Habitat

Little people live in my ear.
When I plug my ears, their oxygen supply is cut out. They get agitated. I can feel them running around frantically. If I still don't let air in, they start banging the walls.
Sometimes, they use fire.
I give in, eventually and they stop.
If I listen hard enough (I'm not exactly sure on how this listening hard inside your own ear thing works) I can hear them. I can't specifically hear what each one of them says, but I can hear a buzz of multiple conversations and tones. They're just like us, btw.

There you go. Your quota of thought provoking bullshit for the day :)

The Aftermath

I am in love with Nasr city. There's no other way to explain my obsession with it. And right now I've been dumped on my butt. I'm still crazily in love with Nasr city while the place is in another continent and time and the reasons for my unyielding devotion (my people) live in tiny pinpricks spread all across the freaking globe. I, like some hopelessly heartbroken people, hold on to a Utopian idea that isn't ever going to exist outside my imagination, and I won't let myself get over it.

I'm the reacher in our relationship. Nasr city was so completely out of my league that I never thought it would settle for me, but I'm ever so grateful that it did if only for a short time. Those few days were life changing. Having established the amazing but inaccessible awesomeness of Nasr city, I think it's safe to say that I was a bit insecure. Alright, very insecure. Each of those brilliant days I felt loved, like I belonged, sometimes even like it was my destiny to find my way there. The whole deal about how you only appreciate the value of something after you've lost it? Yeah that didn't happen with me; I always knew exactly what Nasr city was and how much it meant to me, I even had a fairly accurate idea about how I'd be after I left. So every day I had hoped and prayed that time would freeze so it wouldn't end.

Despite having the greatest time, there was an extremely annoying voice that I couldn't shake, one that makes gives me hell today, that kept telling me (reminding me, the voice corrects) that while it was true that I felt like I belonged - one of the wonderful charms of Nasr city - it would never really be mine. Even now I call it "Nasr City" not "my apartment", also my destiny had planned for me to NOT go to Nasr City... Heheh but I went anyway. And that could be why the Fates are pissed off at me now? ityby making the Fates really pissed off at me, and maybe that's why they're being so mean to me now.

I mean this shit SUCKS!! Like really really really REALLY sucks! I hate being back. Don't get me wrong, I did miss being home. But this is different, I can't really explain how it is. And I'd give just about anything to go back (back in time as well).

It's also completely unfair. It's been over a month! I'm hardly any better than I was when I got back. I still spent half my time playing the same memories over and over in my head. Dreams are still abusive, in the sense that I'm disoriented when I wake up in my room. Other memories ambush me constantly, for example when I say something like "Fine, don't tell me shit." A phrase I use almost daily, except now I can't say it because it takes me back to a place or a person or an incident, and that would be the end of any decent mood coz I'd start sulking. It's made me verbally handicapped, dammit! To make shit worse, my brooding seeps into my memories and swirls around in my insecurities and pukes out a concoction of poisonous thoughts. It starts with how it's over, then how I didn't get enough time, how it never was mine, how maybe it was all in my head, how maybe I had misinterpreted simple things and made them out to be much bigger than they actually were, how maybe I was an inconvenience, how it was wrong and selfish on my part to try to wriggle my way into their home and lives, making it less perfect for them. Thankfully, the concoction reaches a point where things are so toxic that they're not believable anymore, and I go back to thinking Yay! I have amazing friends! I'm loved ...Well, I was loved and then I relapse.
I should say I know amazing people! I'm so glad I got to spend time with them. I know that my joy of having spent time with them is incomparable but the question is, were they happy to have me around?

You see what I mean by it sucks, I suck - I loathe the voice! The I'm loved phase lasts for about a minute, the rest of the day I mope at the mercy of the voice. SUCKY SHIT!

But in spite of all this messed up drama within, I can say with absolute certainty that I will always cherish my memories and love the people in them unconditionally. If any of you come across this blogpost and want to pull out my internal organs, all I can say is I cant help thinking this shit; it's not like I like have these thoughts. I hate it. Also, during the YAY phase, I completely dismiss them. Im not fickle minded about the other part though, I honestly do love you guys and I will continue you to do so until you make your way to Delhi and manage to pull out my intestines and end my life.

The Clock's Ticking

Under the brown bean bag, there in an unnaturally large gathering of tiny red ticks. One of them stand on top of a grain of sand and addresses the crowd.

"Chicku (Kalyani's beautiful amazing Labrador) has been home to us for generations. Until that wretched day a week ago when the humans forced us to evacuate; polluting our pristine ecosystem with chemicals so lethal that the eggs wouldn't hatch, the elders went crazy and even breathing became impossible. With no alternatives, we left Chicku. Leaving everything behind! Our homes, our food source, our livelihoods, and some cases even our children ...we had to, because no matter how much regret, sorrow or guilt we bear in our hearts, we must survive. 

But the ravenous humans, the despicable, deplorable, dreadful, decietful creatures that they are, won't ever stop. In the worst of times, when millions of bugs are trying to adapt to a new and hostile environment, do they stop? Oh no. They kill. Merciless. Too many innocent ticks have died!

Yes, the humans are huge. And yes they have metalled shoes and pesticides. And we will all die... 

Yes, we will all die. But our story will not be mentioned in their easy wins. Oh no, we will die but we will give them hell before we do. We shall fight! Fight with all our numbers, all our strength! WE WILL FIGHT!"

On cue, Kalyani walks into the room. She's thinking about something and doesn't notice the ticks. She turns on her laptop and folds herself onto her regular spot on the floor. Her brain has already given most of the grey matter a break as she gets sucked into the world of Facebook where she will do god-only-knows-what-ish things for the next few hours. Little does Kalyani know that those would be last hours.

Within minutes, the entire tick population is ready. they split into groups. Two lines advance along the edges of the red wall - perfectly camouflaged, the bravest group moves over the lines of the tiles on the floor, the fastest ticks scuttle around the entire room to attack from the far side. 

Kalyani doesn't know whats hit her. One second she's going through her notifications, and the next she's got a live coat of ticks engulfing every inch of her. She feels them plunge their tiny fangs in at a thousand places simultaneously. At the same time she can also feel their feathery movement all over her skin. She's terrified beyond the limit she thought was humanly possible. Her mind, in full panic mode, shows her jumping wildly and thrashing her limbs to get the bugs off, but before her body can pull itself up the ticks make their ways into her brain. They find their entry points in her eyes, nose and ears, and steadily bite through everything they see until they reach her brain. Once there, they work on severing every nerve connection they found. Before long, Kalyani goes limp. Her pupils dilate, her muscles give way and she collapses in on herself like a bedsheet that was suddenly bed-less. There is no peace in death. Not in hers, not in any of the tick's she'd killed.

The ticks celebrate their victory and wait for the other humans to come and wipe them out. 

Cool Dude

(Through college I've volunteered with an NGO called Adharshila where we provide supplementary education to the kids of the neighbourhood)

At the centre we have a sort of semi class between the main class and the lunch break. During this time a few kids drop by, I’m not sure what exactly their relationship with the NGO is though. One day, a larger group came in and I saw some faces I didn’t recognize. This is when I saw cool dude for the first and only time.

Cool dude was a skinny little kid, just barely three and half feet. He was tiny! Winter had ended and it was getting rather hot, but cool dude was too cool for that; he wore an almost cowboy like jacket which flapped around behind him as he walked, underneath he had a tight shirt which was had the top few buttons undone and skinny jeans. But the outfit wouldn’t be complete without the pair of shades hooked on to the back of his collar.

Cool dude walked into class swaying to a rhythm in his head, was completely indifferent to the volunteer madam-s who the other kids went to. After a while he decided to grace these madam-s with his attention. He dropped his book in front of me. “Madam, kaam do.” I was very impressed with the attitude of this little creature who was barely as tall as my elbow, I asked him what his name was. He shot his arm out and pointed at his tattoo – DEEPAK. He really did not seem interested in doing work; when I asked him if he knew the alphabet and counting, he looked at me like I was being ridiculous. So I just gave him some simple sums. He came back looking proud. As I had suspected, he didn’t know how to tackle large numbers. So I explained to him how the carrying numbers over thing worked.

You should have seen his face! The simple act of leaving the units number down there and adding the other one with the tens seems to unlock all the mysterious secrets of the universe! Uninterested cool dude who would barely talk to me had disappeared, and Deepak was in top form; ready to tackle all the math sums in the world. I gave him sets of eight sums that he would bring back faster than the rest of the kids. A few sets into it, he started explaining the concept to a girl who had difficulty grasping it. In fact, she seemed to understand it better with Deepak’s enthusiasm.

When my friends and I were leaving, our coordinator approached me with tiny Deepak hiding behind her. She said that Deepak told her this madam teaches us good things. He wouldn’t look me in the eye, but no one could have given me a bigger compliment. And when he saw me packing up my things, he came up to me and happily buried himself under a pile of homework for the week. I told him I’d be back next Monday and that I should see him in class. He assured me that he’d come everyday, but I didn’t see him again.

I am disappointed that I didn’t get to see Deepak again, but he gave me a crucial dose of encouragement and helped me believe. If nothing else, Deepak will always know how to carry numbers over. 

The Bomb!

The class 12 batch (2011-2012) of Kendriya Vidyalaya Pattom was blessed with a unique bunch of girls. Zarin, Nazrin, Alina and Kalyani (the last one is me, btw). This is not to say that there weren’t other interesting people, because in my 6 years in KV, I met and got close to a lot of very exciting people. But I mention the 4 of us specifically because we were called by some, the “Vedi Gang”. For those of you, who are unfamiliar with the term, quite frankly put it means the Slut Gang. I've left KV Pattom and won’t ever go back there, and I honestly couldn't care less about what some lousy shithead wanted to call me.

But yesterday, Alina’s friend asked me not to ‘cntct’ her because ‘it wil affct her lyf’ if she keeps up her ‘cmpny wit us 3 ppl’. Make no mistake, I don’t give a crap about his insights of me, but when he tries to mess around with my relationships with my friends, that is where I decide to write about it publicly.

What constitutes a “slut”? Rather who gets the privilege of being called one? Because I can assure you that there was not one girl in school who sold her body for money. So is it a girl whose uniform is tight fitting and doesn’t resemble a sack? A girl that looks good perhaps? Who doesn’t have a decent haircut (whatever that means)? Is it a girl who talks too much? About things that must not be mentioned in public? Who doesn’t know her place? Who uses bad language? Is it a girl who talks to too many guys? Or one who has had multiple boyfriends? Or a girl that, god forbid, flirts?

If anyone says yes to all or any of those, it’s high time they got themselves checked. Regrettably, there are shitheads everywhere who not only believe but also preach such definitions of a “slut”. My objective is not to point out how messed up society is (which it is, btw, at magnitudes that defy hope) and this is merely a response to my conversation with the shithead last night.

However, I do have one thing to say. These “sluts”- I know quite a few of them, including the 3 I already mentioned- are simply extraordinary! They (or we) are smart, sexy, confident people who don’t take crap from anyone. Call me “slut”-ist (like elitist) but contrary to the term, we are completely and so utterly out of their (slimy lowlife shitheads’) league. And if being all that makes me a “slut”, I’m extremely proud to be one. 

Lilliputian Lit

 Five, seven and five

Japanese haiku, it seems

Bloody hard it is.

It falls and it falls

Outside control, merciless

My hair and the snow

Moves in cryptic trance

Reflected off the dark glass

The flame in the hearth

A female walked by

Upraised ears and straightened tail

Thus I stood my ground.

Suns Set

The sun is big and red in the sky. The view is better from the terrace. During the climb up the stairs the sun is hidden from view but the memory of it is more incredible; it’s a perfect circle with the most amazing colour – to call it merely “red” is injustice – that fills the world with happiness. It’s pasted in the canvas it deserves, dark blue above gradually turning lighter to a perfect orange around the disc. It’s a fogless day, there are no clouds either, and there is magic in the uncorrupted play of colours in the sky.

Then the stairs end and the terrace opens out ahead. The brilliantly glowing star shrinks, dulls down to its original shade and loses some of its grandeur, as does the sky behind. It is still beautiful though.

I have never really seen the sun set. But this time I’m adamant. I hold on to the cold concrete wall separating me from the 10-story fall, and I stare at the sun. My peripheral vision notes lone birds fighting the chilly breeze, little kids dragging themselves home as the night advances; things that I would normally pay more attention to, but not today. Not today because similar things have cost me sunsets before, you look away for a minute and the sun is gone. And it doesn't make sense how abruptly and without valediction it disappears. So now I concentrate on the red circle.

In the 10 minutes that I spend purposefully motionless, the sun moves further down. And I realize 2 things: One, that the horizon is not where I thought it was at all. It was not the meeting point of the sea and the sky. Not for the sun. Its horizon or point of crossing over was at a much greater height. So I suddenly find myself with much less time than I thought I had with it.

And second that as it moves toward its finish line, it fades progressively. The red blurs around the edges and seeps out into the orange background... The sky loses all of its beauty when I gather that it has been stealing my sun, as I stood watching. The sky was still exquisite in itself and I would have been able to appreciate that had it not been depriving me of the sun’s company.

I put my anger aside because I am down to our last precious moments together. And though it was a clear day, the colours seemed to have a layer above, dulling them like a thin sheet of cloud. The sun is not nearly as glorious at it was earlier, but its majesty does not matter anymore, there is only an inexplicable need to keep it there a little while longer. My stare intensifies with this need, as though with more effort on my part I could slow its departure. I don’t notice immediately that as I concentrate on keeping it there, the bottom has already gone.

The sun and the sky are almost the same colour now. And then the entire thing vanishes. I panic but don’t look away. I blink and I can make out a hazy semicircle. When I blink, it appears for a few seconds and then disappears again. My blinking becomes more frequent and my time with the faint picture is briefer. Then I wonder if I am imagining it there.

Shortly after, my imagination fails me, too. Suns set, it is inevitable. And I am alone.