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Assistive Touch

I’ve come to realise that all of life is nothing but a projection of your own thoughts. If you’re over the moon, there are flowers blooming even in the heart of winter, and if you’re gloomy as a grey cloud, then all you see is a vile hand being played.

And the funny thing is, no one will ever know what you’re thinking about, or how you’re thinking about something.

I’m a people-pleaser kind of gal, I go out of my way to do things for the people I consider a part of my life. But it dawned on me that maybe people don’t think so. I’ve probably become so skyrocket-y that if I don’t go all out to do something it’s considered lesser than what I can actually do.

I love the feeling of helping someone out when they need me. (More so, when they don’t!) Only because it makes people smile, and as selfish as that may sound, I like knowing I made someone smile. No deed is ever considered selfless anyway.

But then I guess, I wonder why, not many people really remember the things that one does do for them. People tend to remember what you didn’t do; where you faltered in a step and made a blunder. Penny for your thoughts: how many people do you know that actually harbour this negative approach?

I think we should really take it a notch down and applaud people for the things that they do do for us. The times that they make us smile, and the times that they’ve pulled us out, even if for a millisecond, of the dark times. I think we’d all be much happier then, if we thought the best about each other. Everyone tries really hard. Why would I take the pain to make someone miserable when I spend hours trying to do things to make them think of cherry blossoms? I don’t even know how to spell rvengeege. I’m trying to put my finger on the motive aspect here; I personally, don’t have an ill wishing bone in my body. (Unless you’re harming dogs, I’ll kick your shins.)

It’s not anybody’s business, but it’s just so annoying when you sense disappointment from another human being. Like how does someone deal with that? Where do you help someone believe that things didn’t go as planned, deliberately?

We’re all different people, made so very beautifully differently, and I’d hate to put my heart on comparison with that of anyone else’s. Maybe I’m silly, but there’s the one thing I can do that nobody else can.

I try and see the best in people; I mean it’s one way I can take my mind off all the mean thoughts I’d have towards another. Perhaps that’s my thing. Wouldn’t the world be a better place if we just put on each other’s shoes once a while and liked each other a little more?

Or am I being stupid with this whole garb of actual raw niceness?

I’m no superman. But I’d still like to be appreciated for the red cape I do make an effort to put on.

x EdgyShark x

Forgiveness is a Four Letter Word

The difference between once and never is everything.

– Inspired by Locke. My gratitude, Jay. 

Making a mistake is what us humans were born to do. But precaution aside, every mistake binds us deeper into this labyrinth of suffering in which we choose to warp ourselves, with those who provide us with love, shelter, light and even darkness; with those that show us the path unto ourselves, and those that tend to tangle us farther into this thing called an emotion.

We reflect all that we are emotive of; all that is within. Sometimes, this pressure to be and to do leads us to an opening offered, an easy disguise that seems like a plausible getaway; even if for a few moments. How then is it wrong to a fewer times run amok if it leads us ultimately into the right turn?

Mistakes can either help you reform or push you deeper away from your soul. Is it okay then to make a mistake even if it affects not only you but all those around you too? Are you just cheating yourself, your conscience, or even those of your loved ones, those who find their emotions reflective in you? But doesn’t it make sense to make a mistake at your own behest and then face the consequences? Why is it that your mistake leaves several others at the hands of your repercussions?

Only delving further into the labyrinth will tell.

x EdgyShark x

An Empty Front Seat

Boredom, boredom, boredom.

I’m so sick of staying within these four walls, I feel trapped. It’s true, I just got back from a mini vacation a week ago, but I don’t think it’s just that. I think it’s the lack of being able to voice what I want to, travel and go to where I want to. I also hate the fact that I still don’t know how to drive and am currently without chauffeur to escort me to meaningless destinations within the next 15 kms.

The worst part about this sickening situation is that I can’t even fucking get over how bugged I am. The same annoying television, the same room. You can only grow and develop when you meet new people, interact with others, and basically stay out of the house.

I’m not even so much as ashamed about not even once being able to pass this darn programming paper, which by the way another set I need to write tomorrow, because really, all that shouting and screaming by the same old forty year olds has gone over my head and I don’t seem to give  a tiny rat’s ass about it.

I need my comfort zone. I need my Z factor. And FAST.

x EdgyShark x

Chessboard of Divine Fantasies

Have you ever wondered how a chess board might be something that depicts life in its true form? The various pieces form a part of the world, and it doesn’t matter what day or age we survive in. The fair get the first chance and apartheid prevails. Each piece moves well, protecting itself from the war waging in front of it, and at the same time, trying to please everything else around it.

Two colors, two sides; a contradiction. Like matter and antimatter.

Because everything has an opposition, another side to it.

The King standing high and mighty, guarded by everyone else, will do anything to not let himself lose. Much like the princes and kings in the olden days, much like the dominating and powerful that rule the commercial and corporate world today. His Queen looks on as he plays his Pawns and Rookies away, gambling them without a care, in order to keep himself from losing the battle.

He tries to then absolve himself of his sins by making his subordinates pay for his wrongs. Criminal acts committed by virtue of being a source of mere repentance. An actor on the stage, living in a world of pretense and false joy. He believes in something, yet stands ground on the color of the cause of the revolution.

The Queen doesn’t utter a word. She knows that she is but another jewel in her King’s crown. Afraid to let loose her voice and ask for a change, she goes on as he wants her to, knowing fully well that his mind isn’t even with her. He is in the cave, amusing himself with material aspects, yet she holds on because she knows that at the end of the day, he will come back to her; either dead or alive.

The Rooks form a different form of humanity altogether. Many of them involved with the all mighty, waiting to be given special orders to carry out. Wandering the alleys at night with one hand on their pistols, they will do anything to survive because they know that they are the King’s right hand men, and they will be treated with care come what may.

The King so humble during the day with his subjects;

The same King “holier” by night.

One wrong move could put them in his bad books and be the end of them. What happens then to their families who live by with false notions of them providing justice to the world with professions that have a service motive?

The Bishop believes in the power of religion and has made many attempts to convert all those around him into believing the same. He has been through this ordeal throughout his life. Yet, standing on that alternate square, he makes his own moves, and with every move he thinks to himself whether he is doing right, or not quite right at all.

That same Bishop, a moral example for society on the outside. On the inside, he is simply a man trying to get God to forgive him for all the sins that he has knowingly and secretively committed. For being a Bishop has given him his sense of power. His fellow beings view him as a component of God, worship him, listen to him.

And he, by night, blends into them. He creeps into the depth of the night and gives in to all that he is against. A hypocrite, like all the others.

The Knight has sworn his allegiance to the powers around him. He has taken it in his stride that it is his duty to protect everyone. Yet, he jumps across the barricades and finishes of whoever he can. No, it doesn’t matter to him who he is killing, as long as he is doing that, he has been promised a standard routine.

The Pawns are  played along in the game like no other. There is no hope for them because they have no choice but to do what they are told to. They have nothing to fall back on, and getting wiped off the board would seem better than to live on a strenuous life without even possessing the basic amenities.

And, an enemy line captured can bring back every other piece but a Pawn. Because who would want the incrementing size of humanity to increase ever more?

Ruthless and fascinating, the stark world we live in, changing with every move of error and brilliancy.

x EdgyShark x

Male Chauvinist Pigs

No, I’m not going to name the place, the person or the printing press. Whoopsie, there you go, you got a hint.

So there’s this one newspaper that thinks it’s the bees knees. Honestly, we asked the deputy chief manager or whoever he was, of the plant, and he replied, “Oh yes, we are the best not only in India but in the world.” Sir may I ask, if you’ve kindly heard the names of the Wall Street Journal or the New York Times? Or even the Harvard journal, which is probably selling to more people than you are.

Just because you have the name of the nation on you, doesn’t mean you’re the best. In fact, you’re nothing but a user friendly paper eater. Because out of the impressive crores that you spend on your machines, you print more than half of the daily’s worth of advertisements. Not to forget the enormous amounts of paper, you so happily waste.

We went around the entire plant today, and towards the end of the field trip, I noticed there were no women out there. No women in the working departments, printing, advertising, nothing. Not a single woman in the horribly unkempt garden, nowhere near the gates. Except for that one female who was literally dripping of perfume but I think she only came to drop her husband off.

Yes, you’re an exceptional paper, but why such a disbalance? Alright, we understand for whatever your reasons may be. But when asked, all you can say is that, “Women are not as strong as men. They cannot handle pressure, they cannot do the printing job easily. And it’s not safe at night for them.” EXCUSE ME?

Are you freaking kidding me? And you call yourselves the best newspaper, internationally?! At least your answers to our questions could have been a lot less moronic. “So sir, are the same set of people working 24/7?” “No, of course not, we work in shifts.” Yes sir, you work in shifts and yet there are no women. I understand if they can’t work at night, but since you’re working in shifts, they could have easily done with working in the daytime. But yes, I get you, completely. Women cannot handle the pressure.

The entire presentation could also have worked a whole lot better if you didn’t spell out the letters F-L-I-R-T in bold while interacting with young girls, skeptic about the actual process of a day of printing.

Of course it’s not safe. “We had some 4-5 girls in our batch,” he says with that silly smirk on his face, “But you see, they couldn’t handle it.” He laughs. Yes sir, of course they couldn’t handle it. If you keep on your coquettish airs and don’t learn to be professional, no woman’s ever going to put on those pants and get inked.

It’s people like you who make it unsafe for women. Heard of call centers? Women work there throughout the night. And you’re supposed to be the best newspaper in the world.

Yes sir, please print that on the front page of your early edition tomorrow. Well, Brutus said you were all honourable men.

And in Scrooge’s words, (slightly abridged) “Every idiot who goes about with ‘Women can’t do this, women can’t do that’ on his lips, should be boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart. He should!”

x EdgyShark x

Enter: The Psychedelia

Drugs are bad. They’ve been teaching us, having presentations, there are people who come and talk about it, give seminars and basically push the majority to a wave that begins to believe in the fact and then further propagates it. And by now you’ve guessed that I’m not one to speak in appreciation of that.

Neither am I asking you to try anything, please don’t post this on AA or whatever websites. You can do whatever you want, and that’s what I’m trying to tell you. Nothing, absolutely nothing in life is bad. I mean after all, whoever made those rose and jasmine and mango trees also planted weed in the same way, right?

We are afraid of what we do not know.

It’s all about how you respond towards something. Your perception. Now if you get addicted, it’s not my fault. It’s your own barrier or competency, however you look at it. Just because something bad happened to you, it’s not going to happen to me, is it?

Try everything, in controlled amounts. Know when to stop, know when to say no if the time arises. But never say no before knowing what’s going to happen.

It’s like the prick of a needle. If you ask someone how it feels, there are two kinds of answers you’re bound to get: Okay or damn it hurt.

But what do you know? Your mind’s fed that into your soul yet you still don’t know how to feel about it once you yourself have tried it! *Okay, it wasn’t as bad as she told me it would be. Whoa.*

Of course not. How do you expect yourself to explain emotions to anyone?

And I feel the strength slowly creeping up on me, every single day. Because what doesn’t kill you, just makes you stronger.

x EdgyShark x

Frozen Like A Reindeer

No, I think that’s frozen like a deer caught in the headlights look. Something like that, you get the point. I wish there was someone to make me warm. My bones are gone, I wasn’t even being able to click the mouse and this post is going to be short because of my inability to type without feeling like I have splints tied to my knuckles.

Aren’t you like, feeling cold?

x EdgyShark x

P.S I’m Prefect. And it’s a hot word too. I have reasons to feel happy that I’m not something else, I’m just way too excited anyway. Who cares? People who go on and on about the above are too content with themselves. This gives me a chance to unfurl more and more to me.

I’m going to be a big fish in an equally bigger pond. 😀

The Little Things Give You Away

I realised something today.

It’s not the system that’s screwed. It’s the people who’re screwing it and making it worse. Yes, it’s never the circumstance, it’s always what people make it out to be. A random mishap took place today, where the fault I agree was mine.

But it wasn’t something life threatening, and people should realise that. They should come to terms with the fact that what we need are fresh and dynamic minds. Not old, rotting ones that think all the same traditional things everyday and lose themselves if something goes wrong.

We need to be the change instead of expecting it to come from elsewhere.

So to speak, school doesn’t suck. It’s only some absolute lameness present within some people in there that makes the entire process suck worse than god only knows what.

It’s high time people began to just learnt to ‘let go’ of certain things that happened and *could have* stemmed into huge disasters, but DIDN’T!

It’s high time people began appreciating others for what little things they do instead of criticising every thing they do. Whatever maam, I’m only here a little while. And I know you’re loving it that I’m here. It’s just because you know that the more you have of something, the less you value it.

Go ahead, I’ll be gone. Very soon.

Then you’ll have other people to pick on. It’s a vicious cycle. Yet, no. It’s not making you better. It’s just proving your stagnant sense of immaturity.

x EdgyShark x

Glitter And Pop – Love Lockdown At The VMAs

Do you even like Kanye West? Warning: This post is full of bubblegum and gossip, and glitter.

They always show these things real late in India. Everyone’s already talking about it, and you don’t know what’s happening because you weren’t there to witness the ceremony in New York City. I’d seen West being hauled on Jay Leno, Ellen DeGeneres and what not, but I really didn’t understand why he was being made to apologize to Taylor Swift. Before you get all whammed, they’re pop stars.

Ridiculous ones at that too. Alright, I don’t really like ‘Tay-tay’ (AT ALL!) but she didn’t deserve Kanye stealing her thunder at the VMAs this year. Imagine winning the Moonman for the best female video of the year, or whatever it was, and have a ferocious rapper come snatch the mic away and say things like ‘Beyoncé deserved it and she’s got the best video’ blu-blah.

Love Lockdown And The Moonman

Love Lockdown With The Moonman

And she probably did! Because well, “Single Ladies” is a sophisticated version of “You Belong With Me” but you can’t help but take it in your stride if the millions of fifteen year olds in America lose their minds over such shady lyrics and begin fantasizing about dancing with that high school jock at the school prom.

Another reason why we Indians are much, much better off.

Her previous song “Love Story” ? Is SO lame, that it makes me want to puke everytime I listen to it. It probably sounded ok the first time I’d heard it, but then all the tweeting on twitter, mess-up affairs with the Disney kids (Jonas brothers, Miley Cyrus, I mean, KHAMAWN!) on Facebook.

Don’t you think life was better when they were showing Full House on Zee Café every evening and all we swooned over were the Olsen twins?

Who, by the way, are totally out of the scene, but are two people I don’t mind looking up to. They paved the way for the perfect teenage drama queens, for crying out loud.

A little too perfect to be kicked out of the spotlight, I guess.

Russell Brand was pretty darn okay this year too. I expected some snider, nastier remarks but I guess they finally learned how to shut his English mouth up after last year.

Lady GaGa. I don’t know what to say. So I’m going to be indifferent. But really, what the hell is she trying to do with all that weird head gear? With all due respect (ONLY because of her love for the happy gay people) she sings about Paparazzi making her life living mayhem? Well, isn’t she practically publicising to invite them!?

What *IS* it with all the Twilight madness? (Okay, a post coming up on that, soon!)

Muse could have been better. Green Day’s beginning to appear like an evolved form of My Chemical Romance. Who by the way are completely off the hook.

And we still have dancers in the world who can do a great impersonation of MJ’s Thriller. Eminem’s become all weird. It must be the ganja.

It was a nice gesture, on Beyoncé’s part to give her Video of the Year moment away to Taylor. But I guess these nineteen year old value lacking American kids are never going to learn. The least she could have done was to thank the former Destiny’s Child star for giving her that opportunity. For all you know, Taylor Swift’s fan base probably drew out double more because of that one moment.

How the hell can you even listen to such disguised glitter?!

Its not even worth recycling

But it all kinda works out in the end. (Just like they’ve begun showing HIMYM instead of SaTC at 11 *grin*)

x EdgyShark x

Calcutta’s Shoddy Asset – The Railway Station

I think I just gagged while writing that caption. Spare me a moment, please.

Splitting headaches are not what you want to wake up with. Trust me,your head will thereafter proceed to give you trouble throughout the day. Anyway, 5am and I was wide-eyed waiting to go pick my sister up from the railway station.

My english teacher’s been teaching us factual description processes. And now I’m going to do my homework. “Give the factual description of a railways station.” Let’s change the question a little.

Sealdah station.

As the car slowly (and eventually) reaches the Sealdah crossing, time begins to slow down, and there’s nothing but noise everywhere. The kind that you can’t bear, especially with a headache as bad as a feeling of hammers banging your brain like there’s no tomorrow.

It actually looks civil here.

It actually looks civil here.

You’ll probably reach the gates of the station in another half an hour and the morning doesn’t look like morning anymore. Because the skies, forget the skies, the air above you is all smoky and gray. And you are then charged a hundred rupees for parking even if you want to station your car for barely seven minutes.

You look around and you are greeted with hoards of people boring their eyes into you, porters screaming their lungs out, literally snatching your luggage away from you in hopes of swindling tourists and earning that extra bonus.

There’s no place to walk, because almost everywhere the empty spaces are filled with the poor dwelling. Both outside and inside.

They’ve tried their had at being modern, but it hasn’t worked out. What does the government think it is capable of anyway!?

Just because they’ve put up an electronic board that reads the arrival and departure of five trains in big bold font, they think they’re hip. And cool. Oh, let’s not forget cool.

There was no space to move, forget being able to walk till the end of the platform where my sister was frantically waiting, all covered in grime with the hopes of seeing the inviting silver shower at home soon.

We walked, my dad and I. Inched one foot at a time, him paving the way for me, me trying to hold my senses in. I’m not a snob, no. I can bear any kind of conditions you put me in.

And I really try too.

Wooden carts laden with cargo, people bumping into each other, foul smelling stalls, everything that you’d wish you wouldn’t run into at 6am is exactly what the place was.

And to think I’d told my dad I’d be able to manage getting Ezz on my own.

Ehh, you know what? I could’ve.

My phone’s continuously buzzing with Ezz’s picture flashing on it and I know it’s no point picking up. “I’m right there, hold on,” I tell her. But of course, it’s impossible to hear anything.

Finally, we reach where the group was waiting. And she came up to me. And all I could say was, “Did you happen to take my Nike ACG shoes with you without asking me?!” “What? No,” she says. “Eh, well. Come on.” I turn away, and she throws her knapsack onto me.

Ezzie’s back 😀

Getting out of the entire mess was a whole other issue altogether. It’s difficult getting in, and it’s worse getting out. People traffic is SO bad and unmanaged that it’s hard to navigate your next step.

Somehow, they love banging into each other.

Daylight seems near as we head out towards the parking lot. But only to be reminded that the dhakis (Bengali locals who play the dhak, which is very much like an oblong drum) had just begun to show disinterested spectators all that they’ve got.

Boom boom pow much?

Boom boom pow much?

I’m not even averse to such folk music, unless it’s played well and somewhere desirable.

Not in the city’s most over crowded railway station in the wee hours of the morning, no siree.

Oh but no. They just won’t stop despite the glares I can manage. Of course, what can a measley thing like me even do?!

We’re in the car and I can only think of turning on the AC and wishing Imogen Heap on my cellphone can do something to replace the music. Ezzie fiddles with her bag in the backseat. “Pa! Guess what?!” she says excited, with her oh-so-squeakily amiable vocal chords. “What?” he asks, amused. (“Oh, we all love Aashna, she’s the apple of our eye. She’s such a daaaarling. She’s like a piece of candy!” Can I repulse you any further with the sweet tooth talk my parents do? “Urmika? Yeah Whatever.” Bingo, like The Supersonics. I couldn’t ask for a better melt down.)

“Remember you bought me eight Subway cookies when I went for the trip? Well, I have two left! YAY!”

Hungry?

Hungry?

Two Subway chocolate chip cookies. Six days old. Have probably survived all kinds of terrainous, unhygienic conditions right from the previous train journey to this one. Still wrapped in the familiar white paper napkin. She takes one out with her possibly gazillion bacteria covered tiny little hand and offers it to me. “Gee thanks,” I say with some literal, genuine happiness.

Because that was by far the nicest thing I’d witnessed since the two hours after waking up.

Cars rushed in from everywhere, absolutely no control and no one to check rule-flouting. “This is what taxes are paid for,” I thought to myself. Everyone is in such vigorous haste that it doesn’t make a difference if things topple, accidents happen, bla-blah.

We eventually made it home in another forty minutes.

x EdgyShark x