Is the world too big or too small?

Is the world too big for me to hide from things and people I want to avoid?
Or is the world too small that I will keep bumping into people time and again?
Sometimes, giving the chance to reconcile, giving a second chance to what might could have been. Or is plain huge for people to disappear and leave you with regrets and what ifs?

I am unsure if I should believe in 6 degrees of separation or not. But maybe, if I saw some of you later, sometime in my life, I wouldn't feel the way I do right now. And for good measure.

7 things I wish were true.

(edited : Thanks Kris for pointing the error in the title. I should consider getting a proof reader for my blog posts)


1. Live and let live.
2. Being drunk and doing things is fun.
3. Even if people don't understand you, they can be your friends.
4. As you do, so shall you reap.
5. People always learn from their mistakes.
6. Every event has some meaning attached to it. It all is part of a grand scheme.
7. Everyone gets their happy ending.

Matter part- 1.

"Matter.
Red matter.
Red gooey matter.
Splattered all over.
A man, this time.
With the look of disbelief, fear and disdain all together.
His gaping jaw. The bullet hole through it. He was dead, just like the others.

I woke up, once again. It doesn't surprise me anymore nor does it affect me. I have learnt to live with it. Everyone tells me the same thing. The previous few therapists, my friends or whatever is left of them, It was a message from my past. My past that I know nothing of.

I do remember my first such dream. It was when I was 12. It had me all trembling and unable to sleep. Not that I was or I am much of a sleeper. It was infrequent but now, it has become a daily thing. I can't be bothered anymore. I am done.

It is almost 6am.

I went through the normalcy of the day. Heading first for a bath, then getting ready and making my way to college. These dreams don't matter to me any more. They just don't."

She completes her rant. Her eyes hollow and tired.

"So why are you here?" he asked with a calm and soothing voice that made her kind of weak in her knees. She stopped looking at the floor and looked up.

"Because, well, my last therapist, Dr. Larry couldn't see me anymore and if I don't talk talk about it, I feel like, I don't know, I will explode. Better out than in, eh?"

She likes the way he smiles at her lame attempt at humour. She breathes in deeply.

"What do you want to achieve from therapy?"

"I have stopped having expectations. From therapy. And myself. When I went to my first therapist, I thought the dreams would go away. But here, I am 6 therapists later and no solution. If nothing, the problem is worse. The dreams are more graphic, more detailed. I couldn't see their faces, earlier you know. Now, I can. I can. I know who they are."

"You do?" She can sense the surprise in his eyes. She can feel his gaze on her. Once again, she meets his gaze.

"I know they are people. I feel like I know them."

"Do you know what hypnosis does?"

"I have read about it in my Psychology class and well. Dr. Larry told me about it."

Both of them remained silent for the next 10 seconds, then, he took a deep breath and went on to explain how hypnosis taps into that part of the brain that wasn't accessible by the conscious and alert mind and if these dreams were being caused by something in the past then, she would have an answer.

Having an answer is better than having nothing at all. Would that make these dreams go away, she wondered. Almost instinctively, he answered,

"Knowing the cause helps you deal with the issues, the dormant issues. Your mind is trying to tell you something by the way of dreams and we are here to figure out what that is."

I don't mind coming here everyday if only I get to see this face, she thought.

"Have you understood it? Let me find you something to read for the next session when we start the process."

The smile he flashed next stayed with her the whole evening while she fixed dinner, while she took her long bath and finally fell asleep.

Open letter to whoever wants to read.

Dear Hipster- chick with a weary world view,

I am a Mumbai girl living in Chennai for the past 1.5 years. I read a post about Dally boys written by what I assume (because I just couldn't finish reading it) a South Indian girl. To bring it to the notice of that girl, things aren't exactly peachy in your side of the country.

I relate more to boys and always have. Maybe it is their calm nature or the fact that most boys don't give a flying fuck about what you think. But what is it with these Chennai girls?

1. If you sit in the girls' side of the bus (oh yea, an entire side reserved for women), you'll see that most women have the same exact hairstyle with the malipoo. Chennai is where fashion comes to die.
2. Polyester salwar kameez in Chennai weather. Enough said.
3. Chennai girls are known for their long flowy skirts come rain or shine, they do their part in keeping the roads of Chennai clean.
4. For a matriarchal family, they do give too much importance to their boyfriends. A girl in my class was asked by her boyfriend not to talk to any other boy in the class and since, she didn't listen, he joined the same course a year later.
5. Chennai is where feminism and hippie culture meet because no woman knows what it is to wax or thread.

On an unrelated to women but more about South Indian spellings (Since you want to talk about Delhi English), why can't you spell like the rest of the world does? Why do you sprinkle "h" on everything and insisted on pronouncing it even when h is mute (eg. honest is not hornest.)

Actually this is where it ends for me. Because your mornings maybe be broken but so is your world view. You might be from anywhere in South India or India, if you can't adjust to a city, leave. I stuck with Chennai and probably was the best thing ever.

(With loads of credit to Niranjan- @nichtEinheit)

Broken smile

You there, laughing to yourself,
Yes, you, with sparkles in your eyes
And a laugh so infectious.
Pray, tell me,
what is it that amuses you.
That makes your face gleam.
Pray, tell me,
for finding a reason to smile
has been killing me.

It seems days have gone by,
Or, time has stood still.
A moment there,
and now, here,
with nothing at all in between.
Time has elapsed,
of that I am sure.
How and how much,
I know not.

My laugh is broken
My smile is gone.
Attempts are futile
to get them fixed.
Lost is the humor.
Missing the fun.
Something is gone.
I yearn for it.
Find it.
Return it to me.
Pray, tell me,
Where has my glee gone?

PS: Futile attempt. 

23.

It happened a few hours before my birthday and I felt betrayed. There is only so much you can do, after that you have to sit back and watch the drama unfold and then, maybe do some damage control. You can't control the storm water from coming into your house. You can't control people or their will. And you can't control your emotions. If you do feel betrayal, you do. But what you do with it, is important.

So that something that happened made me feel weird in the stomach almost all night long. In between the phone calls and the skype calls, I had that nagging feeling and that is not how I wanted to feel on my bday. And then, when I woke up in the morning, realisation dawned. This was the best gift I could have asked. I deserved this kick on my butt. I know whom to trust and what to expect from them. Better now, than later. Better today, surrounded by family and friends, then tomorrow when left to my own devices.

Happy Birthday, Me. Happy 23. Happy Realisation.

Time to make some new resolutions?