tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15799545456883389582024-03-25T05:02:22.418+05:30Sprinkles Of StardustDivyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07478829599969479017noreply@blogger.comBlogger124125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1579954545688338958.post-69780641925318802302019-05-25T00:34:00.001+05:302019-05-25T00:34:35.562+05:30Sleepless<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">She tossed uneasily in a
restless slumber. Each night she retired to bed wondering what exhausted her
more – the nightmares that did not let her sleep soundly, or the nightmarish
reality she found herself living every morning? Perhaps, this whole life had
been one big mistake. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">“If you wish to call it
that, at least acknowledge it as a beautiful mistake,” he said.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Her eyelids rolled
upwards, and then she rolled them back in – she really was in no mood to open
her eyes. “When did you come?” she asked. “I’ve missed you; you know!” <br />
He looked at her serene face that now showed the hint of a faint smile. “I’m
right here. Why don’t you just open your eyes.” <br />
She felt him crawl into bed and settling down beside her. “I’ve really missed
this,” she sighed as she allowed herself to be spooned. It had been a tiring day,
but she knew that he already knew that. He always knew everything. And he
always accused her of the same. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">She allowed her mind to
travel back to the time of their parting. He was the wanderer on a mission to
discover new lands. She was the North Star meant to stay fixed. Even if it was
in a sky of chaos and muddle. It hadn’t taken him long to realize that no
matter how far he went, his compass always pointed in her direction. She was
still the point around which his whole world turned. Yet she knew she had to
push him away. He was meant for greater things. She too had a different
purpose. “It won’t matter,” she had said. “Life’s short, and we’re only here for
a brief period of time. Let’s just live our purpose, collect these experiences,
and meet on the other side?” It had seemed to be the most sensible thing to do
at that time. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">As she snuggled up to him,
she mumbled, “I wish you were really here. Things are just so easy when you’re
around. When I’m lying next to you, in your arms, time seems to have come to a
standstill. There really is nothing more I find myself desiring out of this
life.” <br />
“I needed this too,” he said, gently kissing her forehead. “You’re my favourite
place to go to when my mind needs peace.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Dreaming of being in the
other’s arms, both had a good night’s sleep after ages. The nomad in him wondered
how the cosmos managed to travel the world every single minute, every nano-second,
every single day. What from him had travelled through into her world even after
he’d left? And what part of her had still not left his side? Did anyone ever
really leave? Was there any place in the Universe where they could just park
themselves forever? Did such a place even exist?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">“Not yet,” smiled the
Devil. “And, perhaps, never,” and once again, sucked them into the world of
nightmares. But it didn’t really matter anymore. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Californian FB",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">“Everything is an illusion,” her
voice served as a reminder calling out to him even amidst those nightmares.<br />
“And that’s no excuse to not experience everything,” he chuckled and dozed off thinking
of her – his favourite illusion.</span></div>
</div>
Divyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07478829599969479017noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1579954545688338958.post-39250655603183848372018-09-21T21:33:00.001+05:302018-09-21T21:34:18.808+05:30Universal Dilemmas<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
The stars burned like the memories of brighter days, light years away from when I now drive past in my car. Do they represent a map of beautiful moments from my past or a future without? A dilemma perpetually stands before us in the guise of two roads not taken - a divaricate, bi-forked future, an only-seemingly simply choice that keeps us up days and nights. Do we let go of our pasts or hold on to it and make peace with the future? Or do we hold on to both with what is left of a thin string, frayed at both ends? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
None of us have the capacity to wait in the anticipation. The stars have seen what is yet to happen and we cannot. These trials and tribulations in life make us and break us. We have no choice but to talk to the moon on our many solitary nights together, as we take the walk and pause before the roads in front of us and take none.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We live lives riddled with dilemmas, problems, and sorrow. And whom do we blame for these dilemmas that span space and time? <br />
The Universe, right?<br />
We blame the indefinable Universe. Could we ever possibly define the same? What really is the Universe, and what is Life?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What is the Universe but a swirling eddy of moments and people lost forever in the blink of an eye?<br />
Gone.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What is the Universe but a vast sandbox surviving because of the entropy of dancing sand particles?<br />
We’re dust to dust, them and us; chaotic, but in peace.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What is Life but an archaic spider-web perfectly spun in the riddled lace and taffeta of punch drunk love?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Oh, Life. It hangs on by a thin, thin thread, trying to stitch up the cuts that time made on its arms.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What is the Sunshine but a handprint on our hearts?<br />
What is the Rain but these very crocheted hearts coming apart?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
The thread lies not in the hands of the puppeteer, or maybe so. Break free. The loose ends of the life you spun are to be rewritten by you. We thread life up and reel it in.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What is a Story but a beautiful lie; a horrific truth; a beginning, middle and an end to the secret garden, stolen books, and arcane memories?<br />
Volatile, yet liberating, eccentric, but a thrill like no other.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What is Nature but poetry in motion?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The lightning, in its very psychedelic nature, sets fire to the menacing thunderstorm and blossoms into the bloom of spring,<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What is Luck but an unanswered wish for fortuitousness originating from the depths of our unfathomable minds?<br />
Poor Luck - always blamed for us getting lost in this dazzling maze of life, building living graves for our hollowed out corpses.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What is the Universe but a treasure hunt for a treasure that’s already yours?<br />
Peter Pan searched not-too-far; the ticking crocodile still awaits Captain Hook.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What is the Universe but sheer indefinable beauty in all its mosaic jigsaw puzzle glory?<br />
It may be incomplete and broken, but it is beautiful and unimaginably perfect.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
What is the Universe but You?<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
Divyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07478829599969479017noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1579954545688338958.post-79915499060427543742017-11-26T01:36:00.001+05:302017-11-26T01:36:55.409+05:30Lights<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRXgO-30B_2d0nlX5phynOUsrwnGZ_akdJucms6-mYyHU9ZUyWfcGliQLzx9aRBQk2ZUtdUkpCdj8KsLZIsf5ph8RtiE6oE4kz_ks1mnPl1EvtvFKKI-oP-f1b6p3J0tJ9vK1RFwe-umCD/s1600/lights.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRXgO-30B_2d0nlX5phynOUsrwnGZ_akdJucms6-mYyHU9ZUyWfcGliQLzx9aRBQk2ZUtdUkpCdj8KsLZIsf5ph8RtiE6oE4kz_ks1mnPl1EvtvFKKI-oP-f1b6p3J0tJ9vK1RFwe-umCD/s320/lights.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Sitka Text"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Sitka Text"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">In the course of our life, on one fine, seemingly ordinary day, we cross paths with someone with whom we feel a bizarre sort of connection. For some inexplicable reason, we feel more attached to this stranger than anyone else. The stranger feels closer to us than our closest family member, and even more dependable than our best friend. And after that, life is no more the same…<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Sitka Text"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">The stranger almost feels like our guardian angel. Everything is so perfect that surely only the Gods could have sent them! There is some truth in this – they definitely are in our life for a Higher purpose. Perhaps, to teach us an important lesson, or to just protect us during a difficult phase. Worries just seem to evaporate in their presence, and there isn’t any sorrow so great that it doesn’t fade away in the comforts of their arms. We put our complete faith in them and even if there are times when trouble does brew up in this La La Land, everything clears up in due time. <br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Sitka Text"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">However, it’s always wise to remember that they aren’t ours for keeps no matter how strongly we grow to love them. They may enter our lives as Saviours, but they cannot do this job all their lives. At some point, instead of blindly submitting to them as our protectors, we need to take the reins in our hands and learn the art of saving ourselves. That is when the process is fully complete and their purpose fulfilled. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Sitka Text"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">After fulfilling their purpose, they may just exit our lives and become strangers to us again. That will hurt. With the mask of the guardian angel off and the halo lifted, one may wonder what was so special about them that made us give them the power to hurt us and leave us in disarray. <br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Sitka Text"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">If ever such a thought crops up, remind yourself that you are walking towards the wrong end of the tunnel. While the whole world may appear bleak and dark, and you feel that you cannot see any light around you as your continue plunging into the darker depths of the tunnel, there will always be light coming from you. Never forget that. Even if you cannot see it, everyone else can. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Sitka Text"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Sitka Text"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">We are all lights leading the way for one another. It is the light in us that enables us to see the light in others. If ever you find yourself being immersed in a world of darkness, remember all you need to do is to look within – your inner light is all that you need to light up the whole world!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Sitka Text"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Sitka Text"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Keep Shining!</span></div>
</div>
Divyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07478829599969479017noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1579954545688338958.post-81584335357764771952017-08-22T16:27:00.000+05:302017-08-23T15:21:38.738+05:30A New Tomorrow<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">She looks so calm and composed while others around her bustle like crazy, headless chickens, as if there’s nothing in the world that could possibly ruffle her feathers. A bubble of happiness, making everyone feel that there’s nothing happening in their world that cannot be solved, he thinks he knows everything there is to know about her from the very moment he set his eyes on her, but everything he thinks he knows is incorrect. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Chattering nineteen to the dozen, she raises her brows and stares into the distance, only for a moment, but the mask slips and he notices. Once again, like an old video cassette, flashes of his past start playing in front of him in reverse mode, and finally some things start making sense – as if suddenly the missing pieces of his jigsaw puzzle had unravelled themselves before him, and he actually knows now where those pieces fit. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In that moment, in her, he sees himself again, and only remembers the bygone days…What he was, who he wanted to be, and how passionate he had been about fulfilling his purpose. Unfortunately, life got in the way. He sat in silence, contemplating about all that had happened, moving within as diverse thoughts and ideas filled his head to the brim, probing through the good and bad memories of his life that was now coloured with each and every experience that he’d had.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">He stares at her</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> and realizes that she has gone back to wearing her mask. But he just cannot do that anymore. Nor will he let her do that anymore. And as he arrives at that decision, with her, his tomorrows begin. </span></div>
</div>
Divyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07478829599969479017noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1579954545688338958.post-45770059301593062322017-07-26T00:13:00.000+05:302017-07-26T00:31:17.081+05:3013 Reasons Why Not<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">To you who felt that the screams of your pain remained unheard,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">And to you who needed a corpse to remember that you’re still alive,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Welcome to your tape…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<b><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Tape 1, Side A <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<b><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I know life is not your favourite colour at the moment, and you are seeing everything in black and white, but honestly, even seeing things from just a black-and-white filter is better than being blind. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Personally, no colour will ever be brighter and purer than black and white. And black and white always merge to form shades of grey. It’s not easy recognizing people as warriors fighting a battle every single day, doing the best they can to not let their dark side overshadow their good, but everyone is a fighter. So are you! We’re all fighting battles every day. It’s alright if some days we don’t emerge as winners. Tomorrow we shall try again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<b><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Tape 1, Side B</span></b><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<b><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The world is not simple enough to just accommodate black, white and shades of grey. Everything began with a white palette and then you were handed the paint-brush. Even if you have lost sight of it, the paint-brush is still with you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">It’s still your life, your easel, your soul. Do it up with any and as many colours as you want! How you choose to paint your life is completely your choice!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
<b>Tape 2, Side A</b><br />
<br />Do you remember that clear night when you lay in bed and stared out of your window, gazing at the stars shining in the sky? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Stars are nothing but carefully bandaged lights, aren’t they? Just mark all the memories that hurt you, so that they can become the stars that enchant you…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<b><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Tape 2, Side B<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<b><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Stargazing in the city is a rare feat. Just paint your bedroom ceiling with the starry skies and the heavens above! You can then live under a dazzling sky every night. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Or just get out of your room and paint the town red. Red would suit the town more than your wrists, my love! <br />
<br />
<b>Tape 3, Side A</b><br />
<br />It’s alright to question. It’s alright to wonder. It’s okay to just talk. Shout if you must, scream if you need to, but please speak. I know you don’t want them to hear you, but there is always someone who’s ready to listen. There is always someone who’ll want to listen to you, not to a map of cassette tapes. You are more than a map of crisscrossed pain pathways. You are so much more than that!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<b><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Tape 3, Side B<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<b><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I know you think that you are not enough. You feel you did not matter enough for them to save. No matter how hard you tried, you never were enough, even when you did your very best. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Guilt is not what you need to satiate, honey. You matter immensely. You are so much more than just ‘enough’. <br />
<br />
<b>Tape 4, Side A<o:p></o:p></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We’ve all had some hot chocolate friends. And then there were the caffeine-addicts. You’ll also come across the white-collared whiskey-drinkers or the ones who are perennially on a juice-cleanse. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">People come and go in pairs, threes, and fours, and so does pain. No one is meant to last forever. Even pain will not last forever. <br />
<br />
<b>Tape 4, Side B<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Life is filled with joy and the chaos of happiness. Life is also sad from time to time. How else would we be able to appreciate the good times if we haven’t ever experienced anything bad? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Life’s a mixture of good and bad times. That’s just what life is. Life cannot be used as an excuse to not love yourself. Life cannot be used as an excuse to just give up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<b><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Tape 5, Side A</span></b><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
<br />Life is like a novel with many chapters. Some good, some bad. There are some great stories in the book of your life. Your laughter is like music to the ears, every time you speak, it’s like poetry oozing out of your mouth, your entire mind is a museum and every thought of yours is a work of art. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">If only you saw yourself through my eyes…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<b><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Tape 5, Side B<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<b><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You are so beautiful! Crimson love is present in your blood, and it is love that flows through your veins, making you the most loving person in the entire universe. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Your beautiful heart is like the crown jewel of your entire being treating everyone it meets with compassion and care. If only you could treat yourself with the same amount of love that you bestow on others…<br />
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br />
<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<b><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Tape 6, Side A<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />You are like light. If you didn’t glow, darkness would engulf all in its path and instruct many to just live half-hearted lives. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Without your shine, they would be comatose; just lost in a world of life, a living grave of their childhood hopes and dreams. You are the light they need to let the night turn into day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<b><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Tape 6, Side B<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<b><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You are the light synonymous with life. It would be a shame if you would not love yourself for shining bright. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Go ahead. Radiate. You are not meant to burn. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<b><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Tape 7, Side A<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<b><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">You are meant to live another day, my dear light. I see you wandering at night staring at the stars. There is an unknown puzzle that you seek to solve, a journey that you hope to sight…Hiding from the day-star and only conversing with the moonlight, why do you not wait for dawn to arrive?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Let the Sun be proud of its progeny, after all?<br />
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br />
<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Love, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Someone who genuinely believes you’re worth it. </span></div>
Divyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07478829599969479017noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1579954545688338958.post-347845824098566132017-07-03T00:41:00.000+05:302017-07-03T00:41:51.825+05:30The Devastation<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Do
you remember the last time when you felt completely devastated? Last night? Or
today at the breakfast-table? Or maybe during the last flight home? Did you
feel like a colossal mess? Did you feel like killing yourself? Did you want to
just fall asleep and never wake up?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">I guess
it happens to everyone. I know it happens to me, so I am sure it must be
happening to you as well. Please don’t make me feel alone by letting me believe
that I am the only one who goes through this…It’s alright. There’s nothing to
be ashamed of. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">We
all die a little every day – you’ll realize that when you walk into a corporate
office and see people who, as kids, dreamed of being astronauts, writers and
musicians are stuck in the monotonous, boring 9 to 5 jobs. We all kill a little
every day; and sometimes we just assist others in the killing process. How many
times have you crushed the dreams of your loved ones by telling them they are
unachievable just because you meant well, and wanted to save them from failure?
It’s alright. Don’t feel guilty about being a killer, and don’t feel hurt
because you’ve been a victim. Dying is an indispensable part of life, as is
causing death.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Just
go for it. Buy that dress even if it shows your less flattering curves. So what
if you feel that you look ugly just because you have those few extra pounds? Go
finish that half-read novel. So what if you get dark circles? Go order the
extra toppings on your pizza. So what if you’re broke? Go sing that song aloud.
So what if you’ve got a terrible voice? Because what if that part of you that’s
living today dies tomorrow?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "Verdana",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Today
was a bad day. But tomorrow will be better. How do I know? Because I like to believe
that whatever happens, happens for a reason. And things will be the way they
are meant to be. Go cry your heart out. No one is judging you. Or maybe they
are, but do their judgments really matter? You know they don’t! Go send that
reckless text. No one’s stopping you. It may all be for nothing, but at least
you got what you needed to out of your system. Go walk that extra mile because
you are only what you think of yourself to be. Don’t let others’ opinions of
you stop you from advancing towards your goals.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">So,
when was the last time you felt completely devastated? Today? Yesterday? During
that last conversation? It doesn’t matter. You’re going to feel devastated yet
again. There are so many times when I’ve felt that things could not get any
worse, but they actually have! And, I also remember times when I thought the
future was absolutely bleak and hopeless, but things suddenly changed for the
better. You’re going to die yet again. You’re going to kill yet again. Some
dreams need to die, and all wishes need not come true. Some experiences will
force you to kill certain bits of you, but never kill the parts of you that you
cannot live without. Devastated is beautiful; because the last time I checked,
broken crayons still colour. </span></div>
</div>
Divyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07478829599969479017noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1579954545688338958.post-57181930285817168182017-06-28T17:42:00.000+05:302017-06-28T17:55:29.854+05:30Pieces<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">She sits down on the floor and makes no move. She sits and does nothing. She knows she wants to think, but she just can’t. She has been paralyzed, but with what? The blade goes back and forth, back and forth. Back and forth, it makes a sound, almost like some melody. It hurts. It pains and pains. It pains a lot. She smiles. She keeps feeling the pain, and the pain keeps intensifying. She laughs. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Her entire room is dark. She has been sitting down far too long. Today’s the day, she decides. She thinks that this is it. Today is the day. And then, it suddenly stops. No more sound, no more melody. There is red around her…Staining red…But she is still able to get up. Her wrist oozes the most stunning vibrant red, but it’s nothing that can’t be fixed. Turns out today wasn’t the day after all…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">She gets up from the floor as the sunlight falls on her face almost mocking her existence. With a smile, she covers her face, and with a long-sleeved kurta, her scars and steps out to brave yet another day. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">There’s something about her, something that’s strange, and something that’s unique. She does not appear broken, but he can hear the shrill cries inside her. She seems strong, she seems happy, but he can see the numbness in her eyes, and hear the pain in her voice. She’s probably made a deal with her demons, and yes, they have left her alone, but he realizes they took something with them in exchange – a part of her soul. Each time, she feels love, the crater in her soul longs to be filled. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Nobody ever sees her for what she is. No one misses a part of her. But, there are times, when she does miss some old part of herself. He notices her looking around for pieces. He wishes he could paste them back. Tiny pieces that may seem insignificant to the world, but they still belong to her, and she wants them because they are hers to take back, hers to place back. There are moments when she stands to search for them and place them back, and then the reality hits her, and it hits him too with harder force. He can see the pain behind those gorgeous eyes of hers. He wants to be there to fill in the blank spaces that she leaves behind every time she walks. He wants to be the shine of her eyes, the strength of her voice, and the reason for her happiness. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">He wants her to feel loved, to feel happy from within, and become the symbol of hope and tranquillity that she is capable of becoming. He sees her for what she is – someone born to lead, not to lurk in the shadows. She is a being of purity and integrity.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">He knows that she can cradle the existence of this small world of theirs one day, but today, he lets himself be consumed to bring light upon her so that she herself is able to shine one day. He knows that by doing so, he’ll be losing a part of himself, but for her, it will be totally worth it. </span></div>
</div>
Divyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07478829599969479017noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1579954545688338958.post-12682224188767234352017-06-19T21:11:00.001+05:302017-06-19T21:11:18.811+05:30A Note From The Rain<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"> </span><i><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">This is for anyone who feels like continuing to hold on to something that Life wants them to let go of.</span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<i><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9oI9OpIvZveyZxpk4mhyZ7VdGfGcCPDTAr25RyUe6JtlFUGaWLdKxTsSw0bwqR-M-BGqyf2i4t5PYKn2UswY5U6UVsCB0KDNWlVBtWIRDaMA-tKulelcgjsHVw9HGN3M0LkB6kbcOpZsV/s1600/rain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="316" data-original-width="736" height="171" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9oI9OpIvZveyZxpk4mhyZ7VdGfGcCPDTAr25RyUe6JtlFUGaWLdKxTsSw0bwqR-M-BGqyf2i4t5PYKn2UswY5U6UVsCB0KDNWlVBtWIRDaMA-tKulelcgjsHVw9HGN3M0LkB6kbcOpZsV/s400/rain.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<i><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<i><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-size: 14pt;">Hello!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">When you want to hold on to your dream or a love for anything, and you feel like the whole world wants you to walk away from it, but you want to stay, I know how it feels. And I think everyone does…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">I know you feel like the X that you drew on a map so many years ago seems further than ever…I know you feel like you cannot appreciate yourself no matter how hard you try because no matter how much effort you put in, they never seem enough…I know all these things because I recognize that look in your eyes – the look of tamed frustration of holding on to something that does not want to be held on to…I too understand what it feels like to burn with the fiery desires that one has the capability to possess and get burnt...I too understand what it feels like to have that heart made of fire-wood have its flames doused by the sudden shower of rain. I too have many questions, doubts and uncertainties. Questions that seemingly have no answer, doubts that want to pull at your strings of hope until they snap, and uncertainties that wish you would move on to something more stable.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">You are not alone. And together, you and I, may have a solution; we may revel in entropic peace. Bear with me, the rain falls through my heart too, and I am simply trying to stop it from crumbling. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">I feel it is the literal rain, an accompaniment to the drizzle of ideas and the hurricane of emotions that always makes melancholy more poetic than it actually is. Or, maybe, it’s because when life pulls the trigger, it is your own tears that comprise the rain that falls as dead bullets. That is not terribly surprising for the Universe thrives on War, and Life just so happens to be your personalised battle-field. In many ways, you have known all this time that a white murder was not too far along. The death of a dream you dreamed, a love you loved, a wish you wished or a belief you believed. Loss in any form is agonizing. That is where the rain comes handy. According to me, it gives the most beautiful explanation of this particular situation where you can feel yourself break; but it is not a clean break, it is not a clean fracture…It’s louder. It is the sound of rain in the most powerful thunderstorm you’ve been trapped in. Thousands of raindrops on roses, but they resemble thorns. Oh and the rain is strong; the drops relentlessly hit you, and the feeling is devastating. They shatter a part of you into billions of tiny pieces that you cannot put back together by yourself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">I know you wish things were different. Everyone does. But you have to be strong and you have to keep holding on, if it’s what you believe in. Hold on, despite the pain that comes from the ropes cutting into your skin. Hold on, in spite of the storm tearing at the billowing sails of your ship. Hold on, without a care for what the world has to say to you because that’s the kind of person you are. You drew the world around yourself because you believed in it. And you cannot let ‘Life’ tear you apart. Hold on not for the insecurities you have of the implications, hold on for the connection you possess with your dream. Hold on, not for false hope, hold on for true love. Hold on because you know of nothing else but holding on until you change Life’s mind. It is possible and it’s not. We have to be open to all possibilities. But, hope is never lost. Hold on to it. Hold on to yourself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">If you have to let go of something, let go of the questions. One day, they shall be answered. Let go of doubts. Your doubts can someday be rectified. Don’t doubt yourself, your fire shall burn again if you let hope fuel it. I know it’s hard right now, but in case things don’t work out, I promise that uncertainty can be made certain. You may have to live with the pain for a while, but wear it proudly. It simply makes you more human. Let go of the despair and remind yourself to love and love and love yourself. Hold on to the power of your heart, and feel it beat not just for itself, but for the love of your dream. Hold on to that. That’s all that matters.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Try to let yourself smile a little when it rains.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Love,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;">Someone who knows exactly how it feels.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Divyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07478829599969479017noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1579954545688338958.post-29561107756321292052017-05-24T14:08:00.000+05:302017-05-24T14:11:34.053+05:30I Do? Do I?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div>
<span style="color: white; font-family: "kristen itc";"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: 18px;">For the past one and a half years, on an average, I seem to have got the news of at least six or seven of my close friends and acquaintances getting married. Marriage is a beautiful thing and I cannot even begin to express how happy each one of these updates make me…However, that bubble of happiness just bursts a couple of moments later when the next question pops up by the so-called well-wishers, “So, when are you going to tie the knot?”</span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: white; font-family: "kristen itc";"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: 18px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: white; font-family: "kristen itc";"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: 18px;">I have had people give me such horrific looks of disdain when I explain to them that I don’t want to get married until I fulfil some of my career aspirations. They find it so unbelievable that some of them have the audacity to ask in return, “Are you sure that’s what you really want? Wouldn’t you want your family to find you a nice boy? Your parents are getting old; don’t you want to fulfil your responsibilities towards them as a daughter?”</span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: white; font-family: "kristen itc";"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: 18px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: white; font-family: "kristen itc";"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: 18px;">It takes centuries for mind-sets to change. How do I actually answer the question: but, is that what you really want? </span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: white; font-family: "kristen itc";"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: 18px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: white; font-family: "kristen itc";"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: 18px;">Answering that question has now become obligatory, instead of voluntary especially because these questions aren’t hurled anymore from just aunties and grannies. Women younger than me are asking this question to me and to their little sisters and peers. </span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: white; font-family: "kristen itc";"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: 18px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: white; font-family: "kristen itc";"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: 18px;">If we study the theory of human evolution, centuries ago, cave-women were called gatherers – their instincts compelled them to find the toughest, strongest man (the hunter) who they knew they could have a family with, and who would provide for them and protect them. We live in 2017 in a modern world, and while we still respond highly to our primitive instincts, do we still need to rely on a man to complete us? Of course, to add to the noise, we have the biological clock ticking on us. We don’t want to be too late! </span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: white; font-family: "kristen itc";"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: 18px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: white; font-family: "kristen itc";"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: 18px;">Love makes us do crazy things. Usually, for most of us, logic fails miserably when our instincts call. Within seconds I have seen independent, fierce young women becoming this timid, soft person who needs to be looked after. </span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: white; font-family: "kristen itc";"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: 18px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: white; font-family: "kristen itc";"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: 18px;">But we’ve evolved so much with time – why are we still letting our instincts get the better of us? I know of women who are highly-qualified still having a closed mind-set when it comes to marriage. Don’t we have enough societal pressure to last us a life-time – waist-size, sexuality, college, religion, work-life balance – didn’t we get enough choices to make growing up that now we have yet another one pushed our way. The lavish way a family celebrates marriage, why can’t they celebrate achievement of career goals in the same manner?</span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: white; font-family: "kristen itc";"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: 18px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: white; font-family: "kristen itc";"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: 18px;">A few days ago, I met a beautiful twenty-five year old girl who told me she’s never been in a relationship, and now she is too scared to fall in love because it could be years and years till she finally finds ‘the one’, instead meeting someone pre-approved by parents and hopefully adjusting according to his whims and fancies seemed the smart thing to do. I did not know whether to give her a pity hug, or to just tell her that she’s got it all wrong. </span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: white; font-family: "kristen itc";"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: 18px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: white; font-family: "kristen itc";"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: 18px;">Unfortunately, she isn’t the only woman who thinks that way. I know so many of them who follow the same mantra. Ladies, what happened to living life one day at a time?</span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: white; font-family: "kristen itc";"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: 18px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: white; font-family: "kristen itc";"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: 18px;">Surprise yourself for a change, take a shot. Even if it does not work, at least it was a good learning experience. Fall in love with yourself and spare the pressure. What you cannot find in yourself, you will never find it in another person, so don’t go forging a relationship just to fill some void. It won’t ever get filled that way. You are beautiful now, and you’ll still be gorgeous ten years down the line. </span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: white; font-family: "kristen itc";"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: 18px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: white; font-family: "kristen itc";"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: 18px;">I am not against the institution of marriage, but I believe it should be for the right reasons.</span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: white; font-family: "kristen itc";"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: 18px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: white; font-family: "kristen itc";"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: 18px;">Let your soul-mate find you. You will know when the time is right. Silence your instincts and use that energy to build an empire you can, perhaps, later cherish. </span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: white; font-family: "kristen itc";"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: 18px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: white; font-family: "kristen itc";"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: 18px;">Regular life is boring, why force it on yourself? Surely, you did not take birth to experience monotony. No one knows for sure what lies after death, and while there are many fascinating theories floating around, the truth is that you just have this one life. Do you want to waste it by being boring and scared? </span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: white; font-family: "kristen itc";"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: 18px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: white; font-family: "kristen itc";"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: 18px;">Silence the noise around, and listen to your heart – you are just 1 in 7.3 billion people. Be sure to leave your mark. Remember this the next time you are forced to bow down to the wishes and expectations of others. </span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: white; font-family: "kristen itc";"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: 18px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: white; font-family: "kristen itc";"><span style="color: #eeeeee; font-size: 18px;">You can always do better. </span></span></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
Divyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07478829599969479017noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1579954545688338958.post-3640923295763005372017-04-19T15:49:00.000+05:302017-04-19T17:52:33.568+05:30Faceless Stories<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "bell mt" , serif; line-height: 107%;">Everyone has their own reason for waking up every morning, or “a reason for being”. The Japanese call this “ikigai”. All of us have so many different reasons for jumping out of bed (or, as in my case, crawling out). It could be a compulsion to meet the minimum attendance percentage required in college (most college-students’ cases!), or, maybe, to just meet up with friends, to take up a new challenge that life throws our way – carpe dium. Reasons could be many – perhaps, to just hug your parent, or cuddle with your pet, or even crank up some silly music and goof around in your PJs. Maybe, you just like to see the sun rise and hear the birds chirp. The dawn gives you hope, light beyond the dark, and a chance to start afresh – a new beginning. Since the chance can be grabbed, why not?? Even though we might not all be morning persons, there is always that one reason in our life that gives us the belief and the hope of another day. It’s the belief we take with us to sleep at night and hold on to – and that is how life goes on…Really. Days, weeks, months, years pass by for these little reasons that make us “want” to wake up to a bright, new day. Reasons that keep us alive. These “ikigais” are something that just makes us so much more similar to each other than we realize…These “ikigais” are the faceless stories that are common not just to you and me, but also to stories we do not perceive, or realistically, choose not to perceive. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "bell mt" , serif; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "bell mt" , serif; line-height: 107%;">Last month, I had the unbelievably amazing opportunity to attend a workshop in Rishikesh and the lessons I learnt there – I could not have learnt them anywhere else. Amongst the various life-lessons the workshop taught me, one was that no matter where you go, which language you speak – everyone is one and the same...Flesh and bones…With the same hopes and dreams, same reasons to wake up every morning, same fears and insecurities. We are all watching the same movies, listening to the same songs and fighting the same battles. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "bell mt" , serif; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "bell mt" , serif; line-height: 107%;">Let me now get back to the title of my post – Faceless Stories. These stories are merely just every single person around us. The crowds that we get lost in, in shopping malls or in the middle of a crowded street. They include our batch-mates and our colleagues. Our parents. Our teachers. Even the celebrities we adore and worship. How much do we really know about their lives? Have we ever really stepped into their shoes and seen for ourselves what living their life felt like? How many times, before placing a judgment, have we stopped to ask ourselves what that person’s life has been like? Forget about each and every day, have we ever lived even one day in his life? If not, then, what gives us the power to decide for ourselves what ‘might’ that person be like, or what his life ‘might’ be like. We paint a face what in reality is nothing more than a faceless story…A novel that we are NOT the author of. This serves as the building block to all the pandemonium that we see around us, today. Clouded judgements and influenced perceptions. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "bell mt" , serif; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "bell mt" , serif; line-height: 107%;">Being absolutely non-judgmental may not be possible for all of us. All I feel is that – yes, we may be different from each other, but then, if all of us are different together, then in that, we are all similar. So yes – we are in all entireties, the same. I do not ask you to not judge. I ask you to not judge people by your own standards. Everyone around you is trying to hold on to their “ikigais”, fulfil their dreams, fight their demons, win their battles - and all unbeknownst to you. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "bell mt" , serif; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "bell mt" , serif; line-height: 107%;"><b>Faceless Stories - Scenario 1: </b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "bell mt" , serif; line-height: 107%;">As you walk home after an exhausting day, a cute seven-year-old skips along the pavement holding her mother’s hand. You smile to yourself and say, “What a cute little girl!” and then something else catches your mind. Little did you know that the cute seven-year-old won her first poem recitation competition in school that day. She was given a certificate and everyone clapped for her. The certificate is now safely kept in a pink folder in her school bag that is slung across her mother’s shoulders. Her mother cannot help but smile a proud, little smile. The mother is reminded of her school-days. She remembers her days in school when she was great in debates and is so happy that her daughter is following her footsteps and enjoying public speaking. She can’t wait to reach home and announce via Facebook proudly before the world about how her daughter won a prize. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "bell mt" , serif; line-height: 107%;">At home, the cute, little girl snuggles in bed clutching her teddy bear and soon drifts off into a dream world where she fantasizes about receiving ten more certificates and trophies that’ll adorn her bedroom, and more claps, more hugs, more Facebook statuses, more praises. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "bell mt" , serif; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "bell mt" , serif; line-height: 107%;"><b>Faceless Stories - Scenario 2: </b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "bell mt" , serif; line-height: 107%;">Your boss has just announced your promotion in front of the entire office. As everyone is busy cheering and congratulating you, you observe a colleague, who is a good friend of yours, slightly moving to a corner, with no smile on his face, fidgeting with his phone, and you immediately realize, “He wanted this promotion. Now he’s jealous of me.” Your colleague notices you looking at him and smiles, but you can make out it is forced. You make up your mind to stay away from him as far as possible. He has no idea about your decision. Just a while ago, he found out that the girl he really loved is marrying another man and he’s heartbroken. However, he does not want to share his bad news with you at a time when you are celebrating your success. He decides to shake off his grief and join in the merrymaking even though he does not feel like it. He is happy that he at least has a friend at work.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "bell mt" , serif; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "bell mt" , serif; line-height: 17.12px;"><b>Faceless Stories - Scenario 3:</b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "bell mt" , serif; line-height: 17.12px;">Your date just stood you up. As you sit by yourself, blinking your eyes rapidly to stop the tears from flowing, you suddenly hear a delightful scream! The woman on the table in front of you has just been proposed by the man of her dreams, and she's said 'yes'. You stare at the happy couple in anger and mutter to yourself, "Life's not fair! How can they rub their happiness on my face." You don't notice the sigh of relief on that woman's face. You do not see the creases on her face, caused due to incessant nights of worry. For the last ten nights, she has not slept a wink. "How do I tell him that I am pregnant with his child?", "Will he accept me and the baby?", "What do I do now?" - that is all she's been thinking. Finally, she can have a restful sleep tonight. Her baby is going to have a father figure after all. Life's good again. The man too can see nothing around him; he's too engrossed staring into the eyes of the woman he loves. It's time for him to become responsible now, take charge. He cannot behave like a child any more, because an actual child is going to come into his life - his own baby. He just cannot believe it!</span><br />
<b style="font-family: "bell mt", serif;"><br /></b>
<b style="font-family: "bell mt", serif;">Faceless Stories - Scenario 4:</b><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "bell mt" , serif;">You're having a great time with your friends. All of you have had a few too many drinks. Your friend insists on driving the car, and even though you know it isn't right, you let him. The music is loud and all of you are singing along, having the time of your lives. You do not notice the man crossing the road, and by the time you do, it's too late. He's gone, and your friends just drive past the empty roads without even turning back to look at him. "He seemed poor...Was probably homeless...No one will miss him...Let's not get into any trouble...Run! Drive fast!" and you and your friends have escaped. It's been a week and life goes on for all of you. There are a few moments plagued with guilt, but nothing so extreme that you aren't able to focus on the task at hand. You just shrug off the ill feeling and get back to work. Back in an old dilapidated house, a visually impaired father is desperately waiting for his son's arrival. The neighbours feel his son abandoned him because taking care of the sick, old man was no easy task. The old man hears these whispers every day and wonders what is it that he did that drove his son away. </span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "bell mt" , serif; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "bell mt" , serif; line-height: 107%;">There are so many more faceless stories just like these. Everyone around us, making their way home by the roads they know best - roads that we probably would have got lost on, till we made a phone call and asked them to repeat the address again...Because everyone around you has a life outside of yours, complete with their own thoughts, feelings and emotions. You could potentially just be a passing figure on the street to them. Every random passerby you encounter is living a life as vivid and as complex as yours - populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries and inherited craziness—an epic story that continues invisibly around you like an anthill sprawling deep underground, with elaborate passageways to thousands of other lives that you’ll never know existed, in which you might appear only once, as an extra sipping coffee in the background, as a blur of traffic passing on the highway, as a lighted window at dusk…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "bell mt" , serif; line-height: 107%;">Let them write their own novel, a novel that you do not need to write a book review of!<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
</div>
Divyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07478829599969479017noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1579954545688338958.post-46185592327769218552017-03-21T23:44:00.000+05:302017-03-21T23:44:09.876+05:30Let There Be Light<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Suzanne Collins may be widely known for the <i>Hunger Games</i></span><i><span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"> </span></i><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">trilogy, but years before she became popular, I remember being a fan of another series written by her - the <i>Underland Chronicles</i>. And I really liked the series! Now, in the Underland, a world within our world (or rather below it, to be precise), the word “light” is synonymous with the word “life.” This was years ago, but the only reason I mention this reminiscence is because I have only lately realized that for the current optimist in me, this was one of the earlier forms of positive reinforcement I encountered. In the words of Stephen Hawking, “However bad life may seem, where there is life, there is hope.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">So the formula goes:<br />Life = Light<br />Life = Hope<br />Light = Hope<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Ever since we slid out of that primordial slime, our unifying cry has been for more light. Light in so many different forms – sunlight, torch-light, candle-light, neon, incandescent lights that banish the darkness from our caves to illuminate our roads, and the insides of our refrigerators. Big floods for the night match at Eden Gardens. Little tiny flash-lights for those books we read under the covers when we’re actually supposed to be fast asleep. Light is more than watts and foot-candles. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Light is a metaphor. Light stands for knowledge, light is life, light is light…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">When we were children, we were afraid of the dark at some point or the other. While psychologists believe fear of darkness is not a natural fear (after all, we live in dark wombs from the time of conception to birth), it is still a very valid fear – darkness stands for the unknown. It stands for oblivion. Time passes and we are no more children. We grow up. Monsters under our bed turn into monsters in our heads. Perhaps that is why, more times than often – we are afraid of the light. And what could be sadder? We are always on this never-ending pursuit of happiness, yet we keep finding reasons to lose our way. Hope is everything. Hope is the light that guides us home, to happiness.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Hope is being able to see that light despite the despair and darkness. Yet we still fear the uncertain, the unknown. Earlier, we feared the darkness, and as we grow old, many of us start fearing the light. It’s hard to say which fear is worse – a child’s fear of the dark, or an adult’s fear of the light? Or perhaps, both are just the same. Nevertheless, what’s important is that we move past these fears. Yet we seem unable to do that. Why?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">In <i>Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban<b>, </b></i>Dumbledore had said, and I quote, “Happiness could be found in the darkest of times, if only one remembers to turn on the light.”<br />This thought is iterated and reiterated throughout the series. Let’s take Ron Weasley and the Deluminator as an example - the Deluminator did not just turn off the lights, it was a beacon of hope. The light showed him the way; like a lighthouse would to a ship on a stormy night lost at sea, or a lantern to a passerby on a foggy evening. The main point I am trying to make here is that Ron Weasley was not afraid to let the light show him the way. For anyone who wonders why light symbolizes hope, this would make perfect sense…<br />Because light is what we wake up to every single day – to sunlight and a new beginning. It has been said that with the flight of the morning, through a heart of darkness shall always emerge the light.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">If there is only one lesson to be learnt from a lifetime on this planet – I feel it would be this: light shall always trump darkness. I see it as a universal truth, if you may. A single candle is illumination enough to show you the way. Hope. Hope could mean the “light at the end of the tunnel”, hope could refer to a “driving force”, but hope is a matter of perspective. I like to believe that hope is everything. Lumos > Nox. Where there is life, there is light.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">“For, the world may be broken but hope is not crazy!”<br />- John Green<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Divyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07478829599969479017noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1579954545688338958.post-91389028424847877192017-02-14T19:34:00.001+05:302017-02-15T13:30:52.032+05:30A Lesson On Love<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="line-height: 19.2pt; margin: 0cm 0cm 11.25pt; text-align: center;">
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: left;">
<i><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">"I love your shoes... I love you...what are you comparing me to? Your shoes?"</span></i></blockquote>
</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="line-height: 19.2pt; margin: 0cm 0cm 11.25pt; text-align: center;">
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">- Jackie Shroff on <i>Koffee With Karan</i></span></blockquote>
</blockquote>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<i><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></i>
</div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="line-height: 19.2pt; margin-bottom: 11.25pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">People complain that the word “love” is used very loosely these days…At one point of time, I did have an issue with that, but these days I feel that the laws of love cannot be the same for everyone. Popular conception may have restricted the usage of the term "love" only while referring to couples, but why do we only need to perceive love in only one particular manner?</span></blockquote>
<div class="a3l" style="line-height: 19.2pt; margin-bottom: 11.25pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="a3l" style="line-height: 19.2pt; margin-bottom: 11.25pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">As human beings, we are born to love and to be loved, and it is alright, I feel, if love has different perceptions, manifestations, and expressions. Love is an incredibly powerful experience and those who’ve been in love can vouch for the same. Of course, the path of love is not an easy one. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="a3l" style="line-height: 19.2pt; margin-bottom: 11.25pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Falling in love is easy, staying in love is hard work and for some, a bit of a challenge. Like many before have already said, love is the hardest thing we do…But it is also the best thing we do. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="a3l" style="line-height: 19.2pt; margin-bottom: 11.25pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Love is an empty house that we move into when we need a place of comfort and security. However, love does not always prove to be a good home. Just like homes have dark corners where we aren’t willing to go for reasons we cannot fathom, or awkward spaces where we cannot reach; in the same way, love can have unfamiliar nooks for years. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="a3l" style="line-height: 19.2pt; margin-bottom: 11.25pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">In the beginning, we view everything with rose-tinted glasses. We are sure that if we make love look awesome, it will feel awesome. We don’t bother with the dark corners and focus and concentrate on what is in front of us. We decorate it our way so that it looks great, to make ourselves feel at ease. However, even when love is a comfortable home, it’s never a wise idea to stay at home all the time. Sometimes, we need to explore those unvisited rooms, those </span><span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">untouched territories</span><span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">.</span></div>
<div class="a3l" style="line-height: 19.2pt; margin-bottom: 11.25pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Love has a tendency to dawdle. It does not believe in operating smoothly and ensuring that everything runs like clockwork. There are times when it disappears or goes missing, leaving us, the parties involved, to just ad-lib awkwardly. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="a3l" style="line-height: 19.2pt; margin-bottom: 11.25pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Love is lazy and shirks from doing homework. While there is no end to the amount of love we really crave, how much love do we actually need? Love is an ungrateful, entitled brat. Sometimes, love hates intimacy. It hasn’t attended all its lessons. It blanks out when it has to perform. </span><span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">Most of the </span>time<span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;"> though, love likes togetherness. Being in love may be a “wow” feeling but many times, we realize that it’s just not working for us! Love can suffocate us, it can make us feel claustrophobic. We keep remembering the warm, fuzzy feelings we experienced in the beginning and hold on tighter, embrace it harder without realizing that love needs to make space. Sometimes, allegiances may remain one-sided for years. Love may underestimate the amount of space it needs. Love needs some amount of distance to sustain itself. It needs to breathe, to run, to go away so that it can always return to earnest, safe </span>embraces<span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;"> and the desired intimacy.</span></div>
<div class="a3l" style="line-height: 19.2pt; margin-bottom: 11.25pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Saying “I love you” is only the first step. The steps that follow can be a bit of a struggle. Each day, as we move ahead, love changes colours. Sometimes, love is expressed in the form of anger. At other times, it moulds into anxiety. We also have a tendency to destroy love each day. We chase it away. We stop ourselves from acknowledging it, from recognizing it, because who knows, what it may ask from us. </span><span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">Many of us are threatened by love. We sometimes resent the fact that love does not come our way in the package that we expected. What is wrong with us? Doesn’t love mean </span><span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">dealing with differences, accepting contradictions and celebrating diversity?</span></div>
<div class="a3l" style="line-height: 19.2pt; margin-bottom: 11.25pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">In love, we become the keeper of each other’s memories. He may tell you about the cousin who bullied him incessantly when he was a kid and then acted as if nothing happened in later years, leaving you to deal with the bully when he comes visiting. You may tell him about the Sunday outings with your father when you were a child. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="a3l" style="line-height: 19.2pt; margin-bottom: 11.25pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">One of you will be the dreamer. The other will be fantastic with logistics. But the one with fabulous logistics skills will realize that she too has dreams of her own. She’ll hand back his dreams to him, and charge ahead to pursue hers.</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 19.2pt; margin-bottom: 11.25pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">You will witness the other person fighting lost battles. You’ll want to rescue them, you will be judgmental, and you will tear each other down. You will bask in glory when his dreams come true. You will feel left out. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 19.2pt; margin-bottom: 11.25pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Love can feel uncomfortable. </span><span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">She will never be good at being ill. She’ll be cranky and refuse to see the doctor. He’ll have no clue on how to deal with her illness. Instead of being useful, he will scold her when he discovers that she stashed away the medicines as soon as she felt slightly better, instead of finishing the prescribed course. Love involves a bit of yelling. It’s natural because when she are weak, the anxiety in her lover is triggered. Love makes us vulnerable. How can it not?</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 19.2pt; margin-bottom: 11.25pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Love requires patience, sometimes a great deal of it. We need years to get into the skin of love and wear it comfortably. Love has childhood issues.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 19.2pt; margin-bottom: 11.25pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Love teaches us to trust in different ways. It helps us discover mistrust despite love. It stuns us. Love assists us in taking some steps back. Trust always has to be earned, it is never served on a platter. One of you will always be better than the other when it comes to handling trust issues. One of you may be better than the other at handling money. One of you may abstain completely from social media, while the other could be a Facebook junkie! One of you will thrive in clutter, while the other person needs everything well-organized and clean. One of you will get along fine with watchmen, plumbers, taxi drivers and carpenters, while the other will be ill-mannered and rude. Lead by example. Positions can and should be reversed from time to time. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 19.2pt; margin-bottom: 11.25pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">Love is the union of two souls. Love brings two people together to form a world of their own. However, the most significant aspect of any relationship is the realization that the two people who came together are still different persons, separate entities. They have their own rhythm, priorities, pleasures and passions. They have to fulfill their own separate dreams - dreams that may come in the way of them being together...</span></div>
<div style="line-height: 19.2pt; margin-bottom: 11.25pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">That does not mean love is over. In fact, love is the exact opposite of that. True love wants the lover to be absolutely liberated. It means that she’ll be separate from him and he will be separate from her. They need not continue walking on the same path – sometimes their roads may diverge and things will change, but it does not mean that love has gone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 19.2pt; margin-bottom: 11.25pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Love always reinvents itself. It resuscitates. Love demands diversification. Spread your wings and fly, and allow your lover to do the same. Love more and more, love yourself, love others, make love in new places, in new ways because no matter which path you choose or which destination you wish to reach, you’ll end up rediscovering love in these new spaces. Never close yourself to love, because…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 19.2pt; margin-bottom: 11.25pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">While love is one of the hardest things that we do, love is the best thing we’ll ever do.</span></div>
</div>
Divyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07478829599969479017noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1579954545688338958.post-27769689691530296162017-01-25T00:45:00.000+05:302017-01-25T00:46:14.957+05:30Far Far Away<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">After ages, I am reconnecting with my love for Neil Gaiman. Paraphrasing G.K. Chesterton, he wrote, “Fairy tales are more than true – not because they tell us dragons exist, but because they tell us dragons can be beaten.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I love fairy-tales. Some people say for a twenty-seven year old, my love for fairy-tales actually borders on obsession. Somewhere I feel they’ve cast a spell on me that does not have or need a cure. To many, this may seem immature, weird or even childish and I have had my fair share of “Aren’t you too old for…?” questions, but I don’t mind. Really. For there is no feeling that I would ever choose over the magic and hope you feel running through your veins when the shoe fits Cinderella or when Sleeping Beauty awakens or when Wendy flies for the first time. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">J.M. Barrie said it best when he said, “All the world is made of faith, and trust and pixie dust.” This just happens to be all we need too. But we let reality get in the way, and I wish we didn’t let that happen. I do not see why Neverland has to be left in the fairy-dust. And I most definitely do not understand why we cannot keep the hope we once had as children alive and afire. Like it has been said, growing old is mandatory, growing up is optional. What happened? Why did people have to go from loving fairy-tales as children to mocking them as teenagers? Don’t tell me, “Life happened. We’ve changed and we’re now moving past our former selves – we don’t know us anymore.” Yes, life is frustrating, chaotic and sometimes unbearable, and we cannot really do much about it. Dark clouds block the sunshine often for me as well – but what I do to pull myself out of this is wish ‘Once Upon a Dream’ like Aurora or ‘Let it Go’ like Elsa. The point is fairy-tales do not deny the existence of heartache, despair or sorrow, but they do deny defeat, failure and unhappy endings.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The lessons we learn from fairy-tales are no different from the lessons learnt for life. Yes, you do not need to believe in poisoned apples or pumpkin carriages but believe in the themes that these stories are rooted in. Fairy-tales, in all entireties, are not an escapade from realistic situations – our world is not unlike theirs, in which both good and evil exist. The difference could perhaps be that we don’t have magic or a Fairy Godmother to save us from the clutches of evil. But, perhaps, we’re so accustomed to being Muggles that we do not realize that magic exists. A good heart, a spoonful of courage to use kindness and goodness wisely and humour – that’s all the magic one really needs. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Once upon a time – for that is how all stories should begin – your story began, truer than true. And they all lived happily ever after – for that is how all stories should end – and yours will too. Life is a story with good parts and bad. How would you know happiness without knowing the sad? <br />If you do not like the story you are in, leave and find your own happily ever after. The best thing about fairy-tales is probably how applicable they still are in our lives – of course not literally, but metaphorically or symbolically – and how we are so oblivious to it all…<br />It may have been centuries since Little Red Riding Hood took on the Big Bad Wolf or Dorothy defeated the Wicked Witch of the West, but “Fear” has not changed. We were frightened as children, we’re possibly more frightened now. What frightens us today might not be what frightened us back then, but it is just a different wolf, a different witch. And we still need to battle them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">“Fairy tales since the beginning of recorded time and perhaps earlier, are the best means to conquer the terrors of mankind through metaphor.”</span></i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />- Jack Zipes<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I feel this is what seems to be the most sensible approach to feeling better about the world that we live in – if we could only believe in making our own magic. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
<i>"Stories you read when you're the right age never quite leave you. You may forget who wrote them or what the story was called. Sometimes you'll forget what precisely happened but if a story touches you, it will stay with you, haunting the places in your mind you rarely visit."<br />
</i>- Neil Gaiman<i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">One of my favourite metaphors is the following: <br />Just like the Baby Bear’s porridge in Goldilocks and the Three Bears, the universe is “just right”. Happy endings need not exist just in fairy-tales. I love fairy-tales and while I may not believe in magic mirrors, or Fairy Godmothers granting me the most exquisite glass slippers (shoes are quite expensive in real life!) but I do believe in the idea of hope and love, which runs from the end of one story to the beginning of another – the idea that happiness does exist. Love believes when you don’t. That is all the motivation and validation I usually need to get on with my life. The ‘bare’ necessities if you know what I mean!<i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">To wrap this all up with a flick of a wand, I wish you all find the same joy and inspiration that I do from fairy-tales. Fairy-tales have the beauty of always giving one a simpler, newer perspective of things, a transformation of ideology from “I wish” to “I will” and a belief in trust, kindness, goodness, hope and love. </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><br />
</span></i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I wish you all Hakuna Matata and lots and lots of love! There is life beyond the stone tower in which you’ve enclosed yourself. Set yourself free, and go seek your kingdom of Far-Far-Away!</span></div>
</div>
Divyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07478829599969479017noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1579954545688338958.post-78147478683769166402017-01-09T00:41:00.001+05:302017-01-09T00:41:38.492+05:30Chrysalis<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Don’t we all love butterflies? Well, maybe not all – I know my brother was scared of butterflies as a kid (yes, laugh all you want!) – but I’ve always been inspired by them to a huge extent. The first tattoo I got was of a butterfly…<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">I really feel that Nature is the best teacher. I mean – look at the butterflies! Magnificently hued and the objects of everyone’s envy! But then again, I wonder: what do we envy? We envy their beauty, we envy the fact that they blossomed from relatively ugly, green caterpillars to luminescent self-propelled flowers, if I may put it that way, and we envy everything we cannot be and cannot do. Human nature…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Just some time ago, while reading random facts online, I found out that butterflies have short life-spans. Yes, the longest may be a year, but their average life-span is a mere five days to two weeks. When I read this, I remember thinking to myself that this was yet another example of the law of impermanence in life. Nothing lasts forever. Now, that is both good news and bad news. What really was the point of being so beautiful if your life was merely fourteen days long, at the very best? Ironically, two weeks later, I got the answer to my question. Mother Nature’s mysterious ways cannot be undone; these fractals of our amazing world are here to inspire all of us, if only we paid a little more attention. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">The butterfly counts not the days or weeks it has, but the moments it has, and that is time enough…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Today a caterpillar, tomorrow a butterfly. We should never lose hope of what tomorrow might bring. Despite all the heartache, sorrow, pain and insecurities, we are all butterflies waiting to happen. Just when the caterpillar thought life was over, cocooned in darkness and misery, it transformed into a butterfly. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">The caterpillar thought, “It is the end of the world.”<br />The butterfly realized, “It is the beginning of the world.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">The struggles, the battles you fight today, prepare you for tomorrow. They help you develop the strength and make you realize that you need to fly. You might feel that you are about to fall, but butterflies can’t see their wings, can they? They can’t see how beautiful they are, but people around them can. People are like that. We really are butterflies waiting to happen. People are like butterflies and the world is our chrysalis. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">A month ago, I found a dead butterfly. It’s not the most common sight. Incandescent green wings, unimaginably beautiful…Dead…It really is not every day that you find a dead butterfly. Until I held it in my hands, its frayed wings, I could have lived in the bubble that butterflies are fairies that come out of nowhere, entertain us with their beauty and disappear into nothingness soon thereafter. But no life is unfair…and fair: an integration of happiness and sadness; change. Change is the only constant. And probably, that is the biggest lesson we can learn from a butterfly.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">If nothing ever changed, there would be no butterflies. If nothing ever changed, clear, blue skies would not follow storms. If nothing ever changed, life would have no meaning.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Just like the butterflies, we will awaken in our own time. We really are just butterflies waiting to happen…</span></div>
</div>
Divyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07478829599969479017noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1579954545688338958.post-68599475850803547702017-01-05T18:15:00.000+05:302017-01-05T18:15:51.752+05:30Bubbles<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It’s been almost five years since I’m writing here, sharing
random thoughts, emotions and feelings with the world that stops by this space
from time to time. Maintaining a regular blog had always been on my bucket-list
of life, and only lately have I realized the need to actually check items off
this list. I am lucky to have had a wonderful life so far (touch wood!) – a loving
family, amazing friends, lots of magical moments – but nothing really lasts
forever. Life goes on, until it ends. But what comes between these two polarities
depends entirely upon us…And that is my minimalistic approach to life. I’ve
tried to make mine count so far. The rest of the journey is still a long, long
walk to go.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And because we all have a bucket-list – a list of certain
expectations that we hold of life – I intend on checking items off of mine, or
maybe, writing a few more chapters. After all, your life is your story. You are
the author. You are the author of this never-ending novel of love, adventure,
fun and all that you want and more! (And the owner to a bucket full of
soap-water!)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Life’s the bubble you need to blow. Blow your own bubbles,
and pop them if you want. That sums up really what life is in my eyes…That sums
up what my thoughts on life are – my thoughts are bubbles that don’t go *pop*.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">There are so many bubbles like my thoughts – bubbles of
happiness, regret, sadness, compassion, inspiration, etc. Maybe, we are all
just bubbles ourselves. Bubbles that keep getting bigger and bigger, and
inevitably, one day, go *pop*. The last couple of years are when I’ve really
grown up though, to see the world as it is, and blow more bubbles. Bubbles can
be more than just thoughts and feelings. Bubbles can be the happiest moments of
your life – a sum total of all your happiest days – and it is because of these
bubbles that you are still alive. A bubble can be a memory that cheers you up
and reminds you of sunnier days. A brilliant-hued bubble reminds you of the
rainbow beyond the rain and the dawn ahead of the dusk. These bubbles take you
back to your childhood days when blowing bubbles was the supreme joy of life
and blowing bubbles made a day your best day – made every day your best day!
So, it is vital that we hold on to the bubbles of life, vital that we hold on
to our thought bubbles and then enjoy the transcendence that follows.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">What are these bubbles of life that make us smile?<br />
Playing Uno with your brother. Petting dogs on the road. A good hair day.
Someone saying that you look beautiful today. Music. Reading a book that you
just cannot put down. Meeting your friend after the longest time and still
feeling like you met yesterday. Raindrops. Telling your niece a bed-time story
and even though she’s heard it a thousand times, she still has the same,
curious moon-eyed expression on her face. Coffee after a long, tiring day. Your
favourite song on repeat. Switching the television on and seeing that your
favourite movie has just started. A bubble bath. Having 100% charge on your
phone. Chocolate chip cookies. Pizza. Oh, these bubbles just never end!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And they never will…These are bubbles that never go pop.
Because happiness never ends. Happiness is always around us. In forms that we
don’t acknowledge and take for granted. A hug is happiness. A cup of hot
chocolate is happiness. Happiness is always around us. And yes, so is sadness.
But life is your bubble, and thoughts are your bubbles. So, it is your choice.
You can choose happiness. You can choose joy. You can choose forgiveness. You
can choose better instead of worse. You can choose love. Because you can make
your own life. Life is your bubble. And if you don’t like your bubble, pop it.
Start again. Blow another bubble.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
Divyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07478829599969479017noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1579954545688338958.post-49215203712782059332016-12-27T01:56:00.000+05:302016-12-29T01:30:24.728+05:30Goodbye 2016!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">It’s the last few days of the year. Goodbye, 2016. Finally, this year has come to an end – a year that was a total roller-coaster ride in terms of emotions, memories, and achievements. In hindsight, it was just like any other year I suppose. Some part of me is glad it’s coming to a close, a part of me is not (I mean what do I do if the coming year turns out to be worse than this one!). Excuse my cynicism, it’s a side-effect of ageing. To be honest, cynicism is nothing other than disappointed idealism; something I realized the other day when my best friend was trying to drill in my head that a few bad days do not account for an entire bad year. To be entirely honest, it has been a good year – a year full of lessons and clichéd inner awakenings that are again a part of the natural growing-up process.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">It’s weird looking back at who I started 2016 with, and who I’m ending 2016 with…Who I was a year ago, and who I am right now. I am a much happier person today than I was at that moment. I may not have changed for the better, but I’ve definitely changed for good. I feel closer to my companions, I feel more at home than I’ve ever been. 2016 has been a whirlwind of change, yet I still feel centered. This brings me to what I wanted to talk about – change (what they say is the only constant in life!). We love it, we hate it, but in the end, we just have to deal with it because there is nothing else we can really do about it. People change, ideas change, situations change, and before you know it, the year ends and you are a completely different person – or, perhaps, as I’d like to believe, a newer, improved version of yourself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Reality is subjective, but 2016 has made me aware, to some extent, of what is real and true; and as I’ve allowed myself to be awakened to my feeling of being, I realize that it was everything that I already knew. I am what I am trying to become and achieve. I do not become loving, I am love. I do not become sincere, I am sincerity, and so on. So yes, that’s it. The ocean persists, waves come and go. You are the entire ocean in a single drop and not a single drop in the ocean. Life happens. Moments come and go. Just seize every moment.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I’ve noticed people getting annoyed at my optimism. Few have managed to muster courage and ask why I am happy all the time. There are many who claim they can never imagine me being sad. I just feel that people fail to understand – I am not happy all the time, and I can be sad too – last year, was particularly hard for me, and there have been moments where I’ve been in the depths of despair. But, I feel that if there could be an accurate measurement – life would actually be finite suffering and infinite hope. For me, what I learnt in 2016 was that being negative is a sure-shot guarantee for ruining things. Being positive, on the other hand, might just make a difference…or it might not. But I am willing to take that risk. Hope…Hope is everything. If you haven’t found it, keep looking. I hope you will find what you are looking for, the coming year.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The most important lesson I have learnt in 2016 is that you should just seize the moment and tell people how important they are to you. Not because they could leave at any moment or because they could return to you, but because they matter and it’s worth saying something. Parting ways with people forever is easy, but when you find someone you want to keep around, you should do something about it. You get 31,536,000 seconds in a year. Have you used at least one of them to tell someone they mean a lot to you? I did in 2016. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I could go on and on and on. The memories and lessons, good or bad, have been countless and unforgettable. You survived. So did I. And now, we’ve stumbled onto another blank canvas. Paint a masterpiece. Write a bestselling novel. Contribute to humanity in any way you can. I’ve learnt a lot the past year, including the fact that you are only as insignificant and irrelevant s you convince yourself to be. It’s not wrong to be upset or sad or cynical as long as you can shake it off and let go. Letting go was a particularly difficult lesson to master for me, and it’s a lesson that still needs to be fully learnt. Another lesson – it’s not weak to be afraid or sad, it’s human; and actually a tiny reminder that you have something to lose, and gratitude is the way to go.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Take a breath and pause. Reflect on the year gone by. Hold precious memories close. Forgive. Let go. Believe in second chances. Love and be loved. That’s what New Year is all about. It’s time to make a new start and let go of the past– just take some moments to say that final good-bye. </span><o:p></o:p></div>
</div>
Divyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07478829599969479017noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1579954545688338958.post-75439092288915431732016-11-22T23:21:00.000+05:302016-11-22T23:22:15.380+05:30You Against The World<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">I could think that the sky above me is pink. When it rains, down come nachos! All the trees are red due to excess of anthocyanins. Maybe, people around me have purple hair, gray </span>hands<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> and feet. Our blood is blue, and penguins run the government.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">It is easy for me to imagine such things, but I wonder if I would be able to tell you these thoughts? If I did, I’m sure you’d laugh; or say, “Gosh, what is wrong with you? When did you stop sounding sensible?” or maybe you’d dismiss the whole affair as “funny stuff” or a joke. But, what if that makes perfect sense to me?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">We all have thoughts that we’re afraid to voice. Perhaps, we’re ingrained with the fear of being looked at as different, or being labelled “weird”. We have been trained to conform, and we pretty much do things that everyone else does, for pretty much the same reasons. We follow trends, and have our preferred self-identities. But, how real are these identities? Are they really us? Why do we care so much about what others will think, when somewhere down the line we’re also taught that they aren’t supposed to matter? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">I find myself bombarded with such thoughts from time to time. Maybe it stems from a state of idleness, or maybe I’m one of the people crazy enough to believe that I need to entertain my thoughts, even if nobody else does. So, let’s take this one step at a time; and start on a journey to find our “true self”, discover who we really are, and uncover a new motto to live by – that it’s probably just us, and only us, against the universe, and that it might always remain that way…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">There are so many people on this planet with bewildering diversities in thought-patterns, belief-systems, and lives, yet we all seem to have adopted the image of one “common man” who strives to get through the day, get some sleep at night, and busy himself with the humdrum of life. Everyone is doing it! You can seriously see it happening all around you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Structurally, we are all the same molecules, we possess the same organs and our brains do not develop special structures and features on the basis of our different racial, regional or sexual background. Then, why are we trying to stand out? Isn’t all the effort going to be in vain? Since we are all so remarkably similar, let’s just try to fit in. Why should we try to think different when we all come down to the same matter? “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.” Remember? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> Why must you stand out when you can fit in? Why should you try so hard to be yourself? Isn’t that thought by itself sinful? Why do you want to make your voice heard over the seas of the crowds? Why do you want your thoughts to soar high above the clouds?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">It’s not easy to keep marching ahead when so many are trying to fit you in their mould. But, always remember, it’s you against the world. It is you against all of them. Stop feeling small, believe that you are Goliath. Don’t listen to the voices – they’re mistaken and are trying to confuse you too! Don’t dig your own grave by falling prey to their words. Just stand tall. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikjcwPnaSbsB8pWsg4Rwl9z3wUHC9M30WbJn5Z1fLxSccNC1KpK4XRHaGIvR23aZj0OGZvlSW_qPdjhae-SE8v3BDZvL2rRRVnmXgMob0LtyTf4CWfEIh3LeJIFwy3rxwcfM64d75zJpy8/s1600/OHGylrx.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikjcwPnaSbsB8pWsg4Rwl9z3wUHC9M30WbJn5Z1fLxSccNC1KpK4XRHaGIvR23aZj0OGZvlSW_qPdjhae-SE8v3BDZvL2rRRVnmXgMob0LtyTf4CWfEIh3LeJIFwy3rxwcfM64d75zJpy8/s400/OHGylrx.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">It could be a lonely night, but remember even when there’s no else, there is truth. It’s alright to be a little crazy because that is the real you. Life may seem terrible, but you have no clue – it’s actually beautiful, but the journey to the rainbows is you, just you…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">In the end, it is you against the world, and this place isn’t going to be your home forever. As the lights get dim, the Universe will embrace your dark, and your light. If the Universe can, so can you. You don’t have to wait until after the end. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">No one else matters. You matter. Only you. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Stop trying to fit in. Start standing out. Extraordinary people didn’t fit in. They broke the rules without caring what people thought. We are all books waiting to be written. But so many books have remained manuscripts in the mind, and never been chanced upon. You know why? Because we’re so busy trying to be “normal” that we don’t think crazy. Steve Jobs once said that those who think they’re crazy enough to change the world are the ones that actually do. Those are the books that get written. These are the people who do not apologize for being the way they are. They know that in the end, it’s going to be just them and their creator. The world does not matter. It never did.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">I like me, but there are days when I find it hard to love me. Yet, I choose to believe in me. I believe in my beliefs and thoughts. It does not matter who else believes in them too, as long as I believe in them as strongly as I possibly can. I try staying away from stereotypes. I try to be the truest version of me. And those who know we well, I’m sure they’d agree. Even if they don’t, it doesn’t matter. Believe me, it makes life a lot easier. Own your true self, be yourself, and be totally unapologetic about it!</span></div>
</div>
Divyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07478829599969479017noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1579954545688338958.post-66385904538807403652016-11-20T23:19:00.000+05:302016-11-20T23:19:34.090+05:30The Verdict of Love<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Love appears to be a silly form of a lost-and-found game. People say that when you love, you either completely lose yourself, or you become the truest version of yourself. Does that make love the best or the worst thing we do? Somehow, unbelievably and inexplicably, could it be both?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Could love be the best of the worst?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Who fixes broken people, if not for other broken people who’ve already been ruined? Sometimes, the messiness in our pasts that drives us, connects us with the same hurt at a sub-dermal level; making us recognize in others the kind of scars we cannot see in our cells anymore despite the writings being scribbled so deep. Isn’t that love? Love may take the shadows of our soul hostage, but in that lies our freedom. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Harry Potter showed us the power of love – young Harry survived the Avada Kedavra curse because of the love his mother, Lily, shielded him with upon her death. Even as a ten-year old when I read the book for the first time, I simply accepted Dumbledore’s explanation for Voldemort not being able to touch Harry – because he was protected by love – and never questioned it. It does not take a detailed equation to believe that love and magic are linked. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Being in love is a magical feeling – every person on this planet who’s had even a stupid crush can vouch for that! It is one small, four-letter word, yet it transcends space and time, saves humanity and becomes a survival instinct. Isn’t Cooper and Murphy’s love (enter <i>Interstellar </i>movie-reference) one of the purest kind? Maybe, in that, love is perhaps the best thing we do. And somehow, it does seem sensible to believe that love could be the fifth dimension in which we flourish, in which we survive. Love is the key to simply existing in a manner that neither the passage of time, nor gravity, nor data can achieve. Love shows us the path of transition from one blank space to another. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Maybe, love is just like all the other forces that make up the universe – unstable, just like all the radioactive elements we know, yet a stronger, driving force than gravity could ever be. Love can be the best and the worst. Love can turn us into either the best or the worst versions of ourselves. And love is the best AND the worst thing that we do, but we need to do it anyway. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<em style="box-sizing: border-box;"><span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">"But love doesn't make sense. You can't logic your way into or out of it. Love is totally nonsensical. But we have to keep doing it, or else we're lost and love is dead and humanity should just pack it in. Because love is the best thing we do</span></em>."<br />- Ted Mosby (How I Met Your Mother)</blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">You taught me well, Ted Mosby!</span></div>
</div>
Divyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07478829599969479017noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1579954545688338958.post-82051073470700922762016-11-17T12:29:00.000+05:302016-11-17T12:29:30.314+05:30Interstellar<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBgcx-Q5l-PqKgM4dVmRVCEaMU6VYyYK3txZKThxvORYmvrZa2mpoEpBpMuH0lmP4OL0dgwuXHA1BElz8dBbjGpQGigf3LgrQcskbqYaVIVQ1DRaXtOHGSUf0KuxYGzf8tcycSZgn_0L4-/s1600/nuclear+furnace.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="293" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBgcx-Q5l-PqKgM4dVmRVCEaMU6VYyYK3txZKThxvORYmvrZa2mpoEpBpMuH0lmP4OL0dgwuXHA1BElz8dBbjGpQGigf3LgrQcskbqYaVIVQ1DRaXtOHGSUf0KuxYGzf8tcycSZgn_0L4-/s320/nuclear+furnace.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 105%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 105%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 105%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 105%;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">He stared at his fellow-star tenant, and thanked her for the adventure. Space and time had fought, resulting in a break in the continuum. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 105%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 105%;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 105%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 105%;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">The shooting star he had wished upon was already dead. He’d believed her to be infinite, but at that moment, she felt empty…As empty as the vacuum that had existed in her heart when they kept taking pieces of her and she let them. He wondered if there was any word for that. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 105%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 105%;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 105%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 105%;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">She often accused him of acting like a storm that often came unannounced and left after uprooting her from her being. He did not dismiss that particular allegation – he was human, and storms are, anyway, named after people; nebulae are not. She was made of stardust – they’d crushed her and she’d let them. She was now going to become a star, because that is how stars are born: they crumble, collapse, burn and then finally glow. As a child, he’d stared at the twinkling stars in the sky and wished upon them, but ever since he met her, the twinkle in her eyes was all that he’d needed. Was there a word for that?<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 105%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 105%;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 105%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 105%;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">She’d wished for something that had destroyed her. Her love for him had moulded her, but, ultimately, what she’d been able to sacrifice had defined her. He couldn’t come up with a word for that.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 105%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 105%;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 105%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 105%;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">He’d always loved metaphors even though he had a hard time coming up with original ones by himself. Yet, life had given him the biggest metaphor in her form. Together, they’d embarked on an interstellar adventure, and in the name of allies, all they had were time pirates! Unfortunately, time had always been relative…Two years, two months, two weeks, two souls who kept responding to the hurt that was taken from them. What words could he use to define that? Time was relative, yes; but the hurts were subjective. Love had managed to transform them, and though it was always transcendent, their love had never been quantifiable.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 105%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 105%;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 105%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 105%;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">He knew she was probably laughing upon hearing of his cosmic dilemmas. To her, nothing was complicated. Love was nothing but a fleeting glimpse of eternity that would last forever; love had always been free falling, space racing, never running-away but more of a running-towards. Love was nothing other than the North Star which one could always gravitate back to. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 105%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 105%;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 105%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 105%;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">She wanted to return home to the star they came from. He used to call them “star tenants” because he believed they’d shared the same origin star. They’d embarked on the same voyage light years ago, but their pathways had been different. However, different star trails from the same star could only stay apart for so long until parallel lines and intersecting lines lost their meaning. The heart did not know of time, space, distance or choice. Heart-strings unravelled in the same way as did the fabric of the universe – there was a break in the continuum, and in their case it was a paradox of love called love. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 105%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 105%;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 105%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 105%;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">He used to believe that a black hole is a passage through space and time. She wished he’d understand that time always stood still, making darkness perhaps the perfect place to love somebody. He did not realize that black holes were hugely dense objects, with an inescapable gravitational pull. When he’d fall, he’d fall forever. Forever. It meant there was no way out. She wished he’d allow himself to succumb to the vulnerability, to the fall…Only if he fell, could she catch him. She wished he’d allow midnight to become the easel he’d aligned his stars on – to write of his future infinitely, just like the artist and writer he was. He needed to reel himself back in; he needed to realize that the pursuit of happiness is nothing but a secret locked for safekeeping with the diamonds in the sky. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 105%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 105%;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 105%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 105%; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 105%;"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">Space and time had had a fight, resulting in a break in the continuum. There was a break in the opposite end of the spectrum. What he’d believed to be infinite had become unwritten…Unwritten like the rest of his life before him. He wondered if there was a word for that. He realized that, indeed, there was a word for that! It was nothing but love. As he stared above, there it was! Against the dark sky, he saw a ray, an age-old ballad – of science and faith, love and hope. He saw white light - a million colours that briefly splattered across the easel, an aurora lasting all of eternity. He knew it was her light and in his heart, he preserved it and cherished it while it lasted. Finally, he no longer saw a black hole as a dead end anymore.</span></span><span style="font-family: Papyrus; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Divyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07478829599969479017noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1579954545688338958.post-60105298815814163162016-11-16T13:56:00.000+05:302016-11-16T13:56:35.875+05:30The Arrival<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<h2 style="text-align: left;">
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "papyrus"; font-size: 12pt; font-weight: normal; line-height: 107%;">She could not believe her eyes as she saw
the sight that lay in front of her. Finally, someone had tried flashing a torch
and attempted to alleviate the darkness that had become a constant feature of
her world. Suddenly, she felt as if her light had returned, and slitting the
throats of her dumb tunnels, finally, she found her voice back, tearing through
the vast emptiness of her long-neglected vocal cords.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "papyrus"; font-size: 12pt; font-weight: normal; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "papyrus"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Her beloved had finally come her way, and
she found herself overcome with desire yet again. The yearnings brimmed inside
her like the splattered paints on an artist’s palette that remind one of the uncontrollable
and inconsolable passion he has for the colours he imagines in his mind. But
wasn’t it now a little too late? Her branch of time hardly had any leaves left,
and despite being so close to love, there was still no way for her to
experience it to the fullest.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "papyrus"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "papyrus"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">He understood her dilemma. He had been
wandering for days with memories of her still lingering, and he knew that
despite being away, he was still loved. He realized how, blinded by the chase to
success, he had failed to sufficiently reciprocate the love that came his way. He knew that he was late, but he had returned
at last. He wished now for her to come to him, as with each kiss of hers, he fell
asleep, and as she tried to overcome the trysts of life and death, he wished to
wake up as she shone her light of dawn.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "papyrus"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "papyrus"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Time was definitely not on their side.
There wasn’t enough time to listen to his small broken tales of camaraderie,
but his return had finally pacified her lifelong frustration. No matter how
late it was, no matter in which condition they both were, they were both
together, they were both finally “home”. This final meeting seemed like a fun,
topsy-turvy merry-go-round ride that completely overshadowed the tiny, dancing
fireflies who stirred up fun, happy memories. The purpose of her life had been to meet her beloved, and once again, as she looked into his eyes, she saw herself, and realized that she had found her God. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "papyrus"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "papyrus"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">One life-time is never enough to accomplish all unattained desires. They still had to make several journeys together. But for now she knew, as she closed her eyes to rest, there was no next time.... </span></span></h2>
</div>
Divyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07478829599969479017noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1579954545688338958.post-15595646740649366412016-09-20T23:41:00.000+05:302016-09-20T23:51:01.794+05:30The Call<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It had been a long time since their last meeting. Every time, she missed him, she stared at the sky. After all, no matter where they were, they were all under the same sky; and they both fell asleep wishing under the same stars under the same sky they shared. People always told her that time is a wonderful healer, but she had seen how time had destroyed them – perhaps, it was too late for them to be able to salvage their situation. Time could heal, time could rip a person into pieces. But, time could not change the story. Ever since he had left, she found herself constantly swimming between two waves – the flood of letting in, and the torrent of letting go. Sometimes, she felt so frustrated that she thought it was time to just leave and turn to dust. If the essence of her life was leaving him, she wondered if she could just walk down the old path one last time, gather everything that she wanted and re-paint the entire road red. She missed the lazy evenings they spent together and wished she could just go back to simpler times. She knew there was still a chance – albeit a teeny tiny one – but she was not sure she wanted to take it. It required a lot of effort, and she wasn’t sure she could invest so much again. Besides, only a miracle could really save them, and she did not believe in miracles.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">As he waited for his train to arrive, he remembered the first time he had met her. The swarm of people rushing to enter the train while she was attempting to get out had scared her. As soon as she saw him </span>at<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> the platform, she just rushed into his arms, and the world around seemed to have come to a stand-still. The way she’d held on to him made him feel incredible and uniquely warm. He wondered if she had ever been horrified the way she’d been that day. It isn’t everyone’s cup of tea to endure the journey on Mumbai local-trains during peak-hours, and that had been her first time. In that moment, all she’d needed was a whisper and a hug. He hadn’t quite known what to do, but on that day, she’d made it clear that trust had no faces, only promises, and her vulnerability had involuntarily made him promise that he would protect her. She was the first person from whom he learnt that the world deserves to be loved; even by broken people, like her and him. As he thought of her, he realized that what they shared was beautiful, even though it had been dead for some years. Had it really been that long, or it just felt that way because time only seemed to fly when she was by his side chattering away to glory? He realized that the night did not always need to be dark and cloudy; light always shone to drive the darkness away. After all, they lived on a blue planet that circled around a raging ball of fire, next to a moon </span><span style="font-size: 12pt;">that moved the sea – who was to say that miracles don’t happen?</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">The time had come for change. It was time to recover the good parts of their life. Happiness was now just a phone call away, and this time he did not hesitate as he pulled out his mobile-phone and dialled her number. </span></div>
</div>
Divyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07478829599969479017noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1579954545688338958.post-66770910013771763522016-09-19T02:16:00.000+05:302016-09-19T02:16:35.289+05:30The Battle Of The Egos<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">He woke up early in the morning, before the sun got an opportunity to set his skin on fire, and went for a run. He enjoyed running. One day, he hoped to be able to race fast enough to finish life’s race. As soon as this thought crossed his mind, he stopped on his tracks abruptly. Why was he suddenly so interested in rushing through life instead of savouring every moment? He had never harboured any delusions of an easy life, but why was he choosing to run away from problems instead of attempting to solve them?<br />Deep down, he knew the answer. She had been his “problem-fixer”. All he had to do was tell her about what was bothering him, and she’d take care of everything. She had a knack for making all his troubles and worries magically disappear. But where was she now? He had no idea. <br />He wondered if he should send her a message. He was affirmative that she would reply. But then, he wondered, should he tell her about what was on his mind? Would she think he was only trying to reconnect because he needed her? He couldn’t just pick up the phone and tell that he missed her. Expressing feelings were her department, as was intuitively understanding what he was feeling even when he did not say a word. He had even stopped cyber-stalking her months ago. It was too painful seeing her constant updates with people who had once been ‘nobodies’. Even though she frequented places which were a stone’s throw away from his habitat, it bothered him that she never made any plans with him. She had always taken the initiative. Why should it be any different now?<br />He thought it best to keep his feelings to himself. Dismissing all thoughts about her, once again he began sprinting across the blocked paver. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">The never ending stretch of the sandy seashore seemed to confuse her way. The beach had become her new home, yet she was not able to decide how she felt about it. She’d been feeling this way for quite some time now. Since the last one year, she’d been tossing between choices, cities, and voices, and she could not remember the last time when she had felt like her old self. <br />Her old self always had a smile on the face, didn’t hesitate before greeting strangers with open arms, and always remained in a positive frame of mind. Where had this old self disappeared? Why did she feel so uprooted? <br />She’d always been a traveller. Shuffling places was not new for her. In fact, she quite enjoyed that part of her life. Perhaps, the problem was that he was not there with her…<br />Even though they had never frequented places together, having him in her life made her feel like home. He was her home – the home where she felt comfortable, where she felt safe and sheltered and where she could be her genuine self. When things went awry, as they often did, his voice was all she longed to hear. Just like home is a place that’ll always be there, not for once had she imagined a situation where he would not be around. Before him, she unknotted her burdens and he held them for her so that she could walk out of the door without the weight of her problems bringing her down to her knees. Home is where the heart is, and her heart always remained tied to him, no matter how far she wandered away. Every time someone mentioned home, her mind always led her to him. <br />She longed to be home again. So many months had passed. Did she dare to pick up the phone and give him a call? What would she say? What if he didn’t answer? What if the call made her realize that the picture of the home she had painted was a mirage, and in reality, her home had been long wrecked? What would she do then? It was best to wait for him to make a call this time. After all, nothing was over until it was explicitly stated so.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;">The call never happened. The text remained unsent. <br />Both clutched to hope with one hand and prepared themselves for disappointment with the other. <br />Ego had won this battle. Would the heart still manage to win the war?</span></div>
</div>
Divyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07478829599969479017noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1579954545688338958.post-16817059406002985232016-08-25T01:52:00.001+05:302016-08-25T01:52:35.866+05:30Anywhere<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 13.5pt;">She walked aimlessly on the deserted road, not really knowing where she wanted to go. It started to drizzle, and she looked around hoping to take cover before the rains got worse. </span><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 13.5pt;">He saw her standing by a dilapidated ruin of what appeared to have once been a tea-stall. She looked haggled and tired, but her spirit did not seem beaten. “Can I take you somewhere?” he offered. “I have a bike.”</span><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 13.5pt;">She smiled at him and wondered what to say. She could’ve asked him to take her home, but then she remembered that a storm had ravaged it. She wondered if he’d help her rebuild it, but it was too late for them to salvage it. </span><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 13.5pt;">“No, thanks,” she replied. “I’m just on this road, walking on.” </span><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 13.5pt;">“Where?” he prodded. </span><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 13.5pt;">“Away from the ruins, and hopefully, away from the storm.” </span><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 13.5pt;">Thunder rumbled and lightning struck. Without another word, she got on his bike and they rode along. </span><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 13.5pt;">“We’ll sleep anywhere we find shelter,” she suggested. “This storm is too strong!” </span><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 13.5pt;">“And finding shelter in this country-side is so rare. Do you know where shelter can be found?” he asked.</span><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 13.5pt;">She just tossed her head and replied, “Anywhere.” </span><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 13.5pt;">They stumbled upon an old, shady-looking hotel, and it had a room to spare. </span><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 13.5pt;">As she was about to crawl into bed, she warned him, “I often get nightmares when I sleep, but I dare not ask for your care. That would be too much kindness, of which I’m very scared. In case I wake up and cry, please forgive me. I only cry for my home and everything that I could once call my own.”</span><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 13.5pt;">She did not seem to realize that he was too baffled to respond. So, she continued to speak and he listened in silence, puzzling how from this situation he could abscond. </span><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 13.5pt;">She was murmuring to herself, “I told them to make the house stronger! I screamed for help! They paid no heed, and dismissed the need – it’s only a breeze, they said. Don’t worry unnecessarily. What is the need?</span><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 13.5pt;">But it was a storm alright. The very worst of its kind. I kept trying to save them. I told them to stay strong! But they huffed and puffed on the side of the storm, and there was not much I could do alone. Now everything’s gone! Everyone blames the storm! We could have saved everything, but they still blame the storm!”</span><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 13.5pt;">He looked at her deep-set eyes. “Is that why you are on the road, simply walking on?” </span><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 13.5pt;">“Well, walking isn’t all I do,” she laughed and pointed out, “I sometimes speak to strangers just as now I am speaking to you! But, generally I talk about the weather, because that’s what strangers do.”</span><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 13.5pt;">He laughed at her statement and assured her, “Now and then, it’s alright to digress. Conversation, path, or both, briefly. I am in no rush, and neither are you. There’s nowhere you have to be, and there is nobody awaiting me.”</span><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 13.5pt;">“I could go wherever I wanted to, except, of course, back in time,” she sighed. “But I am really tired now, tired of walking, of being, and tired of trying to rhyme.”</span><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 13.5pt;">“Then let’s just lie here, do nothing, think nothing,” he suggested. “How does that sound?”</span><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 13.5pt;">He took her silence to mean a ‘yes’ and continued talking along, “I want to look up to find a clear sky each day, and realize the universe is awesome.”</span><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 13.5pt;">She smiled in surprise and shared, “I want to believe that karma is a sure thing. I want to believe that there is something out there that ensures that things go right. That there is a plan. I’m not on it yet, but I believe there is a plan. I might have lost my home, but I still have two legs. I can go anywhere, and I’ll go where there’s happiness.”</span><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 13.5pt;">“And where is happiness?” he asked with a grin. </span><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="color: white;"><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 13.5pt;">She returned his grin with a twinkle and simply replied, “Anywhere.”</span></span></div>
</div>
Divyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07478829599969479017noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1579954545688338958.post-55625048278995669482016-08-22T02:09:00.000+05:302016-08-22T02:09:01.260+05:30Every Night<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">He was more than a thousand miles away, but he still stayed with her. He often said careless words, and sometimes, nothing at all. She still did not love him any less. Sometimes, she thought she could escape him by slipping into a different world, but he stayed with her even when she was asleep; and whenever she felt happy in a dream, she knew it was because the ripples of a forgotten river were laughing in his voice.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Why was it that there was nothing in her that wasn’t his? Why did he possess her to this extent? Of course, she knew the answers, but just knowing did not make the path to acceptance any easier…</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">She had always been her harshest critic. She was filled with flaws. Yet, he had managed to find some source of awe in her and made her see that she was beautiful. She found herself staring at herself through the small mirror called love each day. And each time, she only saw him there. </span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">She had always prided herself over being practical. Her eyes that had never dared to dream before his arrival, no longer dreamt at all after he left. Her dreamless eyes were still his.</span><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">She knew the vague words that she wrote with her hand were only desperate attempts to reach him somehow. He’d held her hand, and led her into thinking it was forever…</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">Her feet, when they had walked with him, were often lost. But in her heart, she knew that as long as they were walking together, no matter where they went, it was the right way. She knew that if he called, her feet would run to him even today, despite being weighed down with grief – grief over his inactions that let her leave.<br />
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br />
<!--[endif]--></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">Her lips quivered every time she thought of him. Once upon a time, they used to smile most honestly. The quivering lips were still his.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Claiming her heart should have been the hardest part, but he easily convinced it that he was true. Her heart had never believed in too much too soon, but it had really believed in him. But h</span><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">is determined destruction had been too swift. </span><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Now her heart was broken, but every fragment of it was still his. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">Now that he had left, she realized he had more than her heart, her feet, her lips and her eyes – he actually owned her whole. In the depths of her soul, there was now a void. And from somewhere there, even though it ached, she still loved him. He was a little raw piece of her. A piece that had gone missing. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"> <!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><div>
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-IN; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div>
</span><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">One day, she hoped she would be able to find her freedom. Somehow, she was convinced that she would be able to have it. It would be in everything; in everything that she wanted to renounce. She wondered what she would do then. She’d find herself in that everything. Then, what would she do with herself everywhere?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">As her mind agonized over these aimless rambles, once again, the night called to be awake. It wanted to stay longer with her, within. It was there that she’d meet him. Yet again.</span><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></div>
</div>
Divyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07478829599969479017noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1579954545688338958.post-14308576930311391632016-08-07T17:01:00.000+05:302016-08-07T17:01:08.215+05:30Be Your Own Friend<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Everyone around me is celebrating Friendship Day – my WhatsApp is flooded with messages on friendship, Facebook is filled with pictures and statuses of people dedicating messages to their friends, even my grandmother has received a friendship band from our cook!<br /><br /><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">While I have often stated that I don’t believe in celebrating a particular relationship on the basis of a particular assigned day (Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Valentine’s Day, etc.), this year my cheerful spirit seems to have achieved a new level of low on this particular occasion of Friendship Day. Somehow, this day seems to be a mockery of sorts! <br /><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">We’ve all been conditioned to believe that we need friends to get on with life. We’re all aware of the responsibilities and duties a “good” friend is expected to perform: <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Friends make our lives beautiful by dividing our sorrows and doubling our happiness. A true friend is always there for you whenever you need them. Friends are understanding, non-judgmental, and they will never let you down. Friends keep your secrets. They know what makes you happy and what bothers you. They know when you are upset, and not only know what to do to make you feel better, they actually go ahead and do everything it takes to ensure you always have a smile on your face. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">These are just some of the things that came off the top of my head; I’m sure there are many more! Now, how many of us have friends who can be honestly fitted into these perfect descriptions and definitions? In the real world, people aren’t perfect, and such an ideal friendship does not exist. In reality, every person we encounter is an acquaintance or associate with whom we are in close contact as the equation is mutually beneficial in some way or the other. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">All relationships are fluid. We may be extremely close to someone, but after a few years, the person could become as good as a stranger. Once upon a time, you and your friend stuck together like glue. Now, you two meet once in a few months only to catch up over dinner or a movie. There are conflicts now, but there is no attempt made to resolve them – it seems pointless because things will never go back to the way they were, and there is no point in making things worse. Often, their newsfeed is filled with news or events that you weren’t a part of, or you probably hear about significant events in their life from someone else. The transition often hurts, and to cushion the pain, we often live in a world of denial. But, the right thing to do is just accept the things that one can’t change, and move on.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">In reality, the only person who can be your “true friend” is you. No one will care for your happiness and wellbeing more than you. No one will put your needs before theirs. Only you can truly look after yourself and take care of your own needs. If you start putting others before you, you are being a bad friend to yourself. As cynical as it may sound, but, we are all alone in this world, and we have to fend for ourselves. There is no glory in sacrificing your wishes to fulfil someone else’s dreams – nine out of ten times, your sacrifice is not going to be appreciated, and you will only end up being taken for granted. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">This Friendship Day, resolve to fire those friends who do not allow you to be the best version of yourself. Fire those who expect you to leave everything for them at the drop of a hat, and won’t do the same for you even if you’re stuck in a world of pain. No matter how difficult it is, don’t tell yourself that you don’t have such selfish friends. We all know who they are – let us not welcome and celebrate toxicities in our life.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Spend some time comforting yourself when you’ve had a bad day. No one knows better than you what makes you feel good – instead of waiting for</span><span style="font-family: Papyrus; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> someone to do something, take charge and make yourself feel wonderful. If you need someone to talk, listen to yourself. Pay attention to your thoughts and get in touch with your feelings. Don’t judge yourself for feeling the way you do. Be yourself when you are in your own company. Get rid of the mask! This Friendship Day, resolve to become your own best friend. You are the only person you need. </span></div>
</div>
Divyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07478829599969479017noreply@blogger.com12