Monday, 15 September 2014

A moment of introspection can give the illusion of standing at crossroads, at the juncture of something huge about to happen to your life. But then sometimes, we are used to giving our lives more importance than they actually deserve, or were even created for. While the limits of the narrow vision allows you to see the world as concentric ever-widening circles revolving around your life, you are probably not there in some circle at all. A random spec in some obscure space of the cosmic mind: you matter only incidentally, temporally, placed in the narrative only by the dint of time, to be erased, overwhelmed by the tide of due course. But then, human mind is prone to making callous overestimation. A moment of cosmic whim must be given its due importance, a moment of whim where you are hurled back to feeling like being in the centre... And that cosmic gaze too appears to see the centre in you. There's always a moment of chance, choice, to make life appear so much more; that it actually becomes larger. 

Saturday, 9 August 2014

Measuring the giants

You know, as a child, I was always wondering where the skies ended. Could I touch the walls. As I burst through the clouds in my first airplane ride way back in school, the child in me almost gasped that I have shot in to the other side. I peered through the windows, saw the Himalayas as minions made of Plasticine by some unimaginative child, and I looked awed that I could see famous peaks within the line of a single vision. It was breathtaking in it's magnum opus scale. But seen from afar, tiny chain of whiteness really, the uninitiated would just ignore it as a rather well defined chain of clouds. Just another temporary strand of the universe.

The power of the Giants, the force of the strong is overwhelming. And looking back, the Giants bursting into the teenager's vision as distant minions, capable of being grasped within a single line of perception, redefined the notion of overwhelming awe. The awe shifted: to being able to see the giants small from a distance.

You know, I sometimes wonder where the mind ends. Where my boundaries lie, and why the boundaries seem to navigate in the spaces of my heart to set up whimsical temporary values that whither as soon as they crop, only to be replaced by new. I refuse to write about literature, the more real-world, and things that matter for the pretense of worldly-wise-wisdom. The real real is somewhere floating out there. Giant, gigantic, overwhelming. But sometimes to the mind, they are like the big mountains suddenly compressed, distanced, within a single line of vision. And there's something exhilarating about this discovery. Life is neither more nor less. It just needn't be measured.

Thursday, 29 May 2014

I do no profound

If I could be a Jedi, my lightsaber would ooze out talcum powder against the sun with mortal vengeance. Yes, I am back to the city of joy with a slap of sweat to greet me. As I hopped on to a crowded bus and hung myself like a pro from the divine rods of public transport, the entire people of Calcutta welcomed me through the olfactory. I am pretty sure I contributed as much to this cosmic device of syncretism where sweat meets sweat, complaints for weather meets complaints for weather to unite a people under one single heated sky. I love Calcutta. Even though it makes me want to sleep with Dermicool more than anything/one else. 

P.S: An ode to every conversation starter since the last two days.

Thursday, 6 February 2014

You have been ignored for too long.

So, clearly I had misunderstood the quirks of education. It consumes your life. But as an employed friend of mine points out, it always appears that life is greener on the other side whereas it's all the same muck, really. But I stand by my argument that it is indeed lush green on the other side.

The other point of concern apart from education and unemployment is the strange phenomenon of holy matrimony that seems to have hit my friends in a somewhat domino effect format. When I had first started writing for this blog, I was all immature and sixteen. At (soon to be) twenty-four, I am as immature and sixteen minus the sweetness and all that it was supposed to entail. To top it all, being taught feminist discourses does not really help. It adds to the general idea that the best thing to do in life is to keep a pet cat, and even that can wield assertions of power that will steal your moments of individual freedom by not budging from that spot on the couch from which you get the perfect view at the television. Ah well.

But the point is, I feel I need to write more often. Expressions into anonymous familiarity helps. Yes, I screwed up what I thought would be crucial junctures of my life, a point of no return. I survived. Mostly because I exaggerated their effects on me. When we look back, things are way too funny while we have probably tackled those presents which grim seriousness that we thought they deserved. But that's a good thing. The future is all about more funny things to happen for their future to look back upon, and the tale of survival isn't bad. I mean, look deep enough, we tend to exaggerate sorrows anyway.