Lockdown notes....

It has been so many years that I stopped writing on this blog but I think it is a good time to start writing again. So what has changed since I last wrote? hmmm....I have been working for the last five years, I have grown old like everyone else and I think the biggest change has been that I'm married. Life has changed and it is still beautiful amidst everything that is happening around.

We all know that we are under lockdown and many of us have started taking online courses, some have started a new hobby and some have even started making plans to start a new business. How productive I must say! I'm also one of you who tried doing an online course, started playing badminton so that I do not gain more weight sitting at home eating random things. But have you ever wondered about people who do cannot do all these things? I had a conversation with two of my best friends and we were discussing a post that we read online which said if you haven't learned a skill or doing something productive during this lockdown then you're lazy. Is that really so? I and few of my friends have gone through depression and do you how everyday feels? Tiring and draining. You don't want to talk to people, you don't want to be productive everyday and then there are hundreds of thoughts and worries that you carry which just pushes you down. So to say be productive and have a time where you do so much, just seems too much.

So I would like to take you back to my school days, I went through depression. I would get up each day morning and feel more drained than the previous day. I wished that I could just stay on my bed and sleep but Indian parents when will they ever allow you to be on your own? I realized years later in life that the depression I went through was the culmination of all the things I had gone through since my childhood. To sum it all, it was because of the way people had treated me since my childhood. I was called a dark, fat and useless person who could never do anything in life. All these perceptions from people that I began believing took me years to come out of it (I still have a long way to go). The image that I saw in the mirror was the one that others believed I was and they were all lies. After realizing who I am, I spent a long time proving those people that they were wrong. To tell you the truth it is not worth it.

I tried writing a poem to put down how it was like:

The times that I spent in the nights
where tears were my comfort
and just had a pillow which gave me hugs
Where people could not understand my heart
that a child was wanting some love
No one understood the pain,
the hurts that people gave
It took years for that pain to heal
but the memories still haunt
the child which longed for love.

So, all that I would like to tell you all is that it is alright if you are unable to be productive everyday due to all that you are going through. I would just say stay strong and be safe because you know who you really are - a warrior who is fighting many battles within.

It still exists...

She cried when she first opened her eyes and saw a stranger's face. She was breathing, the stranger looked at her and was smiling. She found warmth in the stranger's hug and slowly, that stranger became her "mama".  That was the first word that she ever spoke. Those were the first pretty eyes she had ever seen. She found beauty in that stranger, from her eyes to her smile.

Slowly, she grew up to see beauty in the flowers, the skies and the stars. Her favorite pass time was making drawings with the stars and staring at the beauty of the trees.

She grew up more. Slowly, people began teaching her the meaning of beauty, fair meant "beauty" and talking meant "smartness". But soon she realized, everything was a masterpiece of a creator and he created everyone with his perfection and creativity.

From the beauty of  words, clothes to hair, everything was like an artists' work for her. She studied to master the art of writing, only to find that writing was an inborn talent, the more beautifully one could weave their words, the better their art would be.

She grew up more, only to find that the world wants a machine to keep repeating their daily chores, not creativity or talent. Some to break that chain of monotony preferred to travel, some went on in pursuit to find their art and creativity.

How she would have known that the world was not about beauty or art? She no longer had the time to stare at the stars, her world was clouded with deadlines and monthly targets. Beauty just meant like a word used to describe something attractive. 

How beautiful it would have been for her if she could have a long walk in a park and count the number of flowers on her path. Or to just lie down and stare at the stars. It was all a desire in her heart.

She wanted to paint her canvas with all bright colours. She wanted to weave words the way she wanted, good or bad but it was all her creativity. She wanted to walk miles and see faces with different smiles and shades, it was all beauty for her. Every face with a different emotion.

But her pursuit to find beauty, all ended in a post on her computer. She went off to sleep to see dreams that remind her that beauty and creativity still exists, atleast in her head.  

My creator's life

At times, when I look at the sad part of my life, all the broken and shattered pieces which are lying scattered in my heart. I break down. I give up. I fall down. I want to end my life.

With all those lonely walks and secrets which cannot even be shared with the walls of my rooms. I give up. I fall face down. With no hope to get up the next day.

With all the broken trusts I have had because of trusting people. I try to run and hide to a place where no one can see me like a crab which hides inside the seashore holes when the tides come. I give up. I close down.

But what makes me stand up again? What gives me the strength to get up and face the world? What makes me realize that my story is not yet over?

A person who brought me to this world. A person who saw me in all those broken times. A person who came and sat with me. He even hugged me tightly when there was a storm around me. He never let me stay in those crab holes forever. He brought me out and he stopped those tides.  

He did not judge me for all that has happened in my life. He never gave up on me. He did not accuse me of leaving him and walking away in my own path. He held me close. He accepted me the way I am. He loves me for everything I am.

He brought back to the green pastures and let me lay down near the quiet waters.

That's why I can't give up on my life. Because more than mine, this is his life. My creator's life. More than my sad broken life. This is a life with purpose and that purpose is to live with him.

The world that exists

You ask me why am I sad?
You ask me why I have tears in my eyes?
You ask me why I cry for the silliest of things?
It is not because I'm a crying baby
Not because I have not seen the worst days in my life
It is just because I see this world as a beautiful place
Like beauty in a blooming flowers
I thought love is what makes us feel alive
But now I think it is all a fairy tale
With 'they lived happily ever after' lies
I see smiles with hatred in their hearts
I see broken people who dared to make this world like their fairy tale
I do see love in some of them
I see them like warriors who want to fight just to make this world to regain its beauty
People laugh at them, mock them and walk away
Am I living in a fairy tale?
Does that fairy land still exists somewhere?
Or Is it only in my imagination?
I want to walk to that place
WALK? Why do I want to run away?
I would prefer to die struggling to make this place a fairyland rather than running away from here
I want to be called a warrior or may be a dreamer
Who never understood that she is living in a dark and lost world
I tried to come out of my dreams and believe in their world
But I ended up seeing a lot of deaths and pits
I just wish someday I reach my world
Someday will I be able to say that my world existed?

You ask me what that world is like?
It is all about love, it is all about care
It is not about pretence, it is not about 'me'
It is about dying to save other's lives
It is all about the innocence of a small child
It is about the truth which is somewhere lost
How long will I cry?
How long will I mourn?
Because there is no shortcut to this world, all you have is a path of thorns and thistles
But still I want to walk on it
Till I find that world which still exists.

And the mountains echoed- Book Review

This is one of the phenomenal books that I have come across after a long time. Khaled Hosseini is also the author of the famous book The Kite Runner. He has well-described and in-depth all his characters. Usually as I start reading, I tend to ignore few characters that seem unimportant to me but you can’t afford to miss any character because it is quite possible that that person might end up being the protagonist in the next section.

The curtain rises in Shadbagh, 1952 in which a father is telling his children a bedtime story. The story is well- presented and is a replica of what will happen in the story later. The bedtime story is about a jinn who takes away one child from the village and how the child’s father Baba Ayub is determined to find the jinn and get back his son. But when he at last finds the jinn and his son he doesn't not bring him back because he knew that he could not afford a luxurious life like the one he has now. Every night the father used to hear a voice but never understood what it really was.

The next section of the story is about how the father gives away his daughter to a family in Kabul. The story narrates a very strong bond between the brother Abdullah and his sister Pari. Then on, the whole book describes about each and every person who are attached to this child, it might be a neighbour or even the driver. Even though the girl had all the luxuries but she always found something missing in her life.

Every chapter talks about the importance of relations and how some people chose to walk away in their lives without showing any importance to feelings like Pari’s step mother, Mrs. Wahadati who leaves her husband and goes away to Paris on the other end a person like Nabi, their driver who stays back to take care of his master till his death. The story also classifies the broken lives of people like Mrs.Wahadati who depend on lust and alcohol. It even describes about the meaning of beauty to the world and how people judge on appearance with the story of Thalia.

Every chapter is interconnected and well-presented but you need to concentrate and remember all the names so that you don’t miss out anyone. The imagination and story-telling pattern is outstanding. Each story has some pain attached and a longing in people to be with each other.

In the end, you might hope that the brother regains his memory and both of them reunite after years of suffering. I don’t want to disclose the suspense. But this book is a must-read.

'Mirror,mirror on the wall, who is perfect of us all?'

I was staring at the sky watching the moon, trying to count a few stars and also guessing the constellation. The cold weather started to make me shiver but I didn't want to shift my attention from my interesting game. But, I was interrupted by my mother's scolding for standing on the terrace in a cold lonely night. I ignored the call and awestruck by the beauty of the moon as I was, continued my counting. But I was suddenly struck by a thought that the moon doesn't have any light of it's own but still manages to show off an image of providing light.

For the past few months, I had been working on a college research work and concluded with the understanding that actors who have political agendas create a particular kind of image in the society to gain votes in elections. In the same way, I feel many people in the society try to create an image in other's eyes. An image of a saint, cool person, sophisticated, intellectual image and many more. I'm not saying all these images are fake it's quite possible all these images are part of their personality but the problem arises when they are ready to do anything to remain in that image.

I feel whenever I write a post I try to create an image that I'm perfect and everyone else is going to hell. I started realizing it recently. It is so easy to point finger on another person but what if I get prosecuted for the same crime? I looked inside, recollected all those times when I pin pointed another person's fault when I myself was suffering from the same disease. I used to hate whenever my mother tried to gossip with anyone on the phone. But, now I realize I do the same thing whenever I get offended or want to vent out.

I remember using this phrase whenever I fought with any of my friend's' Tum apni ungli meri taraf uthate waqt yeh toh dekh lo baki saari ungliya tumhari taraf ishara kar rahi hai' (before pointing out my mistake look at the other four fingers which are pointing at you) now I realize the real meaning of it. It is so easy to laugh off another person's life or to exaggerate someone else's behavior and create humor out of it. But what if you are the worse than the one you are blaming?

In the end I would like to quote these verses from the Bible:

3 `Why do you look at the spot of dust in your brother's eye? But you do not see a big stick in your own eye!
4 Why do you say to your brother, "Let me take the dust out of your eye"? And all the time you have that stick in your own eye!
5 You are not true to yourselves! First take the stick out of your own eye. Then you will be able to see to take the dust out of your brother's eye.

I 'too' have a dream

Growing up watching Powerpuff girls, Spiderman and Superman already brings in a feeling that you are going to save the world one day.

I always had a dream that I want to bring a change in the world. After Class 1Oth, it was time for me to decide which professional door would I like to explore. I thought a lot.
One day I was reading Martin Luther King's speech 'I have a dream' these are the few lines which changed my life:

“Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.”

That's when I decided I want to be a journalist and a voice to thousands of those who deserve justice and a better life. There started my journey to be that change I wanted to see in the society.

After two years in a Journalism college, you realize it's easy to scream you want to bring a change in the society but you dare to stand alone and raise a voice in this ugly world. You will be thrown out of the system and never be able to stand again on your feet. Its easy to watch films like Rang De Basanti and get inspired. After my internships I started understanding that the outside world is all about money,power and a web of corrupted people.

Look around the world be it Hitler or today's Bashar-Al-Assad they have killed thousands of people but who dared to stand up and stop it or a raised a voice?

People like Julian Assange, Bradley Manning or Edward Snowden who exposed the US wiki-leaks and their networks are either jailed or living in an asylum. So, who has the guts to make a difference?

But my dreams have still not changed but have evolved and expanded my thinking capacity.

I still have a dream

A DREAM TO CHANGE THE WORLD
A DREAM TO BE A VOICE TO THE UNHEARD
A DREAM TO BREAK ALL THE BONDAGE AND REALIZE
                                                     I AM THE CHANGE I WANT TO SEE IN THE WORLD

 This is what I want to do be it 10 years from now or my lifetime. And Journalism is just the path I have chosen to reach the ultimate goal.