Yes, I Exist!

After a long time, I am feeling my existence. Was I living? Yes. Was it a life? No. A life to me is not mere living. Even a virus lives in a way or another. To me, a life is a life when one can unfurl ones real self without any inhibitions. So yes, I left behind many masks, including one of fear behind me. Happy to get back myself, my life.
Though I accept that I won’t be doing much of blogging, I will be there with my writings at other platforms which I would keep updating on this blog. Thanks for reading.

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Monsoon 2014

Monsoon clouds hanging over without rain in Jharkhand. Photo by Mou Mishra

Monsoon clouds devoid of rain in Jharkhand. Photo by Mou Mishra

Crying out the earth for a drop that is hanging over its mouth, alluring but, not falling over it. Intrigued? Well this year is not a good year at least from the point of views of millions of farmers and a billion dependent on them for their food supply in India. National cumulative average of rainfall for the month of June is 42% deficient making it as one of twelve rare instances in past 113 years when national cumulative average for rainfall has gone deficit by more than 30% for the month of June in India. Situation is worse in arid states like Rajasthan and Gujarat where average rainfall for the month of June is deficit by more than 80%. The only relief that one can expect right now is the forecast that predicts revival of rain after 5th July but, till then it seems to be all clouds shooting fire instead of rain.

Colours lost in shadow

Colours: green, yellow, maroon, red, blue or any other, choose one. No matter whatever you choose, you’ll get a colour. A colour that can define sense and sensibilities, really? Is the life seen by you monochrome? Or multi-coloured? Or multi-turned-mono? Call it whatever you like, it will remain whatever I want. And what I want is none of your business” roared a voice out of infinity, from an infinite black sieve with countless, gazillions of sparkling golden dots.

It was mid-night, Srijan felt a sudden craving for a choco bar. He opened his refrigerator and gorged upon the bar there, like a hungry pregnant tigress. He was a man but, strangely of late, he was witnessing the rise of his feminine side. Someone in him told that he was pregnant and was carrying the offspring of unknown voice that roared daily in his dreams. He’d would often wonder how their kid would look like, half wave-half human or full wave or full human or something strange and wonderful that he never witnessed in his life. Would the kid take birth in a particular colour? Why the unknown voice asked him to choose colour and suddenly declared his choice as vain?

Days turned into weeks and weeks into month, he would watch shadow of his tummy daily on wall in order to mark any change in it. Sometimes his tummy looked huge but, his butt was equally bulging out as his tummy. Expanding tummy made sense to him but, expanding butt? Why was his butt getting enlarged?

One day, while he was inspecting his shadow, an unusual event happened. His butt in shadow started inflating as if someone started blowing up a hidden balloon there. He glanced and touched his physical butt which was completely normal and was not having any physical expansion but, why the hell his butt in shadow was expanding? He rushed to a large mirror, it too showed a butt that was calm, cold, still and deflated. He concluded that his growing offspring was visible only in shadows. While he was still in thoughts, his shadow butt kept on inflating. His shadow butt became so inflated and large that it started masking his own body in the shadow. His expanding butt didn’t stop after crushing his body in its own shadow, it kept on getting inflated and larger. All that was appearing on wall was a huge shadow of a sphere. One day, this sphere covered the whole wall but, didn’t stop. Its vicinity reached beyond what was till now a confined wall.


 

Note: Written in hurry for Creative Mondays as I’m travelling right now, I can possibly expand it later.

Remembering Future?

Ever wondered that we can remember past but, are unable to do so for future. Why we perceive the time’s arrow moving only in one direction that is from past to future and not the other way round? The answer to this could be explained by entropy of a closed system. But, before we get into into the answer, we should know a little about notions of time. According to Stephen Hawking, there are three notions or arrows of time: psychological (that we perceive through brain), entropic (movement in nature from order to disorder) and cosmological (it moves forward or backward depending upon the inflationary or deflationary state of the universe). Psychological and entropic arrows of time could be considered same and here we are discussing the reason that forbids us from remembering future in the context of psychological and entropic notions of time.

In a closed system, changes take place in a direction that increases entropy. Now, what is entropy? In simple language, we can say that entropy is the degree of unpredictability of a system. In case of Universe, we are on a constant move that is increasing the entropy or disorganisation within it. It is the reason behind the flow of heat from a hot to cold object but, not vice versa. Our memory is created by the particular fashion in which neurons orient themselves within our brain, energy is required to create this orientation which in turn heats up our bodies, thus increasing the entropy. So, the reason behind our perception of uni-directional psychological notion of time is that it creates increase in entropy.


Read more on it: http://www.math.cornell.edu/~numb3rs/luthy3/thearrowoftime.html

http://physics.aps.org/articles/v7/47?referer=rss

http://preposterousuniverse.com/eternitytohere/faq.html

http://physics.aps.org/story/v24/st7

 

Vacation

Vivacious birds in vivid colours stole her eyes, on a joyous day, before the pre-mature night. Rachita was on vacation, a vacation to the land of her dreams. Canopies crowned the jewel of earth, brook babbled creasing the heart of heaven, laced cobras miles of offshoots, peacocks twerked to the rhythm of heat. It was Aravali, the line of peaks, near Delhi in 2006.

She was sitting next to a rugged rock, streams of water passed. Her heart rhymed to the mellow tunes of nature. The sky started darkening, hundreds of screeches filled the air. All of a sudden, rhymes and rhythms dishevelled. She gazed at the darkening sky, thousands of eagles started joining each other, forming an umbrella over the forest. Scavengers arrived in the land of life. Puzzled. Scared. Her heart pounded harder than the heaviest. Smell of rotten flesh replaced fragrances of wild flowers. Green trees started melting in a self putrefying process. Rotten leaves, branches, flesh of birds started falling over her. She started running randomly towards any space that seemed free. But, the hell had already covered the celestial sky. In mid of noon, it was as dark as mid-night. Eagles attacked her with their sharp, pointy beaks. Blood oozed from her pierced skin. She had no way apart from jumping into the brook and she jumped. Her skin started peeling like the cover of a boiled potato. She was flowing with the stream of water. Along with her, trails of blood followed her cascading path. Meanwhile, the eagles kept on attacking. She was getting nearer to a massive fall, a fall of folklores that comes into existence for a single day after every hundred and eight years; on the day when night has its new moon. The legends of land dictate that the Goddess Cha of jungle changes her skin after an interval of hundred and eight years. The time when she leaves her old skin for the new one brings catastrophe to the whole jungle. Trees, birds, animals die within a fraction of second; decay; dissolve; while the river changes its course and a fearsome fall of Cha appears.

Involuntarily, unconscious, like a lump of dead mass Rachita fell into the fall of Cha. Silence roamed. Complete dissolution. Not a single life left, eagles disappeared, sky cleared. A serene river appeared in tranquil. A massive fountain of water, rattling like the tongue of a venomous snake with unsurpassable power of creation thundered the sky while rising from earth. Droplets of water like millions of gleaming diamonds fell over the impalpable remains of past. Seedlings sprouted from seeds, birds hatched from eggs, new lives appeared. Lions roared, crickets chirped. It was life ones again. But….but, what happened to Rachita is not known. She could have died, she could have lived, though it is certain that she disappeared. A few miles away, in a village, smeared in blood, separated from the umbilical cord, a baby cried.


Note: Written for the prompt “vacation” of IBQ

Liebster Award

liebster-award1

Summer is high^high^high here and amid so much heat there is no stop to sharing and blogging. A few days ago, I was nominated for Liebster award by Malaika. Thank you very much Malaika for nominating me to the Liebster award. Your spiritual blog spreads messages in a very unique and creative way, I like your videos, instructions and opinions on yoga.

Here are a few rules to participate in it:

1. Thank the nominating blogger.

2. Answer the question(s) that he/she asks.

3. Nominate 5-11 bloggers, preferably with less than 500 followers.

4. Ask question(s) to these bloggers.

5. Let the bloggers know that they got nominated.

My reply to Malaika’s question, at the end of your life, what would you like others to know about you? how would you like to be remembered?

Well, to be honest I don’t want to be known or remembered and I’m indifferent to the way others would like to remember me because I don’t want anyone lingered on a personality that no more exists.

Now, my questions to the bloggers whom I’m going to nominate:

1. Are you a tea or coffee person?

2. Who’s a better companion: a cat or a dog?

3. Which one you like more: Ice Lolly or Ice Cream?

4. What is your favourite season?

5. Who is your favourite author?

6. Which is the creepiest insect that you’ve encountered?

7. Which one you like more: a flowering or a non-flowering plant?

8. Which is more convenient to you: typing or writing?

9. Which one would you prefer: beach or mountains?

10. What would you prefer on your vacation: rainfall or snowfall?

11. In your opinion, what is the greatest wealth in this world and why?

Although my blog is 4 months old, I shifted to Word Press on 31st March 2014 from blogspot. My list is short but, my nominees are fabulous, here we go:

1. Jillian @ http://thelatejillian.wordpress.com/

2. Alaknanda Mookherjee @ http://coldclips.wordpress.com/

3. Timitude @ http://timitude.com/

4. Linty @ http://lintyr.wordpress.com/

5. Vikas Reddy @ http://vikasreddy03.wordpress.com/

6. Kuheli @ http://mystickuheli.wordpress.com/

 

time (haibun)

I wake you up, don’t I? That’s what you accuse me of.

silence

splatters egg

on floor

No, I don’t need an introduction. I put all on you. You accuse me for everything that can’t be held by you. Buds, flowers, fruits, seeds, humus, plants– cyclic, isn’t it? And you claim me for it.  You can’t understand yourself and are out to know me, me?

stars

river reflects

million years

You count, I see whether you reach up to me or not. Ever thought that I can be sitting eternally by your side? Ever thought that I’m a reflection, yes, reflection of everything seen and felt by you? No. For you, your life is real. But remember, I’m the elusive driver, driving your mind.

rains-

petrichor

returns

I return because I’ve never been away. Don’t blame you. You can’t see me as I’m. In parts you see, in parts you believe and in parts you differentiate. But, I’m all as one: no past, no present, no future. I’m as I’m, always: Time.


Note: A Haibun written as monologue in response to Linty’s prompt: Speak to me

 

Bubble Bizarre (1)

It was a morning, sun rays entering through windows fell upon white marble floor of a well groomed airy room. Red sofa, beautiful antiques and sophisticated wall hangings. Amid all these beauties, lied a deceptive portrait of a woman in brown saree, the portrait’s face was blurred with water paint and it looked like a diffused oval bulb lost in crowd.

No, I can’t eat it.”

Little Boy, if you don’t eat it then Mama will roar.” Her eyes glistened grey, she grinned while removing black tresses falling over her face. She held an apple near Rohit’s mouth. She moved her hand forth till the apple touched Rohit’s lips. “No,” screamed Rohit squeezing his eyes with a great force.

Huh,” gasping, drenched in sweat wakes up teenage Rohit, 4:02AM. He threw back the white blanket which covered his half body, went to wash-room and prepared for his job. Rohit was a Paper boy whose work required to get up as early as 4:00AM. Unlike other Paper boys of the area who had to pick up and deliver various kind of newspapers, Rohit exclusively delivered only one newspaper titled “Bubble Bizarre”. His story of landing a job at Bubble Bizarre was itself unbelievable. One day, while going for a job interview he bought roadside spicy puffed rice wrapped in a piece of newspaper. He finished the spicy puffed rice but, didn’t threw the piece of paper in which he bought it, instead he kept it in his black leather bag. After a day of unsuccessful attempts and failures, Rohit fell over his bed at night. All of a sudden, he thought to open his bag in order to check his past academic performances. That day, strangely when he was enquired about his academic records, he stumbled and felt like a total blank. Hence, he was rejected. How? How could he forget everything, he was shocked, confused, anxious and what not? Hurriedly, he opened the bag to see pieces of papers titled “Bubble Bizarre”. His mark-sheets, certificates all gone. What remained there were some papers with Bubble Bizarre written on them. He took a paper which read, “Congratulation! You’ve been selected for the team Bubble Bizarre. As long as you work with us, you should not think about anything earthly like salary, food, transport, communication etc. If you’re interested in working with us, type aoodapoacpcoa in your address bar of internet browser, this is one time access code to our site, for further information, you need to visit us.”

Rohit was excited even though he lost all his academic certificates, he had some intuitive trust over his new found recruiter. He rushed to his PC and opened internet browser to type aoodapoacpcoa in the address bar. It took him to the homepage of Bubble Bizarre.

Bubble Bizarre is a daily published from the core of Mars by Martians for Martians residing all over solar system. You’ve hit upon our Earth especial page that is available for users on earth. Since all this may appear like a dream to any Earthizen and some of you may wonder why we’ve chosen you, here is a link to our FAQs. Rohit clicked on FAQs that took him to a different web page.

Why You?

Because not every human can adjust to various frequency levels required for communication all through the solar system so, we select a few who can adapt and perceive frequencies from realms different to their own.

How chosen?

We have appointed our Martian nurses in every Earth hospital where a baby is born. Our nurses have inbuilt scanners that can scan and detect a human baby best suitable for our requirements.

Why now?

Our nurses tag human babies that we think would serve our purpose, they follow and feed them regularly with our bio-transmitters which require time to adjust naturally to a human body and once adjusted, they make a human capable of communicating with any life form within our solar system.

Why Martians on Earth don’t use bio-transmitters in their body?

Because some high IQ beings who run Earth from underground have kept track on beings from all over the solar system, they maintain strict security and fear any invasion from other planets so, they track bodies of Martians living on Earth. But, they seldom track any human body, they view a human body as an inferior trash incapable of challenges. So, we take advantage of this loophole to prepare professionals that would cater to our requirements.

What is the job?

You’ve to deliver our newspapers to a few selected Martians, their residential addresses have already been encrypted in your brain so that no Earthizen including you can misuse them in future. Various parts of these newspapers and various parts of you, would remain in various different dimensions simultaneously which would mean that neither you nor the newspapers would be fully or similarly viewed from any single dimension.

Do you agree to work with us?

If you don’t agree to work with us then we’ll instantly deactivate all the bio-transmitters that we’ve fed you and embedded in your body that would lead to neurological demolition of yourself, to prevent this, agree to work with us and click here.

Rohit clicked to agree. BOOM, a blast on earth. A mouse sniffing here and there in debris, Rohit searching his favourite video game cartridge in various rooms.

Over A Chat

a cat-
drools dog
in mid-day

“Today, I bought a gown worth Rs. 20,000”
“Isn’t it cheap for a designer gown?”
A grin. “I bought a matching necklace worth Rs. 5,00,000 too.”
A frown. “That’s great.”
A laugh. “Yes, I’m the Barbie.”

A petite, gracile lady dressed in white top and black high waisted pencil skirt enters.
Gazes; Grim; Scowls.

“No dressing sense, simply trash.”
“I agree.”
Giggles

Confidence is NOT
    what you say
       what you want to believe
          what others believe;
             it IS
                your comfort
                   your trust
                      your bliss, in yourself.


 

Note: Written for IBQ weekly writing prompt

Dear Dream Reader

Dear Dream Reader,

You’re a reader in need, reader indeed. Everybody likes to read and appreciate a good piece of writing but, a true reader is one who can continue reading till the last word without interruption irrespective of the quality of work. You understand the effort behind worse of worst writing pieces and honour it with your patience and time. Very few are like you, who’re there with a writer of no name and fame. An unconditional reader is as rare as platinum on earth.

~~~~~~

The Question

I really had no idea of my dream reader when I initially saw this assignment for day six of blogging 101 but, then I thought and I asked myself several questions before deciding upon the criteria of my dream reader. To me anyone who reads without any expectation is a dream reader.

The Search

A dream reader is one who hunts down a writer from the last of rags and puts him/her on top of the table. With a dream reader, a writer is never anxious of losing readership even with his/her worst work.

Gratitude

Gratitude towards a dream reader is inexpressible because the words like Thanks or Gratitude cannot do justice to the delight that one gets from the readership of a dream reader. Still millions, billions, infinite thanks to the incredible dream reader.


 

Note: Written for blogging 101 challenge