TICK TOCK, TICK TOCK

I looked up to the clock, five o’clock I counted. Its dials waved at me and digits said something too. Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock. Tick tock of time it was. They’ve witnessed and cremated several insanely happy hours and various poignant days. On some days this tick tock came bundled with hurt along with a pinch of unwelcomed and alienated twelve o'clock thoughts. And in that despicable moment you hated who you were. Or maybe, what you had grown into. This wasn’t what you had written on the back of your notebook at ten o'clock lunch in school many years ago. It wasn’t your face, which you couldn’t recognize after a grueling an hour long gaze into the mirror. Instead, this was the mask of time. This won’t stop chasing you and it won’t leave anyone else either. I look up to the clock once more. This is twelve o’clock again. But don’t be scared. Let me tell you this little episode of a couple of minutes. Some people across this desert have carved beautiful statues. Some are drenched in sweat. Some statues have stain of tears and some are dried by the time. The colors those people had were just grey and black. And the time they had was just a couple of hours. Maybe that wasn’t enough. But look what they’ve created. The glint in your eyes says that you like them and this story a bit. Can you imagine all this? Can you imagine all this as your story and you as the hero? You could be just the same. Inside you I see some dreams have lasted. Some fireworks are still to be played. And after all this tragedy, some friends are still unseen. An alarm has just started ringing somewhere. Maybe it’s your brand new cellphone. It’s eight o’clock. Wake up from this yawning sleep and swim towards the shore. Out of this bay of gloom there’s another world. Climb the stairs of tomorrow. The bright sun you liked has never been away. It’s been inside you, the whole time. And there’s another one just outside this tainted window. It’s just a couple of tick tocks away. A tick tock of time and a tick tock of courage.

Adarsh can also be found on fossBytes.com

DATE A GIRL WHO WRITES LETTERS

Date a girl who writes letters. Date a girl who shivers with excitement when she touches a letter. Date a girl who likes simple words, but understands meaning of the hesitant flow of your pen. Date a girl who gets fascinated by the way your fingers hold the pen and the way your fingers had moved on that piece of paper. 

 

Date her because she will write to you. She’ll be the girl who will tell you stories in her letters. Date a girl who writes letters because in her letters she will write poems, poems she never showed to anybody. Date her because she will also love lo listen to your stories. The girl who writes letters will leave everything behind and would listen to you. Tell her your problems, cry on her shoulder and eventually you will be fine. The girl who writes letters will know what to say when you’ll be low. You’ll soon realize that she is not an ordinary girl.

Date a girl who writes letters because she will listen to old classic songs with you on repeat till she meets herself living the song. Date her because she will cry during the movies with you. Date her because her favorite movie will be Forrest Gump. 

Date her because she will be with you even when she won’t be around. At night she will be with you, beneath your pillows, her letters will breathe life in you. That precious paper will keep you warm. You will have her picture in your phone or wallet, but you will always come back to her letters. While reading her letters, you will listen her voice. After some lines, she’ll laugh and in some lines she won’t say much. You will soon find out that she writes you from her heart.

Date her because when you’ll read her letters, she’ll be by your side. Her letters will tell you what dress she was wearing. Her letters will tell what she smelled like, what song she was listening, what was the color of her nail paint and what was she sipping while writing that letter.

On Sunday mornings turn off all alarms. Don’t wake her up. Make breakfast for her, include all those things she likes. With a tray full of love wake her up and look into her sleepy eyes. Capture her smile in your heart because it will the most precious smile.

Date a girl who writes letters to you. She will be the one who will have no hesitation in telling you what she would feel about anything. She will tell you about the things she would like about you as well as the things she won’t. She will tell you about your thin beard she likes and she will also tell you about your habit of rubbing your eyes which she hates. 

She’ll be like a book and some days she will be like a poem. When you’ll meet that girl, you’ll know what it is to know somebody. She will have envelopes and stamps of a thousand colors and she will send love in them. Her writing table will be all messed up but she will keep letters with ultimate care. And on some beautiful days she will forget to eat and drink, and will wait for your letter. 

Write small-small notes for her when she is around. Leave it at her table, hide them in her bag, keep them in her favorite books. And, you yourself hide behind the doors or curtains and watch her as she reads them and fall in love with her even more. Tell her about the first time you saw her, tell her about some surprise plan or tell her about her beautiful chin. Send her long texts when she is asleep at night and tell her I love you in different languages.

Date a girl who writes letters. Gift her books because such a girl will be madly in love with them. Books will make her love you even more. Stalk her on facebook or her Pinterest account and find out the writers or poets she likes. Give her Bronte, give her Dickens, give her Keats. Write poems for her. If you can’t write one, then make one up with no sense. She’ll love those ones too. 

Date that girl because she will be beautiful from the inside. She will know the meaning of love and will teach you more about it. Date her because she will be passionate about the things she loves. She will know on her own how much you love her but don’t take it for granted. Tell her each day how much you love her and make her realize that you’re the luckiest person in the world.

Some days she will write letters to herself. Those will be the days when she’ll be confused. When you see folds of skin on her forehead and a tensed smile, talk to her, hold her hands. Some days she won’t tell you what’s bothering her. But don’t leave her alone. Be with her. Sit beside her. After sometimes she’ll tell you what’s in her mind. Comfort her, make her feel appreciated, love her more.

Marry a girl who writes letters. Marry that girl because she’ll know that life is a beautiful song and she’ll lend her words to you and she’ll sing it with you. Marry that girl because just like a letter you’ll always find home. And instead of waiting for you, she will be with you on those roads. 

Don’t let such girl go because you won’t be able to forget her. Write a letter to a girl if she writes letters. Write her one as soon as you can.

Good Luck :)

Adarsh can also be found on fossBytes.com

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       

WILL YOU MARRY ME?

As children, we all have heard that story where there used to be a king and a queen. The prince charming is smitten by the beauty of our gorgeous princess, proposes to her in all drama, the princess consents to being a devoted wife for her lifetime; they marry and stay happily ever after. Happiness overdose, isn’t it? So for those who agree let’s give this age old story a modern twist. Here it goes, our 21st century prince too falls in love, a lot of times more than just once, but he doesn't always end up with his queen for a lifetime. Before you start judging him, let me tell you he is far from being disloyal and apostate. No, he is not double crossing it either, he just has his own priorities, the prince believes in standing on his own feet before anything else and earning his bread and butter himself. Surprisingly enough, in cases where he has a plush inheritance too. He places strong emphasis on the ties of blood and affinity, but doesn't really believe in wooing the clan of her princess to marry her, he does not need it’s approval. For him marriage is over rated. It’s not the sole propaganda of his life unlike his grandparents. He is more than glad with not marrying. For him, the ring does not define his relationship status, he is just happy with the concept of holding it but not having it, he does not want his identity to be fused with other’s. He believes in a man without a wife and vice versa. Wife or no wife, he’s a hero in his own ways, and the princess? Well, the prettiest of them all, while putting up her tiara secretly told me” If he’s good enough to marry, he’ll still be around when you are ready to make that leap.” Tch Tch, Tch ,problem, somebody?

A RAINY INDEPENDENCE DAY

It had rained a lot last night and I hardly had three hours sleep. At night it appeared as if the droplets which were falling in a strange orderly symphony were determined to erase everything and greet everyone with a new sunrise, happier than ever. The reluctant sunrise in the morning brought the 68th anniversary of Indian Independence and today all over the country people celebrated it in their own manner. 67 Independence days have come and gone and 68th one too shall pass. The National Flag will be again folded and preserved with utmost care for upcoming national festivals. The patriotic songs being played by the people in schools and homes and radio stations will be again forbidden. The characters of the patriotic skits too will have to wait for months to meet the new actors trying to look and talk and act like them.  My friends and I will again wait for a year to watch ‘Rang De Basanti’ together. The Facebook and Whatsapp profile pictures will again look forward to another occasion for getting a chance to say hello to our tricolor. And this blog too will have to wait. 

Those raindrops from last night pretended to know how to keep everything in order and calm me down. And they did it without mimicking any beautiful human face. When I woke up rubbing my eyes, I had a bad taste in my mouth and I desperately wanted to go outside. I checked messages and texted a couple of friends. Then I got ready, on my way I looked up in the sky and watched the sun which was trying its best to melt big lumps of clouds. I went to college and watched our national flag being hoisted by our Director. He gave a short speech and my college mates sang a couple of nice songs. And then again came the rain. Everything was wrapped up quickly and everything was over with a happy feeling inside. There was a signing board placed to write messages for our soldiers. We read all the messages aloud. My friend from Delhi wrote a few lines in Hindi which she said her mother had taught her. We saw some messages written in languages other than Hindi and English. So, my friend from Patiala wrote a message in Punjabi.

All this reminded me of the times when I was in school. All the anticipation and innocence got somewhere misplaced in the practice of growing up. Back then I’d dress up early in the morning in white P.T. uniform and my Dad would take me to the school. As we approached the school, I was able to hear those patriotic songs from ‘Manoj Kumar’ movies. Everyone would buy small-small paper flags from the vendors outside the school. And then I’d roam around for sometimes with my friends. Then there would be speeches, songs, skits and what not. As I returned from the school, I felt a bit different. There was some fanatical emotion I would get. And this feeling too continued to taste a taste of erosion each upcoming year. 

As I sit and reflect upon things and try to write this bit, I look outside. The clouds give an impression of being half sad and half reluctant. Sun is making apologies once again. It isn’t pouring and it’s not even sunny. Likewise there is a lot of mix-up and lack of direction all around. 

I wish I could witness and write about the India our forefathers imagined and dreamed about. I wish I could write all good things which should’ve existed and about my own more than negligible contribution. I wish I was there. Moreover, I wish we all were there to witness our country gaining independence and the unparalleled love and sacrifice of freedom fighters. I wish I was able to write myself into those moments when we celebrated our first independence day.

We are burdened by corruption, crime, poverty, inequality, terrorism, religious differences and countless types of divisions. Also, our country has achieved some tremendous milestones and it is the largest democracy on earth. We’ve accomplished a lot in space, defense, IT sector and many more. We may not be the best, we may be frustrated but we are moving ahead, we are solving our problems and we are raising our voices. 

Whenever the criticism is extensive, optimism takes birth. It impartially keeps the soul and the faith alive and in this process negativity has to be overruled. Let’s not forget the freedom fighters by forgetting them the very next day, August 16th. Let’s make India a better place to live. Let’s improve ourselves and our surroundings. Let’s decide our priorities and spread love and compassion. 

Happy Independence Day!

Jai Hind!

Adarsh can also be found on fossBytes.com