Category: philosophy

The Puppets

In this brief moment, when the puppeteer above has paused his show thinking about what his next move should be, the puppets below stand still and shocked at their absolute inability to move on their own. For the first time in their lives, they realize how badly they mistook their actions as their own voluntary movements. So, what has their life been? Nothing but a portrayal of some fictitious story weaved by the hands above? Their life has never been theirs. Their reality has been nothing but a performance. What is the relevance of this kind of life? Should it even be called a life? They examine the strings attached to several parts of their body. They want to look up, curse the man who had been leading their lives instead of them but they can’t, not without his permission. In their motionless state, they could feel their mind sinking deep into the ocean of restlessness. They suddenly become aware of the thrilled audience at the front who sat anticipating for yet another wasted show. What joy can one derive from this? From someone’s misery? Are their lives nothing but a medium of entertainment?

Why did the puppeteer pause? They had been living happily in their ignorance! Now, how would they continue breathing with this horrifying realization when every single hope of any possible meaning to their life has been completely annihilated? Meaning of life? Maybe, maybe to be “puppetted” had been their purpose all along. But what kind of purpose is this which is by default, already attained? But this was their reality. This is their reality. Maybe they should just go along with it. But should they not be angry at their pitiable state? At their irrelevant existence? But what kind of relevance would their “voluntary” actions would bring anyway? They would still be on stage. They would be still performing – maybe with a bit of spontaneity but that doesn’t really make a difference! Maybe, it’s good that now they don’t have to carry the burden of making their lives extraordinary. Maybe, it’s for the best that the responsibility of such magnitude has been taken off their shoulders. Maybe things would be simpler now. But the freedom! Aren’t they going to miss their freedom? How could they be so confused, hopeful, furious, curious, morose and even relieved at the same time?

It’s difficult to get out of the maze of their thoughts now. Too late, they went in too far. “Maybe we should simply accept who we are” one of them speaks quietly. Accept who we are? Accept who we are! But who are we? Plastic! Paint! Waste! That’s what our being has succumbed to! And we should just accept that? “Then maybe we should rebel against our own nature,” the crazy man speaks again. What is wrong with this guy? We can’t move a millimeter without this string telling us to and you suggest us to rebel? Are you out of your mind? “Then what should we do?” the man shouts. Who knows! We cannot do anything! Maybe, you are right. We should accept who we are. But it is difficult. It is unfair. It is heartbreaking. It is anything but acceptable. “Okay…Well let me tell you this in that case. Why should we go on about calling ourselves a waste! If we can’t do anything about our situation, then can’t we be happy about the fact that we are also a piece of art? Aren’t we also a creation?” the crazy man says again. What’s up with this guy being so hopeful! We are doomed, my friend. We are DOOMED! “But we had always been doomed. It’s just that we know that now.” Somebody must make this creature shut up.

And suddenly, the puppets find themselves moving again. The puppeteer has resumed his show. They can’t stop themselves from engaging in this dance. They can’t stop themselves from obeying. What pathetic state is this! Can they slip into the zone of ignorance again? Maybe they can. After all, isn’t imagination supposed to be the most powerful tool? And so it begins as the puppets start imagining every movement as the part of their own life – not their performance. Of course, it’s difficult at first. Good things aren’t supposed to come easy. Their minds both protest and comply. But they imagine again. Again. Again. And again until it transforms into an incessant dream of their ideal lives. The strings break away and they dance, walk, embrace with their own will. It’s beautiful! They have finally attained the freedom to pen down their own stories. Who cares about the delusion? Who cares about the ignorance? There’s too much beauty in their independence to think about those stupid stuff! So, they sing! They swoon! They rejoice! They celebrate until…Until the moment, the hands upstairs pause again.

***

Posted on by saloni 2

How are you?

What do you mean? I mean I know what you mean but I don’t know. I don’t know how to answer that. How am I? Like the “W” in the word answer. Like the letters – U, E, U, E in the word queue. What’s that expression – French answer to this question? – comme ci comme ça. Like this like that. Like this. Like what? Like meaningless. Like pathetic. Like chaotic. Like not-good-enough. Like unoriginal. Like pretentious like I think that I am being all the time. And when I ask myself to be true, to be more “I” like in the word – I, I come up with same I.

How am I? You ask. Physically? Pretty sound. Have a slight head ache but who doesn’t. Mentally? As in if I am normal? Yes, Very. Thank you. Emotionally? Don’t ask. But then you have asked! Not well, my friend, not well. I am crushed. I am on a relentless ride of highs and lows. I have no clue how to stop it. There’s flood. There’s drought. Flood – when there’s too much happening at the same time and I am drowned in the haphazardness. Drought – when there’s too less happening over a long stretch of time and I am convinced that the end, despite being the inevitable entity, is never going to come.

Then living isn’t fun sometimes. Doing things I don’t like isn’t fun. Doing things that I like and then finding out that it isn’t as fun as I thought it would be, isn’t fun. Not doing anything isn’t fun. Just doing anything isn’t fun. But why am I complaining! I am supposed to be the lucky one! Be grateful, child! Be grateful! So, thank you for this life god, which you clearly created out of habit instead of necessity. Thank you for this.

But, yeah things are fine. This coffee is fine. My cellphone is fine. My laptop is fine. The weather is fine. The woman over there with the flowy red dress and the nicely tied bun is fine. And that group of school kids shouting over a game of UNO are fine. But how am I? I guess I am angry. Also sad. Also disgusted. Also disgusting. Also chaotic. Also ugly. Also clumsy. Also confused. But also alive. Also dreamy. Also calm. Also peaceful. Also inspired. Also amazed. Also beautiful. But then you don’t want to know all of this, do you? So, how am I? I am a careless and disproportionate mixture of fine(s). Of course, to put it simply, I am fine. Is there anything else we can all be?

~Musings from the coffee shop

Posted on by saloni 2

I wish I had some courage

I wish I had the courage to declare myself eccentric, to talk to myself in public ; loudly and clearly, to quit my job, to truly hate it and draw inspiration from that hatred, to be determined enough to never succumb to it again, to dream relentlessly or not to dream at all, to accept the world for how it is; not how it should be, and if the world is not acceptable then to take up the responsibility of being the change, to do things I feel like doing, to live through impulses, to travel and get lost, to leave myself entirely and then be rediscovered, to criticize and not be likeable, to have my heart speak through my voice and not by my unheard thoughts, to tell someone that he is special, either that or that I don’t like him at all, to not be bothered by the fictional thoughts of others, to greet strangers like old comrades, to smile on a shittiest day, to share my deepest pain, to wail in the middle of a street, to be vulnerable, for once at least (and then suddenly find the strength), to learn things that I am too old to learn, to applaud myself if needed and not care if called conceited, to not let anything deprive me of my esteem or respect, to love without fearing that one might reject, to be visible and not be conscious if seen, to be able to say things that I truly mean,  to not heed the delusive stories spun by my mind, to revere happiness and not be scared of its disappearance if acknowledged, to not care about money, or my own irrelevance, to not hate myself or life or fate, to love the face that stares back in the mirror, to accept who I am and not compare, to be the unadulterated myself completely and be it even if it is the stupidest thing to be.

I wish I had the courage. I wish I had just a little courage to do the things I wish.

Posted on by saloni 0

The Invisibility cloak

“How did you get this?” She enquired (not) looking at my invisibility cloak with her coveted and infatuated eyes. I sat speechless, surprised at her choice – How did I get it? I don’t know. I don’t remember.
“How did you get it?” She asked again, more curious now.

The greed and admiration in her eyes caused an unexplained agony in my heart.

“You seem utterly fascinated by it? You want it?”

“Want it?” She exclaimed. “Hell yeah! I want it!” And then she went on to how she would use it; How she would blend right in and no one would ever know, how she would run freely, oblivious of the eyes and voices around, how she would observe and never be observed, how she would be anyone she wants in her own little world. It would be amazing, she said. It would be the greatest thing, she said.

Her naivety stabbed jealousy in my heart and her ignorance made me chuckle. How did I get the invisibility cloak though? Oh! I remember! I did not get the invisibility cloak. I made it. I casted a spell weaved out of colloquial speech and vernacular thoughts. I dyed my cloak with the rainbow colors of society. I washed it in the buckets full of dreams and fairy-tale fantasies and squeezed them right through it. I dried it under the sunlight of approvals and normalcy. I sewed it with the delicate soft threads of comfort and advantages. I ironed out the wrinkles and creases with the heat of conformity as well as frequent genocide of idiosyncrasies.

“You like it? You can take it.” I said.

“Really? You sure?”

Am I sure? Of course, I am sure. I don’t want it. In fact, I loathe it. I am tired of wearing this depressing thing! And your admiration! Jeez! It doesn’t make even a bit of sense to me! How can you be so fascinated by this? What’s wrong with being seen after all? When there is nothing to hide why do you need this cloak? Once you start wearing this, you can never take it off! Why do you want to spend your whole life peeking through this deception? This cowardice? This great doleful irony?

“Yes, you can take it. It is yours now.”

And anyway, I have already started making myself a new one.

Posted on by saloni 9

A happy ending

image

I feel like a child sometimes. My hand is held by my fate who happens to be my loving guide and we walk along this beautiful monotonous road that I love so much that I loathe it. I am easily distracted by the things that pass by our journey. And why wouldn’t I be? Grass is so green all around me and the road is so dull! So, I try being stubborn and all -putting forward my desires to leave the road and take a detour among the greener sides. Fate says no. I insist. Fate says no again. I throw some tantrums. Fate is tired  and so she says – Okay go ahead, explore.

I am delighted! My heart is elated! I hurriedly let go of her hand and begin to run towards the unexplored woods, my feet touch the green grass, my hands are not held and I am free to run! To dance! To go anywhere I want! It’s amazing! And it is finally happening to me!And it is at this thought that I stop and look back at her.

Pause.

Play.

I start to walk into the woods again reminding myself that this is what I ever wanted!

Pause.

Play.

And then for no reason or for those reasons that I am not ready to accept just yet I stop and look back again.

Pause.

Play.

Fate smiles; she knows what’s about to happen. I turn my head towards the woods again, I look at it so lovingly – “I am almost there!”

Stop.

And then I give a sigh and trace my way back to the road. I hold her hands again and we begin to walk.

I tell myself that grapes are sour. I tell myself that the day wasn’t right. I console myself – Maybe tomorrow. Fate senses my sorrow, being the encouraging person she is, she assures me how beautiful the road is going to be. The trueness in her eyes is not deceptive, the dumbness in my perception is just appropriately clandestine ; I am convinced it’s for the best and hence we walk again.

We are walking again, walking again through the road that I loathe so much that I love it.

It’s a happy ending. My happy ending.

Posted on by saloni 4

Connecting the dots; A tribute to the past

So close, yet so far
trying to relive through the moments that will never come back,
Going distant, and distant and distant
like the milestones along the road growing small…

I am gazing through the back seat of a car,
and slowly forgetting where the milestones are…
it’s not fair,
these images in my head,
some existing and some diminishing
transforming into the vivid images of a beautiful dream I will soon forget,
it hurts when memories  exist,
it hurts even more when they slowly fade away;
My brain in a pitiable auto format mode,
only so much of Terabytes it can accommodate!
but  son! We can go to the front seat  and drive!
Look out for the milestones that will grow big instead of small,
We will make note of each one of them
until we pass by and again forget them all,
but don’t worry the road won’t end,
it simply won’t,
maybe the never ending journey won’t make sense,
maybe the past will haunt again,
maybe the future won’t seem bright
especially with beautiful images of the trail behind splashed all over inside,
maybe chaos will forever be chaos,
maybe the noise will never turn into symphony,
So what, son, so what?
come to the front seat,
don’t be seated at the back,
your reasons to stay are good,
and I have nothing better to argue,
but don’t waste too much time connecting the dots,
it will never make sense when you will want it to,
come at the front, we will have fun,
We will never talk about the dots!
We will never talk about the road!
And trails shall become a map, and dots an image,
One day, one day out of nowhere…
when you would have forgotten that you ever cared.

Posted on by saloni 5

Hasta la vista Losers!

So, it has finally happened. The thing that I have been waiting for since the last four years is right there in the palm of my hands ready to be pocketed. Thing I have hated from the bottom of my heart is ultimately vanishing. And all I am going to be left with are some memories which are going to grow fewer and more rare with each passing day. Isn’t it amazing?

Isn’t it?

No?

NO?

It’s not fair how the most awaited thing of your life ends up disappointing you. While my heart should have been jumping up and down, whooping with ecstasy, it is growing heavier with every breath I take. I don’t get it. The insides of my heart are becoming more or less like a dam blocking the whole reservoir of emotions from flooding my entire body. It’s raining and raining and I know someday, I am going to drown in this inevitable inundation of feelings.

What am I going to miss?

Friends? Classes? Funny teaching assistants?  Practical labs? Canteen?  So much vella time? What?

It’s not done brain!  I thought we agreed that none of us are going to grow sentimental about this. I thought we had a deal. Why the fuck are you breaking it?

“But don’t you see, turquoise ink!” says my brain in an attempt to defend himself, “that in these years of stagnancy, ironically, so many things have changed! Look at you! Look at me! Look at the memories we have made! I am not doing this intentionally! Damn it! I am not deceiving you! I am just so helpless.”

Huh. Traitor.

ihateyou

What do I say? What do I write?

I am tired. I am tired. I am tired of growing and I want to revert it back. I am tired of struggling to swim across my emotions. I am tired of happiness. I am tired of hope. And I am tired of anticipating the unknown. You wanted my naked emotions? Here they are! I am scared shitless. And I want it all to stop. You wanted me to be despondent. Look here I am heart! Morose. Pessimistic. Hopeless. In a weird state of mind where the right words are just not coming out.

How do I say how do I feel?  Sadness has always rendered me speechless and in an acute awareness of the fact that my vocabulary isn’t good.

One might expect me to write an ode to these four years. But I can’t do it. There is no ode. There is no symphony. There are no lyrics or music.  All I have is an ugly mixture of  chaos, confusion, disappointment, anxiety, panic attacks, happiness, late night rainfalls of tears, lots of laughter, lots of irrelevant knowledge, a little of relevant knowledge, infinite sleepless nights, loads of hung-over afternoons, memories of unplanned trips, memories of planned trips, some unforgettable dialogues, some unforgettable quotes from late night conversations, the pleasure of watching some of  the most amazing movies for the first time, some deeply embedded tunes of most beautiful songs, some of the funniest live actions, awareness of individualism,  starvation for freedom, haunting questions, philosophical discussions, falling in love, getting heartbroken, realizing the dreams, un-realizing the dreams, change of perception, consistency of soul, realization of friendship, realization of connection, anger outbursts, a little of regret, a little of hope, a little of fear and a lot of lessons that I am not even aware that I have learnt. I have found beauty in the ugliness. How do I describe it all in a bunch of fucking rhyming words?

How do I do it?

Self absorbed as I am, I think I am sinking in the pool of my own reflections. While I have tried my best to spread the happiness around me wherever I am, what have I done to myself?  While I have been such a loud advocate of “living in the moment” kind of lifestyle, why am I lagging behind the time? While I have such casually cried out loud “no regrets”, what have I been repenting?

So detached and yet so adhered.

And here I thought college was just about some fun studying, a bit of partying and eventual career building. Huh! I don’t need to know how wrong I had been.

This could have been a gratitude letter for my friends. But they already know that I am thankful to them. They already know that I love them. Fuck gratitude letter. Fuck “I am going to miss these days” pieces of sentimental crap. You say “These were the best days you were ever going to have” So what are you implying?  I should just die now? Since the best is over?  What we ignore about the “end” is that though it is one distasteful concoction of lasts, it is also a gateway to the more exciting blend of “firsts”.

“But still”, you would argue, “it is a little sad, don’t you think?” Well, of course it is! I am going to miss it, yes. The people I have met, the things I have done.  It’s been marvelous.We have all touched each other’s lives in such a delicately beautiful manner that it’s really hard to believe these connections exist for real.I could have made this all about them but I don’t want to ignore this person I know. I do not want her to make false assumption that her life is over. And I am extremely sensitive about her because I know. I know how hard it is for her to walk through life. I know how she struggles. I know how things haven’t been perfect for her, and that’s why this is my earnest effort to let her know that it is okay. And if there is nobody else to tell you this, then you should know that I am here, inside your fucking head to tell you that you are one crazy person to live with but dude! I am stuck with you so I am going to be there for you anyway. And whenever you are going to shatter apart into million pieces again, I will pick each one of them every time and you would never be alone even if you are alone.

There!  That is the college ending gift for you, turquoise ink. You- yourself. Be whoever you want to be.

You fear that you are going to screw up big time with this big responsibility. Then, be it. Screw it all up. I don’t care. We will find something amazing anyway.

Don’t have faith; don’t have hope, fuck it. Don’t have anything. Be as much as the sentimental assholic drama queen as you can be, but I am going to live with you and pick you up and drag you to our land of dreams anyway.

Four years, and I realize that I am not an engineer after all. But instead I have realized that I am an individual. And considering the fact that some people don’t get that for their whole lives, I think I have done pretty good.

Signing off as self absorbed as I can be, getting sentimental for all the peculiar reasons, bidding adieu to college yelling – Ghanta engineering!
Hasta La vista Losers!

Love and lots of Gandugiri,
Theturquoiseink

Posted on by saloni 4

Where is the I in your I?

How many days have you forgotten? How many days are there to forget?
How many deeds have got you deceived? How many are there that you regret?
Crushed under opinions, hidden behind good impressions,
Caught up in denial, under vain beautiful expressions,
The clock is ticking; the so-called time is flying by…
And yet you lie stuck searching for the I in your I…

Adapting, conforming, certain things have to be learnt
Lost and confused yourself, some dreams have to be burnt…
Between the choices of rights and wrongs,
You stretched ignorance for too long…
Now, relevance doesn’t make sense,
The prospect of living is too intense,
There is a thin line between the choice -whether to live or to die…
Just how far will you go to find the I in your I?

Why should you chase the sound if echoes are perfectly fine?
Why should you chase chaos if life is perfectly aligned?
Tired of possessing things that you don’t even deserve,
Tired of invading space that you should have reserved,
A persona is all you have, Identity is long gone lost
A thing you thought you bought; now you have to pay the cost.
And the clock is ticking and ticking; the so-called time is flying by…
And yet you lie stuck searching – Where is the I in your I?

Posted on by saloni 0

Being “an adult” about things

What is being an adult anyway?

Is it when you are not in your teens anymore? Is it when you start being “responsible”?

Is it when you shed off your fantasies and get real about things? (Get real! Now what is that supposed to mean?)

Is it when you grow a little selfish and start thinking more about your welfare?

Is it when you grow impervious to what others feel?  Is it when you grow impervious to your own feelings? Denial! Acceptance! Blah blah blah. Papa heart please don’t preach me.

Is it when you realize all your dreams were so stupid? Or is it when you realize that they are actually quite real!

Is it when you are swimming in and out of the zone of frustration all the time? Is it when you just don’t care anymore?

Is it when you give up on the idea of romance and soul mates? Or is it when you really put an effort to make your idea of love come true?

Is it when you learn to live with the noise and the hullabaloo around? Or is it when you pursue silence and want the whole world to shut the hell up!

Is it when you begin to appreciate imperfections or is it when you start working hard to eliminate them?

What is being adult anyway?

The reason that I am asking this question is that I have realized that I suck at making decisions. I literally have no backbone of my own. And I am awfully juvenile. And I think the solution for this is – being “adult” about things.

But you know what my fucking problem is! –  I don’t know things.

I am awfully confused and lost. I am an aimless dreamer who is hoping her dreams would come true even with her ass glued to the sofa and the fingers  engaged in an unconscious act of scrolling through the facebook newsfeed all the time…
Ah! How typical of me!
I look at somebody’s life and I am like- “Wow! He has got it all figured out. He has such maturity that I could just drown in envy.”

How terribly wrong I am!
And yet… Even after knowing the very fact…
Growing up is a misleading term. It’s so wrong at so many levels. I feel I was more “mature” when I hadn’t even entered my teens.

What is it? Another one of my grumpy days? Ugh.

No, it’s not another one of my grumpy days actually. Yes, I wish I could shut the whole world right now but well…I can’t.

At this point of time my brain is like – Why do you want to be an adult? If it’s so confusing then just leave it! Like seriously! Dude!

My brain is a pretty chilled out guy. He needs no alcohol. He needs no weed. He is like so high and so at ease ALL THE TIME.

I hate my brain.
My own body doesn’t share half of my feelings with me!

Why do I want to be an adult? Well, because if I am really an adult I think my life would be better. I would take wiser decisions. Make good choices. Have things all figured out.

But that is not being an adult is all about? Is it?
Damn it!

Posted on by saloni 0

Life

Consumed and rejoiced, too real to know
that some things are just lost in the sands of time,
Lying so adeptly that, “I will see you soon.”
they never quite come back to complete the rhyme.

Choose whatever you want to be,
Ignorant or furious or hopelessly drowned in sorrow,
But the truth will never change; you are nothing but deceived,
Keep praying and begging but they’re not coming back tomorrow.

Posted on by saloni 7