“Where are you these days man? Haven’t heard from you since some time now?”

“Here only Jadav, just a little occupied”, I replied.

“Ok, let’s catch up this weekend at the katori. I will call the others too”, he proposed a weekend plan to my horror.

“Umm, ok, we can see to it”, I replied hesitatingly. From an always ready party planner to a acute excuse maker, I had changed a lot.

There are these weird events in your life which lure you out of your regular rails, take you to a wonderland and then break and dump you somewhere into a lost world.  And then it takes lots and lots of effort from an individual to just locate the track. Coming back to the track and resuming the run is a neck-breaking effort. If after all that effort you come back to the track somehow, which is very very unlikely, you dont tend to be the same as before.

You are then a changed person. For good or bad, for all that experience, you evolve. But you don’t remain the same as before. What changes in you? We have all been through these events, right? What is that one thing that changes?

“Ey, we are leaving. You are coming right?”, Jadav asked.

“Yea, I will leave in a 25 minutes, see you there”. I finally decided to move.

Yea, so, what is that one thing that changes? For me, most of the times, it is the way I perceive people or situations. I mean, I am a person who by far takes a little time to have the first raise of faith in people, but once I do, it’s a full go. That is where, I believe, I go wrong each time. Almost every trouble in my life has come through the same pattern. Every next time, I believe it will be a better and a more judicious decision. But so does the problem at hand.

Everytime I am equipped with finer concoctions of emotional stability and firm and judicious behaviour, I face even mightier problems. They intersect my ways, convince me to derail and take me to a wonderful world of happiness and then desert me there and leave me on my own to come back again, if at all I wish to. Most interestingly, I am always missing on that one weapon which could just bring me in quickly. So basically, none of my concoctions work for this problem at hand and I have to device a new one. That is how we grow, don’t we?

It is infact painful to see how the strongest wall you bent upon for support in your lowest times, is usually the first one to fall on you and it leads you to a time which is even a degree worse than the situation you were in. Difficult to get that last line, right? I will make it simpler.

Assume you are in a situation with difficulty magnitude X. You see a wall – a strong and faithful one, probably offering strong and reliable support. You go and lean and rest. In a mirage of complete comfort and safety and then this wall itself falls on you! Crushes you in and moves on. Now you are in a situation which is of the magnitude X+T, where T is anything ranging from manageable to futile. 

What to do in this case then? Look out for another wall? Or a tree? Or a shade? Maybe! Maybe not! Maybe one should just bring oneself together, manage somehow to gain consciousness of what happened and go back to the nearest okay situation he or she was in. Its like restoring your system to a previous date. Go back to some point familiar in your life. Like, when you were preparing for something or when you were at your friends place and did cooking for a month. Go back. Rewind. Try coming back again.

But take this one thing for granted. Again when you will be on the way, cruising with little difficulties around, you will again see a strong, reliable wall. You will be tempted. The small mind in you will again warn you. But again as always, you will convince your mind, I have the weapons ready from my last encounter, nothing wrong will happen. I am a lot more learned now than the last time. And that is where you will fall for it again.

You will hurt yourself again, repent and remorse. Do not worry. This is life. Go back to the same solution. Things will repeat. Things will happen. But they won’t last for pretty long. Keep your strength alive. Do not give up. Because, somewhere in these journeys you will find your best and most memorable moments. You will find multiple stars that will stick to you.

I did not want to write this actually. I mean this is an experience in everyone’s life. It is useless to write down something like this. But I just wrote it down. Had to move something out of my mind.

“Where are you? We are already here!”, It was Jadav again calling.

“Yea yea just there, give me 5 more minutes!”, I was nearly there at the restaurant. This was going to be tough. Meeting people after like, some 3-4 months, arghh! I so hated it, but it’s ok. Maybe this is where I need to re-structure.

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

“We will first go to the stand-bar and begin our run from there. It will be a run including 110 hurdles – both small and large, easy and difficult ones and then finally there will be a ticket granted to you which will take you to a further round”, the local instructor said.

Amongst my team members were my school batchmates, some friends from college, a few people from the professional linkages and a few real retards that I have met in my life. It was funny to see them there fighting out for a ticket for the super-cool conference. The conference was about inner peace and mindfulness and all the faces I saw there were mostly, I knew, frustrated from their life in some way. Probably that is why my mind gave them a place here. The spot where all this was going to happen involved 3 levels – a bike ride to a extreme high point and a jump from there to a supposedly new place. Multiple hurdles there and then to the penultimate space where the toughest hurdles would be.

It all felt like a full of light and blooms gaming experience.

So there was this place which was like a forest with a few households scattered around. Like a typical Odisha or a Chattisgarh or a Jharkhand tribal village. We were dropped at a location by a bus and were asked to follow the instructor thereafter. He takes us to a cable car sought of thing. We are asked to sit in that. Surprisingly, the cable car, which initially seemed ot be a 4/6 seater could accomodate all of us at a go, with all seating. Okay!

This cable car took us higher along the slope into a misty oblivion. Once there we could not see the starting end. We de-boarded the car, stepped down. We were informed that every step that we took from here, counted as a hurdle.

“This is the part of the puzzle, we call life. Every step henceforth will decide what kind of hurdles you get and  with what intensity. You have options of pairing or making teams and taking similar steps so that you can end up with the similar tasks later in life too,” the instructor who was clad in a black shawl like dress entirely said.

“I looked around for people whom I could team up with. But I checked the size of the tiles we were asked to walk on. We could barely place two people in each. That too very tight. I had no option. A very close friend from school came near me. She told she was working there since a month and she is not a part of these riddles, so she can just cross through anywhere. She is just here to guide.

“What brings you here, Amit? You don’t need to be here. You are already a very happy man! Anyways, if you need anything or want to ask for anything, do call me up and I shall come.I will be around. Forget whatever happened between us, I have flushed off all the hate in me. I will be as good to you as you will be”, she said. In avery plane and monotonous voice.

I looked around and we all began walking. There was no hint of any difference or classification of steps. It all looked the same. We decided we will follow our own instincts and let things come up as they are destined to be. Ofcourse, each one of us wanted to have the easiest hurdles in the next round.. but no one knew. We all were smiling and talking while we did this.

“Excuse me?”, I called the black clothed man.

“I have a doubt , where are we precisely? I mean the location?”, I asked.

He kept looking at me, without answering. Square blunt face.

I kept walking. Suddenly the last step we kept our feet on opened up below. Like Literally crashed into the ground. We landed on a small platform. The place looked like a steel factory. Lots of pipes conveyor belts etc.

“This part of the hurdle, is called destiny. Whatever steps you took in your life, according to that destiny will offer you hurdles and actions that you will have to complete. In life, you made the action, in destiny  your actions will be decided by the rules of the game. It was fair enough. But the problem was everyone in the previous section seemed to have walked on the same and uniform set of tiles. How could we guess who would walk the easier path and who would walk the tougher one.

The first hurdle for me was simple. I was happy. I completed it. Just a normal jump with no big gap. Then there was this jump with double the gap but with rods on the sides to keep you aligned. I wondered about those few people in the group, who did not seem physically fit enough to be doing all this the destiny had to offer. Will they be able to complete all this?

I was thinking all this while the next thing came up. It was a chain jump and was supposed to land on a platform which was higher than the start pad. I made a graphical projection in my mind and it seemed feasible. I was about to touch the chain, when the instructor behind, who in this round, wore a white robe, came ahead and elongated the chain in my hands. As he did this the launch platform suddenly went several feet below. When it begun, I thought it was fair because the length of the chain increased too. But the depth increased manyfolds.

“Why?”, I asked him like a 3-year old kid. “Why me?”

He smiled. Told nothing. Made a gesture which apparently meant go ahead you will do it. I wasn’t much sure. I saw below. It was frightening. I have a fear of height. I saw my friend who was working there sitting with her observation diary. Signalling me to come.

How did she manage to get there. She must have gone through the same right? How often we underestimate people in our lives for the hurdles they are going through. I realised how often I thought my life was the toughest. But they did not even complain. They seemed to have rejoiced the entire process. I thought not to crib on this. The second I thought I wont crib, the magic happened. The chain went back to the original length and so did the platform. 

I looked back at the instructor. Same expression. Same smile. This time, I turned and took a flight, swoooshhhh! There I was. Phew! That was not that tough. I was overreacting at the start point.

The next task was impossible. No! There was no way I could do it. Were were supposed to walk on a 2 inch wide log for 70 m. No way I was doing it. These folks from my past, they were walking on it as if they were into the circus for so long. Was it just me freaking out at these things? Why me?

“Why is it always me, who is whining and complaining?” I asked the man again.

This time his silence frustrated me. His smiling face made me feel angry. I looked at his face again. Wait! he looked exactly like me. Yes, a bald me. Wait, what! What was this? I stared at him.

I looked at the other contestants too. Now it freaked me out. Everyone looked like me. They were not the friends from school. But they all looked like me from different stages of my life. Most of them were happily doing each hurdle which I was constantly complaining about. Suddenly something deep beneath began to thump. Loud thumping noise. As if two metal pieces striking hard against each other.

Thudd! thuddd! Thddddd! 

Suddenly the gears started moving. The chains swung arbitrarily. Both the instructors came there. The one in white and the one in black robe. The one in black shouted back at me. I disillusioned you in the first stage. You were told you took right steps and you kept taking them. That was to increase the pride in you which could be grounded here. The man in the white robe, did not speak a word, he told. That was because, no one can tell what destiny will offer. No one has the right to speak for it.

While he said this. They both jumped into the deep space below. So did all the other people. All forms of me. They all suddenly jumped down and disappeared. I was the only one left. The thumps became louder. The lights turned reddish. I had no  option but to walk on that 2 inch wide log. I started walking. It felt frightening. Suddenly it seemed that years passed and I entered a fog which was white as milk. All of it ended.

There stood a man. I looked carefully. He looked like me, too. I had only one thing to ask.

“Where am I?”

It is all in your mind.

Suddenly the phone rang!

I opened up my eyes. Still frozen. The phone still rung. I took up the call.

“Macha, you are not coming to department? Come quickly. We need to go!”

“Yea! I will be there in 10. Bye.”

I just kept laying there. Is this all, really in my mind? Is it just me who is making it tough for me? Am I the only one bearing all this? Or I am just hyping my problems up? It was a dream I saw right now and hence I just woke up and am writing it fresh to make sure I recollect most of it.

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.  

We, humans are very very judgemental about the cover! Yes we are. The moment you would have read the title, you would have made an image about what the thing would be about. That is absolutely normal.

We all see guys proposing girls around. No? At schools, at colleges, at workplaces? Most of these girls are our sisters, friends, besties or just known faces. We usually laugh out (we is guys + girls both) that Y girl got a proposal from a guy X. Lets suppose the girl refuses. The guy still paces around, keeps harassing. The people in and around the girl laugh out on this saying, “mad lover”, “pshycho ashiq” and what shit! Also, in movies and shows, they show that when a guy does make continuous such efforts and a lot of harassing, the girl finally accepts. That is what our society teaches young guys and girls.

Usually such things disappear into the lines of horizon and do not surface up. But sometimes they do and they do it in an ugly way. I am in habit of checking the ANI Twitter feed regularly in the day. As I refreshed it in the early morning, I read this news,

“25 year old Taekwondo player shot by her coach because she refused his proposal of marriage”

So I propose. You refuse. I harass you. You still refuse. I assume that if you cannot be mine you cannot be anyone else’s too. I shoot you. My mind says, this girl doesn’t have the right to live without you. Shoot the girl! 

No I am not shocked at this news. I did not mention where this happened. Because it is not about a state. It is about the state of mind.

I kept thinking about this for a really long time. What is wrong? Where is it wrong? Who is at the fault? The parents, the society or the culture? patriarchy? media? What makes guys think that a girl needs his stamp to survive? No right to live, if you’re not mine! Who brought this sickness in?

Girls are dying. They are dying everywhere. If you are the one who can sense a girl who will realise most girls on the road, offices or in your classes are more of living corpses. They fear motion, they fear conversation, they fear discussions, they fear talking to a guy lest he falls in love with her and that creates another issue altogether. They fear making new friends, because every other guy is going to create some trouble for her, mostly!

If you know a girl in and out you will know that they are not usually themselves, when they are out. Forget everything, sit with your closest friends or your sister and ask her things she had to ignore and move on just since that morning. Ask her about all those stares and harassments and you will know, how they have learnt to categorise harassments as per their intensities.

This is really sick. The way we are all growing up. I mean, feel this, a guy shot a girl just because she denied marrying him. I mean, it will take you a couple of days to gasp this fact. This is really sickening. I have heard people telling me, lets go to this place, there are lots of girls here, we can do some NSP ( Nain sukh prapti, i.e, Pleasure to the eyes). I mean seriously? This is what we have grown into? are we so naive to be able to differentiate between good or bad?

These small things may seem ignorable to many, but this is where it begins. I believe if every guy has an access to a gun, many more, like really more, girls would be killed just because they put down a proposal or talked with another guy. There is a lot that the family system is also putting in into making males demons than humans. Every minute, males are made to realise that they are superior to the females – in the house, in schools or at workplaces. Everyone – right from your mother (who, ironically is also a female) to your boss at the workplace is at fault.

But there is somewhere we have to start. I dont know where. I will probably never have the solution to this. Its too deep for a person or even a group of people to create a change. So, at a micro level maybe we can just try and change ourselves and explain and encourage and inspire people whom we have access to , to come forward and fill up this huge pit of understanding and equality. Why is it so difficult to understand that female is not the one who is supposed to be subservient? Males and females have to complement each other.

And not just the guys who need to create an understanding. The girls too. The girls today will become the mothers, the professors and the bosses of tomorrow. They need to teach their immediate ecosystem about how this things works best when placed to complement and not subservient. I really dont know where this post has gone from the time it has started. I am really frustrated about this and I am just writing down whatever is running across my grey box. I know reading this entirely as a block wouldn’t make much sense, but I just wanted to convey that I am pissed off at this and that we need to think over this, discuss it more often that we generally do.

Criminals and Bastards shoot the girl. 

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

Vegetative State.

VEGETATIVE STATE.

VEGETATIVE STATE. 

I am repeating this so that you  get the soul of this rant in place. Vegetative state. What is it? vegetative state, in simple terms, means a person who is awake but shows no signs of awareness or consciousness. Where do you see such a person? In hospitals probably and maybe sometimes in residences where patients are kept in-house under supervision.

You ask me, most people around me, I feel, are in a vegetative state. I am repeatedly using the word so that you get the word deep in your head. So that it hits you hard with the intensity I want it to hit you. There was this guy in campus who was walking ahead of me. He kept walking and walking and was at a constant gap from me. Suddenly he kicked a dog at the side of the street and the petty puppy just quacked his way out. A few steps later he casually threw the plastic cover of the chips to his left and stepped inside his hostel. For me he is in a vegetative state.

The other day I saw a couple and their two kids strolling in the market. They were at a kulfi store and the couple had gotten them an ice cream each. Right next to them there was a small kid staring at the two kids with a big scoop of ice cream in their hands. All 3 kids were of the same height so the parents did not really see the third kid coming too close. Kids do not know barriers. It is only us when we condition them to adopt and learn barriers like class, sex, race or caste. Both the kids saw the third kid staring at the ice-cream. They both together put forth their ice-creams towards that kid. The parents saw it and pulled back both the kids together and pushed the third one behind. So much so, the kid fell in a puddle of water across the steps. They asked the shopkeeper to throw that kid away for he was creating a nuisance. The shopkeeper rose up and beat that kid badly before he ran away into oblivion and disappeared. For me, these 3 are in a vegetative state. 

How do the doctors treat a vegetative state patient? You keep the hopes alive in them. Most medico’s suggest that the subject should not be made to realise everytime that something is wrong. He or she is aware of that for all seconds of existence. But a lot of concerns and love has to be shown so that their will to keep alive and stay and trust for life remains strong. Can the same logic work here too? Probably not. Why? 

The subjects I mentioned are not aware that they are in a vegetative state. They believe they are expressing and experiencing all emotions of life a human has. But they are forgetting that they have left past the emotions of giving, the emotion of compassion,  the emotions of empathy. Not just that they dont realise they have forgotten, they also force others to understand the fact that they too, should forget and turn to a vegetative state. Such is the sadness with our species.

But there must be something that can be done, no? Every problem has a solution or atleast opens up a door for solution. Maybe beginning with our self is one probable solution. Maybe there might be others which we can discover. I dont know. Sometimes, I too, feel vegetative. I dont know why! 

“Are you done with the rant?” Pal shouted outside.

“Yea, just done. Coming!”

I will leave this here. For you to think who all are in a vegetative state around you. look out for them and let them know they need to be treated. And, treated at depth. 

Always Ranting,  Rantzaada.

“So, how did it begin, I mean, where did you guys meet? I am sorry, I am asking you this. You tell only if you’re okay with it!”, I asked eagerly with shining eyes.

“Umm, there is no such story to it, Amit. But I will try arranging them in a sequence for you. Okay, so we were schoolmates till the 10th standard and then we parted. We did not even cared who went were. I rarely would have even thought of her, forget missing her. We were happy in our own lives. It was only when I joined the IISc, Bengaluru for a research, that we happened to meet again.“, his phone rang,

“Just a minute Amit, I will take this call”

“Yes sir, sure!”

A couple of minutes later.. 

“Yes, so when we met in college again and  that too in the research department. We were both in the working for the alternative energy systems and believe me a lady working on this little-known topic in the late 90’s had some fan following.”

“Omg sir, there might have been a lot of competition“, I interrupted him again.

“I knew there were a number of eyes fixed on her. I knew she worked a little comfortably around me and believe me, I was not and honestly not thinking of anything with her. There were people dying to talk to her and I would maintain the high school modesty with her. We would even rarely sit for a tea together at the evening canteen. I kept a strict restraint at our relationship. Kept it strictly professional. Only if I could continue for long..“, he stopped. His fixed eyes, searching for something in the horizon of the sky clearly told, he was about to enter the zone of formidable land. I was in no mood of bringing him  there.

“Sir, let’s stop this topic. If mam listen’s to this, she will kick us both out of this house tonight and that too without the yummy pulliogre that’s cooking in the kitchen.“, I tried to loosen down the topic. We both laughed.

Sir sat there in his balcony with his pet near the chair and a Marlboro in his hands. I felt a little guilty for have raised that topic. Everyone in our circle knows Sir’s affection for her. Nobody including Sir, knew where she was now, with whom and all! We have talked so much about her with sir. He says his wife, though she knows pretty much everything, gets a little reserved when her conversation begins, so for her sake he does not speak a word regarding her.

None of us in our generation will probably realise the pain of not seeing or knowing the one we loved truly for 25 years straight. 1994-2019, he had no clues where she was, how she was, even if she was! In an era, when relationships are broken at the tap of a button and still you stalk that one person for years to come, such remembrance is rare.

What happens when you don’t see a person for as long as 25 years? Assuming for someone in our generation, we would probably even forget the sense of the person, leave aside the touch and the presence. Sir, he still remembers her hair fragrance, she loved flowers (well most ladies from Bengaluru that time did) and then she loved having Set dosa and filter coffee from Vidyarthi Bhawan in Basavanagudi. This area was where there affair reached it’s zenith before they parted forever in oblivion.

What made them part? The love? The feeling? or just something else? None of us in the circle have ever been able to figure out what made them part. It’s a story that probably has no ending. But you can still see her in his eyes. When he talks of her. He is 53 now with less than a decade of service and still the romance he carries for her is undisputed.

What happens to your affairs, once you are married? We do keep thinking of this , most of us, don’t we? Nowadays, youth will say, block and moveon. But if you see this man here, his cigarette might get over soon, but his affection for her will never. Not that he does not love his wife, but surely he has some magic in him that keeps both his relations, intact.

Subbu sir. 

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

“Does it hurt?”, Anshika asked.

“Bonehead, obviously it would! Why would he be in pain then?”, Khyati told.

“Guys, can you just stop fighting and help me out here, please”, I pleaded.

“I never knew you were such a cry baby, come on it is just a pimple. Don’t try pulling this out else it will trouble you more and the mark would never go. Just let it be. it will become normal on it’s own”, Anshika said.

“Just that it’s right above your eyes, so it troubles you a little more. Just don’t keep touching it every now and then”, she continued.

Khyati stood there listening to her and mocking me for this. They were surely having a good time mocking me and showing how true a friend they were. Anyways, I asked them to leave if the case was so. My eyes felt heavy and the pimple (she told it was called stye) pricked up my head. I just lay down and tried to sleep.

It was around 6 days since I had this little pimple thing coming up. It had come up once last month too, but it had subsided on its own. Last week, I grew desperate and tried to just get rid of it. I guess that was not to be done. Because within a day or two, it swelled up into a bloat and has become the nightmare I was fearing. Whoever saw this, asked the same thing. Did you mess up with it? How was I supposed to even know, I shouldn’t have!

I have always heard this thing about pimples and wounds. Don’t mess up with it, else it worsens. They say, you leave it on its own, apply some cream or medicine above it. But don’t mess up with it. It has it’s own cycle of getting treated and if you mess it it gets more aggressive and will ruin the game for you.

The human civilisation has been so confused in giving life saving tips. Whereas some areas, they say, go and approach the problem. Get the healing you have to. It is in your hands. Don’t wait for it to heal, Heal it! And then there are these situations when it is said, just leave it. It will heal for itself. What a dichotomy!

While Anshika left, she warned me of dire consequences if I mess up with it anymore! haha! She said if you play around with it, it will get itself fixed for a longer time and will also leave a mark there forever. A mark which you wont be happy carrying around forever. Let is dry out on itself. It will be okay. She said.

I believe her. She is the most mature of all my flatmates. Not by age, but by experience. She has faced a lot of things in her life. She is a warrior in herself and we all admire her for being this brave and we hook up on her like little kids, all the time. You must see the way she gets irritated at the morning dining table. haha!

I went close to the mirror. Ouch! This thing really hurt. I reached my hand close to the eyelids and tried to touch it and feel the bump again.

“You wont listen to me, right? You would never do what I asked you to!”, I heard Anshika shout from behind!

I moved my hand to the head and started combing my hair then. I was caught! My bad! She always does catch all of us red-handed.

“Don’t do it please. Don’t keep touching it. It’s a small pimple and will go all by itself. If you keep tampering with it, it will burst and will take longer to heal and in most probabilities will leave a permanent mark there”, she said while she walked away for the office. 

This was a few years back. I still don’t tamper with what pains me. Most of the issues, I just let them go. Not that I knew of this art always, but now I do.

Let it be. 

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

 

What does making time for self mean?

Solitude?

Locked up in a room?

Self-treat and Self-gratitude?

umm.. not always!

Sometimes self is not a unitary existence. Sometimes, SELF means Someone Extremely Loving and Friendly and then at times you try and make out time for self. Your own self. Your own effing self.

It is a dichotomy that self and SELF are diagrammatically opposite. It is all about understanding how we perceive SELF or self. To realise it’s soul you need to first look inside you. What are you and what consists of you! Are you the one who can spend nights and days alone equally? Are you the one who has never ever thought of someone close when you were having that tea in the cafe. Did you not want someone’s company when you were in the market and suddenly you see a gang of school students cross by. Loose ties, un-tucked shirts, a thousand words written on their shirts. Black,green and red markers. Sweaters tied across their waists. Dont you miss people?

Don’t you miss a company when you see a family of 7 having lunch from home-made food kept in a series of steel and plastic tiffins? Soft, round poori and the golden yellow aloo bhujia and along with it, the dark spicy pickles. Alongwith it, a thermos flask with water. Don’t you feel you also have a group like this back home?

Don’t we miss someone when we sit in a cafe along with your pending presentation on your sleek modern laptop and then suddenly you see that young couple, in the late adolescent, come and hug and sit together and sip the coffee together and talking about all their friends and their studies. All you want to do then is to shut down your laptop and have someone sit next to you and ask you stupid things and crack jokes with you and laugh together.

Dont we miss people around us when you are lying down with fever in your hostel room and consistently waking yourself up to change that wet cloth on your forehead. How convenient it was when there were friends or families around you who came up and sat by your pillow changing that cloth, checking the medicines, showed up to meet you just because you were sick. Does make a difference, doesn’t it?

If nothing of the above happens to you. Its ok. You are the one with the self. You can enjoy yourself and the best way is to keep treating yourself and keep yourself happy. Give yourself the best gifts one could think of. Be good to others but be the BEST to yourself. Get a life!

But, if you have a SELF, you will miss everything above. You will feel everything that’s written above. You might require a self  time “sometimes” but most of the problems that come in your life will get solved by the SELF times. Go ahead and call out friends, families or anyone who you think you have kind of left behind in the mad race for making a life for the self.

Go ahead and call or text someone whom you have really not contacted in a while. Call your parents if you don’t do so regularly. Ask them how they are doing. call your school friends and talk to them. Not a problem, if they dont respond with the same zeal. It’s ok. Hang up and don’t call them up again. Finding your SELF might be a little tedious. But you never know.

Who’s your SELF? Share this with them and let them know you remember them still and that no bounds of time or distance can weaken the bond between you guys!

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

I drove past the traffic signal to evade a pause before it turned red. I was at a 70kmph plus that time. Suddenly a sight caught my attention. A guy, probably in his late 20’s, wearing a pretty decent attire lying down on the side of the street. I drove past him, anyways. That is what we do mostly. But his state and the clear fact that he was not a perennial sufferer caught my attention. I had barely moved some 100m when I decided to turn back the vehicle. I parked closed to him. I could see his eyes half open and he was drooling from the left end of his lips. He wore a tshirt inside and a good branded shirt, a lose one, too lose for that matter. A levis jeans and a good sling bag. Did not look drunk either. I caught him by his hand and it seemed he fell down here just a couple of minutes back. 

He had messed up hair with mud filled in and an inch long beard. His face clearly showed marks of dried tears and swollen eyes. I pulled him aloof and brought him to his senses. I brought my water bottle from my bike and made him drink and sprinkled some on his face. I was eager to know where he belongs to and if he is alright. I asked him his whereabouts, but he wasnt responding. Just looked squared up at the ground. 

“Are you going somewhere?”, I asked. 

“Yea, I need to go back”

“Where?”

“Home!”, he replied. 

“Where do you live?”

“Jabalpur, MP”, he replied. 

“What are you doing here?” 

He did not reply. I wanted to ask again but I did not. 

“You want some help?”, I asked while I picked him up and he tried to stand. 

“No, thanks for the help, I will be fine.”, he replied.

“Are you sure you’re ok to go? Do you want me to drop you somewhere?”, I was still not sure if he was okay. 

He just stood up, skimmed his dress to remove the dirt from him and continued to walk. Shoulders bent, lose attire and a bag hanging to a side. He kept walking along the road, full of powdery mud. I stood there and kept thinking about this guy. I started the bike and went close to him, once again and by gesture asked him if he was okay enough to go all by his own. He replied positively and I turned right with a pray that this guy reaches wherever he wants to safely. After I was well ahead in my way to my office, a strange thought came to my mind. Why did I turn back for this guy? Was it not just because he looked decent enough to not have fallen on the road like that? What could have been the possible reasons for him to fall off there and not care to stand up on his own? What could the situation have been if it was not him but a man with a poor appearance or maybe a beggar? Would I come back for him too? Probably not, I guess! I was a little disappointed at myself to have had such answer for this. 

Another question that hit me on my face was whether the reasons for such people falling off on the road and the homeless people falling off – are they the same? Definitely the change in point of view and the ill effects of falling on the road would be the same for anyone. You, me, this guy or the homeless. But there was something that brought me to this guy and would have not, otherwise brought me to a homeless one. 

I guess, I understand now, anyone who is seen fallen off on the road sides must be helped and atleast put to one side in a respectable position on a high ground and clean surface. No human is supposed to rot in mud or earth or a waste dump. And I will tell you one thing. While I was trying to pick that guy up, I got a glimpse of how a busy road looks and how the speeding vehicles look if you are lying down that way beside a road. The small vehicles too, look like big trailers coming at an immense speed and everytime they cross you, they leave some dust, a gush of fuel-exhaust air and God forbid, sometimes a plastic or a torn paper or any rubbish. I could view  the road from that perspective that day. 

Or if you want to get a perspective of how dangerous it feels, try it once under a guided environment. Sleep on the roadside and see how the vehicles pan fast and furiously! And believe me it’s not a pleasant experience. It instills a  sense of fear, a sense of solitude and isolation. It acts as a screen to all your bad experiences in your life. Makes you feel so so low that even standing up on your own seems useless. You’d better lie there and see what else life’s got to throw at you! 

So the next time, you see someone lying on the road side (not intentionally though) go and pick him/her up and put up to a better place. Give them a glass of water. Tell them it’s going to be okay. Offer them a drop out if they are on a journey somewhere. I have had several moments of goosebumps while I was writing this out. I am sure you will have some too if you happen to experience. 

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

Source of the image: https://imgflip.com/memetemplate/79727551/Lonely-Pablo

I have been off this blog for 2 days. Plan was to seize any more movements of thoughts on the keyboard till I could resist and here I am. The resistance lasted for approximately 50 hours and I could feel the coin in my throat while I forced myself away from writing. Maybe, the eagerness to put to one side my tryst with the blog made me react that way. The reaction, though, was not a fickle or momentary. The thought of pulling the curtain down was quite much in the mind since some time now and November 3rd, brought with it the perfect surge to let it happen. It just felt too special to be carried on. 

Can ending things be as special as beginning them? Yes. Absolutely. But the world of sapiens has derived a faux theory which says, frown when its over. I ask, why? Infact smile when it is over. Go throw yourself a party. Pamper yourself. Spoil the brat within you. I spent some 1500 bucks for lunch on that day when I decided to stop writing anymore blogs. The end to a beautiful journey had to be a one with even more grandeur. Was my blogsite a human, it would have surely been happy at the site of me being happy at the farewell. I was just  trying to challenge the general notions of a farewell on the November 3rd. 

Now, this entire thing about me trying to stop writing the blog and then again coming back, might seem a riddle to many!  Surely, it should. I would have questioned the same had i come across someone doing something similar. I can not think of a reason myself too. If I can explain, it can be similar to someone deciding to end his or her life, setting up the stool, standing on it, setting up the rope and then when the rope first touches your throat, removing it in a jiffy! What makes you do that? The love for life. The love to have  those little pleasures in your life. The little pleasure of the smell of one flower on your table. The wagging tail of a puppy in your cycle stand. The delicious dahi over the papdi chat. The sight of a kid laughing and trying to eat a balloon. Such feelings call you  back. 

It gives you the power to face and fight and not give up. I won’t precisely say I gave up on my blog because it was a well thought decision. Not that the thought behind the decision has changed, but just that, another thought now, tells me to stand firm and face. Do things that your life wants to keep yourself happy and content. It is the  thought of freshness now, the thought of genesis. That was the thought of farewell. Imagine the feeling of bewilderness in an unknown city, wet with sweat, walking on the streets having no idea where to go or what to do, it is that kind of a feeling that I underwent when I did not write the blog. Might feel like I am exaggerating a little, but believe me this is what I constantly felt. 

“So, you’re going to keep it alive till?”, she asked. 

“I don’t know! I mean how can I just promise how long it will go? It was supposed to be a medicine which I have started to like and I am proudly addicted to it now. I don’t really think I need to keep a milestone somewhere for it.”, I replied back to her while walking back from the class. 

“But, isn’t the streak already broken? Have you not stopped once, for 2 days? Will you ever be able to say, have been writing continuously since XXX days now?”, she asked in curiosity again. 

“Agree, but does my pausing once, take back from me the right to bounce back? To bounce back to maybe a better tomorrow? And what if the streak is now broken? It did start from #1 on 23rd July, assume it to be starting at #1 (Read #105) on the 6th of Novemeber 2019!”, I told her. 

“It really doesn’t matter, unless the words keep healing my readers and myself. The day it stops to heal or the day I stop writing it in a good way or I forget writing one fine morning, that day, we can call it a day!”, I continued. 

She quietly held me arms and came a little close while we kept walking towards the cafe. She spoke softly, ” but you broke the streak!”

I put my hands on her shoulder while we entered the cafe. “Dont worry, I will bounce back!” 

Anyone out there who started something sometime back and paused due to some reason, do not hesitate to re-move towards it, resume, rework, relaunch! Life is too short to forget things you love. Keep trying! Life is fair if you try enough.

Always Ranting, Rantzaada! 

This is it.

I need to look forward to more and more learning in life and make myself better so I could speak better and write even better. Emotions might rub off another 1200 words here, hut probably I might be repeating. So , let’s make this quick.

No more rants. No more worrisome links and no more 11 o clock gestures. Peace.

Thanks for the love and regards.

Final ranting, Rantzaada, aka Amit Kumar.

“Hey, hi!”, I said as soon as he opened the door.

“Hey man, come in”, he welcomed me inside. A single room house with a mattress, an open pantry and an attached toilet. Things quite thrown out and a weird smell of a stagnant air space. I went in. Looked for a place to open my shoes.

“Anywhere but the mattress!”, He guided me with a smile.

“You, idiot! Still the same, eh man?”, I replied with a smirk on my face.

“Yea, man”.

“How’s your course going?”, I asked.

” Unn.. ah! Tough call man. Way tougher than what I thought. But I have decided to give in everything this time. Will take 6 months to see visible changes.”

“No problem man, you will do it . We are all sure of and we are already proud at the way you’ve been handling it till now”, I said what I felt for his efforts.

He was into a big time drug abuse with 3 different substance abuse. Busted, thrashed and abducted. Still he could not attempt to come out. Now that his doctor said his life was critical did he decide on his own that this had to end.

He himself chose for a rehab course and enrolled. Everyone knew about this when he was already 3 weeks into it. Everyone who knew him came forward and applauded him for the efforts he took. And he responded well to all those by regular having house hosting. Having friends at home without any drug use.

I asked him how tough it was for him to come over. He told it was a slow and steady down process. First he detached him self with the drug itself. Now he went in a phase of craving. So he would do everything and meet everyone who were related with his drug abuse and resisted the drug. This boosted his confidence that the company was not an issue, his confidence was. He would visit all places he went after a high. He talked to the same people now, with whom he talked when with the drug, it all felt new and different now. Mostly refreshing. But he kept missing. And he kept avoiding.

A week into this, he was quite confident that the memoirs of the drug do not have the power alone to deter him. He could visit the drug peddler, meet with him, have a dinner and still not ask or crave for a drug. This was the control you should be looking at when you wish to practice self control. He told there often were times when he even drank water in the same glass which he used for liquor. Imagine the level of absistence.

I thought only if we followed this in our lives would our capacity to fight changes and things that catch is by our heart would increase multifolds. Apart from running from everything, rather stay. Face. And consciously make s choice not to. That will show if you really put yourself up against it or is it just s temporary show.

At times, when cravings is high, go close to anything that is associated with the cause. Everything, but the cause.  That makes so much sense. Once you can learn how to libe with the environment but not the drug, everything falls in place. Try and feel the confidence.
You don’t move yourself apart from the things you are dearly attached to. You either tear yourself apart or break apart. You are bound to emerge as a different being. Better or otherwise. But you will be a changee being.

“I am really proud to tell it to someone that you’re such a close buddy and I have known you for years.
He smiled. Nodded in affirmative. Went to his table. Opened his drawer. Two pouches of white substance and an injection. Lay there fresh.

I showed an expression of surprise and disappointment and asked him about it.

“I don’t know man, I just keep them here so that I can cheat my mind that I am not going to cheat it. Someday when I will be powerful and above all, I wil be able to throw these things out in the bin and that will, believe me, the end  of it. Once and forever.

I nodded in agreement . I had never seen anyone fight so hard against substance abuse in my personal contacts. He was the first one and my respect for him increased manifolds.
I hope he takes his own time to really come out of all the things. I wish him luck and may we all learn from his story.

If you can share a substance abuse or drinking overdose issue and joined or helped by a rehab. Mention it below in the comments.

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

.

“Should I?”

“Should I not?”

I pulled up the zip of my backpack, took a  sigh and stepped out of the door. At times, when that eerie feeling of uncertainty comes in your way, the only thing which is best to do, is to just keep going. None of us can evade luck. In either forms. None of us can project nor forecast. So it is absolutely ok to accept that eeriness in  your heart and go ahead.  Life will take a turn, the way it likes, beyond your sense of decision making and wit! 

I stood at the railway station for half an hour. Still not sure, what to do. Go or not go. What if I could simply stay back and rest for the weekend. Or maybe do a few things which might be of some use. Is it ok to have actually decided to go for this sudden travel? Thinking and overthinking actually just hurt my brain on a cozy Friday evening. So I decided to step in the railway station towards the ticket counter.

At the ticket counter, I witnessed what was a terrible crowd. Long line on a small station. Again that same question crept in my mind, “Should I?”. But I decided not to think too much and just stand and wait for my turn on the ticket counter. it took precisely 23 minutes before I could get the tickets done. Finally I had a ticket. I was at a place where the same amount of walking could lead me to the exit gate and the equal amount would lead to the platform. I decided to keep going. Finally I was there on the platform waiting for the train to arrive.

Some people like random travels and some do not. I fall in neither of the categories. I can switch to either categories based on the place of interest. I can make an absolutely random plan to a beautiful place, while I might even reject a well laid out plan to a off-mood place. It’s all on the topic, or the venue.

Here the entire confusion was whether it was right or wrong. And this made me anxious. Confused. Irritated. When things are beyond interesting vs boring and fall into the gamut of the wrong or the right, you do get into a vortex of confusions. You do fall into a zone which is difficult to overcome. Anyways, the train had arrived and I entered it, still thinking while I kept the step on the stairs. I put in my feet in the name of my venerable figures and set in.

I looked outside the door – the lights showed green. Who was this green for? the train or for me? I took that green for me. Stupid, it seems. But when you are low, when I am low, I try and look for fictional signs which can make me happy and encourage me to carry on. The train left.

I looked on the platform. I had left a luggage on the platform which I did not mind leaving it there. The baggage of confusion and anxiety. The baggage of the tussle between the yes and the no. The baggage of the good and the bad. Now that you are set to it, just sit back and relax. Let the things come to you as they are “destined” to be. Life will take a turn, the way it likes, beyond your sense of decision making and wit!

“Understood?”, she patiently asked the kids again.

“Yes mam”, they replied in unison. They were abnormally quiet today. No movement whatsoever. Abnormal levels of discipline.

She took her register and the student notebooks in her hand and slowly walked out of her class. She walked across the lobby close to the wall. The peon standing at the principal’s office gazed at her with a sudden unease. He kept gazing at her. She felt uncomfortable. While she went close enough, the peon kept looking.

“Madam, what’s wrong with your leg?”, he asked.

“Oh this! no nothing. Slipped from the stairs, these diwali preparations you know.”, she replied in a jiffy and went inside the principals room to sign the daily biometric. The peon looked up to the idol of mother mary, took a sigh and then sat on his chair again. The office accountant came out and asked him why he looked worried. He pointed towards her. She came out of the principals office and greeted both the peon and the accountant with a big smile.

“How was your diwali sir?”

“Fine miss, how was yours?”, the man in his mid 50’s asked.

“Mine was good too. I am just hoping my vacation mood gets over soon.”, She laughed after she finished. The other two could not. They just gave a smile. She kept her eyes below and walked away from them.

“Such a bright young girl and see her state. She’s barely 30 and look at what her body has already become like. Scars, limps, rashes, cuts.. is this what her parents raised her off for so long? God bless this lady. She is the bravest girl I have seen in some time now”, He looked upto the idol of mother mary too. They both walked away. She continued to walk along the corridor close to the walls.

Nearly everyone in school knew what she went through. It was all clearly visible. But her smiling face and the astounding courage did not allow anyone to directly ask her. 3 marks were clear – one below the left eye, one on her wrist and her limping leg. By  the recess, nearly the entire school knew, Miss Anamika was beaten up again, by her husband. 

This might be a hypothetical plot that I presented to you. But I wanted to create all scenarios what such females go through. I do not want to dig any data here and present numbers, you can all google out the data and see it yourselves. This is also not for the females or the married women out there. No. You all are strong enough to hndle things like this. Just remember, when he crosses the limit, you have every right to cross it a little ahead.  I really don’t think girls should be told what to do anymore. Its time we change the focus.

So all you girls and guys and parents, or anyone who is going to bear kids along in the next 10-20 years. Listen carefully! If we don’t take this urgently now, tomorrow your friend, your sister or maybe your daughter will also be hit this way. She will be abused – infront of society, in person, on the bed and also do remember, chances are high that you won’t know it. Because Indian females have this strange habit of “no, nothing happened!”. You, me and I – we all have to work at it urgently.

The focus has to be instantly changed to the male generations. The present one and the coming one. We all need to counsel and train all male generations who are coming up to be benevolent and respectful towards ladies. Hit them thrice if they hit their sisters once. Punish them if you hear they got involved in eve-teasing at school. Explain it to them clearly – There is no way you are disrespecting a lady and coming out safe”. This understanding has to be instilled.

Sisters, mothers and all females related with growing males, sit with them, make them understand what they might feel like if threatened and abused that way. The key is to talk. Start conversations. At the family level. Let the females of the family take a lead.

For educated males and females out there, visit back your schools, your colleges. Talk about these things. Talk what abuse literally means. I am sure not all guys even know what all an average Indian girl has to go through. Tell them, Start a conversation. This has to become the talk. All males reading  this, we need to realise that this needs to stop. If you have been inconsiderate about it, there is still a day left in October for you to come back. Start the November with a fresh resolution.

Males do not own females. Not your girlfriends, not your sisters, not your wives, nor your old mother. Your sick state of mind does not give you  the free pass to behave however you want with a lady. She is a daughter and a sister and a mother to someone. And even if she is nothing to noone, just an individual, even that does not give you any exploitative rights. So hold on! If you’ve been doing that till now, stop it asap! There is no alternate but to stop.

And for all the girls out there. There is a request! Whenever a guy shows the first sign of emotional or mental or physical abuse, hit him in his crotch right then and  there. Do not wait for the issue to magnify. Retaliate at the first signs. Make it crystal clear – This is not acceptable. 

I agree whatever, I am talking about might seem irrelevant to the girls who regularly go through all this. I mean tens of incidents per day. I know you all have your own defensive mechanisms. But I really want you to know, to retaliate and kick such a person is absolutely ok and that it is  time we all talk about this to our coming generations and make them absolutely clear – This is not acceptable. 

Share your own incidents of retaliation if any. It will surely be an inspiration for other girls too. If you are a guy reading this, make a pledge that we make sure nothing of that sort happens, either by us or around us. Share it with your friends and family members. It’s important to take the first steps to make things better.

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

 

100 days. 100 posts. 100 memories. 100 healing sessions. 100 pains.100 smiles. 100 hopes.100 reflections.100 fears.100 apologies.100 thankyou’s. 100 fears.

23rd July , 2019 was when it begun.

Today, 30th October 2019.

Okay! So the day is here. 100. Never even thought this was on the cards. 20 was a tough number when I began. It was all written to let off my anxiety and negativity through the blog. It did. Indeed. The point of contention now is that whether it should continue. Should I keep writing? Or should I just stop it at this beautiful junction?

Continuing this blog is difficult while not continuing is a bad dream in itself. I am not sure if this has to continue.

I leave it upto tomorrow. Upto the future. Because future knows all. The essentials for writing the blog daily is gone and it’s tougher now.

Let’s see if a 101 is destined for this blog or the 100th is the last number.

Anyone facing any life crises or issues which you want to share with someone can get in touch with me. I will surely j listen out whatever you have to say.

I also want to suggest people who are in deep shit it they can write. It’s a good way too come out of this issues.

Lastly, I want to thank each one of you ego who have ever helped me in making this journey a wonderful one. In hope the blog keeps you engaged and you keep enjoying the posts.

 

Thanks!

See you all tomorrow, if there’s one!

Bye bye.

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

..continuation of Rant 98: Bold floral prints – 1 (https://the11oclockdiary.home.blog/2019/10/28/rant-98-bold-floral-prints-1/)

It takes time to get into the feel of the person. Once that person brings you inside their zone. Like THE ZONE. When you talk and when you begin to understand each other .When eyes are enough to make lengthy conversations. It is really a pleasure to get indulged in such a conversation. Really takes a better grasp of your senses to understand a person this way. I have had experiences and I am fully aware of how to initiate a discussion with a person who wont talk easily.

It was extremely humid an hour ago and now as we were closing in Meerut, it slowly turned cloudy. Outcast situations bring out some weird illumination levels. The light which falls on your face it’s a low lit, subtle and a very mild light. Enough to see someone. I looked at her face. She was half-asleep, with her head on the window pane, and her hair coming down through the forehead beside her noselines. She looked even more beautiful while she closed her eyes. It was really difficult for me to not look at her. She sat there like a shining crystal of light.  I tried not to continue looking, lest I create a scene in the bus.

The bus stopped at a hotel for refreshments. The lady came down and went to the washroom. I  tried to keep my eyes on my phone while she stood up and walked infront of me. I kept looking at my phone till she vanished inside the hotel. Thoughts kept pouring. Why does our mind get into this weird process of trying to understand people who are a little closed on the inside. Why don’t people who can initiate a conversation become the point of interest for our brains? My mind just could not stop thinking about this lady here. Something, was very intriguing about her. Maybe it was the large floral print outfit or the silence on her beautiful face, I don’t really know. But something just tied me to her face.

I saw her coming in and for a splitsecond we had an eye contact. I immediately put my eyes down. She came and sat on her seat. It began raining. Her window could not close completely. So she came to the seat next to mine on the other side of the aisle. I could not longer see her without her noticing. But that feeling of having her by my side at around 1m , was wonderful. Suddenly my eyes went to her feet which apparently came out of her saree. She had a prosthetic leg. I checked for the other one. I could not see it.

I suddenly stopped imagining everything I had been doing till now. I checked her bag. The one she was holding in her hand. It read “Paralympic Association of India” and below that was “Contingent for Wheelchair tennis of India”. While I was still gazing at that bag, the ticket collector came to her. She took out a card and showed. It was probably some kind of bus pass. Suddenly that whole point of beauty and amazement for her changed to respect.

The TT wrote down the number from the bus pass into his ticket book and asked where she has to go. She showed it on a paper. MEERUT. What did that mean? My heart suddenly began thumping.

I kept looking at her from behind  the Ticket collector. My eyes were fixed at her fingers, which she moved in various forms and shapes to convey what she wanted to. I understood now. With every second now, the respect I had for this lady increased. Such a beauty, so calm with a severed limb and loss of speech.

I looked outside the window. I kept thinking. Is  this the reason she is so calm? Was she always this calm or maybe she used to be very talkative before. How would she have lost her voice? Probably an accident? Limb and voice both? Is the eerie silence a component of the post accident shock? I was busy with consistenly thinking all these things. The conductor shouted, “Meerut”.

I saw her rise and collect her bag and her bottle. While she did this, one end of her saaree which she held on her hand, came very close to my face. I could see the floral prints right infront of my eyes. I could smell her. She walked down the bus. While at the gate, she paused and looked at me. Square face. No expressions. I got bumped into myself. I put my eyes down. Felt embarrassing. Maybe I made her uncomfortable too. I felt guilty now.

The bus resumed. I looked outside the window again. The sky. Dark grey. I could see the imprint of her saaree on the clouds. Floral imprints. Suddenly the sound of the bus engine and the other vehicles on the road became blurry. I could just see the cloud, could feel the silence, her severed limb, her eyes and the floral prints.

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

(Not a rant exactly, but I really wanted to write this feeling which I experienced once)

“Delhi jaegi?”

“Haan”, the man replied.

I somehow managed to board  the bus and get a meagre seat at the 6-seater. It was tough. I had 3 bags and now the task was to settle the luggage somewhere. Travelling on the 6-seater is a real pain, literally. I somehow adjusted 2 bags on the top  racks, while one was still left to be settled. There was a fellow passenger sitting just below the racks, he suggested me to keep my bag near his feet below his seat. I thanked him for the benevolent attitude and sat on the seat.

I was sweating and could feel my pulses now finally slowing down. Its no joke to board a bus on the Haridwar-Delhi route in a summer afternoon for a person who sweats like a leaking government water supply pipe. I moved my face as close to the window as possible to get in contact of the 1% air velocity that was present that day.

There were two seats still empty and the driver was in no mood to move the bus till those filled up. Ah, this still bus and the impressive speed of my sweat. People looked at me as if I was a fountain sculpture in a Mughal Garden and I was supposed to stand and sing a song now. I somehow resisted the urge to get angry at the situation. I ignored.

A lady finally came inside the bus. Might have been 22-25 year old. Large round floral color printed saaree. To see a girl of this age in saaree was the first thing that caught my attention. I could not help but look at her saree first. I made sure, me seeing her did not make her uncomfortable.

“Bhaiya, ticket!”, the conductor broke my attention.

“Ya, take this”, I handed over the exact sum of money to him.

“Bhaiya, aage ka koi seat mil jaega kya? Pichhe bahut dikkat hoga mujhe (can I get a seat infront, it will be troublesome for me to sit here)”, I asked.

He asked me to come and sit on the seat behind his. He said it is a non-reserved ladies seat but because an old fellow is sitting there so probably no ladies going to come there and the bus is already filled up. So I could go and sit there. I sprung up in action soon and sat there.

That made me a little comfortable as I shifted to the window seat. But that also made me sit right at diagonal with the lady. I could see her face now without she noticing it. She was sweating too. But she had a strange calmness on her face. A face with absolutely zero expressions. Heard of a square face? Precisely that.

All along the journey she would at times, smile a little, when the breeze hit her face. When she moved the hair across her ears.

Why do some people have such attractive magnetic personalities? Or is it just that we, as humans, are attracted towards mysteries and blankness? We are attracted towards darkness. Towards tunnels. Towards silence. Towards things that we do not conform to easily. I could not help sneaking  on her throughout the journey. That eerie silence on her face just pulled my attention every time I moved my head that side.

There is one big problem, though with people that have such mysterious personalities. You cannot be sure of what they are conveying to you in any form whatsoever.

….contd tomorrow.

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

Rant 99: Bold floral prints – 2 : https://the11oclockdiary.home.blog/2019/10/29/rant-99-bold-floral-prints-2/

What changes after you have written your mind for 96 days continuously and you are still writing it out on the 97th day? Is there a subliminal feeling that the 100th post is approaching? Or is it that you start feeling the fatigue of the writing? What happens? What keeps you writing is a different factor when you are at Day 30, a different factor at 75 and a completely different reason when you are approaching 100. 

I have been asked these questions multiple times. Like most times, when people have asked me questions about the blog, it has been this. But recently someone asked me, how I felt after writing so much and so many posts, one each a day. Do I find myself clearer now? Do I feel my head is a little more sorted out? Do I know myself better? 

There are these misconceptions with writing. That it helps you know yourself and your social values,etc. I would slightly disagree here. This did not help me to “discover” anything, but yes, it did align my thoughts. Most of the things which I felt were dizzy in my mind are now clear. Or atleast on the way to being clear now. Soon will be. 

One major thing that I have now known for sure, is that I do have a grit in me to do things, given that the thing captures me emotionally and socially. To know what makes you work and what makes you sly off is equally important. Because we are all heroes of our own lives and we are the villains too. We create our own stories and we destroy them. We create opportunities and later back off. This is nothing but blasting your own chances of success and happiness. 

Why is it so important to learn what’s going on in the inside of your head? Why is it important to know what you want and what you are going to decide? Let’s face it first. The world pays respect to people who respect themselves and their decisions. If you cannot respect yourself, or save yourself, no one else will. EVER. So get that fact right. Find out what is that thing which kicks you in the right manner in your life. What is that one thing which will push you off the gutter when you fall in. 

For me, this is sorted out now. I now know if I write my head will be in place. Not that things will all be okay and all, but atleast it will be in place to plan and execute steps to counter the pain or to make judicious decisions. Not that it is very difficult but after 96 days, I am kind of sure that if this can sustain me for this long, it can sustain me for any time period henceforth.

I cannot stress more on the fact that we all should know what our exhaust points are. Where they are? Are they accessible to you? Will they be accessible to you at odd moments? Like I also feel light when I travel. But is that option readily available anytime? What if the entire problem is of the availability of time and I cannot travel, so that is not the exhaust. An exhaust is something which is easily available and doesn’t make the exhaust “an issue” itself.

So go right ahead, struggle. Put up a fight. Take up a challenge. See what makes you smile when the times are the toughest. See what boosts you when everyone puts you down. See what gives you that one extra push! You will all find an angel and a hero within. See it! Feel it!

Always Ranting, Rantzaada. 

Do you feel its fun to open a knot, like a comlex knot? Like some 7-8 strings attached together? The very first thing when you see this knot is just cut it and throw it off. I mean it’s way simpler and is practical. But what if you don’t just want to break the knot but break the knot and recover the strings as they are. There is a dual intention. A motive of ownership is present. This motive or the vision is that thing which gives you the power to sit and take that extra effort. 

Is it possible for us to write it down? The processes involved in de-knotting? While you are reading this line, pause and think what would be the first process. How would you start a process of opening the knots when your final motive is to open the knots and retain the strings without any damage. Any!

If I begin writing, I would write it as first sitting down at a calm place with the knots carefully and softly placed in your hands. You have to first check and investigate. For that you need to sit comfortably and calm yourself. Relax yourself. Get yourself prepared for the next 10 minutes or so. Peace.

Then you begin with understanding what went where. Which string went in which direction? Which one string is causing the maximum problem? Identify.

Once identified – you the, try to losen the knots. Losen it. Only once it is lose, it will be clear to you what is happening. Once that is clear, the work is not very big. Losen the knots.  

Next thing is you try to find that one thing, that 1 knot which is clearly the weakest one and can give way to the others too. Atleast that will make a couple of strings free or atleast lose. Find. 

Then slowly begin taking out that string from the knots. Losen, solve. losen , solve. Repeat this. Finally, once by one the knots will keep solving themselves. You just need to keep patience. Patience. 

Finally when all strings are de-knotted, what do you do next? Keep them again together to make sure they knot in again? You carelly try and arrange them in a way they do not entangle again. Secure. 

Simple steps. Right? But still most of us are usually unable to sort out the knots that are in our lives. Ofcourse the process gets even more complicated and the shit goes real, but the process remains the same! Peace, Identify, Losen, Find, Patience and Secure. If you observe carefully, these are the precise steps you need to sort out anything. 

We all have medicines, but we still fall sick. We all have solutions but we still are impatience and disturbed with the questions around us. We alll have people who care for us, but we still feel alone when there are a bunch of problems. What’s wrong? What is that one thing which keeps you from being patient and to realise that there is a solution which  you and me and all of us possess. Why dont we use the same algorithm and simply come out of issues rather than keep punishing ourselves with wierd problems? 

The problem here is, the intent. We are mostly confused whether to open the knot or not. We believe the knot can behave like a pandora’s box and mutliple things will further more complicate our lives. You understand it? Lets suppose 7 strings exist tangled together and cause no real issue to you, apart from the fact that they are tangled. But the moment you open the knots, all the strings become independent. These can be all distinct situations and scenarios which will start affecting your lives in their own petty ways. Maybe its better to just let them be knotted. Avoid the confusion. 

It takes great pain and power, both to move ahead and de-knot things. Free everything, all the strings and you. Secure the ones you want to and then select the most apt string for your purpose. You will be surprised to see how efficient and beautfiul your arrangement becomes. 

It is just about taking that one step to free the knot. 

Share your views on this rant in the comments section below. 

Always Ranting, Rantzaada. 

What does a symbol of heart mean to you?

Love? Affection? Very lovely? You know right there are different versions of “heart colors” that define different feelings? We all know right?

Till recent, a heart emoticon was a pious value for me. Someone sends me a heart emoji, that meant value for me. Either the person was very impressed or moved by my words or my work or anything else that he or she is talking about. I used a heart emoji only when I truly felt moved and when none of the other smileys or emoji’s cannot do justice to the awesomness of the thing. Like you know, A man giving a paubhaiji he is already eating to a person who is staring him. This is an act of love, hence a heart smiley gets its due here. 

But, recently after using a few other apps, I have realised how a “heart” has lost it’s value almost completely! I mean it has literally become zero. Almost everything that is said is being responded with a heart. That is where old school fellows like myself get stuck. What do I get if someone posts a heart emoji to me in response to a post by me? Is it, that my post is good, okay okay or lovely? These three are quite different, right? I hope so. 

We are being nestled towards a generation with limited emotions. As if digital relationships were any less making it complicated, this regularisation of “extreme” emotions is making it go down the gutter. Completely finished. Words like love, I fall for you, crush, you take my heart, Omg I Love you, I cant live without you, etc. are losing it’s value. It would not be an exaggeration to say that our generation is going to the extremes of nearly everything. I thought about it since a week now, and today I realise one probable reason. 

The problem with today’s world is we all want attention. Hence the things with the lower attention value in the spectrum are losing value. Words are losing values, its easier to double tap a button and move on. Pressing a love react on a post doesn’t even always means someone liked it. Just because they are habituated to putting a love react to everything they see, is the reason it’s there. One person even told me she put a double tap on insta everywhere except those she hated. Because not reacting is akin to hating. 

I know ranting about this is like stepping three step back while the whole world runs ahead. But I am really deeply pained by the losing value of the heart. I asked a friend yesterday, you replied back to her with a heart but you rarely know her even, to which he comfortably replied, it just means, I acknowledge the comment she made. Nothing else. I don’t even care who she is or I wont even talk to her in a decade. Leave alone love her. For reasons whatsoever. This negligence is what I talk about. 

So the next time, you are going to write or respond with a “heart” symbol, pause for a second, is there anything else which can be used which perfectly describes that feeling? You will realise there are so many other expressions you can make. But again, that brings me to another golden rule of the social media, give love to get love. You give them hearts, you get hearts in return. Both the profiles look “lit”! 

But life does not make it that easy for you. Love is difficult. It’s not easy. You can give love and not get a cent of it back. You can give love and get it back but you cannot keep it. There are situations. A love and a heart mean a lot. I miss those old days, when a heart symbol was a key hint that you loved someone deeply. I think it’s impossible we are anyhow going to retain the value of a heart again now. 

Humanity has lost such a huge symbol. Degradation of money or currecny is a global topic, no one will ever talk of devaluation of the “heart”. 

Anyways, you continue, it’s anyway a rant! ❤ 

Always Ranting, Rantzaada. 

It was 1996 and we had Gemini circus in our hometown. After much persuasion, my parents agreed to take me to a circus. Elephants and lions were nowhere to be seen. They banned them in the circus, people said. This made me a little sad, but nevertheless we stuck to our seats. After around 45 minutes of seating, an announcer came up in the arena. Shiny clothes. Big smile and loud claps. The show had begun. He announced that the show will begin with the famous performance of Shasha, the Russian joker. I started clapping as loud as I could, because I did not understand a word and everybody else was clapping. I mean, it wouldn’t be easy for a 4 year kid to understand such announcements. 

After some time, a joker entered with a huge round of applause. He performed tricks, jumped around, played with dogs and cats and also stood up on a ball. Big ball. It all seemed so funny. I could see his crimson red smile from far. It was an amazing show to be witnessed by a 4 year kid. The joker brought in several girls who would swing like birds in the sky. Kids like birds. Kids like sky. Kids want to fly. I wanted to fly then too. So, all that was really amazing. 

This is one clear memory I have of the only circus I have seen in my childhood. Somehow after that circus, I could not attend any more and gradually now, the world of circus has gone to a standstill and no more functions at its peak. But somewhere I still want to go and watch a circus. Someday, I will! 

That one circus brought the charm of the joker in me. I always wondered if they always smiled and laughed like that. Because they showed that even when the joker fell from cycle, everyone laughed and so did he. His prime focus was to make people laugh. Whatever required. I understood this when I was a kid. That the joker is supposed to make everyone laugh. Anyone who tried to make anyone laugh, I would and everyone else too, called them a joker. 

Gradually, I started reading and knowing more about a joker. I heard that joker is a villain in some batman movie. I confronted my friend on this issue and said no, joker is a good person. It was somewhere around the 2004-05 period. It was that time when my peers had started their inclinations towards hollywood and I was still stuck with Bollywood movies. In 2009, I happened to watch a movie, which atleast on this issue, and a lot other issues, changed my life forever. Mera Naam Joker, (Raj Kapoor). I had always heard the songs, Jeena yahan Marna yaha, Kehta hai joker sara zamana- aadhi haqiqat aadha fasana, etc. but had never really seen the movie. I heard the movie was a super duper flop at its time and as the audience grew and the times riped, the movie scaled up to a cult status. Definitely. If you haven’t watched this movie, you must absolutely make it a must watch in your list. 

That movie complemented the image of a joker that I had in my mind. It expanded my ideas of a joker, in the same direction what I had seen in the circus. I was sure, now. The joker was not an element of villainy, rather an epitome of sacrifice, selflessness and courage. It takes a huge huge amount of courage to smile. When you’re in pain. When you need to sustain the smile so that others around you keep smiling. To understand that the factors that made you frown are long gone and must not become a reason for other’s sadness. So smile. Keep that fake smile on your face. 

Another important lesson from that movie, anyone, even a simple viewer can extract, is when life gives you the most bitter experiences, do not curse the ones who became an instrument in the coming of the pain. They were just mediums and that they had no role, more than being an instrument in your life. They had to give an ultimate feeling or an emotion to you and help you grow, mature in life. But even after all this happens, never cease to love people. To love and forgive people who have gone past you. Welcome them in your life with graitutde. The gratitude for the event that changed you, for better. For always. 

Being a joker, is not easy, if not tough. For all the nuances, that joker is presented with today, we need to look back and re-watch Mera Naam Joker. To understand the vision of the great actor and his expressions and the smiles he gave to all of us. 

That movie and a joker, will always be close to me. Infact, now I also do have a much awaited Mera Naam Joker doll with me. 🙂 

 

Share your views if you have seen the movie and what does the word joker bring in your mind. 

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

What do you do when you feel down or when you are bogged down by something really frustrating or heartbreaking? I am not talking about the daily fatigues or the frustrations that happen from your office, college or in personal life. But the larger issues. The issues which will act as milestones in your life. Where you can say, okay, that was something that changed me. This happened and  then everything (or maybe something) changed.When you look back at that event and restrospect and introspect. How do you handle such situations? 

If I can count back properly, I might be having some 4-5 such points in my lifetime, when you know, the things before the event and after the event were scales apart. When the event rushed in and created a huge change as to how I saw life. How I interacted with people and how that was to shape my future persona. Beginning from 2008, ‘09, ‘10, ‘16 and ‘19 now, These points have obviously created much of what I am. Hence the importance. These are the events I am talking about. This is how big and important these events are. 

For my situation, I write. I did not realise that until recent when I felt that whenever I was in deep trenches alone the only thing I resorted to was writing. Mostly dark themed and independent writing, without much base and storyline. It might just be a frank and honest (whatever-comes-to-my-mind) writing. Always been that. I remember, back in 2008, I used to write on those rough copy sheets with the cheap blue and red dot pens, that would often just bloat their ink before one particular character or a word. 

From there the writings went a little up to word files. While in college, I really did not allow me to free to do write. I was always keeping myself busy with some or the other things. At times, I would exhaust myself up to a limit that I suffered fatigue. Soon this writing on a wordpad updated to writing a blog. And here I am, 93 days now and hopefully a few days more. Why? Because I am not an author or a seasoned writer. I can write only till I feel something. Feel something missing or something that makes me think about it. Miss it. Hence I rant, not write.  There is a reason this blog exists and time has come to wrap it up, at least that’s what it seems. 🙂 

The best part with words or any form of art for that matter, is that something intangible converts to something tangible. You give birth to an idea. To a thought. You will never know, a common set of phrases from your mind can entirely change thoughts of some 3rd person! You must have felt some extraordinary change by reading some quotes from some people, havent you? What were those quotes unless written down? Thoughts! Just thoughts. Intangible thoughts. Now giving memories and reasons to millions across the globe. 

Keep expressing yourself. Its important to express so that you see your emotions get settled down once you make it tangible. You can think over it, from an “outside” perspective. It’s really magical. 

For people, who fear writing, I will suggest write! Make a blog, its mostly free, start writing posts. It can be anything. Anything that can lighten you up. For me, the sole reason and the intent of writing is probably over. Soon, maybe, these updates will cease to exist, the post count will not increase and maybe the blog will be pulled down. It happens with everything. Everything  we touch, surely dies. (Rant 62: “..Everything you touch surely dies..” , https://the11oclockdiary.home.blog/2019/09/22/rant-62-everything-you-touch-surely-dies/) 

Share your experiences or your ways to combat emptiness. Also do drop a comment if you want to know anything about writing a blog, or how to effectively make a written rant or anything else about this blog.

Always Ranting, Rantzaada. 

“Shut up, I don’t care what you did; you have not done any magic here. That was work what you did and I seriously don’t care.”, She just blasted at me at 2 in the morning.

I stood there. Listening silently. It was a day, rather an evening I’d always desperately want to forget. That was when precisely I broke down, like some 3 times. One in the evening and once when I was told that I haven’t done anything significant and that I was being a burden on the institution. Later, when I went to the bed, I was bogged down again by the sorrow that surged upon me, because I was asked to pack my bags and leave the institution the very next morning. It was insulting and breaking at the least.

Not that I have been a top-class brilliant student all throughout. I have been able to place myself in distinction almost in all levels of education and yes, that is precisely fine for me. I have often managed to get/stay close to the target I have set for me. Neither have I topped any class nor I had a wish to do so, ever. Yes, fine arts was an exception where I “wanted” that top position and I was well ahead of the class but way behind my own targets. Anyways. That explains my student life aka merit.

But what I have always been appreciated for and trusted with was that I was sincere and respectful in almost everything I did. I was the person, whom you can assign something and then forget about it. The habit of finishing a team task, even if everyone deserted and means working alone, I have achieved the targets and made myself happy. Not that I want accolades or promotions , but just that I set a target for myself and try to achieve it at any cost be it individual work or team effort. Not achieving something makes me repent that I did not put my 100% and this kills me more than anything.

My work at this institution was more than what I anticipated myself to perform. I put in extra hours learning whatever I could. I worked sincerely for a month before being merged with the other teams for other tasks. But never ever could anyone raise a finger saying I had been insincere. But this lady said it today, and it surely pushed me way behind emotionally.

I was asked to leave the premises on the prejudiced judgement of an action I had not been indulged in. Nevertheless I was asked to go and seek forgiveness for something I was not at all indulged in. I am not used to such rebukes and it definitely put my morale down. This is certainly how you don’t treat a person who has been sincere in his approach. I sat down outside her accommodation and was hell bent on sitting there itself. I don’t know why I behaved weird. Maybe because I had already been in a bad (read it very very bad) mood that day and then this happens.

I spoke before, that I am not used to such rebukes. Not because there was no one around to rebuke, but because I haven’t given the chance to people to do so. Be it work, personal life, academics, relationships, there are few instances where in I have committed blunders and have not been apologetic to and hence thrashed left and right. Mostly in the school times. But, I am over all that now and I believe I am much more sincere in my work approach than I was before.

But out of the whole episode there was one beautiful lesson that I received. Do not expect benevolence from everyone you’ve been good too. Because it won’t happen. Because it didn’t happen that day too. Not that the lady was ill-mannered or she was abusive, but the problem is between me and her, or between you and a third person, you two are not the only factors that play. There are so many other players who are directly or indirectly linked to both of us. You might not hurt someone thoughts or aspirations or feelings directly but maybe someone somewhere as far as they could be can make a difference in how your actions affect the person.

Circumstances are like a spider’s web. They tangle you into unbelievable circuits. What a person does or how reacts to your and actions might not be just because what you two share between each other. You can entirely and madly be in love with a person but still have to desert him or her and step back. You might be very well and pretty impressed by your employee but maybe there will be reasons you will have to expel him or her from the team. This is how destiny and the world around us work.

So, one thing I realise while I am writing this, is that don’t judge a person directly on the actions they took, unless you know exactly what made them take that decision.  There can be unbelievable circumstances which deserve much more than prejudiced ideas and sightings. So lets, try and watch the scenarios this way. I hope everyday we come across such situations. Do not, I repeat, Do not judge. Try and understand the circumstances. I promise you, your life will be a cent lighter atleast.

Share your experiences of getting mowed down when you’d been expecting an applause. Certainly there might be multiple cases.

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

“Hey, waiting for someone?”, the head asked.

“No, not really”

“Finish up your lunch quick man, we got a call with Andrew at 3”

“Yea, sure!”.

I was in no mood of making haste. But it really looked weird. I mean, there was barely 3 spoons of curry and a half of chapatti left in my plate and one half lemon. I sat there silently at peace. Not that I wouldn’t eat or was in a mood to leave the food. But that half a chapatti really kept me thinking. So many thoughts just poured in when I realised that out of 6 halves only 1 was left. Imagine this. 6 friends, 5 gone, 1 left, wishes to go, but someone makes you stay. Without a reason. Without a cause. Just stay.  I knew the other half of the chapatti would’ve felt the same way.

Would it have been a little more comfortable had the other half stayed with it? I mean a full chapatti? Maybe, maybe not! Because we’re often less close to the one who is closest physically. It is usually the “other one” who is always more appealing. What was the resemblance of this half chapatti? Anything that makes it special? Or is it just an incomplete chapatti?

Think of it this way – the values of a half chapatti might be different for different people. For a person who is at the end of a wholesome dinner, a half chapatti is possibly life a “remain”, while for a person hungry, it’s just a chapatti – not half but “a” chapatti. Our values change tremendously with a little change in whom we are serving ourselves to. For a pet, it’s a full meal, for someone who just needs a half chapatti to have little dry snacks along, it is a perfect requirement.

But for me right now, it is something that can wait. Unless I am done with this lost-in-a-state-of-god-knows-what state. These are moments when, if you want to write down what you are thinking, it’s impossible. Because possibly you are not thinking anything, or maybe thinking about 20000 issues together. It’s like, being a grandmaster of being confused. Being confused about anything, everything and anywhere. Hahah, Grandmaster, that’s some title!

Almost everyone had left the pantry but me. The blinds were up and there was direct sunlight on my feet. The AC was mild and the wooden chair and wooden table and the fresh flower vase just by my side made the perfect setting to sit and think. Think what? God knows! Suddenly, I hear something!

It was the half chapatti. Angry furious and broken (like literally). It asked me straight into my face, “what the hell is stopping you from finishing this meal up? I am really missing everything else and I really am in a spin, because, you bonehead, decide to look around in amazement and confusion and make me stay on your plate. We’ve all got other things to do and I really cannot afford to stay here on the plate for long and only with this curry, aah.. no! Never!

I know the only option I have is to go with the curry now, but never mind, if that’s what taking me home, better be it. But get done with this, NOW! Ah, I miss my people so much and those soft vegetables. I wish I was the one above all the other chapattis. But never mind, take this idiot green tardy curry, put it over me, make a roll and get done with it! Please! I really wish I had wings and I could just swoosh inside your mouth or fly down to the dustbin. Wait, no not the dustbin, I hate decomposing for like 5 days. Better be done with this in your stomach in 15 seconds. Hurry up man, we’ve both got less time.”

I realised I was the bug here. I wrapped it up soon with the curry, made a roll, and ate it. Washed the plate and entered the lift to reach to the 3^rd floor workstation. It was weird thinking how much a half chapatti has to suffer when I sat there confused. I could visualise and think of everything that chapatti would have spoken to me. Imagine how painful it might be to people, to keep them waiting for the most important tasks and feelings. Never keep people in waiting, get done with them. Cross or a tick, do it. Get over it.

I opened the lift, went inside the cabin and sat on my workstation. I was sleepy. I just put my head on the table and closed my eyes.

“Manav? Wake up! Time for your medicines.”, the nurse woke me up. I woke up in shock.

“Who are you?”, I asked, perplexed.

“Oh God, you’ve been dreaming again Manav, aren’t you? Wake up, its your medicine time. You need to have lunch before that. The doctor might be coming anytime now.”

I woke up while she helped me raise slowly. Ouch, those needles, they hurt.

“Hey, any more seizures?”, the doctor asked.

“No, but he’s still hallucinating, I guess he even had one right now. Wakes up shocked as if he doesn’t know his whereabouts”, the nurse replied.

“So, Mr.? Where were you before she woke you up?”

“I was in… office? Maybe? I don’t know… ah, my head…this is so tiring. I don’t know whats happening.”

“Nothing, you had a leave today, so you’re just missing your office, nothing great, relax. Have your food!”, the doc was pleasant enough in saying that.

I could see the food there. But I dared not wait to eat it up soon. I ate it up at a speed which must’ve shocked everyone out there.

What was there on the plates???

Curry, a sweet, dal (lentils) and 2 halves of chapatti.

Always Ranting(but not today), Rantzaada

I happened to read about Epilepsy today and the state it puts a person into. This is not really a rant, but what an epileptic patient goes through every time. Epilepsy, Schizophrenia, Parkinsons, Alzheimer, Charles Bonnet syndrome, etc. cause hallucinations and short term/acute memory loss. Maybe, the readers too will understand a little about how a patient or a person with such a disorder feels.

Please share your feedback on the above. It really means a lot when I receive comments about the writeup – both positive and improvemental. It will be really lovely to have a conversation about this in the comments below so, everyone becomes a little more aware about such disorders. 

“No, no. I am not joking. I would have seriously done that, had my mom not come in miraculously at the right time”, he said.

“Woah, woah! Ok! That’s some sick decision making brother. I mean why would you do that? Burning 40 thousand rupees cash? I mean how sick was that! And by the way, you would have been jailed for burning a national currency. It’s a crime”, I replied.

“I know. But that moment man, I just wanted to do it. Just one matchstick was what it needed. Just one swoosh and boom, the cash would burn. Well, I did realize later how stupid even that 1 thought was”, he said in a lighter tone smiling.

“Yea you bonehead, aunty would have killed you without any warning”. And we both laughed. He left. I started my bike and left for home too.

This thing was making rounds in my head. What can impulsive actions do? Do they just blind you and your knowledge and sense you have accumulated over the last 25 years? It seems so.  I mean why would a guy who, like, barely 5 months back running around for a 24k per month job decide to try out and burn 40k cash in his room? For what sense? I don’t know.

I stopped at the traffic signal. It showed 180 seconds. 3 minutes. But 180 seconds! Even if we take 1 impulsive action for like 6 seconds, (4 s is the average human reaction time+ 2 to execute), one can still take 30 odd reflexive decisions in a short 3 minute time span. Terrible, isn’t it? As I drove back home, this thought centered into my mind deeply. What if we are all poisoned with this tablet of reflexive thoughts and it just needs a small drop of uncertainty and submittal to let the tablet do its work and take over our minds?

I started preparing for dinner once back home and then had it while watching television. I realised what would happen if in  I just threw the remote right into the TV screen. It would shatter to pieces, wont it? Will barely take me 6s to do it! I remember, when I travel by a train over a river bridge, I keep thinking, what would happen if I just throw my phone in the river? Won’t it just go forever? Will I ever be able to retrace it or get it? Might have been possible if it was on land, but over a river? Naah!

I remember there were times when I went to the blog setting sometimes and gazed at the “Delete this website” option! Just imagine. One click and one verification would have taken away this bouquet of thoughts, away! Forever! That’s how impactful the impulsive thoughts are. Is there a way out? Why do we react in an impulsive manner? Is it that our minds look out for the easiest way out? No! All impulsive actions come after a long series of yes-no internal conflicts. Should I- Should I not? Will I – Would I be not? These conflicts create such a huge pressure in the minds that the general “intelligence” to judge the good and the bad, ceases to exist and impulsive actions are taken.

What to do if you ever felt so? What if you’re alone while this came to you? What if there is no one around? What if you’re travelling alone and something of this sort happens to you? What to do under those circumstances? Run? Move as fast as you can? Well, there are better ways.

Adopt  a policy of “No action”. When such thoughts come to your mind, just promise yourself “inaction”. Whatever be the situation. Just stay. Don’t judge the situation as good or bad, or fortunate or unfortunate. Just stay. Stay till the impulse vanishes. The best part about the impulsive thoughts are that they  are short-termed. Extremely short termed. Like some minutes or seconds at times. Just stay them. Do not get bogged down by them. Give yourself some time. Its ok to let other things pass during that phase. Its important that you retain yourself.

So, the next time, I am travelling in a train over a river, I wont question myself but will control any action till the bridge is over. Even I need to learn how to “not-act”. I hope me, you and all of us will come back to it with a pleasant memory someday.Do 

Do share your views on how you control your impulsive thoughts in your mind.

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

Travelogue and vlogs have emerged as the new strike in the tourism industry. Basically you do an experience feedback of the place in a written or a video media mode. It is an honest and a much much better way of placing reviews of a particular place. Especially the ones not heavily visited. Also, it gives a correct portrayal of the way that author or the vlogger saw it. Provides you with a different perspective. And just in case, if you’re planning for a future trip, you know a few pointers of what to see and what not to. What to see is okay, but the fact that you know the “don’t” is a very important aspect. This is a good way of representation of tourist destinations.

But, I got a problem here. If there is a destination, travelogues are easy. What if the destination is in the future, somewhere, undefined! Where you want to reach, but probably you don’t see a way or in the worst condition, it might not be even feasible to reach there ever. But we all have a few destinations like these. How do you write or even look up for such destinations, that do not exist?

I have shared in one of my previous blocks, how badly I wanted to buy a Hero Hawk cycle when I was a kid. Now, riding a hawk is something I have never been able to achieve. Roaming around in the valleys of my local hills on my hawk at a swift speed of approx. 20kmph was what I always dreamt. But I never could. But I can, ofcourse, write a travelogue on it. Of how you should cycle, how you must move, what precautions, what necessary checklist points. Now will that travelogue be reliable? Can you rely on that data and move on? You have to. If you have faith on me. If you believe in me.

If I could tell you an account of how I came across one of the most special moments of my life, how I changed that temporary feeling of excitement into lifelong care and how that changed my whole life. Wont you listen? Wont you love to hear what changed me and my approach to life? Wont you come to different conclusions of the travel experience while you are reading through it?

It will all be a mixture of fun, surprise, sadness and excitement while you read this experience. It will be a matter of time when you realise that all the conclusions that you had imagined of were baseless and that the real conclusion of the imaginary experience is something terrible and untold of. Probably the reason, the destiny did not allow it happen in the first place. Maybe, riding at 20kmph in the valley road on my hawk would have led me to my last ride? Who knows? Do you know? Do I ? NO!

It is a mindchurning thought if you see it this way. Imagine the fiction stories. Are they not travelogues to an imaginary land? All those stories written by the soldiers of the WWII, are they not travelogues of them going back to their homes? All these stories of Alice, are they not travelogues of the author taking himself to the wonderful islands and large majestic mushrooms and the colourful world? What if it was a set of imagination? For me, every fiction is a travelogue. You can create a Vlog too.

And how do you even believe the real ones. Maybe the person really went there, but did not have a feel of it? Maybe they just captured the upper derma of the experience and left the real soul. False travelogue atleast have the much need drama, detail and the imagination inside it.

Because every book of fiction is a faux travelogue and the travel you have there is majestic.

Share your views about the faux travelogues in the comments below.

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

You must have head it multiple times. I need “my space”. This is “my space”. This is “my time”. What is it? Have we ever, any of us, ever tried to delve deeper into  what this actually means. The problem what we see with these two words is that it demands exclusivity, solitude and isolation. So we rarely even think of it as to what it means to. In an urban lingo it just means, get lost (the most common perception of this term). Someday when you do think on this, it will reveal itself infront of you.

Our lives have become so busy that empathy and emotions and the availability of people who could listen to you has disappeared. Nobody actually will understand why and what you’re going through. Then above that there are these stereotyped solutions that are of usually no help and so when you have little or no solution left to your problems, you chose to enter “your space”. So what is it?

It is a space or a zone, where you wont be heckled for the weird things you think, for the absurd silence you wanted or for the weird habit of looking at the stars while it is dead cold outside. You wont be disturbed when you wanted to listen to those 14 classic songs one after the other without being disturbed. It is a zone that does not mandates that weekends be spent outside in a bar or a fancy restaurant with fancy looking human beings with little or no sense of humanity.

The space also gives the freedom to talk to yourself –which will be judged en masse if you even thought of doing outside. You will heckled to death, do not even think of trying that! Talking to yourself, treating yourself in a better way and going that extra edge to make yourself happy is the thing you can do to yourself. These can happen only and only when you are in your own space. Its really important sometimes to sort out issues with yourself. To sort out anything which you have been doing in peer pressure and societal compulsions. To come at agreement and peace with your own thoughts and mind and then move ahead with a better and   a more refined mind.

 But provisions of such spaces are not easy. You will be judged. You will be heckled and laughed at. The biggest problem with this is that the world feels you are alone and trying to get isolated and they try everything to get inside this. Even when you clearly tell, I just want some me time, people try and barge in.

It’s good to enter your personal space. Atleast few times a week. It gives you a good sense of introspection and be a date to yourself. Dating yourself ain’t really a bad option. Both sides, then know each other well and pretty less chances of being fake. So. It’s okay to be in your own zone.

Share what you love to do in your “me time” or “my space” or how difficult it is to get a little amount of time for this in the comment box below.

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

We part. With people, places, animals, memories and so many other things. Parting is like the basic feature of life. If you’ve met something/someone you will have to part. But what happens, when we part? What happens to the memories? Do memories get erased? Do they get suppressed? What are the chances they might spring up again sometime later? Do you talk about this to someone? Have you ever asked someone what happened to their memories?

In life, I believe there are 3 categories of parting – The ice-cream, the rotten potato and the butter.

I mean the categories can be absolutely different for you. For me, to explain it a little easily, I take these three. As a disclaimer to the three, ice-cream for me is a good taste, something which I can have one serve and can move. Not a problem. I am not someone who will crave for two buckets of icecream. I am at peace with a small amount. The rotten potato is something I hate – like really hate. If at all, there is a rotten potato in my mouth, I am going to drop dead my eating there and go and clean my mouth first. I cannot bear a rotten potato. For me to keep eating, I need to clean my mouth first. The 3^rd one is butter. I mean, I can have tons and tons and unlimited supplies of butter and believe me, I will fall dead asleep, get intoxicated on it, but won’t stop eating it. But yea, whenever I do eat  it, because of the health issues, butter these days bring along, I have made it a point to content myself with a slice at one time. But my love never ceases.

Now, lets consider parting situations like the ice-creams. There are people whom you meet, spend time with and a very pleasant time and you know your ends well before you begun. Such interactions happen with a very high enthusiasm and soon damp down and get registered in your memory as (average) good days. I mean you will have a smile whenever you think about it in future, but you will swing in emotions or pain or joy! Its will be a balanced one.

Come down to the rotten potato. There are people with whom you start with a very very high enthusiasm, but at one particular point – something so terrible happens with it that you try and exhausts yourself of the memories as much as possible. You look for alternate ways to clean up the memory. Best way is to have another new memory instead. Create some new ones, for the older one to go. These memories will seldom come to your mind and even if they do, you will  shred them off right inside your mind stating  the bad experiences you had then.

And then comes, the butter relationships. Ah, it hurts even while I write! Such relationships are the ones, where you are freaking confused since the first second. You like the taste, but there are health issues. You like the taste but there are health issues. Okay, maybe one slice. Just on the paratha. After that slice is done, the next one I will just take a little and melt it. Then the third slice I will just eat the frozen butter like a milkybar chocolate. And then knowingly or unknowingly  you end up having way more than what was constrained for you. And then there is someone, something or just your inner conscience that tells you, “come on its done now! Move! You’re going to kills yourself! And then you reply saying you love butter and the conscience says, life is more important. Stop it!

What happens to the emotions in these 3 cases ? When it’s an icecream, sweet memories in your life. When a rotten potato, the memories are so bad, you flush them properly before you move on. So little or no memories whatsoever. But when it comes to the butter ones, it becomes really complicated.

The butter feelings are not the average ones. They cannot be flushed too. I mean, I would, atleast never think of doing that! Such memories have to be prioritized. Because you cannot keep them at the top of your mind, because then you wont be thinking of anything else but the butter. So, you keep the memories in a safe box and keep it inside your heart or the brain (wherever you keep your memories). And then you push it a little down so that the other ones which maybe less important but feasible and “safer”  may come up and make up the surface for you. But the best part with these butter boxes of memory are that at some isolated points or times, you can bring them up. Live with the memories for a while. Because the taste for it will never ever subside. You will never ever forget the smoothness of the butter when it touches your tongue or the lips. Its difficult to forget it. Its difficult to forget the way a slab of butter melts in your palms and cover it entirely.

Butter memories are the ones which come to stay. They might be supposed to push it down at times, sometimes to the lowest levels possible to make room for the present ones. But When they do come up in solitude or in times of peace, its just those memories and you. Because no one can ever be as soft and as tough as a butter.

So you don’t ever forget the butter memories. If someone says they could forget the butter memories, give them my contact details and ask them to talk to me, I would love to learn the technique from them. And as far as the other two categories are concerned, one just stays quietly without any disturbance at some corner of your mind, and the rotten memories are present in either feeble amounts or not at all. So doesn’t really need a care for!

Try thinking of how you can relate the 3 categories to your favorite food items and tell me in the comments below. You can comment as an anonymous guest without any registration required. Looking forward to your feedback and comments. Share this article with people who love food. They will relate it on an entirely different scale, a scale which only foodies will understand!

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

Things that burn you give you the biggest boost.

The darkest moments of your lives give way to the most beautiful dawns.

Such general lines, we’ve been listening since I don’t even remember when. When youre all okay, in a good mood. When you are in those good days of your life these lines are just another lines with little or no significance.

Step into darkness. When you are stressed. When things are not going the way you wanted them to go. When your each day passes as a strife to be, just be! somehow! When nothing that made you happy can make you feel better in those times.

I have been a counselor since quite some time now. Mostly academic but yea, I have dealt with multiple cases where academic distress was a direct consequence of mental pressure or peer stress. In all those cases, it has been a common observation that most people disagree with the basic facts of life. They turn down the propositions that could make them happy. Like celebrating a birthday, or going out with friends. Now the reasons can be endless, but my point is all these ideal motivational quotes really do not matter once you are deep into the shit.

What to do, then, if you find someone who feels like he or she needs company when in distress?? Because, the moment you ask them for what happened, the first and the last reply would be, “nothing!” In such a situation the only intelligent thing to do, keep that person engaged. Either you or an activity. Seek their help in some academic or professional issue which is her area of expertise. Or just go and talk to her about your own issues and how you think she can help you solve it.

Any form of interaction with such a person, should not and MUST NOT remind her that there is some issue with them. Because they know it much better than you. They are just waiting for that one thing which will help them ease out in a manner which will be the least painful and quick.

So don’t try the clichéd steps of “tell me what’s wrong”, “its all in your head”,” life is beautiful”, etc ,etc. It is not a crime but believe me in today’s world, where millions of quotes are available on a finger step, this might not be a good idea. Its way better to engage that person with you or anyone else who can handle. They can react, resist, get irritated. Keep perseverance. Your efforts will finally make them smile.

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

This morning I woke up with a strange feeling. A feeling of emptiness. As if everything in my  mind was erased. I even took a second to locate my glass of water. Happens sometimes. Most of our us have lived our lives this way. Setting targets  -achieving them, if yes happy, if not, a little down for a few days. And such ‘down’ ness can bring out some similar mornings.

Ah! How badly we’ve all been taught to set-prioritize-achieve. I only wish we could’ve had some gaps of free times where one just lives through. I see so many friends and colleagues who have just let their lives take them their way. I believe its better that way. Your sense of acceptance increases manifold that way. With me, it has always been search-set-prioritize-achieve. So there is always a constant tussle between minds.

I have clear memories since Class 5^th, when Algebra came in. I remember, the focus was always to be a step ahead of what was taught in class. STEP AHEAD. So that the class problems, that the teacher gave in class could be solved in a jiffy. I do not know why that competitive feeling arose, but I remember standing and solving the questions so I could reach her table in the fastest time possible. 😀 Hahah..  what simple times.

When we approached to 7^th and 8^th sections, the load of Olympiads and Science exhibitions came in. We were told such events and certificates gave an extra edge to the personality. Ok! Done and dusted. Multiple events, competitions, functions, seminars, etc. Life was still on an edge.

Come 9^th standard, we were told the language subjects are going to be tough now and science and mathematics cruel. Challenge. Again tried to stay head on and a step ahead than class. Competition. Constant running. Run run run! 9^th was over and the pressure of the 10^th board mounted over. Prior-completion of syllabus and constant revision was the pressure. Life took a turn. We were young and our hearts warming up! Life turns upside down with friendships turn to crushes, crushes turn to relations and relations turn to bitter memories. Drop! Leave! Move ahead!

2 months to the boards and a 16 year old teenager with a broken heart, with only mathematics and science in a comfortable position and deadly situations in English and Hindi in the pre-board examinations. I knew nothing external will help. Sit-Search-set-prioritize-achieve. Did that. Boards were over. Life set ? – not yet! All false promises of “after 10^th, life would be set” flanged down infront of my eyes, once the first week of April was over.

Senior Secondary Classes brought in thicker books, longer syllabi and lonelier classes. The dark shadows of the missing lady in the school still haunted me. Its been the same place, same benches, same water tap, same ground. How else could I have felt. 2 months went straight – I don’t remember much. Behaved much like a motor human. Few friends pulled me back. The summer vacations helped me revive. Completed mathematics in the vacations. 11^th was a tough phase. Still went on. Did not stop. Ran, fell, hurt, crawled, collapsed. But did not stop. Thanks to all  those people who kept pushing. Life was fun at school. The council seats, lots of extra-curricular, good reputation at school, sport, fine arts, theatre. Everything was perfectly fine. Come 12^th. Problems mounted up again. Entrances and boards, both surged above the head. Two  different approaches. Two different ages. Focus. Sit and prioritize. Work. Life will be set if 12^th was good. I believed.

The problem is, whenever you want to be more tough, life takes a punitive action and mixes some more trouble in the game. Trouble plug-ins! And in such critical situations, your heart is the first thing to let go! Fell again. Critical times. Deflection. Attention. Deflection. Attention. Cease it! Did that. In the constant tussle of mind and heart, the scores depleted, efforts increased. Number of hours surge and the number of marks came down. Mock tests showed a decline  from 148 marks to (-5), whereas the study hours increased from 1-1.5 to 7 hours. And no there was no lack of attention or effort. But something magical worked to inhibit my efforts. The first time when I encountered what “depressed state” looks like. Solitude. Dark. Silence.

Similar fight for the boards as 10^th. 2 months back, completely broke mentally and academically, I sat down. Sit-Search-set-prioritize-achieve. I have heard people say, there were not much worried and tensed when they were in the 12^th. I wonder how! However I set a target score, worked for it and nearly achieved it. Schooling done and dusted. Satisfied ? Yes! Learnt? Yes, that life doesn’t dance to your tunes, you keep changing steps as per its tunes. The only rule is to keep dancing.

Entrance scores? Bad! Terrible! The decline was still on the way. I took a decision to try for one more year. Delhi. South Delhi. Crowd. Rush. Tension. Money. Expense. Pollution. Cramped up life. Accepted. Worked hard for a year. People came in and moved back. Problems came here. And when the lowest phased comes, you fall – I was about to! But controlled this time. 😀

Did not stop. Ran, fell, hurt, crawled, collapsed. But did not stop. Missed the prime but scored quite well everywhere else. Chose a not-so-conventional branch. The one that appealed to me. Thought college would be fun. Came in. Work. Work – lots of work. Not that I did not make memories. Those are pretty good 5 years of my life. Did not stop. Ran, ran as fast. The urge to make an impeccable mark in university – not academically. Worked hard in multiple college events, clubs, societies, etc. By the 3^rd year, rose to leadership positions. Some pet projects – intense ones too, kept me busy.

Then job. It was a good non-taxing life of 15 months. The first time, I had time for myself. Lots and lots of time. Developed new hobbies, learnt cooking, learnt how to handle a home all by myself. Developed a character that has to last for long. Developed virtues. Interests. Then the rush for PG again begun.

The point why I am telling all this is that we do think that after a particular milestone, life will become comfortable. We will be settled. We will be happier. No that never happens. You can only be happy now. In the present. There is no time other than present where you can be happy. If you’re happy now, you will be happy forever and you’ve been happy all till now. Its simple though hard to practice.

I really feel amused to hear from people around how their lives have not been a run most of the times, how they have comfortably flown in like a paper boat in a muddy pool. Seems strange. But one thing, its okay to have traveled a road the tougher way. I believe. I am not a very successful or a brilliant mind to look at, there are people with a lot of even more struggles and intelligence out there. But just that, this was mine.

Still sometimes, I gaze back my memories and feel how weak we have become as adults. The 16 year old me and the 18 year old me would be laughing their asses off looking at what I am now. I thought we ought to become more sensible as we grow up. Doesn’t seem so. But I firmly believe we can. We all can.

Do not stop. Run, fall,  get hurt, crawl, collapse. Sit-Search-set-prioritize-achieve. Do not stop.

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

While I am writing this, the blog today, has reached its 2000+ views mark. A mark I’d never thought when I wrote the first one on 23^rd July 2019. That I would be writing a #84 was a dream way way beyond perception. I remember someone told me, If you can upload around 5 blogs per month and write about a 1000 words per blog, it will be considered a genuine writing habit.

Down to the 84^th day, I have written around 76,000 words with a per month average of around 25,000 words, effectively 850 words per day. I had a few people tell me that they were impressed by the consistency I had in writing. I appreciate their feedback. Means a lot. But anything less than something extraordinary would not make such commitment work.

People often ask me, what keeps you going? They did so one more time, when I wrote Rant 30: The Gee that keeps me writing (https://the11oclockdiary.home.blog/2019/08/21/rant-30-the-gee-that-keeps-me-writing/). This post seemed to satisfy the questions raised then. That was 30. Today its 84 and there are more questions on why and how am I so consistent in writing and do I practice same consistency in other areas of my life as well?

No.

Certainly not!

This blog started as an effective exhaust to my anxieties and myself not getting enough “appropriate” people to share my thoughts. I would rather keep things to myself lest make a mockery amongst all. So initially it was a DIY for stress relief. Worked. Almost!

Initially there were a lot of feedbacks. Mostly about how the rant read and how they felt my writing was about the effort I was putting in. They were inspiring. Slowly the views and the readership declined. Declined to an extent that only  4 regular readers saw it daily with a few daily guests. It was a little disappointing given that on day 1, I had a staggering 186 views, which had gone down to 2-6 views.

But gradually I began getting much serious feedback. Of how someone was extremely gloomy and tired of something and how the blog helped that 1 person. Consequently almost everyday, I started getting 1 or 2 feedback’s about how wonderful they thought the blog was and how similar their own thought process was.

Exclamations like – “your blog has become a mirror I see myself in every night”, “how do you write what’s going on in my head the whole day?”, “I thought I needed a counselor to visit, but I guess your blogs are enough”, and many more. Every rant ended with a hope that someone somewhere in need will read this and will be helped or at least will believe that there is someone else also who thinks the same and that thought is not the worst. It can be fought. It can be terminated. The positive can be brought out. This hope kept me writing daily.

Also, the Gee, ah! How can I not mention the GEE here (Read Rant 30, Link shared above to know who is GEE). GEE is the reason it all began, and still I can sit down to type because she keeps an eye. Big shiny white eyes. Though I never thought the ranting will keep going on and on. I wish this daily motivation to write never ceases to appear within.

Many readers asked if this would work for them too! I mean,  writing a blog. Well, honestly I don’t know. Maybe you can achieve an exhaust by reading, painting or just sky-gazing. Maybe you have excellent friends around you with whom you can just roam around or maybe have a close one whose hugs and conversations will just do the trick for you. But for those who love writing, ofcourse. I am a person who hasn’t read a lot. I have barely 6-7 english and around 11-12 hindi novels in the list of books I have read. I guess that is pretty less for a normal reader these days. But yes, I love writing. So, for me the easiest form of an exhaust was writing.

And about how long will this continue?

Well , I really do not have an idea. I will keep writing till I feel like. I don’t believe in setting milestones for exhausts and things that come from within.  But yes, if every blogpiece reaches one person who really needs to read it, I will keep writing till I don’t know when!

I again thank everyone who has been a part of this wonderful journey. I promise to bring out the most honest and unedited rants that come to my fingers while I type. I haven’t edited or scripted any rant till now and I will make sure the element of spontaneity remains in it till it lasts. Do share the blog with people who you feel need it. Nothing can be more satisfying than helping a person daily. The viewership actually does not matter. There have been days with 0 views so, definitely this blog is not the one looking for “lots of” viewership.

May my heart keep writing and may the blogs keep healing hearts and bringing smiles.

Cheers to everyone and cheers to Gee ( She ain’t around on my table anymore but somewhere, afterall she was made of rubber and she wont decay for long 😀 )

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

I was sneaky. I moved in carefully. There were stains of blood everywhere. On the refrigerator, on the dining. My home had turned into a bloodshed cabin and it will be so until I fought my way out. My family was already slain and I was supposed to somehow come out of the house. As I was about to enter the courtyard, I saw a gun point towards me, I tried moving back, but alas! I couldn’t! I was shot, again.

Ah! This game. Dammit! I was stuck at this point. I would lose 3 lives precisely by the time I came in from my bedroom to the courtyard. Everytime. I again RESTARTED the game. I again began consciously. Same result. Frustrated I did not restart but closed the game and went out.

CLOSED THE GAME AND LEFT. DID NOT RESTART.

14 years hence.

I am in a room, somewhere far far far from my room. Where I miss my mom’s food and my dad’s “When will you come back?”. I am far away from my friend’s call at 4 pm to play cricket and the 5 am morning calls in the summer vacations. I miss all those. But they belonged to a phase. Even now there is a particular phase and every phase has to be given equal respect and joy.

But somehow at this juncture of life, you know, like somewhere in the 25-35, the mind is slowly giving way to more weird and juncture less thoughts. It has become easier to drool and become gloomy than to be happy for a long time. Life has taken turns wherein, you don’t know what’s up the next time. It is like that fearful game. You keep waiting for the shot, expecting it wont hit you and it does. But here, you cannot revive. Cannot restart the game. It is a one shot game. You get it, you’re done, you don’t, move on!

This phase of life is tough. Real tough. You are young and expected to deal with almost all problems yourself. But the decisions are not supposed to be taken all by yourself, you’re way too young for that. Solve the problem on your own and follow the decisions by someone else? Weird! Life.

I keep thinking of the events that have changed my life upside down and think what could’ve been the result or the consequences had those events not taken place. Or maybe taken place later or earlier?

You know, like choosing a particular college for your undergraduate studies. Say, that one extra guess you marked in your entrance exam which went right – +3 marks. Did it not change the way you took your life ahead? What if that +3 turned to a -1? A net loss of 4 marks and maybe you might have ended up in a completely different college or a completely different trade of study. How does that makes a difference? You might have fell in love with a different human, you might have ended up doing different type of drinks. You might have had different food preferences or hatelists. You might have had a different hairstyles and maybe different voice tones. Possible, no?

One small internship application. To a particular institution can change your life altogether. Lets assume you did not make that application to the given institution. Maybe you really lost out on something very very valuable. Or maybe you actually went closer to something very exciting.

The whole point is, Life in all its forms brings open different gates for us at every level. We chose one of those gates and then those gates open a plethora of other gates. The one which we missed or left, has to be forgotten and the ones we chose have to be accepted. Every thing that comes in your life, either comes for success or a lesson. So do not repent. Do not say, “I wish this did not happen”, or “I wish I stopped before I stepped inside this”. Maybe your smile last evening or the book that you got published last month and which made you freaking famous, was a result of that step!

Welcome life in all the pro’s and con’s that if comes with. Do not repent. Do not tell people who came in your journey, that you’d wished you did not meet them or how much you wish you’d meet them. What has happened yesterday has paved way for your today and the way you accept your today is going to pave your way to the future.

YOU CANNOT CLOSE THE GAME & THERE IS NO RESTART BUTTON.

So accept whatever came along with a smile or even a tear, no worries! But accept. Do not repent. It hurts you and everyone you’d been associated with.

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

Sleeper class window seats!
The only destination you want to end up while you’re travelling in a train in India.
Today was a lucky day for travel. Side lower seat, cool breeze, full moon and clear skies. What else would a lone traveller ask for. Sit on the seat and keep looking outside the whole time. It won’t even matter who else is inside, why the kid next to you is blabbering and crying and why that old man is fighting for replacing his luggage with someone else’s. No worries. Just you and your window.

Sleeper windows are like the beaches. They have high introspective virtues. They make you introspect to such high degrees that at times it leaves you boostes with inspiration while at others it will sink your heart down to the lowest levels. Windows give you the visuals of the outside. Train windows gives you the stories.
Among numerous stories are the stories of the woman in the fields, men working on rails, rhe passing parallel rails, the speeding trees etc. One such story which mostly goes un noticed is the story of the overhead electric lines.

On either sides of the rail system, there are poles with two (2) high potential wires which electrify the train. (I am not sure of any further technical details so that can be pardoned off). I watched them for nearly 40 minutes post dusk and what I observed was an interesting observation.

There are these two wires hanging between two fixed poles. These wires would seem static and uninteresting when you see them in a stationary motion, but will move in a very periodical motion if observed from a moving train. At the pole, they are the farthest. Because they have a support. It’s ok to be a little away. But as the midpoint approaches or when they are the farthest from their support point’s, they are the closest. Close because of self weight. Because they feel the pull not towards each other, but because their self weight brings them down. And that makes them closer and then as the distance again decreases they again part.
When you see this in motion this looks like a unstable loge story. Support (distant) – no support (close) and repeat. Note that they are not attracted to each other.
Doesn’t the same thing happen with so many of us. When we are fulfilled with our relations we are at a distance with a few people and then when the distance with the support maximizes we tend to come closest to a particular person. Seems like it’s the closeness between the two. One of them might actually fall into the trap of being closer. And then they part again. Towards their respective support poles.

When I observed for a good 40 minutes straight, I realised, how easy it is to identify patterns and check the realities of life. But the problem is I can see the pattern and can make a judgement. But the wires themselves cannot. They are the one running. Running with time. Running in unison. Hoping that sometime they will actually meet and close in at one point. Maybe they are also in the misconception that ” whatever happens, happens for good!”.

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

Suppose there is a room. A big one.
Let’s say, 80 feet by 80 feet. A huge hall, infact.

Lets say all the 6 interior faces of the room are painted blue. And right in the center of the room a single leaf door frame is kept. And there are you on one side and your loved one (lets say, or a friend) on the other side.

A door basically takes you from an inside to the outside or vice versa. In this case above, who is on the outside and who is on the inside? Can you guess?

You will instantly reply back saying there has to be a frame of reference. With every thing painted blue, there is nothing which suggest us where is the inside and where is the outside.

Without a frame of reference, its difficult to determine the right or wrong , the yin and the Yang , the black and the white, any contrasting feature in that case.
If we can related this to two people, how do we make sure who is wrong or who is right? What if the person on the other side is coming towards you? For him your side will be outside and if you are planning to go towards him on the other side that will be the outside for you. So, if there is a door in between two people and you tend to be going in opposite directions, both are bound to be thinking in opposite frames and hence conflicting ideas. What seems good for you will seem bad for the other one.

Is that not what happens? When you are walking in the same direction, everything the other one says or does seems so perfect and ” so meant for you”.But that same person and the same actions starts to worry you, hurts your ego and kills you every now and then.

What’s the solution? Set a frame of reference. In everything. You have to be clear – where , what, when, how, who! Else you’re just going to a rolling ball moving around the hall not knowing where life is going.

Imagine 2 soccer teams with the same jersey playing in a absolutely symmetrical empty stadium. There will always be chaos. So much so that the players will lose focus on the game and put much stress on keeping things in line. When situation degrades, one must quit the game and wait till it settlles down.

When you’re in affection with something or someone and you don’t know where it’s heading or what’s the end goal like, step out. Asap. Step out and think. Think what’s going wrong if something is wrong. Settle for a fix. Still seems feasible? Enter the grass. Doesn’t ? Bid a good bye and,

Move on. (It is difficult to move on , but at times its the only best way out).

Always Ranting ,Rantzaada.

“Hey, Listen to me once! Please!”, she cried in desperation.

He still hung up the call. It was too much for him, she said.

“So, now what?” I asked her. It was an hour since she sat in front of me and narrated all that happened in the last two days. She had gotten along with him in quite a short time and reached a zenith of feelings which is usually unheard of. Whatever she told me, seemed to be like a story of the stars. I kept asking her, are you sure you guys were into it? Was it not just affection or seminal attraction that brought you two together and she kept denying.

I was really confused by this time. I asked her one last time, “Why does he want to leave?”

“I am not sure, he says he cannot continue and that it is better for both of us that we part”

It was really confusing. Here was a girl who was my friend for the 21 years and was sitting infront of me telling how she broke down in love in the past 11 months. She was an upfront and a disciplined lady, who meant business most of the time. An excellent student, a brilliant basketball player and a wonderful mural-artist! She made mandala-sketches famous in our class way before Instagram made way for it. I had always known her as a no-nonsense hardcore medical aspirant. I’d never ever thought there would be a day when she will be sitting infront of me after sulking for weeks straight.

I went inside my small kitchen and got her a cup of cold coffee. I am not a big fan of cold coffee so I brought a cup of hot coffee for myself. I gave her the coffee which she readily held. She always loved cold coffee. I asked her whether she wants to go out in the nearby park for a walk. She refused.

“I just want to talk this shit out to you. I don’t know if this will make me any lighter but surely I will feel a little assured as someone else knows this too.”

“Yea no problem”, I replied back in assurance.

“What should I do now?”, she asked while she took the first sip of her coffee.

 I stood up, with the coffee in my hand, towards the window.

“Move on”, I said.

“you know what you’re saying?”, She replied in haste, “I have come here for you to help me solve this issue and you’re suggesting me to move on. How, do you think, will I be ever able to come out of his memories? Will it even be fair to the other person I will try to get along with?”

I was expecting this bombardment of questions from her. After all people who speak less, speak in paragraphs when they do! 😀

“Listen, will you forget him ever, and this is serious!”

“Never”

“Do you really love him a lot?”

“Still in doubt?”

“No! Not at all!”

“then?”, she gave me a quizzed look.

Our conversation went on for some 2 hours more and then she finally felt convinced enough to go back home. It was tough for me to convince her on what was better for her to do. She wanted to pull him back somehow and somehow make things work. Somehow!

Its difficult to let go of people. Always. When someone comes in and gives you a promising and a happy today, all you crave for is multiple “happy today’s” which effectively makes up for your entire future. All we think of is two people and a few circumstances. But life is truly beyond those two humans. Life is too complex. Some ignore and live while others cannot.Some of us tend to not cross that line of complexity and prefer to stay inside. Not because you are not a non-conformist, but because there are emotions and feelings of your closed ones. And you don’t always want to become an issue of worry for them. So you crush your feelings, say sorry to the universe you created and move on.

The last thing she asked before she went back was “What to do with the gifts I have? Throw them all? Burn them? I cannot throw them all and they will keep reminding me of him, all the time.”

I went inside, brought a small wooden box. Opened it up. It had two most common objects from our lives. She wondered what these were for?

“These are my memories. They remind me, that what I stood up for, was pious, true and pure. It was not my greed or lust or selfishness that pushed me back, but the world behind me that I care for and stand responsible for. That my affection was not an ounce false and that it wll never decrease. EVER! That I wont surely go back anytime sooner, but also that I always wish to have a space in my heart and mind. This is my small box of memories.”

She smiled. The usual smile she gave in lieue most of the sentences she never spoke.

I wished her goodnight and dropped her till her car.

Its not always important to move on and “leave the things behind”. When memories are pleasant and your feelings true, you can take a part of those memories and move on. It is a good feeling to sometimes relish your memories and think of the other person of how happy he or she is today. Of how satisfied they would be to see you where you are – a little jealous maybe!

I changed my dress and switched off the lights. I locked the small wooden box and kept it next to me on the bed table. It has been there since a really long time now and not many people know what this is for!

If you’re reading this, I want you to comment below, if moving on is better with memories/ without memories? Share your opinion below. I will be happy to see the opinions.

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

If I asked you the first thing about being non-expressive, you would certainly point out a person who does not speak or talk readily. We normally term such a trait as being non-expressive. But over the years, I have realised that people can be non-expressive, while people can also be (false) expressive at times. Why do we say that some one is non-expressive. When people do not express “themselves” before you. Isn’t the end result the same when people express false. You don’t get whats inside them in either cases.

But I guess people who do not express are better. They don’t give “false” hopes and promises. People who express in a fake bound manner are more dangerous because they create a faux aura around you that trips you to the ground. Flat! On your face!

People who are non-expressive, will show their concern (if any) via other modes, likes being the caring and the constant look-out for you. Wanting the presence and missing when you’re not around. That is the reason why I am comfortable with silent truths than loud fakeness. You know that when you’re in real deep shit someday, it’s the silent but the honest one who will come next to you on that bench and give a hand to put yours on, and console. They wont talk to you,(mind you), but will simply sit next to you or just keep a hand on your shoulder while you recollect yourself.

And when the recollection happens, there will be “One” word or a phrase and that will make up for everything. This will be followed up by mostly a smile. And believe me, this is good enough for a person like me to garner enough strength to smile and go to bed smiling. Quite enough.

I am writing this, because today a friend of mine told she hated people who spoke less and expressed less. I told her instantly that I have known people closely who talk less but express more. Way more than what words could do. Ever. I later realised how people who “spoke less/expressed less” are way better than people who expressed fake.

I am in the category of people who express fake. I am the villain here. 😀

But I really enjoy the company of people who don’t express too much, because it makes me express less fake and be more true to myself.

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

Ludo is a game that is known and played and loved by all. When you play a good game of Ludo, you play a life. The same happens with other games too, but here the challenge is a weird one and your luck rather, dominates your mindfulness and regime of the game. It is pretty much the way our lives are, seemingly simple but dominated by factors which are unknown to us, mostly.

The primary task of beginning your life itself depends on the first score you get. Life is cruel here. You don’t get the requisite score, you don’t even get to play the game altogether. Pretty much like the entrance exams we’ve all been through. You don’t cross the threshold of 6, sit down and try again. Once you get a required 6, you feel ecstatic only to realise that you are going to get shot down right after 3 more steps. We do get put down by some people early in our lives, don’t we? Some promising relationships and aspirations do end pretty early in life.

Life gives you some pitt-stops, much like LUDO! Where you feel secured, loved and cared for a moment, but alas! That position has to be moved, shifted, displaced – because you scored! Perfect example of leaving the safe spots in order to progress, only making life more vulnerable and doubtful. Remember leaving homes, leaving those small lovely times of the little love stories that we left behind because we thought we need to progress in our lives?

Then, there is a phase when you pass through a lovely soul. A soul of different color, you spend a good time in their company and you feel – okay, I am not the only one running on the board, there are others too. You feel the company, the compassion. You feel great and then suddenly realise, you’ve been hit again, by the same coin from another land. The other color. You feel lost, discouraged and disheartened, but you try again andbegin hard. Get a score again and run again. This time surpassing all pitt-stops and finally hitting that one coin who hit you last time. By this time, our other coins are out too.

These other coins are akin to the other responsibilities of our lives. They come out one by one and then you need to decide the priority of your attention. Maybe sometimes, your first coin will be at a safe stop while you bring others back on track or sometimes they will be left vulnerable at a fatal spot. At it is really painful, when you lose the first coin again just because you prioritized to go with the later coins.

However, in this game and in life, we need to make a lot of compromises with other players so that our goals are achieved with minimum obstructions and upsetting situations.

Then you finally feel like you’ve reached the home. Some real unfortunate ones get shot at the last step to home line, but its okay. It’s a part of the betrayals the game has to offer. Then you make that one coin reach the home. I wonder if this is the home or the place where you begun was the home? Anyways.

The best part of the game is that people who have all coins at home, but one, can also lose the game. It’s a perfect mixture of luck, game strategy and your arrangement with other players in the game. You can team up and betray other players, you can fake a step and betray, just to survive. We all eliminate people from our lives just to make sure we are both happy and content at the end of the day. We all have done this. Haven’t you?

But true, its truly a treat to be home with the last coin. The feeling is unbelievable. Feels like you already saw a life!

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

Have you ever felt like losing a war, even without actually battling for it? Have you ever felt like completely collapsing without there being a proper reason for it? Ever felt it was extremely difficult to keep going, even when you had no clue when someone asked you the reason for it? Happens with me a lot! And more often than not, I try not to even inspect for the reason. Some things are better left in space.

There can be two scenarios when such feeling seeps in- one, you can either show it out on skin, and secondly – stay gloomy and lost and uninterested and in terrible pain. The worst comes when people ask you the reason for it and you say, I don’t know, just not feeling great! Believe me, 9 out of 10 cases, your friends will think you are hiding a possible breakup, or a family issue or some form of academic/professional pressure. I mean, its okay for your friends and people around you to think that way, because, obviously there would be something that’s troubling you.

Usually, we are unable to recognize whats troubling us. It can be a fear, an uncomfort or just blankness or the need for solitude. It’s even difficult to guess the reasons for it. It is a stretched condition, sometimes so bad, that it leads to conditions like persistent weeping, extreme loneliness and so on.

How do you tackle this? I don’t know.

Whenever I have been in my lows of life, there has always been some or the other work, mostly challenging in nature, which comes upright and faces me and more often than not, I have no other option but to submit to it and work hard. By the time, I am done with the work, I am halfway past the pain and the low, without any significant display of pain to others. It just happens, I don’t really know how.

It might happen with some, while it might not happen with others. Possible. Life is a unique and often, an unjust game in itself.     While most of us would not appear to find a way out, there is one way which I feel can help most of us. We all know time heals everything. But the “time” itself is critical. Lets say, time will heal in 50 days. The 0-50 days time period will itself be so freaking tough that it will break you in and out. You cannot expect to be lying down restlessly and keep reminding yourself that time will heal everything. You’re simply going to have an over troubled, extremely painful 50 days.

Instead, try not quitting your routine work. Have your food as you used to, take bath and freshen up on the times you used to, attend classes/office as you used to, if you are a cinema freak and you have Friday evenings set for you, do not miss them then. You might just be a silent body moving around in your day to day activities, that is absolutely fine, but do not cease to do it. You might seem to be the most lost person on the dining table, but its fine. Its ok to be different. But its important to keep going.

I have seen so many people just keep going with their pains on their shoulders and finally come out. Not happy, but neutral. With a ground where seeds of happiness can be sown once again. Where another element of joy, which will finally give way to laughters and smiles, those old ones.

Remember, it might just sound like the most clichéd line ever, but there is dawn after the darkest hour.

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

If ever, ever in my life I had to mention the worst feeling and the most dangerous motivation then it will be. “I have done it for so long, how can I desert it no”, or more generally termed as the “will to quit” and “when to quit”.

This is by far, I believe, the one factor which has taken down so many lives and hearts and aspirations across the world and across the history. We precisely fail to accept where the exit point is. Leave about taking an exit. There is one major flaw with all these motivation quotes and articles that say, “the miracle will happen” or “just stick to it”. They don’t tell you that there are cases where even when you quit at some phase, its absolutely ok. Its okay to have tried and not succeeded. Its okay to have been in the process, ground yourself to the utmost and not been to the terminal line. Its okay!

When we are through 1/4^th of a work, we think, 25% is already done, lets keep on doing it. Then we come at 50% and then we are like, half of it is already done. Can’t help it and let’s keep doing. And then there are the 60% and the 70% milestones. There are times when the finishing of work is not even a distant chance and its better to say quit and focus on other things. But the lust of the completion of the work, makes you crave for the completion. What happens in the mean time is a half-baked cake and a restless mind.

How can this be settled apart? Is there a way? Can I today say it quits and focus on other things instead? Can I say its okay I tried, or do I keep slogging for the next few hours more with a focus on achieving completion? Its difficult. When the stakes are high, you want to try till the needle breaks. Till your eyes are tired and till the last second available is utilised. But in the meantime, we lose out on a lot of other things which are pending. The fight to make a decision to quit goes on till the end. Every minute there is a tussle, what to do, to let things stay status quo or to quit?

Every now and then your mind gives you “x” reasons to continue and “x+1” reasons to quit. While all this really does not matter if you are well determined to do it, but such doubts exists, when you are not sure of the entire process yourself. When there is a “should I”, “Will I”, “Do I”, etc., these are the phrases that keep bringing 100 reasons to your mind why you must quit.

But, at the end there is one major thing that has to be decided by me, you and all those in such situations. What will be the outcome of the “quitting” or “continuing”. Some outcomes though not the happiest are desirable and some outcomes though very promising are supposed to be ignored. For me, this is extremely tough. So there is one tool I use consistently to move away all apprehensions from my mind regarding quitting a particular objective.

I just make sure that if quitting or continuing, either of them, will make me repent of my decision, I do not take that way. I do not proceed in any direction which makes me repent later. If my memory serves me right, I have made two major decisions in my life which I will forever repent. Apart from those two, I do not want to make a third one. Not so soon atleast.

So, I guess I must continue. Till the time allows. Till destiny allows. Till we allow it to happen. Let me give everything that I can and try to accomplish the objectives. Anything beyond will be a bonus, but atleast I must stop where I wanted to reach. The satisfaction that I gain is beyond any rewards.

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

Most people including me, love corners. Home, bus, trains, offices, hostels, classrooms, anywhere for that purpose. Corners are usually the most sought out locations in an enclosed space. In a bus, preferring the last row last seat (near the door), in the train preferring the window seats, in a class the last row last bench, in an office the last workstation, these are premium spots where the premium minds settle down. I, too, crave for corner spaces. Why? I really did not know until recent, when I decided to find out the reason behind it. So, I started noticing every time, why any other seat did not appeal to me as much as the corner seats.

The summer internship brought in recent the strongest feelings of the corner. It was famously termed as the cozy corner by all including me. It was really cozy to the extent, I could just keep sitting there the whole night. I really enjoyed the first week I sat there and then I knew that I had to decipher this somehow.

To know this, I started sitting on the other locations during the nights. Sometimes in the table at the center of the room, sometimes at the second last row. I also tried a hand to sit on a table right next to the door where two colleagues were already used to sitting. So, I would generally go and sit down in their spots during the nights. Over a few days of this, I came to some conclusions as to how and why a corner seat is so heavily demanded and what are the usual reasons one can generate for this. Also,  I wondered if we could generalise this for everyone or only for some special personalities.

Firstly, there was one very obvious reason. Corners prevent the possibility of being caught or someone peeping through the rear end. We all admit it honestly that not all of us are always 100% true to our works. Even the most honest will agree to a 5-10% dishonesty at work on the edge of social networking or YouTube or similar such time killers. If there is someone who denies it, she is either a super hero or the employer of the month. Even if you just have the 5% dishonesty, chances are that every % of your “dishonest time” will surface up only and only when your boss steps in. You keep working for 4 hours straight, open your Facebook just to scroll for a minute, and alas! The boss is there. from where, God knows! But she is just there. So, its better to keep things simple and take a corner seat. First issue, sorted out. But you have to keep working hard to keep the sanctity of the spot, else you simply end up giving you and the spot both a bad name.

Secondly, there was another factor that I felt after thinking quite a lot. People sitting behind me actually made me uncomfortable. It made me insecure, in a way, that I would be sub-consciously unaware about their thoughts, thinking, etc. I realized this happened to me, because of the several occasions, where I have been treated badly behind my back and being left alone with me getting aware of the situation weeks after things subsided. This one is a little personal to me and I am really not sure, if others feel it too. I you feel so, tell me. I will feel less of a maniac!

Thirdly, there is this comfortable zone which is created. Humans, like other many species is a territorial specie. We tend to create territories and strive to protect it and its arrangement. So, for me the corner was important and comfortable for the precisely same reason. I had my workstation set and a few niches where I could keep my things. The whole atmosphere was just set. Both sides, the glazing were in my control. I could reach out to them while sitting and open them during the nights to let in the cool breeze. Ah, the cool breeze! Damn it!

Fourthly, corners also invite a lot of similar minded people. Corners are not just spatial locations, they are like magnets. They attract people with the similar mindsets, approach to life. Or atleast, in the least case, they will bring together people who have all the above 3 characteristics. My cozy corner, so called, also invited friends and colleagues, whose friendships I could savour for life. Not all will stay in touch, but probably stay in mind. Its because of these features, that the link will be present, come what may.

So after all these observations, I can now conclude that the corners are not just spatial locations, they are a feature set. Characters in themselves. It can be a desolate location for some, while a location bubbling with joy and life for others.

I do love cozy corners. A lot more now. Tell me in the comments or text me if you love cozy corners too. Share this within your friend circles and lets see how many of your friends love cozy corners too. Lets see how big this circle of corner-lovers is!

 Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

Olive oil. Must’ve seen it in shopping malls across India now. Olive oil which was earlier a continental fine dining component till now, has slowly made its way across to our kitchens. Thanks to the European literature showing its fantastic qualities and thanks to all our diet related experts who have grown up reading those pieces of literature showing which shows that olive oil is the best. The reason for me ranting will be clear if you understand and get angry at the following.

Glass buildings in India, because they work well in European countries.

It’s the same logic. Olive oil works best in those countries for where it is the native oil and product. Just the way, mustard oil works well in eastern part and the north part of India and coconut oil works in almost the entire Deccan part of India. It is absolutely no rocket science that a coconut oil may easy slip down to the second position when it comes down to the North of India, while people down south may not like the mustard oil.

There are 3 major reasons for the major upsurge in the marketing of Olive oil.

Suddenly all doctors, dieticians and fitness experts have realised it that Olive oil goes well with fit habits. As if all their clients whom they consulted till now are all sick. The major reason behind this is the marketing profit or the literature that they come up studying. Most professionals usually do not dare to think beyond the literature. They prefer literature and “big books” to common sense or local knowledge.

Secondly, it’s the large Asian markets that the European companies are eyeing. Asia on a whole offers a huge huge huge market to any European nation. It did so even in the 16^th century, so as it does today.

Thirdly, it is us. We love to flaunt things with a foreign origin or anything which is expensive. I have seen olive oil bottles kept on the kitchen counter, with the “Made in Germany” in the front. I mean, this is terrible and wonderful at the same time.     They wear it with pride that we do not use mustard oil and instead use olive oil. And they will keep talking about it the whole time, how they use it with the “salads” their dietitian has suggested, how they use it in the big bun sandwich and how it has made them so fit.

I have in the recent months got 3-4 people telling me that my complexion will improve if I use the Olive oil in my food more. Also, that mustard oil makes my face darker. I told that person, I have decided to get a complexion like Morgan Freeman and obesity like Ganesh Acharya. Because I want to be famous and rich of talent. I mean, what else should I tell to such market and advertisement following idiot. Educated, it seems!!

My one request to everyone. Trying olive oil for the sake of it or even consuming it as a continental product is also ok. But why demean our own local products, local oil and superimpose the olive oil?

Makes your skin dark and olive makes you think, what rubbish!

Always Ranting, Rantzaada. 

First, to understand anything about “Hinduism”, the very first point you need to understand that Hinduism started getting identified as a religion only after other religions started invading and dominating the realms of the subcontinent. Else, what terms and conditions and the scriptures and the literature that you see in the name of “Hinduism” are mostly transcripts and manuals suggesting methods and procedures of performing several rituals, lifestyle manuals and the basic or elaborate do’s and dont’s. That is the reason why it was called “Dharma” which literally translates to “Good deeds”. It is a pity that the world and us both accepted the hindi translation of Religion to be “Dharma”.

Secondly, the question about the death ceremony was asked about one of my very close friends who belongs to a religion which is by far presently the most glamorized religion on earth. His doubt was that he has seen Hindu post death ceremonies doesn’t look like the person has even got the time to feel sad or remember someone who has been lost. Isnt it cruel on the part of the society to force the kins or the spouses into a long list of ceremonies and rituals, rather than leave them in solitude for a few days till she becomes a little light headed and then resume normalcy in her/his life.  

So I am writing this so that he someday comes across this someday.

Indian families have been basically a family unit, patriarchal in almost the entire country barring a few states in the NE and a few communities down South. In a family unit, one person’s actions or emotions, within no time effect the entire family and it’s functioning. When a person in a family dies, the family is naturally forced into grief and sorrow. As a family, a prolonged period of grief can hamper the structure of the family. In Hindu traditions, it is believed that its only the body that we shred and not the soul. Hence, it is always emphasized that the family does not mourn the passing away beyond a certain limit.

Now, western cultures usually enter into  8-10 days of grief and sorrow and solitude after someone dies. Human brain acts in a way, that it demands and craves for solitude after it faces sudden grief. Sometimes, a person can enter solitude, sit calmly and come back refreshed and ready to resume life. But more often than not, the moment we enter solitude after a big sudden event of grief, we enter into a vicious cycle of sadness and memories and here the solitude just takes you deeper into trouble and does not actually help you in anyway to come out.

Indian traditions on the other hand, have detailed and elaborate rituals and ceremonies to be conducted as soon as a person dies. Activities ranging from social processions with the funeral to show solidarity to the bereaved family to various kind of path and puja. The path and the recitations are basically texts that tell the person and the family that death is not the end of the soul, rather just an intermediate stop. There are shlokas and mantras that relieve the family of the grief and gives a message that life must go on whatever happens.

Every action post death includes the society and the near and close ones. Like the path and the rituals, the group lunch or the “brahmbhoj”. All these things are put in place so that the bereaved family is put busy in so much work and indulgence into other things that they do not enter the solitude wherein they spend their mind missing and grieving about the deceased. These rituals go on for a couple of weeks and by the time this period ends, the family in in a much better state to accept the truth with the social support and the number of relative interactions they had.

In case of absence of such a system, the family is very highly vulnerable to depressive thoughts and prolonged period of grief. Not a wonder, why depression and loneliness was not as regular as it is today. The entire family, however jealous of each other would take on the pressure together protecting anyone from entering a period of depression.

And ofcourse, with changing times and with more families becoming nuclear, the necessity of these rituals and ceremonies becomes all the more important. And what a beautiful way of pulling out a family out of grief, by a method of social inclusion.

Always Ranting, Rantzaada. 

Sometimes, you don’t really have much to express. Sometimes, its just blankness. A blankness which means to cover up so much of the memories you’ve created over the past days or months.

I am short of words today, maybe nothing major coming up in my mind.

I will just like to state some of my favorite pieces that I have written and if time allows and you haven’t read through them yet, give it a try. These are pieces I have really written with a lot of affection and composure. They left me quite peaceful once I finished writing them up. I hope, if it connects well with you reading it, it will make you feel the beat too.

So, here is the list of top 7 favourite pieces from my junk. Hope you all will love revisiting it.

1. https://the11oclockdiary.home.blog/2019/07/24/rant-2-the-disgrace-of-the-holy-blood-the-bleeding-lady/
   Rant 2: The disgrace of the holy blood: the bleeding lady
2. https://the11oclockdiary.home.blog/2019/08/06/rant-15-the-drowning-biscuit-and-waiting-clock/
   Rant 15: The drowning biscuit and waiting watch
3. https://the11oclockdiary.home.blog/2019/08/13/rant-22-dating-a-plate-of-idli/
   Rant 22: Dating a plate of Idli
4. https://the11oclockdiary.home.blog/2019/08/20/rant-29-its-not-just-black-and-white/
   Rant 29: It’s not just black and white
5. https://the11oclockdiary.home.blog/2019/09/11/rant-51-the-useless-consolation/
   Rant 51: The useless consolation
6. https://the11oclockdiary.home.blog/2019/09/23/rant-63-the-pretty-superstitions/
   Rant 63: The p(r)etty superstitions
7. https://the11oclockdiary.home.blog/2019/09/27/rant-67-the-wrong-turn/
   Rant 67: The wrong turn

All these pieces are closer than all the other pieces on some parameter or the other. I hope when you read them you will really feel a sense of what I am like. Well, I truly believe now that my blog has pretty much become my biodata. It is akin to saying, If you read me , you will know me.
And if you know me well by now, thanks!

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

What is the physical distance between two immovable bodies A and B? Simple, isn’t it? The shortest distance between them is the shortest straight line that can be drawn between those two points.

What is the shortest distance between two cities if you’re on a car? Is it the straight line distance? No. Infact here it changes to the shortest “on-road” distance between the two cities. You can see the difference, we are now introducing the concept of an approachable road where the vehicle can drive comfortably. This definition contains a sense of practicality, a sense of comfort and ease. Sometimes, travelling from Roorkee to Delhi (187km), for that matter, can take more time than travelling from Delhi to Agra (via the Expressway) (233 km). It all depends upon the mode or the selection of the bestfit method.

These distances between two points becomes still more complex when you include the different mode of transports. Carts to flights. So many parameters come in. It just becomes too complex to easily state – this is closer and this is far.

Think of how easily we term human relationships as far or close or together. IS it really that simple? With physical distance between two cities, a few factors make it so complicated, what complications do human feelings bring in?

Humans can have prejudice for each other. We can have discriminations – in form of social, political, economical, religious, caste based (welcome to India). Plus add to it, our own ego, as if all of this was still less. When you combine everything and plate it in front of two or more humans living across at different points ranging from x = 0 to x = y, where x is the distance between two or more people, it becomes a math that is beyond calculation.

Its like in today’s time, you really do not know who might lose interest in you at what instance. You go have a beer together with your best friend from school and that might be the last time you met! The shit news is we haven’t evolved science as much so as to project or forecast human expressions or reactions. We have kind of started but not there yet. People who live right next to you might actually be at a greater distance than your parents living thousands of miles away.

We have seen relationships flourishing and continuing several continents apart and we see people struggling to smile at the end of the day when the meet at the dining. So, it is clearly and certainly very difficult to conclude someone actually lives closeby.

This all started when a guy next to me, in the train, told me how his family has been pursuing him to come home for the Durga Pooja and how his friends were planning for a trip. How he was furious because he had to ditch people who are “with him” for 7 years for his parents who live like 42 hours “away”. I was a little taken back by his response. But its ok! Maybe I will never understand what is the relation between the two groups. So I ended the conversation with a “hmm”. I try not to judge people and their relationships so easily. I do so only when there is someone close who is involved and is at stake.

Anyways, I had a pretty journey with that guy from Dehradun. He was ofcourse happy he was back home but a little sad that he had to leave the trip with his friends. I hope his home trip makes up for atleast some part of that trip.

Do let me know in the comments below if you have also experienced the complexity in the distance between human relationships, or have felt that people apart seem to be closer than the people living next to you.
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Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

Want to become a patriot in the fastest and simplest way possible? Keep reading.. 

1. Save Food

Before the food is cooked, have a little family discussion as to what everyone wants to eat. So that the family comes to some sort of consensus and less food and resources are wasted. Doesn’t matter a shit if you’re the highest tax payer of your colony. Food is a natural resource and you wasting it for reasons whatsoever is not and cannot be justified.

People eating outside and filling their plates (just because they paid for it), must practice restraint of their gastronomic habits. Do not end up mixing a sweet and a dal and then throwing it just because you had the brains to mix them in the first place. Act cupid, not stupid!

2. Be a water-warrior.

Just to give you an idea, if everyone in the country just sees a tap dripping 2 drops per second, (its like a very very slow dripping) and just ignore it saying, eh.. what happens with these drops. If 133.92 crore people witness 2 drops/second leaking of a tap, we will be losing approximately one Bhakra Nangal dam every day. That’s how much a leakage of 2 drops/second in India means.

So anytime you see people brushing with their taps on, washing the face with their taps on, or just looking at their faces (faeces) with the taps on, first give them one tight slap, close the tap and then tell them the reason you’ve hit them. You will do a real service to humanity.

3. Teach your kids the love for greens and soil and flowers.

Have you visited an upper middle class kids birthday party? What gifts do you see? Cars, motorbike models and what not. Stop all this crap. Gift them a flowerpot or a gardening DIY. Let them touch the soil, wait for the plant to grow. Wait for the flowers to blossom. Wait for the bees to come and wait for the spings to come. Give them a book.

Understand the value of a generation. Our stupidness and show of wealth can destroy an entire generation.

4. Respect for people

Look, we need to realise, not everyone is a competitor. Right? So when you are somewhere in a queue and someone is in a hurry, or is panting for breath just because he or she might be just missing the next train or the bus, allow. Step back.

Make a target of at least comforting 1 stranger per week. That’s a huge effort you will be making in your otherwise not so interesting life. And yes, do not give yourself that kind of an excuse that you feel frightened to talk to people. You don’t feel frightened when you talk to a shopkeeper, do you? So just go forward and help at least 1 person every week. It will also fill you up with stories and conversations that would remain in your mind for your life.

4. Donate a part of what you earn.

If you somehow are able to evade tax ( non accounted income/ lower than the payable bracket/ or any other instrument you use to evade taxes), please make it a habit of putting some amount of your money every month to Direct Reach to the needy. This is not the donation you make to a trust or a charity. That is okay. If done, great! I am talking about doing some direct service to someone. Treat a kid or a group of kids. Buy something that someone around you needs and cannot afford to. It will be a extra brownie point for you.

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There might be several other measures and hacks to be a patriot. Patriotism doesn’t always come by associating yourself with some leader or some organisation or just by serving the nation in a profession. Service to nation also comes by serving people, serving the environment and saving the natural resources.

Step up and do the needful. None of what I have mentioned is tougher than you taking 100 selfies and choosing one of them and then spending 30 minutes for the perfect edit and waiting and frequently going back to see you crossing 400 and 500 likes. It is much easier than that.

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

“Congratulations Sir”, Anant said.

“Thanks Ananth, how are you doing?”, I asked

“Quite fine sir, just started my preparation last month”, he replied.

“Great Ananth, good luck for your preparation!”

“Thank you sir, looking up to you for success!” He sounded like a devotee.

“Umm, yeah ook! Chalo Bye. Take care and study well!” I hung up on the call.

But what he said kept moving in my mind. “Look up to you”. Why should he look up to me, it is his exam, his studies his preparation strategy. I can help with the exam pattern and some quick tips but does that make me higher or him any smaller?  Well, not. There is just a difference in time and scale.  Maybe, tomorrow he will have a much better All India Rank than mine. Who knows? Will he still look up to me?

“Looking up to you” is an ungrateful phrase, where the one who says, automatically comes down to the lower ground. You are up, means I am below you. It’s as simple as that. Why would I look “up to you” If you were at the same level as mine, I will probably not look up to you nor will I give you any chance to you to look down to me. It’s only because I look up that you can look down at me. Its just that simple.

But people keep saying that often, to people almost everywhere. Humans are a dangerous breed. The moment they realize the one infront seeks a lower position, automatically he/she assumes a much higher position just in his mind. I remember, once a colleague professor told me not to talk to students so openly. He said they won’t look up to you any further. I was confused, what does my talking to them and they looking up to me (for guidance) got to do. He said, unless you don’t look down at them, they will not look up to you.  

It was quite a simple proposition by him and much as the type of species humans are used to exploit anyone who tries to seek your help (most of them, not all ofcourse).  So, basically to go up you push someone down and then both are happy. One is happy to be pleading and the other in the blessing mode. That’s how human emotions work. We are used to godlike people, we are used to officers, bureaucrats and ministers. We are used to saluting them, with folded hands when we see them. We make them what they think they are.

Take the bosses in the offices, for example. Most of the bosses keep a distance from the lower level employees and other office staff. Its not just the higher one who is at fault. The moment you come at par level with someone to share a conversation, the one who is lower in hierarchy loses that respect which you deserve professionally or socially. It’s a weird paradox. A two way issue.

There are people who will ignore you, pause you, and walk over your thoughts or conversations. They are mostly good at doing these things. But what they forget and what you forget (incidentally at the same time) that had there been no one to talk, and approach repetitively, these   “upper layer” people could not have actually run over your conversation   or ignored you.  

Do not lift up people too much in your view. Be it anyone. A professor, a friend, a senior. Give the respect they deserve whether professional, personal or social. But do not “look upto them” as then you are the most vulnerable person who is on the receiving end.
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Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

This is about a small mirror I had in my childhood in the 2^nd room in line after the drawing hall. It was an oval shaped mirror roughly 18 inches long at the major axis and about 10 inches on the minor one. The mirror was framed by a beautiful wooden looking frame, which I realised quite late was not wood but something known as Plaster of Paris. God damn it!

It was fixed at a height of around 5 feet and obviously it wasn’t meant for the younger members of the family. We had the handy mirrors for our makeup that included just combing. ( I mean it’s still just combing for me). But we would often take our chances to reach up to the mirror when no one was home and fancy the opportunity to look into it. It was a royal attempt to treachery.

I always wondered what a mirror is actually made of. Looks like glass, but you could see through a glass but not a mirror. There was something different with it. There was something which made the mirror opaque from one side, so I could not see through.  Because if I could see through, I would be unable to see myself. A little older, I learned it from my father how a mirror works. All those rays coming and reflecting making a virtual Image and things, all OK! I understood how it works.

But the story of the mirror does not end here. The mirror is just way more than a normal science tool or a material with reflective features. It is an emotion in itself. A character so sharp and with such astounding features that “mirror” can actually become an adjective from the noun it is. Mirror is also a verb.  But mirror can be an adjective and I tell you why.

Mirror does show you everything you want to see. It does not lie to you (unless it’s a funny mirror with optical errors, still gives you smiles). You want to see your ears, your lips in great detail your eye lashes or the letters written on an Ambulance in reverse. It shows you all. Good, bad, bitter, whatever it may be. Mirror reflects you as you are. It often solves your issues. How?

A mirror is a great listener. I mean, there is no human or object on this earth wherein you talk to someone and you see yourself in it? Is there something so great? What better to see yourself listening to what you are speaking! Crazy isn’t it? The mirror is also the best friend. Gives you the most honest advices and bitter realities. It will never behave with you the way society does. It wont tell you that the  pimple on your nose doesn’t matter.

But, how is the mirror being able to do so much to you. Serve you so much, without fail. Because, the mirror can nearly conceal everything that is within it. You remember the old mirror I was talking about. When it  broke finally, while we were shifting houses, then I turned it upside back and found   that there was a whole world of that mirror which we really never cared for. It was so terrible that I could see what was up with the mirror only when it broke completely and we decided to put it out of use.

There were names of the company that produced it, there were marks of colors, sindoor, several bindis, probably quite old. An insects house and a layer of newspaper that dated back to sometime in ’85 or ’86. Probably  the producers coated it with a piece of newspaper. I removed the newspaper. What I saw shocked me. The rear side of the shiny, reflective and bright mirror, which meant everything for us, was dark in color. Like the darkness you feel when you lose everything. It was really painful to see, we never really cared for the mirror.

And maybe its not all our mistake. I guess the mirror would never have hinted us what was actually behind the shiny surface. That is what mirrors are made for. To shine, reflect and show the “virtual image”.

Look for the mirror. The other side of it. The mirror hides. That is why it is!

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Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

It was 7 hours since we were travelling and it was absolute chaos where we were headed to. The landmarks that we were informed of were not to be seen anywhere and we where simply driving blank on a road between a barren shrub filled land. It became all the more problematic as only one guy among us received mobile signal and he was staring at low battery issues. We were just driving on the solitary road thinking somewhere we will come across a direction signal pole with an Ambedkar statue behind it. We were directed to take a left turn from there and head straight for 3 km.

We kept driving but the landmark was nowhere to be found. We finally decided to stop at a small tent tea-shop. It was now turning out to be tiring. Real tiring. We have been driving since 7 hours and 3 hours of it have been in this arid and barren land. We were 3 plus the driver. We were bound to visit a small tribe somewhere in here and we were in touch with the postmaster of that village. He was the one who gave us directions.

We sat at the tea shop and soon found ourself in conversation with the tea-seller. He was quick enough to tell us about most of his family and his kids, his average income, his family aspirations and  what he aspires to in his own life for himself. Little did we realise we had spent 45 minutes  there. We resumed our journey and luckily soon we got the statue and we took an eager left. Within some next 25 minutes we were at the destined place. We stepped down the car. I saw 3 kids running towards us. I guess a car is not one of the regular things  they see here. Within no time, we had around 12-13 people who came out of their houses.

These houses were beautifully decorated and were quite spacious and well thought of. I being an architect, am habituated to diagnose any built space I am into. Please excuse me for that! 😀

Soon, they were all ready with a make shift drawing room beneath the tree with a stool a central table, 4 chairs and one flowerpot placed near the central table. We were shocked at their preparedness. Soon we had one small girl and a boy, barely 10-11 years of age come to us with a medium sized open bowl with some water in it and started washing our feet with their own hands.

We hesitated a little, but the postmaster asked us not to move. It was their tribal way to welcome guest when they come from a long journey. They do not feel anything low or suppressing about it. It is a natural and indigenous way of welcoming guests. We agreed to sit back but it really felt weird and good at the same time.

Then, they brought boiled rice in small cups made of leaves with a chilli and some rock salt. WE thought they mistook us to be hungry, but the guide said, it is a form of snack. Please accept. We were shocked at everything they did. So much love and compassion. So much respect even for the unknown. None of them knew that we were ought to come here. But we were astonished to be hosted so warmly.

“Did you guys take a wrong turn?”, the guide Rema asked.

“Umm, yea I guess. Maybe we took a right before it was supposed to be and came up on an entirely different longer route.” the driver replied.

While the conversation went on, there was something else going in my mind. Have we really not taken a wrong turn? I mean, look at the     general behaviour and the social structure of the tribes. Such closely knit and accountable society. Its not that they might not be having quarrels and fights. Must be having. But still when it comes to the tribe, they identify themselves as one.

We are in a society where self-righteousness and pseudo-individualism has grown to such a scale where the solution of every problem is turning towards solitude. Be it in thoughts, actions or lifestyle. Surely, solitude is a medicine to so many issues but surprisingly it has become a prescription for anything that happens to an individual. We are so much pressed up by the lust of money, material, consumerism and greed that we fail  to realize time and space for our own people, our “tribe”. We are down with greed and lust. Putting down people every now and then. The closer they are the bigger pain we thrust upon them.

Cities have taught us to one thing. Cutoff something that is easily available to you. Then pay to a service provider for the same. Take the case of mental health counsellings, organic food, better health, home cooked food and the list goes on.

“Amit, aye, Amit.. lets go man!”, Sahil said.

“yea.. yea!” I came back to my senses.

“what are you thinking? Lost again? Stop daydreaming here.”, and everyone laughed.

“Nothing, I was just thinking about the wrong turn we took.”

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Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

Finally I took a sigh of relief. It was a narrow escape. My phone nearly survived a death. The official service center suggested me to keep this back in the recycle bin for e-waste and get a coupon in exchange. I was in two minds then, but I chose to keep it back. I hadn’t called it up on it yet. I knew if I was to lose it, I will take the last(est) chance possible on this earth to have it back.

After a week passed by, I was strolling through the market and incidentally my phone was still in my bag. I just paused by a mobile repairing shop and showed him the phone. He asked me the problem, to which I replied. The same old reply which I had been giving at nearly 10 service centers. Anyways, he took the phone and went inside. Diagnosed it and came out. He said it will be OK and fine and working and all that. He just needs to change the charging port module board and it will be up again.

I really did not believe him to be honest. I told him how much time would it take to which he replied at least 2-3 hours as he’s got some other works to complete first. I told him that I will see at some other place and come back to him if I couldn’t get it done quicker. I did not believe him to the core, well, because I had got the same response from 4 other phone repair shops, to which I agreed, they did something but the phone still did not work. I had to pay the diagnosis charges also. The service center guy had told me the problem is with the mother board and there is no alternative at all. So I had literally no hope that the phone would make it.

Anyways, I went back to him again after an hour. He took the phone and went inside. After 10 minutes, he came out and showed me the phone had started. He told he will now substitute the previous board. It will be all fine.

I felt as if someone just opened up a blocked nose or a fractured limb got walking again. I paid him the amount and came back happily. I quickly created a backup of everything that was there. I left everything aside and spent time updating and installing apps and creating backups, etc.

Suddenly my eyes went to the small phone. It lay on the corner of the table, without a sim and without a memory card. The back cover of the phone was kept next to it and it lay there, looking at the ceiling. Lying lifeless without a battery, without a memory card. I guess that’s what lying lifeless means. I had bought this phone when several repair shops had denied checking on my phone any further as they said it was dead and no way other than was the change of motherboard possible.

This phone, though dead cheap, came in as a useful buddy. I could surf internet and use whatsapp. I could access a small VGA camera and I also had a Google assistant on it. It was really fun with the new feature phone. I knew someday, I would coax into buying a new smartphone again and this will be put aside, but I thoroughly explored the phone, made all the necessary and possible personalisation’s offered in the phone. It really came in handy while I was travelling.

The moment I got my phone back, I nearly forgot about the feature phone. I know my priority for this had changed now. It will be again on a backup bench until the next time my smartphone ditches. I mean, there is no way the feature phone can match the smartphone but the money spent to the features offered ratio is pretty high.  I mean, it gives a huge 3 day battery backup, loud speakers and strong and sturdy physical built-up, this is way more stable and long lasting if compared to the fragile, battery eating and the space taking smartphone. But again, in a world of features, it’s the “latest features” that matter.

I felt bad for the smaller phone. I went up to it. Put up the back cover, packed it into the box and kept it inside the drawer. I know it must be sad. But it would be proud too. Because it knows, I am going to take it out again when I will be in need. DIRE NEED. When nothing else will workout, the smaller phone will. The only thing unfortunate with the smaller phone was that IT WAS THE SECONd ONE. That happens. Even the  other phone knows. I know it too. Doesn’t mean my affection for it decreases, but unfortunately I am not a person who will easily handle two phones. I will surely forget one somewhere. So better I keep it safe. Close to me somewhere. So that I have it by my side, whenever I need it.

Always Ranting, Rantzaada. 

 

I opened the door and just came in. It was a tiring day at college. 9 hours of staying in college while you are doing your PG and a student like me, is surely tiring. I came and kept the bag at the designated place and removed the lid glass off to have some water. Phew, it was really tiring. I just lay down on the bed. Suddenly I received a call. I received the call even without seeing the screen.

“Hello“, a tiring me replied, while I checked the name of the caller.

“Ey Amit, Hi!”

“Hey, long time! Wassup, Nina!”, I said. It was really long I had last had a chat with her. She was kind of doing pretty well with her English honors course and she had grown up to be a pretty strong, independent lady.

“how are you man”, She asked.

“Pretty much going  through this sluggish life. Will make it to somewhere I guess”, I replied laughing.

“hehehehe”

“You tell, whatsup?”

“I need some help and I don’t know how to say this to you. I mean I don’t really know whats wrong. Just that somethings wrong and I don’t know what to do about it”, I could hear her shaky voice.

“Ey, relax relax” I tried to first calm her down.

“Tell me whatever is troubling you or whatever is happening. I am all ears.”, I said.

“I don’t know man. Things just feel like getting out of hand. I feel like I am punctured, shaky, trembling and broken. I don’t really feel like talking to people. Most of them end up with, you’re just tired or maybe its something related to the menstrual cycle or some stupid shit explanation. I know my body better, right? I know this is none of what people are saying!”, She almost broke down while saying this.

I too did not know how to reply to what she said. She was on a call so I just could not figure out. I had been in such situations before when you actually don’t know whats wrong. You wait for a day or two, third day, and then it’s a week and then a month and the shit does not clear off. You cannot tell it to people, else they mock you for being sad without a reason. Mental health is meager joke these days. Some will  even get down to the level of saying that you’re just watching too much of dark seasons. Huh!

“See, Nina. I really do not know what situation you are in and probably by what youre saying, you aren’t clear too. See it can be anything. Absolutely anything. A problem that probably you don’t remember consciously or maybe a huge group of multiple worries taking a toll on you at once. It can really be anything out of your life.

Just make sure you do not fight your emotions. I repeat. DO not fight with your emotions. Do not try to act happy when you are sad. Do not try and force stop them. Not even for a minute. The resistance will hurt you even more. Just stay on one side and let them pass. Time will take care of the rest. Do not resist. That is the key”, I tried to explain what was in my mind. I was still not sure if she could understand what I was blabbering, because honestly even I was not sure of it.

I mean, had this entire conversation been done on a chat, I could have got some time to think but this was on a call and I was trying desperately to make some sense in what I said.

“Umm, I am not sure I am getting what you just said”, she said.

“OK, let me try and put it this way. Imagine you are walking on the street and there are a number of vehicles coming from random directions. Absolutely chaotic situation. You really do not have any control over the flow of traffic. What do you do?

Do you charge in and try to stop  the flow or create a resistance? That will simply lead to exhaustion – both mental and physical and also will result in more worries. Instead what is advisable, is to leave the traffic the way its going. Just pull yourself out of the road. It will be difficult, but you need to exactly do that. Pull yourself out of the entire flow and let the worries flow. Just watch them “happen” the way they are happening to you. Time will gradually slow them down.

The same scenario happens with your mind. You do not know how the thoughts are coming to your mind. Situation is chaotic. Do not try and stop or inhibit the feelings. The more you resist, the greater they become. Just keep yourself aside and let the emotions come. Cry if you feel like, sit alone for sometime if you want to. Go out for a stroll if you want to. Sit back home if you want to. Do not resist. But in the meantime, also make sure you are not hurting yourself or anyone directly or indirectly. Once you do this, things will stay for sometime, somedays, a few months maybe. Time will slowly diminish them.

In the meantime, if situations persists for a longer duration, do not hesitate in seeking for professional help. Do not shy. Mental health is really important. Are you getting what I mean?”, I stopped after a long while.

“Yeah I think this is what I need to go. The more I seem to stop the thoughts, the more troubles I seem to invite for myself. I will surely try doing this. Thanks! I will trouble you anytime I feel so, Please do not mind!”

“hahaha, no problem Nina. Anytime. Always there to hear you out”.

“Chalo. Will catch you later then. Many thanks again”

“Yea, bye Nina! Take care.”

We hung up the call.

I don’t really know if what I said was logical or even makes sense in the first place. But that was genuinely what I thought might work for her. The entire problem with our emotional struggle is that we try to control it, fight with it. We cannot fight things beyond our capacity. We need to understand this. There is a limit to what we can do. Sometimes it is just advisable to let the thoughts happen and go smoothly the way they want. And just let time take its actions on those feelings. Everything that exist will subside. Even your thoughts.

Share with me, if you think there are other ways to handle such a situation. Share with your friends if you feel this can work and help them.

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Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

Some day in 2018, February.

Around 7 pm.

Phone rings.

“Yea, Hi! Tell me”

“Hey Amit, can you send me those 7 pictures from your phone? I need to upload them!”

“Eh, you’re such a jerk. Can’t even wait for a day. Wait, I will mail you the pics. Give me 20 minutes.”

“Sure man! Thanks”

I started searching for those photographs so I could mail them. This trip to Kanchipuram was really refreshing and exciting. Like, I never really thought one city could have had so much variance in the architecture of temples. Incredible. And not that even one of them had been compromised in their respective creativity. They were all masterpieces and pioneers of their own architectural style. I felt so content and was boosting with energy to resume the Tamil Nadu trip the next weekend.

I mailed the pictures. In the subject I wrote, “Weekend Explorations TamilNadu”. Weekends for me are always days of exploration. Internal or external. And why just weekends, any such stretch of time which is peaceful and you can have your own private composure. Any such time can be used for the exploration. Even trying hands at water colouring, stitching, cooking, watching some new shows, etc. anything which you haven’t tried or anything which can reveal another hidden virtue of your life. That is exploration. It is fun.

I got a notification on my Instagram. Wait, not “a” notification. There were multiple uploads. I knew it was all his. He was just crazily waiting to reach home and upload his new “insta” material. His phone ditched him early in the trip else he wouldn’t have waited to even reach home. Such is “his love” for social media.

The pictures were all beautiful. He had taken all from my phone as his was switched off. Very beautiful shots of the kalyani (pond of the temple), the rathas ( the statues of the chariots made of brass) and the stone inscriptions and sculptures. Really good shots. But there was something which disappointed me. The captions.

The captions mentioned “Weekend escapes”, “escape to eternity”, “Weekend getaways escapes”, etc. He just used the word “escape” everywhere. So many hashtags with escape word in it. I wondered what travelling meant for him.

I checked the hashtags. I was astounded to see the huge number of applications the tags had. And when I checked through the posts, they included great tourist locations, some in the Himalayas from Sikkim to Nubra Valley in Pakistan, from the Scandinavian cities to the city of Benaras. All this was an escape?

I sat down wondering on this? What might be the difference between  the experiences of these two different mindsets. One which accepted the trip as an exploration and the other that took it as an escape. It was difficult to figure out the difference as both meant – (somehow) proper utilisation of the free time to relax the mind. But something, somewhere was surely wrong. The way he posted everything on the social media and the kind of comments he got were hinting in a different direction.

I will share some of the comments. “Welcome to Monday in 6 hours”, “Client meeting in 10 hours”, “wake up, the weekend is gone”, “No weekend next week”, etc. It was extremely alarming to see, what the meaning of job and a free day had become. Everything that he did, was it just an escape? If yes, certainly that is the reason why, he left everything on me and asked me to plan it. I was eager to explore more and more in 2 days and so I took all the charge of planning and enquiring.

There surely exist two different annotations for the two different thought processes. There has to be. I do not know which sounds more globally and politically correct, but they sound different for sure. I mean the very way you approach your trip changes the way you look at it.Let us take some scenarios.

In the first 4 hours of the trip:

“Explore”: This place is so different and beautiful. It will be real fun here. We will try see as much as we can with maximum absorption.

“Escape”: Yea really it is beautiful. The whole week we are into 6×6 cubicles. This place is really gonna give some good experience.

In the mid of the trip:

“Explore”: Day 1 was really tiring man. But it was beautiful. Sad that we couldn’t cover the last destination, but maybe tomorrow morning we can take it up early.

“Escape”: Yea. Atleast we saw so many things. Else whole day sitting in office, doesn’t really help us either.

At the end of the trip:

“Explore”: Beautiful city, no? I really wish I had brought my sketchbooks and pencils. So many places to be sketched. I am really looking to visit the place once more. Possibly, in the winters.

“Escape” : Yea man. Only if my phone did not switch off. Nice trip though, man! Thanks. Arghh.. again the same office-office from tomorrow. I hate this.

Not that all the things happened word to word. But these are my interpretations of the entire trip. I believe and its my personal belief, maybe wrong or right, I really don’t care. But this is the difference I believe exists between taking a trip as an “exploration” or an “escape”.

So  the next time, when you are uploading a pic on social media or just writing the caption to your pic, think over it – Explore or Escape?

___________________________________________________________________________________________

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

“oi!”

“What?”

“whats the time?”

“11:08, why? Whats the issue now?”

“Eh, nothing. Shutup!”

“arghh”

A couple of minutes later,

“aye?”

“What?”

“Time?”

“Are you serious!”

“Duh, what’s the time?”

“11:11”

“ey, ey! Wish time. Close you eyes and make a wish!”

She closed my eyes forcefully with her left hand and closed hers too with the other one. I grumbled. I shouted. But did not  try to loosen the grip of her hands.

“What the hell man! Who does this! You’re crazy.”, I said.

“I don’t care. I like to make wishes at 11:11. I feel they can turn true someday.”

I did not reply that very moment. I just said “Bleh” and moved to the other part of the terrace. I did not want to tell her that I wished so many things, all the previous nights. Every  time I saw an owl, or everytime I saw a firefly in the night. My point of wishes or the reasons to make a wish was different, but I was the one making more superstitious wishes, probably.

I mean there is no harm to it right?

I know, its superstition. I know it feels stupid to do such stuff, when you are mature and you are supposed to handle tough social and personal issues. When people your age are fighting against global issues, when sports persons your age are doing wonders making  their own leagues proud wherever they go, when army personnel even younger than me are embracing martyrdom at the borders for a higher cause and here I am, making a wish while I see a firefly. Funny and Stupid, right?

Maybe not! I mean it is funny and kiddish. But you know what, it serves a very big purpose. A purpose which is the sole reason for a a very big prosperous existing market. For a market so huge and so costly, corporates drain billions of dollars per year. It is the motivation and the dream higher market. What do we do essentially when we are making wishes to all these stupid sounding reasons – We are simply making conscious announcements in our brain for a higher dream. Something which we believe is not achievable by the current means. Is it not a wonderful way of reminding yourself everyday, what your dreams are?

I believe in the subconscious brain. I believe when you repeat something more often, it happens. That is why many motivational speakers suggest to use less negative or inhibitive words and more positive words. Like If you want to say, I don’t want to do this on a Monday, say, I would prefer doing this on a day other than a Monday. It’s the same meaning, just that you do not put the word “don’t” in your mind. That’s a negative word and your mind knows it.

So, every time you make a wish, you are filling your mind  with unimaginable, unbelievable targets and dreams which you crave for. I guess we all should do this. Take anything pretty or beautiful that can have periodical occurrences, like a mother cow caressing her kid or a pair of parrots or a tail star or anything like that – make a wish. A wish as stupid as possible or as daunting and brave as well.

It will make you happy. It will soon become a depository of all your happiness. Your mind will automatically start thinking of a dream, a wish, an incomplete target by the time I’s 11:05 pm. You will start thinking of a dream. Do this for a 100 days. You will realise, you never knew you have so many dreams. If possible just write them down on a notebook or a personal diary. Or best way is to have a sealed box, and just write it on a chit and put it inside that. And then open the box on the 100^th day. You will be shocked to see – that you were never out of dreams and high aims – just that you did not give enough time to yourself to dream. You kept the inhibitions so close, that your dreams stood afar.

I don’t know. Many after all this explanation and description still you might find that these are just superstitions and nothing else. I agree. But are not Superman, spiderman and every other fictional character too?

Think about it. Try it.

I am writing this and now it is 11:11 pm. Precisely. I stop here for a second. I close my eyes and make a wish. 🙂 

Your lucky time can be 12:12 or 10:10. Doesn’t really matter.

Let there be dreams. Peace. Period.

___________________________________________________________________________

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

I was listening to the track “Let her Go” from the Passenger’s. I had heard it like, some 3 times on repeat now. It was sunny outside and the balcony door was half open to just wash the room with diffused sunlight. The fan was moving slowly and the song was playing on the laptop. I lay half on the chair and half on the bed. With such an ambiance everything that happened in the past 3-4 months starts reeling around in your brain.

This started happening to me too. By the time the song started for the third time, I was in a different world of my own. I could hear not, see the song. Without the band. There were faces from my life in the song. The scenes had changed to those where I roamed around some day. Let her go, by the 3^rd repeat became my life, my song. While the entire lyrics of the song can be easily felt by any guy from the 25-30 age bracket, my heart and brain stuck at the timestamp 1:24 min.

“Everything you touch, surely dies..”

I just put my hand on the space bar and paused the song. The room was silent at once with only the fan making the slow creek sound. I looked at the ceiling and pressed the space bar again and pressed the rewind arrow key. Repeated that line at least 6-7 times. Then paused the song again.

Every single syllable of the line made so much sense. Everything that we can touch, is meant to decay or die. Sounds ruthless and harsh, but so boldly true. The smartphone you are so much craving for, the 3BHK apartment you have taken a loan for, the lady you have been worrying about so much, your family your social relations, everything. The mountains, the hills, the rivers, the oceans, them too. The only difference is a few of them will go while we are here and some will go way after we are gone.

Does that mean we go and take a life of an ascetic. Not desire anything, not crave for anything? Probably not. If that was the case, humanity would cease to exist. We are all kept here so that we desire, we work for our dreams, run after it, settle down for sometime, choose another one and then resume the race. Every single target that you’ve been trying to achieve in your professional or academic life, every single personal crush you are running after to get a glimpse or a moment with or every single material or an object that has been on your bucketlist – none of these are going to last permanently. And why just these things, even you or me for that purpose are not going to last forever.

But, in the song, the way the author mentions, “everything you touch surely dies”, it also opens up a good and sweet truth also. Everything that we can touch will die, but everything that we can feel will not. Never ever die. The emotions you had for that crush way back in school, the feeling of the first flight experience, the first time you stepped into college, those feelings will never die.

So what does that tell us. I mean, yea, there have been multiple great people in this world who have told this message before but what comes  to my mind is that one sentence, that one phrase. People will go, feelings will stay. This is what the ultimate meaning of the entire gossip is. The entire gamut of the song or the line that we are stuck onto. Even a cycle that I long wanted and had a crush on way back in 2001, that cycle might never come or even go out of production, but the love for it will survive the zone of life. (Read that rant here: https://the11oclockdiary.home.blog/2019/09/12/rant-52-a-letter-to-hero-hawk/).

So, to all the things or people that I love or crave for or look up to, this is what I say today. I may be close to you, I might be far away, I might be on the block list or I might never ever come to your imaginations again, but the feeling or the respect that I have will survive. Survive forever. Materials are mortal, feelings are not.

I  put my hand on the space bar again and resumed the video. The room was lively again. I stood up and opened the door. Let the harsh sunlight come in. The day shone much brighter. Just like the thoughts in my mind. The song next in waiting was the Easton Corbin, A girl like you. Some songs are just meant to be played together. The AI technology of youtube in suggesting the songs is certainly improving.

Smiling, I shut the door again, shut the windows, put the light on. Increased the volume. Lay on the bed. And let the song play. The next one.

“…..Got loud guitars a little out of tune
But they ain’t got a girl like you
Naw, they don’t…”

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

“Welcome Sir”, the guard opened the door at the restaurant.

“Thanks”.

A restaurant staff soon turned up to me asking, “What table order you like Sir?”

“A corner table for one”.

“Fine Sir, this way”, he guided me to a corner where I could sit peacefully for an hour. Corners are bliss in this chaotic world.

“Place your order on this tablet kept below the table Sir, hope you’d like the experience”, He left saying this. I do not usually enter a fine dining high end setup, but this was a random check in today and I was liking it till now. The way everything unfolded – was just perfect!

Anyways I was going through the menu on the tab kept below the table and was trying to decrypt the dishes that sounded like Indian dishes but read a lot different.

Suddenly I heard a couple entering and another one standing from a table.

“Omg! Omg! Omg! Heyaaa! How are you! Long time since we met last time” and the lady hugged the other lady in ecstasy.

“Omg! Vartika. How are you! This is such a pleasant surprise!” the other lady responded. I am not sure it was Vartika because she replied in such an accent, it was difficult to decode the name, just by listening. I was trying to act normal by not looking at this “meet”, but couldn’t help listening.

With that hug, followed a 90 secondish conversation of how they were doing and why they came here and all. I could get most of the qualities of this restaurant in those 90s. It was much more like a small YouTube advertisement in which you need to compact the material in a small amount of time. It was a perfect meet, I thought. Such wonderful exchange of sophisticated words and such empathy in the hugs and the kisses. Must be too close a friend. I thought she will sit somewhere around her.

But, Alas! The lady, apparently Vartika, came and sat close to the table where I was sitting. It was a table where she could get the minimum view of the other lady. I was confused. And the moment they parted, all the emotions suddenly vaporised. Her face was blank as a white page. She was busy in her phone again with her partner (I really do not know if he was her husband) silently going through the tab to place the order).

It was weird for me. I mean, from where I come, I would first of all not show such exaggerated expressions when I met someone. If at all I did, I would really not be able to conceal that happiness of meeting an old pal in a split-second. It would stay on my face for some time, at least for 5-10 minutes. I guess this lady Vartika, maybe she met 10 such “old” friends every day and that has taken out the charm of meeting old pals from her life. Seemed like a burden to her. Lol!

I silently kept my head down, ordered my food and a black coffee. Spent some 35 minutes in solitude with light Mexican Music (I bet I did not understand anything apart from the music) and then left. Suddenly such artificial meetups and use of flowery and superficial language was on my mind. Wherever I saw, I saw the same thing. People to people interactions in today’s world was more of a show off of who cared more. That smile that is left over the face after you meet someone after a really long time was nowhere to be seen. I guess we are just trying to be superficially good to everyone. Without instance, without meaning. It’s good to be good to people. Empathy is really something the world needs in bulk today, but being good and being overtly superficial good with overloaded adjectives and added emotions. That is mockery for me.

I could apparently notice the same thing on my chats. People laugh 8x more than they would normally do in real life. I don’t know why. Just because tapping repeatedly on the silly emoji thrice doesn’t mean you send it thrice. One smiling emoji gives me the information that the person smiled. You don’t have to do that 8 times. Also, people use emoji’s like that plastic Spiderman mask I had when I was a kid. Any event, any function, any guest, any party, the same Spiderman mask would come when I was told to “entertain the guest”. Similarly, some people tend to use the same emoji everywhere, rendering me confused, as to whether what I just said was funny or amusing or worth a smile.

I mean, wait! Wait a minute. Understand this. Each emoji has a meaning. Emoji’s are there for you to explain your feeling in a graphical way instead of writing long mundane statements. Use it.  Do not exploit it. Don’t be like a kid trying to move the steering of a locked standing car. Don’t play with it. Conversations do carry a meaning. Do not make it a toy.

Some people give an excuse they do not know what the emoji means. Including me. Believe me its damn easy. You just need to do that little Google search and all the emoji’s meaning will surface out in no time. I did it myself. Today. I hope you all do it. As soon as possible.

OMG’s and emoji’s both are there for our personal expressions. They help make our conversations better, livelier and more humane. Do not exploit it in the name of God! Please.

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

“Should I throw this? I guess the ink in the refill is over”, she said.

“Mind you, don’t even touch that thing. I love that pen and that is special to me”, I shouted at my sister.

“Eh, what special. This 3 rupee pen! Lol! Papa is going to come and throw this anyway. Do hell with your 3-rupee special pen! Huh”, she threw the pen on the bed and ran towards the kitchen.

I have a weird habit. A habit which I am desperately trying to close on and move forward to my new life target of de-cluttering things. Yes, this is the recent life aim I have developed. To cut down the un-necessary things as much as possible. Keep only as much as required, not desired. But there is one big impediment in achieving this and that is this attachment with things or rather the memories attached to them.

This pen I just mentioned above was gifted to me by a kid in an orphanage when I went to celebrate one of my birthdays. We had a birthday planned there and  one of kids, knowing that college-going students were supposed to come for the event, managed to get a pen – a 3 rupee pen, the one without a refill. He gifted that to me. I mean, to the world it might be a pen, but to me it was something far far bigger. I have several other things, like the Gee ( a rubber-bee) that I have mentioned in the Rant 30 (https://the11oclockdiary.home.blog/2019/08/21/rant-30-the-gee-that-keeps-me-writing/) or the pencil that I mentioned in the Rant 59 (https://the11oclockdiary.home.blog/2019/09/19/rant-59-the-severing-of-the-living-nail/). I do own scores of such “seemingly unimportant” things with me. It is a really some task for me to do away with these things, with most of them either getting withered on their own or are lost over a period of time.

Infact, I still have my first Nokia 1600, Nokia 2700 C, Nokia X2 and my new addition to damaged phone, Redmi Note 3. It will always be difficult for me to throw away these things. I know it’s an erroneous attitude and I must find a way to get rid of this. Because one can’t keep collecting such objects and moving on for the rest of their lives. And to be honest, I am trying. I am really trying hard to do away with things with a thumb rule that if I haven’t used it in the last 1 year, I am possibly not going to use it anymore. But all said and taken, it is difficult.

It is difficult to not see or hear the object speak to you. It is difficult not to hear the object saying, “You’re throwing me just because my work is done, eh?” The analogy that my brain establishes with the objects, whether I am going to do away with people in my life once their utilities are served over? Absolutely not. Then why these objects? Why can’t they be a part of my memory instead? Just like the Slam books of the High school, why can’t they just be there in a trunk that I can carry along with me? I am possibly not going to move around like a banjara for the rest of my life. Giving a 3 feet by 2 feet space won’t be tough really.

Maybe on some depressing day, I can just go through these old memories – not in photographs or videos, but the objects themselves. The small objects – a pencil, a pen, a small rubber bee, a coffee packet and a Cadbury bar from 2019, a small elephant brought from Sri Lanka, a small earthen glass that I made at a potters store and multiple such small objects. They are not just objects or things, they are pockets of memories. Each one associating a 1000 memories, hundreds of evening walks, tens of words, multiple emotions – happiness, pain, excitement and what not.

Overcoming this habit is tough. I am still firm on de-cluttering. But I am going to find a way of preserving these small objects of happiness and memories.

Somehow, I don’t know how. For the love of memories.

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

It was around 7 this evening. I was sitting in my balcony with the radio playing on the phone. It was some good song they played. I don’t remember it though. I was sitting below the door frame, right where my room ends and the balcony starts. Being between 2 different zones always appeals to me, somehow. While I was listening to the songs overlooking the hostel canteen, it came to me that the nails were overgrowing and that I must get rid of them.

I tilted the chair behind, without actually getting up the chair, and looked for the nail-cutter in the niche besides the door. It was there. I reached out my hand for it and grabbed it. There was something else besides it. A pencil with lots of rubber bands tied carefully to it. I brought both these things and brought the chair back to straight position. This pencil has been a trunk of memories, a closet of emotions. Someone very special had taken the effort and put around 50 rubber bands one on top of the other, carefully. It finally took the shape of a spherical rubber ball right at the centre of the length of the pencil. Ah! How small non-living objects sometimes become, more appealing than many living humans from your life. I mean I can easily trade this pencil for many people in my life. Lol!

I kept this pencil aside and started cutting my nails. It was already turning dark and those anecdotes from my grandmother that the nails must not be cut after its dark came to my mind. I was getting amused at the fact how some of my friends still followed this irrespective of the fact, that they know it was because of the availability of the light that it was prohibited, lest you cut a part of your finger or the extended nail. Now, under a 14W LED bulb it hardly matters if it’s 8am or 7 pm.

I started with my thumb. I usually do. The thumb is the most hardworking and the functional part of the hand. It also is the most emotional finger. When you caress someone, it is usually the thumb that takes all the responsibility of the taking the caressing to the micro level. When you’re wiping a tear off or just telling that a kid has chubby cheeks, it’s the thumb that comes to the action. My thumb nails are a little dip into the skin at the corners. I need to be a little careful every time.

Then coming to my index finger, I arranged my posture again. The index finger requires added precision and care. One, because you’re using the left hand to hold the nailcutter, second because the index finger makes a very weird angle with the nailcutter which makes it difficult to operate. While I was trying to finish off the edge, I by mistake, cut a little deep into it. Into the zone of the living nail.

Ah man! It was painful. So painful, I nearly stood up. While standing up the pencil fell down. By down I mean, on the ground floor below the balcony. I threw the nail cutter on the bed and rushed down, lest some one else took it or tore the rubber bands apart. As far as I remember, I could not feel the pain of the severed nail when I ran for the pencil. I have nearly lost this pencil once and found with great difficulty. I cannot afford to lose it again. I grabbed  that pencil and came up. While I secured the pencil with me, the burning sensation of the nail came upon me. I went and washed my finger with the cold water. Didn’t help.

I came back to the balcony and sat on the chair, but somehow the mood of cutting nails further was gone. I took the chair inside. It was 7:25pm. I was sitting inside my room with a severed nail and the pencil infront of me. Harming living nails hurt you more. Anything that is alive and you chop it off, it hurts. Living leaves secrete fluids when you break them, beings eject pain and cry when some living part is taken away and our lives also undergo excruciating pain and agony when someone important has to be taken out for some reason or the other. Ah, man! This nail hurts a lot even while typing.

I kept my finger in cold water for sometime. I really hope staying cold will help me figure out how to do away with the pain. Thankfully, the pencil is fine. Memories must be intact. Come what may. My grandmother’s anecdotes came back to me. Do not cut your nails after it’s dark. I guess I will take a little care the next time. 

Also, this may seem like a weird out of the way data, but today is the 59^th rant. 59 = 2 times 29.5. 29.5 is a special number as it is the length or the duration of the lunar cycle. The moon takes one full ascent and one full descent in 29.5 days. I will share the relevance of these 29.5 days some other day.

Till then, take care.

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

Look up!

What do you see?

Stars? A Moon? Black sky?

Do you see the Saturn and the Jupiter close to the moon? Which one of that shines more? It’s difficult but you will be able to make out if you look too closely or maybe with a good lens.

Most of us see the sky this way. Even I do. Mostly.

There is another POV (point of view) to the sky. For me that sky means the larger umbrella which holds the important figurines in my life that I look up to. It’s like that banana pie where you put in your best resins and just the correct amount of sugar.

There are these people who are the most important ones in your life. The ones whom you look up to in distress. The ones you look up for a hug or for a moment of comfort. They are the stars in your sky. They are the ones who don’t really heat up your life or bring unusual changes, but just stay there for you to look up to them when required.

Some have many stars, some have less. Depends on how much or to what degree you approach for someone’s help when in distress. People who have really solid pillars for support when they’re down in distress have really bright stars in their skies. Some people do have a few stars but they, kind of keep changing. They don’t remain constant. Such stars are the ones which are distant, weak and feeble in vision. They are there to look up but you don’t really get much in sight.

Its important to retain your stars in the sky. The best ones. I really hope someone told me this when I was a kid. I too, had a few (not many) stars on my sky. I never really had many stars for that matter. But those who stayed, went away soon. Even today, my sky is studded with a few stars which shine bright and high since my birth. There are stars which are also brighter, a little less though, for which I really wish they’d stay. Their presence itself is encouraging and motivating. I do not usually have ways and means of telling them to stay, even if in one corner, on my sky. It is important to speak up and tell those stars, that they’re the quintessential components of your sky.

It’s easier said than done. Because the moment you tell them they’re important, there are chances that you will be overwritten. Overwritten by some other rationale. By some other point of view. By some other interest. Hence, it becomes critical to express this in a way which does not hurt your interest. It keeps your star there and makes way for your gratitude too.

I remember I told a pencil once, that she was the only one I could look up to. For answers when I was in trouble, for guidance and navigation when I was lost, for empathy when I was hurt. I could see the pencil smile through her lead. That pencil is still somewhere there in my sky. I still look up to her.

Recently, there has been a new addition to my sky. It’s the Gee. ( I have introduced her in one of my rants ).

https://the11oclockdiary.home.blog/2019/08/21/rant-30-the-gee-that-keeps-me-writing/

The Gee sits there on my sky, like a little cute angel, watching me over. I know she is destined to leave one day too. Bees are supposed to hover over flowers, humm over them for sometime, sing and dance. The flower thinks the bee is in love with him. But the Bee is just a phase. It will go. I still have her high on my sky. Like many others, she will go too.

I see up and I see a pencil, a scooter, a cycle and a few consumable goods out there in my sky. These are my stars. The “people” I look towards when I am low, in distress or sad. They make me happy, inspire me, pump me up and put me on the track again, mostly! I also do have a few humans out there. J They are supposed to be there. They are the closest ones I will ever have – my parents and close family and friends.

But I really fear the sky won’t be same without the Gee. I wish I could tell how much the Gee star meant.

I still am looking at the sky. There are a few clouds. All looks dusky and smoky. Nothing is clear. I guess its better the clouds stay. I won’t know which stars left.

Always Ranting, Rantzaada. 

Ever saw that dream where you are falling down flat in a whirling spiral downwards? Ever felt a whirlpool pulling you down irrespective of all your efforts of trying to come out? Doesn’t it give chills and goose bumps? It was the first dream of my life that are etched into my mind so perfectly that I now remember the routes, the color of the routes perfectly. I can nearly sketch all those routes.

I have seen this dream so many times. Sometimes multiple occurrences in the same night. I have never really tried to think what really means out of it. I deny the fact that dreams mean nothing. Dreams, while you sleep (if at all you dream while you sleep) are an abstract construct of the shit that is there in your mind. Anything that your brain or any of the senses have gone through or around in the day or recent past will become the recipe for the construct. The dreams may or may not be really attached to you or someone you know. It’s a combination basically – of different components thrown around randomly in your brain. Imagine going to a junk and collecting bits and pieces from an unknown source of junk and trying to make an installation. That’s what our brain does with our dreams. At times, the dreams can be similar looking, with familiar locations and known faces and at other times, it can just be like a random duck as big as a dinosaur (and that does not remain cute anymore.

The whirlpool dream especially freaks me out a little more, because they re-occurances, I have noticed recently happen at those times when I am more emotionally unstable. When I fighting something or someone or my self within. I try to see where the whirlpool ends, what happens when I finally fall to the base. But neither do I fall off to the base, nor do I stop spiraling down. It’s just like a permanent fall below. This is creepy and mysterious.

What is your brain trying to convey to you when this happens. Of course, this is not a meaningless event. I know the world scientists are still trying to find out what a dream means, but here I am talking about figuring it out on an individual scale. Just for me.

At this phase of life, like right now – I am struggling to go past a few things and to inculcate a few. The things I need to move past or beyond are way more complicated and difficult to deal with than the ones I need to inculcate. Maybe this is spiral my life has created for me this time and hence the re-occurrences of the dream. The after-effects of this dream are really horrific. They leave you panting for breath, full of sweat and sometimes also choking. This worsens if you are in a dark single occupancy hostel room.

There is really no way I am left to try to overcome the dream. I have done all types of tricks and tips to keep this dream away but this doesn’t work. I guess its my brains way of hinting to be strong for an upcoming pending event. Lets see, fingers-crossed!

I have heard from many friends that they too get these spiraling downwards and falling into the whirlpool type dreams. I guess millions across the world might be having these – irrespective of country, race or language. Dreams don’t get the boundaries. They don’t recognize religions and other petty divisions. Dreams come to the richest and the poorest alike. Maybe just the extent changes, but the dreams are all the same.

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

I wish I could just say this and move on.  

I wish I could just select a few faces in my life. Put a closure on all the others and move ahead with my work. I wish there were parameters or controls which would help me control my conversations or just block them altogether. I mean let’s say, I am sitting in a café having coffee, alone and someone just barges in. I wish I could simply ask that person not to sit with me or even come close to me. I really wish!

Life takes weird turns, it really does! From a person who ones sought people to speak to, I am now a person who tries to keep away from unwanted discussions and conversations. Maybe because I am no more interested in arguments or justifications as per se. I also rarely want to meet people now or go out with someone because I hate how all trips have turned into Instagram trips. I do not wish to go to dinners and lunch with people because me eating with my hands brings a disgust on most people’s faces.

It is mid-September of 2019. I do not know an iota about Marvels or the DC universe. I do not have any idea of the crazy world of the seasons like GoT, Friends, Sacred Games, The Office and other 1000 “brilliant” seasons. I have no idea (again) of Counter Strike, DOTA or PubG (not even the mobile version). I have seen a few Hollywood movies but I really can count them on my fingers. I am also not an avid book/novel reader – not English, not Hindi, not any other language. I don’t know a piece about the soccer world.

I may not be your best party partner because I don’t know liquor brands, I don’t know the best smoke brands, I might not be able to tell you where to score from or even so bad I might not be able to help you with your tequila shots, because I do not drink and smoke. Not that you do and its bad, but just that I don’t. I am also a vegetarian and that is another mark off the rolls. I can also be a bad person for a company to a fine dine, because all I have eaten in my life is mostly street food or home cooked food and I really do not know how that difficult looking named dish would taste. I am really bad at it.

And I agree that these (mostly) are not things to be proud of. When you move around places, you are expected to learn and try diversity among different cuisines, different expressions mediums, teach some and learn some and unlearn some. But somehow, I am a person with one closed box. I am very choosy with what goes inside my life favourites and I keep it there in the box. I am not the one who checks the latest 30 of the music player, but the one who goes to the saved playlist section.

Call me an idiot. Call me a pervert. Call me orthodox. Call me weird. Taken! 

It’s not that I have not tried into things. Believe me, I really tried watching Hollywood movies – I really like a few and there are certain type of movies I will any day like to see. But somehow I don’t feel the same excitement with most of them. Seasons and games were distanced at my choice so that is okay for me. Similar reasons exists for most other anomalies.

Basically I am living in an age 25 years before my time. Weird as it may sound. Maybe I really sound adamant at this. I might sound as if I take pride on all of this – but believe me, it’s a condition. A mental condition. Something I really cannot come out, or maybe it will be really difficult even if I someday try to.

It’s nothing I am writing to offend someone or put someone down. Just that it is. Just that the entire gamut of life enjoyment has come down to a small zone. For me and for people around me.

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

I have traveled for more than 2500 km today and there are these days when you just want the travel to get over at a good note. You are tired, sick and bored at the same time. Changing flights and multiple connecting cab travels break your pristine Sunday mood. Sunday (for a person like me) does not remain a day zero anymore and specially when you end up in a noisy restaurant in the ultra-crowded CP in New Delhi on a Sunday afternoon.

Cities or “metro’s” like New Delhi make you realise one thing for sure – that the amount of effort and money people spend on making sure they look different is immense. I mean everyone I see around looks astonishingly perfect. You know, like those close to perfect Instagram or social media stories where everything from the hair to the sandal or the shoes feel just more than perfect. The manners, the etiquette, the smiles, the “aww’s” and everything else. The holding of hands, the smiles, the “your order Sir?”, the “Thank you sir, please come again” and the classic, “ How can I help you sir?”.

False pretentions and zero percent truth. Zero percent genuine feelings. Welcome to the Big City.

What I realise is that smaller cities and villages have people residing in them, while larger cities like these have moving marks as residents. 5-10 different masks for different duration of the day. Masks for early morning, mask for the travel to office, mask for the subordinate, a different one for the colleague and the boss and so on.. keep on increasing this list till the end of the day and the next day repeats. What you see are just faces. You don’t see personalities. Just faces. Similar faces, similar tastes, similar experiences, similar expressions, same pouts, LOL!

Bigger cities are like the glass bottles – the transparent ones! They take the color and the taste of the fluid while the smaller ones are like the earthern pots, which do not only contain and accept but also leaves an imprint of itself in the fluid. The aroma of the earthern pot. Isnt it something almost all of us like? I have a similar feeling when I go to a smaller town or a village. It leaves a part of itself in you and that is etched in the memory.

So, when big town kids say,” I hate humans”, they might be (in most cases) referring to the faces and not the people themselves. They would have, infact, never met the real person. In smaller cities, the hatred for people does not widely exist. Because, they know you can hate a person’s particular character trait but not the whole person on a whole.

Over the years I have started to develop an acute hatred for the synthetic behaviour and nature of the biggest cities around us. Anyways, by the time this is published I will be back to a lesser complex city. A tier II or III city or atleast a less noisy one. A city with 1.2 lakh people is definitely better than 2018 crore moving faces.

Always Ranting, Rantzaada.

“…I asked her never to repeat it again. She said she would. It was something she had always done and she would continue doing it. I requested her to think again as her actions were hurting me and everything between us was coming to a standstill. Neither of us stepped back, I was adamant on my part and she was too. We were both hardcore competitors, so between us, a face off was natural. In fact this competition was what brought us closer. Neither of us stepped back, yet again. It was time for a closure.”

This is a common closure for so many of the modern day relationships. Ego clashes – clash of thoughts – non compromising behavior and non-union of thoughts have wrecked so many relationships. At the base of each of these wrecks is just a three letter word – ego.

Relationships usually begin with a five letter word- crush, get concreted with a four letter word – love and end with a three letter word- ego. After thinking a lot on the term “ego” and its measurable effects, I presumed (without any evidence, of course) that the total ego between two people is the product of individual egos of both.

So, an ego 10 of a person A and another ego 15 of a person B leads to an ego of 150 in totality. That’s where the ‘product’ or ‘multiplicative’ relation becomes the villain. But, the ‘multiplicative’ relation also gives a fare chance to minimize the damage.

If in a relationship of two people- father + son, brother + brother, brother + sister, boss + employee, husband + wife, boyfriend + girlfriend etc – even if one of them decreases their ego to zero or even manages to come close to zero, the entire ego turns to become zero finally. Isn’t that a pretty good observation to begin with?

I really do not have any means to prove any of the above mentioned assumptions, but in a world where we assume that a particular product will improve our face complexions, may be this assumption can be tried once too. It is indeed not difficult to bring one’s ego down to zero. Just stay quiet and absorb. Just listen to what the person in front has to say. Make sure he or she is heard. Listen to understand, not to reply. That is it.

This thought came to me in 2008, when I was going through the first known individual rough phase of my life and I was also closing on my board examinations. It was only then that I realized that only if the total ego was a product, there was a chance we could someday reduce it to zero.

If you believe in this assumption and think it might work effectively, do try it. Share this formula with others; you never know you might just share the right thing at the right time.

Always ranting, Rantzaada.