Sink in. Breathe. Swallow, and let it be.

Sink in.

Let the words guide you, take you to a land unknown. A land created by the creator alone, untouched by the vices of this world you live in. This world, you claim to be your home.

Breathe.

Slowly. Surely. Let the scents overwhelm you. Let experience take you to a land you have never dared to tread before.

The scents confound you. They drive you to extremes. You’re on a high, and then you’re down low. A sudden thought snags you, and stays put, refusing to be driven out. Till it is dealt with.

The drivel of your “home” is long- forgotten.

Swallow.

Everything that is said. Everything that is before your eyes. Let your mind guide you. Let the words be the map, warning you of dangers yet to come.

Let them be a warning.

Let them take you to a world you refused to acknowledge.

Heed the warning. But expect the unexpected. Or do not expect at all.

Let. It. Be.

As it is. This new world, this home away from home. . . it’s everything you wished for. Everything and more. And it will surprise you. A single sound will resonate in your mind. Every slap, will be remembered. Every taunt, will be answered.

This new world, this home away from home. . . is everything and more. Far more.

The sounds, the sights, the smells, the experiences, will be accounted for. You need not worry about remembering it, no. It’s here, before your eyes, awaiting your touch.

You just pick it up, and forget everything. You lose yourself in those words, and let your mind wander.

You don’t have to do anything, but sink in, breathe. Swallow, and let it be.

Sigh.

The first few days back home were bliss. Well, or so I felt. I was elated, so happy I’d finally be able to sit with my family, hug my mom and dad, discuss politics and business with my uncle. . . cuddle my dogs, and tease my lil bro (cousin though he may be).

For a while, I forgot all the tensions Pune left me to deal with.

I forgot about the anguish I felt when our ‘group’ split.

I forgot the gossip that found its way through college, I forgot my small PG room which I share with my ‘twin’. I forgot so many things that troubled me that I was convinced I’d never want to go back.

Well, I’m erratic. And I was so wrong.

I want nothing more than to sit in my one room PG, alone, and not care about the rest of the world. I want nothing more than to lie down, lose myself in a book (The Song of Ice and Fire series to be more specific), and breathe in the stench of that not-so marvelous city. I don’t even mind the gossip.

I want this pain to go away.

I want these memories to fade.

I want to be healed, but there’s just no scope for that right now.

Everything’s getting worse.

Way worse.

And I’m so tired of handling it.

My cousin gets brattier by the minute, and my uncles health sure isn’t improving. Dad’s calmer than the rest of them, and that’s saying a lot given I have his temper (which fuses every five seconds of the day- yes, I’m exaggerating that).

I don’t care that externals are around the corner.

I don’t care that there are vacations right after that again.

I don’t think I’m coming back those 20 days.

I think it’s time I took a break for myself and stayed away from everything familiar.

Yes. I think that’ll do me some good.

That, and some Old Monk.

Lots of Old Monk.

My Best Friend.

I had a best friend. I don’t remember him too well though. I do remember spending my childhood with him, for the most part. I remember his eyes. They were brown, and ever so solemn. They were beautiful. He was beautiful. Nobody thought otherwise for even a moment.

My best friend never let me down. He kissed my tears away, and he hugged me so tight that his warmth spread throughout my cold body. He never let me down. He was always there. Ever so patient, ever so caring. My best friend taught me everything I need to know to be a good person. My best friend, always waited. Quietly. In his corner. Every day. He waited for me to go to him. My best friend loved me, and I loved him so much that now, it hurts.

It hurts that I cant see him every day, or hold him tight. It hurts, ‘cause I never once told him I was there for him. I suppose he understood though. He was amazing that way. My best friend knew it all. He knew what to do, and when. Every single time.

My best friend died. I think, five years ago. I don’t remember his death. I don’t remember being there. I wasn’t there. My best friend died without telling me. He didn’t even warn me.

I abandoned him before he could.

I regret it now. Every day. My best friend meant everything to me, and he was taken away. I didn’t get a chance to tell him how sorry I am. Moreso now than ever before.
Nobody came close. Not one soul I’ve met in the years after him have come close to my best friend.

Bruno.

He wasn’t a human being. Human beings don’t understand each other very well. They don’t stay, they have their own issues to deal with. . . but my best friend, was not a human being.

He was the warmest being on earth. He would smile at me, every time he saw me. His tail would wag furiously, but he had not one for he was a dobermann. He was my baby. My everything.

My best friend once whispered in my ear that life would get difficult and I had to breathe through it. He nuzzled my neck, and forced me to cuddle him even though I was very annoyed at the world. I was 10. His eyes glistened mischeviously, and he wanted to play. My best friend sat next to me when I fell as we were playing. He didn’t pick me up, he just sat by me. He didn’t wait for me to get up, he let me take my time. I’m sure my best friend would have sat on me if he weren’t scared that I hurt myself. He didn’t lick my wounds, he told me they’d heal. I didn’t need anything to heal them, they’d heal, with time.

Time was all I needed. Time is what I never got.

But my best friend left a void in my life. He went away. I abandoned him, and he went away.
I shouldn’t have abandoned him, and his death should have been peaceful. He deserved a peaceful death. He deserved a peaceful life. He was my best friend and hed done so much for me. So much more than all the human race, together, could have done. My best friend taught me what life was, but he left me.

It hurts now. I feel empty. People don’t understand why I loved him so much. He was alive only for a short span of time. I wonder, though, was my best friend happy?

Did I give him enough love?

No.

I couldn’t have.

My best friend was smart. He was poignant, and brilliant. He was beautiful, patient, and caring. He didn’t get angry when I was annoyed with him. He didn’t bite me when I yelled. He never walked away. He was always there, standing, quietly, waiting for me. He never fought with me, I fought with him. My best friend was just that. . . a best friend.

He whispered that he’d have to leave soon, and it scared me. I’d hear him bark, and keep everyone away from me. He was over protective. He didn’t even like it when I hugged a family member, my parents and sister included. My best friend got jealous very easily, but he always came back to me. He never went away. He was always there, waiting for me.

I love him. So much. I miss him, more than I’d have ever imagined.

He was crushed. To his death.

And he didn’t deserve it.

I hate the human race for what they did to my best friend, but I hate myself more for letting it happen.
I should have fought, and taken him with us. I shouldn’t have let my mother give him away.
I found out about my best friends death from a cousin, over lunch. I nearly cried, but then I just bit my lip. I hated myself for letting him die. . . why did it happen?

I should have been the one punished, not my beautiful Bruno. He was the good one. He deserved a peaceful death.

I want to hug him. I want his hug, and his snout to kiss me. I want his warmth to spread over my body, and I want to look into his solemn, mysterious eyes and have him whisper that it will all be alright.
I don’t dream about my best friend, but I feel empty all the time.

I miss my best friend.

Nothing and nobody comes close.

Tuffy and Bruso learned well from each other, Bruno. You taught Tuffy well. To take care of me. You taught him so well, that he reminds me of you, every time I look at him. Bruso learned from Tuffy, too. You three are horribly naughty. You remind me of the other, and it makes me miss all of you more.

I left them too. But this time, I’ll bring them back. Just please give me some time to, okay? I don’t want to make the same mistake, but this room is too small for four of us. Just make sure they don’t go away like you did, Bruno. I don’t know what I’ll do. I lost you, I don’t want to lose them too. My best friends. My babies.

I don’t want anything to hurt you. I know you can’t speak to me, and now, you cant even show me, but show them okay? So that I know when I go wrong. It’s okay, I make mistakes, but you three are always there, forgiving me for every mistake. Not knowing what bad things I did. Not caring, even if I AM a bad human being. You love me all the same. And I love you.

For not judging me, and for telling me it’s alright. For hugging me, and only craving my attention, like I crave yours. For coming to me, and not caring about the rest of the world. For being there. . . every single time.

You make me happy.

Not having you around. . . not having any of you around, breaks me. And I don’t want to live any longer than Tuffy and Bruso. I don’t think I’d be able to take it. I know, it’s very selfish of me. It’s very human of me to be so selfish. It’s a revolting thing, this selfishness, but I cant imagine my life without any of you.

You’re already gone Bruno. If Tuffy and Bruso go too, what will become of me?
I just hope you know that, Bruno. And I hope you’re in doggy heaven, getting more than what you deserve. You were, and always will be my best friend, my baby, my guide. I love you.

Wait for me. Like you always have.

Wait for me, and wag your tail furiously ‘cause I’ve been gone too long. You’ve never liked that. You’ve never liked it when I was too far away for too long. I remember.

But please, wait for me.

I need my best friend. .

Beauty is in the Eyes of the Beholder

I'm not exactly someone you'd call hot. Don't have the body for it. Perhaps not the face either- so I believe. I'm not pretty- I completely miss the mark of charm- so I seem to think. I'm not ugly either, even though I've said I am out loud a hundred thousand times.

No. Not quite any of those. I suppose you could call me plain. Yes, that seems about right.

Then again, who am I really? Inside I feel like a sloppy blob of nothing. Sometimes I feel like a bird that's broken free of her cage. The wind, that races itself, carefree, least bothered. I feel like a mountain, the highest point in the land. People scale me just to feel a wee bit superior for the lesser mortals lay before them. They feel supreme. I feel like the sun rise, glowing. The sun set, calming. I feel like twilight, yes. Twilight. Serenity
I feel like a moon goddess. Radiant as ever. Like the stars, forever twinkling

If you look deep inside, you'll see it all. But only if you look. For inside me, all the wonders of nature brew. The whispering leaves, the budding fruit. The flowing streams, the dancing flowers.

Yes, if you look into my eyes, they'll swallow you up and lead you to my world. A world where everything thrives, where everything else grows. I have my conflicts, the occasional tsunami, earthquake. Some more devastating than others.

A tree might fall, lightning may strike. My world may crumble into dust.

But then, the overcast sky clears, and the wind will blow away insignificant particles to reveal the grass, much greener than before. The sky smiles down on you. You're alright.

I have my storms. Sometimes, the rage is beyond my control. The sun may burn you, beyond your ability to withstand it. Or I might make you shiver, for the snow may drown you. You may freeze, if the warmth doesn't find you.

But when it does, you'll be new. Glistening, glowing. Bright with many ideas, with new hope.

The dew will fall on the leaves, and the day will be calm again.

Yes, I'm plain.
But within me, beauty is at its epitome, or so I will always believe.

The Ripple

Zoning out becomes rather obvious when you’re among this hoard of people who will NOT stop laughing. Then, your mind’s eye awakens, and you’re so lost its crazy. You laugh anyway- just so they won’t know that you really weren’t listening.

You take a breath, and smile a smile that’s from ear to ear. You fake the laughter, you get ahead of yourself. You’re glowing. They fall for it, not a care in the world. But your eyes let on more. . .

Someone looks at you, that moment when you’re not smiling anymore. Your smile slips, just a little, falls by a millimetre or so, and you’re caught. You catch their eye, in that moment, they know. And you look away, unable to get a hold of yourself again. Your phone rings, you excuse yourself, step out to answer it. It wasn’t anybody- just your excuse to get some fresh air.

You lean against the wall, your head tilted back, as you look upward, toward the overcast sky. You take in a deep breath, the stench of the city, the smell of a stranger or few, cigarettes, booze, and then . . . the calming wind. The breeze . . . that carries with it the scent of a daisy. So soulful. So calming . . . so soothing.

You hear the door open, and you’re on your guard. Your friend walks up to you. . .

“What’s taking so long?”

You didn’t realize a half hour passed by. You apologize, and tell them you’ll be back in a few minutes. You just need some breathing space. They look at you, unsure of whether or not to leave you by yourself. You usher them in, smiling right through, letting on that your life is perfect, even though it feels anything BUT perfect. You grin some more, the glow’s overwhelming. They believe you. They’re their nonchalant selves again. You sigh in relief.

You take a short walk; sit by the window sill of some random insignificant shop. You reflect.

What brought you here? Why is it “here”? With “these” people? You hardly know them, it’s been just a while, hardly enough, and you’re spending every waking moment with them. They barely know you; most of them probably don’t even care. You’re too well known, for all sorts of reasons. Some good. Some notoriously bad.

It doesn’t matter.

It doesn’t seem like anything matters anymore. I’m just here. I guess, ‘because I have to be. 

Perhaps the lamest excuse ever, but it cannot be helped.

I’m an eighteen year old, living with her best friend in a one room PG, in a city known not to me by culture, or history. By people, or scenery.

Yet, I have been led here. Life, my life, has led me here, so here I am. I’ll embrace it. This isn’t what I want to write about though. I want to write about the void that is thriving within my body. The void that is slowly beginning to spread from the centre of my being to the rest of my being. . . eating at me, like a parasite, it’s host.

The emptiness, that battles with my heart. My heart, giving up, slowing down. My pulse, beating, quickly, and then, dying . . . suddenly, lifeless, soulless.

I'm here, physically. Very much present.

My mind wanders, though. In different directions. It spirals out of my control. Like it isn’t mine TO control. It heads north, south, east and west. It heads north east. South west. And it refuses to pay any heed to where it’s headed. It steers itself, like the wind. It pays not any attention to the sails, and the sails are blown over. It has no need for them. It doesn’t want anything to do with them. It needs not any support. It has itself.

It wants nothing else.

It needs . . . nothing else.

Like the water that begins when a glacier melts, distributaries meeting their tributaries . . . that flow into the vast ocean. There’s a direction, but there are currents that fight them. 

There are external factors, which change their course over time.

There are instances, they are blocked, where they have to weather down the rock, or 

evaporate from it.

Thoughts, however, do not evaporate. They fade away, till they come back. Thoughts always come back. In some form or the other. Knowledge, changes, with the amount of information you grasp. It does not exist, when in vacuum. Your perceptions are only based on what you know.

I base my life, on what I already know.

Hearsay is a dangerous thing.

But experience . . . is vile.

Yet, experience, is what guides us. Through thick and thin, up and down.

Through life.

And experience, changes.

For change . . . like dad always says. . Is the only constant thing in life?

Change.

I wonder what it’s like to be dead.

Will I be lost in oblivion forever?

Or will I be given a choice between ‘heaven’ and ‘hell’? Is there a heaven, a hell?

Will I float, in the sky, just above this world, and look over my loved ones, and my not so 

loved ones. . . over people I do not know, will never know? Might never know?

Will I float amongst the stars, shining as bright as them? Will I talk to them, or will I whisper 

to the leaves?

Will I join the wind? Or will I be one with the water?

Will I be a leaf? Or a tree? Perhaps a bird . . . ?

Perhaps, nothing?

Maybe death IS the end.

Maybe, it’s more.

But maybe . . . it’s nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

The calming breeze is ice cold now. It makes me shiver. Makes my hairs stand on end, and my spine becomes ram rod straight. My half hour has passed by. The monotony of this world is calling me.

So, I shall leave now. I shall do my duty and attend to the world, for it is time. Time to put on 

the mask of an automaton, yet, still fake laughter, and glow like I’m the sun.

I know not any other way. So, this is the way I shall continue with.

I shall be the sun, the moon, the stars.

I shall be the wind, the water, the earth.

I shall be the leaves, and the trees, and I shall whisper . . . every passing moment. I shall 

whisper.

To you. And to anyone who wishes to listen.

I will whisper.

And hope. . . . you listen.

I AM proud to be an Arts student.

“I am an Arts student, and proud of it.”

In India, the Arts subjects aren’t treated as they are abroad. Now, that’s a fact known to all. Sometimes, it even makes sense, what with Bangalore being the IT capital, Silicon city, amongst other things, Mumbai, Chennai and Google knows how many other places only adding to the “glory” of our land.

Yes. We train engineers, software, mechanical, architectural, aeronautical. You name it. We have splendid doctors. At a point in time, not more than a decade ago, being a doctor was the “in” thing. Now, it’s engineers. Begin in 8^th- 9^th grade. Train your children. Send them to coaching classes, BASE, and ACE and what not. Tell them they HAVE to be in IIT- Bombay. Or IIT-Delhi, IIT- Kanpur. Brainwash them, and make them BELIEVE that there is NOTHING else out there that is worth their time, or worth your money.

I’m not even kidding. Not even close to over exaggerating. This IS how India works. In this land where corruption is rampant, and law and order is the last thing on any family’s mind. In a land where being part of the Army, the Navy or the Air Force is looked down upon because women get raped and men are dogs. In this land, this land we call our “Dharti”, our home, our mother. In this land, there is no place for a psychologist, or a political science teacher. There is no place for a major in Literature, or in Fine Arts.

There is no place, for anyone who wishes to be anything but an engineer, or a doctor.

We ask ourselves why our children don’t do well.

Your children, who dared to take a stand and say “I want arts, nto science. Not commerce!” ask themselves why they’re not given as much preponderance as the Science girl who topped her class or just a subject. Or, the commerce student who maxed her paper.

To us arts students, someone who tops a Political Science paper, is brilliant.

Someone who tops an Economics paper, is genius.

Someone who aces history, is applauded.

Why? I’ll tell you why. We work just as hard, if not harder. Laugh, if you do not believe me. But before you do, I ask you to do one thing.

Take out the prescribed ISc text book.

Then, look up an ISc question paper.

Solve it.

And get a lecturer to grade you. Not just any lecturer, someone brilliant. Maybe your mentor. Even better, someone who has not the slightest clue who you are.

For us, the answers aren’t in our text books. They are in the world around us.

For us, it is being AWARE, and ACHING for more knowledge that matters more. Is that why we are undermined? Because we don’t stick our noses in our books, day in and day out, and prefer to watch the news instead?

Or is it because you’re afraid? Afraid that we are far too honest, far too cynical? Don’t we have reason to be?

We don’t want to ace, we want to be recognized. We want to be told “You’ve done a brilliant job” by someone other than our teachers, who treasure us. Who we treasure.

You can mug up formulas, I know it’s difficult. But it is not impossible. I am NOT undermining the Science stream, I’m just saying. . We’re just as good as you are. We work just as hard, and we’re just as accomplished. Sometimes, we’re smarter.

Lawyers don’t take their jobs seriously because no one cares what they do.

We know the Heads of Governments, Heads of States, because we feel it is important, not because syllabus says so.

It’s like mugging a formula. Except, it isn’t. Why?

For the simple fact that formulas don’t change.

(A+B)²is going to remain a² + b² + 2ab.

 Governments, on the other hand, do. They evolve. They HAVE to be IN tune with the present generation and all of its needs.

Else, the government fails. It is voted out of power. It goes to hell.

We have theories, disproved or proved, like those of Plato, Aristotle, Hobbes, Locke, to name a few, just like the laws of Physics. These are the very foundations of the laws of a political system!

Don’t you see it? To go back in the times of Aristotle, to formulate theories based on “Polis” (Greek city- states, as they were known), around 335- 323 BC? That, my dear friends, is sheer brilliance, and nothing more.

Aristotle cannot be forgotten for his many contributions like the “essence of things”, or “form”. Or, even his five elements- Earth, Fire, Wind, Water, and Aether. Of Motion, Casuality, Optics. Of chance and spontaneity. His contributions to metaphysics, to biology and medicine.

No. He will not be forgotten. Not by students of Science, and definitely not by the students of Arts. He was a great man. Irrespective of his controversial theories. But life’s not like that anymore.

It’s about prizes, accolades. Awards, recommendations. It’s about being mentioned by a great man, about being quoted after death.

Well, that’s not what I’m looking for. I’m going to work behind the scenes, and I’ll be work till I drop. While I’m at it, I will hold my chin up, and I will smile, while I remind myself that,

“I AM proud to be an arts student. . .

Because I’m going to make my mark, and show this world. . We’re more than they’ve made us out to be.”