Tuesday, September 27, 2011
"It is lovely, when I forget all birthdays, including my own, to find that somebody remembers me."- Ellen Glasgow
So it is my birthday again. But for some reason the very fact that I am turning nineteen refuses to delight me. I dream of acheiving great heights, of falling in love, of getting drunk and throwing up on a stranger but at the same time I dont want to grow up. Why? I don't know.
Living in a new city (not so new any more) has its own advantages. For one it is your chance to start all over. No one will be judgemental, no one will tell you what is good for you and whats not. No one will ask about that teacher who humiliated you on your last school day, no one will laugh or smirk at you because you stutter while you speak. No one. But as you start adujusting in the same place it brings back memories of the past.
Your trying to build an image. Lets call it self improvement. And you would obviously want people to like you for the fact that you are jovial, adorable and have two left foot. Guess what they already do. What they don't know is that inside the same person lies a soul which for different reasons is slowing withering away. They think its a "mood swing", but you obviously know better. And then comes your birthday.
Golly jee!! A day to make merry and rejoice your own existence. But what if you are not so proud of it? Your newly made friends expect to adorn your face with chocolate cake which they lovingly baked/bought for you while you attend the calls of your near and dear ones. But what if no one calls? It is the stroke of midnight and your phone doesn't ring, not for a single time. Oh cmon your parents are getting old. They will definitely wish you in the morning. Your brother? Darn! He must have been really busy with his work. The few friends you had?? They will TEXT you, anytime soon. And right at that momment you realize, its not your birthday, it is your existence you are scared of. You are petrified that one day people will just forget that there was a girl named "Amrita" or Semma or Riya or whatever. You will just cease to exist.
Call me paranoid but I live in fear of that day. I don't know whether it is the case with other people as well. Even when I don't tell anyone about it, I invariably start expecting certain things from people whom I love,and I fear that they might not feel the same way. That fear is what drives me, that fear is what makes me cry behind closed doors. I am insecure and I fear that this feeling of losing people won't ever go. That is why my birthday, somehow, doesn't cheer me up. But I hope it will someday. Till then, let me end with this:
"In the midst of winter, I finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer."- Albert Camus
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
What can we take on trust
in this uncertain life? Happiness, greatness,
pride - nothing is secure, nothing keeps.
I tried desperately not to look at him. I tried to hide my tears. I failed, miserably. Somehow I felt that he will come by, console me, and give me a tight hug. Nothing happened. Nothing ever did. My mind was hounded by sudden flashbacks. His funny yet sensitive face was all I could see when I closed my eyes. As I walked back in the rain, all I could imagine was that he will come running like a bollywood hero, grab me, and make my pain vanish into thin air.
“What was I thinking?”- I wondered. What was I thinking when I became friends with him. What was I thinking when I let him open my hair, cup my face and plant a gentle kiss on my lips? What did he ever do to deserve any of that? What was I thinking when I lied to my mother about an assignment when all I did was get drunk in his filthy apartment and run around stark naked while he videotaped my antics on his expensive camera phone? What was I thinking?
I am a debutante porn star, what a joke! I am sure every guy in this college has the damned video which might later assist him in making sweet love to himself. Why God, why me? I shouted. A bisexual replied from somewhere, -“ ooooo…..babbbyy….fuck thy lord…fuck him…fuck him.” I looked around, disgruntled. Not a single person wanted to talk to me. I am the scandalous whore. And Vikram? Oh, that bastard has a new chick sucking his cock now.
I am not a princess after all. And there obviously isn’t any man who would have the balls to like me, cause I have already “given my flower” to someone whose presence has shaken the core of my very existence. To hell with everything. I close my eyes, again. I am in a missionary school where my principal faints after I utter a rather commonplace expletive.
“Don’t let the devil get the better of you my child.”- She says after coming back to her senses.
I replied nonchalantly, -“Guess what sister, He already did.”
Monday, September 12, 2011
"I arise in the morning torn between a desire to improve the world and a desire to enjoy the world. This makes it hard to plan the day. "
I was standing in front of the lift with a bunch of Juniors and a senior. It seemed as if the boisterous lot were taking the seniors "case". Reason being he was dating one of their classmate who coincidentally (Read: To my horror) was also part of the same group. I don't know what was so funny that the girl kept falling on the guy at the interval of every micro second. I was appalled and amused at the same time when the girl decided to show her friends the love bite (er!) she had assiduously gifted her boyfriend with. The poor guy was so embarrassed that I could almost sympathize with the fella. Later in the lift(where the guy had chose not to enter) I wondered what is all this fuss about anyway?
Is it okay to act pricey just because you are teenager whose hormones wreck havoc every time you meet anyone of the opposite sex? Where exactly does the fun part end and commitment come in? I know that I have absolutely no right to comment about other people's relationships and the choices they make but there is this jittery feeling inside me which somehow I can't do away with. I am not anti sex or physical love or whatever they call it these days but somehow flaunting "it" doesn't go down too well with me. I mean since when did love become a commodity, a status symbol, a cult which would make you the next "in" thing in your immediate surrounding.
I know that you are wondering as to why I think so much. May be because I find it difficult to let go . May be I am too old fashioned, too prejudiced and I am being highly unreasonable when I start judging people on such grounds. I am in a moral quandary and I know that. I don't expect the society to change for me, but I hope certain things do change, for the better. Who decides what is better? You, Me all of Us. Again, I am not against infatuated teenagers eagerly waiting to profess their unconditional affection, I am just saying that love deserves something better. Henry Ellis had once said,- "All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on." But then when do you hold on and when should you let go??