There comes a time, when you become opaque. Absolutely opaque. People cannot see through you. If and only if you speak, will you be predictable. The ball stays in your own court then. You can steer your life the way you want it to move. 

There comes a time, when you care less about showing up your emotions, because you realise no one is going to value your feelings as much as you will. Most of them will mock it in front of you, some will seem empathetic and mock it behind your back and a few handful ones, will actually care to listen and not judge you. Unfortunately, those will be really really “few” and most probably they listen, because they themselves would be in some great shit – right then or maybe sometime before.  The only ones who realise how deep this shit of silence is, are the ones who fell into it. 

It is true that one must never shy away from talking or finding someone to hear it out. On the other hand, we must always be eager to lend an ear to someone who is troubled – from outside or within. At times, just listening to someone may initiate the process of healing in them. A very rampant phenomenon that takes place in larger joint families and larger cohesive communities, a reason why chances of being mentally stressed or depressed is much lower in such environment than staying in an isolated environment. 

I do not consider introvert-ism as a born trait.  You cannot be a born extrovert or an introvert. Everything has to have a history. A chain of events which forced you or shaped you to become what you are. I strongly believe every human craves for attention, craves to be touched – emotionally, socially and physically. A human touch, a human hug, a human closeness, a conversation, an action of caressing, a silent companionship by the sunset and so many other things, they are universally considered as the healing elements. How can a human be a born solitudinarian?

“I have opened up with you, like I haven’t with anyone else till now. I don’t know what makes me so comfortable with you. Maybe it is the fact that we are not knotted to stay forever and I believe in you”, she said, hands in hands, while we sat on the evening bench. 

“It’s a new experience for me to hear something like this, from a girl like you”, I blushed while I tightened our hand’s grip. 

“You know what?”

“What?”, I asked. 

“I wish I always had someone who was not a superficial friend, someone who would listen to me when I wanted to speak, who would scold me when I made a mistake, who would be around when I was tired and exhausted,” She spoke while her eyes sought something in the starry sky. 

“Yea I know and you know the best thing about it? I am right here!”, We both smiled. Neither of us looking at the other. 

I realised that day, no one is opaque. Never. People turn opaque. Not everyone can gel in with everyone else. Some people prefer special companies, while others seek a generalist companionship. It is extremely important for a person who is in a close relation with an opaque person to caress and pay attention to the small details and provide as much comfort and trust as possible and once this happens, believe me the brittle glass will flow like water and the most opaque surface will turn transparent. 

But if you are the one who senses opaqueness in one’s behaviour, relax. There will be someone who will turn up and generate that small adn comfortable niche for you to fall upon. Till then, steer your life in your own style. 

Always Ranting, Rantzaada..

As the late night dawned, I lay on my bed looking outside the balcony. It was 1:45 am and the fog had slowly started to take over. In a distant view, a faint night canteen was open. I was trying hard to sleep, but it was taking, like ages to happen. I again unlocked my phone, opened instagram and started surfing. Scroll>Scroll>Scroll. I come across a post. There was a question on the post. 

“What are you reacting to?”

That hit me hard. Very hard. Like a fresh red-brick on the forehead. What was it? Is it really something that big? That is keen on taking away my senses, my sleep, my attention, my dedication towards my responsibilities? How has everything suddenly boiled down to a meagre attempt to survival every single day? Like every day I wake up and I am unsure of a hell lot of things. The schedules don’t work as before, my alarm is no more able to wake me up, the night maggi and the hot glass of milk is not able to make me sleepy anymore. 

What am I reacting to? 

Most people out there would deny that they are indeed facing an issue. Some people blatantly put this up on male ego and stuff. I, though, don’t buy that opinion. At times, people don’t share things easily or to everyone who asks for it, because, there might be a situation wherein that fellow person will not be able to explain or explain the exact feeling which is present in their mind. This is one reason. Another reason can be that people often happen to spread or mis-spread things about someone, when shared in confidence. There have been several instances of these problems with every person around you and people have now lost the trust in sharing their innate and personal conversations or situations with others. 

For me, what was that thing which triggered all this? Is a person involved? DId someone shatter my world? Or is it something precious or ambitious that I lost or could not achieve? None of all these. 

Sometimes you just feel disgusted with yourself. With your behaviour. With the command you have over your own senses. These are things, wherein some are changeable, while some are practically unchangeable. These feelings start with spotting, then becomes disgusting because you simply cannot control them and then turns up the mode of guilt wherein you are simply able to connect every wrong doing with this trait of yours and then the guilt surges. FInally after al this, you end up surrendering. 

Surrendered to? The fact that this part of the game is lost. Not because you put it down or you are weak to fight it up, but because there is no reason whatsoever to fight it out. What is gone is gone, what is lost is lost. FOREVER. No amount of fighting or struggling with this behavioural errata can be removed. It is like the flour-grain sized impurities that just pass the sieve test. You dont get mad at it. You just let it happen. Because the effort put in to free the flour of the impurity that is similar looking is simply not justified. 

Same are the nuances of my problem. 

Suddenly a message popped up on the notification bar. 

“Still up?”

“Yea”

“Sleepy?”

“No”

“Umm.. I just had a doubt. Can you just listen to this and tell me what you’d think about it?”

“Yea sure, tell me what it is”, I replied as I straightened up on the bed and closed the door so it becomes a little warmer. I came in and snuggled back into the quilt. 

“So, there is this little problem with me. This guy here, ….” and she kept typing and we had a long conversation for around 90 minutes. Funny, isn’t it? 

While I was patiently listening to her and reading and replying to her chats, I took up the marker and wrote on my wall, 

“What am I  reacting to?”

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

25 minutes.13 km to cover. I was driving fast. Very fast. It was chilling cold. 8 degrees cold and I had rushed out of my house on a scooter without a pair of gloves. While I could feel my hands getting cold and numb, somehow the thought of them getting cold did not come to my mind that moment. I just steered through the blank roads.

I felt my phone vibrating. I touched the phone and I could sense the chillness on my jeans. There was another message. “I feel terrible. Pls come fast.”

I felt cold. Yes cold. Not the winter cold. That cold was different. The winter cold freezes your body, this cold freezes your soul. I remember I was in a situation where I could not decide what was the next thing I should be doing. Somehow reached her place. 

There were a few people outside her house and an ambulance standing with the doors open. Before I could comprehend anything, 2 females carried her inside the ambulance. She lay unconscious. I just stood there.Silent. Speechless. I had been wanting to ask her since the night before – if she was sick. I was constantly getting a gut feeling she is sick, even when we were not at the same place and we did not talk for those two days, somehow I was getting a gut that she wasn’t well. I texted her a few hours before and she told me she wasn’t well. She had been deteriorating ever since. 

The light of the ambulance when amalgamated with a dark cold night is a horrific thought in the first place. All I could hear was the emergency beacon and all I could see was her face.

I followed the ambulance to the hospital. Suddenly, the doctors ran up to me, and held me up by my collar and scuffed me for not asking of her wellness even when I had the thoughts that she was ill. I kept trying to make them understand that it was just a gut feeling and I should have had responded to it because it concerned her health. I rebuked them for holding me and attending to her. They told me there were less chances that she would survive. 

Somehow, they were not at all willing to take her out of the ambulance. I do not know why. They told, we are not going to attend to her, because she is here because of your negligence. It seemed as the whole world was shouting on me for not asking her health out even when I had gut feelings about the same. I tried to force cover my ears with my cold hands, with no effect. I saw people all approaching me pointing fingers. 

“You killed her.” 

“Your negligence killed her”

“You could have saved her”

“You had the prophecy”

“You killed her, you killed her”

The noises were so loud and squeaky, it nearly deafened me. I closed my eyes, but it did not help. The voices kept coming near and near. 

I felt the sweat on my face. I felt a little warm below my waist. My eyes opened. I saw the red light in my room – the zero watt night bulb. It was shining red and bright. I checked for people around. The noises were still echoing. I could hear myself panting. I reached out to the water bottle and had a few gulps of water. I managed to somehow sit down. 

I looked around again, just to check. 

Did I really have thoughts of her being unwell since the past two days, or was it just a part of the dream? It took me a couple of minutes to realise it wasn’t just in the dreams. I was actually getting this gut feeling. 

I took out the phone, opened the conversation only to realise it was more than 11 months since we talked last. Should I? Should I not? 

“Are you sick?” I typed. It was 4:19 am. 

And then slept. I woke up to a text saying, “NO” It was 9:45 am then. 

Indeed it was a dream and not all dreams turn true. 

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

Yes people do move on. They have to. Most of the times, they do not have an option but to move on. But moving on does not always mean  you’re healed. Or you’re afresh with better inspiration and more life. Never. Not at all. Most cases it leaves an irreplaceable mark in your head and heart which has the potential to call you back into it, anytime it wants. You are simply at the mercy of that mark, most of the times. Unless you go ahead and find an even better person right in time. 

There is a particular period of time when a person can get healed up. Call it the incubation of the hope in you. It starts right when you’re broke – with relations, property, expectations or any other valuable personal losses. You get a limited number of days to call it a day and then move on to something else. But sometimes, it’s a little too late for you to call it off and you get stuck in a vortex. 

The vortex moves in a way which is repetitive. Present-life-past-pain-present. This cycle keeps repeating. Repeating so much so, that it simply hampers your present to a stage where it becomes nothing but just an image of your past. Present should never be an image of your past. It should remain afresh. If you miss that deadline of moving on, this is what it turns into. 

What happens then? What happens to someone who is stuck in a vortex? What does it take to bring someone out of that vortex? How to recognise they’re stuck in a vortex?

When people are stuck in a vortex, they imbibe behavioural patterns, which surely are not what they ought to behave like. There will constant efforts from them to run away from their past, while sometimes they will simply run around collecting even more memories from the past. All their actions and inactions, both, will somehow lead to that one single thing, person, place or event. That is when you know they are in a vortex. 

A person who is stuck in a vortex, will be strictly unavailable at some hours while readily available at others. Their presence cannot be guaranteed by any rationale. Such are the tenets of a vortex. 

“What else would you like to have?”, Manu asked me. 

“No thanks! I am okay. Just a glass of water maybe”.

“Yes, sure!”, Manu went inside and came out with 2 glasses of water and a glass jug. His house was a studio apartment, well-arranged and smartly designed. I was looking through the walls and the spaces around. There were lots of paintings. Surprisingly all of them were either in blue, black or yellow. They were all made on a small canvas block, possibly 6 inch square blocks. Atleast 30-40 of them. 

“Those paintings?”, he asked me while he saw me checking out the paintings. 

“Yeah, the colors. So many of them.All either blue, yellow or black. Any specific reasons?”, I asked. 

He stood up and walked closer to the paintings on the wall. 

“These are my daughters drawings, which she had drawn in her drawing book. There were 4 books. Our house had a fire. A very bad one, while I was in Singapore. Gulped up both my wife and my daughter. My wife was left with permanent charred skin and a blind eye, while we lost our daughter.”

“Oh, I am so sorry for your loss. I am really sorry. I did not know about this.”, I spoke softly appalled by what he just said. 

“No, its okay. You don’t need to be sorry. It took us and especially me, some time to accept the fact that she wasn’t here with us anymore. I re-drew the sketches she had made, with whatever was left from her charred sketchbooks. I colored them all in 3 of her favourite colors. Blue , yellow and black.She would have loved it. She loves it, I am sure from wherever she is. I am sure.”

“Yes, she would.”

“I did not want to keep painful memories of her. That is why I did not keep her photographs. The photographs bring me the memories of her charred body. When I see these sketches, what comes to my eyes, is an image of her being happy, excited, curious and creative. She would often show her work on the video calls and ask me how was it. Only if I knew I would never be able to see her with her work.”

“I understand. These are really beautiful works though.”

“Yes. They are. Let’s leave now? The meeting starts at 10 am. We must not be late”, we began to pack up for the annual office meeting. 

He was our director for our operations department. He had lost his daughter in a fire that broke in their house 7 years ago. He is living peacefully with the memories of his daughter. This can, well, be an example of a vortex he is stuck into. Somehow, he seems to be at peace with his vortex. Not all are so lucky. 

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

Why can’t we simply get over people? Shouldn’t it be a months or at the maximum a couple of months to get over someone? Why is it that people keep lingering over the person for months, some for years and songs forever?

There are two reasons to it, that I can ascertain – firstly, it’s the complete rejection of the person to try to come out. Usually, it seems more romantic to be left back in the puddle of love even after being dumped and dumped deep inside it. Seems like just another chapter in your book of romance. This group makes no attempt whatsoever to come up or get over things. They are the ones who are going to keep it alive in their lives, heart or at the least in their minds for ever. These affairs go beyond the thought of execution or completion. This is a unique school of romance which allows you pr infact pushes you to stay aloof to that feeling forever. Please note that they may get along with someone else but no one will be substituting the earlier mode from their minds. They will end up living with someone and loving someone else. These are love stories people will cry on and the ones which are engraved in history.

Secondly, there is this group of people who, realise it will be tough to come out , but keep trying. Over the time they do tend to come out, either by making themselves involved somewhere else or by getting along with someone. They are firm and robust with their beliefs and have reasons to the question of moving ahead. They are practical, open minded and welcoming to opportunities. They make good managers, homemakers and parents. They are focused and achieve targets.

Sadly, there also exists a third class. Not a third class precisely, but between the previous two. 1.5 , you can call them. They are the ones who behave initially like the second ones, but end up being the first category. Such people are the ones who are consistently confused and most prone to falling for someone else the moment they receive that warmth.

Amongst all, it’s the first category of people who suffer a lot. But they usually don’t care. Because they are not in the situation because the situation brought them there, but they are there because they made a conscious decision. To stay in the puddle. To keep missing their other halves. To have someone who loves you like that is a blessing. It will always be.

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

“Ey, what is this big thing here?”

“What, this?”

“Yes! This looks like a silo, grain silo. Where did you get this from? And this is plastic sack, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is my dustbin. I keep this so that I can keep the waste inside my house and then settle it out once and for all, when it is filled up.”

He was kind of shocked when I said this to him. I was surprised this shocked him. After all, there was nothing so weird about it, or was it?

“What the hell! Why do you want to keep the waste inside your house man and this is already filled up, Why are you still filling it up further? It will overflow or simply blast off someday. It will rot inside and there will be gas formation which will make you sick. Why are you behaving like this?”

I asked him to leave. I was not willing to answer his stupid questions. What happens inside my house is my issue and no one else has the right to intervene in how I manage my house. 

“Well. if you think this is not proper, you have full authority to just leave. Please leave. Let me live on my own terms. Thank you!”

“What! I can’t believe this! You’re asking me to leave?”

“Yes, I am and please do!”

He rushed out of my door and banged it back. As he went out, I brought out the waste and forced it into the seemingly filled sack. It was a big bag, big enough to have all my waste inside without me taking this out of my home. I feared people will come to know I create waste too. I have been filling this since 4 months and it looks like it’s filled up, but every time when I have some more waste and I just compress it a little more and force the waste inside. And then everything is again clean and tidy on the outside. This is working fine for me and I am okay doing this till the day the sack gives up. Takes no more pressure inside or maybe just blasts off. The waste also generates a lot of leachate liquid. I need to manage them without anyone seeing that. Leachate smells and smells a lot. It also makes the floor dirty. Puts a lot of marks on it. I need to clear off the floor every time the leachate leaks out. Its a tedious process, but at-least no one knows about it. 

I know what is going to happen to this sack. One fine day, when the pressure I put to force in the waste will just be too much, this sack will give away. Everything which is inside. All gas, leachate and the decomposed waste. I can smell it already, but people outside won’t. Actually they cannot. No one knows about this sack. It’s the biggest sack you can ever imagine. Huge capacity it has. 

I just hope the waste I generate per day decreases now. So that by the time I put new waste, some waste gets decomposed so that the sack doesn’t give up. It will be terrible. I am supposed to be a clean person. 

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

“Hello, stop. Stop, Please. Stop stop.”, I stopped the car driver. Stopped my two wheeler at the side of the road and went upto him. It took me a chase of around 2-3 kms to make this guy stop. 

“Yes, what’s your problem, why are you following us?”, he asked furiously while his family in the car, looked cautiously at me. 

“Someone threw a chips packet out of your window in the middle of the road and when I was chasing you to ask you about this, the people sitting in the rear seat threw a plastic bottle, a banana peel and a paper plate, right here on the road. Why can’t you simply keep the waste to yourself and then dispose it later on, in a bin.”

They looked at me blankly and as it had to be, started the car and just sped away. They might have just ran over me or anything. Clearly  the man, apparently the head of the family as it seemed, did not even care to listen to what I was trying to speak. It must have been the regular 2 minute speeches he might have been hearing everyday from all people, all media about cleanliness, about hygiene and what not. Such are the conditions.

In an another anecdote, while travelling in the non-AC sleeper in the railways, I had a small confrontation with a seemingly well-educated and a sober gentleman, again with his family. Ordered food from the pantry. A decent 120 rupee veg meal x 3 and one non-veg meal worth 160 for himself. 640 Rupees, which shows that his economic background is also firm. The family had a wonderful dinner together and then this guy stands up. Takes everyone’s plate one by one. I was quite content that among all idiots, atleast this guy will stand up, collect the trash and throw it in the trash bin. He did collect stuff and opened the window and boom! All outside. 

I couldn’t just stop myself. “Are uncle, throw it in the dustbin, why are you throwing it outside? He smiled and said, “sorry”. And then neglected. Then they drank water and then threw the bottle too outside. I was right there. Certainly, they did it on intent. I mean, why!! I was left shocked by the behaviour of that person. What would be the teaching he would give his family, his kids and then their kids? Even if he did not want to go to the dustbin, he could have simply collapsed the trash, kept in below his seat! Why throw it away outside the window?

I feel amazed at the way, these used plates, chips packet, empty bottles become so toxic after their use is done that people cannot even hold it in their hands or in their bags even for a second more. They cannot wait for even  a small dustbin to come up, but throw it right instantly then outside on the road. 

Whenever I travel, I carry a spare cloth bag with me and a bin-bag ( those cloth “like” which are not cloth actually). While I am travelling in the train, I prefer to collect things in my bin-bag and then dispose it later on a one go. 

Not just disposal but wise disposal is a matter of importance. Like trash should be compacted as much as you can in places where there are public dustbins. Also, plastic bottles must either be put back into the bottle recyclers, or bottle crushers available in most public places these days. Your trash volume should be as minimum as you can keep it. So compress and throw.

I know, all of this is really a mundane topic to discuss and deliver. It is really boring to listen and equally boring to write about it. But you cannot expect a society that cannot dispose its waste properly to dispose off its thoughts properly too. 

Look along the railway tracks outside major stations and highways. They will be laden with plastic bottles, meal packets, thermocol plates, paper packets, etc. Where do we lead as a society then, if these small things are not taken care of. 

I will never stop writing and sharing my thoughts on these, because I believe waste disposal is one of the key issues that shapes the mentality of a society. The society that manages it’s waste in an efficient manner, looks more sober and acts more wise. 

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

“Sir, OTP?”

“Yea, 8765”, I settled myself while the driver fed in the otp. 

“Sir, drop sir?”

“Townhall. Gate A.”

“Okay sir”

The cab started. I was about to meet this lady for possibly the one last time. We’d been such good friends for such a long time. Gosh! Lower KG to now. 20 years. Ah! She is among the few ones with whom I have shared my video game cassettes, my battery video games, my water bubble game, my orkut account, my facebook profile, my whatsapp, my instagram, my gmail.. I mean, there will be few people with whom you have shared so much for so long. I was here to possibly bid her bye. After her family shifted from a small town in Jharkhand to Bengaluru and now getting permanently shifted to Moscow. I was here to bid bye. To where she was destined to. 

“Yea, I am on my way. Don’t crib now you swine. Just wait. I am just 20 minutes late. You won’t miss your flight. Relax!”, she was really furious on the other side. I cannot help, this is my style.. I make late entries. Lol.

“Any friend waiting for you sir? Should I drive faster?”, the driver showed a little too much concern over what he heard on phone. 

“No brother, just relax. That’s the way we fight. Nothing serious”, I replied. 

“It is so good to drop people at destinations which make them happy! I am such a blessed professional”, he said suddenly out of context.

“Eh, what?”, I was shocked at this unexpected thing he said. 

‘Yea. I feel so satisfied to move people from a point A to point B and dropping them at their destinations. I am sorry, I am just boring you off. sorry.. “, he silence suddenly. 

I felt that he wanted to speak up a lot of things. I decided to knock a conversation with him. 

It was 20 minutes since the ride begun, we reached the Townhall. She was there waiting. Furious! She is always. 

“Sir, should I stop it here?”, the driver asked. 

“Yes. Please and thanks! It was wonderful talking to you! All the best!”, I shook his hands and then left. 

We both roamed around for an hour after we met. So much to talk, less time. It was like every third line was something different. Complete chaos of a conversation! I also told her about the conversation I had with this driver while I was coming. She grew interested and asked to speak of it in detail. 

So this guy that drove me here, was a homeless. Not that he was poor, but just homeless. He lived in his car. In some parking or the other. He has adopted this life for a couple of years now. He belonged to a sub-urban colony of Bengaluru. 3 years back he lost his family in a gas cylinder blast. The blast was so massive, he lost all 4 members of the family. He was in Bengaluru that day for some work when this happened. The whole house burnt down. He continued to live in the same house for another 8 months, when someone suggested he take up a job of a cab driver. 

He got a job with a local travel agent who had  a large fleet of cars with him. Over months, he became one of the favorite staff of the owner. He worked abnormally long hours, maintained the car well and had minimum wear and tear expenses. He slowly started gaining good reviews on the cab service and had an aggregate review point of 4.9. He was also awarded by the cab aggregator application company for his wonderful services and brilliant feedback. He was very happy on work, but fell deep down in gloom when he returned home every second, third day. He finally decided to donate the land and the house to an orphanage and live life in the cab. 

Since then, he had been living in the cab. People he meets up are his family and he happily takes them places as per their requirements and needs. He said he felt relieved when he dropped a person to their destination. A place which would make them happy and him contented in return. He said, he has lost a home now. Home can not be re-built. So, he stays within his cab now. You would not guess even a cent of his life from his smile and normal conversation. A hell of a person I met! 

She looked at me and listen at all of this so carefully. I wondered why. 

“Are you okay?”, she asked while she held my hand. 

“Umm. yea! Why do you ask?”

“Nothing”. She hastingly closed the conversation. I thought it was better not to roam around things and come back to both of us. 

Post this conversation, we had an ice cream, a horse walk and a big candy floss. This was our favourite dessert since childhood whenever we met. Then I  dropped her back home and met uncle aunty and her brother. It was a warm meet and I bid them good bye and came back. While coming back in the cab, I took out my wallet to pay the driver, I found a chit in my pocket. 

It said, 

“Thanks for dropping me home! You are a joker.”

_____

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

“Sir, how much?”. The diesel bunk staff asked. 

“2500 rupees”, I handed him my card for payment and opened up the fuel tank. 

The fuel indicator showed close to full. How easy was it to refill a tank, pay and refill. I wish refilling emotions was this easy too. Refilling zeal, ambition, positivity. I would have paid any price to have kept it at maximum.

I drove out of the fuel bunk and stopped my car by the highway. Where should I head to? I just kept thinking for sometime. While I looked around, my eyes struck on something – on my dashboard. 

“Let’s keep it here”

“Where? On the dashboard? No no! No way! Not here!”, I resisted. 

“Eh, let’s try no, it will look cute.”, she asserted. 

We fought over this little thing for 20 minutes that evening. Finally when we reached the party venue we were already behaving like strange people and our friends knew we fought again. They brought us a big bowl of icecream and asked us to eat together. Everyone in our circle knew food was the only thing that could blow out anything between us both. 

I saw the icecream bowl and knew what they were planning to. I stood stern and did not take the bowl in my hands. She took it instantly. Before I could even think, she was already on it. She had the typical grin on her face when she looked at me while having her ice-cream. 

I put my keys back into the ignition and started. I knew where to go. 35 km from the town was a farm. Fruit farm, you can say. There are wonderful vines and large trees and lots of cattle and young ponies. It is really a place to be on weekends when you simply want to rush out on the weekends away from rush and the mechanical hush. 

After 45 minutes of drive along the highway, I reached this place. I am coming here alone for the first time and I don’t know how it’s going to feel. It is so different to be coming to a place where you have come always with your close people around and then to come to that place again, all alone! I parked my car in the parking and went and stood near the small gate that separated the vine and the  guesthouse. 

“Can you jump over this?”

“Yes, ofcourse. Why do you ask?”, I asked.

She smirked and said,”I don’t think you can”.

Without a second thought, I’d taken a jump on the gate which was barely a meter high. The landing was disastrous. I was all over the ground and I had landed on a small calf, which was just on the other side of the gate. Poor me. Poor calf. 

I laughed at this. The security took a cautious look at me laughing while standing on that gate. 

“Whom do you want to meet?”, he asked. 

“No one”, I replied. 

He looked at me with an eye, not most people throw on me. I went close to the gate, opened it and entered the office of the guesthouse. I took a ticket and then entered the vine. Went straight to our favorite place. 

At the end side of the vine, there was this small property fence and then an open pasture land for distance and then a small lake, very small lake. Maybe a pond. But that small thing made the entire landscape look so beautiful. The reflection of blue sky among the greens. This is where we would mostly sit, once we were done with our farm walk. 

“Shall I ask you one thing?”, she asked me while we both looked onto the sky. Blue,wide sky. 

“Um hmm”

“What do we call this?”

“Umm . what?” I asked back.

“This thing that we share.. Like you and me, what are we? Who are we?”, she sounded lost. Lost in nature. Whims and the blue sky.

“We are human beings and for the who, I am not sure. Neither was Mahatma Gandhi at our age, so relax!”

“Urrgghhh, shut up! Why do you have to bring your 7th class humor here, that too when I am asking something really serious.. Dont do this….”, she blasted! Haha.. 

“Okay, okay man! Relax! I was joking.”

She looked at me with the fire look. 

“See, let’s not try to find out no, who-what-where-why! Let’s just enjoy what we have now. Be happy where we are, what we are upto. Let’s enjoy these little things.”, I replied in a serious tone. 

It was calm. Just the both of us. Blue sky. Green environment. Slight breeze. A bird on the tree next to us. 

“I sometimes feel we are suddenly going to change our state, from lovebirds to strangers.I don’t know why, but that makes my heart break.Feels like choked.”, she sounded serious. 

I took her hand in mine and held her tightly. 

“Don’t worry. That won’t happen! I am right here. Beside you.”, and I held her tightly. 

“By the way, do you know what the direct conversion of matter from solid to gaseous form is called? Sublimation!”, I tried to ease out.

“Arghh, you and your 7th class humor. Oh GOD! I really want to run away from you when you do this”, she barely toed her anger line. 

I stopped smiling. Looked at her. Held her hands for a few seconds and let it go. 

“That is sublimation!”

Always Ranting, Rantzaada. 

Do you see a window around? What do you want to do? Open it – or Close it? 

Your answer would probably be, that you would chose to decide on the basis of how the weather is, the level of privacy you want or the lighting conditions you require. Window, though it has a positive metaphorical meaning, still can be asked a lot of questions. Not everything positive is bound to be unquestioned, unasked, unobjected. There are things which have a context, a requirement and a pretext attached to it and decisions are very much made on that basis. A medicine is a medicine only if there is a right disease it can treat, else it is just a lump of chemicals. 

Keep smiling, it heals. We’ve all heard this. We have all heard people saying this. Forget the past and move on and smile. It will heal things you’ve never thought of. I know these lines are very powerful in themselves and may be effective in curing lots and lots of problems globally, but maybe this is not the solution for every single thing in this world. Some issues require us to stick to something. Maybe for a little longer, even after they are gone. There are things which you have to do to establish a faith within yourself, for yourself. Maybe to just establish your beliefs for your own self. 

Maybe there was a thing or two you really wanted to do for yourself and failed terribly. For all others, moving over the failure and looking for greener pastures is the “right” way.  But why do we have a stereotype with the failure. Why can we not stay with the failure and cling to it, why can’t that be a life too? After all, there was something that made you attempt for it in the first place. You had a feeling for it, a thing, a liking, a target, didn’t you? Now, just because you failed in it, does that mean, you ditch the failure and move on for another hit at success? Why is failure supposed to be the one that has to be stepped over? Why does failure have to be just another thing we have to “overcome”? 

Failure is not negative always. Just as “opening a window” may not be positive always. We have to understand that while success can always be a happy outcome, failure can sometimes be lovable and embraceable too. You do not need to try to overcome failure all the time. You can simply accept, embrace and live with it. Getting used to the feeling that you failed in what you wanted to do, in what you wanted to attain. You can stay with the feeling of “not being” or the absence of success. It’s okay to be labelled a failure. Life is yours and not for everybody else. You do not have anything to prove to anyone just because you failed. If you want to go ahead and prove to yourself that you can do it again and succeed, good enough.  But if you are okay with accepting and not trying again, it’s okay to be so. 

I remember a friend of mine from school, who wasn’t very good at studies and he very well accepted that. Not that he did not try, but he failed once, twice and thrice. Ideally, as per the rules of the universe and the motivation given by “humans”, he should have kept trying for more times. But he chose not to. Not because he could not do it, but simply because he embraced and accepted failure and was okay to live with it. He was okay being called an average student and sometimes a failure. He had no issues with it. That guy today is a well known artist and has thousands of fans of his glass-art in Russia and Czech. If you meet him today, he will still say, he is a failure. Some of you, by now will say, maybe the failure gave him power for better things. NO! This is what I am arguing for. Why do we have to “power” things? Maybe there are some, who just want the things to take the natural course. To accept the things as they come. 

And by the way, who knows – the definition of success we have may not be the one nature thats true! To just exist is also life and a beautiful one. To embrace failures, to have them show on your face, in your stories all the time, in your mind all the time is okay. It’s all about designing your life to your definitions and not the world’s. And if there is a world around you which you care for and want to be inclusive, it’s also okay to have multiple personalities of you and have multiple characters. like the dresses we have, different for office, another one for the home, another one for the bed. It’s all about the context. Make yourself happy (too). 

Is there a failure in your life, which you embraced and did not try to correct/overcome/forget it? How does the feeling fare up with you? Share it in the comments box below. 

I love to hear back from the people who read me. In case, you are reading this, do comment in the below section. I would love to hear what you got to say. 

Always Ranting, Rantzaada. 

“Why did not just not tell him. You should’ve spoken to him right then and there. Man! Enough is enough!”, I blasted on her, literally! It was the 4th time Manav had abused her and I could not just take it. 

“I don’t know why, but I froze, I couldn’t just speak. I kinda choked on my own thoughts. I don’t know what happened.”, she replied. She was still sulking. Choking while she spoke. I hugged her and tried to comfort her. Brought her a cup of coffee and we sat for an hour or so. Not much talk. Not much discussions. I simply wanted to ask her, why was she not retaliating against that abusive relationship. How long would it be, till she called it cuts? 

After she kept mum for an hour, I finally spoke back again. I could not just hold it anymore. 

“What ya, what are you even thinking? For him to slap you again, kick in your tummy and throw you out of his house one more time, like a 7th time in a row? You were not so weak, were you?” I just bumped everything I had in my mind for the last one hour. 

She looked at me, still making that same blank face. 

“Arghh, dude! Speak up.. Don’t make that face again, else don’t talk to me ever. This is frustrating, I am  asking you something and you’re absolutely mum! TALK!”, I was losing it now. The bruise on her face made me even angrier. 

“Stop it yaar Amit. What do you think I should do? Hit him back, end the relationship and come back home? After all these years?”, she replied back finally.

“Bro, are you serious? This is you saying this? This is crazy. He is slapping you, abusing you verbally, showing you down publicly and you’re still afraid to even defend yourself because its been a long relationship? What will it even fetch you, if God-for-sake this relationship goes even further? More abuse?”, I asked. Now this was the tipping point. I really concluded she was being stupid and I needed to wreck her love-mask now.

“It’s not that easy Amit, to just walk off?”, She looked at me, I could see thick tears in her eyes, waiting to roll down. I felt anguished and bad for this lady, I have been calling a friend for 22 years now.

“What will be enough, Preeto? When will you realize, it’s enough? Verbal. Physical, public assault. What’s left? 

“A little bit of more faith, trust and lot’s of love. That’s left. I still see some day he will realise he’s doing it wrong.Things will be okay, then.”, I was shocked at the level of optimism (stupidity) she had.

I went and hugged her and prayed within my mind that may her optimism win. But I was also alarmed at the way, many other girls would also be bearing verbal, physical, public and sexual abuse by their male counterparts and still keep mum about it. All because, they hope, one day- it will all be fine (out of a sudden, like a Jinny)

What is enough? How much is enough? Why don’t we realize we’ve been abused enough to retaliate? Is so much hope and expectation toxic? Most relationships, be it friendships, family relationship, love,etc undergo abuse stress by either of the partners. But people keep holding. Why does it become so easy for people to just allow them to be used, assaulted and abused? Where does the self-respect, education, awareness, empowerment, etc go? 

Why is it so difficult for people to realise, if it can happen today, it can happen tomorrow too, and even the day after that. It’s not rocket science. You don’t have to be a pshychoiogist to understand that. 

I bid her goodbye and left. Before starting my bike, I texted her.

“Take care. I just want you to be happy and safe.”

“I am. Tc. Bye. Thanks for coming over.”, she replied. 

It was a weird disease she had contracted – excess optimism and painful love. All the while I drove back home, only one question roamed my mind, 

“How much is enough?”

______________________________

Your comments and views on the above are welcomed in the comment box below. Please share any experiences you’ve personally had or heard of. I really wish, someday, people start respecting and loving themselves too, than just loving the relationship and getting abused by such absurd and retard mates. 

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

“No! Not at all!“ he shouted. 

“No, no,no. I am going to watch cartoons tonight. I have planned it all. I aint coming out with you all!”, I replied. 

“Bro, you’re seriously gonna watch childhood cartoons now? And that too you’re saying you’re gonna watch it through the day! How sick!”, he rebuked me for this proposition I had made and they initially thought I was joking. 

I gave him a look. A deep look in his eyes. 

“Okay, do whatever you want! I don’t know the limits of your craziness yet!“ he murmured and just left. I felt a score of sigh! I went to the kitchen, brought my bowl of biscuits and namkeen and sat down in front of the TV. I plugged in my USB in which I had arranged each and every old Cartoon Network animation series back in the early 2000’s. 

I don’t know why so many people of my age, respond so fiercely when I tell them, I am gonna watch over my childhood cartoon shows! I mean, that’s not the way you judge me and if that makes you judge me, God help your brain! 

These shows, the older ones – they give you a different purview of life. Where every story is simple. Sweet.Short. A hint towards how complicated and screwed, we have made our lives upto. Overthinking, overstressing and over-expectations are ruining us. These shows give us a blank canvas where entertainment happens without application of pressure or too many reviews from big influencers. 

I often go back and spend an hour or two watching some of my favourite cartoon seasons. It helps me ooze out a little or sometimes a lot more stress off-my mind. I resort to the popular methods of partying and drinking and outing with a group of people less, instead I have developed my own set of mechanisms which help me cope and de-stress. 

Cartoons are close to me, not because of the fact that they are cartoons, but because they represent an era. An era, where school and home where the only two things we had to deal with. Where the biggest betrayal ever was someone taking their bat away after they got out. Where the exams were the toughest things and mom’s food was a daily routine, like thrice a day into everyday. Ah! Take me back. 

And yes, watching cartoons doesn’t make me an idiot kid back again (well, I wish it did). It does not. There are things to learn from those stupid looking characters. Qualities like loyalty in love, friendship and business, being optimistic, being perseverant, being happy most of the time and sticking to the basics. It was not rocket science then, it certainly is now! When most of us are lost with our basics, we are most of the times, unclear about where to begin, where to go. In such a situation, a cartoon series ( and I am talking of the older ones on Cartoon Network and a few others from other channels) can give you a proper hint as to what and where to seek for answers. 

I will list a few cartoon network shows before I end this note. 

1. Adams family. 
2. The jetsons & The Flintstones 
3. Sylvester and Tweety 
4. Looney Tunes 
5. Tom and Jerry 
6. Scooby Dooby doo 
7. Pokemon 
8. Powerpuff girls
9. Courage the cowardly dog 
10. DEXTER’s laboratory 
11. Johnny Bravo 
12. Ed, Edd and Eddy 
13. SAmurai Jack 
14. Justice League 
15. The road runner show 

“Are you done with your stupid shows? Can we eat now?”, my flat mate was quite annoyed by now. I switched off my tv after completing my cartoon watching target for 2 hours. I felt light, happier and a little more stupid, just like I was when I was a kid.

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

This is part-2 of my conversation with a suicide-prevention specialist. To read the first part, click the below link. 

Rant 158 : Core of suicides, from an expert himself – 1

https://the11oclockdiary.home.blog/2020/01/01/rant-158-core-of-suicides-from-an-expert-himself-1/

“So how do you usually talk to these vulnerable people, I mean what is your basic approach – to help them focus on the better things or help them first heal from the issue?”, I asked. I was already engrossed in listening to him and simultaneously thinking within, trying to process the things he was speaking. 

What he told me then was even more alarming. According to his own personal experiences, he said, reminding good and the wonderful things like life, world, relations, etc. actually leave too llittle effect on the vulnerable person. It is not that they agree that there are beautiful things in this world, but the problem lies that they believe that it is themselves who are a problem. He said, it is the mostly built misconception among all counsellors, that reminding people of the good life, the beautiful things, etc. can help people stop from taking such ghastly actions. This leads to a cosmetic, outer enforcement of a “ointment” on the burn. While the basic focus should be healing from within. 

Healing from within is the key. I have believed in this since long and he was kind of certifying this as the better method to deal with such suicidal-instincts. It is surely a very lengthy and a long way to betterment, but it is sureshot way and once healed, the chances of going back are very low, because in the very process of the slow inner healing, the person sees and witnesses the entire process themselves and becomes cautious and aware of the misgivings of such behaviour. 

Now, another question that came up in my mind when he talked of self-healing was  that how did he ensure that the person would not attempt another attempt to suicide while it is just the beginning of inner healing? I mean, what if they just don’t live till tomorrow? How will inner-healing work then?

To this query, he told, that he operated in a way where in he just gave one instruction to the person he was working with. He would ask them to promise that they will be talking again tomorrow. That there has to be a tomorrow is a big resolution and a hope for such people. The promise that I have to keep up till tomorrow because I am in a healing process and things will change over the course of time is the key. 

Suddenly after all this explanation, he became a little mum and began looking outside the window. I wanted to ask but I could not gather the courage to. I thought maybe he just remembered someone whom he might have worked with who failed to make it. So, I sat back and did not ask. 

“I could not save her”, he whispered slowly while he was looking outside. 

“Who?”, I asked. 

“My daughter”

I was astonished. I did not know what to say next. “Oh, I am sorry” was all I could say. 

“She was depressed and suicidal right under my nose and I could not figure it out then. I was an engineer and thought she was just being a normal silent kid. I failed to recognise she’d been distancing away since long. Inch by Inch – first physical distance, then mental followed by social solitude and then finally she gave it up. 

I just listened, unable to make a call on what to say. I was speechless. I could not find words of consolation for his loss. 

I keep talking to people. Anyone who looks lost or a little off. I generate a conversation, now. I have often tricked people into having a conversation with me. They will not know probably that they have already begun having a conversation with me. This all started when I lost my daughter. I promised myself, I will now listen. Bring people in conversation. I will pull back people from the dark alleys of depression. What she wrote for me in her last note, no other vulnerable person will ever write that again. I am just running after making that dream happen, where everyone is heard. 

“What did she write sir? I mean, it’s okay if you are not okay telling that”, I spoke softly. 

“She wrote, 

..

..

..

Dad, I wish you could’ve had once listened and talked with me”

________________________

Whether this interaction with the specialst is a real one or I just made it up is not a point of importance. Point of importance here, is that everyone should be heard. People need to have more conversations. Talk to people who look vulnerable. Lend your ears to people who want to be heard. Maybe you will be the biggest reason that they will survive further. 

If anyone of you has suffered with a suicidal-tendency at some point in life, please do comment below. Tell me if what this person conveyed makes sense. Hoping to hear!

Always  Ranting, Rantzaada.

“Excuse me son”, a man probably in his late 40’s asked me. 

“I am trying to download an app, but the play store keeps saying download pending. I need to download it before reaching Delhi for my cab. Can you help?”, he had some issues with the app downloading. I took his phone. 

I cleared the cache and put the phone on a reboot. We both waited while it rebooted. 

“You are going to Delhi too?”

“Yes, uncle”, I replied. 

“Good”. 

The phone restarted and I now tried to download the app again. It worked. I handed him his phone back and started looking out of the window again. 

“Smartphones are comfortable, only that sometimes they create issues which we are unable to solve on our own”, he was trying to intiate a conversation probably and I was not really into striking one. 

“Umm, yes. Sometimes it happens.”, I replied and again tried to break the eye-contact. 

“So, you are working in Delhi or studying?”, he asked. I now felt it would be really rude of me to try and break over any of his further attempts to strike a conversation. 

“I am not in Delhi. I will travel to Roorkee from Delhi”, I replied. 

“So you are working in Roorkee or you have your home there?”

“I study there at the IIT”, I really wanted to avoid saying this, but he did not really leave an option. 

“Wonderful, great! I like these guys from IIT and all, very technically apt and logical fellows. Extremely hardworking.Glad to meet you.”, I faked a forced smile and tried not to force my head outside the window. 

In a fit of courtsey, I too thought of asking him a little about him and the reply that I got made me get into a very deep conversation with him.

He told me he was a suicide-prevention specialist and works with the Government of India. He is a mentor and a private consultant who has partnered with the public sector to give services to the vulnerable people across the PSU’s. It suddenly pulled me inside. After about, 10 minutes of basic intro and mundane questions, I threw up the most basic question I see in a suicide-mitigation effort. 

“What makes people take the ultimate step?”

He smiled while he listened to this carefully. What he said to me was really enlightening and hence I am sharing this in writing. 

He said, from his own counselling experience, that it were not the big and drastic events that lead to most suicidal attempts. It were not the physical impairments or family feuds or the losses of properties or burden of debt. It were not the events of betrayal or the grief of losing someone special. 

Most events happened, as per him, because of the following two reasons – firstly that, ‘I am the sole center of the problems around me and I may become a problem for others around too’ and  secondly the ‘fear of a very sorrowful, frightening or a catastrophic event in the near or coming future’. 

Though the above two feelings are deep routed in some of the previously mentioned causes, they are far from being a direct impact of the same. People don’t usually quit because they lost in love, they quit because of the fear that they will never be able to accomodate with another. People do not quit because they are in debt, they quit because they fear the social stigma, rejection, loss of pride, etc. 

While on a shallow observation, the subtle difference might actually not be boldly visible, on a deeper look however, I felt everything he said was true. Because as a society, the types of judgements we make on people who quit shows our insensitivity towards the main underlying issue. We hear things like, he quit because he lost money and there are so many beggars who live even when they are homeless, she quit because she lost her love – but she could not live for her family, someone quit because they failed in their exam-look at the goons, they simply don’t do anything and still roam around shamelessly. 

Such blatant comparisons do not make sense. Not at all. These statements can be made only by people who have never themselves been in such a situation. Or maybe when they were, they were in a company of close relations or families, which could help them survive and diminish the negativity within. 

There is more to the interaction I had with this person and I am glad I start the first post of this year with something as sensitive as this. Please read the next post too for further points from our conversation at the link below.

Rant 159 : Core of suicides, from an expert himself – 2
https://the11oclockdiary.home.blog/2020/01/02/rant-159-core-of-suicides-from-an-expert-himself-2/

Always Ranting, Rantzaada. 

It was the first of January in some distant past I remember. We were all ready with the firecrackers and all equipment for the celebration ready in hand. There was a buzz in the colony. Our block had 5 houses and 4 out of the 5  were on the road with family. Everyone. Every single person was out there. The 5th house belonged to an old professor. People say, he gets panicked and angry if you ask him to come out. We all thought he was a very arrogant and a stupid person who wouldn’t come out even if cute kids went in to talk to him. Anyways, all kids decided to take a hit again that year. Me and one of my friends thought we’d enter his house, ask for water and in the meantime invite him to come over at 12 am. 

I went in and asked for water, as per our plan. He nodded from behind the window and went back inside. He did not forget to close the window on his back.We thought it was a little rude, but we were on a mission, so we did not mind. He came back with a glass of water. But surprisingly did not invite us in. 

I, already overwhelmed at the feeling of being inside his house, asked shamelessly if I could come in. He opened the door and let me in. It was smooth. No double questions, no doubts, no weird views. A little more simpler than I’d thought. 

Let me tell you. This was not a normal house. NOT AT ALL. Our moms have really kept our houses like heaven and this was complete chaos. Things thrown around and there was a damp smell inside the house.I thought maybe because he cannot cleanup his house and maybe, hence does not invite anyone inside. Poor chap. Understandable. I kept sipping the water from the glass as if it were hot tea and stood there. He went inside the kitchen and came back with a biscuit. Only one. Just one. Back in my home, even the maid gets two when she  asks for water. He gave me one. But anyways, this was not the plan. We were not here to eat biscuits. He handed me over the biscuit which i quickly grabbed. 

I asked him out. For the evening party. He looked at me with a slightly anguished look on his face. It literally made me frightened for a time being. Then he smiled softly. Brought his big head down to ours and asked us to join us for a small party right then. If we did, he would give a thought to our party as well. We were excited, not because he agreed, but because he agreed so easily. We nodded. He took us inside to another room. 

A room. Probably the third from outside. Small room with a bed and a stool and a small wardrobe. It was all. Looked like no one had been using this since some time now. We went in. He pulled out a small wooden table from within the bed. It had a photograph frame. It was shining fresh, surprisingly. He went to the kitchen again and brought out a cake. Small cake. I wonder if we 3 could eat out of that one cake. 

He kept an old newspaper on the dusty bed and asked us to sit over it. We sat. We did not ask. He bent down, kissed the face of the lady in the photograph and then lit a candle. Then with a feeble voice wished her a very happy new year. It was wierd. We were kids. We thought the old man was crazy. We came out after eating a little pastry. We did not tell anyone anything except that he would come out. 

He did not. But that night, he switched on the light outside his house. A little yellow light. He surely enjoyed our company. 

This was a small anecdote from the past. Must be over 15 years since that happened. But today, as an adult, I can relate to him. How, sometimes, life can take absolutely weird turns and twists. It can make you an introvert overnight. Life is the strongest. It has unopened chapters for everyone in its book. I judged that old man that night. I judged him for the love he had for the lady. The lady who had long passed away. The lady, without whom he rejected all celebrations. She was the sole soul he had attached everything to. 

That shining photo-frame amidst the dusty furniture, showed how me must have caressed that photograph for days and days and for years and years. 

Amidst all these thoughts, I called my father. 

“Dad, do you remember that old chauhan uncle, that old fellow who lived by our house, the 3rd one?”, I asked. 

“Yes. That old fellow. What about him?”, My dad replied. 

“When did his wife pass away? I mean, I have seen a photograph of her wife but do not know when she passed away. Just came to my mind now.”

“Wife? Whose? That old fellow?”, My dad confirmed. 

“Yes, yes.”

“Eh, he wasn’t married man! He was a single fellow. He worked for this university till 62 and then retired. He died alone in his room. It was a tragic death. I wish no one has a life like him. Earned so much, gave out everything to people in need. And died in his house alone.Poor chap!”, My father said. 

I stayed mum. I hung up. 

Who was she? Why was he so close to the lady? People confirmed he was a bachelor till death. He was 71 when he died. 

So does that mean, he kept talking and celebrating festivals with that lady for his whole life? The lady or simply put, her photograph? 

Can there be a better and more profound love story?

I guess not! 

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

I was on a treatment schedule. A period of a couple of weeks and some prescription. I was asked to see things I loved, talk to people whom I cared about. I have never made such a tight schedule trip before, but I was out this time. Had a wonderful 2 weeks! Revisited the most loved things, met the best of people and visited pretty good and warm new places. Places that would ensure I heal effectively. That will ensure I am not the one who will break to meagre things in my life.

Whoever told food, people and places don’t make you happy, hasn’t really travelled. I have seen good things, met warm people and tasted wonders and believe me – this is the best medicine I could have had in the fag end of the stupendous year that I had.

I fell to a small event that had a disastrous impact. We often judge the impact with the number of people associated or the loss made in material terms- property, finances, etc. But seldom do we care about the mental bruise that we receive and for all such bruises to heal, the above prescription was vital. Who prescribed it to me? I don’t know. Maybe – Myself! I believe it is best to believe in something that you are going to do, because yourself being confident is a push like nothing else.

Not the source of the pain has disappeared, but with all these memories in my mind, I can surely pull myself off for some months or maybe years more. Sure this medicine is another addictive object in itself. Now, going ahead, 4 days from now – I will be back to square one, where things began and back to all the things I was trying to run away this whole year. Hopefully, 2020 will be a better one. Hopefully, it will not be this demanding. Or maybe, even more, who knows.

But as I pack my bags and leave the place, I wish to confess. I feel I am, in love with the medicine.

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

“I am sorry, please come back. I promise won’t happen. Never again”, he cried while he spoke. His coarse, heavy and choking voice broke her heart. She wanted to speak, but she did not know what to say. He’d never been that rude before but that day, he just crossed all limits, she did not know how to react. It was difficult for her to excuse and believe that it wont happen again. She cut the call. 

“I am sorry, please come back. I promise won’t happen. Never again”,he kept saying while he just collapsed down on the wall of his room. It was a mistake that shook his existennce infront of her, his existence – their existence. 

She could not stand either. She kept looking at the phone for his next call. She wanted him to call again, but did not know what to talk. In the last 5 minutes, she had just hmm’ed thrice. 

He texted. 

“Pls. I am sorry. I want to talk to you. Cannot bear this anymore. This unrest iis killing me.”

“You should have thought this when you blocked me out everywhere”

Silence. 

Mum. 

After a week, she called him. She asked if she can end this up. It was time and it wouldn’t work either. This time, he kept mum. She called, talked and hung up the call.

It’s been some time since that happened. Not that people don’t part, but the weird part of parting is, how things change for both of them, if at all they do. Why do people change? Why do situations change? What changes them and why is bringing such people, back to the square approximately impossible? 

I am sorry to be making this so cliched and regular mundane stuff but I am stressed by the fact that so many people around me are “just leaving away” people they once committed to. I see friends, acquaintances, etc been pained and broken and how long it takes for them to literally come out of such a vortex. While most do come out, a few do not and those who are not able to come out are the ones which are labelled as the “weak ones”. 

Why do people break this way? Why isn’t it easy to understand that you were good- a person comes in – you feel better – that person stays – you become best – that person frowns – you become tensed – that person leaves – you break. If it was just one person, why is it so bloody difficult to restore? 

Because it does not remain the issue of two people anymore. It becomes a world around those two. A small cob-web of issues, of thoughts, of dreams. A small world of expectations, realities, daily habits, things of excitement, etc.When one of the them decides to call if off, there is enough motivation for the other one to leave, but for the one who is still, pretty much in the block-hole is the one that suffers. The one who walked out will have a very strong reason to do so and probably another wall to lean on while they feel the brunt of separation. But the one who is stuck in the cobweb, that person has to deal with everything. 

The expectations, realities, daily habits, things of excitement, thoughts and the dreams. Even here, at this point there are 3 type of people – one who will also simply walk out of the cobweb with a hard-heart. They are the ones who will probably tune back to okay pretty soon. The second type of person will be the one who will walk out slowly, but will find it extremely tough and will leave with a heavy heart. These will take a little more time but will eventually, after a long time become okay. The third type is the one that creates worry for me. I feel for this group. The one who simply do not give it up and stick to the cobweb, creating an image of absence of the person and then living with it. They are mostly prone to outer-isolation and depression. Because they start living with someone who does not exist. Someone who is away. Someone who won’t ever come back. That is the zone I think about. It is indeed difficult to pull out people from there. Extremely difficult. 

I am not going to give a judgement on  what should be done or what not. Because everyone has their own requirement and necessities. There is a different world to almost everyone. 

_____________

Always Ranting, Rantzaada. . 

“Why don’t you just sleep. It’s 3 am already. You will get yourself a day of headache again if you keep doing this”

“I know, but I just don’t feel like sleeping. I feel fresh.”

“But, you haven’t slept in the last 27 hours. Don’t joke around with your body. Go sleep.”

“Are.. but..”

“No! Sleep. Switch off the data, keep your phone aside and sleep”

“-_-”

“What?”

“Why are you being a parent, I will sleep when I am sleepy!”

“Next 30 seconds, you don’t go offline, you don’t talk to me next”

“Arghhh, -_-”

*Stays online*

“15 seconds lef”

“Okay, okay going.. Fine.. good night!”

“Good! Nice boy! Good night”

“ #beingamom ”

“Whatever!”

_____________________

This is how most of my usual good-nights sounded like. I would be scolded, blackmailed and then scuffed upon so that I sleep. Sleep, well in time. Still sleeping was somehow stretched till 2-3 AM but I would in most days sleep at 2-2,30. Even on days I felt sleepy early, I would stretch till this mid-morning time so that I could hear the scuff at 2 am. 

There is always someone in your life (apart from your immediate family) who takes care of you like a full-grown kid. Your meals, your sleep, your headache everything. It can be a friend, a close friend or a partner. When such people exist, life becomes a little easier for us. 

And the best part is, these scoldings are actually the love in disguise and we all will agree to it, we sometimes just do things to ensure that they scold us. 

To be independent and powerful as an individual is a boon, but being alone is a bane. We usually keep independent and alone as the same synonymous range, but that is one big deal this generation is faking it in. BOTH ARE NOT THE SAME. 

Individualism has got more to do with conserving and enhancing your identity as a separate individual. Being independent means to be able to make your decisions, the critical ones on your own and take steps to stride in that direction completely self-motivated and with an unmatched zeal. 

While in youth, a generation falls too easily for this fine line between Independent and alone and there is the range where the entire problem lies. In a faux attempt to enter the independent zone and enhance individually, people foray into the hidden zone of isolation or being alone. We forget, being alone is/maybe very suited up professionally, but when it comes to personal life, we are meant for association. Friends, families or life partners, be it anyway. Things are prettier when we are with someone. 

When you share your space with that special one, everything feels lighten up. You can dump off your daily shit in the mind and can spend a relaxing conversation or two to lighten up the rest of the day. Nothing comes free in this world and neither will this. There will be issues, misunderstandings, requirements of commitment, etc. which are again a part and parcel of the entire scheme of things. Things will go in a certain way, they are meant to go. 

Being in a relationship with a friend, family or a partner, we are meagre guardians and mates of the other one and not the masters. The moment one becomes the master, the genres of independence and individualism take a serious hit. The one-ness must be celebrated, but not at the cost of the individual identities. 

One+oNE = ONE, but the “one” still has to remain a one.One and oNE are both different and they need to be different. They will create a union in an altogether different dimension and will not lose their identities to form one. That is hazardous. That is dangerous. That is being non-independent. 

People in young age usually get confused between terms and philosophies. I guess probably that is because people tend to focus more on what other’s have felt, than to analyse and comprehend what we ourselves feel. I personally think, we all need to read our lives, our selves, our surroundings, our environment more than those belonging to an unknown person in recent past, long past or someone from a different background altogether. 

_______________________

Do share your opinions on the above. I feel elated to read the feedback from my readers. It establishes a dialogue, in contrast to the one-sided trauma that I create in my posts. 

Always Ranting, Rantzaada. 

Ever waited for someone to come and hold you and take you to your destination somewhere? Felt anguished at no one coming to help you out when you’re in trouble? Felt the pain about the fact that you helped so many but no one is apparently there to help you? Welcome to the world of hitch-hiking! 

I was once in Thanjavur for one of my temple-run trips. I had to go to Kumbakonam next and it was near dusk time and I had only 30 rupees left with me (credits to an auto person who charged me a humongous 200 rupees for 4 km ride and I couldn’t just fight out with him). There was no atm counters around and the only way I could reach the bus stand was to ask for a ride. I was determined moreoever, to get a hitchhike ride this time. So,I stood silently along the road in a white shirt and grey trousers. 

I could see drivers, two wheelers, looking at me and then seeming to slow down adn then just pass away. I kept standing for an hour or so and then a two wheeler stopped. He told he was also going to Kumbakonam and that he would be happy to drop me. Such warmness is seldom expected and your heart smells fear when things happen, but you want to trust that person and move on. I did the same. I sat along with him and we started. 

It was a good journey on a two wheeler in dry summer of Tamil Nadu. I was sure I would be there in an hour. That guy started to ask me things. Where did I come from, my purpose of visit, etc. He kept talking to me in english and pretty soon we both became much comfortable in the journey. 

Suddenly, he gets a call. He slows down the vehicle along the highway side. It was his daughter from Thanjavur. We were barely 10-15 km from Thanjavur now and I was in the middle of the highway. He said he would have to return to Thanjavur as his daughter is sick. He offered me to drop me back at Thanjavur. I refused. I thanked him and told him I’d look for another vehicle from here on to Kumbakonam. It was 6.30 pm and growing dark, but I thought I’d manage. There was a small tea shop closeby. I assured him that I would find my way and bid him bye. He left. 

Thereafter , I was trapped into an even greater trouble of finding a vehicle in between the higway. I looked around but there was no one I could have actually even asked for help. The small tea shop vendor was also seemingly packing for dispersal. I asked him how long would he be here to which he replied an hour more. I was already tensed now. Should I have went back to Thanjavur with the man? Was it badluck that the man returned back midway? Or was it a sign of something better coming along? Was I supposed to now stay back here the whole of the night (highly improbable though) or try and get any vehicle as soon as possible and just leave? I looked around for any vehicles from any sides of the road. It started to turn tiring now. 

Such sequence of events are unfortunate. You wait for things to happen. Eagerly. You are determined and don’t quit by taking the simpler way. You wait. You wait. You get a ride. You start becoming comfortable. The ride suddenly needs to go back from where it begun. You are asked to be dropped back, but you refuse. You want to be moving ahead on the way. You expect you will get dropped and then picked up by another one and then you end up being stranded, because not everything happens to be at your own pace and whims. Is this the most unfortunate series of events? Who is at fault? What could be the remedy? 

In most hitchhiking experiences, there is just one way out. Be patient. Persevere and wait for the right person to come and pick you up, towards your desination. It’s also equally important to be asking the help in the right direction. An excellent ride in the wrong direction won’t lead you where you wish to go. So direction, too is important. 

Also, be a little safeguarded while you hitchhike. Make sure your safety lies in your hands Importantly, keep the person helping you out happy during the travel. Share your stories and hear them out too. Life is nothing, but a hitchhiking trail. At some point of time, early or late, the correct vehicle will come ewho will just stop close to you, pick you up and take you along!

Always Ranting, Rantzaada. 

Ever heard of a term ‘rehabilitation’? Or commonly known as a rehab? What does it do? Provides an environment where you can let go an addiction and the environment or the facilities around will help you prevent going back to it again and again. Over some time, your mind will be less and less demanding of the addition substance and gradually you will start seeing the benefits of not being in addiction. Once your mind is aware that the benefits are real and far-fetched, your mind will initiate the process of self-healing. It is at that point of time, that you truly begin to heal and overcome addiction on your own later on. 

But what is so addictive about addiction? Why do we get so pulled up by the term ‘addict’? What is addiction? Why do you need such a complex mechanism and a well-laid out and motivated schedule to come out of it? Why is it not as easy as it is to skip a gym session or be a cheat at your diet plans. 

Addiction is basically the want to experience a particular feeling again and again. Addiction is normally catered and spoken in terms of substance overuse, liquor, tobacco, etc. but here, I am talking of anything that can make you an addict. A person, a place, a hobby, an acitivity, a food material or all the other things that was mentioned in the last line. 

What does a person think before and after he does something to which he is addicted? When addiction happens, when the urge rises, you seem to discredit all objectivity and rationale. Your habit supersedes everything else and the only question that arises in your mind is – your happiness or respect? And to most addicts, most of us, we fall to the trap of happiness. And as soon as the intake is done, the habit is fulfilled, the realisation dawns upon. One realizes how foolish and nonsensical our thoughts were. How we could have avoided falling into it again this time. You mind suddenly gets into a mode of a defensive construct for the next time such thoughts appear. 

Your brain makes a road-map to defensive interaction with your habit the next time. You seem to be in total control. You realize what problems your habit is bringing up. You realise the loss that has been made and which will be made ultimately. You know that every single time you do it, you are an inch closer to ultimate perishing. 

But this is the power of addiction. Everything you thought of, all the constructs you made in your mind, every defensive approach you designed for yourself, all the rationale, everything goes for a toss when your addiction dawns again. You again enter the same decision making loop. Happiness or Respect? And guess what? You keep choosing happiness each time. 

People who are addicts – addicts of any sort, need to be understood and not rebuked or mocked publicly. They have fallen in a trap, from which they are themselves trying to come out more than what you rebuke him or her for. But there is a certain degree of stubbornness in an addiction, which simply does not go easily. 

Share your addictions and your views about the above in the comments below.

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

While I am travelling, many people often ask me if I was a tourist or a traveller. I avoid myself being labelled a tourist. I really believe I am more of a traveler than a tourist. Most people and friends do not understand the difference between the two. If I was asked, these two are completely different – two worlds of traveling. 

A tourist typically marks the most popular places on the map. Visits them, mostly in an pre-thought and arranged manner. They prefer staying in the best hotels in their budget and prefer eating from the best hotels and restaurants. They even might be looking to eat their own regular food with numbered occurances of local food. Their main targets are the spots – the famous ones and can be seen moving around with a lot of pomp and show. Great dresses and fancy hats and camera’s and thousands of photographs and selfies ( ah! I hate them). 

An experience of a traveller on the other hand, is completely different and a person’s professional and mental builtup is clearly indicated on the way and types of spots in their mind. Myself being an architect an urban planner – settlements, design elements, houses, pattern of the city, streets, local transport, local food, the intagible cultural heritage and ofcourse, the tangible heritage is of great value to me. I listen to all stories a place has to tell. From ASI buildings to municipality offices, every building has a story to tell and helps you form an opinion about the place. 

A traveller will not go in for conditioned experience, rather go with local resources. Food, stay, clothing, accent of languages, mode of transport, etc will be pretty much responsive to the local features. Atleast this is how most of my trips have turned out to be. I prefer talking to local people, shopkeepers, local residents. I like to have the most genuine local cuisine which I may or maynot find at other places. All this creates a separate identity of the place in my mind or in any traveler’s mind for that purpose. 

Apart from all this, I am also fond of walking. Walking a lot. Walking across a city, its lanes, its markets, its bus terminals, etc. It helps me map the city in my mind forever and take an essence of the city which is impossible to generate if you are using a guest mode for transportation like a booked cab or a bus or a hotel car. I sometimes, prefer to stop at a particular location and talk to people. Sometimes, I might spend invariably long duration of times at a completely unexpected spot like a tea stall or outside a cinema hall or a market place. The kind of information about the place or the city you get from these sources, you will not find anywhere else. 

Travelling for me is not just sight seeing and spot-hopping. It’s more of understanding the context and the background of a place and then moving on to the spots and avoiding the ones which are heavily infected with tourists- atleast I try to avoid as much as I can! The truth is I simply cannot stand people disguised as tourists, who come to these beautiful places without knowing anything and all they care here, is what they are wearing, how they are looking and the number of wierd looking photogrpahs they have clicked. This definitely is not my vision of travelling. 

Share below your idea of a travel. Do you recognise your self as a tourist or a traveller? It is absolutely ok to be a tourists. Just a tourist.But travellers do carry back a lot more than the usual tourists. 

Always Ranting, Rantzaada. 

What do you think is a place? 

What do you feel like when you are in a different town? A town you’ve never ever been to before. A place where you probably will not come ever after. A place with just a one time visit. A visit for something special. To take away memories which will possibly take you away in the dreamland when you’re back in your life. Struggling away all days and nights. All warm and winters. All rains and winds. Those places. 

A place is not just a physical construct. Not even a social construct. For me place is always more of an individual and emotional construct. I recognise places in relation to people or expressions. Thanjavur for me is about RajaRaja Chola and his wonderful and prosperous kingdom. Rameshwaram is about Lord Rama and his quest to bring back Mother Seeta from Sri Lanka. Agra is a spot for love while Delhi is a land of constant struggle. It can be a friends town or a celebrities town.  If not a person, it can be an emotional town with some emotion. Kolkata carries an emotion, Banaras does so. Bengaluru, Old Delhi, Almora, Kasar Devi and Ooty, they all carry emotions. 

“I went to this place”, people say. 

What makes this place. Did you really visit that place? Or you just visited a spot? Red fort is a spot, Old Delhi is a place. Kashi vishwanath temple is a spot, the Dasashwamedh ghat road is a place. You ought to know the difference. And Old Delhi would not certainly strike a thing in your mind or an emotion if you do not know what it stands for. That calls for a study or information about the place. Or any emotion linked with that place. 

I am in my second leg of my travel this year end. I am moving around places I have never been to. Never ever. Not even close. But I know all the roads. I am attached to this “place” and I can feel the attachment when I roam the streets. I can feel the adrenaline rush in me when I can now, finally imagine those things from the 2d maps to real time 3d visuals. Maps tell you a lot but they dont ignite your senses. You cannot smell the environment. You cannot see the expressions of the people. There is a hell lot of excitement in a trip when you are going to a place and not a spot. The excitement of finding out things, the excitement of meeting people you have never met – it does call for a special feeling and this feeling, I call it a place. 

Relate well to every place you’ve been. There are numerous stories behind the place and numerous stories are being made while you are there. Enrich yourself with, if not all, some of the stories. Believe me, your experience on travelling will be way, way more different than it is right now!

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

What if you could make sugar out of your blood? Would you still dissolve and watch it becoming nonexistent infront of you? How does it feel to see something getting lost right in front of you? Like right there. Just there. Yes. Feel nothing? Happy ? sad? Lost?
I today came across a wonderful memory which reminded me of how things have changed over the time. I went to the social media and was surprised to see my sugar had already dissolved in another liquid. It was not to be found. The sugar and the liquid fused together to increase their combined value and the overall sweetness.
I was confused for a second. What should be my reaction? I was the one who put the sugar in the water and also stirred it with spoon so it mixes quickly. Why is there this blankness then. And the sugar is now gone. Forever. Cannot ever have it in the form it was!
This feeling of “never” is very very haunting. You realise it? Never. Ever. It’s that long. It’s such a distance. Now the sugar is gone. Now?
Sit and cry that the sugar is gone. Find an exhaust. Because it was you yourself who wanted the sugar to get dissolved in the water. Sugar couldn’t move. You took it to the glass, mixed and stirred it. Now bear it. Stay with it. Live with this fact.
Next time, before putting sugar in the glass, be sure. Whether you want to keep the sugar or let the water just have it all?

Always Ranting , Rantzaada.

Life is not a lift. I wish it was.

Standing in the front row of the lift, it is usually very easy to hide what you feel, from the people at your back. Concealing without coming pushing yourself back. Hiding and yet staying ahead and still no one knows whats wrong with you. Days like this will always make your life tough. When you have things to do, people to hang out with and there are x number of things that make your life miserable.

Maybe a dream, maybe a conversation or just an object that you see on the road side. You are trying to overcome something and you have an evening where some definite number of things come across your way and remind you those things you are running from. It makes you feel dizzy, heavy hearted and obnoxious. How do you evade such situations when you are in a bunch of people?

I entered the lift after this 10 minutes of trance and I realised, that while I was walking along, the only way I could keep my emotions to myself was to walk behind and no body paid special attention to it. But as soon as I came inside the lift, I stood at the front and no one really found it abnormal. Staying at the rear end of the lift makes your want for solitude public. Same happens when you walk aloof.

It is very difficult to control and express such emotions publicly when the sole reason of your going public or hanging out is to overcome the entire deal you’ve lost. To overcome the emotions you can get trapped into when you are alone. To overcome the trips your mind makes when it has to go through that same thing again and again. When the mind tortures you more than an average human can bear.

In such situations, it is never wise to control and suppress. I have always been of an opinion that if you create impediments in your emotional flow, it is going to hurt you real bad. So bad, that you won’t even realise the damage it will make to your body. Hence, it is very important that you let yourself out. But publicly letting yourself out might not be socially healthy. It can make n number of people questions you – some will seem to care, while others would not. So, it is better to express it out in way, people wont notice. Maybe just sit or walk quietly for sometime, act as if youre on a call, or just say that you want to gaze at the black sky. Wait, don’t say black sky, people usually associate anything black these days with depressed emotions. So, be careful.

 But if, lets suppose there is someone with you whom you can share with, I guess there is nothing better than that. Sharing too depends upon sharing on face or sharing at a distance. If youre habituated to talk to a certain person on phone you will usually find it very difficult to talk on face and vice versa. So, as convenience allows, take an action.

It is important to channelize your emotions rather keeping it in and galvanising yourself to any external stimuli. It might show quick effects, but it will be extremely painful in the longer run. Rest assured, understand this. At no point in your life, will you be free of worry. So, express and stay strong.

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

Somedays all you want is a glance of the history, a peek into the past. We all do feel a little uneasy when it comes to those memories which went off, not in a proper way – without a formal closure. With questions unanswered, with emotions choking in the throat and with a lot of self-doubt, such moments keep haunting you back again and again.

Such snippets are invaluable. They give you brief, but profound happiness. A lot of satisfaction and feeling of closure to the whole lot of unneeded open strings. These act like the vital drugs to an ailing patient.

There are several such snippets in my life which I would have been very eager to express here, but some things are better kept than told. Even expressing about your snippets makes you a little nostalgic about the whole episode.

Right, isn’t it?

Always Ranting,
Rantzaada.

The desperation to be heard? No one’s listening??

Do you ever feel like approaching someone and speaking your heart out to them. There are always a few humans who will be eager to hear you out, come what may. But more often than not, it is not just speaking your things out to someone.
Often, you will want to talk to that one person who is associated with that issue. You will not want to talk to a new person who is eager to hear you and tell them everything from T-zero. That doesn’t work that way. You cannot store food in your suitcase when your hunger needs you to keep it in your stomach.
But then, approaching people these days to help you hear out your pain often ultimately leads to you been labelled a desperate pshycho. Only if people realised that everything related to them has to be handled by them between them. Matters should not be due.
Matters due in such scenarios acts like cancer cells. They spread vehemently, spread through and through, make your resistance power weaker, makes you mentally, socially and physically weak. Such due matters must be listed and surely sorted out before your approach a new life.
How do you approach a person who’s not even remotely interested in such a needed collaboration. Any unwanted trespassing in their mental area will make you carry that guilt for life and you will termed as a technical harasser for life. You don’t want this for sure. What are the other options?
You cannot for sure ask a 3rd person to do the settlement on your part. Never rely on a 3rd person when the issue is between two people. Because that 3rd person has nothing to lose and it’s hazardous to store critical pieces of information with them. So a 3rd party intervention is not desirable. What else?
Use of indirect information propagation systems like social media , web pages, etc. Does that make sense?? You will never know. It is easy and very very easy infact to fool people into the perception that everything is heard while its just been “seen”.
It is difficult. Very difficult. You or I wont be ever able to descrypt the best method. Or even a working method.
Humans are complicated. It’s easier to predict the planetary motions rather than to predict a human. So in case a situation arises, go ahead and talk
If not try conveyimgn messages. Hints. Etc..

Still doesn’t work?? Take it easy.. It will if it has to.
Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

“So, 3 lessons for today – First, keep the strokes in one direction, second color from top to bottom and third, don’t cross the line”, Shankar Sir announced in class.

It was the first class of my art school. It did not look like the typical art school my friends were going into. It was different. It looked like a school – an entire school in itself. It had a staff room, multiple large classrooms and a big aquarium inside. I had never seen a fish this close. It also had a scultpture making studio which had all types of hand  drawn instruments and a large stone wheel on which the artists would work. It was a world I had never seen before.

I was there with a small plastic bag with a sketchbook and a 12-piece oil pastel and a few watercolour cakes I owned already. It was day 1 of my formal training in fine arts. I was nervous. I had been active in drawing competitions since Upper Kindergarten and would force my parents to take me to competitions and events around the town.

I took out my sketchbook. A shining, white and blessed with the smell of art paper, and perfectly bounded – 200 page drawing book. It was a bird that we had to make. A blue bird. I later came to know it is a kingfisher. I did not care either. All I wanted was to make this bird as close to what sir had made on the board and then color it as per sir’s instruction.

I made the intiail sketch, got it approved and moved on to coloring. Oil pastels had been my forte before coming here, so it was not a big issue. It came out well. I went to get it approved.

“It is really good” , Sir, showed my sketchbook to other kids in the class. I felt good. He brought my sketchbook back to his desk. He told,

“Seems, you have good practice on it already. You must improve things from here then. Skip the basics. Focus on improvements. Your color selections are okay, but there is one thing you have to maintain, avoid smudging and maintain the outline.”, he explained this to me very humbly, in a subtle way.

AVOID SMUDGING AND DON’T JUMP THE LINE.

I was too little that time to grasp the meaning of this on a level higher than that of the sketchbook. I had really worked hard back  then to not smudge and maintain the line.

Avoid Smudging, meant to not destroy what has already been done. So, in order to do that, there has to be a pre-existing plan. Or atleast a pattern set in mind. You need to begin doing things from the top and then come down. This would lessen your chances to smudge the things already done above. If you first did the lower part and then moved to the higher ones, chances are you might end up smudging it big time.

Do not destroy whats already been done. Take care. Sometimes, extra care. To make sure things stay in place. Do not run around randomly because that is going to smudge things. A lot. You are going to mix the various beautiful colors in your sketchbook and those same beautiful colors, once go tandem will destroy the wonderful painting you are so tirelessly making.

Sometimes, that will mean taking extra efforts like putting a piece of “clean cloth” on the canvas to ensure you do not touch things already in place. Its difficult to do it. You have to accept the cloth as an instrument – a very active one. Sometimes, while painting, colors are not the only things important. There are subsidiary instruments which give colors the best platform to bring out a beautiful picture.

I wish I had the “clean cloth” with me all this while. I wish we all had this clean cloth. Nothing would ever smudge then.

Jumping the line.

Ah God! This is something I have really worked hard on. I thought I had mastered it , until the canvas became a little larger. Sometimes,  you jump the line not because you   want to, but you are over-enthusiastic and overwhelmed by whawt lies outside the boundary. Or maybe sometimes your crayon doesn’t want to stop. Or maybe sometimes you are just way too lost, to know you are about to jump the line.

But jumping the lines creates an entirely new opportunity too. It can give you access to areas, which had been conventionally denied to you. Where you were suggested to avoid foraying. The taboo. But again, those undisclosed areas give you pain later, because you realise all your other colors are still on the other side of the line. The piece of clean cloth, too lies there on the other side. But this side of the line contains, thrill, excitement, happiness and most importantly something which just sucked you into it. It was not something you were told to enter, it just happened.

Things that just happen, are way too enforcing than things which have been usually planned and executed well. It was not until I would completely annihilate my ambitions that the habit of crossing the line begun.

“Is it done Amit, show your sketchbook?”, Sir came to my seat and asked for my sketchbook.

“Ah, you work well, but there is a lot of smudging still there on your paper. Also, you keep going out of the lines. You will have to work a little bit. Don’t worry. You will make it”

I am still trying not to smudge things – which I keep doing usually and not to cross the lines.  

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

“Are you in a doubt? I guess you must see an expert in your field. Get your doubt cleared.” My professor gave me a number and asked to talk to this lady who had been an expert in Infrastructure development across South Asian countries. I took the card and thanked my professor and came out.

Doubt.

Why do people see doubt as a disease? The moment you start doubting something, people start “diagnosing” you for a problem. A Disorder. Is doubt just another mental disorder? Is it a social enigma? So difficult to explain? To decode? To set a set of rules or an algorithm to decrypt a doubt rather than suppressing it altogether by seeking help from an expert.

I fear conversations with experts. In any field. Experts give you viewpoints which are already established and are working successfully. They believe on the P(success) and P(feasible). These two probabilities are always highly factored in their conversations and are the primary pivot of explanation. Be it any expert. From any field.

Experts lack innovation.

Yes, I say that with some responsibility and historical reference. Innovation and risks have never been taken by experts. Because they have to defend theories and hypotheses which are already in place. Which they have learned and become an expert from. They cannot (so easily) turn their backs to their learnings and seek risk. Innovation.

Skip technicality. Come down to life, emotions, expressions. Does doubt not play an important part in the genesis of an emotion? What did you feel when you tasted sweet for the first time, you were probably not sure of the taste till someone told you it was sweet. And then, hence forever, you liked it. Remember the first time, you saw that person who would henceforth become your partner for life? Was it not a feeling of doubt of how you felt? Falling for, attraction, love at first sight, desperateness, etc? What if you just went to an expert at that particular instance and sought help. Asked  them what that feeling meant. They would have told you to stop, freeze and think about things. BE considerate about decisions and situations.

But then, would you have had those goosebumps and the butterflies on seeing your love? Would you have had those troubling impatient nights, when you waited for that person to come to talk to you or flash a torch on the terrace? No right?

Life is not a machine, which has to run on correct algorithms and programme code. Let there be an ounce on doubt. That is what brings joy, sadness, grief, excitement, etc. These feelings make life, LIFE. 

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

This is a continuation of the previous Rant 137 : The broken door, the link is as below, 
https://the11oclockdiary.home.blog/2019/12/09/rant-137-the-broken-door/

Moving ahead.. 

I pushed the door with a light push and a lot of nervousness. I had to push it upwards while also pushing it in the front direction. Carefully and slowly, the door began to open. It was not until the door was half open, that I realised that the one panel of the door was actually moving independent of the hinge. I stopped. Instantly. The door could collapse with any further force. 

I again started to check the hinge. I realised that while the door opened up more than half, the hinge had not moved a centimeter. I sighed at this, while also felt relieved that I observed this before the door fell. So, here was the major issue. I had been oiling and cleaning the hinge since an hour and a half, while the door was not even completely attached to the hinge. It was just a “deceptive” idea I had developed and I guess all others develop this too. 

I carefully opened the door now and stepped inside the room. It was a small room. mud plastered walls and a small niche – probably for a lamp. Nothing very surprising or out of the world. I moved around in this small room and found a small note on the wall above the door. 

It read, “If you read this, that means you could open the door, and if you could do that, please don’t leave. Stay here”.

It made me emotional, I do not know why. In a moment it felt as if I had a conversation with the door or maybe this small house. It was like an emotional call made to me by this house. I tried to look for other clues as well, but did not really find anything. I sat down on the floor, tired by now. The floor was very comfortable. Like mother’s laps. The room was comfortably warm and I just kept my head on the small bump made on the ground, preferably for a chulha (earthen stove).  It took me less than a minute to fall asleep there. 

I woke up to the licking of a small puppy and the chirps of a few birds inside the house. The house now looked well lit and much cleaner than what I slept with. I came out and looked if someone came and worked it out.Maybe someone was waiting for me to open the door, so this place could be cleaned up again! Who knows. 

I came in, pick up my bag and moved towards the door again. The moment I stepped closer, the door closed. I was taken aback. What just happened! I tried again the same thing. It closed even more. After making 3 attempts, the door finally let me go. I came out and looked at the house. I looked at the note too. “..please don’t leave. It said”. I did not know what all this meant. 

I suddenly saw an old couple coming towards the house, followed by a herd of goats, one dog and few cows. They all came and stalled near the house. The old woman opened the door and went in. Brought water for the old man and herself. Fed water to the cattle and the goats and petted the dog in her lap. Wait, what was happening? where did they come from? And how did she bring water from inside? There was nothing inside. What’s wrong! 

I checked the note again. There was some problem. 

It read, “If you read this, that means you could open the door, and if you could do that, Thank you and you may leave. You deserve much better”.

This. The house. The people. I could not just understand. 

I ran downhill with all the speed I could gather. I ran and ran hard. But everytime I looked back, the house seemed to be  at the same distance. What was it? I ran hard, I fell downhill. I rolled and rolled down. Consecutive rolls. I guess I kept rolling for 3-4 minutes at a very very high speed. I guess I would have rolled for a good 40 meters. I was now sure, I would have come far down. Looked back, same distance. I was petrified. 

I looked at the house, stood still, the house shone like a moon on the hill horizon. It looked so much in joy now. The house wasn’t the same old house with a broken door. It’s inhabitants now returned and now the house is in the full glory of its past. I looked at it with full concentration. 

Suddenly, my eyes opened. I woke up. I looked both ways. I was on the bed. It took me a couple of seconds to realise it was all a dream. Was it a morning dream? Are morning dreams true? I don’t know. I really don’t know. 

I woke up and sat down, but the words on the note, haunted me, 

It read, “If you read this, that means you could open the door, and if you could do that, Thank you and you may leave. You deserve much better”.

But I  felt great at one point of time in the dream. The house that I left wasn’t the same house with broken door anymore. It was returned to its full glory. I woke up and took my toothbrush and slogged to the washroom. Ah, it was cold. Cold like the wet ground below the huge green deodar trees. 

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

Think of it.

You walked 7 km in order to reach there. You are shit tired. Sweating like a river pump. Thirsty. Your feet seems to have swollen in your shoes. You are afraid to take your feet out before your journey is over. Maybe it has got some sores too. You never know. You had been really passionate to be coming to this place. Now that you are right at the doorstep, the only thing that stops you from rushing inside is the greed. The greed to make this moment special. The greed to relax and take a breath so that when the door opens, you experience it in full dimensions. Not a freaking tired old fellow, coughing and gasping for breath.

It is a wonderful imagination. Try thinking and imagining it.

You are amidst a deep wood and filled with deodar trees. Really tall trees, its difficult for the sunlight to reach the ground. The floor is wet and cold and there is this huge door, which by all chances is going to have a creaky sound when it opens up. There are 1000 things you now begin to assume about the door and the other side of it.

Whats inside? Why was it so un-revealing? Secret? Concealing? Crawling? Why do people “guess” 1000 things about it? Why did no one just come here, gently open the door, go inside and let the place explain itself. Why does everyone have to “speculate” so much about this door? Definitely I won’t. I will interact. Let it know I was here. For this.

I went closer to the door. Touched it.

The door inscription said a name. What it was, not sure! I took out my kerchief and wiped the plate. Still not visible. I stepped back and tried again. I could figure out it was maybe the family name. I touched the door. It was cold. As if, it was centuries when anything as warm as a human palm would. It responded. A small old damp leaf fell from the cornice of the door. It felt loved. It is a door and it is meant to let people in. Why would a door not let people in? I kept asking myself.

I kept my hand – finally ready to open the door. One deep breath and I pushed. Pushed with all force. Okay! Wait. I tried again. Did not deter. I was afraid to put in too much effort, lest I damage something. I tried to look at the hinges, because I firmly believe a jammed door is jammed not because it does not want to open up, but because the hinges are jammed. You observe the hinges, how they work, treat them well and then just stand by and see the door opening up to you, letting you in. Everytime.

The hinge looked perfect. Old. Metal. Heavily built. I took out the torch to see further. Though it looked perfect on the outside, between the layers it was jammed. Rust. Probably no one opened or tried to open it for years straight now. I put in some of my hair oil in it and all the other hinges too. Cleaned it up a little. In the mean time, brushed the door around and made it look better. It wasn’t a bad door. Infact it was one of the most normal looking, 7-feet high and elegant door. It looked like it commanded some respect. It wasn’t a great palatial door. But it had a story. A story I was eager to learn about. It was just the perfect door you would want to walk 7 km to reach to and then try and get yourself in a presentable way so that the door lets you in.

After 30 minutes of careful, persevered and cautious oiling and cleaning the door, the door made the first shift. I guess it was also because the timber has swollen up and it is now jamming up with the floor too. Anyways, I sat there. Not forcing too much. I sat there and looked at the route I had taken to come here. It was good. Beautiful. Into the dark. Within the woods. Far far away from where I belong. Somewhere which is quite dreamy for me. The colourful world of bottle green dark trees and lots and lots of bougainvillea. It was a magic land and when I looked back at it, all the tiredness felt like subliming away.

I was waiting for the door to respond and open, with the most gentle push I would make.

I knew the wait would be long, but certainly it was worth waiting for the door that won’t open.

It will be continued in the next part. Keep Reading.

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

It is a continuation of Rant 133 : What if? – 2 . Read it at the below link :
https://the11oclockdiary.home.blog/2019/12/05/rant-133-what-if-2/

Finally, it was time. It was a day and a half since Amit had left and his few things stayed back with me. I know he left them on purpose. I will keep them. I don’t know why. But I just want to keep them. Last night he unfriended me on all social media platforms. But he is way too active so I will keep knowing about him. He will make sure I keep knowing about him. IDIOT!

“Is the courier van there?”, Zaid asked.

“Yes. They are loading. I will leave once they load.”

“Ok. See you.”

My heart was pumping. Out of joy? Out of excitement? Out of remorse for having done that to Amit? For leaving this place – this good job, good city and good environment for that place? OOTY? But I like mountains. Reminds me of home. I like cold weather. I will fare good there and with him, I am sure we will be.

It was a new job in Ooty in Tamil Nadu. Ooty, Zaid told me, was a small town with a quiet environment. It was something like what I had always imagined. We had planned to open  a small café once we had some savings. Life, as I imagined there would be magical. I had told no one here where I was shifting to. Not even Amit. I wanted to step back in my past and resume from where things began to rift. To achieve that, I had to just break off all from the present. Not that I will forget all those ever, but yes, I cannot move on to my future with the present. I was firm. Atleast I  tried to be.

As I was leaving the lift, I saw a note on the column of my parking lot.

“What if, we could try it one more time! WHAT IF?”

It took me into a limbo. Why does he have to do this? Argh. I took out the paper. Kept it in my purse and leave again.

“Bhaiya, chaliye.”, The cab started.

As I left the place, all I could see here was Amit. 2 years of happy togetherness. The bench, the park, the area, the shops, everything was just about him gradually. I took my earpods out and put them on.

Played my favourite list.

Closed my eyes.

The song played.

Johnny Orlando & Mackenzie Ziegler – “What If”.

“No, please keep quiet. It was never about that”, I told.

“Will you even listen to me once, I am trying to explain myself to you!”, he would not stop speaking unless I really intervened.  

“See, look! Here! Its not going to work. Believe me. This is not something I am angry or mad about. It was always there, right? We were always up together on this. That someday, this would come and we both will need to step apart. Didn’t you tell me that you will easily move back when this entire thing will dawn upon me. The day I feel I need to push back. You promised you will be there to leave me safe and we wont crib about it. You said all this, didn’t you?”, I literally blasted all that he had spoken in all these years.

He sat still. Quiet. Stoned quiet.

“Amit, look here. I am speaking to you!”, I moved his head towards my face.

“Yes, but this is tough. I am sorry.”

He said this and picked up his bag and went downstairs.

“Amit, listen.. Amit!! Wait.. Don’t go right now.. Please!”, I ran after him. He went out and closed the door.

“If my staying hurts, I promise you I wont come back. I love you. Bye.” He locked the door from outside. He went down. I could hear his bike starting and going out of the campus.

I felt blank. Suddenly it felt everything came to a standstill with a thud. The security came up and opened the door from outside. He must have told him to. I sat on my bed and then gently lied on it. The ceiling was now the screen and my mind had begun projecting all that happened. I wish I could really tell what I mostly felt. Nevermind.

Neither of us were at fault. I was just a feeble, trying-to-be-strong lady when I met him a couple of years back. We were freshers in the same office and were quite excited to have joined the company. While others kept cribbing, we were both happy with our work and all. I remember the day when we were first pitched in into the same project. I told Ruvi and Manu (the two closest girls I know) about Amit and how he was this uber-excited workaholic. It wasn’t minutes before they suspected I was hitting on him. I instantly rejected this fantasy of theirs. It was a bad idea, though. I was already committed to someone. Doesn’t make sense, though!

It was not long before we really came close and became good friends. We had so much in common – food, thoughts, late nighters, we loved solitude and the best thing he was fun to be around with. His jokes were lame. Within a month or two he confessed that he was falling for me. We both knew this had to be paused. I assured him any help from my side to help him pull back. It was pretty good till then.

On the other hand, my ailing relationship and miscommunication with my boyfriend gave way to a new dark alley wherein me and Amit where together. We both saw light at the other end. We wanted to walk together. We did.

But most of these moments, we would just pull back. Mostly because of me and at time because of him.

People come in our lives. They create ripples – ripples of love, faith and trust and we just subconsciously dance to the curves of those ripples. I seldom realise I was going deep in affection with him. I had begun imagining us two to his stories. Those stories were enchanting and I felt loved and cared in those stories. He surely was a good story teller.

Things became intense when we parted for 3 months while I was off in UK during an on-site. We realised it was difficult and when I came back it was really tough keeping me to myself and not falling in his arms. It was tough.

________

Story continues in Rant 132 : What if? – 2

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

“You are seriously crazy. How do you even maintain your cool knowing we have just a few hours before things close down. Like the semester closes down in less than 12 hours now, you say you have no work and still such carelessness?”, my batch mate questioned.

I know its weird. But I strictly believe that there is a reason to every single thing that happens around you. Not one thing, I repeat, not one thing happens at random. There is a stream of things which lead to a circumstance. A lot of circumstances lead to an event and a lot of events lead to a situation. I or you can be in a completely different situation with the same series of events. Its how people perceive and accept things. Doesn’t make either of us a weaker or a stronger one.

To the friend who asked me why I looked and sounded crazy, well, I did not have an answer. I left it to him to assume, the reason behind the behavior.

It really takes some effort to fake that smile in public. When you take 1 step ahead to make a fake smile, it brings 3 steps back when you are alone next. Every such step of faking it brings you manifolds behind. But people do fake emotions. Not necessary for other people, but mostly to simply avoid unnecessary inquisitions. To let everyone know, everything is OK.

Now the thing that happens with every recreation – it can either be a little too much or a little less than what should have had been originally. So, at times such people can be a little more excited and jolly than usual and someday they can seem to be okay but a little less jolly. Certainly an identifiable trait, but little do people observe so much, so not an issue really.

Taking a separate emotion outside your accommodation when you leave for work daily, is an extremely difficult task. Especially when the two emotions are absolutely opposite and bear a stark contrast.

First of all it is really difficult to decide you’re going to wear that mask. That mask of an emotion which you “think” is close to your real emotions. And there is always that risk of getting caught. Because anyone who knows you enough will easily get what you’re up to. But fortunately for me, people around me aren’t that long enough with me to gauge what I feel and how I express. So it is easy to fake it.

Secondly, every time you fake a smile, the heart loaded with grief within, tells you that you wronged it. Tells you that you preferred what the brain ordered over what the heart needed. You forced it to smile when it was laden with grief. To this the heart does take a revenge. When you are back to the square zero, it creates a torment, which will erase all the fake memories you had in the previous “session” and will re-fill you up with even deeper sorrows and memories that will be enough to give you pain for the other night.

So, it is a struggle. Every time. Every single time.

Lesson? Simple. Not everyone smiling around you is happy. Do not judge. Do not react to their staying happy. Maybe it costs them too much to even smile. So, every emotion deserves to be respected and appreciated. You never really know what is going inside the person and the level of fight the brain and the heart are up to.

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

How do you usually console a person who has broken down right in front of you? Talk to them? Console them by words?

Never do that. NEVER.

When a person breaks down it is usually the limit of the emotional restraint that she or he has reached and could not practice restraint any further. In all these cases, where a person suddenly breaks down, it is imperative to let the things flow out. Do not throng in with stupid questions like “hey, what happened?” , “hey, you okay?” and other similar idiotic questions. Of course she is not okay or he is not okay. Stop “asking” and seeking replies.

When this happens, and happens right infront of you – most of the times, you wont be close enough to that person to go and directly hug. Maybe that person is a complete stranger. The best thing to do in such a situation is to simply go and keep a warm hand on the shoulder or on the head top of that person. It is the most comforting gesture for any person in such a situation. More often than not, the intensity of crying will increase rather than stop, but that’s the whole plan.

It will flow. Flow like a running stream. Keep caressing the head or the shoulder. Keep doing that. Keep moving your palms. Don’t ask. Don’t expect them to analyse their reasons for crying and report their observations to you right there. It’s never going to happen and you are simply going to make a big fool of yourself. And maybe even the person infront of you. Surely, not a desirable situation.

I have witnessed this magic of the warm palm myself. It was a chilly winter morning and we were at the food counter, waiting for our turn. A guy stood right infront of me and he was constantly looking lost. Our eyes got in contact a few times, but every time he would ditch his eyes even deeper. I did not repeat as I felt it made him uncomfortable. I bent down to pick up my kerchief, when I heard him sulking slowly. I bent ahead to look at him. Guys feel shy when another guy looks at him crying. He tried to hide his face again.

I kept my hand on his shoulder and comforted him a little. Within a few seconds, he broke down. His head went deeper and he fell on his knees. I sat beside him and comforted him till he began crying in full swing. After a few minutes of sulking, he raised his head up. Went to the washroom and came back. He thanked me through a visual gesture as he was still vocally choked.

He gave me his card. Maybe he wanted to stay in touch. I texted him back on his number. Eventually  we met one day. He told that he had been fired from his job that day and he was really  not sure how to break this news back home. He was so frustrated at the entire episode and felt sorry for how his parents would react to it. Too much going in his mind, began breaking him down bit by bit. But as males are conditioned since ever, he felt blocked when he wanted to cry. He told me my palm opened up that magic gate and he broke down. He later told me, he initially felt weird but the moment he realised that I would stand there no matter how he broke down.

The trust that some one is there beside you, even if for a temporary moment makes you fall within yourself. And that is very important.

So, have a clean palm. Lol. You never know what where and who will need your help.

Always Ranting, Rantzaada. 

Black.

Black is associated with power, fear, mystery, strength, authority, formality, death, evil, and aggression, authority and rebellion.

This is what we all believe, don’t we? But these are the definitions of the impractical men and women. Those who have assumed black to be the evil and the rest to be the good or non-evil ones at the least. While they assumed certain values for black, they forget black is the ultimate constituent for any “other” color to attain it depth and hue (which effectively is a color or a shade).

You cannot add depth or detail to a thing without black. You cannot possibly “sharpen” or “enrich” a color without the judicious use of black. The whole idea that black stands for the devil is based on the fact that the use of black is supposed to be an art of the perfectionist.

Black is a color of no excuse. It does not allow any mistakes. Perfection is what black seeks and demands.

Apart from all this. Black also has a different dimension which not everyone understands. Black is a blank canvas. Black depicts silence and concentration. Often artists, authors, poets, sports persons etc. seek a space which is devoid of much disturbance and distraction, mostly a silent dark room, with a lamp or a table light, or a sports bunk and a corner. Black gives you a blank canvas to start sketching your imagination.

Imagine yourself standing on a street. Full of cars, traffic, people crossing the streets, a few dogs and a few cows mooing and I ask you to imagine a portrait. Or to make one. You will not be able to. You will not be able to write a poem on something which is there inside your head. What you will instantly do is plug something in your ears and close your eyes and try to think. Why do we close our eyes?

It is because closing our eyes gives us a blank black canvas where we can start sketching our imaginations. Black is the color of genesis. When there was nothing there was black. And when everything will cease to exist, there will be black. When a kid is born the first thing which he is comfortable with is black within the womb. Takes the kid some minutes before it gets accustomed to the light. Light causes pain. Pain to the one who is within a transition. From a dark room to a lighted balcony, from a movie hall to the outside, from womb to world, from happy to grief, all these transitions make light a painful transition.

Black never causes pain. There are only hallucinations and false perceptions that black causes fear and threat and everything else. But the truth is it is not the black you are afraid of, it’s the people, animals or the spirits. Black in itself never creates a moment of anxiety. While Light does. In a phase of transition black supports the most. It allows smooth transition. It helps heal and regrow as required. Stimuli to context. Light has ego. It wont come and manage itself for you.

This was the artistic view. Science too, describes a black object as something which absorbs all color and reflects none. The surface which does not reflect back any wavelength is the “most black”. Try recalling anyone who doesn’t reflect anything and absorbs whatever falls upon him or her? Can you? Isnt that the biggest weakness of humans? That we tend to reflect most of what is happening within us? Only if we were more black and absorb more and reflect less, would we be less vulnerable to cheating and manipulation.

So, if I had a prayer to make today, that would be to make me more black. Even more black. So I absorb more and reflect less. I believe that will be the day, when finally I will control over my emotions and my feelings. When I not blow up infront of people who care less and not act happy infront of those who don’t really matter.

Make me a 100% black.

Always Ranting, Rantzaada. 

Though I hate generalizing or forming opinions about a group or a type of people, but I prefer to keep those things in my mind as a support tool for my personal “future” decision making situations. 

One such observation has been regarding people, who deem it easy and “okay” to completely forget, cut-off their history  and move ahead with their life without looking back. While I write this, many would have judged me for my sheer stupidity while writing it. I believe, people, at will do not wish to cutoff from their past. They will and will do it only when it contains enough trauma and intolerable pain, so much so, that it is indefinitely difficult to carry on with the present and the future. So, I am not judging good or bad about such people and their approach in life. 

But there is one thing that I have realised with such people, is  that they can be tough decision makers and that whatever they deem un-necessary or a mis-fit in their lives, they can simply barge ahead and do a permanent erasing off from their lives. 

Now before you start judging me on how this quality or personality trait is an issue, let me remind you that the world is not just full of victims and so does this category of people. Not all such tough decision makers will be victims. Many will be the ones who will victimise people, exploit and then forget and move on. This is the group of people I am talking about. 

To such a class of people, I strictly recommend anyone (majorly people with a high emotional fragility) not to get too attached. Because one fine day, they will let you know in the most simplest sentences, that they need to chop you off for some XYZ reasons and before you  even take a guess at what happened, it will be over. 

Such people have a few habits, which can be recognised as follows: (these traits again can be for both victim and the bully, so not judging their past, just observations) 

• Not very eager to share their past or history
• Will not usually tell you how you fit into their future life sets 
• Their favorite one liners are, “Let’s see”, “I don’t know”
• They will tell you they do not make promises to anyone
• They will tell you “this is how I treat everyone” even if you really mean a lot to them than the others

There can be n number of reasons, why a person is showing the above traits. Maybe they have faced a dark history, a very terrible experience or maybe just an introvert. But one thing for sure, do not get in too much emotionally with such people. Irrespective of whether they had been a victim themselves or the bully, they will take little time to remove you to the trash bin, before you even realise. 

Now, the difference  will be after the removal. If the individual had been a victim before, he or she will feel bad about your absence and if the individual has been a bully, there are 100% chances they won’t even remember you. But for both the class of people one thing for sure, they won’t look back on you. EVER! 

So look out for such traits. Because it is really a habit for such people to cut and chop off. The worst part is they think that they are really good at it and feel proud of this habit. So be on a look-out in  this deadly crowded world, where every 3rd person you meet seems a promising individual. 

Always Ranting, Rantzaada. 

Of the 24 hours we have in a day in our lives, we have most of woken up hours among people in some form or the other. Maybe in groups while meals, while working, while in a class or maybe just in the house. We are surrounding by one or more people most of the times.

People display emotions and expressions. Some smile, some crib, some show grief, some display resentment and some even cry. Smiling, by the way is the most accepted and welcomed expression, as per my own observation.

“Walk in with a smile”, “Face the panel with a smile”, Have meal with a smile”, etc. Over dosage of this expression creates a social stereotype which leads to people forcefully training themselves to smile in any situation. Result? The pain and the withering within, the frustration and the grief – all keeps locking up within. To an extent that when it explodes it creates shackles and pieces of the person that fall way too far to bring them back.

You will see them everywhere and all the time. Look at your cab driver, the security guard of your office building, the colleague who has just finished his shift and is heading back home and your office HR who is patiently waiting for you to come and punch in so that she can finalise the monthly attendance report and take it to the Head, HR section. Everyone will have that one characteristic smile. It just looks perfect and without an err. The most pleasant smile ever. The most measured and the perfectly loaded smile.

Its difficult to determine the smile is fake or not. After being conscious of this for many days, there is an observation I have made. I would like to share it with everyone so we know how to read between the smiles.

If between any  two closely occurring smiles, the expression wear out, fade out or just cease to exist, you can be approximately sure that those were forced smiles.

Ok. So?

Once you got to know it’s a forced smile? What now? Stop believing that person? Take him/her as a cheat? Or a person who is faking it?

You cannot be judgemental here. Never. Maybe the person infront is just smiling in front of you because he or she is bound to. Maybe the true expression may be a futile exercise and would rather affect you adversely. Or maybe it is a sign that you are not the one with whom the true expressions can be shared. Maybe you have already in past, put down their real expressions and it is to keep you pleased that they are having a fake smile.

There can be 1000 reasons why they fake a smile infront of you. Doesn’t always have to be blamed up on them. The blame can be on anyone –you, me, the society or all of us as a whole!

Now that you have read it, the next time you see a person smile – just notice what happens between the smiles. Check what the expressions are! Do the smiles just fade off into another one or there is clear phase that distinguishes two consecutive smiles.

Also, this is a tip to those who might need to fake a smile someday, it can come down to any one of us. Make sure you do not get that sad gap between your smiles. It is that gap that gets you caught. So do it right, if at all youre doing it and if there is a real need to.

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

“Stop it now, will you?”, she shouted in front of everyone. 

“You are crazy and you are just going to hurt me more. So please shut up and get lost from here. Please”, I was still unable to comprehend what just happened. 

Sometimes, things don’t go the way we plan them to be. 

Sometimes, things go in a direction  you don’t even anticipate.  Life is a nasty place to be in.  You see an apple – a red tasty apple – you love it – you take it in your hands and promise it that you will make sure you enjoy the entire taste. You take a bite and then a second one and then a third one and then you kind of come to the center of the apple. Unaware of what’s coming up you keep taking bites of the apple and then you bite  the seeds and that is the closure. All the previous taste of the apple, the juices that dripped down your lips while you ate is are gone. What is left is  the weird, disgusting and the worst taste. 

The last taste is always the worst. It always begins very nice and sweet and if you are not very careful about the entire episode, it ends bad and bad in a way you are going to have to do cent number of things to come out of that taste. 

2 minutes to eat and 200 minutes to get rid of that taste.

Is there a way out? Few people say look at the positives! Few say, forget and move on! What is your first reaction when you chew down a lemon or an apple seed? Did you think that it is good for your health? Did you think that you got the most nutritious part of the plant? Did you think that probably this was the best experience of the entire deal? NO! WE curse the taste the moment it happens – and then curse it till it stays and even after that we curse it because, just because it happened in the first place! 

Things turn idiotic. Turn drastic. Turn weird. Sometimes, there is an escape. But most of the times, there is none. You have to wait till you get rid of the last taste. Nothing else will help you. I cannot ask you to come and watch over a music concert or join for a movie because you have a bad seed! No that won’t work. Wont wont wont! Period. 

The only way out is to go back to basics. Go back to where it begin. See which of the fuses faltered. What made this happen. Because, you have already eaten and chew the seed. Now the only big help you can do to yourself is to ensure that the things don’t happen to you again. And mind you, this only the person who got blown up can do. 

While I was on my way back, I kept looking at her pictures. In none of the pictures, it felt she would humiliate me this bad some day. 

The phone buzzed.

“Where are you?”, a friend from work asked.

“lost”, I wrote. 

____________________________________________________________________________________________________

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

“So, you climb these steps everyday and visit that rock, really? Everyday?”, I asked hesitatingly.

“Yes, it’s been 4 years now. I started when I had just shifted to Badami.”, Sriramalu replied.

When I met him I had no clue that this simple looking guy, yes, he will probably be the most average looking guys you will ever meet. We had lunch together at the Badami Bus station and then we started for the caves atop the hill. I was about to become a fan in the next 5-10 minutes, of the most average looking guy. This person had been coming atop to a small stone, some 4 feet high and he comes there and sits with it for 5 minutes everyday. 5 minutes precisely. And then returns downhill to his shop. I wondered why.

“Sriramalu, can you tell me the whole story if you are okay with it? I am really eager to know what makes you carry out this extremely dedicated and tough task every single day!”, I was swinging in my fan boy moment.

“See sir, what happened was 4 years back, I had just come here. I used to come here at the top a few times. I used to see people coming here and playing around this rock. They would hit stones on the rock and would say that whoever’s stone rebounded most, their wishes would come true. So people hit it with full force and larger stones. I realised that over a few months, the stone suffered several fractures and bruises. Somehow I developed a feeling for the stone and its bruises. I began coming here everyday in the evening and would sit infront of the stone everyday with an iron rod everyday. Soon, I was famous in the area as a lunatic person who doesn’t allow anyone to hit the stone.”

“Oh God, you did not clarify them, did you? you could have talked to people about it no?”, I interrupted.

“What else could I have done? How would I justify? Whom was I doing this for? The rock? No body would ever understand what I felt for it. There was something strange about that rock that made me think of it like a fellow human. I felt hurt when stones where thrown on it. I would throw some water on the bruises and wipe it off with my angavastram. I know all of this sounds like a lunatic person. Who loves a rock after all?”, he replied.

“Does you family know about it? I mean your wife and your kids?”, I threw another question at him.

“Yes, they know. My wife still hasn’t come to terms with this habbit of mine. She tells me to stop visiting that place now, because we have made one small iron fence around it now. But I don’t know why, I get the urge to visit that place everyday and I cannot just stop it. I had several fights with my wife regarding this and I tried quitting. But I dont know something in this place, that keeps pulling me everytime. Now I come only for 5 minutes, but I make sure I do everyday”, he said as we reached the stone and he put his hands on the stone with ultimate affection.

The stone was just another ordinary 4 feet high rock. Didn’t seem like anything special. Yes, but the treatment which he gave to it made it special. There were fences around it and the place was uber-clean. Apparently some people also thought it to be an idol and they had put vermillion around the rock. This is how a cult is born. This is how you make a God out of nothing. And see what his “God” has done to him. He gets the most special  5 minutes of his day here and believe me, I have seen the love in his eyes he has for this place.

What makes people fall in love with such things, at an extreme a rock? There is nothing the rock might have offered in return, probably it would not even know or show motions to reveal there is life in it. But the smile it brings on this guy’s face and his life forces us to believe the rock is alive. Why would a person stick to such a thing for 4 years, if not this?

“You know what is a mirage Sriramalu?” I aksed.

“No sir”, he replied.

“You have seen water on the roads in summer seasons no? Far away on the road it feels like water but there is no water!”, I tried explaining.

“Oh yes, yes, Mareechike you mean?”, he seemed to have understood it.

“Yea yea! It is called mrigtrishna in hindi. It is called so because the deer thinks that there is water there and keep running and finally dies in the pursuit of finding water. Are you sure, this stone is not a mirage of some kind? Maybe you are looking for something in your life and this rock is just a mirage which tends to promise to give you that. Maybe you will never have it from the rock! Maybe.”, I stopped after saying this.

“Maybe sir. Maybe that can happen. But for me, I don’t think about what the rock may or may not give. I see it to be alive. It talks to me, I tell it what I did through the day and all, it makes me feel better. I just want to keep it safe and happy till I can. I dont know, maybe I am mad, like people say, ” and he laughed.

It was apparent who was mad. It was all but him. Anyone who could see and sense a being and love in a non living object can never be mad. Only those who cannot praise or sense his real affection are mad. We all are mad. 

Maybe it is a mirage for him. But for him, this is an eternal mirage! 

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

“If it has to happen, it will happen”

I saw this written in an advertisement I saw in today’s newspaper. Such an easy going, cute line. Makes you feel like a fool for having killed so many days in pain and whine, so many nights in tears and so much of the happiness that you just let go. All the mental agony and the physical discomfort, the fluctuation of your pulses and those abnormally reflexive fever stints, is every thing that’s happening to you a symbol of your own weakness within? Are you weak enough to accept that it will happen if it has to? Why is it so, so difficult to accept this fact?

Imagine if we all could grasp it! There would be no fears, no apprehensions, no doubts, no spying around, no complaints. We would all, instead, keep living our lives as it flowed. We would live everything else to the eternity or the destiny. Wouldn’t it be a wonderful way to live?

Humans are a competitive specie. Got something in 3 days, target for 2 the next time. We keep trying to manipulate, manouvre and modify our settings and our targets. We keep trying to mould and frame things as per our ease and comfort. I wish we all stopped doing this right now. I wish. 

Did not land at a job position, got rejected from a university program, got dejected in a relationship, had a troubled family life? If it has to happen, it will happen. If you are bound to reach somewhere, you will reach there. If someone is bound to be yours, they will be, even if you stop yourself doing it. Things which are bound to happen, will happen. It is something beyond our control.

But then, we are humans. We believe in carving our own niche. This makes us ambitious. We want to turn the tide to the direction we want. Some of us achieve what they think contrary to their situations. Some do not. But we all try. While taking risks can lead us to amasse joy, a few other amibitions can throw you down into dark trenches of hopelessness and failure from where, it will take days, weeks and maybe months to resurface. But even after we resurface, with multiple scars, we again try.  That is the prime instinct we are painted with.

Out of all the targets I have in my life, this is a new addition – 

To believe in “If it has to happen, it will happen”

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

November winters. South facing balconies. Sweet sunny day. 

I look at the clock. 10:53 am. Breakfast? Missed. Lunch? 97 minutes to go. Argh! I pull on the quilt and take a dive again in the bed. After trying to reorient and fake a day-sleep, I woke up again 6 minutes later at 10:59 am. I see a thin slit between the two leaves of the window. It brought in wonderful bright white sunlight. I rose up. 14 degree Celsius. The weather app said. I reached out to the balcony door and opened the door. 

Wonderful bright white sunlight.

As if it was another level of a matrix. The level of optimism or hopefulness. Like a doorway leading from hell to heaven. The first rays shone bright on my face. My face went into a strange uneasy posture with the sudden flooding of sunlight. Took me a few seconds before I could open my eyes completely. Ah! This was the first time, I was experiencing a proper 2019 winter! Welcome home winters. At the foothills of Himalayas, the winters are a thing! 

I decided to face my back at the sun and sit in the balcony for sometime. Not that I was afraid of the rays, but I just wanted to give myself some time to get acquainted with the bright sunlight and yes, to abstain the sun falling on my face burnt with discomfort, repent and remorse. I sat there. The warmth was pleasant. Reminded me of last year’s winter, when I was a resident of another block which had no balconies. How enthusiastic I was to have breakfast on time and then sit by the guava tree in the morning sun and look at these balconies. I would often end up cursing people who owned rooms with balconies and did not enjoy the morning sun. Little did I know, I was cursing an image of myself from the future. 

Times do change. They change drastically. This winter is different. The most unique one of my life till now infact. A winter of rebirth. A winter of reshuffling. A winter of gluing back yourself again. 

Hooke’s Law, from physics, states that there is a threshold of elasticity, beyond which any force applied, results in a permanent deformation and the object is unable to return to its original state. Applies to all of us. There are changes that push you so much, so much so, that it is nearly impossible to reach to the state from where you begun. Instead we try to match up with what is the closest landing spot and then the fight to reach there begins. It is undoubtedly a tough fight, because you have already lost all your plasticity at the rupture point. Now, it’s a deal you don’t really have a choice to. 

My neck was now heated up and I moved in. Shut the door to half and opened my wardrobe to take out my woolens. I pulled out the handbag that I store all my woolens into. I unzipped it and took the woolens out. Ah, the smell! 

The smell of success and happiness and desires. Memoirs of the good closing winter I had. Trips. Successful projects. New friends. Destinations. Mental peace. Smiles and laughter. It all came out. Every woolen winter wear has tonnes of memories with it. Life then was good. Right infront of me, was a small mirror. I took the mirror in my hands and moved my face towards the light. I looked fine. I mean, had I ever looked different? I don’t feel a change. I feel a bit tired though. It’s a lot of fight settling down yourself mentally. You fight because you don’t want to lose and then you get tired because you don’t want to fight – but you keep fighting because you don’t want to lose.  It is a vicious cycle.

I took out a sweater. Could the sweater talk, I would have asked it, whether it knows what all happened around the handbag they were put into, all these days? There were so many new things in the room and in my mind. There were things that could lighten up the room and some that could lighten up my mind. There were books that I had never planned to buy till the last winter. This room, infact was not there. Must be an alien feeling to these guys, for sure. I took all of them out, put them on the bed properly. As if, exposing them properly to my room. Their room. New Room.

I felt they were asking me what all those new things were, when and where did I get them from? Why am I still holding up to the older things which I promised I would get done away with? I entered into a conversation with them. Conversation.

“Did you go home for your internship as you had been planning to, Amit?” The 6 feet tall dark and warm, muffler asked.

“Umm.. No! I got an internship here in Chandigarh. I mean, not Chandigarh-Chandigarh, but in Panchkula, quite close to it”, I replied to the muffler’s question while I was showing my new books to the Nehru jacket.

“How was it”. the ,muffler asked. 

I was explaining how I bought the books and the course structure.

“How was the internship, Amit?” the muffler shouted this time. It looked serious.

Pindrop silent in the room. I looked at the muffler. Looked back. I looked at the jacket. It looked at the book.

“It was good. Very nice. Enriching.” I replied. 

“But you did not go home, didn’t you? You had promised me you would go home in your summer breaks. How stupid you are!”. The muffler seemed pissed off.

Suddenly, the warm clothes started to open the door and go out in the balcony. Crawling clothes. Warm clothes. Lead by the snaky muffler. They all vanished somewhere in the warm daylight. 

They would have gone to buy enough warmth for the winters. It’s going to be a colder winter this time. I feel. I waited for them to return. Wait. Return. Warmth. Winters. 

“Oye, Amit! Lunch??“, Someone knocked at the door. I came back to senses.  The bag was still unzipped. The balcony door was still half closed. I unzipped the bag. Muffler. I zipped it back again. I buried my face in my palms. Uh! not again!

“Yea, coming. You go, I will join!”, I replied to the friend on the door.

“Okay, come soon!”.

I looked at the clock. 12:43 pm. 110 minutes had passed by. Wasn’t too long though!

Welcome winters. 

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

Assume you are a person, a working professional with an annual salary of, let’s say, 12 lakhs. Take a hypothetical situation where in your work-life balance is pretty stabilised and you have a good family background too – both socially and economically. Also, you have a sound health and good personality that increases your chances of staying on a positive trajectory of your life and career goals. Till now, from what we have assumed you are probably the top cream of today’s youth.

Imagine one day I tell you, you should keep this 1 biscuit daped in paper in your bag for emergency situations. You will laugh at me. If arrogant, you might just hit me in my face for making such a rude joke to you. I mean, why on earth, will you ever be in such a situation where 1 biscuit will be so important to you? Logical right?

Few things, though rare are beyond the normal explanations of logic and calculations. Life can throw weird tantrums at you. It can give you momentary happiness like a King and also throw your face down in the dust to understand what being low really means. We generally set a minimum low for ourselves in our own lives. By that, I mean, the lowest our expectations or realities can get. For example, you with a salary of 12 lpa and a good family background might not even think of a situation where you need to struggle for a square meal of the day. We generally do not make such considerations in our lives.

And when these expectations dip below our minima levels, we become anxious, depressed, stressed and emotionally shattered. it really takes a long time for us to come to terms to what actually happened. We keep assuming that this is probably some dream which will rewind to its real world in some time. But that never happens. Because that is never supposed to happen.

But it does happens. More often than not, we try to overlook it as a lesson. We consider it a mishap and move on. It is like losing a free lesson granted to you by life. Have you not faced a situation where you had probably a lot of money in your wallet but still could not get a cab late night? You had lot of money, you were hungry, but could not get a plate of good food? You had all resources to hire a room for your stay but had to move from lodge to lodge and finally satisfy with waiting on the railway station? Had an experience? Yes – Good! No – Be ready for one, it might just be round the corner.

Such experience confront you to tell you, nothing is low or high, these are just contexts and relative measurements. What you believe to be an affordable somehow livable lifestyle maybe the life long dream for some and what you consider to be very high goals, maybe for someone it is of no use! Nothing in this world should be seen with an eye of disgust. While biking through the road, you come across that beggar near the waste and the stench, do not ignore it like a bad omen. Think about it for a moment. Is there any thing you can do to improve atleast one hour of that person?

I have realised it off late and I really feel guilty about it. In the past two weeks I have given water to a person who was lying on the roadside and arranged a full meal for 2 kids wandering around begging. Not that I did something great, maybe most of us reading this also would have done things better than that. Just that, I realised it very late that it is very horrible to be there. Standing in their shoes for a splitsecond try imagining the world. Do not just woo away thinking they are used to it. No one is used to eating waste food from a dust bin, no one is used to sleeping on the road side after being drunk. Its just that there is no respite.

We are all queens and kings of our own lives. Our offsprings, will mostly be treated like princess and princes. But always, remember that life and destiny are experts in De-throning even the greatest people on earth and we, for them, are no ones! So, let’s adopt modesty in what we have and accept and be grateful to all people around us.

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.