Less Noisy

The last thing I want to do is wilt away in self-pity. It’s not exactly becoming of the kind of person I am, as hidden as it is under the layers of frustration and annoyance.

I took a digital break, and made a small visit to meet some friends. Three days of bliss … that too doggie bliss! My friends adopted a dog a few months back and that mutt brought a touch of happy reality after this really long haze. He made me laugh, he made love and he made me feel. Waking up to his kisses and demands for belly rub was therapy – a doggie therapy.

D has been a blessing throughout, putting up with my mood swings, and basically being a ticking bomb. He ensures there is a good supply of chocolate and feel-good movies, and smartly gets out of the way. He also cajoled me into embracing the Marvel Cinematic Universe and now all I want in life is my very own Groot and Jarvis.

I read the comments on my earlier post and it moved me beyond words. To know that what I am feeling is completely normal and definitely not something to be ashamed of was heartening. What really touched me was the fact that all the support came absolutely without any judgements! It was pure and complete.

I am writing this, on my way to the year-end break. I wasn’t entirely sure it was going to happen given the circumstances but it is happening. While I don’t want to say I am running away from work, but yes… this is a conscious decision to initiate the detox. I want that noxious poison out – it’s been brewing for way too long and I don’t want to infect the people I love with it.

Thank you so much. I am definitely seeing the light at the end of the tunnel

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Noise

There has been a buzz inside my head, a silent disturbing noise that fades into the background but doesn’t quite let go of its hold on your mind.

I feel like I am spending my time in slow-motion, as the world passes by leaving a trail of scraps and lost bits of hope. I never really understood what it feels like to be in this. When some of my friends went through a really horrible phase, they put the words to their feelings but I could never understand. I always used to feel that just focus, gather the strength to take control of the situation and move forward.

And now, I realised how naive I was. How do you focus when the whole world is blurred? How do you gather strength when even getting up drains you of all motivation? How do you take control when there is nothing to take charge of!! There is no situation, there are no people, there is no direction.

The world is fine. It’s my head that’s in the limbo state. It’s just blank with the taunting noise serving as a sign of the existence of the negativity wrapped in my conscience. It’s been screaming, but even if someone listens, I don’t think I know what those words are.


I have been AWOL. I might be for some time more. It’s a mess.

To Give or Not to Give

Alms

A stony heart is essential if you are living and travelling in India. The hoopla of economic growth and prosperity feels like sheer blasphemy as you take in the sights of streets.

Daily I see destitution drowning to abysmal levels and am beseeched by crippled old men, wailing mothers and children with running noses asking for alms. Sitting along the footpath, at traffic signals, busy bus stops and railway stations – they are everywhere!

From start, we have been instructed to never give money to them. It seems heartless if you have not been exposed to this side of life in India. No harm in giving 10-20 rupees against the thousands that we spend on a single night out, right? Sadly, begging is now a business growing by leaps and bounds. The beggars belong to a ‘chief’ where they handover the day’s ‘earnings’ where a major chunk is retained by those ring-leaders. The sleeping baby in the women’s arms has probably been taken on ‘rent’ from the mother and drugged to keep it docile. And quite often, they consider begging an easier way to earn money than to actually work for it.

I know all this. My brain constantly reminds me of this business when faced with crying women and children begging for help. And even though I don’t hand over money, there is this tightening somewhere inside that makes it difficult to swallow and stomach the plight of these people. They may be a gang weaving a ton of sob stories to soften my heart, but there is no denying that their condition is desperate. And however cold I try to be, I simply cannot rid myself of those images.

Taking a leaf out of my friend’s book, I get children vegetable sandwiches or opened biscuit packets. Now this is where it gets interesting. While most of the kids gobble it down with genuine smiles, twice I have seen them throwing down the food and demand money. A friend got a donut from Dunkin’ Donuts and the kid gave him a priceless look of disdain. Only when he was told the price of the donut did the glee take over. So even though they lament about starvation, some only want money and have no qualms about disrespecting the food.

Which doesn’t help my feelings. It makes me question my beliefs about what is right and wrong. On one hand I find it impossible to turn my back completely, but on the other when I face them it is disheartening to see the callousness. Maybe they have accepted their state of life and will readily turn to shady businesses to earn some dough. The system isn’t really helping them so there is no reason why they should abide and play nice! I try by helping out at municipal schools and with local housekeepers; it eases the conscience to some extent at least. But…


There are thousands like me who want to try and are trying already across India and other countries as well. We force ourselves to not give in to the harsh reality but every day the cries of the streets beckon, beginning a new cycle of second-guessing. Any answers? 

Linking up with JusJoJan and the SoCS prompt ‘most/least’.

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Blackout | Empty Recess

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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!