Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts

Friday, June 10

Guillotine

Trying a different form this time. Not really thinking straight about this.

Guillotine

On his knees he waits. Head mounted. Blade sharpened. Trapped in the scaffold.He knew he had sinned. There was no denial. He ears are alert. They yearned for hortseshoe clatter. A messenger? A message to call off the blades. A pardon. He wanted to live. Right the wrongs. The sun is bright. Sweat that couldn't be wiped. Each passing second is agony. Ambivalent vitality. His existence, in transition. Sweat. Sun. Agony. Sweat. Sun. Agony. Remorse. Guilt. Filth. He couldn't take it anymore. He had sinned. He knew his crime. His demons they were till now. Now he was one. He wanted escape. Escape from the wait. Escape from himself. Escape from the guilt. Escape from the demon. He wanted it all to end. Sweat. Sun. Agony. End. Quick. The noise inside him is too loud. Kill me now he thinks. The wait is agonizing, terrorizing, mortifying. Drop the blade now he begs. Free me from myself. No longer he cared for the messenger. Death's an escape. Escape from his own skin. Unbearable. No longer he wanted another chance. Noise. Defeaning. Too loud. Sweat. Sun. Agony. Could he hear the horses come? He didn't care. What romance is better, than that with death? On his knees he waits, waits for his swift steel justice.

Saturday, January 17

Gurgaon : An Egalitarians Wet Dream

  Gurgaon is an egalitarians wet dream. There is so much equality. No matter what sized person you are, male or female, whatever economic strata you are from and whoever your biological or otherwise father is, no one here can be bullied and everyone is bullied. Kalu, my shady blanket clad rickshaw wallah for the first week literally popped his neck out to abuse everyone alike without discrimination. From Audi's to pedestrians, no one was spared. The other day, a car nudged a Gol Gappa Laari, and almost nonchalantly the Laari walla demanded the car owner to come out. Very lazily, as if it was a day to day thing for him. A simple lazy causal prelude is all that the lanky Gol Gappa man worded, ' I don't care who you are, call anyone you want, but you aren't going anywhere. Come out'.  Chill.

It has been two weeks here. All I have seen about Gurgaon is more or less summed up in the first paragraph. Gigantic buildings? Yes and meh. You had a lot of concrete and you put it all together. I really don't hold any likings to that. I am sure there are similar malls for indulgence and opulence. Meh again.

What stuck me from the terrace of my work place though is worth mentioning. Disclaimer, after passing through all the huge ass buildings on my first day I learned my office building was away from the highschool cool kids table. But I could see them from my terrace eating and giggling on their inside jokes with their perfect smiles and bodies. I remember going up to the terrace on the first few days trying to comprehend the change and adjusting to it. It used to be very foggy and cold back then which I really miss now. I could see one of those mammoth DLF buildings vaguely from my terrace. But what stuck me the most was the glaring red light banner they had on top of the building and how it diffused through the fog painting a shabby picture. The red banner blinked, and loaded from left to write and did some other effects none too visible through the mist. But it was programmed to be sequential and repetitive. Sipping tea while shivering to the cold and staring at the banner surrounded by the cacophony of horns in an instance reminded me of  Bladerunner's set. Huge buildings, a lot of people and the neon lights. To be honest I wasn't really happy the first two days, which changed later on. But this scene added to the dystopic lens with which I saw Gurgaon.

The Red Banner


To add to that, when walking back to home there comes this patch of road where there are no streetlights. So when walking back, against the flow of traffic you see a lot of silhouettes walking the same road in either of the directions. Each person visible only temporarily, a dark silhouette all the time, with only its dark solidity increasing with the approaching yellow headlight. And then in the moment of maximum proximity, the silhouette solid as ever, still black, almost as if glowing in the yellow aura of the headlight vanishes until another car passes by. Watching each one of them going through this cycle for the 5 minutes depressed me. Each one of  us just a shadow in hurry to get home. Now it is different, I relish the walk back home. I like that part of the walk. It is a release from the noise and lights. For me the visual is going to be something I will never forget.

Another thing which amazes me about Gurgaon is the cars. Not not the fancy models and the hooha. But the traffic sense. Coming from Gujarat and especially after 4 years in Gandhinagar, walking in Gurgaon is hazardous to life. If you survive you first day, just look up and thank your guardian angels. It took me a couple of near-death encounters to realize that I cannot walk the way I always walked. You cannot walk in your own world or at your own pace. And trust me on this one, if you are new to this place stick to the sides. The extreme sides. Crawl on them like spiders. Another protip, don't get lost in your own world especially if you decide to listen to music while walking back. Reminisce those memories later on or become a memory yourself. You decide. Don't assume that the cars will stop for you. You see, the number of pedestrians on the road is way greater than the cars. You are an abundant resource. Don't for a second assume that the car will stop for you if you start crossing and pretend to not look in the cars direction. Just don't. I am grateful, I wasn't hit this once. My mind's prediction model is trained on Gandhinagar traffic. Trying to use the same model to predict a car's behavior while crossing almost turned fatal for me.

Be anyone you want, but not this red car's driver


One thing good about Gurgaon is, that they put their SUVs to use instead of just buy bigs cars for the sake of them being big. They test those cars.
For example, the other day I was walking back home when all of sudden a Sumo instead of taking a U-turn from the intersection ahead, just rode over the divider. It almost seemed like an impulsive Fuck this I am not waiting decision. Sumo going slowly, la la la, sounds of screeches and brakes and suddenly the Sumo is on the other side of the road. Imagine driving on the other road. Thank god I am not. I have to wait till my brain models all these anomalies. And no, this didnt happen just once. I saw it again a few days later.

Divider? Plish-Plosh.


More about Gurgaon later, if I am still alive.
 

Tuesday, May 6

Complete Guide To Summer Breaks In College.

What college students should do this summer vacations?

How to make sure you spend your summers in college effectively. A few things a college student could do during his/her summer break and how not to waste it away?

Okay. So your summer break is about to start or it has started already. You are really excited to do things. All those pre-exam bucketlists and amazing ideas you had night before the exam or even during the exams. It is time for them.


If you are in your first year, chances are that you are going to waste this summer. Most people do, and yes most people were as excited about it as you are right now. But they wasted it. Its too easy to do so. With the summer heat, the comfort of your home and newly acquired bundle of series and movies which are instant answers to your 'I am getting bored'. Don't let it be a summer in which you finish oh so many seasons and movies and did nothing else. At least don't let it be just that.


On College and Drawing Your Masterpiece Right

Small things trigger back nostalgia . It can be a good feeling or a bad feeling. The one I am talking about triggered guilt. Not that I did something bad back then, its about how i am now with respect to that time. I am talking about my first few days in college. The excitement, fear, drama, the feeling, being alone and independent. Every moment was so exciting. And it wouldn’t be exaggeration branding them magical.

The person I was then and the person I am now are miles apart. In my case, I am sure the former looks down upon the later. Are you really what you planned yourself to be?

Saturday, April 26

Dejected


Tired from the world, he sought refuge.

Kept running from the invisible, gaining altitude while climbing a spiral staircase.
 
He knew once up there, everything would be fine.

One look at the stars, and he would turn invincible.

All his problems would disappear.

He paced. Faster and faster. Giving it his all, burning away all his energy, he jumped.

Jumped into the opening.

Only to find the sky clouded.

http://rebeccabarray.com/tag/stars/


Ps : Wrote this for a flash fiction thread on Reddit. Partly inspired from real life.

Tuesday, April 15

On Why I Started Hating My Blog

So, I haven't really been honest with my blog lately. The last post hit it off on Reddit and got me a lot of views and I think that killed it for me. The blog wasn't personal anymore. To be honest, yes the last piece was humorous, but it wasn't me.I don't mind something going mildly famous, but then it has to be something which I really feel for, not a post I ranted out in an hour over some ants.

The blog probably felt like writing for CoolAge all over again. I started writing for CoolAge in my first year of college, but could never reach the minimum amount of articles to redeem payment. And you could count that threshold with your fingers. I was one or two articles short when I finally decided to ditch it. It was more like a report writing job. Write a 400-500 long (long?) article, and get easy money. Had it been freelancing or something I would have still done it. But that writing represented me. I remember what tripped the switch. I sent an introspective article about a change in sleeping patterns I experimented with during one particular set of exams. Sleeping through the day, reading all night in peace, having crisp Mendu Vada's in the morning, and then going to sleep again, evading the noise and confusion of everyday life. It was peaceful. I didn't do it for a day or two, but almost a fortnight. There was a lot of introspection, I will try to find the article again. Anyway, CoolAge rejected it saying, it was too personal. What?! I edited it a little and sent it back, getting the same reply. And I decided to stop writing. I wasn't going to do something I don't like just for the sake of money. Especially, not before I graduate atleast when money isn't a constraint. For me writing is essentially spilling out of my heart. I don't know fancy words, I usually don't go out of line to think of smart puns or anything, I try to write exactly what comes to mind. Its an outlet to the thoughts I have usually, and not thoughts that were cultivated just for the sake of the writing exercise. I am not sure if I am making sense.

Fuck, that was some detour. I was planning on a really short post.




The personal feeling and vibe this blog had for me walked away with the publishing of the ant post, dejected, walking away sadly, teary eyed, contemplating whether it should look back or not. 

Not that I haven't been writing, I am still working on the the Ladakh memoir, and I am proud of what it is turning into. By the end of this summer it will be done. Hopefully. Or it will be too late, and then it would turn into fiction.


Other than that, I was recently reminded of the pleasure of spilling out everything, like no censors, everything, not giving a flying f' about the world writing, by a pair of letters I exchanged with a friend. And here I am on my blog again.







Weeeeeeeeeeeee are getting back together. (Sing it like the Taylor Swift song, but like an outro, okay?)

Sunday, October 6

Why I Keep Getting the Writer's Block and What I am Going to Do About It Now.


Also Kitchen Utensils.

I was thinking why I have not been writing or blogging lately. Well, I had been looking at my blog completely wrong. Sorry blog :( This blog is meant to be a blog. I was treating it as my own magazine with all the longer articles, quality and themes. All the expectations of getting a really good 'article'  killed my enthusiasm and I developed a lot of inertia. I have so many partially written articles which are rotting as drafts waiting to be published into the real world but will never end up being mouthed by other lips just because I don't think they are good enough.



Expectations are stupid stupid stupid. 

 If I look back, most of the times I have stopped writing is because of this reason. Expectations from writing in the longer form. I used to have so many ideas which could have been penned but I ended up tweeting about them (shorter form with minuscule expectations) . Tweeting them gave me the false idea that I have been 'writing' and giving justice to all the ideas in my head which wanted to be penned but were cheated ultimately. False advertisement.

"Don't tweet about your next article's idea. Ever."

Blog V2. Macro Micro Blogging. 


Anyway, I have decided to treat this blog differently now. I am going to treat it like twitter just in the longer form. Macro-micro blogging. Which is um just blogging. So smart. Haha. Devolution.

So I am just going to blog anything that comes to my mind. Anything that happens in my day. Just about anything. No expectations. Just writing whatever catches my mind's fancy. Anything random. There is an ant walking over the banana resting on my desk. Probably feeling very proud.

So, yes.
I won't give a fuck about expectations. The length can be any. I will just write anything. Not falling for this trap again. Hopefully. No expectations, no disappointments. I just want to keep writing, it makes me happy. I don't want any kinds of inertia. Just free flowing writing.

The power of one-click publish on the internet gets demeaned if it takes so much courage to do it. It's supposed to give me a voice and I am reclaiming it :)


Thursday, May 16

Opening old wounds.

This is the last senti note I am posting for a long time now.

Again it is something I had written long back. And I am not editing it before posting. Long back. Please don't try to connect the dots because they won't.



Opening up old wounds .

When something bad happens between you and someone you love, what follows is untameable anger and hatred. But as time passes by you fall into a stage where you just stop remembering the person. As if something never happened between you both. You are completely oblivious to the past event. Then comes the part, where small things trigger nostalgia. Your jacket, some particular song, some smell, or your accidental reading of old diaries. This phase is strange. You finally start thinking about your past more clearly. You still hate the person for what he or she did to you, but at the same time you cherish the sweet memories you shared with that person. You are suddenly calmer, but there is this urge building up in you that wants you to be at peace with your past. What is one to do then? Does one let go of old prejudices and ego and reach out to him or her. Or one should learn to let go and accept the fact that things always happen for a reason? Are some chapters permanently closed in our lives? What stops us from opening them? Is it the fear of facing the similar old fate? Is it fear of confrontation? Or is it just plain ego? Don't people who were once so special to you deserve another chance? It’s like, opening up old wounds and letting the blood flow but at the same time enjoying the pain and the rush it gave the first time. Well, it’s time to mend the wounds.


Present note:
Funny thing, because I can now tell you how it went. Though most of the questions are still unsolved. 

However many times I have tried opening old wounds, it has been a temporary affair. It lasts a very little time. There is something so fascinating about the past. That is why I always end up opening old wounds. It gives me a high, everything seems to fall in place. There is something so fascinating about discussing what ifs. And everything feels alright. But it doesn't last. Sooner or later you realize why it didn't work. And poof! you are back to your old life. Your trip ends. Its good that you are at peace with it at least, but   expecting everything to be the same is too much to ask for and I have stopped hoping for it. Some people are meant to be in your life for a certain time and in retrospect you'll realize their role. Asking them to overstay, demeans the role they played. 




Tuesday, May 14

On letters and memories.

Hello :)

The only thing I've done today is watched two episodes of Seinfeld and sleep. Seriously, nothing else.


But I like how I have this urgency to write something before midnight, and I have only 2 hours. The motive behind starting the blog is working very well.


On letters and memories,

Or cheating your way to being remembered. Haha.

Letters.
I have always been fascinated by hand written letters. Always. Though i never got many. I've told this to people who are close to me before. I am in general very passionate about the written word. How everything written is permanent and stays. How anyone could write, and how everyone is a writer. You just have to write what you think, how difficult can it be? It's probably those pseudo-intellectual writers who keep using fancy words and metaphors which are really not needed, that scare away people from writing. 

You just have to write what you think. Its like listening to your mind, and just jotting it down. I will save this for another post, on why i love writing so much and why everyone should write. 

Today it is about letters.
 Recently, i have received and written a lot of notes and letters. But most of them are farewell notes and goodbye letters. They are neatly stacked in my drawer of little things i have saved up from the starting of college. Little things, from clips to an Orange from first semester which has now solidified to an extent that it can be used as a ball. It leaves a tangy smell on you after you've played with it for a while. I love collecting such pieces which will trigger back memories many years down the line. Yes, in a way i love staying in the past. In a romantic sort of way. I am always looking for souvenirs of moments and nights. I even remember saving my first parchi when i was caught by the traffic policeman for driving late night. To think of it now, it makes me remember everything about the day and the pillion.   

I remember reading, "Don't have time to think?" . It is a collection of letters exchanged between Richard Feynman and the people around him. I was really fascinated. You actually get an insight into how these people think. With so much clarity and rationality. The conversations are so pure with real emotions, with words that do justice to the emotions. Unlike conversations nowadays, conversations are short, of not much importance. They don't leave a mark on you. Years down the line, i don't think I am going to remember many conversations i had with people which are close to me. Conversations online are sick and invaded by cute looking parasites like :P's . Their population in each conversation is alarming. Yellow everywhere. I even use them instead of full-stops. Our vocab is binary, with 'faad', 'rad' or 'epic' used for anything good and 'sad' used for anything bad. Seriously. We've oversimplified the beauty of emotions so cheaply.

I really wish i end up gathering a lot more letters by the end of my college life. But i just cannot wish for them and wait. I've decided to write letters, at least one, to people whom i think i was unjust with, people who i think deserved better and people who mean so much to me but don't know about it. Hand written and to be posted by mail. Its a forceful way of making sure you are remembered down the line. 

Well, i came across this interesting Ted back which inspired me to write today's blog post.
They explain it in a better way. Please watch both of them.



She has an interesting point. When she says that she holds the letter which once his father touched. It was sort of a connection. As i said, letters are ways of explicitly making sure that you will be remembered by the person who means a lot to you. You'll always know, whatever ups and downs you had with them, this letter and everything said in it , will always stay.


This one particularly being my favorite. 


I just love what she is doing. Imagine waking up one day with a bunch of letters about you from people you had no idea existed. She operates a site. So if you sign up , they tell you the next time they are writing letters for someone, and you can join in and write something as well. Imagine, making somebody's day special somewhere across the world.

Here is the link to it.

Do check the website out. She has written some amazing letters.
For example this, i guess everyone in college should read.

So I have added two things to my bucketlist today,
  • Write a love letter to  a stranger
  • Write a letter to someone I know

Sorry for the hurried up post, I just made it on time. I haven't even proofread. Only 5 minutes to go. 

Dear reader,

Please subscribe and comment or better, 
write me a letter and i'll write back :)

B - 213,

hall of residence men DA-IICT, near indroda circle Gandhinagar, 
Gujarat 382007

(I am not sure if this is creepy, But what the hell?)

Yours,
Nisar.

Ps. I could have written a lot more. But can't break the rules. Maybe a follow up post.