Thursday, February 18, 2016

My time to suck.


What to write?

I am at this moment making an effort to create a blog post, and it’s solely because I just saw the trailer of AT2UI and I feel fucking motivated to do something mega awesome with this life in this world. Like I’m literally imagining myself being looked up by so many fan faces who adore my beautiful writings and fuck knows, even my videos. Who knows what I can achieve. Although I do feel I’m a better writer now after reading all those books. No I didn’t read any guide to become a good writer. They were just a couple self help books and a couple mythologies and one physics classic that I believe is a real philosophical piece of art created by a genius who had a lot of time to properly observe the universe. No really. He did have a lot of time because he’s Stephen Hawkins. If you don’t know who he is then go make you dumbass look it up on Google, while I let myself feel proud of finishing and actually understanding a book written by Stephen fucking Hawkins. What? It’s a big deal for me. Got a problem? Keep it to yourself.

So I started off with reading the UNLEARN 101 by humble the poet because I admire Humble’s writing and speaking style so much i thought I could learn a lot of things from him. By reading a book, you get to spend time with the author’s mind, you sit and listen to what he says and you make yourself think the way he thinks and you are introduced to the way he sees the world. What can be a better way to learn from someone than actually diving into that person’s brain? Moreover I was also moved by a new realization that I cannot be a good writer unless I’m a good reader. And to become a good reader I had to look away from all the shitty blogs I was surrounded with. And I admit I haven’t read my own writings since then. They’re a pain to read. Seriously. You’re better off without checking out my other blog posts down below. But it’s your call. Maybe you’ll like them. To think about it, people did actually like them when I started writing. Well either way it turned out that I really did learn a lot from Humble. And then I wanted to find more creators like him and man, did we find some awesome dudes. To this date, Mark Manson, Humble the Poet, Devdutt Pattanaik and Stephen Hawkins make up my list of the most admired writers. I know my list is missing a lot of writers that would probably be way better but you see, along with being an amateur writer I am also an amateur reader. I’m a young pirate in this huge sea. I’m a rookie and these are pretty much all the creators I have taken inspiration from. Of course as I continue on this amazing journey of reading and writing I will get to expand my mind and come across a lot of people who will give me mindgasms. But I’m amazed to see how an amateur writer like me can create such a fine piece of work. I guess I’m a quick learner. Ha Ha kidding I’m just motivated. I can’t even say I don’t give a monkey about the haters who’ll comment shit on my blog, because I don’t have a readership to begin with. Ha ha I just embarrassed myself. It’s normal. People do that when they’re alone. They talk funny to themselves and they laugh it off and they don’t realize, but it helps them maintain their sanity. Imagine you no more have the ability to speak freely when you’re alone. Even when nobody’s around, you still have to keep that happy cheerful and socially acceptable face on. How would you like that?

I’m not going to explain how, but this shows that people tend to be much truer to themselves when they’re alone. Speaking of! I’m about to arrive at a very special point that I intend to make by writing this post. Not having to write anything in such a long time and being practically at bottom of bottoms in the blog pond, I’m going to take this opportunity to create shit. It’s my time to suck. Because one thing that I learned from Lilly Singh and one thing that is tattooed on the walls of my heart is that if I’m ever going to become an awesome writer, it is only going to be by creating shit over shit with faith and consistence, till I start shitting gold. It’s my pretty way of saying “fail till I succeed”. Now I love you if you get my point and if you even decided to read this article and made it here till the end of this post. No seriously. I love you. No that’s not a proposal you dumbass I’m just letting you know that I love you. You can fuck off now. Don’t you have anything better to do?

Wednesday, October 14, 2015

The Thoughts of a Fresher

"Sometimes I wish to meet people who don't have to worry about staying competent, people who don't have to think about keeping up with all the current affairs and know all the stuff about their country's economy to keep feeling like a deserving citizen. Sometimes I wish I was surrounded by people who don't always lay so much importance on having a safe and secure lifestyle or people who don't worry about maintaining their worth in the market. Sometimes I want to be around people who just talk art and appreciate love and tattoos and people who appreciate creativity in any form; people who appreciate having a good time over competition. 
I don't want to train my mind to work like a guy who's gonna crack all the competitive exams or someone who knows everything about his field of education. I believe that their are people out their who don't need to differentiate between their work life and their household; people who don't have to have professions other than their hobbies. 
I'm no black sheep. I don't want to be an agitator or go against everything these people do or say or tell me to do. I don't want to be an outlaw or a fucking revolutionist. I just want to be happy and make people happy. I want to do cool stuff and have fun and I want to be with like minded people. I want to have a mind that is not restricted by boundaries and stupid ideologies. I want to fail and learn and achieve and do phenomenal things. I want to fly and ride and make friends and share. I want to be looked up by someone."


"I think I should complete today's target first."

Monday, August 31, 2015

Story of an overprotected child.

‘I cannot have short hair as it gives me an uncivilized look. So are all the boys uncivilized?’ she speaks to herself with an expressionless face, barely controlling tears that are about to roll down.
‘I cannot ride a bike, it’s dangerous.  I shouldn’t stay out after 6:30, it gets dark. I shouldn’t have friends outside my classroom, they cannot be trusted. I shouldn’t practice martial arts as I can get hurt. Public transport for college is a really bad idea, it’s tiring and uncomfortable. I shouldn’t be friends with boys. I cannot be seen using my phone twice or thrice a day. English movies or any movies at all induce dirty, vulgar, obscene, inappropriate conduct in me. Running or extensive workouts will make me tired so I should totally avoid it. Tattoos are indecent and cause skin infection. I cannot make trips alone or with my friends. I cannot spend a night outside my home. I should always maintain a low profile in college. I shouldn’t even bother facing challenges; they do nothing but develop my personality. I should probably quit dreaming about someday getting to enjoy adventure sports as they are of no use to decent and civilized people like us. I’m obliged to dedicate myself to my studies and ultimately settle at home with a respected job. If I don’t do so, I can never live with a head held high.’ Her eyes are already wet and the list goes on without an end. Though, these words are contradicting with her personality. The most important thing to this lady is stepping out of her comfort zone and never ever has she known how to give up. But when it comes to her overprotective dad, she doesn’t know how to even fight.

“I want to challenge the ways of the society and make people think that why they do what they do, so that their actions are not driven by fear but are driven by a will to see the results.” She reads her diary and tries to remember when she wrote these lines. It’s been a frequent practice for her to sit alone and think about what she was, what she wants to be, what she is right now and what’s stopping her.  Only this time she wanders about an extra thing she wishes to have; it’s her dad’s support.
For a long time she’s been trying to make her dad understand that she’s no more a child who needs to be told what to do and what not to do. If only her dad knew her better, he would have known what her daughter is capable of. She believes that there is a point in parenthood when you have to stop being a guardian and start being a friend.  Trying to make her dad believe the same thing, she desperately tries to open up his mind every now and then. Only now she’s doubtful if she still has a long way ahead or she’s just on the wrong path.

“I’m sorry dad for last night that you had to shout at me. Though you were the one shouting and screaming, I was the one being accused of arrogance. I know I could hurt my hand but that wasn’t the thing going through my mind at that moment. I just wanted to do the opposite of what you were telling me to. Even I hate myself for this but I’m helpless. I want you to please read everything patiently before jumping to any conclusions. I’m only writing this to you because I cannot tell you everything on your face.”  She goes on writing in her diary.

“The thing is that I always feel that you pointlessly try to control me without any valid reason. This isn’t just about last night, I have been thinking about this for a long time (a couple of years to be specific). It’s a very difficult task for me to open up to you like this but somehow I feel that I’ll be relieved if you just know what’s going on in my head. I know you’d be angry but trust me, I have been angrier. I don’t think being scared of you will help me nor do me any good. All I want is a healthy father and daughter relationship after all. I know we do not share a healthy bond between us and you know it too. Lately, I have been feeling that you never actually supported me for anything. Sure, you supported me financially and gave me all the facilities I need. So many times you and mum stayed awake so I could sleep. So many times you stepped outside your comfort zone to protect your family, to make sure we were fine. You truly loved us and cared for us. All I have ever been is a disappointment though; you still always managed to show me that you love me. I’m grateful to you. But I believe there are reasons for me being like this” as the page comes to an end, she takes a pause.

The main motive for writing these few pages to her dad is to break the walls of his mind by letting him know what he never knew about her. He’ll be 60 years old in the next 5 years. He has technically seen the world change around him; obviously it’s not going to be easy to break the wall that took 55 years to build. She takes a deep breath and continues writing. “Ever since I started going to school I used to be a scared and depressed kid sitting in corner of the class, always afraid to get along with people and I always found it so hard to talk to someone. I never actually enjoyed being a part of the group. I always wished if I could be the center of attraction but I never knew how to do it. I never had a friend to talk to and never had somebody to eat lunch with. I used to walk from one block to another in recess, pretending to be busy so that no one thinks I’m alone. For eight long yeas I did that. Even in the sports period I would be the last person for someone to take me on their team. I always felt rejected. I never had any special skill and I never took part in any co curricular activity. I bet nobody even cared if I was there. All of this used to create a mental pressure because of which I couldn’t study hard enough. My marks kept dropping consistently and eventually I failed in class 11th. Out of all that negativity I started to grow up a little bit. When we changed school, I made a few friends and shared a deep bond with them. I used to solve their problems; everyone came to seek my advice when they didn’t know what to do. I saved a lot of friendships and I even helped a lot of people with their family issues.  Even though I had friends, I was still depressed. That said, it’s no surprise I had to work the hell out of me to even concentrate on the studies. Eventually I passed 12th but I wish I had someone to tell me it’s OK. I wish you would have been there to understand all of this and tell me how to get over my negativity and choose my career wisely. But don’t worry about that now. Failures don’t scare me anymore. I know how to talk to people and become friends with a stranger and how to judge if a person is genuine or not. I matured a lot since then.”
She knew what her problem was. She was never actually good at anything. All she wanted to do was to find something that she’s good at, excel in that thing and earn everyone’s interest and even make her dad proud. The only thing she could be good at was arts (which weren’t her subject). She still very foolishly chose engineering just as every other brainless zombie passing out from school does; without giving a single care about doing what they actually like. It’s just a career choice right? What’s the big fuzz about it anyway? It’s not like your happiness depends on it. Well she found out just that. Yet she smiles because choosing to become an engineer was the best wrong decision she ever took. And the selection of the engineering college was the second best. Gurgaon College of Engineering (GCE) was a little different than the conventional colleges that pop up in the head when someone thinks about engineering. Comparing GCE with the other colleges was like comparing an insignificant 10-mm gravel stone with, well, the earth. FYI, that gravel was somewhere in the middle of Haryana surrounded by farm fields and a state highway that lacked public transport.
“I’m glad that I went to GCE.” She writes. “Had I been in any other institute, I would have become an alcoholic by now.”
“The college was a totally new world for me. In the beginning, teachers speaking Haryanvi was a big deal for me but after these 4 years, I wouldn’t be much bothered if a robot kills a man and runs away with his wife singing Punjabi folk songs. I’ve seen a lot in these 4 years. I’ve seen kids getting beaten up by gangs, I’ve had people shot in front of me, I even got to know that a girl was raped where I used to sit and study. I’ve seen police manhandling students. I’ve seen students beating up teachers and smashing windows. I’ve seen a man’s head run over by a truck on highway. I’ve had a friend die in the campus itself. I rode 80 km on the scooter on the examination day and traveled in Haryana roadways from gurgaon to maruti kunj on the same day just to complete my syllabus for the exam next morning. I’ve driven so many times on the highway I probably have more driving experience than you. I’ve seen my friend’s parents having extra marital affairs and what not. I’ve seen a lot of good things too. I’ve seen a homeless guy feeding a cow even when he didn’t have anything to wear in the month of February. I once saved a blind owl from traffic in the middle of a highway. I even know how to get along with dogs. They never bite me; even cats. I’ve seen a jaatt resolving a fight. So many times I’ve worked so hard for so long and whenever I’m close to giving up I just reach the goal. It always feels good.” Writing the last line she remembers how her dad always insists on keeping her in the comforts and how he totally disregards the fact that hard work and training are important not just in the office but in every aspect of life. She feels disgusted when she remembers her dad telling her to always choose the path of minimum risk. What she has inside her right now is a burning rage and desire to show her dad that she’s a person who has surpassed her previous generations long ago and is on her way to create her own legacy. Although she acknowledges the seeds of negativity and self doubt that had been sowed by her dad, she isn’t ready to give up yet.  With an open heart she continues writing.. 

“I’ve also been to a lot of places where you would have never allowed me to go. I’ve tried a lot of things too. I tired alcohol a few times, cigarettes, and i even smoked weed a few times. I’m glad i had an open mind for everything because of the people i met and i also came to conclusions that all of this stuff is actually very harmful and that meditation, hard work and physical training are the only thing that can lead to peace of mind. I explored a lot of things about Hindu mythology as well. I also believe that Ramayana and Mahabharata never actually happened physically but instead these tales try to impact the society in a positive way. For example, the stories of Krishna being black and radha being white helps counter racism and discrimination based on color. These tales also help us understand our own mind. They explain how every human creates his own imagined version of the world which leads to the concept that every human is therefore Brahma, creator of his own aham; we knot our imagination with fear to create aham and how the two tools, tapasya and yagya can help us unknot the mind, outgrow fear and discover atma, i.e. our true self. I came to believe that physical and mental training along with meditation can help us achieve the state of fully expanded mind called brahmaan. I also learned how a broad mind does not fear death or seek validation and witnesses the world as it is; and how the atma is shiv who performs tapasya, and is self contained and self sufficient; and how the atma is also Vishnu who performs yagya to nourish everyone even though he himself needs no nourishment. I have studied western philosophy and Chinese philosophy and a few parts of Buddhism; they all tell the same thing. This is why i always feel the need to justify stepping out of my comfort. This is why i want to struggle and always choose the rough path. This is why i want to go through hard physical training because i believe that if i adapt to the tough surroundings, i will become strong and wise. This is human nature. The human body and mind adapts to whatever it goes through consistently. And this is why i always feel bad and angry whenever you force me to stay inside my comfort zone. Even dayanand had to leave his home to find the truth. I wish I had your emotional support in everything I wanted to do. But I don’t remember ever being motivated by you for something special. Dad, I want you to know me, to understand me. I can’t take it anymore. I need you to know that i am a grown person. I still have to learn a lot of things but i really wish if u could respect me and my decisions. I want to be a good daughter to you but I’m getting really discouraged.  All i want to do with my life is learn, and never get old. I always want to keep an open mind towards new things and i don’t want to have a closed mind that rejects anything contradicting with the already existing mentality. I want to do something that I’m good at and make that my career.  But i want to do everything with your acceptance. I don’t want to lie anymore.”

As she finishes writing a tear drop falls on the last word of the page. She notices the time in the clock. It’s 2 am and everyone in the house is fast asleep. Her mind wanders off again in the depth of questions she keeps asking herself. ‘Why do I have to get the water bottle, charger, everything I need before setting on my table? So that I don’t have to get out of my room before everyone falls asleep? Why do I feel more comfortable when nobodies around? Why can’t I go out and sit with them? Why can’t I stand listening to them? Why do I need to claim my own space separated from the rest of the house?’ but all the commotion in her head finally comes to rest when sleep takes over and she dozes off on the table itself.

Next morning she feels a hand on her head. It’s her dad gently waking her up, ignoring the “POTENTIAL CAUSE OF A HEART ATTACK” lying open in front of him. This isn’t something she didn’t expect. She knows her dad never shows any curiosity in her writings so she doesn’t worry about it. But she has already decided that breakfast table is going to be where she drops the bomb.
As the time comes, everything goes according to the routine; mom in the kitchen; dad on the table with a news paper; brother roaming around the house like a hungover homeless guy with his eyes half closed. She’s all ready to leave for the class. Nervous, anxious, yet determined, she puts her diary in front of her dad. Her dad stares at it and then at her with a questioning gaze in his eyes and she says with a trembling voice ‘I need you to read these pages’ as she opens it up and drags it towards him. Her dad knows it’s an unusual thing happening. He picks the diary, adjusts his glasses and starts reading. 5 minutes gone he’s still reading quietly and the situation has captured the attention of her mom who already has an idea of what’s going down. She knows that the diary is not less than a knife and making her dad read all this is nothing less than stabbing his mind. The diary is definitely going to be blood stained after everything’s over.

Eventually her dad finishes reading and keeps the diary on the table with a calm and blank look on his face. That look is familiar. She knows he’s probably trying to make out some sense out of everything he read. As soon as she realizes she isn’t ready for whatever bullshit her dad is going to throw at her, frightened, she picks up the weapon of mass destruction and rushes out of the house, starts the activa and rides off to a place where she can sit alone and lay out her further plans.
20 minutes later she’s at her regular place and her mind wanders off to the time where she’ll remember how she sat in the Starbucks cafe, sipping her coffee, staring out of the window as the blood stained knife lay next to her handbag, covered with her blue silk scarf. Slowly as the fear fades away, she feels her wings growing bigger and wider and she feels more determined to become something. She may fight with her dad and she may make him face some harsh realities but she knows that she’s not leaving his side. It’s for the betterment of their relationship after all. She loves him and to protect that love is the only purpose of this fight. So she smiles and prepares herself to face him again.




Monday, January 26, 2015

How not to hurt someone who trusts you.

If only I could show a little more respect.. A few days ago I was all ready to do whatever I like and don’t give a fuck about people getting hurt. I have been a person who gets hurt and I also have been a person who hurts. I thought I've had pretty much all the experience I need to go around judging people like anything. What I forgot was that my original motive was to learn, and how could I take anything in if I'm always boasting about my own blocked minded attitude?
“A thick skin not only blocks out hate but also blocks out love”
The world is going to make you develop a thick skin but it’s a stronger heart that you really need. A heart that not only knows when and how to be right but also has the courage to do the right thing. You’re always going to have to push yourself. You cannot expect your heart to grow strong if you won’t push it for choosing what is right on what is easy. It's easy to go with the flow right ?  I've dealt with so many rocks that I forgot how to treat a flower. It was too late before I realized I just crushed one, and I saw my transition from being a victim to an asshole. This is what happens. There's a time when you're the victim and as you grow strong to face the shit and when you start to set the agenda, somebody else becomes your victim. This isn't what I wished for.

Shit can happen to anyone. It may happen or may have happened to you too. Don’t let that change the way you love and the way you win hearts and the way you earn somebody’s trust. It’s a well known fact that your happiness depends on the number of fucks given by you. Less the fucks you give, happier you will be. But the lesser known and even more important fact is, that if the amount of fucks given by you drops to zero, you turn into a grumpy old fart. You have to take care of people who love you for who you are. I know that because I juts lost my biggest supporter. I wasn't thinking straight. Sometimes things maybe unpleasant but you have to snap out of all the confusions and know what’s right and what’s not.



I just had one heck of a let down, but I'm grateful that I learned something. I still may not know what i really am, but i now know what I'm not! And If i get a chance, I'll use all of my will to make things right again, and give them what they actually deserve. I hope you keep learning too. keep loving.

Saturday, January 17, 2015

Conciousness And Originality

Hey.. So I'm here reading my old stuff and I find something interesting I once wrote. I pick up a pen, a paper and start writing again, editing the same stuff and adding something new to it. what I get is a bunch merged up weedy thoughts that might make a publishable post. but I don't think people would appreciate it so it all ends up as a draft. then a pretty little girl comes along and reads it and loves it, making me think that why do I need an approval at the first place? lets make mistakes right ?? the thinking turtle says "write or I'll shit on you!" so here goes..

It starts with a question. What is my originality? There was a time when I felt distant from everything. I used to have this strange feeling than anything and everything going through my mind is inessential. I grew emotionless, unable to feel the importance of anything. My body, my goals, my family, my past, my present, none of it seemed to effect me. That was a trip. I used to be curious about a particular field of knowledge though.

Everything I feel, every thought I have, every move I make, all my reactions to each and every event, is absorbed from what has been around me. What is my original self then - was the question I used to ask myself again and again. I felt that I'm not on my own, which was the most bothering thought to be as I've always preferred to be on my own. But why am I - was a new question. Why the eff was I brought into existence? Because my parents wanted a child, which in turn would have been a result of a chain of events, each serving the purpose of the former event. And maybe that's what the eternal knot shows. Everything is connected.

That was the time when i didn't feel the importance of anything and just looked at my body as a vessel that contains me. I had this moment when I felt my presence aside my conciseness. And that was something I can not explain. More I try to explain it, more I see me losing the authenticity of that moment. Don't know what exactly was it but it triggered me to write this post, and again to ask myself the question "what is my originality". Everything I am is made up of what is around me, what i absorbed since the start of my existence. I am because of the existence around me and the world is the display of my conciseness. That's where I tripped.

" the world around me is the display of my conciseness" does that mean the world could be an illusion?

I am able to understand that I am not a pure individual form,  being a part of this world and the existence as a whole. Still among other individuals, I have my own individuality, which does depend on the presence of others. I can not realise my individuality of I'm not surrounded by others. It's like the yin and yang. I am a drop in the ocean, not alone. The souls, the ancestors, the minds are present and working along with me to guide me as I develop a vision.

I am the master of the universe, but that universe is just my own. My own perception, that defines my guilt and my satisfaction. In the same universe though, there are other minds with dissimilar perception and hence, different worlds. So me being the master of my own universe does not serve the fact that everything else is not real, which means that you as my reader are as real as my own conciousness and you sharing this post will do me as real good as somebody making me feel loved. feel me? So make me feel loved will you.