The Silence of My Voice

Hello. It's Day Three! Incompletion is an art form. As tempted as I was, to leave this post just at that, I don't reckon my blog deserves this humour jolt at three in the morning. Most times, in life, we can't see things through. Can't or won't. In either case, it really is a matter of choice, only one overruled slightly more by fear and insecurities. And, I'm strongly of the belief that certain things in life can't be overcome simply by the sheer gall of being bigger than your fears. But, I'm also of the belief that everything in life is easily ignorable. As trivial as that sounds, the easiest thing in the world is to unlearn what you know than learning something new. So, unearth yourself. Trace back where you begin, and be very clever to let the reason of that beginning be nondescript. It's easy. It's as easy as trying to remember why you started walking. Because, biology. And, yet most of us don't forget to retrace, fall to our kne...

Hey. It's Day Two! For the harshness that creeps into the weather this time of the year, there's also a softness you feel. It's as if you can wrap a part of winter around your hand and drag it back home with you. There's something malleable about it, something human. That's what winters are. They're slightly human. Humans are like mosaics - whatever they're a mixture of, somehow all of them end up looking pleasing to the eyes. Winters too, are beautiful to look at, but so grim to be in. And that is most people in life. The only consolation is that summer will arrive. And that's also the hope most of us carry with us. That, there'll always be more people. And amidst that one simple belief, there'll always be things keeping you up at night. I could never quiet my mind. There was always something going on. Restlessness has always been my shadow. As it must be, for most people in different ways. As if there are people who dance, and people wh...

Hello. It's Day One! It's been quite a few months since I wrote  Ink . It's been quite a year up until now, I dare say. I'd also rather actually not, considering my life sets itself up as an appropriate illustration for, if there's ever a book to be written, about the unexpected. This year has most sufficiently (I don't know for whose benefit), has run by me like a speeding train.  2016 couldn't pass any slower, and 2017 just wouldn't halt. The velocity with which it went by, makes me feel as though if I look back, it'll all be painted up in a big, black blotch. Funny, that it isn't. It's really has been one of the most memorable years of my life. It falls under the category of one of those years where every occurrence only led to something else - more and better, or diminishing or worse, are two different stories altogether. It almost felt like I was back in the space where I was halfway through college. I had routine. I had familiar...

My fluttering pages knew, for each time, You walked through a rue singing its song, for, Each time, you dived into afflictions, Bloating your palate, with, Walking the grievous, yet ravishing the sublime, You inked me with all the times, you, Crystallised yourself with the silhouette of others, 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, And flushed everyone in all the tinges that shaped you, You inked me with all the times, you, You were a rain-laden, lone, dark cloud, Efflorescing a flower in me, each time you poured, I came to you with folded edges, and bleeding covers, With blankness in pages, you coloured me up, With the simple, and the difficult, With the together, and the alone, With the Van Gogh, and the Hemingway, With the stories, and the slags, all the same, I came to you with haemorrhaging lines, And you wrote to me, wrote in ...

Drib by drib, all the water ambitiously flowed, Over its head to climactically reach where the world began, Each time the water surges over it, only the rock knew, What seemed like pelting to the world, Were a thankful million different kisses and marks, The Creek left over each minute, To keep the pebbles from echoing its name, And halting its journey, Seldom do people realise the lull sung, Of the gushing water, Is the Creek's love bleeding out on its land, For it knows it's soon to depart to a world untouched, Even better when it rains, for there's, Nothing better than being loved your lover, and, Being haunted by them at the same time, With the constant love, the constant contact, It felt like the Creek's touch yet time and again, Was just another echo of how much it adored the gravel, That helped him with such grace at, Every turn, the mountains were malevolent of their semblance, And while the world saw the fervour of the ...

And most times it would remain about the sheer acrimony of everything that contacted you through those tips like hot wax pouring on your skin, each time you pulled out the ill-fated diary. For, each time, you would try to corral her onto your rag of mishaps, your chagrin spread like wildfire all over the pulp, every time your prose approaches with lesser dignity but such allure, the time she validated your existence in her life. For, each time, you spoke of the winters she carried, you reminisced her pasty hands wrapped in the rusty gloves, reminding you of Christmas morning around your expiring pyre. For, each time, you would try to scrawl about trust being the first step to betrayal, you would fondly tell the worn leathers about your birthday that fateful year. For, each time, you curse her narcissism obnoxiously, I hear whispers of you humming a sonnet of her altruism when you found those orphans. For, each time, you would boast over the beer of having held her down the longest, y...

Hello. It's Day Twenty Four. Merry Christmas, everyone! Twenty four days of writing are over. When I'd gone through the first week of BlogMas, it felt like the month was passing by so slow that BlogMas would never end. And now, I'll have to wait for another whole year to do this. I'll be honest. I was a little wary of doing BlogMas this year. It did take a toll. After work, I had to be awake till wee hours in the night to write every post. I reckon I did a poorer job of this year's BlogMas than last year considering I really haven't had much response this time. Though I have to thank every single one of you who still clicked my links everyday and read all the nonsense I wrote for twenty four days, because my page-views have never been better. So, thank you. I know if a job's worth doing then it's worthy of having some effort put into it. This year, I didn't articulate anything. I wasn't sensitive enough to how pleasant everything I'm writ...

Hello. It's Day Twenty Three. Two days to go. I've officially turned twenty three. On twenty-third day of BlogMas. There's nothing cool about it. Forget it. Yes, I'm sitting inside a blanket again, writing this post. But with a bowl of raspberry jelly. My mother knows I like jelly. So, okay, yesterday's post will go live with this one. That's two posts late this BlogMas. Last year, it was four, I reckon. That's not too bad considering this year was much busier than the last. Do not forget to read  Day Twenty Two . Speaking of, 2016 is also on the verge of ending. I'm excited for 2017. Not in a new year kind of way. 2016 was a year of a lot of changes for me. College ending, new job, new people, new city. With so much that happened, I still felt that nothing ensued at all this year. And to gather all that was occurring in an absolute whirl, I needed to sit back and think upon how it has affected me for the opposite of what I felt to be eventuated....

Hello. It's Day Twenty Two. Three days to go. Essentially two. But no lip. It was my birthday. On the night of twenty-third(24), that is. I wanted to gift myself some sleep. This post should have been up last night, but since you're reading it today you'll have to consider that you are de facto reading it on the night of twenty-third. My flight was also late, so please. I was quite busy eating cake inside a blanket while lying on a blanket, and passing out from sugar coma. And since it is twenty-third, I drove home for Christmas tonight. I always felt cold mostly in my feet during winters. The moment I stepped out of the airport to get to my brother, it was hurtful for me to walk. I knew it was cold, my feet instantly cramped and I knew I was home. Thus, began the process of putting myself into a sugar (and food, I'm cheeky like that) coma. You don't really miss home when you're away from it. You miss the comfort. I feel like I've spoken about this befor...

Hello. It's Day Twenty One. Four Days to go. The year is just shy of almost a week from being over. No. No sharing resolution talk. And it's funny how most people resort to resolutions to bring about change they need in life only around new year. It isn't as if we live a programmed life so it's acceptable to choose one day and burden it with all you want to change in your life. Life happens all year around. It might be a yearly cleansing routine of oneself for some people, if that makes any sense. And, I know a few people who diligently follow their resolutions through to the end, and on top of that plan out what they want to achieve for themselves in the coming year. That's planning and resolving.  And the main criteria about resolutions is to understand that if life taking place takes time, then so does the changes you want to make to it. It's not an overnight process. Hang on a bit. And decide to your level best what is not good, but necessary for you. ...

Hello. It's Day Twenty. Five days to go. I'm not going to lie. Daily blogging was easy in college, even amidst end of semester juries. No joke. I feel like a robot that doesn't need charging, but feels like it does. There need to be 40-hour days. If not enough sleep, at least there'd be enough time to finish whatever work you initiate every morning. The sheer amount of satisfaction at the end of a day, aaaaaa! Unimaginable. I was listening to a very classic 90s Bollywood song. And I remembered this one day of a Lighting class - just consider there was a class because 90% were dozing. And since me and my friend (Read:Apek) were on the verge of dozing too, because hey, we were also bored. In retrospect, it would have been much better if there were discussions instead of writing Lighting basics on board like a school teacher, who in turn are so techie now. iPads and soft boards and all. I don't think children today will understand the charm of a blackboard. Or ...

Hello. It's Day Nineteen. And, six days to Christmas. I'm quite blank for this one, here. Last year, during BlogMas I had done a trail with all the posts. It just constantly kept spinning with whatever I ended the post about on each day. This time, I thought I'd take each day as it comes and as it happens and actually talk to you about it. But today, I'm blank. I could talk to you about how I spent my day, if knowing the happenings of an architecture studio interest you. But how wondrous it is to not be able to think of anything. Everyday we try so hard to switch off and avoid social media for a bit. Not think at all, and be still. But when our brain switches off all by its own effort, we're worried and restless.  It's an extraordinary gift, to control the mind using the mind itself. Sounds like cannibalism a bit to me, if I'm honest. You use your mind to feed your mind full with satisfaction. This happens to be one really advantageous practice that ...

Hello. It's Day Eighteen. Just a week to Christmas. When I started BlogMas this year again, I was fretting about not being able to see it till the end. At each passing day, I would think of how many days still to go for Christmas. And now, I'm trying to stir up a new excuse to do daily blogging in some other month. It's important to cherish. I miss college. More so, I miss the freedom and carelessness that I harboured. And the transition is drastic, you know. You don't even realise where it's all gone. But my fourth year was most definitely an absolute blast! I reckon by that time we all had been together enough years and grown up enough to hold those friendships dear. And I think there are always a couple of them that run deeper. Right out of school, everyone thinks they've probably crossed a long phase of their lives, and the nose is consequentially quite a bit up in the air. And that is also an age where we are least bothered about who thinks what of us...

Hello. It's Day Seventeen. Since I was a kid, I always saw my parents donate a lot. Monetarily or materialistically. And that always got to me. There came a time when myself and my brother reached a certain age where we understood that everything holds value, and that the value of something depended on how much you're entitled to in life. As kids, there were times when my brother and I would want something more, or just more things for the sheer heck of it. I reckon after our first tantrum, our father once showed us a beggar, armless and helpless, and asked us if the correct way of looking at our lives is to realise we have more by how many standards, or how much lesser than whom. So, until we were teenagers and we needed things that were more constant, each year on our respective birthdays, our parents would make us pick out things that we didn't need anymore, or would probably be of more use to someone than us. Clothes, books, toys, shoes, previous year notebooks to s...

Hello. It's Day Sixteen. It is also my two hundredth post on this blog. My grandfather always preferred to write his poems in Hindi or Urdu. This is for him, and my father. "...live in the question."                                                      - Rainer Maria Rilke वो चीज़ ढूंढता रहा ज़िन्दगी भर  जिसे पाने के लिए कुछ खर्च न करना पढ़े  भूल गया था रोज़ की दस्तूरी में  जिसे खर्च करना था वही पल गवा रहा था।  वो पल ढूंढता रहा ज़िन्दगी भर  जिन में सिर्फ अख़बार के पन्नो का  जहाज़ बनाना भी सपना लगता था  जवानी तक आते आते भूल गया जिस पल की तलाश थी, वो ग़ुम था  मगर मेरा बचपन तो अब भी मेरे साथ ही था।  वो पल के इंतज़ार में गुज़ार दिया पूरा पहर  उसी खिड़की के सामने, देखता था जहाँ से  गाड़ियों को सारे मौसम पार करते हुए  किरणों से बूंदों का सफ़र नप भी गया...