When Words Become Executioners

Silence or death. What if only those two choices remained in the world? She had finished the second page of her story when she- or rather, her character arrived at that question. She barely understood that concept, that condition in which one is really less than one. She always had more: the ability to think, just like the majority of the world. And with that, she had no trouble talking, writing and relating. Thoughts have to be stated, she thought, otherwise, what would be their point? It’s not really about freedom of speech, it’s simply freedom of Life.

beneath Her canvas

The Artist herself is dual-natured. She has two distinct souls and thus, two different pairs of windows into them. She speaks with one and thinks with the other, sees with one and looks with the other. One can never tell where she begins and ends, or even which she she truly is. The hers are both hers.

In Response to Why She Can’t

This is a continuation of sorts. A quick, fragmented thought (reaction?).

Bright, white wings. The little girl’s biggest dream was to fly. She pinned a new white feather each day.

Bright, white wings. She was ready to grow up.

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Then one day, she dyed them bright pink. It was surely just a fad. She wanted them to stand out. After all, they were still wings, just full of color to boot.

Bright, pink wings. Outstretched to cover her double.

Pashanam

“Your second calculation is definitely wrong,” I pressed my phone closer to my ears, “you need to find all the torques first.. not the momentum!”

“Well, I thought I could deri-” my lab partner’s voice through the phone was almost inaudible over the slew of laughter that emerged from the table behind me. I sighed. This is what I get for choosing to finish my Physics lab at a community event. Though, in my defense, I had chosen to come to this counter because it was the quietest.. or at least, it was when I got here.
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Where lens fail, lights fade and lives forget..

from weheartit.com

I wish You had kept her happiness and not just the shape of her smile, that excitement and not just the tinted colors, and that rainbow in its wholeness, and that sorrow, that joy, that anger, that pain, that optimism.. I wish You, my lens, would keep something more than mere shreds of a world much too big for today and much too small to hold tomorrow.

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What ever happens to twitters after one dies?
Can one still tweet from heaven?
Would God allow that much?
The last tweet remains frozen in time,
“I’m on my way there.”
She was on her way, it’s true,
but it simply wasn’t there.

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I wish You had kept the way she talked and the reason for the sparkle in her eyes. I wish You could retain that warmth, in every one of her hugs. I wish You had treasured that feeling in our stomachs as we screamed our way down that roller coaster. And the taste of that Dippin’ Dots from that stall below the tracks.

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Would facebooks be stored in time?
Or would They go through and say,
“She’s dead, let’s
close
her account.”
How about her phone number?
And the blog she once had?

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I wish You could feel and take pictures of her person and not just her face. I wish I could touch this screen and hear her voice. That laugh and brilliant disposition- couldn’t You keep those too? But You didn’t and will not. You will never understand. This makes no difference to You, whether the smile is real or fake, whether the subject is dead or alive, whether that’s excitement or fear. You only trap saturated colors on salted plastics, layered in compounds but never in emotions. Merely shreds.
But I- I want the world.

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A saved voicemail,
“Call me when you get this.
I need to ask you a question.
i Miss you!”
I said yes to her question but
it doesn’t know.
it simply doesn’t Understand.
How long will it be saved?

.
“A voice with bells- you’ll get the solo,”
I told her that first.
The video shows her singing,
but it doesn’t know that I pushed her
onto the stage.
How long will it remain in a black case?
How long will life remain rolled-up?
Round, round, round it goes. Where it stops,
nobody Knows.

from felix.h on flickr

Cups of Tea

Background: Prom. This (if you want an actual view) or this (for those who have survived a heart attack, are pregnant, high risk for heart attacks, taking strong medications, etc.).  Some say it’s the most important thing ever. Others just laugh at that. I belong to the latter category.. or so I think. I’m still debating on that though.

Two people recently asked me whether I was going (though weirdly enough, neither of them went to school here so I don’t know why they’re asking this but anyway..)
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“Why aren’t you going?” he asked.

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“Well, I don’t know.. I mean, I don’t know how to explain it. It’s just.. you know. Spending hundreds on dresses that may lack quite a bit of fabric in areas, including but definitely not

He must have read my mind.

We Are Many
Pablo Neruda

Of the many men who I am, who we are,
I can't find a single one;
they disappear among my clothes,
they've left for another city.
 

Che Che Chechiii!

Guess where I’ll be for Christmas and New Year next year! (Granted I’m alive and well, the world goes on and things go as planned..)

KERALA!! I’m so excited. Let’s fast-forward, please!

Why?
My sister is getting married.

undoubtedly the most unorganized, prosaic, pointless post yet.. but I don’t think I’ve heart to edit it right now.. so yea.. here because I’ve no where else to go. i’ll probably delete it after a few days anyway… huh

I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to say it. All I know is that there is seriously something wrong with this world. Less than a month ago, a 19 year old jumped to her death and today, a 16-year old is thinking those same thoughts. I don’t think I’ll be able to stand two suicides in less than a month! There’s something WRONG with this! So ridiculously wrong.

Nice to meet you, Mr. Khān

Before I begin, a disclaimer- this is not a review but a response.

To a friend..

Dear _________,

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Do you remember the day I met you? We were both ten. The elementary school’s tarred ground was filled with masses of squirmy kids, excited for the first day of school. We were to stand in lines by homeroom. The chaos confused me. We noticed each other for being different. I was new: Indian and fresh-off-the-boat. You too stood out with brown hair that seemed to touch your knees and a calmness amidst the utter confusion- your smile beaming. I was ecstatic when I found out that we were in the same class. I loved your name, almost as much your hair.

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The Silhouette

She was a silly girl, with silly thoughts and a million silly dreams. She saw Bright worlds in clouds and Deep seas in the world. Her words were placed on strings and hung over her head, much above her own reach. She knew where to begin but never understood where to end.

TED: IdeasGiveMeHope

Today marks the beginning of my February break, the only good thing about living in a place that’s known to have some serious winterness to it is that our winter break is split to get a week in Dec. and a week in Feb. Since a combination of cabin fever and midterms normally have people running on each other nerves at this time of the year, this is fully warranted. And since it’s totally taboo to do work on the first day of break, I watched about 10-12 TEDtalks in a row. I know, I know, totally loser-status but it was worth it.

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To those who do not know, TED(:Ideas Worth Spreading) is pretty much a global platform to spread ideas by some amazing people all over the world.

Adieu to a King of Words

R.I.P Girish Puthenchery

And the Malayalam film industry has suffered another grand loss as a great lyricist turns away from the  world. He died of a brain hemorrhage yesterday night.

She Saw The World In Colors.

To say that she knew where she was going would be an understatement, for she knew much more than that- she knew the route, the means, the time, the stops along the way and- God, she knew where she was coming from. Darshana. The name struck me first. Vision. How befitting for a girl with every kind of vision possible: hindsight, foresight and an array of undistorted antonyms to a condition we all seem to suffer from: blindness.

Of my country

“How was it?” the voices differ but the question stays the same. Oh you lived in India? How was it? India in a word. The dictionary fails.

“Fun,” I always answer. If they still maintain eye contact, I elaborate. If they don’t, I don’t.

united for a faraway cause

I hate my school. A conflation of past experiences had led me to believe that my school is undoubtedly the most insular, self-centric institution in the world. But then there are exceptions, which lead me to believe in a few pieces of goodness, enough to search for a few holy aureoles among those diabolic horns. One such was the Christmas party I wrote of earlier.

The other was yesterday.

Of that Woman in Black..

The priests speaks a few words, in tongues foreign to those passive ears, already numb with screams and wails. The mother’s tears are dry by now. But the room is far from quiet. Women draped in black- sisters (blood relations faint in comparison), aunts (commonplace of course), best friends (for death) and a woman (in black and tears)- take control of this repining concert.

As a Star fades..

19. Only 19. Arundhati Roy called 31 a “viable, die-able age.” But this is not even 31, it’s 19!
Dix-neuf. Life is supposed to begin there, not end.
And yet, it ended for you. Or rather, you ended it! As the newspapers scream your name, I can’t begin to describe what I feel. There’s nothing more to this!
Black, deep, emptiness.

Why this choice? Why didn’t you remember that there is nothing more you can think, feel, do?
Were you scared? As you stood there

Relative Equality

collegecollegecollegecollegecollegecollegeuniversitycollegecollege
collegecollegecollegecollegeuniversitycollegecollege.
commonapp.scholarships.supplements.fafsa.morescholarships.essays.
DEADLINES.taxforms.recommendations.ESSAYS.

That’s generally the thought process of most American high school seniors these days, except those lucky idiots wisepeople who applied ED (I WISH!). I can’t walk outside without some aunty ambushing me with, “oh, moley, which college are you going to?” I don’t know aunty. I finished my applications; it’ll probably be March or April before I hear back and then, I’ll make my decisions. “Oh okay..” A day later, ” so where are you going next year?” I DON’T KNOW!.. Really, I’m not lying when I say that. Really!