Tongue tied

Leena was a translator . She conversed in multiple tongues and fluently spoke in each one too. Language was never an obstacle, when she had to communicate from one to two. She conveyed spanish love messages to  french lovers for free. She effortlessly rambled in Russian, loafed in Latvian and mumbled in Mandarin, you see! She could inhale in English and exhale the argot of your choice. She composed contracts, loathed the legal jargon but conveyed the point without an error in script or speech.  Her job of translation took her  places and this time she had sunbathed in Spain, was sunburnt is France and was returning to London after her trotting spree. Before she unlocked the door to her shack, she saw this random bloke on the street. He seemed to have  emerged from the oblivion and appeared in front of her eyes and asked her where the station road is. .. Leena had known all along what she would say when she would meet the man of her dreams. She had rehearsed her speech in every style that  anyone could  probably speak. She knew what she would say to a Peter, a Piere , a Pedro or even a Poi... She had rehearsed her "Ola!" her "Bonjour Monsier !" and perfected them to the last degree. She was sure he would fall in love with her, with the utterance of her very first word. She had waited for him and pined for this second for so long.  He was 'the one', who was destined to be the recipient of all her heart's poetry. and all of her soul's literature was dedicated to He. Leena opened her mouth ... she said "..a..a..aa..a" . Not a word was uttered, her sounds were swallowed and  language failed her too. She stood there tongue tied, still as a stone not a muscle in her body moved. The man waited for a moment, waiting for her to speak , seeing this woman dumbstruck for sure , he disappeared in a minute or two! 

Published forever

Yuki decided to read the daily mail , it laid scattered on the floor . She still cannot read the world's hues through headlines, columns and breaking news.  She scouts these sheets of pulp for images that entice and muse. She crossed her legs pretending to read, it is only fun at age five to ape your parent's  style. The front page had published a familiar face, he had a smile on his face and looked very kind. She knew him - he told her stories every night and gave her warm hugs and kisses-good night! She was proud that this man she called 'pappa' had filled the pages of  a daily paper. She ran to her mom to give her the good news - he was famous! but what had he done? She ran towards her parent's room with a skip in her feet, a squeal of  happiness to give him the very big news.  Her mother stood outside the room earnestly banging on the door. Trying to force it open she screamed and wailed  beyond Yuki's known reason. There was silence that followed, a dead silence that only the living could hear .Yuki heard it too! She never saw her father again. She lived her life with the visage that made it to the front page - the image was published forever!

Mood Swings

The best example of mood swings that people accept without a choice is the unpredictability of weather. Englands' weather is a moody maiden, deciding to fill lives with glee or making its inhabitants suffer in cold misery. Spring is here , we all like to believe.

A week of sun and temperatures soared high, the birds tweeted all day long, so did the flowers peep with their blossoming heads and people walked bare like they were getting baked. It seemed liked a different country. There was a lovely fall of snow this year, the city was covered in a cloak of white, from head to toe it looked like the holy ghost. This week it has been a boring grey, the skies and the surface have nothing to say. they stare emptily into the dullness of life , not a smile not a ray. The seasons and skies are entitled to mood swings but not people? Routines and predictability is a welcome sign. No! the tears cannot come pouring down , there is no reason - there are no clouds of pain. The laughter , the tone and voice - have to be in tune. Lets mute the thunder and the gushing water and condemned them to a life of breeze and songs. Melody is not all that nature has queued in its long playlist. Suddenly lost the flow to write- like a draught the thoughts have gone to evaporate. It has to be this barren silence for a while or is it the silence before the crazy storm.  Mood swings! only if everything was set and nothing went out of hand.. We would not be nature - nature would not be 'we'!

Covered

Fateha was going to be late. It is very unlike her, she lives a stone's throw away from school and meticulously plans her morning chores. Today was not like every other day , she stands facing the mirror and gives herself a furious stare. Her anger is ablaze and she tries to conceal the crimson trace. She dabbles some cream and smears a blush .  She pleated her scarf and wrapped her visage, hiding her mane and framing her face.She smiles as she applies her lipstick with care, a beautiful face she thought to herself. It hurt to smile and as she did the rouge on her lips overflowed to her chin. Tears rolled uncontrollably only to compensate the melting pain. The cut on her lip opened wide , revealing the innards of the violence she had faced. She donned a hijab, displaying only her eyes and the hidden courage . Covering the wounds of her brewing strength, she starts to walk in a hurried pace. She heard a prayer after the assembly bell, she had made it to school just in time!

Breaking point!

I am at the verge of a panic attack. I feel that I have too many things to do and think about and I simply do not know where to begin. They are all tasks that involve my mind more than my body. Assignments, research, tutorials, rehearsals, improvisations, field work, more research, interviews and to add to all this the pain of traveling from one end of the city to another. My room mate told me  that she prefers physical work to mental work. She said that the physical pain and the strain leaves the body once you rest and nourish it with nutrients but the  mental thoughts and tasks seem to gnaw on you day and night. They never leave , they enter the sub-conscious they even haunt your dreams. It is not just the omnipresence but the lurking thoughts that seem gargantuan that make it impossible to breathe. I have been working extensively on a project for one of my modules and have been trying to document and collect data systematically. The precision and professionalism expected out of a Master's student in this country is absolutely crazy . Even the tiniest mistakes in grammar, spelling and reference work is observed and pointed at. Education in India simply does not prepare you to any of this. The intensity at which a Masters degree hits you in the Uk is unbelievable. Like a meteorite or a lightning - you will not know what hit you but you will be compelled to excel . I do not entirely comply with this mode of education but I want to put myself through this to understand how the system works. Only if you know the innards of this mechanism can you actually ignore or grow beyond it. I am almost testing my threshold as I have always run away from structure all my life. This time it has been a voluntary decision to succumb to the process. Will I survive? I am at the verge of breaking point! Lets see! Lets see! 

Walk the walk

My desire to become a writer resembles my desire to save the world. Often a result of adrenaline, inspiration or hopelessness it wears off like a candle on flames. More like the full moon night, as it takes full form and disappears into the darkness, unseen to the naked eye. There is an epidemic of words, a tsunami of thoughts that evade my mind and seldom do these translate as actions and when they do, they leave a mark of fragrance , tracing my journey in the woods of life. What was I going to say ? It has been an interesting journey so far , I have encountered death in second person singular and it has proved to be less painful than the absence of another. That 'absence is more painful than loss' was a valuable lesson learnt. What does it all mean? That our expectations of happiness have no limits while death seem to be a peaceful end to pain.
It snowed a couple of weeks ago, winter arrived in her bridal couture and filled the earth with white light. Everything seemed brighter, better and lighter. It put an optimistic smile on everyones' face. Given the fact that it would all melt away and also lead to colder days , people still built hopes of snowmen and filled their lives with glee. I must say the scene looked very pretty. This is how I had imagined it to be when I was growing up in a tropical place and  it felt like exactly I want it to feel. You know that feeling of fairy tales where everything ends with happily ever after that you listened to all your life. Where the journey was when you stayed awake and by the end you had  fallen asleep. All adventures give you a tired body a tired mind and lures you to sleep.What is it that I am going on about?  Enjoy the struggle as you walk the walk and climb the climb and fall the fall while alive.

A dead feeling deep inside

A feeling of despair dwells in the depth of my being. It surfaces when life is unsettled with unexpected jerks of emotions. Like a sunken ship in a deep blue sea, they lie in a rotting silence. Not to resurface like the dead but stay intact , like nothing has been touched. My past feels this way sometimes. Looking back! I dread looking back, it makes the journey seem like a battle ground, the memories become dead weight and the vision blurs and you cannot see the acme of life anymore. A place where you can have a free fall and never touch the ground. I see my friends and people who grew up with me grow and achieve . Climbing the ladders of success and collecting every happiness that is in store. Happy with families, a linear progression and accumulating more memories along the way. I wait and watch as they pass my way , I see them get ahead and go out of sight. The traveller in me is disappearing slowly, there is a desire to stay put, to stay still- to be a tree. Such a disconnect with everything that I have been so far, the body , the mind and emotions... The people you have met seem like a dream and the places seem surreal. A rat race, the loop and the treadmill of life. The unbearable pain of being, of staying alive without a purpose.. Why?
Like everything else, this too shall pass... !!!

My Englsh is Latin

I have been meaning to write about academic jargon for a considerable stint of time.  A form of expression that is used by a distinct few and scarcely understood by fewer. When despair is defeatism and happiness is exultation and the the dictionary is your source of meaning, you know you are chocking on words that cannot transcend your diaphragmatic sense of being.  A parlance where the painted words smudge the intended emotion as 'besotted' becomes a replacement for 'love' and 'alleviate' a rescue for 'help'. This locution locates itself in the centre of civilization becoming unavailingly accessible to the privileged. An addictive indulgence of words is a cerebral high as language is an accolade and praises are composed in its veins.The laurels of language adorn individuals as an evidence of consummation with wisdom.  It is an epidemic of elocution and breeds in the compendiums of books.  A barbican of words are a camouflage when you cannot read in between lines. I have tried to ambricate my bestrewn thoughts with an attempt to encapsulate the albatross of my plight . The credence of my failure to disseminate this idea goes to the incomprehensible argot of academics that I have simply failed to domesticate.

Me - middle class? Nah!

Life ...
It has been..
There is..
Sometimes....
How do I start this god damn thing?
Phew! Academics can ruin your expression.. your voice !
It has been a very hectic month... I have had no social life , it has just been loads of studying, writing and working. The body , mind and if there is anything else has all been overloaded with work. I remember having sat in the tube in the morning inspired to blog my thoughts... What was it? What were thoughts? Where did they all go ? I simply cannot remember, I am sure they'll come back .... the thoughts find a way to ebb along your footsteps sooner or later..
There are multiple random things that are bombarding my brain right now.. I am going to start with one thing...
A friend told me a few days ago that my thinking is not "middle class" ...
Yup! I had a blank reaction! How do you react to a comment like this? Get angry , take offense, feel proud, wonder why? etc etc etc ..YES! the context is important ! But I ll not go there! It is about "being middle class" that intrigues me ...So I am not middle class because -

• I ask existential questions..
• I do not conform to the rules of the society 
• I am not part of the system
• I question the social structure and institutions
• I do not want to own a house
• I do not want a stable job
• I do not want to have children
• I do not want to get married
• I do not want a family
• I do not abide to the request of my parents
• I am not "cultured"
• I am anti-social
• I am not rich
• I am not poor
• I am not intelligent
• I am not dumb
• I am too sensitive
• I am too numb

Apparently my thoughts belong to a different socio economic class! Phew!

Asking existential questions, questioning the system, looking at a liberal way of thinking - don't they plague individuals in every walk of life ... Aren't these thoughts classless in many ways! People will brand me a Marxist now! Categories!  boxes and brands and labels! Enough!

I ll be laughed at... and I have to make an extra effort to not care... I have to ignore the hurt and pain and say that there are things that matter more... Find them ! 

Find cracks in the walls of the system, the crevices of society. Like a pest I need to lurk under the shadow of people's shitty thoughts. They come up with highly effective ways to eliminate an individual .. to eradicate this pest that hides in the hidden sewer of the society. I belong to a bloody class that has no place in the social strata. I am sure there is research being done to eliminate this virus .. to vanquish anything that disrupts the smooth functioning of this society! I am the dung beetle, the earth worm and the cockroach of this freaking clean society!