Guria - The Misfit Girl™
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Just in Passing…
I am in Science, for those who has never been to my profile, it is my passion and profession. We, friends and colleagues in the field, talk about a lot things which sound like waffle to a few, indecipherable and boring to others, and completely an alien language to the rest of who aren’t enthusiasts.
But what really matters sometimes is what only the common man knows, meaning something that is common knowledge, irrespective of your profession.
So, there is one thing, I wondered, how many actually may know or heard of? And I thought where better to ask than this blog that has brought forth so many people from so many spheres. (Professionally though most are in computers)
So, this is what I wanted to ask…
Do you know who is Albert Einstein?
If “No”, it is okay. You may have heard of him, may not know him… it is not a crime.
If “Yes”, I need you to proceed.
Do you know what was Albert Einstein’s major contribution?
If you do, or have a vague idea or at least have an inkling, I need you for this final question :
Have you heard of S. N. Bose or Satyen Bose? Do you know who he is?
There’s no need to look for the answer. Just wanted to know whether people do know him. If you are interested, the information from Wiki can be found here. But please, if you are leaving a comment, leave it before you check the link. It will help me. Thanks a lot. (An Impromptu Just-Like-That Survey :P)
Guria 🙂
P.S. I am back! 🙂 🙂
Posted in Uncategorized
21 Comments
#3 The Meeting
Another guest post (and MM is on a roll), the third in the Series comes from a very happy-go-lucky, always smiling, very patient (with the dumb me, at least), sweet and pretty blogger (fondly called) Raji of the blog, TAKE LIFE AS IT COMES, that speaks eloquently of her optimistic ways. One of my favourites for her simplicity, and yet intricacies in her beautiful thoughts, she’s got a winner for a guest post in here, making MM a third-time lucky? This one’s a thoughtful blogger and a smiling blogger and a beautiful blogger. Thank you, girlie. Love and Hugs, G.:)
Her long black hair blew wildly in the wind. She stood waiting, wanting and willing him to arrive. Her bright blue eyes stared across the water, looking at the tall trees which seemed so small in the distance. Her long waistcoat sat heavily on her shoulders and gently brushed against her knees. Her hands strained as she held the heavy briefcase which occasionally banged on her legs; making her wince with pain.
The everlasting sound of the water gave her chills as it washed to and fro constantly; every wave getting louder; every wave getting closer. The bare trees clinging onto the last of their leaves as the harsh wind ripped them bare. The sky seemed angry as dark, heavy clouds took over.
She shuffled her feet as the small pebbles made them ache. Taking deep breaths she glanced, again, at her surroundings. For what seemed like hours, she had stood in the exact spot he had asked her to meet him. Shutting her eyes tight she wished to be somewhere else; somewhere special to her.
Opening her eyes she found herself in the same place. Tears filled her eyes as she lost herself in the memories. This was the old lake where the sun shone and where she played as a child, but now it was a forgotten place where no-one went. She couldn’t understand how something so pure could become a forgotten memory, to be filled with misery and horror.
She thought of him and what he had become; with him, her life had turned dark.
Every second more she waited seemed a lifetime. The sky began turning darker and darker as night crept upon the unsuspecting day. The sudden ‘hoot’ of an owl made her jump. Taking a long deep breath she tried to calm her nerves. Her breathing slowed but her heart carried on beating rapidly in her chest and the nagging voice in her head telling her ‘it’s the end.’
A far off sound of a car began to approach, slowly and steadily, getting ever closer. Emotions rushed around her head. Doubt and fear took over, she glanced over her right shoulder, perhaps he hadn’t seen her. Maybe she could go and he wouldn’t find out.
For a matter of minutes she debated with herself. Making up her mind she began to turn around to make a quick exit; but suddenly jolted back as he was coming and he was almost there, the sound of the water had masked the sound of the approaching car, she couldn’t go now as he would see her and follow her. She couldn’t wait; within the next few hours she’ll be at home. Some where she felt safe, unlike her current surroundings which now she felt were built for fear.
As the engine turned off, the world around shushed; as if it was listening to them. The deadly silence made her hold her breath; it was as if the forest was holding its breath alongside her. This made her nerves escalate.
The door opened; the sudden chill of the outside air sent a shiver down his spine. He stepped out slowly waiting for her to turn and greet him. In wonder he shut the door behind him and leaving it unlocked he stepped slowly but always getting ever closer to her. The sound of the pebbles crunching under his feet echoed quietly around the trees. He held his head up high; unashamed he carried on.
She knew he was walking towards her; like she was his prey and he was getting hungry. The trees were each perfectly placed, to hide them from their many towns surrounding the forest. This intimidated her as no other living being was around; they were secluded away from everyone else; carefully hidden.
Felling his presence at the side of her, she daren’t turn to face him in fear of what he might do. She could hear him breathing heavily which made her fill with regret. She continued looking across the lake, waiting for him to speak. They both stood there not sure what to say to each other.
“H…H…” he stuttered. He cleared his throat and continued bravely “Hello. Thanks. No. Er… Thank you for meeting me.” Peeling his eyes from the view, he turned to look at her forcing a smile. When his glance reached her face, her troubled eyes still stared out not noticing the view but looking deep into thought. For the next few seconds they stood frozen to the spot.
All was still until she glanced down. He watched her long black hair fall down covering her face. Secretly she wept inside thinking of the past and of what could have been today, but now all she wanted to do is get rid of the briefcase. She pulled the briefcase up which caused her extensive pain in her arms due to the numbness caused from holding it; the pain showed in her face as she scrunched up her eyes and bit her teeth together.
He reached down and took hold of the briefcase. He could feel the cold leather touch his hand. She pushed it further towards him and dropped it into his hands. The sudden unsuspecting weight of the briefcase made him fall off balance as it pulled on his arms.
Her worries were over. She stepped away from him slowly as the cramp in her legs made her feel stiff. As she walked away she could see the trees clearer now and with every step she saw a different part she hadn’t noticed on the way here.
Upon reaching the opening of the forest she heard the sound of the car engine drown out the less quiet and less intimidating noises, which had previously engulfed her in horror. The pebbles below her feet soon began to thin down, revealing a mud track below. The track was wide making a clear cut through the forest; she noticed weeds growing through and the leaves and twigs littering the track. Occasionally the wind came and threw the leaves around like they were its toy, until it left suddenly leaving them slowly dancing to the ground. She kept to the side of the track where it was worn away and a deep indent was set. Walking down the track was difficult as it was uneven and big thorn bushes grew spreading onto the track. The sound of the car got louder as she moved herself around a large thorn bush, she glanced back.
The shine of the car made it stand out from its background. The black car seemed new, almost perfect, apart from the deep scratch running straight down the front from the front windscreen to the top of the number plate. The windows were slightly blacked out; making it hard to see him. Through the window she could see him; or rather just his shadowy outline. She looked at the shadow, unknown to her they were looking into each other’s eyes.
She turned around and continued walking. She wondered why he would bring his car down the smaller path; this was made for walking, the other path was terraced and had less overgrown bushes and trees.
The sound of the car was getting louder and this signaled to her it was getting closer. She turned around and gasped loudly. Pair of bloody red eyes were staring directly towards her. Turning, she ran. The pain in her legs disappeared within a split second. The speed of the car unnerved her. She looked left and right, looking for a way out. It was a cat and mouse chase and she was the mouse. She knew already it was at least a half an hour walk to the nearest bus stop to take her to the town. A sudden realization came over her. How could she out run a car? She stopped.
She gradually turned around; it was less than three seconds before it was almost upon her. She could see him more clearly now. Tears poured down her face and the world paused as she whispered “Bye”
Black.
Forever.
…………………………
…………………………
Posted in Guest Post
22 Comments
#2 A Loser
I am supposed to write something about the next guest blogger of the Series of Guest Posts, and I don’t know what to say. My sweet ‘little’ friend, just like a sister and an enchantingly thoughtful writer, she surpasses herself everyday. I give you, Shruti of Hits and Misses, she writes to move you, completely and totally… Gave me a guest post in less than 24 hours of knocking at her Facebook door! If you don’t read her, from now on you always will. This one’s a beautiful blogger and a thoughtful blogger and a ‘tall’ blogger and a honey-sweet friend! Love you dearie! G 🙂
Hi Mom,
This is your elder son Aaryan. I hope you remember me. You may wonder what am doing. Mom, do you know anything about me? My friends tell me that ‘Mother is the only human being in this universe who nurses, pampers and supports you both in good and bad times. She is the one who showers you with unconditional love, care and affection’. I have experienced them till you gave birth to Nithin. It has been 24 years since I have experienced love, motherly love. Nithin was brilliant, fair unlike me. But he is not compassionate like me. I have been longing for your love. Dad speaks with me occasionally. But you care for Nithin always. Why mom? I have been a loser all through my life. But mom, till you showed your love, am first in everything. from sport to academics. When your love diminished my performance lessened. I faced failures. WHO WILL LIKE A LOSER?
I studied hard for all my exams and went to exam. But through my window i saw both you and dad waving to Nithin. I forgot everything I studied and wanted to hug you like Nithin. But you avoided me. Gradually Nithin studied well and got your attention. But me, on the other hand literally failed in all the subjects and became a dumb-head. WHO WILL LIKE A LOSER?
Once, I went to music classes that you organized. But later I learnt that the fees was paid only for Nithin. When I came home and asked you the reason. Mom, do you remember the reason? You said Nithin LIKED music. But you never knew, I LOVED music. Later when Nithin won a music competition, I was the no-hoper again. WHO WILL LIKE A LOSER?
Have you ever sat beside me and asked me the reasons for my worst performance in academics? I still remember the night when my XII result came. I got 74%. When dad was discussing about my higher studies, you told, “Honey, he is a loser. How much ever we spend on him, we will get disappointed. Instead if we make Nithin study MBBS he will study well and make us proud.”. Still dad persisted, “Lakshmi, we have to make Aaryan study too. We are his parents too”. A fight broke between you two and finally dad asked me to do BA in economics. I wanted to study Engineering. But I was afraid of losing the string of love you had on me. I wanted to finish the degree without arrears. But things had never fallen in its place for me. I failed again. WHO WILL LIKE A LOSER?
I was completely lost when you spoke with me face-to-face on my 22nd birthday. You told me that am a black mark to our family. You further added fuel to the fire that You are ASHAMED of being the MOTHER OF A LOSER. You finally asked me, “Aaryan, I don’t know why you are living and why God created you!”. If you had stayed there you would have heard the shattering sound of my heart. That day I decided to make you proud. I wanted to get back your love. Mom, though you love Nithin, you failed to understand that I LOVE YOU! I left house without informing you. But later learnt from my friends that you never bothered about that. Again I faced failure, this worse than everything. WHO WILL CARE FOR A LOSER?
That was the day, which turned my life upside down. I wanted to prove You, Nithin and everyone that I am not a Loser like you people think. I joined Indian Army as a Commando and rose to the post of Major. Now am Major. Major. Aaryan Bharadwaj. I am posted in, sorry, I was posted in Siachen Glaciers. You may wonder about the change of tense. Yes mom, you will be receiving this letter, the day I sacrifice my life for our country. Mom, in a few hours, they will bring in my body for performing final rites. I’ve one final wish that can be granted only by you. Mom, I don’t know whether you will cry for this LOSER, but give me a kiss in my cheek like the one you gave me before giving birth to Nithin. Mom please mom…
With hugs and Kisses to my dearest Mom,
Aaryan Bharadwaj.
Lakshmi’s hand trembled on reading this letter handed over by Commando Rajanth Singh (Aaryan’s best friend in Indian Army). When she saw her son’s body covered with the Tricolor Flag, she broke down completely. She cried so much and wanted her son to comeback alive – she realized her mistakes and understood her son’s love. But it was too late. He became a Hero for the entire country and they felt his loss. She caressed his soul-less body, kissed him and hugged him. The missed hugs and kisses were there, but Aaryan wasn’t there to embellish the moment.
WHO WON’T LIKE A HERO?
With Love,
Posted in Guest Post, People and Relationships
39 Comments
#1 The Betrayal
This is the first in the Series of the Guest Posts that are coming up. Neha is my first guest blogger, and we have a bet going on, whose details I cannot divulge but can only say, it will be the outcome of the reactions of the readers of this post, and the consequences are going to make the difference. And you know Neha, I’m going to win this one, hands down. About Neha: She is girl who tries her best to be rude but has a heart of gold, a writer who doesn’t believe she is good enough, who is insightful and a good judge (err, she is a lawyer, tho’). And most of all, she is a beautiful blogger and a sassy blogger and a great friend! Love ya, girl! G.
“Ma, I want to have curd-rice. Can you make it for me?” Shekhar asked me.
He had spoken with me after almost three months. I couldn’t hide my tears; tears I had controlled for a long time, tears that were always there, but never came out in front of my only son, who for a long time was my sole support system. My husband had died when Shekhar was three months old. I brought him up alone; fighting with loneliness, helplessness and poverty. His only goal in life was to complete his studies and start working so that I could retire at the earliest. I was the most important person for him; until Aditi entered in his life, rather, in our lives.
—xxxx—
A girl with so much of confidence, intelligence, persona and liveliness; she instantly made Shekhar fall in love with her. Shekhar now spent more time with her, coming home late and increasing my worries and loneliness. Maybe it was a mother’s possessiveness, or a jealous heart that couldn’t see her son loving another lady, or very strong instinct; I didn’t like Aditi a bit the moment I saw her. She was a pretty girl, but something about her was disturbing. I tried to convey this to Shekhar, but he was blinded by love he got from her any person would die for at his age.
The bond between Shekhar and I was not like before; for we hardly ever spoke about anything. Shekhar was enjoying the company of an equal more than this old lady who disapproved of Aditi. After showing my concern a few times, I stopped doing so with the fear of losing my son forever. To win my son back, I started pretending that I have indeed started liking Aditi after her last visit to me on my birthday.
That evening, Shekhar was very happy, as Aditi had assured him that she would soon take him to her parents. But her eyes conveyed something else; there was some kind of coldness in her eyes that Shekhar had failed to notice. Her eyes left me frightened that evening, but my fear of losing my son was much stronger than my gut feeling about another woman. Dinner that night was a very awkward affair for me, sitting in between Shekhar and Aditi; I felt like an intruder on the dinner table in my own house.
Many days passed; with no sign of any meeting happening between Shekhar and Aditi’s family. I was somewhere praying that Aditi’s family rejects Shekhar. My heart still had not accepted her; I still was not convinced about her, reasons best known to my heart.
One evening, Shekhar came home with bloodshot eyes and went to his room without talking to me. I ran behind him, but he had already shut the room door. He had inherited his father’s temper; it was best to leave him alone when he was upset or angry. A sleepless night passed by in the sitting room; waiting for him to come out to eat something or for some water; but the door remained shut.
Next morning, the morning after the next and so on, the days passed by without a single word from my son; I was dying to know the truth about what had happened to him. I thought about Aditi; maybe she was the reason behind Shekhar’s behavior. There was no way I could have found that out.
—xxxx—
I prepared the curd-rice I always made for my son whenever he was unwell. He always preferred me to feed him. I did feed him; tears couldn’t stop from my old eyes. He looked at me and told me that everything was over between him and Aditi. There was a smile playing on his lips, but he was not happy; and I did not have the guts to ask him the reason behind it. And the selfish mother was so very happy to see her son coming back in her life; and Aditi was out.
—xxxx—
One Year later:
Today is Shekhar’s first death anniversary. I still remember that day when he told me that Aditi was out of his life. I fed him with the curd-rice and he left for the office. He had given me a peck on my forehead that day before leaving. There was something strange about him; his behavior; but I had conveniently ignored it. He left that day and his dead body came back that evening.
People say that a woman is stronger than a man emotionally. But I am not proud of being strong if the meaning of it is to see my husband and son dying and asking me to fulfill their last wish – I have to lead a normal and happy life. How can it be possible if a mother discovers her son’s last letter that he left for her; but never told her what he had gone through in those three months after he had found out the naked truth about Aditi – the person he had loved more than his own mother.
Ma,
I am sorry. I have to leave you alone in this world and go. I know you are going to be all alone in this world after my death; but I don’t have any other option ma. I can’t bring myself to come to terms with this reality that Aditi betrayed me. She is already married ma, she is married to a guy who is of her father’s age. She married him for his money; and she pretended that she loved me to fulfill her other needs. She used me ma; and I thought she loved me. But I did love her, totally and truly.
I am not able to get her out of my mind. Every time I think about her – her smiling face, her voice, her eyes full of love for me – I lose myself completely. I hate this life ma, where she cannot be there. I can neither live with her nor live without her. I know you need me, but I am not as strong as you. You took the blow of father’s death; but you never had to face the betrayal. Father loved only you, he never had anybody else in his life; but the person I love, loves someone else. I cannot imagine her as someone else’s wife.
Ma, please promise me; you won’t end your life for your loser son. You won’t ever take this coward step that I have taken. Please forgive me for my shameful act.
Love you…
I wiped my tears. For me, life had brought me to the same point again. My husband who had only ever loved Prerna, committed suicide after three months of Prerna’s death, leaving me alone in this world to take care of their son. Prerna had died giving birth to my Shekhar.
And Shekhar died too; three months after he was betrayed by Aditi; leaving me alone all over again…
—xxxx—
Posted in Guest Post, Novelette, People and Relationships
39 Comments
Just…
সমুদ্রের ঢেউ যেন সে,
আছড়ে পড়ে বুকে
চ্ছিনিয়ে নেয় সকল সপ্ন
মথিযে যায় দুখে |
যায় সে হারায়-
ভাসায়ে দুকূল,
শুধু নিশানা রেখে যায়
করে প্রাণকে আকুল;
ক্ষদ্র সেই বলুকনা
যায় পাড়ে ফেলে-
তৃপ্তি বুঝি তায়ে পাও তুমি,
মনের সাথে খেলে ||
I have no idea what is the matter with me, except that I am not myself. Writing is also eluding me, and it is not a state of mind I can stand. Please pardon me for switching to my mother tongue. It is the language of my heart, the language I think in, the language I love. The font is terrible, Bengali letters are really much more beautiful, but since this was, for the time being, the only option for me, I am happy with it. I have always expressed best in Bengali. It is the most melodious language to me. Please understand that I need this for myself. I can feel the most, say the most only ever in this language. Thanks for your patience with me. You have no idea how grateful I’m to those who find time for this place. Thank you so much. Love, G.
N.B. To my Bengali readers, there are some spelling mistakes, but this was what I could do best in the software I used, I don’t think there will be any problem understanding the real words/meanings. G.
ADDENDUM :
A very poor translation, but a translation in essence. Of the piece above.
ADDENDUM :
A very poor translation, but a translation in essence. Of the piece above.
Like a wave of the sea
It crashes on the heart,
Snatches away dreams
And smoulders it in hurt.
Away it goes, lost-
Drowning its shores,
Just a trace remains
Making the heart mourn;
The tiny sprinkle of sand
Left on the coasts-
Your salvation it seems
Is in playing with thy soul.
~~~
Posted in Calcutta and Bengali, Catharsis, Creations, Heart, Nature
19 Comments
Handing Over the Pen…
I am good! I mean, there’s little chance of being otherwise when you are the only contender in the category! But still, I have been led to believe I am good. No, you have no part in the deception, but then one can rarely deceive with the truth. So I have laid down the groundwork that I am good. No lurking doubts, uncertainties in your sweet little creaking, almost-regularly oiled brain? Great! Then allow me to introduce to a handful of ladies who are even better!
Nopes, I am not bluffing… there are actually women/girls better than the marvellous-me. Oh, they may disagree, they know how to be modest. Some may agree, those are my competitor for the Sarcasm-Queen crown. But all of them are just are flabbergasting, splendid, unbelievable and simply striking! And for the next few days, they hold the pen, figuratively of course, to my page!
These amazing ladies, few you already know, and few you may not, have actually agreed to bestow my blog with their esteemed presence and essence (I’m still the reigning Butter Quuen… Amul should ask me to endorse them)!!
For all those crackpots who cannot do without me writing (does that species really exist?!!), do not mourn, there are awesome posts coming up. And after the blogger-writers have had enough with the madness here, they will be found at their respective blogs, with me functional back here. And then, don’t you dare forsake this place for theirs.
Enough advertising?? Have I?? I think I went off a tangent somewhere back there. (I’m sure people will be thinking, “what the heck?!!” at what I have been spouting off my mouth, and whether it is advisable to return)
This was meant to be kind of an introductory post. A few posts that will follow will be guest posts by brilliant bloggers, all women! No specific topic, just them, a sparkle of their personalties reflecting off this blog’s page… each one writing on their own, and out of generosity and may I add, love for this poor blogger.
So for the next few posts, it will be my saviours, the beautiful ladies, seasoned bloggers and of course, my friends reigning in here. The floor is all theirs. Ain’t I lucky?!!
So for the next few posts, it will be my saviours, the beautiful ladies, seasoned bloggers and of course, my friends reigning in here. The floor is all theirs. Ain’t I lucky?!!

P.S. I assure you I tried to keep this as short as possible, but I had to write this as the nonsense refused to be contained. And then you won’t have to put with me much, as I make way for the girls. G. 🙂
Is it my imagination or am I upholding deterioration with every post??? 😦
Posted in Bloggers, Guest Post
8 Comments
Naked Truth?
No one cares. No one gives a damn. You die, you live, who cares? People are already fighting for space to live, air to breathe, resources to exploit. One down and your chances become so much better. Back-stabbing, double-crossing, double standards, you think that’s bad? Well, you are gullible, you were foolish, how is that anyone else’s fault? Hah! Those things do get the job done, don’t they? The virtuous you, the conscientious you, the principled you… and where are you, when I am cruising along ahead in life? Values and Principles, you say, painstakingly taught? Replaced and replaced well. For the better, oh yes, much, much better! And I am running ahead in the rat-race. Deception, lies, hypocrisy. Oh, I don’t like them either, abhor them in fact, but they do serve your purpose. Everything has a price and if I can find it, success, money is mine. and that’s all that matters. When I have everything, you have only your values, and not a thing more. And that’s all that matters. I’m great when you are not.
[A lesson tried hard to be taught to the idealist me, while subjecting me to it]
N.B. Remembering while laughing. After all, he who laughs last, keeps laughing…. Yup, I’m still the idealist me. Happily.
Posted in Philosophy, Sarcasm
22 Comments
55-Fiction #3
I am not much fond of 55-fiction as it limits my scope and truthfully, I’m not good at it. This 55-er that you are about to read was not written as a 55 but coincidentally became one. It is very different from the usual reads, and doesn’t follow any of the rules except it is of 55 words (exactly). Bharathi’s posts about questioning were an inspiration for the idea. And as the header goes, you understand that this is a question. A profound one. Of practises, of beliefs, of faith and of misuse.
Religion?
“Mercy!”, he screamed. “Mercy! Mercy!”
With a silver knife, he slashed his hands, his feet as he screamed. The bloodied whip lay at his feet, its evidence prominent in the glittering red tracks it had left on his back!
“Penance! I’m paying my penance!! Penance for my birth!” He screamed on.
The altar stared, unmoved.

Posted in 55-fiction, Creations
20 Comments
The Multi-Talented Maverick!!!
This is not much of a news, but I cannot write anything. And this affects me very much! Writing is a passion that either burns the paper, scorch marks all over or else, burns me….
To put it simply, I write to stay sane. So I’m inviting anyone who happens to read this post, please if you are leaving a comment, leave a topic, not too difficult (you wouldn’t torture the poor me, would you?)
Hopefully, I should get enough topics to last me at least a few weeks. So please help!!
Hopefully, I should get enough topics to last me at least a few weeks. So please help!!
Now there is one more passion I have something I could have been good at, if I had something like I have weblog for my writing. And I am not being modest! As those who know well the Blogger-me, they know that I may be the Sarcasm Queen or even the Butter Queen, but no one has ever called me Modesty anything! (about the first two epithets, those who don’t know, trust me you don’t want to know either)
So to continue what I was saying, there is one thing I do, on and off, sadly like my writing of the pre-Maverick Misfit-period (sounds like Stone Age), it greatly depends on my mood! And my mood strikes about once in six months (in a manner of speaking) and lasts at least the whole day when I may forget even to eat (I usually try not to forgo other, ahem, sensitive chores). So you may already know the writer, and heard about me as the almost-scientist, now, may I introduce you to the crazy artist.
Sketching and Painting are my other passion. Probably the first thing I knew I can do. Sometimes I feel more alive creating than doing anything else in this world! How I wish I would be more diligent at it.
So here are a few sketches I have done. I completely owe this idea of showcasing my drawings on my blog to Avada Kedavra, an amazing artist herself.
Here goes!
Here goes!
These are three portraits I sketched. Rather than scanning them I used a camera to take the pictures, the white of the paper is a bit off. But I think you get the essence. All the three took only a few hours each, though I spent a lot of time doing the first one’s curls. The last one, that of a cobbler toiling, is my favourite. Maybe some other time I will also post a few of my paintings; the mediums are usually pastel or water or oil.
Do tell me how you like these.
And I will be waiting for those topics-to-write-on suggestions.
P.S. I am calling myself Maverick for a change ’cause a few people actually think of me as such rather than the usual Misfit. Though, honestly, I love both 😉 G.:)
Posted in Creations, Sketches
43 Comments
Another Perspective: If I were A Baby Again…
Memories, they say, never fade. Oh, they are hidden, hidden under layers after layers of what the layman calls experience, and we call them new nodes of new memories. But they are all there, hiding somewhere beneath all those heaps of the every day, of the new, breathing only in the most remote subconscious, in the finer recesses of a human brain….
There are thoughts, and there are thoughts…. they say memories can be short term, long term, cognitive, spatial, explicit, implicit… there are so many secrets in that head…. And I wonder whether we know our own mind at the end of the day…. do we really know what we know??? Do we really forget what we think is forgotten? Can a brain forget unconditional love, happiness?? Does a heart??
Who knows… Science doesn’t…. Not yet.
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Just Another Insignificant day…
I entered my dark apartment, groped for the light, hit the switch, kept my bag and threw open my boots. I went and sprawled out in the rocking chair besides the veranda, overlooking the sea from 30 stories high, one of the best and most expensive views in the city. But who wanted to see that!
It was almost midnight.
As of yesterday, my wife has left me. I say, it’s good riddance. She wasn’t worthy of me anyway. But it means I have to check whether the fridge is stocked or not. I don’t want to go out to buy food now.
But I didn’t get up. I felt so tired, and somehow it felt so unrelated to the gruelling day at work. Why does sometimes even everything seem to be nothing, absolutely nothing?
I laid back my head on the head rest, closed my eyes, and gave over to a compelling moment of self-pity.
I tried to remember the last time I had slowed down and looked around me. The last time when I wasn’t a participant in the everlasting race. When there was something to life, more than just money, power and success. The last time was happy. The last time some one had loved me. Just me. Without all the trappings.
I couldn’t. I pressed my eyelids harder, clenched my fists and thought even harder. There must be something. Anything. I sifted through the memories, pulling and prodding at whatever wisps I could grasp, clutching at every errant thought…. But there wasn’t to be. Nothing. Zilch.
Just… One single wayward thought… Just a shadowy breath of something close, something mine, yet… forgotten. A happy place? Something lurking, just beyond my grasp. An elusive sense of conviction. A thought of a warm, familiar pair of arms, holding me to a beating heart, a faint murmur of jingling bangles and a faraway tinkling, sweet laughter, igniting an undefined, alien peace deep within me. And a soft, crooning… lullaby?!!
Just… One single wayward thought… Just a shadowy breath of something close, something mine, yet… forgotten. A happy place? Something lurking, just beyond my grasp. An elusive sense of conviction. A thought of a warm, familiar pair of arms, holding me to a beating heart, a faint murmur of jingling bangles and a faraway tinkling, sweet laughter, igniting an undefined, alien peace deep within me. And a soft, crooning… lullaby?!!
My eyes snapped open. My heart was thumping arrhythmically. It felt as if I had been running these last few moments…
A derisive laugh escaped my lips. My overworked brain, jilted sour-grapes attitude and an over-active imagination was playing tricks as usual… planting false memories! I chortled, but I willed myself to stop thinking.
I got up with a sigh, and went to fix something to eat, while thinking about the upcoming presentation at office.
But somehow I couldn’t shake off that feeling of deja vu…
The resonance of that joyous laughter…
Why did I feel like I have lost something?
P.S. This is was first written as a tired entry for Blog-a-Ton 4, when something better came along, thanks to Neha. This one is a very non-specific, complex array of an emotional turmoil in a mind. Do share your thoughts on this one, too. G.:)
Posted in Creations, Novelette, People and Relationships
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