Celebrating Anger !

        Its about a couple of days back , I actually got a slap from one of my friends for giving some critically rude and disrespectful replies to some people.Though the treatment I was giving was a very well deserved one , but I don't even remember the last time I did that. I don't think any of my recent friends would ever identify me as someone who is rude or has issues with her temper ,but yes I did , so much so that controlling it counted as one of my New Year Resolutions for quite some years. Despite the fact of being a Chatterbox most of the times , I actually would very stubbornly keep my mouth shut for days ,replying to the least ,and if I did it would only be something extremely rude. They thought I was arrogant, but honestly I somewhat enjoyed something building inside ,something very powerful.This anger , reasons for which could be the smallest of all the small things , got lost with the time to come.
        I don't know how much right it is to say but I actually miss that anger inside. I don't know if I should have behaved the rude way I did , and neither do I know if I should admit , but yes,it surely felt better after doing so .I am not quite sure if I want this thing defined as a Negative Emotion dominating my personality again , but somewhere I do realize how important it is sometimes to feel this aggression. I don't intend to ignore the negativity this thing brings about , but I cannot refrain from accepting that many a times the same anger has helped me do things I never imagined I could have .One has to accept that anger breaks boundaries that we think we have . Shelving hypocrisy to the best possible extent , I'l say I actually enjoy giving a tit for tat and I would certainly love to return a fist for one.How much of it is violence , I care not .I know it makes very little sense, but somewhere down the line it gives me a feeling of being carefree. I've thrown my cell phone a hundred times out of anger , and each time the scratches it got brought a sense of regret. But more than the regret I'l chose to acknowledge how powerful anger is. Would  I in even the slightest of my sense ever do that ? How exactly a second's anger be enough to kill all the sense we have ? .I chose to neglect how much aggression seems responsible for what we call violence , but am pretty sure not all aggression leads to that. My parents or teachers would be utterly astonished to take such a thing coming from me. I don't know how much of all this is morally correct but yet again I chose to keep the sense of morality away and just keep writing something that I assume is coming from nothing but anger itself . The anger of not possessing the same aggression I once did .
      Was aggression ever a driving force / motivation for me ? Yes it was . Had it not been for anger , would I ever had had the courage to shout at a group of those street guys in the middle of the road for that misbehavior ?  Is it not anger , that now and again has reminded us that suffering is something we ought not undergo ? Yes I did make one of those New Year Resolutions a reality,but shouldn't I be brave enough to accept that what I've also been successful in ,is curbing the much necessary energy in me. Do I miss that Aggression ? Do I want to be giving more of those not so pleasant replies back , Yes I do. Should I be hesitant to accept that ? Not sure! Sure anger does make one lose self , but is that not what we all want sometimes? 

Transience

A blink of the eye , and it's gone .
Gone if really ? It's existence but a con !

Memories you call them , or the past
Meant to be treasured , The Impossible to last.

Shaking off some beliefs , building a few
Shaping a new You , another morning dew.

The Positive we believe ,
Call it optimism or escapism beneath.
With the flow, we learn to breathe,
Fearing how this time  might treat .

Soon it glitters quite bright ,
Fear turning to hope that lights .
All that glimmer sure soon dies ,
But not before our closing eyes.

Yet another blink , yes it was
And soon it is all over Gone!

SwatKats

    And why they call Grab the opportunity ! An opportunity that took me through a journey. A journey that had its moments , and moments that turned into memories. Another busy month , days that counted and a step higher. 

    Leadership was a very general term I had learnt to define long back in school . An unhesitating blabber of this daily used high school term , in the most confident manner , was what I suppose got me into AIESEC. This journey has only put me in a better position to mock the previous me , having got to actually experience the term now.You never know how small things teach things unless you've noticed the big changes in even smaller duration of time. Pushing myself (the lazy girl,I can proudly say I "used to be") , and expanding my limitations I realized how vague the term seemed at the end of it. The marked difference of things on paper and being there , doing what needs to done when all those paper work fail ~ From the planner to do doer !All my summer days I had sat back thinking where exactly I had lacked last year (apparently after a terrible year academically )and it had appeared to be exactly the above stated difference.

    Lead - Yes, something I thought I had done in high school , a quarter of the school under me with me as the House Captain . A much smaller number to lead this time ,but these were the people of my age ,some even my friends- to lead and yet to not make them followers was a task .It begun with a lot of hiccups , but happily ended up with increasing the count of friends.There was much more than just the so called lessons of life .On a personal note ,tears outnumbered smiles, but then they have always been able to touch more deeply. Tears that rolled sometimes , in front of strangers after a messed up day to those in front of the same strangers turned friends after a good one..Also tears that were pushed back after the ugly fights with still the same strangers then turning friends.

   I don't care if a thousand other platforms could offer me the same opportunity that AIESEC does , I still would go on to brag how special it is. I begun with calling this experience a journey ,the possibility that only it makes.A journey coz I know where I begun from and where I've come , a journey coz I traveled, and shared , with people for whom small things do matter . A journey that took off with me in a closed shell never wanting to share and has come to me actually writing this on a public forum.One that begun with me forcing my members to come on time and ended up with them reaching even before me. The biggest smile on my face comes seeing each one of them transform , and that I would call as the beginning of anything close to leadership in me. 

The Kgp I hadn't seen before

Third week of June , early monsoon and the perfect blend of wet dark bark and fresh new sprouting leaves . With a hundred less heads around me it was still  brimming over with life ~The Kgp I had never seen before . From the late 2 a.m walks to early morning rounds in Tata Sports Complex for the NSO , I thought I had known enough of this place , from the road that connected Nalanda to the ECE Department to the one beyond the TechM , I had walked parallel to the boundary of our mighty campus. Strikingly different was what I came across during my 2 day stay this time.


Had the electric poles disappeared ? Or did they even exist before in the first place ? Did I see a balloon, with a knife attached ,hanging on a wire across the 2.2 , I made rounds of almost daily ? And wasn't that balloon supposedly of some fest I should have seen much much before . If only I wasn't blind folded !

 Some trees looked mystically beautiful .Overrated it may sound , but the branches spread across aesthetically , as if each telling some story and reminding me how our campus was indeed some 60 years old .Something as simple and norm as a gum tree outside the Cryogenic Department aroused interest in me. I had sat under that tree a couple of times before , but it had always been just another tree and not a gum tree.










The most surprising was this piece of art on ground near the Vidhan Chowk . How could I miss this one !

Yes the mighty picture it had been always, and how the small little things got ignored in the way . Sadly ,it was the last few hours of my stay when I realised that I had been seeing what was no less than Invisible to me till now. Nevertheless it was a great feeling , walking on the familiar lines and yet something or the other coming as a surprise .The two days I walked with my eyes open !

And you know you've had a special birthday when

• Birthday celebration continues on the next day . with me getting only a 4 hour sleep on my birthday .
• Its not even 12 and calls start coming , with a friend already on phone and not letting you put him on hold. Everybody wants to be the first one to wish . It strikes 12 and before anyone , my sister gets to be the first one :D
• Its 12 something and your mother's stuffing your mouth with coffee,almond,choco chips Kwality Walls as your hand's busy holding the phone with calls pouring from friends .
• Your father takes a day off to come visit you . 2 a.m he reaches with your brother and a special chocolate sandesh (my favorite ) from Calcutta. 
• Of all the expected wishes , the biggest , your crush drops you a birthday wish ;)
• You go off to sleep with a smile , to wake up knowing two of your college friends are outside your gate , having come a 7 hour train journey :) . "Your house is somewhat yellowish " he had to say to convince me on the phone. It was a big surprise , I couldn't stop asking them "how " and telling my mother " yes I did give them my address but was not expecting more than a gift ! "  
• One of your besties shouting at the other , thinking he hurt me on my birthday .
• Your juniors call you up to wish ( and its best not to save phone numbers ; its best when somebody unexpectedly calls you )
• Your friend has done some online photoshop card kinda thing for you , and an old friendship-turned-crush-turned-friendship-turned-cold-war guy who's not even in your friend list likes that photo .
• You are in a gift shop , and your 10 year old friend asks you to pick a gift ; and you chose a bookmark .
• You cut a rasgulla instead of cake , for you have eaten way too much on the previous day .
• You have things ,that if written here , would surely get you a spoilt tag 3:)
• Being an insomniac for the past 6 months you finally get a sound sleep at 11:30 p.m. ;)

The Good , The Bad , The Ugly

         I was sitting idle , my hand recklessly scrolling on the mouse and eyes on the laptop screen . This being my daily routine for weeks now , and stagnant my life. Sleeping the extra hours to kill time , my messenger showing me online far more than ever , my brain's been practically dormant with me being unable to recapitulate on my life. Forget about my future , I fail to comprehend even my present. I have been no less than a  nomad in the world that exists in my head . To make things pathetic, even that seems vague .
        Am interrupted ( that's more than welcome ) by a phone call , "Avani" the caller id flashes ,she being an old friend I have broken all records of talking on the phone with. Skipping all sorts of formal and even informal greetings ,I jump to cursing her for being in I-don't-know-in-which-world for so long.While most of us went out of Ranchi for higher education ,she chose to stay here . The very fact , helping the least in being in touch.It is a moment , a-no-need-to-TRY-to-start-a-conversation moment. As we talk , the whole first year of my college life sums up in front of me. The difference comes clear right between her and me , between what I was an year back and what I am now !
       It was after the 12th boards ,no one of us knew what exactly we wanted from life , where exactly our next step would take us , all we knew was our quest for exposure and experiences. Two years hence, I can actually see myself spelling the word .Going back to the my first vacation , Changes were profoundly visible. Everybody at home talked about it , about the confidence , that missing hesitancy , the above-what-others-might-think attitude . The easier changes gets noticed (and also appreciated) , the quickly one gets accustomed to them. Habituated to the new ME , I stood in front of this crossroad . neither knowing where it would lead me to nor where I came from. The latter still awaits its answer, while the former just got one as I put down the phone. And this is why my daily chats with this classmate or the other acquaintance is nowhere close to an hour's talk with an old friend.
   
 

  Memories of my first year appeared like the unsolved jigsaw pieces , those that now frame the perfect picture . I might not remember of how we landed up watching a movie in the train engine outside Nehru or when I made this new friend or how many classes I bunked or for that matter the number of Physics classes that I did attend  . But each and every day counted . I had never been busier before ,never had conversations that mattered more ,never felt like taking a responsibility , never seen myself fall and rise up so soon . It was never before that experiences existed more in the real world than my imagination. I hardly remember having dreams in Kgp , reality had a lot more happening.Clouded with so many "things" , I had little time to see where the flow of incidents was taking me , meanwhile I made my share of mistakes , frankly a little more . Mistakes that I don't regret , for after three years of following a goal set up by I don't know who ,and still having that big question mark of my life , following nothing makes no difference now.
       With  the Good , - the memories , lessons , experiences , growth and change , the Bad -Grades that I (as of now) don't regret much , comes the Ugly . The bitter truth that one day I might have to repent for the Bad and regret for the excess of Good. The deep hidden question of me doing what in the top institute of India . The ugly fact of everything appearing blur to my eyes now . The girl who was thirsty for the exposure has got one , and its time to get some new goals set,those that can clear the blur . Its time the experience I got paves the path for new ones to come.

World in a grain of sand , Heaven in a wild flower

It's 4:24 by the clock . I don't remember the last time looking at this accessory ,hanging on the wall ,so closely and not rounding a :24 as a :25. This otherwise prosaic thing suddenly seems to be utmost absorbing at the moment. Watching the needle tick, I think - am I really counting each second or rather a sixty of them . Minutes we count, seldom do we seconds,just like the bigger picture getting the notice while its brush strokes finding the eyes of few . Entering what we call a practical world,  how i began destroying "My" moment as the past's outcome and the future's beginning. With the thought of every small thing adding up to an eventual future I wouldn't notice the magic of the present . Here I was , a timid girl who feared saving her precious present in awe of everything becoming just a past someday .A past that might not be significant at all eventually  , a past that would eventually become just another brush stroke ."Eventually ", Oh how, the word ,I wish would not be exploited so much !
 I  watched an amazing movie today.Like most of my favourites, it was a story that didn't begin with a past or end in a future. The hundred and twenty odd minutes were touching , would it touch equally had I seen some thousands of minutes of the bigger picture ? Would it then be as easy for me to find magic in this small , let impotent-in-the-long-run story ? Probably not ! It was a mistake to confuse significance with being potent , the true significance  actually lies in the magic. Depressing it is ,as how my outlook would define whether a thing would or not be special. And depressing it is how I have been doing the latter,  failing to notice and save the charm of what does not have a future before it starts to have one . Just to live the moment is not enough , reliving it would do so much better , only if I had the memories , only if I considered creating my moment as a memory .And then would my World be, in a grain of sand , and Heaven in a wild flower .

Coming out of the shell ..

It's about the first year of my school after the nursery classes . My friends keep talking of days back then , I  hardly have three incidents to remember .But those incidents are more vivid than most of the fresh memories  . The clarity is such, that sometimes I doubt if they are but stories that I've been weaving in my head since all these years .

Wishing on the Dandelions - The one with the dragonflies.

It's the lunch break . While everybody seems to be playing in the playground , which is conveyed through the shouts and shrieks and cries and laughter , I happen to sit in this aloof zone , invisible to the others . It was just an extended part of the playground where others didn't come, and not some totally different territory I then thought. Sitting beside me is a girl. We aren't friends yet , reason being - unlike me , am not the only one she knows here .Our parents knew each other , and we were asked to stay together  , probably why she's here and not with the new people she had just met. I am staring at these dragonflies around me ,why I love coming to this place. They aren't colouful like the butterflies . But what I am seeing is far more beautiful and beyond the flies. These dragonflies remind me of my brother and my friends back home , and how every afternoon we used to chase them. Stopping as they did , trying to be motionless, patiently waiting for them to settle and then swift would go our fingers on their tails. It was not often when we got hold of them ,even less frequent for me , but if we did , we would go boasting about it and telling tales of our huge accomplishment to all the elderlies. I hated my school , and this used to be my escape zone. I was , and still am , bad at ganging up or even making friends. I take time to open up , and so did the school to open up to me.

Making your presence felt - Recognition is a huge word !

Our teacher has asked us to draw a boy from our textbook. I am no artist , but just like others am giving my best shot to impress her . (Oh how much it mattered to be the Teacher's Favorite then ! ) Everybody's looking at each other's drawing , commenting on them as also giving their expert advises , while the nasty ones don't forget to showcase their supremacy over others. Politics is everywhere. Even in a kindergarten school! This reflected in how most of them had praises but for the Popular's ,those that also happened to be the teacher's favorites. I try to peek at one of the likes , the one's who used to sit in the same group as I did. Mine may not be as good as hers,I think , but there are a lot others , going unrecognized , that can give her a tough competition . Mine is not bad either.I am upset.Not for the fact that nobody has praises for me , but because no one even bothers to check my drawing. It's time for submissions , headed by The populars , I am called by my teacher as are the other reluctant ones.For a surprise , am welcomed by some appreciation by her. Adding to that she displays my drawing to the whole class.I now know it must have been an act of encouragement but nonetheless I was still being noticed .It was my FIRST time .Girls are looking at me if I am a newbie ,they sure mustn't have noticed me before.Later one of those Populars calls me to sit beside her .She's is looking at my drawing . I can see her glaring eyes , those that haven't yet known to hide jealousy  !

The Rain of Harvest - Beginning of a new friendship.

It's a rainy day , we are all looking outside the windows as water sweeps it. More than the sight , I like the sound of the droplets hitting the ground and the roofs. A constant typical noise that it produces ,or should I call  a disturbance ,with the dark clouds veiling the sun,  we never studied during the heavy rains . Today we are having those regular shuffling of seats,our teacher did ,to ensure everybody knew everybody else .I am standing on one corner curiously waiting for my new bench and  benchmate .I have no choices , though I want a girl like me.Till now I didn't have a best friend , I was seeking at it as an opportunity to make one .Luckily I get a nice girl who atleast isn't a snob , which would otherwise had been a strict resentment. The one  I am replacing is sent to another corner of the room. I start talking to my new benchmate , and I quite like her.I am smiling, for I can see my new best friend in her. Soon I hear of how the one I replaced has started crying. I get to know that these two were best of friends.I am unsure of what to do , everybody seems to be blaming me , but the teacher remained unmoved .I am no longer talking to her . I am disappointed, she already has a best friend , I don't think I will ever get to be her best friend. I start looking at the rain again.

I don't remember what happened next but in the years to come , by that I mean the next 13 years she was my closest friend , my secret keeper .

From an indirect victim

From the columns of newspapers to group discussions among students , new penal codes to old stories being shuffled, we had it all . The Delhi Gang Rape case had the nation's attention. Everybody had their saying , but sadly I din't have much to express except anger .But indeed it was for the first time I felt for an incident of this kind ,even though it wasn't something new.I'd known plenty of those unheard local stories that fail to get a notice on the national front, atleast this one did.
My mother had her saying too , those that were being implemented as restrictions on my timings for being back home.I remember arguing with her on why we girls were being victims, not only by some shames of the society but infact by the society as a whole. Is the incident not unjust enough ,that instead of the guilty we are being asked to give up our freedom and rights? I got  a simple counter back- I just want my daughter to be safe. I had won the argument but had to give up to her eventually .
Four months hence I get to read these girl child rape cases , and sadly two being from my city . My disgust has reached another level. But its more than the disgust ,why even I have my saying today.Sure the Delhi Case had aroused anger in me but somewhere it had failed to impact me personally. But today, I can sense a feeling of fear within  , a  sense of insecurity .I was imagining myself as being one of those victims, something only my mother had been doing till now.The girl who was adamant on coming back home the same time as her brother did , no more needs someone else putting restrictions on her .The girl who questioned on the WHY of being a victim feels ashamed to see herself succumbing to the whole thing - (just) for her safety .

The Useless Laughs

Noise or A Deep Silence ? 
An expression or a veil ? 
Useless , and yet SO meaningful,
Useless , and yet the ONLY thing meaningful (sometimes.)

avoiding the strike offs .

While writing on the first page of a fresh notebook, I just realized how “made up” my words were , as if to avoid the STRIKE OFFS I even compromised with the errors. I wonder if that’s what we do with ours lives, going the safe way, so that looking back we find it neat and clean , that gives us and others an impression of it being perfect . But if life really was perfect , living it but the Real Way !

Heart VS Mind

       We all come across this ” Listen to your heart ” . What it stimulates in my mind is not a solution to any problem, as the statement is supposed to do but rather a confusion . What after all is the voice of the heart . If at all there is a difference between our heart and mind ? Of so many voices that come from within , to concentrate and listen to one is already so big a task and on top of it tagging it as coming from the heart or the mind is something i’v never understood.
        Is anything ,that can be labelled as logical or reasonable ,the voice of the mind , and anything that’s just absurd, out of the world, logic less, making no sense could  then be the thing coming from the heart. If voices could such easily be distinguished why not just do something irrational instead of getting into the terms of heart and mind after all .If something emotional is to be termed coming from the heart -oh how can that be , emotions driven by hormones - hormones driven my brain !
       The basic thought that builds this confusion is that we humans are the cunniest .Most of us want to go the right way , the way our conscience allows and to go this right way our very cunning brain can make the ugliest things so beautiful. Our brains know it best how to satisfy our conscience. We start thinking , reasoning and justifying things so brilliantly ,so much so that our inner self starts to live with this thought.And what happens inevitably is that this thought - originated in the brain - has finally created a niche for itself in the heart .And now we term this as the voice of the heart.So is the voice of the heart and the mind not the same thing then? One stimulating the other and vice- versa .
      And so it happens many times , voices come and i do listen to them actually ,understanding little if am going by my mind or heart. My friend says he sees me as someone who listens to the heart .Okay so I listen to my heart and i don’t even know what it is like listening to the heart, my actions are in fact never driven by any voice for that matter. Sure i do listen to a lot of those , and failing to understand any bit of it i do something that’s as spontaneous as just calling “maa” by a kid when he falls down . If this is what people call the voice of the heart , why do we just have to overrate it .Why are the simplest things the most overrated ones? This surely is something that need not be taught. And this surely is something i need not be cracking my head for.But if this friend of mine has this total wrong concept of “listening to the heart ” ,which makes his judgement of me a wrong one, only my heart knows if either it , or my mind was speaking when i was listening to the VOICE ! (what ,by the way,is this VOICE ? )

How Does Terror Unite ? Candle marches ? ah ! that's something I've always mocked at!

There is this girl , I didn't really like much. Nothing wrong ever happened between us, yet somehow her habits repelled me. Staying in the same wing , we had those initial formal "passing by" smiles, that too became an easily forgotten habit soon.

      21st feb -The day of multiple bomb blasts in Hyderabad.

      I was trying to sleep in my room , when I heard a Telugu voice conversing on phone outside .The voice was similar , I had heard it many times , though what  i could listen now was totally different. The voice was hers, and she was crying. For some reason the repulsion ceased to exist . I had this strange urge to just go and stand beside her. Honestly , not like a friend , but still just stand beside her .I waited for her to put down the phone but meanwhile i didn't realize when i dozed off.The next day i went to her room . We talked. This was the first time I went to her room to talk , even though her's is a '309' and mine a '311'.

      Today we smile at each other when we pass by , and now its not fake. Terror Unites. And How! It not only lights up the candles in marches but bondings too. She hasn't changed , nor has her habits , but that voice changed things. A voice that seemed weak that day , was strong enough to build a new bond. And now I know how terror unites.

P.S - This girl never knew that i didn't like her , but now she does. She hugged me after reading this. :)

NonSense

Am holding this pen.. so many random thoughts floating in my mind and yet nothing in particular to pen down.Television running in the background , sure noise does block our head. So i move to this empty room , i choose not to switch on the lights.Am still pondering on what to write .The darkness and the silence doesn’t seem to do any better . I wonder if its the dearth of thoughts or their overflowing that has put me in short of words. So i did write something all this while - only to strike it off later. The brainstorming goes on. And i can now literally sense a blockage in my brain and i talk to myself ” I cant write a sentence now and i call myself spontaneous ” .. (and I don’t mean the talking that goes in the head , mine refers to the literal talking done through mouth . If you haven’t tried this then you are so sane  .) Okay so now that "me trying to act so thoughtful and thinking a hundred times before writing" isn't working I decide to go my natural way .

Nonsense and senseless - whats the difference. Well you don’t know unless you’ve actually spoken or written either. I call my type the “nonsense” type. I had this steel rod practically in my hand for the whole day ,making different noises with it,playing with its shadow by tilting it in different angles,and being a possessive kid I did bring this new toy to my bed only to sleep with it. It is so nice to be wasting time after all.If I was really wasting time , don’t really think so. Sure it was something stupid as my sister called it, all the while sitting beside me,laughing ,commenting and shouting at me not do that . Now ,was I actually enjoying the rod making noise or was it my sister’s noise that actually made me doing that again and again.A big Continuous Smile   - that's what it brought ,the way she got irritated , the way she tried to act this smart grown up reminding me that people around could get hurt with my bashing of the rod and calling me “stupid”. Little did she know that who was actually the smarter one !Now this is like talking about things that don’t make sense for sometimes making sense is so not important - nonsense i call this. (touch wood i haven’t lost that spontaneity, I finally did write something out of nothing..) ..

Spontaneous I've always been , though i never thought I’d actually go to the extent of taking some really important decisions without even giving a thought. It so happens sometimes that you just feel like doing something. It may not make any sense ,you try calculating the pros and cons but you get none - for all that’s inside your head is not a thought but a mere urge to do something, backed by no reasoning ,no logic. The other day I was thinking about choices . I’ve been this kid who goes to the shop , and not getting the desired object chooses “the better ” of the lot. I now feel ,was I really choosing something or was i just accepting the best choice (option in true sense) available. Choosing in real sense would be in between choosing to buy at all or not. The way i “chose” , it did guarantee me things but perhaps it wasn’t the true choosing indeed. And these small things reflect so much of how we actually take decisions in our life. Probably the decision I took was driven by this urge of finally acting different , of finally making a real CHOICE . Somehow the ‘other me’ says - “oh com’on stop acting intellectual and giving the "high school taught" reasoning to justify yourself.You were but playing with your life - something you do so often to satisfy your boredom”. For the better or the worse I’l bring this change .. and by my choice !

I mentioned this ” other me ” , wondering if people around me feel the same. I feel it so often ,two and sometimes more people residing inside me . I even fail to recognize who I really am .It's only when i am in a crowd and I suddenly realize that this is not where I belong . But of course I chose to be there and the crowd was the people I chose to be around. Perhaps somehow the ‘I’ changes  that gives me the feeling of being in an unknown world. Sometimes I fear if there has been one single place where I’ve actually belonged.Adding to these fears - is that of being a hypocrite - for existing in a place where you really don’t belong has some hypocrisy behind. Choosing to be ‘somewhere’ , acting to be ‘someone’ ! One place where I truly belong to is the world that exists in my thoughts.Am not sure whether to call it belonging or rather owning it.Sometimes I dwell so much into it - taking me far from the reality, and i talk to myself , creating a second person in my imagination and the “other me” being the audience and goes on the dialogue . Now this talking is the one I talked of in the beginning.

 I came back to where i begun ,a lot of those thoughts out now . From no where to this nth line there’s been quite a lot of nonsense. Nonsense for there was hardly a word that could present a clear idea. Nonsense because there is no sort of continuity or relation.Nonsense to the readers who might thing - there’s so much of ‘I’ - self obsessed. Nonsense for its just the floating thoughts - thoughts that make sense today but may not tomorrow. Thoughts that have no concrete origin but my imagination, and imagination just ceases to exit any random day and so will these thoughts.Nonsense for the next day the ‘other me’ will look at it , laugh out loud and say “NonSense !” just as I’ve been doing when I read what i wrote years back.