Time Machine

I built a time machine. And let me tell you – not an easy task! The dials go wonky, the hands refuse to sync with moon’s gravity and the batteries run out before you can even think 2050!

This was supposed to be a multi-directional machine. Forward and back. Left and right (Not including up and down as I don’t want to wake the Gods and the Devils). You fancy seeing your great-grandfather build the cabin by the lake or your future great-grandchildren pull it down to pieces? Hop on! Want to visit a parallel dimension to see how that meal would have tasted with an extra pinch of nutmeg or how that astronomy course might have changed your life? Got you covered!

To test it out, I had to choose the perfect moment to visit. I was seriously tempted to take a sneak peak into the future to see how the gamble D and I took with our lives would turn out. Or take a spin into the past when times were simple and safe. Or perhaps take a glimpse of an alternate reality where we stayed put in India.

That is pretty much when the time-machine ended up in the junkyard.

I now know I would have seen a future full of anxiety and second-guessing and frustration! Not to mention Canadian winters!! That itself would have been enough to firmly tie myself to the good ol’ climate of Pune. But would those stolen moments of the future done justice to the depth of my journey getting here? I am guessing no. My present tells me more about my future than the actual future; without my present, I have no future.

There is no moment I would rather be in than my present, exactly the way it is Рcrudely packaged with mistakes and lessons and bursts of brilliance. 

My curiosity refuses to go back to sleep though. It keeps wanting to know! I am smart enough to not try to interpret the predictions of Nostradamus but neither am I so sophisticated that I won’t do those cheesy prediction tests on the internet ūüėÄ Hey! If I am destined to be a travel guide in Prague then there is always hope right??

I feel like I am forever trying to strike a deal with time – Don’t tell me the answers, but give me the four options!¬†Or a teaser pack if you will. A movie trailer of my life with cool background music doesn’t sound so bad!

I play with online prediction tests while I resist the call to salvage the time-machine.

What would you do?

Talk to the Mirror

Image result for look in the mirror
Almost there!

I don’t remember the last time I really looked at my reflection in the mirror – not even on my wedding day. Typically I spend a few¬†minutes required each morning to ensure that I pass off as a reasonable human specimen at work. Otherwise, I simply avoid looking at myself and examining what or who is really looking back at me.

It has been a whirlwind few months for me… Physically,¬†I have taken some time off to rejuvenate.¬†Mentally? It’s a blank slate. It was a riot outside of me while¬†inside there resided a long silence. It is still quiet – I do have¬†thoughts that flicker like a match – aflame and powerful for a moment then quickly burning out into smoke and ash *my drafts folder nods enthusiastically*

It feels like I was living in a dream while dreams feel like reality! My life gets a … life… at night as I am dreaming away to Pluto; I feel more alive then instead of the waking hours as¬†a clockwork human where I am¬†just checking off my present and losing the sense of time. Looking into the mirror and trying to talk to myself was difficult as we were both working on different surreal platforms. What if I don’t recognize the person in the mirror? Or what if we get into a fight? They are both me right?

I know there is no permanence to this phase of feeling “out of it” as I am already¬†getting back in it! It’s just a slow evolution which¬†is work in progress – that should explain the limbo stage of life.

Every day I tell myself Рtomorrow I will look at myself really hard in the mirror and stay longer than the time taken to apply my eye-liner. I want to talk it out Рbring closure to our incomplete conversations.

Til then, I will just sleep it out – that works, right?

How do you talk to yourself, if you do? Written for JustJoJan¬†– today’s prompt was “Incomplete” as given by¬†Cyn of That Cynking Feeling.¬†

Lost in the Party!

Source: http://www.gratisography.com/pictures/281_1.jpg

I was at a party last night. A party I gate crashed actually. I wasn’t invited even though everyone around me had received one of those glossy gold and blue invitation cards. I really¬†wanted to be there, so I decided to cleverly make my way inside. I knew I deserved to be there and see all those people.

I fully expected to feel like a deer in headlights on my entrance; instead I was looked right through. No one noticed as I slipped between groups or deliberately bumped into them. There wasn’t even a polite smile directed my way. I had prepared some truly witty sentences that I could throw around and practiced my laugh at hundred times in front of the mirror (Remember, left profile is more flattering!). I wanted my troubles to finally pay off… and how dare not a single person acknowledge my presence. I was visible; I had double-checked my reflection.

Time to reveal a secret – I didn’t even know who was throwing the party. I barely knew the people there – two or five I guess. Don’t ask me anything beyond their names. But I had to be there! It was the¬†cr√®me de la cr√®me!¬†The numerous years I have spent in bylines have made me an expert at studying those upturned angles of the jaw. The delicate touch of fingers to mouth and elegant flick of an errant lock of hair from the eyes. The rich perfume that followed their steps – the luxuriant air of confidence and belonging. They thrive in that comfort and assurance; here they find a kinship that I have been craving and trying to cultivate.

This was my moment. It was time for me take the spotlight and make them notice me. I jumped into the very eye of the tornado and loudly announced my presence. My senses were on high alert to demonstrate my lines and gestures right on cue. Heard I was and seen I definitely was. I was also groped and tugged and pinched and pulled. Not that I felt anything. I had arrived and was basking in the moment. Did that cute guy just let out a loud guffaw over something I said? Oh my! Bring up a round of champagne please.

It was nearing dusk as I decided to make my excuses. I carefully matched my steps with other regular¬†guests as we made our way towards the door. I happened to glance at the mirror and to my shock, I couldn’t find myself. I twisted and turned trying to find my reflection but it was not there. I asked someone if they could see me and they gave me a strange look as they replied “There is no you. There is only us now. Us!”

I didn’t understand and look! There was someone in the reflection who was wearing the same look of confusion. I realized it was my body. Just not the same one that had walked into the party. I could see a twisted arm, a forked tongue and glazed eyes. I saw faint rashes¬†around my neck almost like a rope had been at it and a complicated knot weighing down my head. I was truly one of them – matching feature to feature. I was not me. I had left that me behind at the party probably cowering into a corner. I could see her at a distance, growing fainter in the rising sun and looking at me with grim accusation.

Until we never met again.

Of Masks and Then Some…

Source: Deviantart

I love masks! Absolutely obsessed with them… Over the years, with exchanges¬†and forages around unexpected haunts I managed to¬†build an impressive collection.

Let’s see. My go-to mask is my relaxed-and-easy-going one. I wear it for my social engagements, cooking expeditions and random late evening walks. I adore my rare coral twinkly-eyed number intuitively worn in the company of bakery items and happy dogs. Rare so because the mask has a tendency to make me look totally slightly batty to the world.

My second most-used albeit¬†the least preferred is my serious-and-yes-I-am-responsible one. At times I wish I had never found it, but life didn’t really give me a choice and I had to grudgingly add it to my collection. And boy! Was it exorbitant or what! It came at the cost of my sarcastic-but-mischievous masterpiece I had lovingly honed over time and now sits mortgaged¬†on most workdays. A flirtatious one with golden trimmings, a¬†firmly-determined piece and the classic¬†oh-look-at-me-I’m-so-sympathetic also find themselves on the top shelf. And while I am working madly to get hold of a grim-and-angry mask,¬†for the life of me I cannot locate it. The alternative¬†I found sadly bears a close resemblance¬†scrunchingmynose.

My chest is nowhere full, but with time I will add and start mixing & matching those personalities. Just like playing with my wardrobe! Maybe borrow from someone once in a while. Or¬†combine a few¬†for the super-chic look that goes with certain¬†situations. I even have a good mind to throw on an¬†inappropriate¬†one just for kicks. ¬†If nothing else works, I browse and get myself a new mask. As long as it doesn’t come at the cost of my soul, I am cool adding it to my rapidly expanding collection.

I have mastered the science of carrying my masks along without drawing attention to the bulk weighing me down. A skill that took me a while to develop but now I wouldn’t trade it for the world! Can you imagine being faced with your significant other, his ex-girlfriend, your hard-nosed manager and the yummy waffle¬†stall at the same time? Well ‚Äď I just imagined and trust me ‚Äď that colossal¬†set of masks nestling me is my lone hope for survival and sanity.

Addressing the elephant in the room, what of the face behind the mask? Well! It is absolutely flawless and concealed. The mirror is fogged with the reflections of the masks and the courage to to wipe it keeps eluding. It tries to convince itself that perfection is ideal and exposure will mar its beauty with scars, lines and abrasions. The conviction is failing even as I write this and my face desperately wants to breathe in the spring air. A smile blooms in reminiscence and earns a few wrinkles while thinking of the select few with whom the masks lay forgotten. Hopefully, a day will come when I am able to donate my entire collection to an antique museum Рsimply to look at and to learn from.

 Image Source

Blackout | Empty Recess


Incomprehensible nods of his head,
Quietly daring to raise his voice,
He pushed through with his hand.
A childish old man –
….Just enough sense left,
He watches to see.
To scare this apparition away entirely.
Empty recess for a man,
A form of torture –
….A sermon to be looked down at.

With Kafka’s fine words in hand, I referred to Page 161 from The Trial. Was amazed at the output.

Today at dVerse, Bjorn is hosting Meeting the Bar where the theme is Blackout Poem. Grab a book-page, black out and type out the rest in order. Voila! Your poem is unraveled… Very very interesting!