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Sunday, 28 September 2014

Speak Now

Resentment is a long and lasting emotion. It seethes and simmers as you go about your daily routine, slowly building up, piling up all the little irritants and one day the pipe bursts and there's destruction all around, killing every relationship in it's wake. Especially the ones that count. This is something avoiders go through. And yes, I'm aware that isn't a real word. 'Avoiders' also tend to be pushovers. They agree or disagree just for the heck of not wanting confrontations.
The problem usually starts out small. Perhaps, with something someone said.They probably didn't mean any harm and the matter could be solved in a matter of minutes and that would be it. But the matter isn't resolved and it stays at the back of your head like a parasite, gnawing at your happiness and peace of mind. And before you know it, you can't take it anymore and you let all that pent-up anger out. Instead of resolving things, it just makes things worse. Because the issues that seemed like everything, suddenly seem frivolous. Instead of feeling relieved that you got it all out, you feel empty.
Holding on to a grudge helps no one. It just makes you lonely. And no one likes being lonely. So, what I intended on saying through this post was that holding on to anger and resentment has never turned out good for anybody. Live for the moment. Don't let silly problems hold you back. Confront them as soon as you meet them, don't duck for cover. Speaking up for yourself is a sign that you respect yourself. Don't get walked all over. If you want to make people happy, do it. But don't do it at the risk of your unhappiness. You're not an inanimate object with no feelings and don't you dare let anyone treat you like that. You don't want to spend your life pandering to someone else's demands, while yours can go to hell. It's a choice you make. And only you can make it. You can't blame the rest of the world for the fact that you're a self-pitying spineless fool who can't defend himself/herself. So, make the right choice. Life is too short for anything else. Speak now. The world is a more accepting place than you think. Don't be afraid to voice what you feel. When you love something, say it. When you're upset or angry, say it. You have no idea how much of a difference it can make.

Friday, 26 September 2014

Waiting For The One

I've been mocked quite a bit about the fact that I've never had a boyfriend. People (some girls, rather) look at me as though I've escaped from an asylum, when I repeatedly explain that I've never been in a 'relationship'. Now, I can imagine the look on my mom's face when she reads this and then I will have to listen to her and my sister psychoanalyzing me and my curious head. I can't say that their comments didn't affect me. Of course they did. Most people don't realize how strong words can be. That's probably why the morons of the world never shut up. I felt bad, sure. I thought to myself,"Is there something wrong with me?"
But then I thought, the hopeless romantic that I am, I've never been in love either. The irony.
 I'm in love with the idea of falling in love. And frankly, I've never met anyone who makes me feel that way. Giddy with happiness. Butterflies in my stomach. I imagine myself dancing the night away with a faceless person. Nobody has managed to become that face as yet. And I'm happy about that. I'm still a kid in many ways. I have my temper tantrums. It takes little to annoy me. The overdramatizing  of trivial problems between the boy and the girl baffle me. The little mind games my gender sometimes play disturb me. When I fall in love; real love, not a character on a show or in a novel; I want it to be real. I don't want to have to feel a compulsion to keep him on a short leash, like he's a dog and not my boyfriend. I believe that when it's right, it'll feel right. Everything won't magically fall into place-there will be bumps along the way, but it will be magical. And a writer once said,"You don't love because, you love in spite ". However crazy I might be sounding, I want someone to love me with all my flaws, because I don't believe anyone can truly be in love if there isn't complete and utter acceptance of the object of affection. I don't need someone to enumerate the things they love about me. I need someone who will still love me even when I'm, as my mom so aptly puts it, shrieking like a banshee.
It'll happen when it'll happen. To sound completely cliche, the stars might just align themselves one day, and my life might never be the same. I sincerely hope my mom doesn't make a big deal out of this. I can already hear her laughing at my idealistic and mostly corny view of things.

Sunday, 21 September 2014

A Shout Into The Void

There are times all of us have felt alone. Misunderstood. It's part of growing up. Sadly, that's a lifelong process. And feeling pain is a big part of it. Character building, I presume.
In one of my favourite love stories,'The Fault In Our Stars', Hazel Grace talks about how oblivion is inevitable. What she means to say is after the ones we knew and loved are gone, we won't be remembered. Augustus Waters, while professing his love to her, says that love is "just a shout into the void", but he is in love with her. 
At some point or the other, all of us have felt like the world's burdens rest on our shoulders. We're self-centered. We can't help ourselves. The truth is, most of us don't realise how lucky we are. There's a lot more pain and suffering in the world  than we think and have ever felt. Whether we like it or not, we aren't the center of the universe. The world won't collapse once we're gone. It will go on as it is. Sure, our loved ones will remember us. But they aren't immortal themselves.
I think all of us come into this world wanting to leave our mark on it. You have to be pretty darn exceptional to accomplish such a feat. Your deeds in History textbooks, your words of wisdom used in debates. To be exceptional, you have to do something exceptional.
Now, we can't ALL be exceptional-that negates the meaning of the word. What we CAN do is be the best possible versions of ourselves. Give all we've got to the ones we love. And, as my mom repeatedly says, live with gratitude. And, chew on this; at the end of the day, would you rather be remembered fondly by the ones you love, or the faceless strangers who mean absolutely nothing to you? You may not leave a mark on the world, but you do make a difference in the lives of those who know you.
Fame will come if it has to. It's high maintenance. Very picky on whom she chooses. We just have to keep doing what we do. And what we do, what we say may just be a shout into the void, but we get the message across to those we intended it for. That's what matters, right?

The Allure Of The Prince Of Darkness

I'm pretty sure all girls love the brooding bad boy. There's something so irresistible about the forbidden, isn't there? Sadly, this post isn't about my rendezvous with some bad boy. I don't know any at all. This is yet another post about Paradise Lost-Satan, in particular. You see, I haven't gotten very far in the first volume, but I have read Satan's speech. Milton really sounds sympathetic to his predicament. He took on God, obviously lost and was thrown into Hell into a burning lake. He tricks the reader into feeling really sorry for Satan, and then suddenly it hits you. You're sympathizing with the Devil himself. And then you see Satan is the underdog here. All of us want the underdog to succeed. And, well he does portray God as an unforgiving tyrant. I don't know if this counts as blasphemy. If so, I'm sorry.
Satan is almost Shakespearean. And Milton seems to be, literally, the Devil's advocate. I call him Shakespearean because he can be compared to some of Shakespeare's greatest characters-Macbeth, Hamlet, Caesar, Othello. All good men, possibly great-but with one fatal flaw that unravels everything. Satan just started believing that he was greater than God and deserved his throne. And being considered one of the most beautiful angels and being closest to God, it is kind of an insult when God calls a mere mortal his son. It's the age-old emotions in play here-anger and envy. All of us feel it. Usually together. You'd think celestial beings would be above all this, but that just shows, emotions aren't restricted to mortality.
Satan is the ultimate bad boy. He knows just what to say to pluck at the strings of your heart. He's like the villain you can't hate. You know he's evil, you know he's wrong and yet you still root for him. Milton manages to tempt and seduce the readers into feeling sorry for Satan. Some say it's his way of tricking the readers. Much like how Satan tempted Eve into eating the forbidden fruit. He re-enacted the 'Fall', showing that we are, at our very core, the same. Basically, we aren't much smarter now. We still give into temptation. The allure of the dark and the forbidden is just too irresistible to hold back. The best of us have given in. Hey, Satan, or rather Lucifer, couldn't control his thirst for power and that's what landed him in Hell. And he was an archangel. He was supposed to be an embodiment of goodness. We're humans. How much can you expect from us?
So, the good can definitely be boring. And the bad can be so incredibly attractive. However, at the end of the day, we have to choose the good. Because how much ever the dark tempts us, it's going to lead us off a cliff, figuratively and sometimes literally. But then, being just a tad bit bad never hurt anybody. You're only young once, right?

A Portal To Different Worlds

While waiting for a friend at the club, I decided to pass my time in the library. There's a certain peacefulness about it. It's calm and serene and tranquil. The silence isn't awkward or forced, it's natural. It's as if it were a place of worship, you instantly shut up the moment you enter. 
As I sat and looked around, I noticed that the few people present were probably around the age of my grandparents'. Not a single person even close to my age group, other than the librarian who peeked at me suspiciously over his desktop as I ventured around the books. As if I would do something sacrilegious.
There's something truly amazing about libraries. It's always welcoming. It's a rainy day? Come on in! There are several heartwarming books for you to read. A broken heart? We can empathise. You don't have much time to kill? No worries, there's still plenty for you. A library is like a therapist. It's a solace, a sanctuary. Most of us don't realise how calming it is just being there. Surrounded by pages that tell stories-not just of the characters that the authors create, but also the authors themselves. The most beautiful writing is one that has incredible honesty in it. Because writing isn't about getting words down on a page. It's about giving a part of yourself to your reader. Otherwise, it's just superficial and you really aren't fooling anybody.
So, my advice to anyone who wants it, spend a little time around books. You don't have to read them if you don't want to. But being around them is a start. I'm sure you won't be able to resist. It's a portal to magical worlds. Who doesn't want that?

Monday, 8 September 2014

Dark is Beautiful

We Indians are quite biased when it comes to skin colour. The light-skinned are instantly considered superior and better looking than the dark-skinned. Frankly, this bothers me. How does the colour of one's skin determine if one is pretty or beautiful? We're so obsessed with making our skin fairer that we spend god-only-knows how much on cosmetics that vow to give lighter skin in a few days. An entire industry thrives on our desire to have fair skin.
Beauty can't be determined by just the colour of your skin. You could be the fairest of all and yet, still not be beautiful. And fairness isn't just considered a prerequisite for beauty; it's also a prerequisite for success. How can brands like Fair & Lovely and Fair & Handsome send messages to the people that using the cream gives you "the power to shape your destiny"; and fame and fortune. Only you can determine that. Not some silly cream, that probably doesn't work. And since when does being fair and lovely and fair and handsome go hand in hand? Loveliness is something that comes from nurturing, from good values, from a kind heart. And handsome? Well, isn't Matthew McConaughey the sexiest man alive? And how many of us have dreamed of a tall, dark and handsome hunk sweeping us off our feet?
 I understand wanting to look the best you possibly can. I do. What I don't understand is, completely changing the way you look. Do you really hate yourself that much? Or do you really think that everyone will look past you just because of the colour of your skin?
Some of us have to learn to love ourselves. For others, it comes easy. If you don't love yourself, how can you ever expect to be loved? We were meant to be this way. Why would we want to change that? It isn't easy, I know. When you're surrounded by advertisements that tell you that fair skin is gorgeous, you're bound to look in the mirror and feel inadequate about yourself. The "seduction of inadequacy" is too hard to resist. I take that phrase from Lupita N'yongo's speech. But why should we let a billboard or some brand tell us that we aren't good enough? We all come out perfect into the world. Not caring about colour, about size. We can be the best versions of ourselves, we can't be someone else. We're only deceiving ourselves at the end of the day. Believe in yourself, in your talent. All of us are meant for something. And we shouldn't go screwing it up by obsessing over something like the colour of our skin.

Saturday, 6 September 2014

A Futile Search For Inspiration

I seem to be suffering from a lack of inspiration. I want to, I really want to write, but the words just don't seem to come. I'm so desperate, I'm reading articles on the internet, hoping to get something. The Oxford dictionary defines inspiration as 'the process of being mentally stimulated to do or feel something, especially to do something creative'. Sounds pretty darn inspiring, doesn't it? If the writing doesn't explain it, I'm being sarcastic.
The thing is, I don't get it myself. I don't get what inspires me. It's almost as though it comes from within. It's a reaction to something, to someone. It could be someone you know or a total stranger. It could be a song, it could be something someone said; heck, it could be food! It's something that no dictionary can describe. That feeling? Of the words flowing, of the paintbrush moving? It's poetic, almost. You'll never actually see it, but you do feel it. You feel it when you read a beautiful story, when you see the works of an artist.
 I've read some of the "inspiring" quotes that are online, and frankly, they really don't inspire me. Stories inspire me. TED talks inspire me. Some movies inspire me; The Blind Side, for one. Elizabeth Gilbert, in one of her TED speeches, called her inspiration the 'elusive creative genius'. She said that people once considered works of art and beauty, almost divine. So divine, that us mere mortals couldn't come up with it. There had to be some divine or supernatural intervention of some sort. She also said that treating creativity like that takes off the pressure. Because, if you screw up or produce something mediocre, it really isn't all your fault. Also, you don't act like a smug shmuck when you produce something brilliant, because all the credit can't be given to you. I am yet to produce a work of brilliance, but that's a pretty great idea, isn't it?
One of my favourite books,'A Geography Of Bliss', says that if you look for happiness you'll never find it. It's the same with inspiration. When you yell to the high heavens asking to get inspired, you're unlikely to get a response. The truth is, you just have to keep trying. You'll churn out total rubbish sometimes, but sometimes, that elusive creative genius of yours, might just take some pity on you and lend you a hand. And then what, you ask? Magic, of course!