Conquered in Style

FEBRUARY 7TH, 2018: WEDNESDAY

 The scorching heat of the afternoon sun cut through our skins. There was no sign of a breeze. The sky looked blue and radiant. I was fortunate to catch the sun after quite a long time. I spent the last two weeks indoors, my deteriorating health and my idle brain kept me company. Lost in my own thoughts, I meandered into the maze of narrow pathways leading to one of the most visited spots in the University – ‘High Rocks’. A set of mountainous rocks that needed strength, effort, courage and patience to be conquered.

 That afternoon, post a scrumptious meal, we set out. We decided to spend our time fruitfully, against getting cooped in hostel rooms, lazing around and dreading the class that is scheduled in the evening. Driving away every ounce of lethargy, we went ahead to hike nearly 2.4kms. Lugging with bags and cameras, I realized how unprepared, I was for this impromptu hike that we embarked upon. One of the downside of not staying in hostels nagged at the back of mind, yet again! I am hardly ever prepared for a spontaneous trip. This time the red flag was my foot wear. Unlike, proper hiking/walking boots, I was in casual slippers and ended up climbing barefoot for most part of the time.

 Fifteen minutes into our adventure, we ended upon an open land of pastures. Something clicked in the back of my mind. It was an open space that looked beautiful and calm. There was a sense of unknown tranquility I found within myself. I stopped feeling things for a bit. I did not know what I was looking at, but I remember staring into the abyss, to make sense of things that were haywire in the last few days. I stood observing the little brook that flowed from beside my legs. The gushing water looked clean with little grass pricks growing on its side. I enjoyed the interior monologue that occurred within me. Now, more than ever, I wanted to keep walking and never stop.

Thrown back into reality, I was distressed. I wanted to stay in the virtual world I created for myself in the last few minutes. I wanted to hear the gurgling sounds of the little brook for forever, I wanted to walk around in the open pastures that seemed never-ending, and I wanted to listen to my heart, loud and clear. Given the narrow path, we ended up walking in single-files each immersed in their own string of thoughts. One with the camera, capturing the beauty of our little adventure, the other climbing quicker than the rest. Another walking all by herself, and another scrounging for easier paths to climb. What a troupe we were! Walking alone to succeed together!

Given my attempts at immunity building in the last few days, I was immensely satisfied with myself. I definitely did not give up on the idea like I did a few times earlier. I was not panting and neither was I gripped with the fear of failure. Climbing that rock was a major success to me. It was definitely a step higher than my previous attempts. It did not come easy, but it did all come in good time. With a few hurls and pushes from my friend, I did reach the top, the beautiful part of the trip. And my word, I stayed there in silence looking at the magnificent view that it beholds. Breathless, in a literal sense and staring in awe, I looked at the rapid urbanization that occurred towards the left, and the canopy of trees on the right. I saw bigger rocks etched with names of lovers. I could visualize merry groups that danced around bonfires, and some aggressive adults that smashed liquor bottles to the ground. I noticed broken slippers and sloppy garments buried under gigantic rocks. The place reeked of urine and bird droppings. I settled down on the edge of the rock and hung my legs down.

 Things just made sense. I had longed for this silent joy for a few days now. I was engulfed with a rush of emotion that I can’t till date fathom. It was happiness of a different kind. The last time I felt it was three years ago, when I was fastened by a rope and left in the middle of a river. It was fear combined with excitement washed down by a trickle of happiness, infused with large amounts of control.


We sat there for nearly an hour. Some breeze, the earth, sky and I.
 A quadruplet that I wish to be a part of again and again and again.

Twenty days after, the image is still vivid. What would I have not given to stop time right there? What would I have not given to re-clock the afternoon. The first memory of the place is pure. That day, I vowed, I want to come back and etch myself into the visuals of someone else.

Ethical Perplexities!

Lolling under the dark skies counting the birds that queued up on the electric wire above my head, I began to think in ways I have never thought before. All the conspicuous errors in judgement and the moral high ground that I assumed I always adopted came back rushing to me. Sometimes, simple discussions can trigger a whirlwind of emotions and today, for me it was so much more than that.

It was a demolition of my ideologies, of my practices, of my beliefs and almost everything I perceived to be right. Do I have the courage it takes to make an ethical decision when I am presented with one? Do I have what it takes to be honest? I couldn't help but sit down and pen these thoughts that have been playing around in my head since a one hour lecture on ethical decision making. Coming to think of it, I cannot think of the last ethical decision i made and I am appalled by the fact that I haven't taken the time to sit and pursue the consequences of decisions I have taken.

Am I supposed to feel bad? Am I supposed to be feeling guilty for not experiencing a sense of ownership for a few decisions I have taken?

I am filled with questions that I cannot seem to find answers anywhere and while I have taken counsel and received advice to look within myself, it doesn't seem to work.

All I can account for right now is a sense of guilt for the times I wasn't ethical and for the times I remained a mere observer of several unethical practices.

In fact, do all humans have unbiased ethical radar in their heads and does it work?

If it does, why are there corrupt journalists, why are there incompetent medical practitioners and why are there leaders that can neither lead nor be led. 

If this is the up side of having developing a radar of right and wrong, I'd rather not. While I do understand that it's gruelling to create a black & white picture of all circumstances, I'd like to know that I have a blue or a red or a green side to fall back upon without experiencing culpability of any kind. 

Today, I have been presented with cases and instances where integrity and honesty and accountability were all abstaining from situations that should have been led by them.

At such a time, do I need a self-check?  When the world is now a mere comedy of errors, is it still worth bringing out the ethical practices that we buried deep within us ages ago. 

While, I am still wondering if I should open the Pandora's box that I believe is inherent within me or just cross the river when it comes, I've decided to now settle for another class on community media. Funny, how some discourses can get you thinking! Like never before!

Happinest!

The room looked just as I love it. Dark, clean and with things exactly the way I left them in the morning. I could see my favourite chair in its place and my charger lying on the bed. I noticed the empty glass of water resting on the table. The image from the portrait smiled at me. The bed was neat and the blankets folded, just as I liked. The room emanated fragrance in a way I can’t describe. It was the smell of home; the smell that tells me I am at a place where my heart belongs. The sea-green walls gave me comfort. The curtains flew as if to show they were happy to have me back. The clock that stopped working two days ago caught my attention and the calendar had to be changed. The cupboards stared at me. The marbled floor shone. Sun light protruded through the slight opening in the window. I noticed the scattered particles of dust that sat on the top most almarah and sighed like I do every day. The fact that I don’t find time to dust it off surprised me, like every day.

I call this room my cave, a place where I can sit for hours doing absolutely nothing and still feel contented. The room that saw me grow and the walls that know all my secrets. The books that I love adorn the biggest shelf and my portraits the other. What will I not give to stay here forever? Through the years, I could never fathom my obsession with the four walls. Why is it that I lose all boundaries and go into thinking sprees that I usually cannot enter elsewhere? What is it that happens to me when I enter this particular room? Is it just a feeling of comfort or is it all in my head? Do the colours make my mind think or do the experiences within these four walls ring a bell?

Is it me or is it you too? Do you have places that haunt you, places that make you think?  Amidst the baffling activities each day and all the untold stories, I find keen audience in the inanimate room that I obsess about. I guess, the silence here allows me to think in a way I want to and helps me shatter the boundaries I have set for myself. Like no other part of the house, my room makes me feel at home. Situated right in the middle of the house, it makes me feel authoritative allowing me to supervise. The fact that nobody can walk in without being seen by me, the fact that no snacks can be secretly sneaked in and the fact that the kitchen is hardly ten steps away might be a very good reason I am obsessed.

It’s been 11 years we had moved into the house and since then I have been trying to come up with a logical explanation as to why this room is dear to me. I am pretty sure it’s not because I sleep there or because my things are in there, because if that's case, my things are found in every room of the house. There is a reason I can’t come up with or maybe there isn’t a reason at all. If I know that someone else feels the same too, I’ll know it has to do with the connection one shares.

My room gives me ideas to write but also leaves me tongue tied with the inability to write. Just as I was wondering about how long to put up with this bout, I pulled out my book of ideas from beneath the bed. With a million thoughts wandering in my head, with uncountable sentences I wrote and stopped mid-way and re-calling all the suggestions I heard, I stared at the half written words and sentences in my book. Today, I decided to tie them all in a loop and write whatever comes to my head. And, I am glad I did it. After nearly a three month hiatus, it gives me joy to fill a page and flip it to the next. I don’t know where all these words disappeared for so long, maybe all the therapy I needed was to talk to someone about it and get down to work.

I sat down beside the rectangular window, pushing aside the curtains and allowing the sunlight stream in abundance. My eyes scanned across the bright room, giving me just the exact push I needed.

What a room did, nothing else could!

What keeps you going?

That evening small silvery drizzles of rain drops drifted downwards shining bright under the setting sun. The backdrop of the orange skies and the pack of birds flying home were too good to be missed. The sun and the clouds appeared and disappeared looking like a pair of shenanigans amusing their scattered viewers. Like never before, the sky had me hooked and I almost believed god used his precious magic talisman for me.

Sitting by the window sill that evening, I dug out the oldest of my albums and the books I saved from school and college. From the corner of my eye, I could see my mother’s silent yet highly exasperated sigh. She was used to these sudden bouts of love for my souvenirs. I beamed at all the last page drawings and those little paper notes I passed to my friends. I smiled at all the scribblings and the spelling mistakes and I must say I was amazed at the neatness of my books. I was proudly appreciating my legible handwriting.

I was living two worlds. As a part of the world outside the window and another that was entirely in my control, the one I could momentarily pause and resume according to my whims and fancies. I was gushing at my simultaneous yet dual presence. With a lot of time to kill and perfect setting for a sugary turnover, I used my age old technique of closing my eyes and uttering the word “Remember” thrice. To the ones that haven’t tried this out, do it and tell me if you aren’t drowned by a flood of memories and instances and everything that your mind will throw your way. Tell me if you don’t recollect the things you didn’t know you remembered and tell me if this doesn’t excite you. Sitting and scouring through everything I thought was important at an entirely different phase in my life, I was thrilled and ecstatic. Seeing stuff from my past was almost like seeing a growth graph of myself. I was my own doppelganger. An entirely different person with different interests and way too different priorities. I remember taking oaths and making promises on the last day of my school, promise to keep in touch with all 150 students of my batch and promises to pursue anything that excites even the slightest of my entrails and promises to always stand for what I believe in. Somewhere along the line, I sadly lost track of it all. One by one I let go of everything that I once decided to keep close. Not that I am disappointed with myself right now, but I think it is safe to say that the person I was,  blindly charged into the unknown and the person I was knew me inside out.

Having completed my under graduation is like the end of yet another phase, more precisely the end of an era, an era that helped me discover so much about the world and as well as myself. Only I remember the initial anxieties three years ago and only I remember the parting anxieties three months ago.  Almost involuntarily my hands moved towards the carton labelled “Mary’s” and I couldn’t help smiling at the first thing I picked up: Our group picture from one of our excursions. Almost instantly, I felt a rush of panic within me. A panic that realisation struck.  I did not know if I was too scared to accept the big incoming change or was I just profoundly stuck to the past just because it made me feel safe and comfortable.

Who else feels the same? Is there anybody else that just dwells in the past way too much or is it just me? Do those souvenirs hold importance to you all too? That evening, I began thinking. Thinking on all lines and through all contexts. Wondering If I was foolish for not being able to see the beauty within the present. And today, as I sat down to write everything that has been pounding on the walls of my brain, I realise I am once again writing about the past, an instance that made me happy, that made me calm and that made me nostalgic. Now I have just given up entirely on wondering along these lines. And I have to mention, that this person I am becoming is a consequence of all those broken promises, of all those carefully thought out decisions instead of blindly going forward and this person is most importantly a consequence of the sudden bout of recollections, because I know what keeps me going and I don’t think I am giving it up any time soon.  Tell me what keeps you up and about?

Why am I here and not somewhere else?

“Dreams are dime a dozen, it is their execution that matters!”

That one particular quote plays a very significant role in my life. I remember this being told by my mother a million times, I remember this being on one of the walls of my house and I remember this being an opening line to one of my school speeches. As a kid, I never understood what it meant, I did not even attempt at deducing what it held, so much as to have taken the first line of my speech. I was told dreams matter, dreams count and dreams are what that keeps you going. At that time, those were just a collection of sentences that went from above my head.

Today after about 10 years, during a lazy summer vacation I cannot help but think about everything I was taught and told as a kid. Today, I do not have the slightest idea about tomorrow; I do not know how I am going to handle anything that life throws at me. All I can say, is I am blindly plunging headlong into what seems like a dark cave. Amidst all the myriad thoughts I seem to be having, I began to wonder what I could have done differently, what should I have chosen otherwise and where should I have been, if not here. While those questions are excellent food for thought, I also came to a very sad realisation. I am 20 years old and I haven’t seen most of the things I dreamt to see by now. I am 20 years old and I haven’t done quite a lot of things I dreamt of doing. I am 20 years old and I haven’t met a lot of people I imagined meeting. By all this I do not mean impromptu road trips or parties for I can safely say, I do not have an ounce of regret in that area.

To the one that is reading this, close your eyes and imagine the top three important decisions that you have taken. Now imagine the consequences had you chosen the other option. To me, the mere fact that one decision can steer my life in a completely different direction scares me almost all the time. I am always wondering why I am here and not somewhere else? Do not get me wrong, this is not because I am unhappy with the life I am leading now. This is solely because I am curious to find out what it is like if I belonged to a different culture, what it is like if I belonged to a different race and what it is like if I belonged to a different gender. The nuances differ in all of these and I can’t begin to describe my anxiety in realising if I am ever going to experience all of it. My deepest fear is not that I am inadequate; my deepest fear is that I am powerful beyond measure.

The quote that I began my article with is a one that is close to my heart. When I heard it for the first time, in a different time frame, in a different set up, with a different perspective altogether, I was under the blatant impression that dreams were the easiest thing an individual can possess. Honestly, I am under the same mind frame right now, but what changed is the extent of my dreams. At 7, a new bicycle was a dream. At 9, locking the top bolt of the bathroom door all by my self was a dream and at 13, skipping milk was a dream. Today, I dream of surviving alone in a foreign land. I dream of a bigger house. I dream of more enriching relationships and I dream of more money. I am more than excited to take on the next phase and I cannot wait to see how it is going to turn out. I am excited to see if the dreams that are taking shape in my head will ever take place in reality and I am equally petrified to find out if they are going to be and do any good. 

Who knows, if tomorrow exists?

“Do I matter?”

 “Am I loved by my friends and family?”

“Who are those that care for me? Genuinely care for me?”

                                             

After a two day marathon of a TV series - 13 reasons why, that I am now wholly addicted to; I cannot seem to get these life-altering questions out of my head. While the entire story revolves around the suicide of a high school girl and some audio tapes that she passes around to the 13 people responsible for her death, I cannot elude the idea and the thoughts of every individual that has intentionally or unintentionally cast a shadow on my life. I cannot seem to wrap my head around the fact that everyone smiling on the outside isn’t doing so on the inside.

As I sit down to pour my heart out after nearly a week’s internal dilemma, I feel a knot in my stomach. I remember the gut-wrenching pain I recall feeling each time I was even close to turning into a ‘Hannah Baker’. I think it is safe to say that I didn’t have an easy teenage, but none of us do and I am very well aware of that fact! When I say this, I do not mean I was a victim of bullying or any kind of abuse. I do not mean I had an estranged family or a friend circle in shackles. I was not in the constant grip of my parents and neither was I a part of a bad school. I think I am trying to say that I did face a lot of confusion and something beyond that , that even today I cannot fathom and put in words. I did have an excellent clique throughout my school and college days and that is one thing I wouldn’t substitute in a sane mind. After continuous attempts and efforts at trying to name the one thing that I feel has bothered me over the years, I am still at block one today. However, upon having decided to write this article, I can feel a sense of content that has taken over my heart and my deepest entrails seem to be calm.

Before beginning to write today, I spent nearly 20 minutes nibbling at the back of my pen with no idea on how to begin. I do not know if I should blame that on my very long hiatus from writing or the myriad thoughts drifting in my head. When I decided I shall put down everything that I can think of, I began with the three thoughts that are right at the brim of my head. I am starting to wonder the genuineness of the times people say they like me. I wonder if I matter at all, and if I matter enough. Because right now, today at this moment, I am looking for proof, I am looking for action and I am looking for effort. I am tired of hoping, I am tired of guessing and I am just tired of filling my head with thoughts that I do not know are facts or myths. Borrowing Mr. Tharoor’s dictionary, let me say I am drowning in a farrago of unreal beliefs, impractical expectations and I am surrounded with a group of people, amongst whom I do not know who I can fall back upon.

To anybody reading this ready to build an answer or a comment around independence or not bothering about the people around me, I have to stop you there! Do not tell me to be independent for I am, do not tell me to be strong for I am more than you can imagine and do not tell me to stop worrying about the people around me because it doesn’t work that way! Maybe for you it does, but I am tired of hearing them. For the ones who know me, you will also know I am so much more than all those mentioned above.

Today, unfortunately I am in a place where I am just wondering and counting the people that actually know me inside out. I am grateful for a group of friends that have dragged me out of my worst phases and sadder than ever, I am ashamed to say that this group of friends has fallen down to two of them. In the 15+ years of my schooling and college, I have been friendly with a lot of people without the slightest clue about the vibe I have given, yet today as I look back our bonds have broken and I feel mean each time, I don’t return calls/texts. No, I am not sad. I am not depressed. I am not disappointed. I am just feeling a mixture of shock and amusement at what I have become. From a friendly girl to someone I do not recognise, I feel sorry for all the hurtful things I might have said. Life is uncertain and it works in mysterious ways.

Although, deep down I knew I was all of the above and I knew what I was turning into, I guess I was just adamant to come to terms with it. The last time a TV show triggered an outpour was when Hodor was killed mercilessly. 13 reasons why has given me a new perspective towards life. I now realise the impact a single word might have and I now understand the need to value relationships and more importantly each day in your life.

For who knows, what’s in store for tomorrow?

For who knows, if tomorrow exists at all?

                                                                                                                  Meghana. Lanka

Montage 2017 : Celebrating Student Shots!

Apart from the day I celebrate my birthday, January 6^th  is one of the days I look forward to and is quite a special day to me. With three close friends of mine celebrating their birthdays on the same day, 2017 gave me another reason to remember the 6^th of Jan, each year!

Montage 2017: Celebrating Student Shots, my college’s first student short film festival hosted by the batch of 2014-2017. It sure is a moment of pride to dwell in the idea that we have started a trend and a chain that will only get bigger year after year. It is rightly said, Inspiration can come from anywhere, I don’t know what good the Goa tour I took last month with my group of friends has done to me, other than giving us the chance to experience the fun and the thrill of a film festival. Films and movies have never been my forte or my area of interest, but the only reason that excited me to do something this huge in a time frame so little was the fact that it involved ‘people’.

I, as a person enjoy working with huge groups of people, and the idea of a short film festival just highlighted the biggest prospect it had: Team effort.  Although, having studied for three years in the same class, I unfortunately couldn’t build a bond with most of my classmates. I never found the time to sit and have a decent conversation, other than while having to prepare for exams, ‘coz notes are something just one among the 80 of us had. But, more importantly I was a lot more involved in my own clique, than I should have been!

The idea to actively take part in this Short Film Festival is a decision I really take pride for. It’s just one of those feelings and moments of realization, that no matter what, this show would’ve been a huge success, but to be a part of it and to reminisce over every learning curve and every never ending discussion is just a beautiful feeling, and something I would have definitely felt sorry for having missed.   

Sometimes, risks give the biggest high I don’t know if that is true and I don’t know if beginning to prepare for a national level event just one month prior to the big day counts as a risk. For us, especially for me, it was the most exciting thing I have done in the last couple of months. Right when I was feeling a lack of excitement and a drop in my spirit, Montage came disguised in jubilance. From designing banners to writing content, from chart work to shopping, from sending over invites to inviting chief guests, from convincing people to register to social media promotion, I have never seen my class unite and set everything in place.

With two wonderful teachers who stood by us, giving us the liberty to experience and experiment and giving us the freedom to take decisions, I have never felt more responsible. The biggest learning that Montage has given me is to take ownership and I can bet that is was the best way to learn it. January 6, 2017 was the big day. Mistakes did happen, there was chaos, little confusions and so many more, but to wash that all down, we worked as one big team, each one taking responsibility for everything they could, each one rising to the occasion and each one putting their best foot forward.

The Girl gang!

I have actually spoken to people, I never did in three years and now I can say I have a good lot of friends with whom I have memories and who mean something to me. I can look back and smile at all the little inside jokes we had and the samosas and teas we shared. Of course, nothing, nothing at all beats the rush of excitement and happiness at the end of the event. It was overwhelming to imagine the success of an event I took way too seriously and personally, and I can’t thank my friends and my teachers enough for letting me be a part of this grand show.

With hectic preparations since a month, tons of decisions, thousands of phone calls and so many WhatsApp groups, I don’t know if I will be able to cope with the sudden monotonous and uninspiring days ahead of me. Again, inspiration can come from anywhere and I am on the lookout!

One month into 2017, and I can already feel a sense of satisfaction and happiness. I am almost positive 2017 is going to be a great year!