Because silver linings are a myth..

There are times when you feel like it’s going to explode. What why where how… You can never explain even to yourself. It’s like there is a volcano in your own head. Something that is always bubbling, but staying down because you are holding your breath. You are at the pinnacle of an emotional upheaval and suddenly it all bursts..
I am a harbinger of extremes, even those who love me often call me a drama queen. But they forget that my extreme is the reason I am the way I am. My beliefs are black and white but my perceptions are grey. My judgements maybe black and white but my intuition is made of greys. More often than not I am articulate, but when it comes to speaking my heart out – all the articulate sensibilities fail me.
I am tired and exhausted of the efforts one puts in fitting in. I want to just not have to fit into a mould of what someone wants to believe I am. Most of our lives we go without really knowing what we want.. What we would do… How we behave.. What is it that we believe.. We are colored by opinions and by expectations. Because we believe that people are our silver linings… But silver linings are just a myth. Only you can be the anchor of your soul, your grief, your joy and your fear. So in the good bad and the ugly.. Anchor yourself to the shore of your belief and have faith when you say to yourself – this too shall pass.

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Thank You Mom- For courage

Dear Mom,

Today I stood and talked to a few friends about why it is ok to stay quiet when another person is fighting. I spoke of how its unfair and all I heard was it is situational. And I remembered to Thank you for courage. I remembered to thank you because I never did for giving me the fearlessness I carry. I stood there and in my head thought how easy it is to discuss another’s pain.

I remembered how once as we travelled as kids in a bus, you stood and fought with some men who were harassing a woman travelling alone. I remember you had my little brother and me along. But what you cared about was the respect of another woman. I remember how you screamed at random men who harassed you or other women.

And I was always proud, proud of being your daughter. Proud of being with you and safe. I grew up without fear. I grew up to be one of those forward women who create an ‘issue’ about ‘small’ things. Those women that fight and scream and yell when they are harassed or harass another. I don’t often tell you mom, but I have had my moments of hell. When I have been asked for ‘my rate’ in a crowd or been called lewd names. And every time I turn around and glare thinking of what you would have done.

I wish there were more mothers like you Mom. I hear the fear in you now. I know you worry that I fight too much, or stretch it too far. I know you were not worried till I was closer to you mom. But I hear the fear in your voice now when I say I stood up for what’s right. Maybe when I have a daughter I will know your fears better. I just hope I can set the examples you set, so that my daughter will not stand quietly aside while others fought. I wish there were more mothers like you mom, then maybe more would have stood up for the right and not been bystanders of injustice.

I am scared mom, of being a woman sometimes, always thinking twice about what is right to wear, how must a girl behave, or whether I will be groped or not. But I still stand up and will always. Because my mom taught me too.

I wish there were more mothers like you. Then may be just may be two boys would have been alive.

Love,

Neha

lonely not alone

I keep wondering if people really know what it means to be lonely in a crowd, but most of us are at most points. There is this nagging feeling when people get married, that you are alone.
I was always the girl that dreamt of commitment and marriage! The girl who believed in the institution of marriage. But I think I have moved on from there too. Sometimes there is a setback that ruffles the entire being of your existence.
I think my existence has been ruffled.

Backwards

Its when you are at the worst of your expectations of self that you know that you are still moving backwards,or at least trying to. Its difficult to not do that more often than not. But you need to, stop moving backwards. Its like everything passes you. Would you do it the same way over again in a breath.
That’s a difficult call, there are bits and pieces you would want to re work always. Relive some, erase some completely from every shard of memory. And this is where you realise it doesn’t matter at all. Not even a bit! And it should not be the trend of life to move backwards.
Its the ahead that matter, each done day should be trashed. Like the gmail trash button. Because that’s when you stop pondering dissecting and altering in your mind.
So today I make up my mind, cliched but true, live each day like its the end of your life and start one like its the first ever!

For the love of Romance

And I thought it would stay the same always, between us. Me wanting him, and the still distance. It was always for me the question of living up to him. Living up to what he would expect. The anger at his neglect, the long conversations, the never had dates, the hope that I fit in with those that are his. Always the fear that I am not grown up enough or intriguing enough. But somehow there was never jealousy. He mentioned once how he expects a woman to twitch. I always knew if he smiled about it, I wouldn’t dream of twitching.

But now that it’s time to let him go, maybe I am twitching. I don’t know if it’s ok or if it is supposed to be. But maybe, just maybe this is how it’s meant to be. I always loved Neruda, he talks about unrequited love being more beautiful somewhere. There is still that book he owes me. He is the whole concept of romance in my head. Always was. Everything outside what I could reach. I wanted to be mysterious, mature, happy and exciting. I have always said that women are different with men they want to be attractive to and a lot of those who know me say I never am. Somehow, I was always different with him, around him. I wanted to be better. I learnt long ago its a part of adoring someone.

I remember all the conversations, every single one. About the women he loved, and the women he found attractive and even those he did not care about. About the writers that inspired him, the minds that excited him. But there was always the one clause, never uncovering it. I am superstitious, those I love most I keep at the most distance.  Isn’t it often said that distance makes the heart grow fonder. But distance also assures me that I will keep him closer.  It’s easier always. Always. He was always the pinnacle of my concept of romance. What pains you is the loss of what you might have deserved. The loss of what you never deserved deserts your capacity to think, it strips you of the hope that someday you will bridge those waters. And that is why I always kept the distance. It is easy to discuss life and love but how do you talk about something you understand but don’t comprehend.

I remember he said once, maybe some other time and in some other space we would have been different. It was always extreme emotions with him. Always will be. Extreme anger, extreme love and then somehow thinking he was indifferent to it all. And now its like a funny realisation of the truth that he really was more than an arms stretch away even when I could feel his breath on my cheeks.

You are the extreme of my romance, the being of the chasm between simple love and the conspiracy that romance is. Always were always will be. And I hope someday I can explain better.