Cosmic Intervention

14.1.2020

One day, when it all comes to an end,

Maybe there’ll be peace at last.

Maybe there will be light again

In the world that had become dark.

With aliens called pain and sorrow,

That race had made its mark.

It will be called the apocalypse

By the race who knew no better.

The very same species that shuttered

Life out of every crevice and break

Till the planet had no more to give

And that race had no more to take.

They talk of another asteroid

That will one day come

And wipe out all signs of life.

But that race seems not to know,

That Life – with compassion and respect,

Was wiped out long ago.

Some say there may be fire,

Others say it will be a sweeping wave.

What if it were neither but instead

Just a clearing up of waste?

Or perhaps there are wiser beings

Who have watched us all along,

As we destroy our home, our mother,

The land where we belonged.

And what if it were actually a plan

To subdue an enemy and save a land?

We’ll know that day.

The day when it all comes to an end.

The day we are all fighting against,

Ignoring and praying in alternation.

We will know where we stand,

On the day of cosmic intervention.

If I Had A Superpower

13.1.2020

Disclaimer: This piece of writing doesn’t end with a moral; it’s just abstract thought and maybe some bizarre add-ons.

If I had a superpower, it would not be the ability to fly because I have an irrational fear of heights. To the extent that I sit ramrod straight in flights and stand ramrod straight in lifts as if waiting for something to happen; and hold my breath when crossing bridges, however steady they may be.

But, as several people have pointed out to me, if flying was my superpower, I’d be so good at it that I would not need to be scared at all. As logical as that may be, I shall rule that one out as a possible superpower for me.

Instead I shall consider invisibility, not as a removable item like Harry’s Cloak, but something inbuilt that will spring to effect when I need it. But, I must not ignore the limited possibilities I have. The most I can do while being invisible is overhear conversations or spook people. I’d be less likely to do the latter, because I know I’d hate it if someone did that to me.

Being able to read minds or hear thoughts sounds like something I would pick. Then I would be able to prevent so many misunderstandings and arguments. Also, facades or pretenses would not deceive me; I’d be able to see the person for what they actually are.

The downside of course, is that I would be privy to all the thoughts people have, some of which are kept private for a reason.

A healing ability would be nice. I could then cure incurable diseases. But then if I really wanted to put my powers to use and cure everyone, I’d have to also be able to either be in multiple places at once or be able to teach others my skills.

Time control sounds the most exciting, where I can control time by making it go faster or slower if I want. Susan Sto Helit, a character from Terry Pratchett’s Discworld series had this power; she used to make time stop (and freeze the people around her) so she could clear up messes or prevent calamities.

Telekinesis- the ability to move objects at a distance by mental power - also sounds very interesting. From whatever little I have read about this in fantasy novels, I understand you can control any element, influence any force and manipulate any physical action. This means you can not only move objects or read thoughts, you can kill cancerous cells in bodies and influence a cricket game even while sitting hours away.

Since it sounds like all the powers put together, I’m picking this. Now I shall quickly sign off before all the downsides of telekinesis start coming to mind.

Why I Study Psychology

12.1.2020

Anyone who knows me knows I love English Literature, therefore so many must have wondered, why I chose to study Psychology as well. At least, I think people must have asked these questions. If you never even had such a thought (which is the likelier case), then kindly humour my eccentric swelled head, and just say you did.

I know I did mention, when you asked me, that I thought the two subjects complemented each other and now, for your benefit (and possibly to your exasperation), I shall explain what I meant.

I always felt that reading opens new doors and makes you aware of the world you live in and the people who live in that same world. Reading also shows you reality while giving you different realities at the same time. Studying Literature then became inevitable, because I couldn’t pass over a subject that required me to read for hours everyday, now, could I?

Before you ask, no, I am not digressing; I’m just building up to what I actually intend to say and that is: that though I decided to study Psychology on a whim, before long I found myself connecting both subjects to each other. I began to understand Literature like never before just after a few classes of Psychology.

Earlier, I always maintained that literature had a lot of Psychology in it; that Literature had bits of everything in it – it was a pot-pourri of sorts. I used to say that Shakespeare had already dealt with phenomena that psychologists studied and did experiments about only later.

Well, I wasn’t wrong, but I realized later that Psychology was present throughout my journey with Literature, not exactly third wheeling but looking on like some sort of omnipresent fairy godmother.

While studying Literature, while trying to understand the characters I encountered, I was using certain methods and reasoning that later I found in my Psychology textbook! That moment of discovery is still very vivid in my mind.

As to why this whole train of thought that you have just read (if you could sit through it, that is) makes sense to me, all I can answer is that in the pursuit for knowledge I have found, things may add up together or may fall apart or the most unlikeliest of combinations make sense and once it does, you wonder why you thought it wasn’t possible.

Fantasy as a Realistic Genre.

11.1.2020

Everyone who reads or has read will have come across fantasy novels at some point in their lives; so there’s no use denying it. If you do, I’ll know.

Some of the popular ones you definitely had to have encountered are Alice in Wonderland, the Harry Potter Series, the Lord of the Rings trilogy, and the Narnia series. If not these, at least some books by Enid Blyton such as the Faraway Tree series or the Wishing Chair series.

Since I cannot resist mentioning some of my personal favourites, let me get it over with quickly. I have some terrific memories of reading (and rereading) literary gems like The Name of the Wind, The Wise Man’s Fear, Night Circus, the Discworld series, His Dark Materials and Neverwhere. Now we can proceed.

Fantasy is defined as imaginative fiction that involves adventure and magic, in an alternate universe or in a non-existent place in this universe. It is also called escapist fiction because we often turn to this genre for a momentary escape from reality.

This is true in many cases; I shall not dispute individual experiences. However, as a voracious reader myself, I have found that all fiction serves as an escape if and when you need one. And just as all fiction, at the same time, provides clarity, fantasy does too. Several times, I have taken refuge in a book, only to find that whatever I was running away from earlier, suddenly made sense to me.

Another reason why I would contest the common perception of my favourite genre is because it is often wrongly called far-fetched. Firstly, going by the dictionary definition of the word, I would say that the point of fantasy is to exit limits and transcend worlds and imaginations.

Also, I have found that it does take immense courage and skill to be able to navigate one’s way around a fantastical piece of writing, as its author. Firstly, you have to be able to remember the various new worlds you have created and all their tiny details. Second, putting bizarreness on paper and then holding your head high is no mean feat; one really needs to believe in what one is writing.

Lastly, life imitates art and art imitates life. And this applies to the genre of fantasy as well. Who’s to say what the so-called “unrealistic” or “crazy” books suggest couldn’t be happening to us right now?

The Need for Perspective.

10.1.2020

I first encountered this word during an art class, where I was being lectured on the single dimension-ness of my drawing. My interpretation of that word was that it was a pain because try as I might, I simply could not master perspective.

I did not go so far as to wonder whether that word held any meaning outside of paper.

Then, a few years later, I watched a Ted Talk by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie called The Danger of a Single Story. I was struck. Adichie talked about what happens when a complex event or a person is reduced to a single narrative. She urges her audience to listen to other ‘stories’ or perspectives about the same event or person; and says that if that does not happen, we risk a critical misunderstanding. She used the example of the assumption uninformed people make about citizens of Africa: that they are all poor starving people, who live in either abject poverty or wild country.

Adichie talked about having multiple perspectives as studying overlapping stories to understand an event, person or country. Just as narratives, perspectives too have power. This power is the ability not only to tell a story, but also to make that story the definitive story of that person or thing.

This really put things in perspective for me. I then read Harry Potter where Professor Trelawney spends a few minutes of every class shouting, “Broaden your minds!” and then I subsequently ended up doing a subject called Global Perspectives in my A Levels.

Before Global Perspectives, I took newspaper articles at their word. After my first few classes, I extended my questioning nature not just to opinion, but also to fact or what could be perceived to be or was presented as fact.

I tried to read the news keeping Adichie’s advice in mind.

Recently, I came across a book called Factfulness by Hans Rosling, where he also addresses what he calls “the single perspective instinct.” He says that having a single perspective about something can limit your imagination (as someone who sometimes depends solely on imagination to get through a day, I was terrified) and that to find practical solutions one must look at problems from many angles.

But it only made sense to me on every level when I realized that this is why people say, “I want to hear both sides of the story first,” when they try to solve problems between children or adults.

It all fell into place then. My much-abused painting, that I had struggled with for hours, told only one story: mine, and it was a story that had only one perspective that was again only mine. Therefore, even with the imagination that I have in abundance, I failed to bring my art to life and had instead limited it to a single dimensioned story.

Today, perspective means several things to me. It is no longer a pain, but a mantra of sorts, that I keep hiding just behind the door of my mind so that when I do encounter people or events, it can proceed to pounce on them and root out all the overlapping stories and perspectives about them.

Only then will I make an informed opinion.

*  *  *  *

This reflection I think, is timely considering all that is happening in our world today. As people debate about topics they are not fully informed about or create mini wars by posting things of which they know nothing on social media, while others refuse to educate themselves on current happenings, I see it as crucial for us young people to take steps to ensure that we have only informed opinions.

If The Creator Lived On Earth

9.1.2020

If the Creator lived on Earth,

Would he have a caste or class?

Would one hesitate to give him water,

Or spit when he did pass?

Would he be a he?

Or a she or a they?

Would she be subservient

Or choose to go her own way?

Would she be worshipped

As the goddess of learning?

Or chained at home,

Back bruised, and limbs burning?

Would they live a fulfilled life,

With love, a job and an identity?

Or grovel at the feet of the ignorant,

Living in disgrace and poverty?

If the Creator lived on Earth,

Would his eyes be open?

Would she face the world today,

And say what mustn’t be spoken?

Or would he/she or they,

Insult, abuse and condemn,

And like so many in power,

Ignore what doesn't affect them?

On Organising and Staying Organised.

8.1.2020

I don’t know whether to call myself disorganised, though no one in their right mind can call me the opposite. Of the latter, there need be no argument. I do get sudden fits of needing to clean and arrange every ten days, but most of the time my surroundings are in disarray.

 It would be crudely poetic if I were to say that the mess in my room is actually reflective of the chaos in my mind, or better still, the unrest in the world we live in, but since the people who know me best might read this, I shall not go that far into untruthful territory.

And yes, I have used the refrain: “Messy is good, because I know where everything is,” too often to really mean it anymore. In fact, the last time I murmured it halfheartedly before going in to clean anyway, I realized that I had been lying to myself all these years!

I agree though that when everything is everywhere, even looking for a pen becomes a game of treasure hunt. Clearly, I’ve forgotten about the countless times this very same attribute of a messy room has made me scream in frustration and earn many “this is why you should be organised” glances from my loving family and friends.

I have found that remembering to clean is almost as hard as actually tidying up. This is saying a lot because as we all know, reaching a level of cleanliness or neatness that matches up to someone else’s standards but at the same time managing to stay sane is a feat in itself.

But, I’m proud to say that I am actively researching ways to overcome this affliction and mould myself into a neat, tidy, and organized person. The operative word in that very ambitious sentence before, you should note, is “researching,” which of course means that a bigger evil has befallen me: procrastination.

Honestly though, setting reminders and alarms help, and I do that obsessively to try and get out of the vicious cycle of remembering, then forgetting, then remembering when it’s too late and then vowing to remember next time, only to promptly forget again. Well, I am proud to say that it’s working!

On that positive note, I shall sign off now and start cleaning my table and bookshelf and then make the bed. Or maybe I could do it later; I’ll remember if I set a reminder. What if I forget to set a reminder?

I guess I’ll just go and tidy the room. But then again, if I clean the mess up, where’s the adventure?

Gosh, I just read the last few lines. I have relapsed. It’s back to square one.

Beauty in Intricacies

7.1.2020

There is beauty in intricacies. 

In words it takes time to understand. In emotions. In the mind games humans play with each other.

There is also beauty in simplicity. 

In the smiles you receive and give. In the sunlight that you squint at. In the moist mud you once played with but won’t admit to anymore.

There is beauty in both complex and simple. 

Sometimes they are the same thing. A spider web. A kolam. A piece of art or writing that you have gazed at from every conceivable angle before, when all of a sudden, it all falls into place and you wonder why the obvious interpretation didn’t strike you before.

There is no felt beauty and perceived beauty. It is one and it is a hundred.

There is beauty in order and in chaos. 

In the way ants walk alongside a crack on the wall. In the way a mind works. In the way one word or thought can shake tempests and unsettle the hardest of hearts, and the most rigid minds; and in the way hope, the child of order and chaos, is born.

The beauty that exists in time, lives on in the timeless.

Just as there is beauty in longer sentences that have to be touched and felt and sensed, swished around in the mouth of the mind like a particularly fine wine you are trying for the first time.

There is the same beauty in simple sentences.

………….

Why I Sometimes Don’t Say What I Feel Out Loud: My Internal Dialogue

6.1.2020

This is one of my self-imposed pieces of advice to myself: always keep up a running conversation with yourself. Not only does it entertain you and the hapless strangers you pass on the street, it also keeps you very self- aware.

My internal dialogue for a while now has been about the way I speak. I have been trying to understand why I voice certain things that I feel and why I don’t voice others. What is my screening process? How do I go about sifting through the hundreds of thoughts, ideas, opinions and judgements that spring up in my head, and selecting only a few to express?

Most importantly, what happens to all that goes unsaid?

I first noticed that a lot of my reactions to things I hear, see, or read about are spontaneous and immediate, and consequently very genuine. Then comes the screen test. However outspoken I am about the state of the country we are in, or the restrictions our society imposes on us, and how much I advocate free speech; I still sometimes hold back my thoughts out of fear of destabilizing otherwise smoothly progressing conversations, or shaking some age old dogma.

Do you find yourself relating to this? Now that I have spent some time observing this reaction to my own thoughts, I have concluded that what I feel may not be classified as fear, as I am not afraid of offending someone or anything like that.

I cannot find a single word to sum it up so I shall just call it a habit –which I’m aware, is a single word, but it is not the appropriate one.  I call this a ‘habit’ because of the conditioning we all have received, whether consciously or unconsciously. Despite coming from a liberal and understanding family such as mine, society’s imprint never fully went away, and in more situations than one I have found that it very unconsciously influences what I do or say.

Maybe I should have started with a relatable observation. I also hold back because I am afraid I may be laughed at or my opinion dismissed.

Is this again society’s doing? Sometimes we use the term ‘society’ very loosely.

This is not to say that I am not to blame for embarrassing myself on occasion. I am notorious for saying the wrong thing; this is the price you pay for being a chatterbox. I have not only touched upon the elephant in the room multiple times, I have dragged it out of its hiding place and escorted it to the centre with pomp and fanfare. This is not necessarily a bad thing.

Therefore, each time I successfully make my point, while knowing fully well that it may not be appreciated, I celebrate it. A tiny victory in the larger battleground of unsaid opinions.

But for both these reasons, I have realized that writing becomes all the more necessary for me to engage in, hopefully on a regular basis. As it not only is a form of catharsis, but also a platform I can use to ask questions about what I see and hear around me, and express thoughts I may (I said may. I’m trying, okay!) leave unsaid after all.

To Whomsoever It May Concern

5.1.2020

        

Dear Society/Government,

If I gave you an armful

Of thoughts that I had,

Would that be too much to bear?

No, you say, each time I ask,

But what if those thoughts

Were questions in disguise?

And what if those questions,

Short as they may be,

Were about things no one wants to see?

Then what if more questions

Followed the first load?

Would that be too much to hold?

And if all those questions,

Were actually statements,

Would you stop and listen?

Or would you ask me,

"What are you saying,

Why can't you be submissive and behave?"

All I want, I repeat,

Is for there to be positive change.

Oh, is that something else you can't bear?

You wave a dismissive hand,

As you have countless times before,

When people say things you don’t want to hear.

Why then should I,

Exist where I'm not heard,

In this construct governed by fear?

                                                           - A concerned human being.