What the hell is wrong with the world?

“What the hell is wrong with the world” this is one phrase that’ll always be valid under all circumstances. Every single time. It has been valid for as long as I’ve lived and it’ll be valid for as long as you and I will live. Every day. Every minute. Every second. I remember watching Anjaam, the movie starring Shah Rukh Khan and Madhuri Dixit where tragedy after tragedy befalls the heroine and I remember being pissed at the movie for being so unpleasant and over-the-top-not-real and exploiting their exaggeration rights, I mean so much bad cannot happen. Can someone be so cruel, so twisted, so diabolic? Is it even humanly possible? I dismissed, ignored, labelled it as a bad movie and moved on with my life. I could sleep on it, thinking its just a movie, not real life. But, wow. Boy, was I wrong. The world is slapped with this reality day after day after day. We are so broken. So broken that we’re capable of inflicting and enduring so much pain and yet go on with our lives. The poor kid, all of 8 years old, had to go through so so much. It's unnerving. And a million other girls. We have failed so much, we couldn’t teach our kids. We let them grow into monsters. I cannot turn a blind eye, not this time. Yet, there’s nothing I can do about it, or about the news, I’ll hear tomorrow or the day after, every single day. I cannot do anything. We are drowning every single nanosecond as a society and not even a miracle can save us. No magic wands. No good books, no poems, no cheerful kids, no charities, no good deeds. I wish I had no brains, that I was a uni-cellular bacteria alive just for the heck of it. Candle marches and protests and burning ‘em alive is good but they did it, they thought about it and executed it. We can remove them from the face of this planet and tomorrow, a thousand others will pop up. Before teaching your kids trigonometry or the intricacies of PB Shelly's works or about a certain mineral found in a certain state, teach them to be fucking civil, too hard? Teach them about consent. About becoming a human being before a doctor or an engineer or a weatherman. You can go ahead and screw their dreams and their education but not before turning them into civil beings. Please. Respect. Don't rape. Seek consent. Fuck religion. Don't hurt-physically, mentally. That's it. That's all there is. That's our best shot as a society. Our only shot. May or may not work, too many variables, too many external factors, but worth a shot.
I’m sorry, I’ll end this hanging loose. There’s no closure. The nation didn’t get a closure. The parents will never get a closure and there’s no reason this post should get a closure. Yet another loose end, we’ll sadly learn to overlook.

All the beautiful things have stopped hurting..

I cannot write without getting overwhelmed with everything that surrounds me. I cannot write and it has stopped hurting me. Oh, the noise, so much noise. Is there one place I can run to?  I ran, I ran like a mad dog, trying to escape the madness, the chaos, people, their complaints, their self. I ran, it followed. "Faster, faster" I cursed and kicked myself, the faster I ran, the closer it got. What the fuck? my brain failed to comprehend. "It’s in your head, asshole", the heart gently slapped it on my face. What? how does one get away from that? Run from their own physical self? I’m exhausted. All the things, beautiful so beautiful that they hurt have stopped hurting me. The quiet of the night, the smell of the wet mud after the rains, being caressed by a lover,  stealing loved ones away from city madness for a picnic in the winter sun, the sea of stars in the dark of the night, reading in solitude, a glass of golden whiskey in the wee hours of the night with your favourite song playing on loop. It has stopped hurting me. The older I get, the more whites and blacks seem to merge into one another, the lines get more blurred, the more I cannot separate rights from wrongs. The world spouts platitudes and I have no heart and energy to pretend. To listen, to care, to acknowledge, even to respect. Let me be. Let me fizzle out into oblivion and I promise I’ll come back better equipped to deal with y’all and the world. I hope, I do.

P.S. Who knew you could be your biggest and the toughest enemy? 

It was good to know you.

I have always known but very recently dramatically realised that I don’t have to take shit from any of you, anymore. For years, I’ve put up with bullshit from people who matter and the ones who do not, thinking building on my tolerance was a consolation. Now I don’t care much at all about it. If it’s anyone who makes my life living hell, pushes me into an abyss, emotionally saps me, makes me feel bad about myself, it has to be me. NO one else. I will fuck up, screw up, waste my time, not you. I am done, Thank you. You think I’ve become fat? tall? short? ugly? thin? why don't you go write that in your journal? would that make you feel good? I genuinely hope it does. I’m too irresponsible? Lame? Lazy? Wasting my time? Aap jaa sakte hain, namaste. I will not waste my time, emotional intelligence and peace of mind over your bullshit, I'm getting old and it's beyond my physical and mental abilities to stand you anymore. Simply, because I don't have to. I have no energy to fake a smile and pretend to be courteous when you're saying something totally hilarious and crossing boundaries, no drama, no pretence, a very simple-please show yourself out. Life’s short and I’m so done with this. Please let’s just let everybody breathe. It’s not easy for everybody alike. Yes? I don’t want women’s day discounts on make-up, spas and everything you think I should be doing to look like you think I should look like. What a farce. Don’t gift me raspberry flavoured lip-balms on women’s day Please, for fuck’s sake. How can one not see the irony? Why aren’t we tired yet? I am. I am more than happy and respectful of your idea of a daughter, a daughter-in-law, a wife, but why should that be mine? Why should I fit into your idea of these roles? Can I peacefully be a fuck up wife who is clueless about marriage and work my way through, the natural way? Please do not tell me to behave a certain way. I don't know and don't want to know what a good wife or a daughter is/does, I just want to do what I do, the best I can, till I drop dead. It’s not very hard to mind your own fucking business if you try. I’ll help, promise. Till then, don't be seen and definitely do not wish me a Happy Women’s day. It was good to know you.

Dear Brain,

Ssup? Let's cut to the chase. Stop bullshitting me. YOU ARE FINE. Say it, SAY IT. I don't know about you, but I have had enough. At least make up your mind. Be Okay or be NOT. One moment I'm on cloud 9, the very next, I'm in deep frigging dark waters, encapsulated, drowning, and not even trying to swim my way to the surface. It's not even funny. You find it entertaining? Can't even shoot the fuck out of you, because, well, you are me. I can run from the world, but can I run from you? So, I'm just writing in to put it on record that it's not cool. Oh, so not cool. If you weren't me, I'd have killed you. Can't believe I'm saying this, but even the uterus is better than you. Yes, I said it. Oh, despite the fact it's so dramatic on losing one egg which'll be produced again in a few days for the rest of my life (Well, till menopause). There are tears, there's pain, there's blood, it's a fucking crime scene. Hell breaks loose. YET, you are worse.  Stop messing with me. Let me be a simple girl who gets her soul sucked to earn money to be able to eat at an overpriced fancy restaurant only to have a bite or two and leave the rest and feel guilty later seeing the homeless and the unfortunate on the road. Is it too much to ask for?  You be the judge. And I'm not a fan of drama. No, sir. You want attention? You can seek shelter elsewhere. Now be a good boy and let me enjoy my aimless, meaningless existence and in return, I promise to feed you with good reads and steer clear of Ekta Kapoor crap and the likes of it. Deal?

Vulnerability

It's been so long since I've written that it almost feels like the first. I've been kicking myself for not being able to add more noise in the world which, like other things, is not worth a penny, but one does what one does.

I'd be lying if I say, I've been okay. Meet me and I'll do everything to conceal whatever my demons are doing to me. But, I can't write lies. I was caught off guard, to say the least. Struggling since months to not drown, to come out of the fucking goddamned tunnel. I will, one day.

I'm trying to come back. I haven't known anything harder.

Wish me luck, maybe?

Down and Out..

I’m no Padukone, and the world doesn’t give two fucks about what I feel and how I am, yet I decided to talk about it for the heck of sheer documentation so you’d know why I died, if I do. No, I will not kill myself. But do people die of depression? It certainly feels so. Anyway, this monster wouldn’t leave me alone. Never. Worse than pados ki aunties. It sleeps with me and wakes up with me. It pulls me down every opportunity it gets. EVERY. Right now I feel like I’m falling in a bottomless abys at the speed of 1000 kmph (Please be sensitive and don’t point out the technical flaw and impossibility of this, I FUCKING KNOW). Everyday getting up from the bed and showing up is the hardest task. I cannot, just cannot participate in real life, I cannot laugh at your jokes and smile for courtesy, I cannot indulge in small talk. I fucking don’t care. Yet, every day, every day I drag myself out of the bed, put the make up on and prepare myself for the world outside for yet another tamasha. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. I could use a mountain and reach the top to shout my lungs out or slap Uday Chopra (fine, I’m sorry) or cry my heart out. I have tried one of these three things and no, it did not doesn’t help. One might ask, what the fuck is bothering me, while I might say that is a very good question and a very relevant at that, I have no answer to it. None. In all probabilities, it’s me. I make people bother me (Lol, what a fucked up thing to say, right? THAT’S my state of mind, Yep.) I feel like I’m in the middle of deep waters, with my eyes and ears shut, and all I can see is jet black of nothingness, you know what I mean, dear non-existent reader? I really hope you don’t. My parents probably think I’m plain sad and generally broken, and oft get irritated about this state, I don’t blame them. For the past one year I refused to acknowledge the fact that I fucking need help because after all you are the master of your brain, it’s all in your control and all that bullshit. 13 months down, turns out the joke is on me. It gets worse every passing day, and I cannot control it, No. I will have to grow some balls to see the damned shrink and hope to get back to normal recovered. It almost feels like a shenanigan; I mean why would I be depressed if I have every fucking thing in place? Parents by my side, a job to pay my bills, amazing food and right education, what else do I need? A zillion dollars? I concede. I need somebody to figure that out for me. It’s sad and incredibly frustrating to realize that it’s out of my hands now. Having said that, I have to have to seek help. I cannot waste another year of my life sulking. No. There are bigger, better things to do. This is one life. Till then, I will try my best to get back to the surface even if it takes everything I’ve got. I’ll try not to drown deeper.  

The light has gone out of our lives

Baba has left. My brain agrees it is probably for his good, he is relieved of all the pain and suffering and that he was ready to go and lead a beautiful content life but my heart refuses to acknowledge. I cannot believe this is permanent. Is this what every book, every scholar, every clichéd drama, dialogue, every person on earth talked about? How does one deal with death? This pain is like the cumulative pain of every loss I’ve ever known. The moment he was gone, stretches unbroken. I’m advised to deal with this like an adult and take care of my younger sister who isn’t doing very well herself. I can’t face her, I can’t. I just can’t. It’ll take me a while to get back to life. To stay afloat. I cannot be the elder sister just yet. There’s nothing I can say that can make her feel better or undo the loss. She took care of Baba selflessly, taking care of his every need, just being there for him when he felt lonely, sensing his tone when he couldn’t talk with an incredible patience and tolerance and she’s all of 20 years old! She’d cancel catching up with friends just to take care of baba. Apart from all the love, she has my highest respect and has taught me the greatest life lessons. I bow to her for doing whatever she did, there are no words. I’m forever indebted to her and incredibly proud of the person she’s become. On the opposite spectrum, I failed. I don’t remember the last time I talked to him, I don’t remember being there for him when he needed the most. And now he’s gone, his stories are gone. I hope he forgives me. I hope I can forgive myself. His absence will be the biggest void in our lives which can never be filled. Is this what life is all about? One calamity upon the next? Let me grieve my loss, I don’t need to be consoled. There’s nothing that prepares one for loss, nothing at all, you have to face the dragon head on. You have to drown, you have to fall. I hope we remember his stories anew every day. I hope we gather the strength to pick ourselves again and live a happy and fulfilled life just the way he wanted. I hope we have the wisdom and humility to realize whatever we are, whoever we have become, is all because of him, because he chose to make it happen. I hope we never let him die in our memories. For me, the next biggest task is to crawl out of this mammoth abyss and move on as they say. Zip up, pull up the sock and carry on. And finally, maybe I can sleep.

Rest in Peace, Baba.