Behind hating, beyond hatred.

Sometimes no matter how far I try to run away from all the hate and negativity in this world, everywhere I turn, I see a hater. Their eyes that judge every moving thing, mouth that can only speak hurtful words. Even if they are dropped into a big tank of melted milk chocolate, they will still come out tasting bitter!

I can’t help but wonder the reason behind their hostility towards all things living. What satisfaction they get by putting others down? Is that a way to make them feel better about their own life? Something very silly can infuriate them so much that they can’t even keep those rancid, decaying thoughts to themselves. No, they have to open up their mouth and spill it all in the name of being ‘real’.

But what is behind their faces? Behind those abhorring, scorned expressions? Who are these people and what are their stories? Sometimes I think they are hurt. That every baseless comment they pass is just a cry for help. Perhaps they are immature and naïve, that they do not understand the power of words.  They must be too busy to look back and witness the repercussions of their comments. . They never saw the heartbreak. So they never knew they hated. 

Can they be just plain evil? Sadists who like to watch people burn in all consuming fire of their anger.

Or maybe, just maybe they are wounded and the only remedy they know is tears of their victims.

 "Hating is like burning down your own house to get rid of a rat." - Harry Emerson Fosdick 

Enigma

He raised the veil hoping to unravel a mystery. But her eyes were closed.
It's the nature of few women and stars, we live in secrecy, we talk in codes and thrive in little thing that are invisible to you.
She could never be tamed, like her hair that fell free on her face.
And whenever she talked it sounded like poetry.
Some were enchanted by her, others never listened carefully.
Her aura extends to the world you have never seen.
Even with all the grandeur, she is easily missed on the streets.

Mind your Language

I am an Indian and my mother tongue is Hindi. Hindi is also our official language, English is the second official language. Constitution of India recognizes no national language, which is appropriate because there are way too many regional languages (Tamil, Bengali, Marathi, Punjabi etc.). If you are a foreigner and you think learning Hindi will help you have a proper conversation in South then you are sadly mistaken. Not like Southies don't understand Hindi, they just refuse to speak it.
In my house we speak Hindi (or Hindi-Urdu to be accurate) in Andamani dialect, it's not much different but it has its own flair. It certainly is not the purest form of Hindi but I don't know who speaks like that anyway.
My mother is a mainlander and my dad is an islander, they both have their own way of speaking Hindi. Mine I would say is a mix of both style and not to forget I went to a English medium school, so I speak Hinglish, like many other people of my generation.

The funny thing is, I am more comfortable speaking English sometimes, maybe it's because I live in England now. But surely I can't put it above my mother tongue? Or can I?
I passed school with A grade in Hindi and B in English. So I guess my Hindi is better.

But grades have no significance in real life.

Today I went to get my eyes checked. They had one of those things that you read from a distance to check your vision. It had four sides, one was English alphabets another was assortments of animals, third was different signs and fourth was Hindi alphabets. I always read the English one but the problem is that I have had a lot of eye check ups and I have pretty much memorised the English one. So this time I had to choose something else.

I sat down on a stool and looked straight. There they were, Hindi alphabets arranged randomly. I stared at it for sometime and I just couldn't get it. I knew what they were but they seemed alien to me somehow. Like it was not the language I speak everyday at home. I said I'm not comfortable with Hindi so I'll read the signs. After trying different numbers, we came to the conclusion that the glasses I am using now is fine.

So I sat there with my 6/6 vision thinking why I didn't want to read Hindi. Is it some kind of self-hate? But it wasn't, because I didn't feel that I don't like Hindi. I like it, it's just complicated.  I have to think a lot while reading it. I don't read Hindi subtitles on TV because they go away in seconds before I can figure out what was written, I only read it if it's romanized. I don't watch Hindi news because I feel I have to concentrate to figure out those big complicated Hindi words they use. But I have no problem watching Hindi sitcoms as they are a more lighter version of Hindi, there are no heavy duty words there.

I thought of other things too. Like how I can only count till 20 in Hindi. How shameful is that? I got a A grade for the same language. And this was not like billion years ago, it's only been four years. Were the teachers really happy the day the marked me? Were they drunk? Did they have really good sex or their favourite cricket team won the match or something? They seem to be very generous with their grades.
Or maybe it's just me. Maybe I gave English an upper hand because I write in English. And really the last time I wrote more than two words in Hindi was four years ago.

I wonder if my kids will have more trouble with Hindi. I live in a multi-cultural country now so I guess I can have babies with anyone. There are good chances that my kids can be bi-racial. They would probably never write a word of Hindi, unless I want them to. But do I actually give a fuck? That is the real question.

I am always prepared.

I didn't sleep until 6am in the morning. Around 8am I heard a sharp knock on my door followed by my sister asking me, "Do you want to go down to the beach today with us?". After considering the pros and cons for few mins (cons being I only had 2 hours of sleep) I agreed to go with her and her friends who are visiting Andaman.

After breakfast my sister gave me 30mins to get ready. So I rushed upstairs, had my morning fag and chose a coral top and harem pants to wear, slapped on my coral lipstick, lathered SPF 50 all over my face and body. Voilà! beach perfect in less that 10 mins. I spent rest of my time packing essentials for the beach. I thought of taking my swimming costume because but instead I packed a cropped legging, a white tank top and another white lacy top to go above it. I thought swimming costume would be too revealing and no one actually wears costumes in beaches here except 5 year old. My sister asked me if I have packed everything and I replied, "I am always prepared".

Nothing beats the feeling of being at the beach. Tiny grains of sand under my feet felt orgasmic. Warm weather, cool water and smell of the sea awakened all of my senses. I went in the changing room to change into my cropped black leggings and white tank top. After that me and my sister jumped into the water playing and laughing like little children. I don't even know why I was laughing, the salt water acted like a drug. I discovered that of all the places to be, we experience immense happiness and freedom only around nature and not inside the brick walls we build for safety.  


But all my philosophy went out of the door when my sister pointed out that my tank top is now transparent. Here I am, surrounded by people who are in the water clad from head to toe in their sarees and salwars, and my nipples are clearly visible through my white top. I felt more exposed than I was. I decided to hide my upper half, find a tree and wear my bra inside my top and then go into the water again.

After that I went in the water fearless and we played for about 2 hours and sun bathed. Everything was going well until my sister's friend whispered that my legging is ripped, that too near my bum. I went to the deeper side of water so I can be inspect the rip myself. To my horror it was a huge rip over my right bum and thigh. Why God Why? Why me? Are you just trying to pull me down while you sit in heaven above, eat popcorn and watch me get humiliated?

I wrapped a towel around me went to the changing room and changed into my coral top and harem pants.

One thing kept echoing in my ears and mocking me " I am always prepared".

A word of advice : don't take old leggings and white tank tops to beach. Or better yet, take a god damn swimming costume.

I have a secret

I have a secret that I will take with me to the grave. 

Through out our lives, there is so much that goes on in our head. There are so many things we do that we think should be buried deep within us, it could be anything, stealing, affairs, addictions, how different are they from each other anyway? But I truly believe in letting it all out before I pass on from this world. 

So, you see? When I say that I have a secret that I'll take with me to the grave, I am fighting against myself and what I stand for. Honesty, fearlessness, courage...I am willing to turn of all the light around to protect the darkness I hold in my heart.

I have been taught by my guides that one must never take that darkness with them to the beyond. To start a fresh journey old luggage must be dealt with. It has no use. In fact if you decide to take the same luggage, the same burden with you, you will travel the same road again and again until the weight is gone. 


Today I stand at crossroads. I feel like a student who left the school but all her knowledge is of no use as she has succumbed to the force of this physical reality. 
I don't know if I can enjoy the warmth of the sun when I have given my heart to the dark night. 


Secrets haunt you. You can't forget it or ignore it. It's a vicious circle, one day it'll stand in front of you, waiting for you to confront. How can the past be left behind if you choose to carry it with you.

It scares me to think that a part of me is out of control, reckless, inappropriate and dangerous.


Am I the predator or the victim? 

Sin, guilt, neurosis; they are one and the same, the fruit of the tree of knowledge.- Henry Miller

Faith

I have been walking back and forth for awhile now

Waiting for the wise one to appear

I hope someday I’ll see their faces

They’ll smile and tell me the secret

And the doors to another world will open

I’ll finally be out of my miseries

I’ll be loved by my own unconditionally

And forever be remembered for my bravery. 

My Broken Glasses

I wish I had rainbow on my lips, glittering skin and rosy-coloured glasses on my eyes, walking down the street.  But the bitter sweet confessions rolling out of my tongue attracts only silence. Is it the rumblings in my head or sounds cars in the distance? Or is it the wine of my thoughts that have dragged me out to witness insanity? Corners of the street I stand like a shadow of humanity; on the silver sheets of dreams I talk to mirrors, addressing to all of the fraternity. 

I am deeply concerned about nothing.

Social Networking sites are not only useful for finding your long lost friends or making new ones, in a "developing" country like India it is also a tool to bash the government.
Granted there are lot of flaws in our  system but how is moaning about it online will sort out anything?

I can only speak about Andaman. A lot of people have been posting their so called "concern" about things like internet connectivity. I understand the pain of having a slow internet, I really do. I know what it feels like when all your friends are liking and commenting on a picture and the picture won't load for you.

But in a place like Andaman where load shedding is as common as house lizards (very common), who care about internet connectivity? Forget electricity and internet, you know how long its been since I have tasted a fresh piece of fruit? People don't understand how hard it is to live in these islands.  I make it sound like it's really bad, but unlike many others in India, I got a big roof over my head and food to eat even if it's not super fresh. For that I am thankful.

I really don't like to talk about the condition here because spend more than half of the year outside India, I feel I have no right to have any opinions. I have very little information about the current affairs in these islands but I do know complaining never helps. Venting can only take a load off your chest (I do it often) but hoping it'll start a revolution is just stupid. Please remove this fake mask of concern and shut the f**k up. You are not concerned citizen of this country you are just a smartass who knows too much and does very little.

PS- I am complaining about people who complain. How very original of me.