Sometimes I get weird dreams…

… and sometimes I try to put them into words by writing stories. This is one such.

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Her eyes flew open. It was pitch dark. She gulped for air like she’d just come out of freezing cold water. Her heart hammering, she tried to get her bearings.

“Okay. Okay, calm down.  Breathe.  Can I see?”

It was so dark that she couldn’t be sure.

“Can I hear?”

She searched for a sound. She could hear none.

She tested her hands. Both of them were stretched sideways and away from her, bound. She tried to pull on the rope, but her hands were stretched so tightly that she couldn’t.

Slowly, she became aware of the fact that she was crouching. Her knees were bent right up to her chest, and she was balanced on her heels; neither her toes nor her bum was touching the floor.

“I can breathe, though. That’s something.” She inhaled and exhaled till her heartbeat calmed.

She set herself to thinking.

“How did I get here?”

She strained and strained her mind, but she couldn’t remember anything before she woke up. Her mind was a void. She kept on trying to go farther and farther back, desperately searching for some context, until she realised that she did not even remember who she was. All she knew was that she needed to escape.

She tried to think of a way out. But a plan cannot be made if there is nothing to base it on.

She did not know how much time had passed.

“Right. Step one. Try to understand how time passes here.”

She decided to count her breaths. One breath gone. Then one more. And then another.

“Step two.”

She came up blank.

She decided to keep counting. And counting. And counting. And counting.

Time passed. It became a mania for her. When she couldn’t do anything, this was all she could do. She started to forget about her sight, her hearing, her hands, her feet. All that remained of her were her breaths and the incessant counting.

Then, at one moment in time, she could hear voices. Suddenly, she was fully aware of herself. She was straining to hear with everything she had. The most she could discern was fuzz. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, futilely, frustratingly;  she could not fight nor take flight. She could not move, she could not see, and with horror she realized, she could not hear anything either.

“They’re gone. The sounds are gone.”

That was the point when she lost hope.

All she knew of existence was that point. She did not know whether there was existence before or after her being. She soon stopped believing that the sounds had been real. She was a blank. She could not imagine anything other than the darkness and the silence. She had no memory of anything else. And then, she had no memory.

She forgot herself. She let go.

Without ceremony, without trying, without even thinking about it, she let go. Her hands were not bound anymore, because she had no hands. She was not blind, because she had no eyes. There were no ears to hear and no knees to bend. When the light engulfed her, she did not sense it because she didn’t exist anymore. She was already the light.

…In a hospital somewhere, a heart monitor flatlined.

~


Musings on giving up, losing hope, and taking things easy

I’m pretty sure I’ve never done an original thing in my life. Which is why I’m sure a lot of my fellow students must be in the same position in which I find myself.

It all starts when you realise that for the first time in your life, you’re not the smartest person in class. That happened to me more than 5 years ago.

The next step is when you realise that what you’re supposed to study is going way above your head; that studying ‘hard’ is not going to be good enough. That happened to me 2 years ago.

The next step is when you start avoiding a particular subject, just because it’s too hard. Or too mundane. And then suddenly you’re 3 months behind on your classwork. This moment is when you lose hope.

This moment is when you realise that you’ve lost all perspective and all motivation. This moment is when your brain stops thinking of tomorrow. It stops thinking of anything that is unpleasant, actually. You remain in that state of limbo, distracting yourself with stuff that you think makes you happy, dragging yourself from today to tomorrow.

You know that the inevitable will happen. You’re hoping for a miracle, but you know that you don’t deserve one.

That happened to me 6 months ago. And it kept happening.

I’m disrespecting myself when I waste what I was given. I’m disrespecting the people who have faith in me when I give up. There are no miracles. There is no solution other than trying again. I know I will fail. But I have to keep failing. I have to keep at it.

At times like this, failing at an attempt is the goal. I’m done not attempting anything at all.


My thoughts on chivalry

An article I read recently got me thinking. It said India is not ready for feminism because women still like men who bring them flowers, open doors for them, walk on the street side, etc. Chivalry, it said, was against everything feminism stood for.

What do I think of when I hear the word ‘chivalry’?

Gaily bedight, a gallant knight, in sunshine and in sorrow…

Theatrical Middle Century scenes come to mind – a knight in shining armour, brave and good at heart, performing heroic deeds to win the princess’s hand

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Any knight worth his salt was called chivalrous when he was honourable, kind, generous, loyal and courteous, as well as gentle with those weaker than him, which included – at the time – women. A little later, it became a code of conduct for gentlemen. A few centuries later, chivalry has evolved into a ritual reserved for first dates and the boss’s wife – opening doors, pulling out chairs, you know the drill.

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It’s kind of sad though that we’ve forgotten the emotion behind these little gestures. Chivalry is a way of life; it’s not aimed towards impressing another person.

It’s also kind of sad that chivalry has become a sexist issue. In this day and age, knights may not always be males. Kindness, courtesy, honour and liberality are things every person should have, regardless of gender.

So, for example, if you see a person in greater need of a seat in the train than you, offer them yours. It’s also perfectly okay to open the door for that cute chick, but keep the door open for the old couple coming behind her. If you’re a girl sitting in a women-only seat in the bus, and you see a tired old – or young – man standing, there’s no harm in letting him sit. Being genuinely nice, being considerate, putting that little bit of extra thought in your actions; that is chivalry, my friends.


I Had No Clue India Was Still In The 16th Century

So apparently the philosophy currently running around in India is ‘One step forward, three steps back’. Just when I thought that homosexuals were finally getting the peace they so deserved in India, the Supreme Court has to go and revert an iconic 2009 judgment that decriminalized gay sex.

Now, we middle class Indians are pretty used to these vote bank judgments. What is killing me, though, is the very mild protest to the judgment. I’ve been literally boiling since I heard about it, but the people around me are indifferent at best. So many people have asked me, “Why does it matter to you? You’re not gay!” So I’ve decided to make a list of the reasons why it matters to me

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1.) Our constitution promises equality for all. SO GIVE ALL EQUALITY DAMMIT.

2.) You don’t have to be gay to uphold gay rights.

3.) No court should have the right to tell you who to love. Ever.

4.) The more people try to convince me how homosexuality is unnatural, the more passionate I get about the subject.

5.) Homosexuality has been around for centuries. It IS NOT a new fangled ‘Western’ thing, as some of our idiotic religious leaders want us to believe.

6.) This subject has shown me just how narrow minded the people around me are. And i revel in trying to fight narrow minded people. Even those close to me.

7.) This kind of judgment is like the culmination of everything that is going wrong in India. And I’m just so tired of suffering in silence, of not fighting back.

I’m actually thinking of starting some kind of movement. To show people that gays are not that different. To remind people that what happens in bed, if it’s consensual, is nobody else’s business. That India has many other more important issues, like the consensual age limit, or the ever increasing rape occurences, to worry about the alleged ‘sin’ of homosexuality.

The idiots.


A Long Time On.

Posting after more than a year. Happy to say, the year’s been good. When you last saw me, I was stuck in a terribly hot city studying for my pre-meds.

Well, I gave my pre-meds, got into an AMAZING medical college in Mumbai, and basically am having the time of my life right now.

Well, not right now at this moment.

My exams are going on and I am so dead.

High school couldn’t have prepared me for this. Pre-meds couldn’t have prepared me for this.Image


The Amused Onlooker:

Loved this!

Originally posted on The Life and Times of Nathan Badley...:

Dear Justin Bieber,

Congratulations on your big win at the American Music Awards tonight. Winning “Favorite Musical Artist” is the most valuable award a musician can win if we aren’t counting a Grammy. A Grammy is a much bigger deal.

I did not see it myself. I tend to not watch awards shows like this. They are often filled with musical performances like this:

This is something that seems more appropriate in a terrible nightmare than on a music show. Plus the music is usually very poor.

Since I was not watching the awards show, though, I missed something very important. In your speech you said, “This is for all the haters who thought I’d be around for 1, 2 years.”

From the bottom of my heart, I want to thank you for thanking me. It means a lot to know that all of my ridiculing has not been in…

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In honour of Breaking Dawn Part 2

Not that I didn’t like the books, and no offense meant.

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