Author: absinraw

  • WHO IS THE ARTIST?

    WHO IS THE ARTIST?

    If people are blank canvas, their life journey is their artistic masterpiece under work. The relations they cater to, are the strokes of different, but unique vibrant colors which brings depth and perspective to the masterpiece. These strokes sometimes cross path, overlap each other, turning into an entirely different color altogether. Sometimes they barely brush by, or end up at the opposite ends of the canvas. The importance of these strokes however cannot be compared.

    Remember, people are the canvas, not the artist themselves. They are bound to find themselves lost in this chaotic collision of colors. Trying to pick up and identify which color belonged to whom, what was this colour again, how did this color even originate. The canvas would never be able to view and apprehend the beauty it holds inside, but only feel the torment and anguish of the jumbled up mess it thinks it represents, feeling animosity against the artist. Who is it though, the one who made the strokes? God? Fate? Karma?

    The only people who can visualize and appreciate the masterpiece you hold inside, are either the other canvas, or the artist themselves.

    Be the artist yourself.

  • OFF-LIMITS

    OFF-LIMITS

    Life is full of lessons. Sometimes harder than digesting iron nails, but lessons nonetheless. One of those lessons, stop trusting God. I am not against the fundamental concept of God, however, after witnessing everything around, I believe God does exist, but only as a watcher. He has no desire to meddle in our lives and just observes us, studying us. The Creator has made His creations and now just wants to see how they unfurl over the course of time. I believed in karma. What you sow, so shall you reap. Unlike any other faith one holds, which includes blindly entrusting the power of your fate to a divine existence, sometimes it turns almost impossible to balance the equation as to what is being reaped and when did I sow it. Still, I somehow tried to forcefully make sense out of everything happening around, as the life dragged on a day to day basis survival.

    However, some situations are just plain outrageous which makes you question everything.

    Today when I woke up, as a daily ritual, the first thing I looked out for was my mobile phone. Unsurprisingly it was switched off, as it was not left with much juice since last night. When I plugged the charger and switched the phone on, I was amazed to see one of the rarest things my eyes ever witness – a Whatsapp message by Papa. I immediately opened the phone only to find a pretty crisp and formal sounding message, “Good Morning. Your number is not responding. Call me whenever you see this message.” I did expect his message to be of similar tone, but it still did not give any clue regarding what it could possibly be about. I mean it sounded pretty… monotonous. It was hard to figure out what could be the possible reason behind Papa trying to call me before (that was when I looked at the time) 9:30 in the morning. The message showed the timestamp of around 8:30 A.M. which meant he probably tried calling me even before that. Something was important. So I decided to call him at that time itself. Just before I was going to make the call, my phone received three SMS, regarding the calls missed during the time mobile was switched off. All were from Papa and the time they showed was… around 5:30 in the morning. Now I was sure that it was something very important, but I could still not feel a sense of urgency till then. I mean, yes I still made the call immediately, but I was mentally ready to handle whatever the situation was. Papa picked up the phone in two rings and I asked, “Papa I just saw your message.”
    “You woke up?”
    “Ya, just now.”
    “Okay.. Listen.. our house has been broken into. There were three people. Your mother is brave. She was a bit injured by them.”

    I did hear silently what followed, but my brain did not register anything. I think Papa mentioned about the cash, jewellery they took. When there was no response from me, he calmly said, “Mom is fine. Your uncle and aunt have reached there. The police investigation is in progress. So, what could have happened, has already happened. Try not to get into panic mode.” His voice was as plain as the tone of the Whatsapp message he sent. And as his son, I was very well aware regarding how calm he would actually be. He wanted me to be calm so he conveyed the entire thing as calmly as possible. Now it was my turn to respond calmly so that he could maintain his calm knowing that I was calm. He said he would be reaching home next morning and asked me to take care. The next thing I was doing, checking the first flight back home.

    It takes 1.5 hours to reach home by flight and the earliest possible flight was at night. Thankfully, I got the reservation on a train scheduled to leave Delhi in the next 2 hours. And thus began the 10 hours long journey back to Maa, which led me to play every single possibility of how things could have gone wrong. How we all are scattered and we could not even be there for each other at moment’s notice when needed. How helpless I am, yet again.

    When I finally reached home and saw Maa, she looked back at me in a way which made me shiver. It felt as if she did not expect that she would be able to see me again. Though she said she wasn’t afraid, she admitted that at one point of time during the incident she had made her peace with it. She told me in detail about how the events turned out. How one of the thieves carried a sickle and also threatened about having a gun. How one of them was touching her feet for forgiveness after the other hit her twice with something that made a resounding metallic ‘thud’ sound at impact. How she knew that the third blow would be her last, but thanks to God it never came. How the two blows nearly missed her left eye by a few centimetres. How she was quite calm the entire time, even at the time when she called Papa to tell him about it, which clarified how Papa was able to be calm about it.

    What was the lesson in this situation? What Karma created this shitstorm? What the hell was God doing in case I am wrong about Him? If I am right about Him, He’s a sadistic piece of shit. I should thank Him that the third blow never came? How about crucifying Him for this entire situation to happen in the first place? I never had much trust in the Almighty’s way of running things down, but what in the world was Karma doing? Jerking around?

    I am deeply aware that there is a positive spin to it, an optimistic takeaway. I am not interested. I am not buying this entire hidden lesson, everything happens for good bullshit, as far as my family is concerned. Some lines are not to be crossed. I think the actual lesson I take away from this incident is that I hope the guy who hit Mom avoids getting caught for his own sake. Otherwise one of the Almighty Creator’s creation would be using a thick iron rod filling in for karma, for meticulously breaking every single bone in his limbs. Then let him recuperate and heal completely, even pay for his medication. Then do it all over again and leave him on his own.

    I feel myself in a very precarious position lately, with or without these obtuse lessons of life, still holding tight somehow. But something like this is not supposed to be on the cards. The family is strictly off-limits. I hope this message is clearly conveyed to the upper echelons of the department dealing with the dealings of His Holiness and the strings of Karma.

  • “याद तो तुम्हें मेरी आती ही होगी” – Poem

    “याद तो तुम्हें मेरी आती ही होगी” – Poem

    झुठलाना मत
    याद तो तुम्हें मेरी आती ही होगी।

    घाट की आड़ में जब चाँद चुप छुपता रहा,
    तारों की चादर से लिपटी नींद भी जाती रही,
    तुम थीं, मैं था, रात थी खामोशी के संग साथ में,
    लफ़्ज़ों का क्या काम था जब सांसों के संग सांस थी।

    कदमों का रुख उस डगर हो
    जब टिमटिमाती रात में,
    झुठलाना मत
    याद तो तुम्हें मेरी आती ही होगी।

    वो समंदर का किनारा रेत के टीले तले,
    और तुम्हारी अंगड़ाइयाँ उस तपन की छाँव में,
    शाम का मंजर सुहाना, रात बारिश की हुई,
    हम वहीं के रह गए वहीं, तेरे तकिये के सिरे।

    गर कभी सपनों में अचानक
    फिर मेरा दीदार हो,
    झुठलाना मत
    याद तो तुम्हें मेरी आती ही होगी।

    कहने को छोटी उमर थी इस सफर की पर मगर
    दम उड़ानों की नीयत में वक्त से आगे की थी,
    ज़िंदा है अब भी चिंगारी, फिर भले ही खुद जले
    आग अब भी है कि जलता ज़िन्दगी भर दिल रहे।

    तुमसे शुबहा ना शिकायत
    मैं ही ज़िम्मेदार हूँ,
    मगर झुठलाना मत
    याद तो तुम्हें मेरी आती ही होगी।

    लिखने का कुछ शौक सा था, कुछ अनकही अनसुनी,
    अब है लत, ये हाथ स्याही की तलब के मारे हैं,
    रोज़ का इनका मचलना, रोज़ उपज एक नज़्म की
    ना मायने अदब-ओ-ज़बान के, हर किस्से कहानी तुम्हारे हैं।

    माना तुम हो दूर इतनी
    मुझसे कोई नाता नहीं,
    झुठला दो फिर भी इस झूठ को
    क्योंकि याद तो तुम्हें मेरी आती ही होगी।

  • WHY FEMINISM IS CALLED FEMINISM

    WHY FEMINISM IS CALLED FEMINISM

    I used to think that maybe if the word was not Feminism itself, people would have had a more open mind towards accepting the idea or to understand the concept of it. My thought was based on the thought process that Feminism has been derived from Feminine, which is originated from Female.

    Recently, while watching Game of Thrones, Season 7 Episode 4, when Daenerys enters the battle field mounting her dragon, I was in awe with the strong female presence this character shows, influencing the entire battle. I was thinking how just a few scenes ago she showed her feminine side while discussing Grey Worm with Missandei. When it suddenly hit me, that she, a female has both the qualities, masculine and feminine. Duh!

    The word male has been derived from the Old French word masle. Female, on the other hand, has been derived from the Old French word femelle and Latin slang femela. If some people still say that female is derived from the word male, I would like to see Female as an attempt to reinforce Male with an additional layer of emotionally galvanized Fe(Iron) 😉

    Since these words came into existence, strength, toughness, hardness etc. which have been seen as insignia of males, are identified as masculine. Whereas fluidity, beauty, intricacy, and qualities which have been labelled as an insignia of females are identified as feminine. The qualities were labelled as per to where they thought were more prominent.

    Times change, definition change, we change.

    Still, feminine is originated from the word female, yes. Which means the qualities more associated with females are called feminine, is true. But given the categories of quality divided into masculine and feminine, equality aligns more with femininity, as compared to masculinity which would align more to maybe domination, or to a scenario like law of the jungle.

    That makes more sense when we ask ourselves why the equality of both genders is called Feminism and not anything else.

    Capiché?

  • AM I DEPRESSED?

    There is a voice inside which usually never interfered with the way how I lived my life. However, recently the conflict between us has increased a lot. The issues are not too outrageous, just contemplations regarding mental health. We have often started having these debates whether this phenomenon called “depression” could be an actual possibility.

    My life is the same. My boons are the same. My demons are the same. Nothing has actually changed, only shifted shape to alter their appearance. My family is amazing, could not have asked for more. They are my invisible source of absolute strength. They are my roots, which build that sense of security and warmth which always remind you that you have a place to return to. But they don’t know me. Not all of it. Not this side of it. It is not that I am keeping something away from them or hiding it. But I do not know if apart from getting worried about me, me talking to them would bring something better to us. They who live miles away would just be worried day-night about something even I am not sure of.

    Maybe close proximity would have sorted that out, but I have friends for it. They are there. To hang out with. To laugh with. To watch movies with. To share with. To discuss with. Yes, there is a close proximity, but it is a more physical than a mental thing. These emotions are turning out to be much more complex, complicated and deceiving than I originally thought them to be. And as luck favours the might of the strong, mine certainly has a foot hanging in its grave.

    Also, the situation I am in is nothing new. What I feel inside and what I feel outside has been kept separately for a long time and now comes as natural to me as breathing. Afterall, this is not the first time I have been in a shitty phase. Rather, I move to greener pastures just to change the scenery and return back to my deadbeat situation as fast I could. That is my modus operandi. That is the way I roll. So this situation feels as comfortable as home to me. The feelings though are somewhat different. Actually, of indifference. Nothing affects me. It seems like the reservoir of feelings which used to overflow earlier has been dried up and only the cracked up soil at the base of it could be seen being eroded every now and then, which does not emulate even a single sigh.

    My appetite has affected. I have been lazy, still, I can sense that my drive has been affected. I never knew my destination, but lost wasn’t the word I would have ever thought of associating myself with. My life feels broken into fragments. I truly feel like an autumn leaf, plucked and blown away by a dry wind on a whim, who itself is now disinterested in me and my future. So am I.

    The only reason I have not been captured by any vice is maybe that my will to control the way I live is too adamant. Anything which could make me end up in a situation where I don’t know what I am doing, or rather I am not in total control of what I am doing, scares the hell out of me. I did not have had any suicidal thoughts but did wonder a lot if physical pain counters this numbness, or if people would give a shit if I died and to what extent. Will they feel any emotion towards it, like of a loss? Or will it be one of those situations where you feel shocked, wondering how they seemed perfectly alright whenever you met and this was such a stupid step at their end, labelling them pansy or coward?

    Maybe it is not only me. Maybe we all are forgetting how to emote because we have limited our emotions to a few generic emoticons we use. We are being emotionally imbalanced due to pouring down of our emotions into limited predefined moulds. Our body does not know what to do if we accidentally tap on to a more complex emotion, than those the moulds of which we have. Or maybe have willingly discarded it as it rarely seems of any practical use today, like empathy.

    However, it still is not clear to me if I am going through depression, even though online tests have labelled me with ultimate depression. What I feel though is a loneliness which cannot be filled by anyone or anything. And the last thread which saved me from this gaping hole till now seemed like a sliver of hope has been identified for what it truly was. Mirage.

    I am truly okay with it. At least I know its true value, so I would not dream of selling it for the riches. The voice keeps me an okay company, so it is not that alone. To the fellows riding the same ship, not knowing what you are living for does not mean not living at all. What it means is a puzzle. I will let you know if I solve it.