Mana ra Marichika

Jeebana ra e drushya bada kashtara, kahinki na epari jeebana ra chinta mora nahi ba nathila. Ete dina hela jadi mun ..mun hei rahili tebe aaji kaahin mun bhangi jauchi?

Kimba mun jaani nahi je aaji parzyanta je jibana byapana kalaa se mun na au kiye. Prati raati, dina jadi mun au kaha bisaya re bhabe kimba se dui topa luha buhaye tebe mun jeebana re kichi sikhuchi na kebala kashta bhoga karuchi mu jaane na. Hele mun aiya hi bhaabhi chalibi je eita eka prakaara ra sikhya. Manisa habara ek dharma je jaaha bhabana ek samaya re tuma 'aham' ru bali jaae, taha ek prakaara ra atulaniya ebang swachha bhabana. Mun e payee dukhita nuhe je mora jibana re mun nija chada aao kahariku adhika bhabanatmaka roopa re dekhe ba gurutwa diye, mun dukhita ee payin je mora bhabana ra gurutwa se aara manisha ta bi jadi bujhe tebe mote kichi shaanti mili jiba. Kintu ek dharma santaka je, se manisha jadi chaahena je mote bhabishya re kashta heu, tebe se mora abahela by upekshya kari paare. 

Mun kebala aiya bujhi paare na je aemiti manushya ku mun aahuri bhala roopare dekhibi na sehipari upekhya kruta drushti re dekhi, mana ku maari aagaku badhi jibi jaaha ki mo bhabisya paayin bes bhala haba. 
Eha ek kashta dayaka parajyaaya..

Admixture...

They scream, not just speak...loud and nasty. For what?...well to prove a point. Yes, everyone does want to prove something to someone all the time. Very rarely to one's own-Self.

I am sick of listening to a lot of hullabaloo about a lot of things..relevant and irrelevant. It can start from feminism, to work ethics, to values, indulgence in a social bondage called marriage, trust of a friend, faith in God, being patriotic, being creative, breaking monotony, feeling responsible, alcohol, smoking, genetic disorders, political crises, cartoon of Ambedkar to Didi's Speeches, discussions on capitalism to ignorance of mankind, failure of relations to Darwinian evolution...whatever it is ...they just scream to prove a point and not just understand it in an honest way...I am sick of it. Its the curse of being a listener, someone who cannot ignore the voices or even if tries to, gets caught somewhere. That's a weakness I need to overcome. 


I am ignorant of many things in this world and I am working towards attaining a clarity in my attempts and thoughts. I respect those who respect their thoughts, value them , condition it with changing times and again change when required, basically for survival and the appreciation of one's existence. I smile at the mob who doesn't care what it speaks, but just speaks for the heck of it. And in turn advices me to follow them or even appreciate what it does!..I can't and I won't as far as its possible and manageable I surely won't. Yes, in my own right I might not be a rebel for others to see it but for me within, it might be a struggle every moment and I value that a lot and I am not accountable for any of it to anyone except myself. 

So the point is, if one really has to talk and convince, then the first person he should convince is himself and then comes the 'others'. If its for the sake of gaining importance, smoking and drinking to impress someone, reading and getting bored and unable to comprehend but still doing it to make someone else happy, claiming that he/ she is evolving without even considering what evolution means...then I dislike everything and everyone of such kind...I would do the same to myself if and when I fall into the category called Mob. I would just try keeping my hands and head above the ever sinking mob mentality till I am able to, till I belong to myself.

Moments

Only if I had the freedom to fly,

to touch you and cry..

to bury myself and die,

I would call you..

Fall and still Fly.

Only if I had the words 

to express, to scream...

I would love the moments,

memories and smile,

 Till I see them passing by

 Lost in the night sky!

Then and Now

 

"All that we are is the result of what we have thought" said Buddha.

I was just wondering what had happened all my life which means the years I have walked on this earth till now. Did I think anything before acting? Is the result actually because of my thoughts...my own or influence.

Phase one :

Typical parents. Discipline, study and study and study and learn what?..how to compete. Age...may be four. I did study and was very disciplined kid. Father loved it not because I was studying but because I was respecting him and abiding by rules. I remember, with every passing year then on, I was asked to excel with the promise of a reward. I actually never cared about those rewards but just blindly wanted to give what they wanted. Yes I was successful all the time except few when I was really sick and that I needed to compensate the next year. Yes I was a part of negotiation more than my childhood. I never knew it would grow bigger and bigger with my age.

Phase two:

Expectations and confusions. School, marks, painting, debate, extempore, quiz and basket ball. It was all there. But, there was no fun...it was routine, sometimes scolded by father for not putting enough effort on Mathematics and diverting time towards painting. Oh no..it wasn't true! I did maths and I painted too. But painting wasn't suppose to be there on my mind as painters don't stand first in there class and I had to!

It did make me think..think hard ..could I manage both?..Am I good at both or am I just following my parents out of fear...do I even know what I think. I think I knew. Age..may be fourteen and beyond. This was also the time when I had to feel that I belong to a specific gender which carries a lot of myth within and some undefined norms beyond which you were not allowed to see. I didn't care on lot of occasions. It did hurt my parents but the development of ego was at its best. 'I am giving you what you want, you leave me with my freedom'. I was an ideal child for the world, for parents too. Never retaliated until someone questioned my conviction and passion. I just wanted to be free. Not literally but mentally. It was a burden of my own stupidities and expectations. 

Phase three:

Bitterness and confidence at its best. Exams, fear, uncertainty, prestige issues with parents, my so called expected beautiful life turning into a mess. Not that bad as it sounds but with the notions and predefined career options as well as teachers expectations, became a hell lot of shit. I just wanted to run away, from parents, from all those who influenced my parents, especially father. I wanted to break out of my fear, wanted to prove a lot of things which my father knew I possessed but he wanted to see with his own eyes in his own way. I always thought that anyone who is good enough and knows that he/she can stand up for him/herself will always do good no matter what happens. But father didn't get the point. He had seen the best side of me which he thought was the best and it was wrong..it was just what he wanted me to be and what I showed him. I just stood for myself, spoke whenever needed. Watched my sick mother and did what he wanted before I could have my way and I knew I would have it someday. Its not about my freedom but just a phase where you fight against a lot of things including yourself..it passed but not so soon. I had to prove that I was good and It took few years for my father to get that into his conscience that I was the same ideal daughter. I grew stronger, focused, cared about none except myself and did best what I was doing. Lot of people came in, passed by. Few became friends for a long time and few just got erased from memory. I didn't care much and I don't care now. Age: early twenties.

Current Phase:

Run, get and run again. This phase is the best phase of my so called monotonous life...more so because I initiated a few things, continued a few and have the courage to terminates a few. Its a phase which I always was looking forward to. Its not about the freedom only or being away from parents. It has already been eight years being away from home. And I am not the home sick kind. Its about the freedom to realize freedom, to change perceptions, to question moments, to curse people, to curse yourself for being diplomatic, to  love yourself for being passionate for few things, to love others for they bring about a lost identity in  me, to care for those whom I thought I would never care for, to dislike the mentalities of many and actually speak about it, to do what I never wanted to do...to break inhibitions, to cry loud in a lonely room, to laugh my heart out with myself, to feel the essence of being a woman, to feel what I always ignored or rather was indifferent to. 

This phase is the most uncertain, decisive and strange one...yet beautiful. Every day a new question, a new dilemma, a sleepless night and a mundane lab..still poses threat...causes pain and makes me survive for another day. Career, relation or no relation, family, sick but strong mother, ever expecting but a great father, a loving and dependent, yet selfish brother and few unique friends...life has to show more and I think I would face it, not so weak woman I am...I know it. 

Maya

Maya sits there in one corner of her room. Holds a string, keeps pulling it, wants to stretch it without realizing that its just a string, it can't be stretched like an elastic! But she does try, every day and night with a dead hope that it will and that day she would sleep peacefully..

Its her thirtieth birthday. She wears the same gown she always wore on her birthday since her twenty-fifth. She hasn't put on weight in these five years, rather lost some..easily fits into the now over sized gown . Still holds the string, seems to be waiting for someone or something. A question on her mind, sometimes a void and sometimes a vicious smile while observing that strange string irritates me. What is she thinking! why hasn't things changed around her or its a deliberated effort to keep her surrounding meaningless. Don't know. She seems to wait for a call as the phone is at the corner of the room and she sits quite close to it. Every time there is a faintest sound, I can see a spark in her eyes. It dies even faster than her breathe. She never speaks about her gown or b'day or anything. I am curious as to why her name is Maya when she seems so dull. I may have to wait till she wants to speak up or she won't i don't know.


The phone rings on her thirtieth b'day at 11:50p.m. It rings for quite sometime till she picks it up, not allowing me to go for it. She is shocked at the continuous sound when it rings as if she had never heard a ring before. She has become weak, may be because she doesn't eat well and sleep well. She doesn't allow her parents to care for her and its a painful sight when they want to take her back to her bedroom and make her sleep. Seems like she doesn't belong to this world anymore. But now I see some lost enthusiasm in her when she holds the phone. I wait for her reaction after the conversation. But there is no conversation, she listens to someone puts back the receiver as if there was no call at all. 

She struggles to go back to her room but manages to reach the door. Again goes to the corner of her room, leaves the door open for me to see what is she upto. I watch and I just watch. She pulls the string, again..harder and it breaks. She cries, cries her heart out till she isn't able to anymore. A silence and then goes to her table, takes out a diary and a pen, scribbles something and tries to sleep. 'I knew you will never come back'..that's what she writes. I don't sleep that night, just watch her sleep. She sleeps because she has no reason to be awake, the reason for which she waited years is no longer there and she is tired. I watch her. I feel I am seeing myself, my own reflection. 


Maya on her 25th b'day wears a beautiful gown, waits for his call. The phone rings but its not him, its from a hospital and he is admitted, a stroke what he fights for. A partial paralysis and subsequent loss of memory. She knows what he is been doing. She was and is helpless, what she knows is she doesn't want to leave him at any cost. Maya meets him at the hospital. He smiles and tries to wish her. He gives her a string..a string he pulled out from one of her gowns when they were intimate, he had kept it close to him ever since. She takes it, identifies herself with it and says she will wait. She speaks without words that she will accept what's in-store and watches him as he sleeps. She doesn't sleep after that night. And today she sleeps like a child. 

I just hope she is alive or my hope is against hers..i don't know.