .The later, get busy as hell until I board the 18.27 bus and get home to only collapse on my bed or say followed by lazy cooking and banging my dishes into the sink and bathe to tuck into bed or maybe jump out too ; to study sometimes or read a novel until my eyes drop dead into sleep with all the crazy dreams .  Okay so this is a bank holiday right? So the list is as follows :

• Coconut water
• milk
• fruits and vegetables 
• salon 
• maybe some printing to do ( subject ppt for revision )     
• meat and gratin ;) 

but suddenly, there's this list fairy who changes the list as soon as I enter the supermarket ; there it is - mocking me for leaving the actual one home  . This is my secret wish list , my strange one which looks like this odd mocking bird to me this minute ...okay so read this :

• take a vacation, without family 
• wear a bikini 
• go snorkeling
• read all the chic lit fiction books 
•  learn gymnastics / kathak 
• make my spouse his morning tea/ coffee and breakfast  o:) 

so I go shopping in some daze and return with just the first 3 items on the list , so it is ...tomorrow will be a dead busy day  with an exam  :(  :O 

Axiomatic

I'm this huge dilemma, the events of that fateful day haunt my mind ; night after day . Little did I know that some storm approached the shore as I stood guarding Pandora's  box with my life .  Beans have been spilled, now it's time I had opened my mouth, time I let destiny take its course . Destiny ? did I not always want to hold on to it before it spilled the beans ?! But now I want to let it go, make fun of me, put me through the worst , let it start all over again . My fears have smelt the coffee , dropped my jaw and left me wounded . Ya , I know, no explanations but then it's human nature to explain right?
I say" I love u, you truly are the best thing that ever happened to me , I don't regret a single moment of it,u were my best friend , my lover and most of all u made feel alive again. I'll never forget u for that . You're going to be the very best part of me , I'm sorry it has to be this way , but I've to leave , and u have to see u true soul mate .I'm not the one , I'm just the serious ex. and I'm a liar . A horrible person but I'm sorry . You see, we all need some serious ex.'s so as to keepsake it for experience , I mean, it is how this goes right ? Someone has to be heartbroken , to be shaken to reality right ? "

I repeated the conversation a 1000 times in my head, cursed myself under my breath and trust me, such silence had a sound , the sound of disappearance. Memories span the miles and in seconds I'm back again , there , in the same place . I sob and look at myself , my selfish and insensitive self . Then I look again into the same person, loser it screams .

Yes, I may be the most horrible of people but I'm still here and if I did deserve this or not I don't know but if it's true ; it will certainly walk back in its own time and space.

“How to separate the humiliation from the loss, that's the catch. You can never be sure if what tortures you is the pain of being without someone you love or the embarrassment of admitting that you have been rejected.” 
― Stephen Fry, Making History
   

In the awe of betrayal

Betrayal . Doesn't it sound so awesome ?
To me , it's what makes me sick to my stomach.

In a time of it's own, love and apathy will strike will the loudest of blows and all u will do is get injured and lay there barely alive with a lot of blood ; hot blood and scars of all the scratches and marks that nothing will erase , no surgery , no crazy accident ; not even death . I sit and try to tell myself that it's fine and apologize and say it's all good and sun shiny . I just forget that nothing will come to me forever , I'm meant for hatred and betrayal . I know, nobody is content . I will never forgive anyone for all the times I've fallen on my nose . he's been there, all goody and nice but behind the mask sat the audience of more who only wanted separation for the unhappiness of their repute . Godly figures , beautiful . In the awe of my life support system, I kept on ignoring the blows to my face and mind. I sat their and always marched to my values . All I got was a lot of betrayal .
I'm so numb right now that I cant think straight or understand anything . All I know is this is going to be unforgiven and I will stomp out . Maybe I'm just so upset that I barely know what I'm doing .
This is so annoying .... 

“I never felt like that before. Maybe it could be depression, like you get. I can understand how you suffer now when you're depressed; I always thought you liked it and I thought you could have snapped yourself out any time, if not alone then my means of the mood organ. But when you get that depressed you don't care. Apathy, because you've lose a sense of worth. It doesn't matter whether you feel better because you have no worth.”
― Philip K. Dick, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? 

Pottery

When I was young, Ihad developed a liking for pottery from a summer school course . I loved making pots and painting them in my own vivid colours . I made pots . Many pots and they beautiful because I was only a child and I had imagination and time at my disposal . I mostly gifted my pots to those who liked my work and always was told that I should save it for my private collection ; however, as long as it made some one else happy , I would go on doing that. But, I never gave away the first one I made ; I could just never do that , it was very dear to me .
Once I met a guy , I liked the way he loved my art and gifted him my first handmade pot . He were delighted as thought I gifted him a pot of gold  . A few days later he returned that and sent a note saying - this is damaged with a crack , thanks though.
like pots we are, damaged, broken and fragile can never look the same again once broken .

Now I dont want to live, breathing itself is too much

I want to run. I want to run faster than I ever did ; away from myself and people in my life . I just hate the way things are, a little bit of hope and then the knowledge of illusion in another split second. Now, I want to go , away from distances; bad memories ; sufferings and loneliness. I hate who I am, I'm starkly in the emotion of a wounded princess . A woman who will always be incomplete in the sickly moment of heart break .
Das Vidanyian  

Gold Tarnishings

“Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.” 
― Anaïs Nin

This is certainly my favorite quote , not because it means the death of love (  for the spouse ) but the process it goes through for anything u have lived or have breathed for .
I sit . I sip tea and think about the last few days, months and moments of him . I thought he was going or had gone with a note left behind but then like me ; he too doesn't have the heart to say that he has to go ,for the future of his financial successes .
I will let him go. He needs to . I'm the obstruction who stands here . I will go.
I will banish him from my mind , his memories , his promises to my smiles ; everything that I breathed into for the last 4 - 5 years because there is no cure for the apathy of human beings ; not for me at-least...
I will put this exile into the place where it's neither indifference nor despair ; it's in-between everything  . I will live in the other half of death ; indifference for desire is the half of life and indifference is the half of death . I will fight , till I breath and even after that because I have to , I will do this for him .

 "To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable." 
— C.S. Lewis (The Four Loves)

I'm the the loneliest person on this planet .

Things have been breaking away from me , far ...very far . I see them , I try to hold them but I end up staring at that distant sight of that piece being gone. I might be in my most better of times, but I'm completely heart broken . I feel lucky to have a family  but I feel lost in the buzz of domestic and social affairs . This place is a place where it's just me and i'm lost in it. I sometimes wish I could stop for a minute and set things right . I wish to stop having pills, not gain weight while I eat and be loved madly like a baby .
Baby . It's only in baby days that u deserve all the love and care ; then u grow up and eventually u become the loneliest person of this era. U meet people, become acquaintances, become lovers, become spouses, become friends maybe . That same love will abandon u so gracefully that even the loudest of places will seem dead and noiseless , that mind of yours will be soundless in that noise of pop rock. I sometimes wish I died and then looked at everything that happened after I had been gone. I know I 'll hurt a lot of people but I also know that I survive each day through tremendous pressure and breakdown each night . Most often I breakdown to my closest man but now even he has lost the conscious nerve of pain . I cry . I cry even more. But he stays in the dead . No heed . Nothing . Nothing like stop crying . Nothing like I feel loved like before. He's going . Maybe he is. I'm  reckoned for the loser . Loser . It rings my head how the loser sounds like. Like the dead of the night with a streak of screams passing by.
I sit. I cry . I hit my fist . I cry more. I get drunk and say - "one day i'll jump off this place " and return with the most horrifying pictures in my mind - " if u do this again , I'll go away . "
Maybe this is why this is happening. My suicidal tendencies . But I cant work them out, I've to . I'm alone. More than ever before. It Pains me to see the happiness through the eyes of another person but I've numb spot for happiness and I've never felt it. My happiness is the annoyance of another . I'm annoying . I'm very Pissed right now that I feel like hurting crying my gut out . But I'm dumb and immature for doing that .
Nothing raises my spirits now. I live a lie , shall live one all my life.
I used to think I knew everything. I was a "smart person" who "got things done," and because of that, the higher I climbed, the more I could look down and scoff at what seemed silly or simple, even religion.But I realized something as I walked home that night: that I am neither better nor smarter, only luckier. And I should be ashamed of thinking I knew everything, because you can know the whole world and still feel lost in it. So many people are in pain-no matter how smart or accomplished-they cry, they yearn, they hurt.But instead of looking down on things, they look up, which is where I should have been looking, too. Because when the world quiets to the sound of your own breathing, we all want the same things:comfort, love, and a peaceful heart.God alone knows if it exists, I just am tired of my cure less dark bags around my eyes. My hidden sorrow . I'm losing my mind and I know , till I finish my quota of life ; I would have lost everything. I'm only lucky to be born to my mother, to dad , to my baby sister and my husband ( F.C) . No , I'm not married, but I live the life of an old traditional widow girl .  I'm a childless girl . No, not the mother but the girl ; me . I'm dead , my hope is dead. His indifference is so neat, I think he wants to me verb it now. He . my life . My soul. He's is going. I made his go. I'm a horrible girl .  Bomb squads always wore suits , one didn't and once said - when u have dealt with most demanding of situations in ur life and have come out alive then why must I wear one to get away from death; i'll come , it has to . Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn't something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn't get in, and walk through it, step by step. There's no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. That's the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine.An you really will have to make it through that violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: it will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. Hot, red blood. You'll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others.And once the storm is over you won't remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won't even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won't be the same person who walked in. That's what this storm's all about. 

I want to go , not return and stay in a form of never being around ; I just want to leave early to avoid the rush . 

Bully

Dear reader ,
Something had died in me , something had been dead for long and smell of it been gone has infused strongly into my senses . I had no urges to be who I cannot have been without working it out piece by piece . I never made friends , I never was a fashion magnate , I was never the nerd . I was always this regular girl ,  no anger to shed .  Off the Indian ethnicity for years and then pushed back to the same old tedious task of being the good indian girl .    I fought. I feared . I fought again.
Eventually I realized that my dreams were not realistic because they were only dreams not real thoughts . To come in terms with the real world is probably the most difficult thing for an indian girl . She's always taught of how to behave because one day she will be the mistress of her husband's household and then nobody will teach her how to love or be friends or cook . This era might have changed , girls meet boys , become friends and fall in teenage love and eventually dig deep in trouble trios but have we - creatures of emotion changed ? Not really I suppose . How would u react to a teenager committing suicide ? Maybe angry or pissed or sad? The emotion there is - it's just getting to much , I can't take it anymore . And here it's - part of growing up . In the midst of this 'kumar avastha 'troubles  for an indian girl , her parents face the worst of their little women and their education to being  chaste women.  Sometimes it's annoying , makes reach the brink  of  madness but then in the end of the day only those who just live their life for their families win the hearts of the members of their family and those who learn to live are women called the unchaste and black sheep . A society where no matter what happens , u have to live . If u try to commit suicide, ur man will call u weak , if u want to  break the rules the society will call u stupid , if u want to breathe , ur conscious will call u selfish . For some people this might be a nightmare , for me - it's a way of life .

Love
the bullied grown up  !

Seep Slowly

Sometimes I look back and see two roads that fall into one and then I see where my foot steps come from ; the hard rocky mountain shows some evidence of my presence, supposedly my smells . I walked and continued to walk into the rocks until I stumbled into one of the gaps and hit my head upon a rock and then blood showered out and out flew the mindfulness and person . I had died that day .
Then a rebirth happened, in which I was a hurt soul , where I was an easy catch and I went into the extremes of goods and bads.
Now , i wanted to kill that girl and take another rebirth and settle down into a good person where I live not breathe . I want to learn to love my life not mourn over it and honestly I dont know how long is it going to take to clear the 'mess' and live again .
 To seep into something worth it always sounds like a wrong decision . 

Mindfulness

I don't know what I'm here for but certainly unhappy . This sullen mood where I; the woman is always fighting and trembling to achieve what she owns , however, never praised .
So to solve this, let's see a short story .
There's a girl, beautiful and bright with sparks to enliven the whole room . She'd clinique's perfume; happy ( off my habit of characterising people with smells) . She grows into a depressed and alarmingly gorgeous person yet socially never accepted or have seeked attention .

the positives are : she's a fighter and never gives up until the air can't pass into her body to let her live . True to her traits, earthy, beautiful or say with an old head on young shoulders .
 the negatives are : it just get's even more difficult to even describe what a mess she is . true to her traits - arrogant, traditionalist and sentimental

Neutrals : Since the time I remember to have seen this girl, she was in 3rd grade , there's were only 3 girls in her class and they  were good friends and are until now to at least one of them .
Then came in the big city, new people and new mates which completely disturbed the balance of this girl and she was a social outcast who had seemed to build this shield that nobody will ever like her and she's a stupid arrogant female with nothing to be proud off . That phase of difficulty passed on too and then a new phase entered where a new country and a new institute welcomed her , all seemed so beautiful and settlement begun - happiness at last she thought .
Never be sure if u change places that u will change urself too abd the person who's been unhappy .
then came a day, regular gathering and party where a drunkard ripped off her clothes . Silence followed that moment and then was filed a case which in the end was a loose way of justice , the law as u know is nothing but a farce.
Several blackmails and heart rending events followed and yet there's this girl grown into a beautiful woman who only lives to believe that things will work out in the end . She's recieveing treatment and is trying to look forward to more than just what makes her want to die but does one thing change - will she be able to make anyone happy if she isn't?
She's breathes not alive, she's not in the process of breaking down but shattered so there it is a new beginning .

“Don't attach yourself to anyone who shows you the least bit of attention because you're lonely. Lonliness is the human condition. No one is ever going to fill that space. The best thing you can do it know yourself... know what you want.”
― Janet Fitch

Thus, always remember that conflicts of adults originate from their childhood; solve the first ones and the rest is as it is . Karma doesn't let anyone escape itself as you read my post you wil eventually know that being a bitch is not a good idea .


"The karmic philosophy appeals to me on a metaphorical level because even in ones lifetime it's obvious how often we must repeat our same mistakes, banging our heads against the same ole addictions and compulsions, generating the same old miserable and often catastrophic consequences, until we can finally stop and fix it. This is the supreme lesson of karma ( and also of western psychology, by the way)- take care of the problem now, or else you'll just have to suffer again later when you screw everything up the next time. And that repetition of suffering-that's hell. Moving out of that endless repetition to a new level of understanding-there's where you'll find heaven."
— Elizabeth Gilbert

Period

When I was growing up, I always was taught that parents , elders and family is the most beloved but now it all seems so vague . Not that my parents have loved me any less or i'm a typical teen who thinks her man is the only lover she got. I'm just in a lot of pain.
Sometimes I wonder if I will ever be able to describe happiness .
Sometimes people find different ways of expressing their sorrow because it's easy to be happy and jump around a few hills but it's hard to contain sorrow that pinches every tiny second u have lived ; like readers or writers - they read if they're sad so they can express their tears in the words of another person and writers scribble some notes which make no sense , to express that the spill has come to an edge where it won't stay. I could never write the perfect piece of page or make sense in one yet I could express one thing that I , can never love my self .
I being the a female born in a hindu family must accept that it was and will be about her people not her, the men not her , the smile of others not hers . I know , i'm sounding like a lay-off by not using any good vocab because I'm in a strange state this minute.
What has been my fault that I, was sentenced to this four walled jail where there's nothing - no hope , no color or air ?
I can never be the woman I wanted to be not because I lack confidence or any mindfulness but because I'm a failure , who failed at being a daughter , friend or anything else.
I could never tell my parents how much I wanted to excel or be their hallmark of pride but I was going crazy.  And after struggling this war , I've just come down to saying - if one's not happy ; how would they make anyone else happy and  you my girl were only here and shall be to witness failure , emptiness and  nothingness .  Now, I breathe not live .
Period .