The Silence of My Voice

Hello. It's Day Twenty Four, and the last day of Christmas. My blogging this year has been most irregular. And yet, this year I had more people reading me up than ever. Through work, late nights, and wear and tear, I tried my best to finish it.  A very Merry Christmas to all of you. I hope you had a great and a thankful one. There's always time lost in lives, there's always things to be done and there's always some lessons learnt from it too. Wait. All of us are long exposure photographs. Just wait, something beautiful will definitely turn out if it. Merry Christmas. I'll see you in 2018. Until then. Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas. A.

Hello. It's Day Twenty Three! I turned 24.  I believe in Santa Claus.  I don't think repression saves you from anything potentially hurtful or helps you get anywhere.  I don't think the universe gets you what you want, you have to fight for it lock, stock and barrel.  I don't think there's any such thing as happiness or sadness, you just are. You're just energy. I think there are always people who are wishing you well.  I think all of us are secretly a bit of villains ourselves inside.  I think only friendships last.  Nobody is ever good enough, you only need to be that for yourself.  I think we all crave limelight and turn tail from it at the same time. There is absolutely nothing as beautiful as getting a hug from a person who's been missing you. There is also nothing as comparable to the warmth in a closeness with another human. I think you can easily fall in love at first sight. You can also fall out of it in one si...

Hello. It's Day Twenty Two! Each time my work holds me from blogging on time, I just feel the excitement of edging closer to Christmas and the end of BlogMas slips down a few notches just that much. But, you do what you got to. And amidst all this work and thrill of chaos and order around you at the same time, is probably what pulls me back time and again, regardless of my exhaustion. Completely taking into account this time a lot of my posts have been a couple days late, I've thoroughly enjoyed this BlogMas. Since the day I started blogging, I've tried to be like my blog as much as I could. It's been there with me through thick and thin, and through the worst of days. It's still been here when I've ignored it, and even when I've cursed out loud a few times for the obligation of having to finish BlogMas. That is also how all of us are in life. As humans, we are so comfortable accepting that we are flawed, we easily excuse ourselves from situations we nee...

Hello. It's Day Twenty One! We make the blunder of assuming everything will last in our lives every single day. When you think something will last, you take it for granted. And, I can't fathom if our generation does half the things it does because they care or because they're curious. However, either of it doesn't stop us from taking more on. Only hindrance being that to take everything we want on, we have to make room by scrunching it in spaces that we filled for ourselves. Take a breath. If something at all, I've learnt this year is to not pile myself with something because I might need it. I learnt that it's more important to make memories than be stuck under the weight of something you elected annex ourselves with the load of whatever catches our fancy. And whenever you need, you might find traces of everything you've fallen for in the truest, most pristine and undiluted way in the places you created them memories. Not in the sense of having to run a...

Hello. It's Day Twenty! What do you miss having?   Winters.  What are you hiding? Doodles. What is it that makes you nostalgic? Mohammed Rafi. What grounds you? Dad.  What awes you? Mom. What repulses you? Disdain.  What scandalises you? Boys. What habit stops you from loving something else? Habits. What's your drug? Architecture.  What's your poison? Me.  What's your weakness? Brother. What does the back of your notebook say? Bye. Who is that hidden note in your wallet from? Dad. Which book is stuffed in the corners of your shelves you're possessive of? Tales of Two Cities. What turns you on? Kindness.  What turns you off? Ego. What's your name? Clio.  What season do you like? Winters . What does your coffee taste like? Bitter.  What time are you most vulnerable? Now. What is it you keep retreating to? Walks.  Where is your hiding place? On the road. Why that shirt? The perfume. How old is y...

Hello. It's Day Nineteen! I want to get lost for a while. Absolutely irretrievable.  I don't want to think about my circumferences or my boundaries.  I want to be cast away. I want to be at sea, I want to be at mountains.  I want to be alone, I want to be in a crowd.  I want to assist in an orphanage, I want to be in a gang.  I want to be numb, I want to be wailing.  I want to have theatricals, I want to have mellowness.  I want some tight hugs, I want to be running away from people. I want to love abundantly, I want to hate redundantly.  I want to be black and white, I want to be grey.  I want to be beautiful, I want to be sharp.  I want to gulp coffee, I want to sip teas.  I want to curl my hair, I want to go bald. I want to travel, I want to settle.  I want to build, I want to break.  I want to be a haiku, I want to be a novel. I want to be blithe, I want to be an artist. I want to ...

Hello. It's Day Eighteen! I don't buy that people are like books. We aren't an assemblage of chapters or an assortment of short stories for someone to decipher. I think all of us are movies. There's one, and it's final. The only difference is some people can afford an interim, while most slog off into oblivion. Probably that's why we enjoy movies. Probably, that's also why we enjoy seeing other people pass through their lives, liking some, hating some. And while we're busy appreciating someone else's movie, we often forget that we don't have to be wary of ourselves while we admire others. It's in that transition of forgetting to love yourself, we leave track of our own fables. And we forget that the little things aren't so little. Sometimes we dispossess our sense of control from one take to another. But, just like in the films when there's a pause of change taking place, where you don't know what's going to hit you next, ...

Hello. It's Day Seventeen! And barely a week to Christmas. It's a heady thought. To be someone's knight. To have someone believe in you so recklessly, you feel invincible. Isn't that what all of us are unknowingly looking out for? For someone to make us seem unassailable? Or is it something they just merely want us to believe? Power, fame, money, love, hatred, friendship, kindness - all in their own capacity yield the unyielded in us. And yet, we are at our rockiest when another human does the same. And it's such a twisted little thing, you know. We are amongst the most evolved. And when something as concrete as a human mind affects another, to make it feel invincible, it's a drug like no other. Perhaps, its the kind of chapter in all of our lives we never recite vociferously. It's that one secret summer from all our lives. Perhaps. And this is not a thought that's too important, but I can't help give it one anyway. Are we made to feel unbreakabl...

Hello. It's Day Sixteen! Time passes anyway, doesn't it? And we never realise the point where our losses transition from being that to just another stories in our lives. And it's essential for that point to come in because traveling back in time is not an option. But what if it was? What's the first thought that creeps into your mind when you imagine getting the chance to change certain happenstances or something you did or someone you met? And you can figure that out only when you have learnt what you really want or who you really want to be out of it. And that's the problem with most of us. We don't really know ourselves enough to answer that question. Or does anyone? I reckon everyone struggles all their lives to find out who they really are. And anybody who says they don't, are just plain lazy. Everyone struggles. Everyone is stuck in a vast, unending bedsheet life wrapped them in and we all are just tussling our way out. And all of us are mighty cur...

Hello. It's Day Fifteen! Assuredly, bringing myself up to date with this one. Since the last two days were also posted recently, you can catch them on  Day13  and  Day14 . There are always somethings very known between two people. Manifested, yet mute. This taciturnity, on even the worst days I feel, subsists the most vital air around them. The things unuttered, yet understood are the kinds I'm afraid of the most. It's not even what we call reading between the lines. It's just plain understood within the shared understanding of people who understand each other. Keep thinking. Joke. Words for me are powerful. I don't hold actions above words. It's easy to pretend and smile and be polite. The words are where you find all your answers. I'm always scared of what people are going to orate next. Words are so important to me, I fall into the category of stupid who'll take your word over your sign if you mean it. And I have an elephant's memory. Things...

Hello. It's Day Fourteen! 2017 has been eventful. Work, people, movies, writing, books, music, love, friendships, dance, drinking, singing, jumping, crying, laughing, cry-laughing, eating, starving, sleeping, running, I have lived this year. And more than living this year, I felt restless as ever. I felt alive. I felt electric.  Until then. Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas. A.

Hello. It's Day Thirteen! I know this and the next one is coming up a couple days late, but I've been slogging just a wee bit more than usual, so pardon me. So I'm going to keep this one rather simple and jot down some of my favourite things I worded and are still date so very close to my heart. Just how a barista demands for the milk,   To dance its way into the coffee's life,   You inked me with all the times, you,   Morphed beautifully when autumns touched you, For when will the world comprehend, Each of them rocks formed ludicrously, was only, Creek trying to break his way through the mountains' many hearts, The many hearts she granted to be broken, For someone could fathom, The beauty of breaking hearts, and letting their, Own Creek through, The moss of the lamps reminded him of the unripeness of the bedroom doors he squirrelled behind, each night, when the clock struck ten, and his old man in turn struck any visible hide he...

Hello. It's Day Twelve! An anaesthetic mind is a brilliant one, but also an apathetic one at that. Numbness is a nearly adamant quality to adapt as a human. But as humans we're also immensely soft inside. One merely needs a hand and we disintegrate into a million masses of a million people who've been living inside us all our lives. Real isn't what you feel when you're by yourself. You're really your true self once in your life when everything you take as gospel comes crashing down in front of you. When you're busy dissipating along with your beliefs. We all find lost pieces of ourselves in various people we meet everyday. I hardly believe we like anyone because they're similar to us or completely opposite to us. I, undisputedly, regard that we like people who're missing what you dropped off somewhere a long time ago. Because you associate more easily with that sparseness than you do with what you both endow. And we're always looking to lose ...

Hello. It's Day Eleven! We settle a lot. For a generation that's mindlessly nomadic in their choices, we settle for things we shouldn't. And that's probably the issue. That's why we most times we pretend we're happy. The others, even if we are, we are like a switch that's triggered by the slightest of current, and we plummet into another dimension altogether in our minds. That'a because we settled, and ended up in a place we weren't meant to fit in. But we also are a generation that's bent on tailoring whatever surroundings we end up in to fit us. Don't get me wrong. That trait, though opaque, is appreciable. It's a trait that tells me that anything is possible. Anything is buildable. And most days, instead of building what suits us, we rent in with a heavy price where we don't even realise how much we change ourselves for that. Same logic as water in differently shaped containers. Only that we aren't fluid, and it hurts to cu...

Hello. It's Day Ten! It was, today, a legit thirty-hour working day. It started yesterday, for people with weak math. Deadlines are scary and funny at the same time. And in such times, is all one can undoubtedly turn to. As I did for the last two years, I have another BlogMas Rewind. I just keep going back to older music.  Broken by the love, This hurt divides itself, Decided that kissing you is bad for my health हम आपके क़दमों पर, गिर जाएंगे ग़श  खा कर, इस पर भी न,  आँचल की हवा दे तो I will judge myself, Guilty of loving you too much, I will offer you my whole self, not just my best लाख़ मना ले दुनिया,  साथ न यह छूटेगा, आके मेरे हाथों में, हाथ न यह छूटेगा The world was on fire and no one could save me but you It's strange what desire will make foolish people do I'd never dreamed that I'd love somebody like you And I'd never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you   ज़िन्दगी के रास्ते अजीब हैं, इन में इस तरह न कीजिये, ख़ै...

Hello. It's Day Nine! Humans are vectors. There's not one of us who moves without any direction. And probably, that's why we never have stories. Because for most of us, home has only one address. For a generation that has no sense of belonging, we're quite stuck up in one place. And the problem with ourselves is that we think we can make ourselves bulletproof, without coming to the fruition about how unrealistic it is. We don't even try to lose the sense of arriving anywhere ever. Count it out. Since, as long as you can remember, there's never been a place where you've not tried reaching. Turn that route about once. Home is anywhere as long as you meet people, you smile at them, you pass by them. All our life, we keep from turning into ourselves and take a real, good look at the map your mind is already attuned to. Use that map, manage the mischief. That's where your stories lie. Until then. Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas. A.

Hello. It's Day Eight! Have you ever met your soul? Ever felt it chuffed, or screaming or mourning? That person you keep hearing inside your head is you. Always you. Your soul is the person who holds you from losing the last of your inklings when you're wailing into your pillow alone at night. Or when you reach out to the world at times when you're completely empty, but not just yet. When you reach out to give more than you can afford, because it will all come back to you. Because nobody ever wants to keep too much stuff from someone else for too long, no matter how good or irresistible it is. That Person is also your biggest vulnerability. That's the person who's hiding behind you when you're shining in the limelight, when all she wants is her pajamas and some ice cream to celebrate. That's the Person at her most aggressive when you're busy wallowing, turning within yourself. Sometimes we forget we carry more people with us than just ourselves. Ther...

Hello. It's Day Seven! For anybody who thought, like last two years, yesterday's was the post that I missed as a ritual. I didn't. I'm here. I also wasn't here last night because work. Always. I feel like my work is my Lily Potter. And it is quite heady. Unstoppable hours of work at an end is another rush altogether. But not when you're overdosing on caffeine. And this is definitely something that changes you. And your bias towards a certain recipe that works for you. Disposing yourself for mental and physical work for so long morphs you as a person. It does concern me however, sometimes that over-working myself does hold me back from being 100% of what I want to be. But then everyone, in any scenario, are not the same person they were. And for me, the scariest thing in this world is the possible ambiguity of knowing or not knowing if you gave your work your all. Nobody knows what will hit them in life or how much time each one of us has. For now, do what yo...

Hello. It's Day Six! Presence is a powerful thing. I believe that it's dubious to think that presence is intangible. It's not. It's so thick, you can cut it with a knife. And most days, you might not even need it. Rather, we fool ourselves into believing that we don't need it. The damn cheeky truth of it is, we're quite the scavengers for it. It's a very simple equation, like between a table and chair. Of course, a table can be used on its own, for things, not humans. When you use it, you'll depend on a chair. Something as vivid as a presence doesn't exist all by itself. With it, you feel a multitude of inklings that you never realise you collect like money in a piggy all day long. You get laughter, and conversations, and warmth, and anger, and hugs, and kisses, and ideas, and friendships. And, all that makes a presence all the more palpable. It works just as well as a cup of marvellously brewed coffee. Or at least I reckon so, because just me an...

Hello. It's Day Five! The naked honesty of, Ambiguous glances, There's that dishonour pertaining, of course, But to what, just? The greed of craving the warmth, Of another soul? Wise man, if he must, Fall prey to oblivion, For the people might be abhorrent, To the meticulous play of souls, But hear, something is hushed, One heartbeat at a time, Thumping the doors for its release, Just me, I reckon, But how can one fight, Their own soul's ignominy, "Look me in the eyes", The voice hung in the air like fog in winter, Like soft velvet, in the hands of a slimy lady, The sky craving the wild blue yonder, Defiling the night's susceptibility, Against the harshness of the barren roads, And he smiled, for he knew, There's no shame, in wanting another person. Had to write one. Until then. Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas. A.

Hello. It's Day Four! What do you miss having? What are you hiding? What is it that makes you nostalgic? What grounds you? What awes you? What repulses you? What scandalises you? What habit stops you from loving something else? What's your drug? What's your poison? What's your weakness? What does the back of your notebook say? Who is that hidden note in your wallet from? Which book is stuffed in the corners of your shelves you're possessive of? What turns you on? What turns you off? What's your name? What season do you like? What does your coffee taste like? What time are you most vulnerable? What is it you keep retreating to? Where is your hiding place? Why that shirt? How old is your grandma? How tall is your list of ambition? How come your eyes are green in light? How come you don't like pasta? Which dress makes you look sexy? What's your jam? What song do you cry to? When do you cry? How...