tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-85807256754081743882024-03-13T13:37:26.918-04:00I Think I babble way too much!!Scribbling would be an understatement.Mayukhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12493855168175965782noreply@blogger.comBlogger214125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8580725675408174388.post-74062294545429563522020-08-17T08:00:00.003-04:002020-08-17T17:06:17.982-04:00Scared and Safe<p> It seems like I go through these sine waves of anxiety and determination. I ride out the waves differently of course. It seems like the anxiety phases last longer than the determined phases. If you thought that being scared equates to being safe, you are not wrong. Think about the times, you have felt determined and done something, tossing caution to the wind. You'd have been in a pickle most of those times. <br /></p><p>Being scared is safe.<br />Being scared is okay.<br />Being scared means you have weighed in all the options. <br />Being scared also probably means you are overthinking it.</p><p>When we say the word scared, we think danger. But it's how we perceive things that matters. Think about it as a line separating you and the danger. The part about "danger" is the opposite side of the line from you. Whereas you, on the other side of the line, are not in touch with danger. You are safe. You have options to seek shelter, to run away, to face the danger, that's up to you. But in the end, the other side of the line is safety.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Mayukhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12493855168175965782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8580725675408174388.post-45824394194029140962020-04-09T17:32:00.003-04:002020-04-09T17:33:11.516-04:00It's A Wrap<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
After leaving home for work in 2012, going to Pune, India and then the USA, all my holidays have been time bound. It's always been a rush to meet people, go places, eat food, travel etc. Always time bound, always in a hurry. Before I knew it, the holidays would be over and I would have to go back to work.<br />
Before all this, the way I passed time at home was writing poems, music, composing, recording, blogging and mostly on the internet doing all sorts of things, shut away in my room, shut away in my own world. It is April 2020 today and we are all in a lockdown due to the COVID-19 virus pandemic. I am stranded in India after my LASIK surgery. I have been asked to not work for DB till an exception has been created for working from India. So I have time in my hands to do anything and everything else.<br />
For a long time, I had been wanting to have a peaceful vacation at home without all the rush of meeting people and going out everyday. Getting stranded at home due to lockdown brought that with it. Days have been melting into each other and I have fallen into a kind of the same pattern as before. Doing chores at home, writing, playing music, recording etc.<br />
<br />
What is scary about it is that there does not seem to have been any change in me from 2012.<br />
It has been 8 years, I have worked in another state, another country and lived life to the full but here I am back to square one. Back to where everything started. Maybe it is a sign, the circle indicating a fresh start. But it is scary to see no difference between who I was 8 years ago and today. Almost a decade of no change. I've been so many places, done so many things yet I feel I never left this space as of today. It is eerily disconcerting. Being a nice, fun person is okay and everything but I went on and on with that and forgot to change. Most of my friends are married, have their own families and have changed professionally so much. I never quite progressed professionally. Somehow I always thought if I kept up my writing, singing music it would all come together one day and amount to something. It hasn't yet. Neither has my IT career wherein I still remain in a junior kind of position. I always concentrated on IT as a way to pay my bills so I could keep my hobby up. I also took up boxing, gym etc and went on a body building/toning regimen and got results there. But I'm back to no activity again. I am scared of myself today.<br />
<br />
In the course of these 8 years, sure I have traveled a lot, made so much music, made amazing friends, started Latin Dancing, published 2 poetry books, released an album, completed certifications, got myself enrolled in an MBA program aimed to finish next year, bought my very first car, my first electric guitar. All these things done, yet a horrible empty feeling inside. Almost nauseating.<br />
I have learnt a lot, seen so much and in my MBA still am learning yet I feel hollow and unfulfilled.<br />
<br />
At this point, I still do not know what my future looks like. All I wanted was to have a good time in life, making music, hanging out with friends but nothing can happen without money. Money is scarce. Money is everything. Without money, there would be no cars, guitars, music, holidays, dates nothing. And as I grow older, the necessity for a higher amount of money is becoming more essential. I had my good time in life. I don't think it is going to continue anymore. It's such a state of directionless-ness that it is inexplicable.<br />
<br />
Still, it is square one again. Maybe it's time to restart. Maybe it's time to wait and watch. Who knows?<br />
But I have done so many things, tried my hands at so many things to earn money, to get popular for my hobbies and nothing has ever materialized. Maybe it is time to understand that I need to grow up and the fun part has to end. Maybe it is time to give up one of the boats because with my feet in two boats, clearly none have perceptibly moved. It's time to wrap up the show I guess. In any case, I have been accused of wallowing in sadness and writing only sad things n singing sad songs. Who wants that in this world eh? </div>
Mayukhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12493855168175965782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8580725675408174388.post-16583869381878566122020-04-09T09:40:00.003-04:002020-04-09T17:33:33.653-04:00Moonlight Shadow<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Siddharth Gupta. Sid. Alone since he was fourteen years old. He had moved to Pune when he was 20 to study. Having completed a master's in English literature, he worked for a small advertising firm as a junior copywriter. </div>
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<br /></div>
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He was fond of writing in his spare time. Stories, poetry and memoirs filled up page after page in his diary. he had a few friends who he hung out with sometimes. But they never seemed to want to stay with him for long. He wasn't exactly an extrovert and had trouble getting along with most people. He had had a girlfriend once - a girl he was almost sure that he had been in love with in school but she had disappeared from his life like a speck of dust in the universe. He had probably been a speck of dust to her as well. He wrote about her in his journal for a few months. She said she had gotten bored of him and the relationship. She was a great girl. He wasn't a great guy. She wanted adventure. He wanted to play it safe. It blew up.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Sid lived alone in a house. The owners lived on the ground floor. He lived on the first. He had a nice big bedroom, a kitchen and a living room and had access to the terrace as well. That was the favorite part of the house. He would spend nights up there, looking up at the sky and writing in the dim light that seeped in from the bulb on the stairs. He went to work early in the morning and came back early evening, went to the terrace and wrote in his journal, came back and see that dinner had been served, ate dinner, listened to some music and then fell asleep. Most of his days were the same. The exceptions were the days he would meet a friend for dinner or a drink somewhere.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was the 16th of Dec, a cold night. Nevertheless, Sid would be going up to the terrace to write. He felt particularly inspired that night. He put on a jacket and wrapped a heavy shawl around his shoulders to keep arm. He put on some woolen socks to keep his feet warm. He hated distractions while he wrote. And the cold seeping in could be a distraction; he knew it very well. As he added the final touch to his outfit, a woolen cap, he looked at himself in the mirror and smiled. Maybe he would skip dinner tonight, he wasn't particularly hungry. But maybe all the writing would change that. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He jogged up the stairs and opened the terrace door. It creaked open. Almost immediately, there was a shout from the ground floor - "Sid, make sure you shut the door when you are done, it's cold outside!" </div>
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"Yeah, I will Uncle!" Sid shouted back.</div>
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"He has the ears of a cat" he thought to himself.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But he was a good tenant. Uncle did not have any complaints about him. Neither did Sid plan on getting any dirt on himself. It was difficult to find houses to rent for single males like him. Single Male -The toxic combination!</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He sat down against the railing around the terrace. The night was pretty lit up from the bulbous white full moon that hung low in the sky. A dog howled somewhere. He opened his diary and started writing.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i>"The world lit up in white</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>the body lit up in white</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>the moonlight shadow the color of the insides,</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>black.</i></div>
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<i>What a night,</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>glorious!</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Glory be thy name, night.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>(Somehow that sentence seems the most fitting in old English,</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>I can never write Glory be your name, night!</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>What is it about the sentence? Just habit or a degradation of it's worth?</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>I digress.)</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>The shadow.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Black as my insides.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>The night,</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Oh so glorious!</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>But why is there such a feeling of doom?</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Impending dominance of the unknown.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Like sickening gasps swallowed</i></div>
<i>In an upturned body."</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
He paused and read it. When he wrote poetry, he usually let flow whatever churned out of his head. Guess this was the flavor tonight. Doom!<br />
<br />
"<i>Don't worry about a thing,</i><br />
<i>It's in nature to move up and down,</i><br />
<i>to slither in and out</i><br />
<i>of view, of touch, of peace.</i><br />
<i>Like the moon, transitioning</i><br />
<i>over a month back to who She was;</i><br />
<i>but every time She comes back,</i><br />
<i>She is a little different,</i><br />
<i>a little more weathered,</i><br />
<i>a little more forgotten </i><br />
<i>by those with perception.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>So go, get changed, change, make change</i><br />
<i>be a little different everyday,</i><br />
<i>a step up, a step down, who cares?</i><br />
<i>Keep changing your body from white <br />to yellow to red to blue</i><br />
<i>through the whole spectrum;</i><br />
<i>your shadow remains black</i><i>."</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
As his thoughts trailed off, he looked sideways to look at his own shadow on the ground. He started when he noticed he wasn't casting a shadow. He stood up and looked around. What! How is that possible? There was a full moon in the sky! He looked up and saw the moon had been covered by a cloud. The wind picked up, a chilly death of a flurry! He looked up again. The clouds parted and the moon shone out again, white and fluorescent. Still a little startled from a few seconds before, Sid gathered his shawl around him hurriedly and looked down again. No shadow again. What was happening! He ran towards the stairs. It had been an hour he was up on the terrace. By this time, dinner was usually served. He thought of food as he ran. When he reached the top of the stairs and stood under the light, he looked around himself again. No shadow! What was happening?<br />
<br />
He ran down the stairs to his apartment and opened the door and turned on the lights. It was cold inside and smelled musty unlike other days when it usually smelled of dinner. He looked around again and noticed he wasn't casting any shadows again. No idea what to do, Sid made his way towards the kitchen to look for food. Weird! There was no food cooked today. He usually cooked and served dinner so that once he was back, he could eat. "Strange evening!" he thought. He ate some cookies and drank some milk and decided to go to bed. There was a slight throbbing on his temple.<br />
<br />
He decided he'd tackle everything the next morning. As he closed his eyes, drifting off, he heard Uncle shouting from the ground floor, "Sid! Have you left the terrace door open?" He muttered a silent 'Shit! I'm gonna get it tomorrow' and rolled over to the other side and dozed off.<br />
<br />
Uncle came up the stairs and knocked on his door once and went up to the terrace. Sure enough, the door was open, the chilly wind barging into the house. He closed it and went back down the stairs. As he came to Sid's door, he debated if he should wake the boy up and rain down holy hell on him. He decided it would be done the next morning. Sid seemed to be asleep, the light was turned off and he didn't hear a sound.<br />
<br />
He went back downstairs and called Sid's mother and told her what had transpired. It was unusual for him to do something like that. He usually had the same routine everyday. "Just check on him once tomorrow morning." Sid's mother told Uncle. "Sure!" said Uncle. "I hope he took his medicines. Well, anyway, I'll call you tomorrow morning! Goodnight." said Sid's mother. "Goodnight!"<br />
<br />
Next morning, Uncle went up and knocked on Sid's door. There was no response. He knocked again. No response. Taking out his key copy, he unlocked the door. He found Sid still in bed, two cans of yellow and blue paint beside the bed. He called "Sid!" and turned him over. Siddharth was naked under the sheets, his whole body painted yellow and blue, quite dead. His diary lay by his head, open on a page where he had written in large letters:<br />
<br />
<i>"There was no dinner. The shadow had disappeared."</i></div>
Mayukhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12493855168175965782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8580725675408174388.post-82382741563594664982019-10-06T12:53:00.002-04:002019-10-06T12:53:28.066-04:00The importance of getting suckerpunched<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The importance of getting suckerpunched is a many tentacled octopus. It is dangerous but it allows you to understand what feeling out of breath means so you can appreciate the air that you breathe in more.<br />
For years, my posts have been about how I feel like the victim all the time, always on the end of a super suckerpunch from life. Truth is, it's because I am scared. I am always on my toes about anything I do and that somehow tilts into me getting punched in the throat and my gutless gut. I tried the other way, not to be scared and just being there for everyone, being polite, doing things for people, just putting myself out there. Bam, Suckerpunch to the throat and my gutless gut.<br />
Then I tried something else - opening up about it. Boy, that doesn't seem to have helped. There was another followup suckerpunch to that.<br />
Hence, I'll fall. Take it as it is and go down and not get up.<br />
There's no ways to it anymore.<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Mayukhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12493855168175965782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8580725675408174388.post-59777205627264975202019-10-04T21:49:00.003-04:002019-10-04T21:49:26.498-04:00Narcissism<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It's been silent for sometime now. Emotions, feelings have been reprimanded, crushed and stepped on and buried more than six feet under. A plethora of elements from hard reality has taken over and shrouded dreams, imagination and freedom. As I move forward slowly and steadily through time, there's still the pangs of guilt and regret over what I did not do in time, there's yearning to still try and do it but reality has a rope around my neck and shackles around my feet and chains on my wrists. I try to give tangible form to anything abstract but I fail, over and over. I try to be myself, then someone else in repeated pirouettes and fail and fail miserably. I act calm; inside I am torn, screaming and desperate now. I rebel with what I can to defend my stance in the ugliness that keeps punching me in my guts, guts that have no intuition whatsoever anymore. I draw blanks, at parties, at meetings, on phone calls, in conversations, while laughing, while thinking, while sleeping. I lick the wounds only to be sprayed with salt again. Leverage my coldness and be ugly. Colors are as invisible as the distant parts of the universe we have no idea about. I cuss, I curse, I swear for I am the rat, scrounging amongst scraps. I breathe hard through my mouth to consume space and scratch myself to bleed for no reason. Potential turned upside down, like garbage strewn in the aftermath of convenes of ravenous, insidious, non-anodyne nobodies. I rage and hold grudges, jealously tugging at the others' stimuli to success. I intend, to transcend, but descend in seconds, to wild ruin. It's not like me to boil I tell myself but I am a volcano beneath. At several forks, I perceive the futility but the desire to slash has taken root. I erupt, I punch, I kick and bite, I ram and shove through my gutless mouth. Empty as graves, artificial as plastic, words spew and gush without thought. I elongate and falsify, I swell and testify, for injustices to my soul are injustices to my existence. <div>
<br /></div>
<div>
There's no one I'd rather be than myself, but I don't know what that means yet. </div>
</div>
Mayukhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12493855168175965782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8580725675408174388.post-89712333977315871322019-07-11T00:01:00.002-04:002019-07-11T00:09:08.362-04:00Mistakes<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Halfway through 2019 and life has changed so much in the smaller pictures. In the bigger picture, it is still the same; I found some writing from 7-8 years ago where I have complained about being lost in life and being unhappy at my job. Fast forward all these years, I have moved cities, countries, continents and nothing seems to have changed in that scenario. All I seem to have done is made myself happy in the present. The future, as it were, remains untouched and un-thought of.<br />
<br />
So what went wrong?<br />
<br />
Did I get so carried away about living the moment and being in the present that I totally forgot what to make of the future? I didn't think I was that dumb. But now there is evidence. I lived the moment with people who are not even in my lives right now, who are settled and well off and happy. Pennies for dollars- that's what I traded. Sure enough, I got to travel shitloads, I moved to USA, I got to watch all my favorite artists live on stage, I released an album and two books of poetry and was asked to celebrate all the small victories but at the end, I realized I am still where I was 7-8 years ago when I wrote that piece. I talked about myself being someone who was good at nothing and dipping my fingers into everything but never really polishing or honing any talent whatsoever. I admit it still holds true. Of course, I have some experience of the adult world now but I am still trying to fit in somewhere and still have no idea, where that somewhere is.<br />
<br />
I don't know if things have changed for the better or worse - I do live better but I live alone, I do get to earn more money which helps me get a lot of experiences in life but I don't have family or friends to spend it with, I do get 24 hours to myself to do whatever I want but I get those by myself without anyone to share it with, I do still have to work at a job I don't have a knack for in an industry I am burnt out in but I can't immediately make a switch because I have no experience or anything to fall back upon mostly because I wasted my years living in the moments and ignoring what my future would look like.<br />
<br />
This is a big revelation, whoa - some post form 2011 echoing with the same emotions in 2019, I don't think I know quite what to make of it. </div>
Mayukhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12493855168175965782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8580725675408174388.post-37227364918874776632019-01-03T23:25:00.002-05:002020-04-09T09:56:53.300-04:00In a room full of people, I love you.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="color: #222222; font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0.75em 0px 0px; position: relative; text-align: left;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><o:p style="font-weight: normal;"> </o:p><span style="font-weight: normal;">"You know how you're supposed to feel all tingly and romantic when
he says "I love you" to you the first time?</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">I cannot wait to spend the rest of my life with you. "<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">Well, I didn't. I panicked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">We were in a room full of people, people who were my close friends - it
was a small party- but no one knew we had been dating for a while. The
secretiveness of it made everything more exciting somehow.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">We were talking about a new dress I had been designing. Suddenly, out
of the blue, right in the middle of the conversation, he said with the greatest
ease, "Hey, I love you".<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">I just kind of got caught by surprise and then I got anxious. Panic
crashed onto the shore in waves and spread through my body in an instant. I
looked around frantically to check if anyone had overheard. I really hadn't
been expecting this!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">No one was near enough to have overheard. "Whew!" went my
brain.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">I turned back to him and smiled. "What a smart idiot this one was!
Springing it on me out of nowhere! Making sure no one was around", I
thought. He had chosen the moment
wisely. It also seemed that he had expected the panic and was waiting for my
reaction patiently. He grinned cheekily at me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">"I love you too", I whispered.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">"You're so beautiful." he whispered back, staring straight
into my eyes and tucked a strand of hair behind my ears. And with that, the
goosebumps rushed in.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">From those days of hushed and secretive "I love you"s in
rooms full of people to today when here we are here, standing at the altar, in
front of everyone, not one bit of the excitement has diminished.</span></div>
</div>
</h3>
</div>
Mayukhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12493855168175965782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8580725675408174388.post-23833318031854822632019-01-03T23:24:00.001-05:002019-01-03T23:45:56.813-05:00Summer Romance<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It<b> </b>was almost nine P.M. All the windows of both the trains had been foggy for a while. The condensed water drops were racing between themselves and were still not tired. Dinner would be served to the passengers in a few minutes. Everyone's whiling away their time till then. It was the summer season and the teenage girls on their trip have not stopped talking since they got aboard the train bound for the beach. On the other hand, there was a group of rather subdued children on the other train who had just wrapped up their holiday at the beach and were heading home.<br />
<br />
Whitney was bound for the beach to spend some time away from work. She had been swamped the last few days and was thinking of quitting soon. "Maybe I could just take a break and do a short trip" she thought, "maybe I could even meet someone!" So she had taken leave and headed out armed with a few books,sunscreen and her swimwear.<br />
<br />
On the other hand, Tom had already spent time away from work for a few days and was returning home. He hadn't met anyone interesting on his trip. He had had a break up a few months back and was at the point where he had gotten over the relationship and wanted to finally date someone else. But as fate would have it, there was no one who wanted to go out with him.<br />
<br />
The night had darkened considerably and a thick fog shrouded the hills and forests outside. Visibility had dropped to near zero and both trains were already running behind schedule.<br />
<br />
Tom and Whitney, alien to each other, were on their smartphones. Both of them were on the same online dating app, swiping left and right furiously. There seemed to be no perfect match for them out there in the world. But all at once, Whitney landed on Tom's profile the same time Tom landed on Whitney's and both of them stopped. Scrolling through each other's profile details, they were both wondering the same thing, how they had been looking to meet someone and a dating app had been the solution all along!<br />
<br />
They reached the end of each other's profiles at the same moment and within an instant both of them felt like they were lifted off the ground and spun swiftly into the air; the next thing they knew they were standing on a wide grey square in an empty city looking at each other across a fountain. After a few seconds of silence filled with surprise and shock, Whitney was the first one to finally speak,<br />
"What just happened!!"<br />
Tom stared for a few more seconds before he was able to speak.<br />
"I don't know! What just happened?"<br />
"I don't know either. That's what I just asked you.... wait, you're Tom, aren't you?"<br />
"Erm, yes, how do you know who I am?"<br />
<br />
Whitney paused, unsure of what to say. She looked around at her surroundings. Where were they? There were tall buildings all around them, each of them painted grey and without windows; the entire city seemed to be devoid of life. "Like Chicago without colors", she thought to herself, "and the wind!" as an afterthought.<br />
<br />
"Hi, you are Whitney, aren't you?"<br />
His voice snapped her back to the present - how did he know who I was?<br />
"Yes, I am but how did you know that?"<br />
"That's what I just asked you, how do you know my name is Tom?"<br />
"Well, I don't know how to explain this, I was on a train and.."<br />
"Wait wait wait wait, you were on a train?"<br />
"Yes, why?"<br />
"I was on a train too, travelling back from Sandbar Beach."<br />
"I was on my way to Sandbar Beach!"<br />
"That's weird, but how did you know who I am? We have never met and I am pretty sure we weren't on the same train in which case there might have been a chance of having seen you somewhere, but that's not it."<br />
Whitney shrugged and said, "Well, I was in the train and on an online dating app scrolling through profiles...."<br />
"..and you got to my profile and the next thing you know is you are standing here?"<br />
"Yeah, wait, how.. ? Did the same thing happen to you too?"<br />
"Yeah, I just got to your profile and found it mighty interesting and the moment I finished reading through it I felt like I was spinning in the air and here I was at the fountain!"<br />
"The same thing happened to me, I got to your profile and found you pretty interesting so I started reading through your profile. The instant I got to the end, I felt the spinning sensation you mentioned and here I was!"<br />
<br />
Both of them paused and looked at each other, breaking into a smile after a few seconds.<br />
"She has such light brown eyes", thought Tom to himself as he smiled at her. There was definitely something about her.<br />
<br />
"Well, I don't really know what to say right now, this is all a little too strange" , said Tom.<br />
"Yeah, that's true, but I think let's just start with 'Nice to meet you' and take it from there" Whitney said and extended her hand towards him. Tom was pretty handsome in real life too.<br />
"Yeah,nice to meet you too!" said Tom, and shook her extended hand.<br />
<br />
"Well, now what?" said Tom, looking around, "what do you reckon this place is?"<br />
"I have no idea, it's just buildings everywhere, I can't see a person anywhere nor shops or cars, is this even a real city?"<br />
"I am as clueless as you are; even the fountain has no water in it. And weirdly, if you notice the five roads leading away from this square, they are all a little too black, isn't it? "<br />
"Yes you are right, everything about this place is strange, kind of gives me the creeps"<br />
"Well, you wouldn't be the only one to have goosebumps, even I am a little creeped out." said Tom, rubbing his hands together,"It's also a little chilly,isn't it? I wish I had a coat or something."<br />
"Yeah I know, but it's summer, I didn't even have any warm clothes with me" , said Whitney, patting her own cheeks,"Wasn't really expecting whatever this is to happen!"<br />
<br />
Then, still patting her cheeks, she said, "So what do you wanna do? Should we start walking up along one of these roads and see where that goes?"<br />
"Yeah let's do that, it might just go somewhere where there are people; plus it'd give me a chance to get to know you a little better than your online profile."<br />
Whitney smiled. He was charming in a way, this Mr. Tom Smith.<br />
"Sure", she said.<br />
<br />
<br />
As they reached the start of the nearest road they noticed that there was a signboard where normally the street name sign usually is in a big city. In bold capital letters it read, "DO NOT LOOK/TURN BACK TILL THE FIRST RIGHT TURN"<br />
"This just keeps getting weirder. Maybe we should walk down one of the other roads, what do you think? said Tom.<br />
Whitney was still looking at the sign and nodded, "Yeah let's".<br />
<br />
They walked over to the next street. The same sign hung stolid over the pavement on this road too. Deciding to try the next one, they went around in a circle discovering that all the roads had the same sign hanging where they started.<br />
"Well, I am really at a loss for what to do, maybe we should just stay at the fountain and wait?" said Tom.<br />
"Wait for what? There's no one here!"<br />
"Well then, what do you suggest we do?"<br />
"I say let's just start walking down one of these roads, we'll keep each other company and talk to each other, that way we might not feel the need to turn back and wonder about the sign till that first right turn."<br />
Tom shrugged and said,"Okay, there's really not much of a choice here huh? Let's do this. Take my hand."<br />
<br />
She clasped her partially cold fingers around his, looked at him and they stepped on to the black road. And with that first step, they realized that the black road surface was not like roads they were familiar with- it seemed squishy in some places and brittle in others. Whitney's heels sank right into the road at one point but then the road itself crumbled at that spot.<br />
"Whoa! what is this?" she cried and started fumbling. Holding hands, both of them started treading carefully as if they were walking in a bog.<br />
"Whatever it is, don't look back, the road surface is just weird like everything else in this place we arrived, let's just go on" said Tom.<br />
"Alright alright, don't let go of my hand though"<br />
"No, I'm not letting <i>that </i>go!" said Tom and grinned.<br />
<br />
As they walked down the road towards that first right turn, unknown to them, the road behind them began to move. Though they did not realise it, the entire road was made of charred human bodies- bodies that were not fully alive nor dead; the whole width of the road was covered with them. Each of these bodies started sitting up to watch Tom and Whitney walk further away.The entire stretch of the road was stirring, each body laid on the stretch sitting upright and then standing up slowly. The first of the lot started shuffling forward, pushing the others in front of them until an entire part of the road had emptied and all the charred bodies were moving in unison like zombies towards human flesh.<br />
<br />
Tom and Whitney walked on for what seemed like an eternity before Tom spotted the turn.<br />
"Hey look!" he shouted,"There's the right turn, c'mon quickly, let's see what happens over there!"<br />
<br />
Both of them started walking as quickly as they could over the squelchy and brittle road surface.<br />
The moment they reached the turn, they noticed that the road changed into the normal grey they were used to. The buildings had color and windows and they could even see shops, cars and people in the distance. What was happening?<br />
Their hands were still clasped around each other's; Tom said, "Hey, we made it. Wherever this is, we made it."<br />
"Yeah" Whitney said and smiled. "Let's see where this goes now, yeah?"<br />
Tom grinned back.<br />
<br />
As they turned in the new direction, out of the corner of her eye, Whitney spotted movement to her right. She looked to her right.<br />
"Holy shit, what is that?!" she shouted.<br />
Tom turned to where she was looking and let out a stifled gasp. "What the .....!"<br />
<br />
But before he could finish his sentence, both of them felt an almost familiar tug and within a fraction of a second, they were pulled apart and spun into the air into darkness.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
********</div>
<br />
Aziz walked down to the deli like he did every day for his morning coffee and a fresh bagel. As he waited for his order, he took out his cellphone to get up to speed on the day's news. The first headlines and the news article caught him off guard-this was major news! It read:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>TRAIN COLLISION NEAR SANDBAR BEACH</b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>In one of the biggest railroad mishaps of this century, a railway track switch failed to work on the Western Expressway Line; two trains bound for and away from Sandbar Beach on the same railway track collided in a fatal crash after the switch failed to divert the two trains to two separate lines. One of the engines in one train's locomotive exploded propelling fire through most of both the trains. The fire is now under control and emergency crews are at work. Regrettably, all lives were lost to the massive fire and the collision except for two people who are now being treated at the nearest hospital after being flown away on medevac choppers. They have been identified as Tom Smith and Whitney Perrine. We extend our condolences to the families who lost their near and dear ones. </b></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b>More details to follow on the incident. Keep watching this space.</b></div>
</div>
Mayukhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12493855168175965782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8580725675408174388.post-29997684117120132362019-01-03T23:23:00.002-05:002019-01-03T23:46:10.209-05:00LSD<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">I started climbing the stairs. They wound and wound, spiraling through mountains and the atmosphere. I had this burden on my shoulders when I started the climb. The cooler air high above seemed to dissolve it. The stairs wound and wound, passing through caves where strange men and women sat drenched in black lights, their white garments,glowing an eerie purple,flapping gently in the caves' breeze. Far off across the forests I could see the sky, striped horizontally in alternate navy and white.Across each of the white stripes, on top of the navy, sauntered purple elephants in queues, entering from the right edge and leaving from the left edge, edges that really were boundaries of my vision- like entering and leaving across a movie scene- with synchronized steps to beats that made the rhythm in the background syncopated. That's when I noticed the rhythm, a steady hum and beat rising and quivering in the air from somewhere. I stopped my climb and looked up. The stairs would and wound, spiraling through more and more caves until they disappeared into the ragged white clouds. On either side of me, a man and a woman rose from their seat in their caves and opened their yellow eyes. Everything froze. The beat and the rhythm got silenced, the purple elephants stopped walking and my hand, resting on the railing, froze in ice binding me to the stairs. I looked down and up. From every cave on either sides of me, up and below, a man and a woman had risen on either side and stepped to the edge to peer at me with their yellow eyes. And all of a sudden, in unison, they opened their black mouths and started to chant a single syllable, Om, their voices reverberating off their own caves, rising higher and higher, the black lighting shrouding their skin, so that all I could see were purple garments, yellow eyes and gaping holes on their faces from where the Om emanated. As their voices reached a voluminous peak, I shut my eyes only to open them a second later as orange light pierced through my shut eyelids. The sun had suddenly burst through the navy and the white, as if it had been captive behind them, and the elephants, frozen in their tracks, started to burn -purple melted into navy and the navy melted into white which fell from the sky as gigantic hail. As the last elephant melted and the sun won it's war, the Om reached a raging deafening climax, the caves shuddered and the stairs shook and all at once the entire world went quiet and the black lights dissipated the men and women's black skins and yellow eyes. All that was left were white rags floating in the caves' breeze and an equally deafening silence. I drew a long breath and let it out as I looked up. The stairs wound and wound into infinite consciousness.</span></span></div>
Mayukhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12493855168175965782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8580725675408174388.post-52978585025657015252019-01-03T23:22:00.005-05:002019-01-03T23:46:18.899-05:00God helps those who helps themselves<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: #222222;">I spilled some milk today. Bending down to wipe it up, I found a tiny ant upside down struggling to get up on it's feet just where the refrigerator and the wall met. It was one of the red ones that stung,</span><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="color: #222222;">unlike it's ticklish black cousin. How did it get there? I didn't see any other ones around; they were usually in a bunch. I held out my finger to it's legs clawing wildly at the air. It's legs found something finally and it grabbed on. I turned my hand and it scurried across my palm towards my wrist. I put my hand on the floor to guide it towards the ground. And just before moving across the pinky to the floor, it stopped where the finger started, right between the knuckles and stung me graciously.</span><br style="color: #222222;" /><span style="color: #222222;">There was no looking back, it was dead within a second from the slap that ensued.</span></span></div>
Mayukhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12493855168175965782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8580725675408174388.post-26928874850616502982019-01-03T23:20:00.001-05:002019-01-03T23:46:35.467-05:00Love, with a hint of salt<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
She was in the middle of eating dinner - nothing fancy, just something she had put together in a hurry.<br />
He sat quietly by her side, looked at the traces of the bruise by her eye and took her hand in his own. She paused with the spoon halfway to her mouth and turned to look at him. He didn't let go of her fingers and stared into her brown eyes. She set down the spoon and turned around to face him, not letting go of his fingers.<br />
With his other hand, he tucked the free strands of her hair behind her ear and caressed her cheek. She didn't flinch but stared right back at him.<br />
<br />
"Do you think this is a good idea?" she asked.<br />
<br />
Without a word, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. To his surprise, she grasped his curls and kissed him back.<br />
<br />
The days passed in kisses and entangled sheets. She clutched him and he clutched back at her, no room for languid lovemaking. There was always a sense of urgency about the way they wanted each other; the feeling didn't even recede faintly. If they could have spent the day just with each other they would have but jobs called, life called, growing up called, responsibilities called. But as soon as they were done with their space and time, their worlds didn't just reunite, they crashed into each other, fuming and heavy each and every day. Love had more than a tinge of madness when it came to them.<br />
Everyone knew they would be with each other no matter what.<br />
<br />
They fought of course, but each longed to hold the other again even as they quarreled and so ever so sneakily, one would just touch the other in the middle of an argument and the fight would pause for a few seconds. In those brief seconds when time stood still, they would just stare at each other silently and the next thing you know, they were making love right where they stood - she clutching at him, he clutching at her with an urgency no one could fathom.<br />
<br />
One day after five years in the world outside and what seemed like a five hours since they had met each other ( it didn't even seem like yesterday that she had met him! ), the fight got out of hand. Each had their unspoken limits and that day, the boundary was crossed. Engrossed in trying to be right and win the argument, she screamed and scratched at his face out of frustration. It was like his brain fizzled out in a flash, disabling rationale - he hit her back. The weight of five years suddenly came crushing down upon them in five seconds as they both plunged into black bottomless water and they stood still looking at each other in disbelief. He saw her hold back her tears as she turned around and picked up her things and blasted her way out of the house. He stood there in shock for sometime and then sat down. It was over, he knew she would never even reply to a text from him after this. She spiraled into her own space and her own time, he zoned out into his.<br />
<br />
After a few days, still wallowing in the ostensible futility of the efforts he was about to put in, he made his way over to her house, not even expecting the door to be opened. He rang the doorbell and stood there for a long time as she wrestled over her decision to open the door for him. After what seemed like an eternity, she opened the door, turned around and made her way back to the kitchen. He closed the door behind him, put down the pink gerberas he had gotten for her on the coffee table and walked into the kitchen.<br />
<br />
She was in the middle of eating dinner - nothing fancy, just something she had put together in a hurry.<br />
He sat quietly by her side, looked at the traces of the bruise by her eye and took her hand in his own. She paused with the spoon halfway to her mouth and turned to look at him. He didn't let go of her fingers and stared into her brown eyes. She set down the spoon and turned around to face him, not letting go of his fingers.<br />
With his other hand, he tucked the free strands of her hair behind her ear and caressed her cheek. She didn't flinch but stared right back at him.<br />
<br />
"Do you think this is a good idea?" she asked.<br />
<br />
Without a word, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. To his surprise, she grasped his curls and kissed him back.</div>
Mayukhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12493855168175965782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8580725675408174388.post-63185467849090429672019-01-03T00:47:00.001-05:002019-01-03T23:46:43.411-05:00WrongChoice Man<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This is a story from a parallel world. It is set in India, which in the alternate reality is still a booming economy ( oh wow). However, things are a little different there. The country in recent years, has had a huge spurt in private colleges that churn out millions of photographers, filmmakers, painters, writers, poets, musicians who somehow get a degree and end up working at call centers to start off their careers. From all these millions, among similar other dreamers, our main character is a boy named Gadadhar aka Babloo.<br />
<br />
Babloo grew up in a house with a lot of sisters and unmarried aunties; his dad was hardly ever around and there usually was a general lack of males around him. As a result, he was always being asked to fix something around the house and he learnt a variety of useful work like repairing fuses, fixing pipes, tinkering with the water pump to make it quieter etc. and since then, he had always wanted to grow up and be in a career that made good use of these skills of his. In school, once he got the hang of computers, he grasped it quickly and grew adept at programming and hardware technology. He decided he wanted to be an IT engineer.<br />
<br />
As he crossed into high school to take up science in the last two years, his parents hinted that he should study literature. Babloo was annoyed AF but he understood the situation at home , what with his dad's early retirement and mom a housewife, and realized that studying literature would pave the way for a college which could get him a job early in life. He could keep up his coding and computers as a hobby.<br />
<br />
Fast forward 15 years later, Babloo is working as a literary genre analyst at a big movie production company abroad. Babloo is now known to his peers, colleagues and friends as Babs and he is still the hotshot guy who knows how everything works and is asked by friends to solve even the small everyday issues. The trade-off between money and happiness was huge and after 7 years in a corporate job, Babs was starting to feel the mental strain of it.<br />
<br />
Some time after the famous wildlife photographer Stephen Hawking passed away while running a marathon for people in their 70s from a heart attack, Babs thought about how Stephen had once said in an interview that even though he enjoyed being a wildlife photographer, he could also have lived the life of a scientist; that had always been his second career choice. Babs mulled over this for many days and finally could not take it anymore and called up his parents one day.<br />
<br />
Babs: "Hey listen, I'm quitting my job."<br />
Babs's Parents: "What? why? Are you getting fired Babloo?"<br />
Babs: "No"<br />
Babs Parents: "Then? What's wrong? You have such a great job, a good salary, house and everything else."<br />
Babs: "I am quitting to work on and change my career"<br />
Babs Parents: "What new career? It is too late, this is not the time to make new changes in life and career, you should be settling down and getting married and living life happily with your wife abroad."<br />
Babs: " Mom, Dad, I know how much you wanted me to study English and get this huge corporate job but I think I have paid my dues, I am unhappy in my job and need a career change.<br />
Babs's Parents: "What is this new career then? Please don't say it's something to do with your computer things ! "<br />
Babs: "Actually yes it is, I don't like my job here and that's all I have ever wanted to be and still want to be - an IT engineer."<br />
<br />
*Silence*<br />
<br />
********************************************************************************<br />
<br />
Like Babs, there are millions of other young boys and girls that India is churning out to be in the art industry and it seems like that area is now saturated. I hope many more such Gadadhars don't hold back and leave their jobs as musicians, poets, writers, photographers, filmmakers to realize their dreams of being an IT engineer. Babs now works 3 IT jobs and is happily married with 2 kids back in India. He was hailed as a superhero for his move by his friends and they even gave him a <br />
superhero-nickname - RightChoice Man.<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Mayukhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12493855168175965782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8580725675408174388.post-6024141396801439162019-01-02T22:46:00.001-05:002019-01-03T23:46:51.145-05:00I love you like a TV Show baby<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The first time you fall in love ( as in the hundreds of first times ) is like signing up for a Netflix account. When you signed up for that shit, it was a plethora of emotions - you laughed with Dave Chapelle , cried with Dev Patel in Lion ( what a gem of a movie! ), goofed around with Adam Sandler, took it to the next level with 50 Shades of Grey, had some weird days with Black Mirror, had a Fuller House moment when you introduced them to your family, got angry again and again and again ( the franchise never seems to end )with Arnold Schwarzennegger in Terminator, got frustrated and left high and dry with Birdbox.<br />
<br />
Then after that first 50-100 movies and shows, Netflix seemed to be as bad as coffee mixed with plentiful chicory, you kept drinking it and never got buzzed. It was just always there. The world changed, time shifted, and you tried STARZ , Amazon Prime and Hulu but after a while, you did come back to Netflix at times, reminiscing the good old days and just to check if there was anything exciting about it anymore.<br />
<br />
The only difference?<br />
Falling in love came free. Falling out of it cost so much more than signing up for 13 bucks and closing the Netflix account for free.</div>
Mayukhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12493855168175965782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8580725675408174388.post-57835974655725363582019-01-02T22:04:00.001-05:002019-01-03T23:46:58.958-05:00Giving Up<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
The first time I gave up was back in school. I just couldn't understand that computer language and how I was supposed to write lines of code to carry out simple tasks. "Write a program to check if a word is a palindrome or not - 15 marks" -15 frickin marks - to know if MALAYALAM is MALAYALAM left to right and right to left! How about 15 marks for remembering Charles frickin Babbage? No, the cruelty and unfairness of life started to blossom early.<br />
<br />
I was fifteen. Burdened with the heavy school bag, the peer pressure, board exams and of course, puberty, I tried not to get distracted. But who are those boys running in the field below while I scratch skin off my scalp trying to make a program that generated the Fibonacci series ( someone tell me what to do with that number sequence in real life, please! ) ? Darn it, they must have a free period. I wished Mr. T was absent. I looked back at the paper and suddenly, overburdened with seeming old age and the free will of adolescence, I gave up. This was not meant to be. Don't stress it, you'll mess it. Till the minute before, I didn't even want to. But that present minute seemed like the perfect moment since the Big Bang happened to give up trying to comprehend how to check if the given number was an Armstrong Number or not. (Yeah right!)<br />
<br />
I sniggered to myself and looked around - in real life, KK's Armstrong Number was probably 100; he'd always had the largest collection of pornographic CDs. Sharma's Armstrong Number came close to KK at a possible 90. Poor Ghosh, he was probably at a meagre 5, tch tch.<br />
<br />
So yeah, I gave up, somehow got through my exams and voila! Fast forward 15 years later, guess who works in IT now?</div>
Mayukhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12493855168175965782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8580725675408174388.post-40716347388156355142018-11-04T11:56:00.002-05:002020-05-12T06:15:43.517-04:00Fork<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Why do I care if I find out you didn't get enough sleep last night?<br />
Do I need to feel needed<br />
and hence, keep inserting myself into your life?<br />
Or do I actually want you so much that<br />
I don't want anything going wrong in your life?<br />
You are probably just looking for a hand<br />
I came looking for a heart.<br />
We don't have what it takes to make it till the end.<br />
You will never be complete,<br />
you are too far behind.<br />
I will never be complete,<br />
I am too far ahead.<br />
There is never any white without the black;<br />
they need to coexist if you really want me.</div>
Mayukhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12493855168175965782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8580725675408174388.post-52711138040835147042018-11-02T16:32:00.001-04:002020-05-12T06:17:55.058-04:00Itch<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I don't hold myself back anymore<br />
You did tell me to jump into the fray<br />
"It's all about change" you said;<br />
"being who you are, not being who others wanted you to be".<br />
<br />
Now I am who I was "supposed" to be.<br />
Why don't you like me anymore?<br />
I can't retrace my steps; I have come too far.<br />
I did turn around to look at the road I left behind<br />
but I don't really want to go back that way.<br />
<br />
I like who I am now.<br />
It's a pity you couldn't accommodate<br />
the change you wanted in the first place.<br />
Like an itch that goes away<br />
if you ignore it,<br />
ignore me now till you get used to my<br />
new self dissolving into normalcy.<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Mayukhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12493855168175965782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8580725675408174388.post-81819582683439748852018-10-21T22:24:00.003-04:002018-10-21T22:24:38.031-04:001 Year Anniversary of Dieting+Workout<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QPajXCoOKsY/W800tFk_AUI/AAAAAAAArLg/v0LU4jEbx_URSaq2QJnmRw6ajAaNk2uXQCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_20181018_231534.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1564" data-original-width="1564" height="640" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QPajXCoOKsY/W800tFk_AUI/AAAAAAAArLg/v0LU4jEbx_URSaq2QJnmRw6ajAaNk2uXQCLcBGAs/s640/IMG_20181018_231534.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />Mayukhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12493855168175965782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8580725675408174388.post-7193744365584864932018-07-12T13:53:00.000-04:002018-07-12T13:56:11.201-04:00Soul Sex<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Sitting in a cafe, <br />near the hotel we made love for the first time,</span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">of first of such mornings, </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">of the warm sun rays , </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">of the hundred many ways.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Drunk in love and lust,</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">as if it was just last night.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Written by fellow blogger as a guest writer for this blog: Abhay H. Soningra. <a href="https://twitter.com/AbhaySoningra">@AbhaySoningra</a></span></span><br />
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Mayukhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12493855168175965782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8580725675408174388.post-82916714182901658922018-07-12T13:49:00.002-04:002019-01-03T23:47:47.680-05:00Stereotypes<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I live in Alpharetta, Georgia in the USA in this community where we have a few other Indian families living too. On Saturday afternoons, it's common to see kids from the community running around or playing at the children's park. I usually go to the gym at night but it being a Saturday, I didn't have work and went to the gym in the afternoon. While there, the gym door opens and two little girls come in. No one except me was in the gym that day and these two girls come in and start playing around the gym floor, running on the treadmills, sliding on it, fiddling with the weight machines etc. Out of concern of them getting hurt somehow, I asked them not to play around with the machines and the treadmill. The older one of the two immediately chirped in saying that they came to the gym everyday around that time to run and play around. Both of them had really long hair tied in braids and of course there was a chance that it could get caught up between the treadmill's rolling mat and it's sides while they sat on it and slid to the end.<br />
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The older one then proceeded to ask me if I came everyday. I said yes but at night. She said she had never seen me. I told her it was probably because I came to the gym at night after work. She said okay and proceeded to tell me entire details about herself and her family without me having asked for any. Kids I tell you! Her name was V(let's say) and her sister's name was P. Her dad worked in an IT firm and her mother was a housewife. She was 9 and her sister was 7 and she liked teasing her sister a lot and her sister never said anything to her. She liked mangoes and her dad was very busy at work, on Saturdays too. Such details without having asked for them lol!<br />
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She asked me where I was from, I said from West Bengal. She said she didn't know where that was and explained that when she came to USA a few years ago, she forgot about India geography. They were originally from Tamil Nadu. She asked me where West Bengal was in India. I told her it was in the east of India, up towards the north and the east. She said she knew about Punjab only in the North and then flatly said, "So you are not from South India, you don't like eating dosa then". I really couldn't say anything and she didn't give a chance to even and she asked me if I have a wife. I said no and told them I live alone. Her reaction to this? "So how do you eat? You must be eating outside mostly" with an expression that said she was sympathizing. I told her that I didn't, I cooked myself. Her reaction to this? "Oh so you are aunty?" I was like why? She said because you know auntys cook and my mother also cooks and my father works. I asked her "Does your father never cook or does he not know how to?" She said "No he can cook, but he only cooks chicken sometimes but he is always working and he works till late night". I asked her, "So will you call your father an aunty because he cooks?" She said, "No no, he is our father, how can he be aunty?" I didn't press further. Acting on this mindset that was suddenly presented by them, I told them that till a month ago I used to have long hair that went below my shoulders. They were shocked and said, "but how can you have long hair? We have long hair, are you a woman?" and giggled. I didn't press further again. I changed the subject and asked them why aren't you playing outside or swimming like the other kids? V says: "No our father told us not to go swimming." I asked why. V said: "He says we will become black, see my sister is already so black, I am still brown" I really didn't know what to say to this and looked at her sister who probably was a little offended and hit her sister. And immediately they started running around, trying to hit each other.<br />
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I stood where I was and looked at them and wondered how it was that these little girls, living and being brought up in such a connected and globalized world, had these above notions ingrained into them at such a young age of nine and seven. They had been living in the USA for years now and went to a school where there were students from different backgrounds and yet these notions were seeded into their young minds. I understand that it's more probable thing to happen in India where the social environment could play a role but this was a different society, a different environment and I wondered where things had gone and was still going wrong. </div>
Mayukhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12493855168175965782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8580725675408174388.post-178987020068670852017-11-09T14:31:00.001-05:002020-05-12T06:18:01.185-04:00Flitting<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It's getting dark outside<br />
The winter cold almost upon us,<br />
I know you are thinking about me as I am about you.<br />
We are cut from the same stone,<br />
pebbles in a stream of consciousness,<br />
eroded, uprooted and heaved<br />
into different corners of the world.<br />
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Morning surrenders itself<br />
into a haze of melancholy<br />
hanging grim from a pale moon.<br />
And when it's eight o'clock<br />
I'll catch a faint whiff of your favorite perfume<br />
as if you had reached the bottom of the stairs.<br />
But that's all there is,<br />
the door won't open and you won't come in.<br />
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I'll come back<br />
before you start to forget my face,<br />
before the glory of the sun fades on your cheek,<br />
before the tern returns to it's nest,<br />
before the thunder reaches it's peak.</div>
Mayukhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12493855168175965782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8580725675408174388.post-71908875804078551062017-10-31T00:40:00.000-04:002017-11-09T09:26:03.867-05:00Overlap: A Collection Of Poems<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<i>"Overlap is the first book by Indian writer Mayukh Chatterji, a
collection of 25 poems that speak about parts of our realities that do
exist and those which we wished existed, stories and of course, romance."</i><br />
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Yes!!!! That's what it says on the Amazon website (<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Overlap-Collection-Poems-Mayukh-Chatterji-ebook/dp/B0778B12S5/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1510236315&sr=8-2&keywords=overlap+book" target="_blank">Buy Overlap@Amazon)</a> !!! <br />
From all the years of blogging that started way back in 2008, I compiled 25 of my poems from my blog and wrote a new one called Overlap, designed the book cover and put it all together and published it through Amazon's services. The book is dedicated to my family and I am thankful to my friends who helped me with their inputs on the book content and the design.<br />
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With this, I am now a published poet. This blog post does seem a little self-obsessed but I did manage to put it all together and get it done. The main influence for this sudden drive has been someone I met recently who has become an essential part of my life somehow.<br />
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<b>The book is available as digital content across all Amazon Kindle devices and the Kindle app for mobile phones across the world.</b> However, it is available as a paperback in select marketplaces of Amazon, namely <a href="http://www.amazon.com/" target="_blank">www.amazon.com </a>, <a href="https://www.amazon.de/" target="_blank">https://www.amazon.de/</a> , <a href="https://www.amazon.fr/" target="_blank">https://www.amazon.fr</a> , <a href="https://www.amazon.es/" target="_blank">https://www.amazon.es</a> , <a href="https://www.amazon.es/" target="_blank">https://www.amazon.jp</a> , <a href="https://www.amazon.es/" target="_blank">https://www.amazon.co.uk</a> , <a href="https://www.amazon.es/" target="_blank">https://www.amazon.it</a><br />
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But the paperback book can be delivered from <a href="https://www.amazon.de/" target="_blank">https://www.amazon.de/</a>market place to most countries around the world. I hope to reach out to readers and build an audience for myself through my writing and the book is somewhat of a success to encourage my own self to keep writing.<br />
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Read and review at (<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Overlap-Collection-Poems-Mayukh-Chatterji-ebook/dp/B0778B12S5/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1510236315&sr=8-2&keywords=overlap+book" target="_blank">Buy Overlap@Amazon)</a>.... <br />
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Mayukhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12493855168175965782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8580725675408174388.post-55638715949076403642017-10-30T22:16:00.002-04:002017-10-31T00:47:05.783-04:00Without you<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Everyday isn't everyday without you.<br />
There could be blackouts and storms<br />
or my house could burn down.<br />
But it wouldn't really be much different without you somehow.<br />
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I know I'll fade away.<br />
But I wish you wouldn't let me.</div>
Mayukhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12493855168175965782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8580725675408174388.post-36269662360632270302017-10-30T22:14:00.001-04:002017-10-30T22:15:54.709-04:00No...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
She said no.<br />
She could see what she had done.<br />
But she said no.<br />
It broke her heart.<br />
She looked at the ground and stared at the pieces of his heart lying on the tiny square of floor space between them.<br />
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Unmoving, he looked at her fingers resting on the lines of fate on his palm.<br />
She shifted a little and fate changed itself.<br />
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Inside that bubble created by two letters,<br />
the silence was deafening.<br />
He felt a weight descend on his shoulders.<br />
She felt light as a balloon.<br />
The surreal had worn off,<br />
overtaken by reality and age.<br />
The final picture could not be the same as the one they had envisioned when they started painting three years ago.<br />
She would dissolve with the paint.<br />
He wouldn't notice she was gone.<br />
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He put the ring into his pocket and smiled.<br />
After all, she could say no if she wanted to.</div>
Mayukhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12493855168175965782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8580725675408174388.post-61538469399124329912017-08-14T12:48:00.000-04:002019-01-03T23:48:20.363-05:00Arrival<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I am sitting at the International Arrivals section of Dulles airport right now and watching people.<br />
Reunions are always special.Different communities of people arriving and being received by their loved ones is something to watch. However different they are, I see no differences in the way they are greeting and hugging each other. Their language may be different but the body language is the exact same- the smiles, the grins, the way their eyes are lighting up, the hugs, the kisses, the running into each other's arms - there is no difference between people. The Arrival Gate is one of the best ways that you can understand we are all the same, the differences we see or read about and hear about are elements fostered in our own minds giving rise to misconceptions, assumptions, prejudices.<br />
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Each child is ditching their bag(s), shrieking and running into their father's, mother's, grandparents', uncles', aunts' arms. They are the best part to watch. Such unadulterated pure joy. It's an amazing experience to watch love among people - you always know there is still so much good in the nooks and corners of life that usually get overshadowed by daily routines, politics and hate.<br />
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Imagine the possibilities if we all stopped a little in our lives to move together as one community instead of focusing on differences between our own selves.Unfortunately, most of it is in our nurture and the way we are brought up. A lot of prejudices and differences get built into the brain and our habits which almost becomes innate and is difficult to overcome. But all we need to do is consciously try. A little effort could always go a long way.<br />
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Mayukhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12493855168175965782noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8580725675408174388.post-6086990095660876942017-08-06T21:41:00.000-04:002019-01-03T23:48:37.072-05:00Loneliness<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
There's something about loneliness that is extremely appealing,almost sensuous, in the way that it meticulously seduces and lures most people into its bear trap. The offer it makes is an escape route from the ever changing chaos we live in - peace, quiet, solitude. This very first offering is its last one and enough to start the avalanche to rock bottom. You foster in this new found solidarity and convince yourself how amazing this feeling is. Somewhere your perception of time gets changed and suddenly you find yourself in the middle of a month or two of peace and quiet.<br />
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During this time you have cut off from the world to enjoy your new found existence. <br />
As you walk through this tunnel of yours, you glance back one day.<br />
That's the point when you realize the escape route makes you feel different now - alone.<br />
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The tunnel has nobody else, it's eerily quiet and the lights behind you have switched off as you trudged ahead. You pause and debate moving ahead now. In this moment of indecision, there is an involuntary urge to stay bathed in lights. After what seems ages, you decide to take a chance and make your way back. You turn around towards the darkness and glance back at the lighted part of the tunnel once. You take a deep breath and start back. This time the lights around you don't turn on as you walk. However, you can see till some distance ahead of you from the lights behind. Then you round a bend and all the light gets sucked up by the dark walls - now all you can do is fumble around in the inkiness to make your way back to the entrance. Needless to say, to go back the same distance takes more time and effort than it took for you to cover it in your initial spike of exuberance and euphoria.<br />
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Mayukhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12493855168175965782noreply@blogger.com0