The face haunts me day in and day out. It’s that face with heedless eyes and a conceited nose that would suddenly send me into a daze every now and then. It is dead, that face. Why would it stalk me into my wandering psyche all the time then? Those eyes would merge with the evening and stray to become the beautiful strangling night. Why is the night so beautiful? And yet, it doesn’t soothe my eyes. It torments my soul, breaks my heart, tears me apart and breaks me down- part by part. Night, you’re the fairest of all, but you’re a monster with no mercy! You are the orphic mess that will forever hide my insides from the cruel world, but your fire will neither comfort me nor burn. That face and the night would stare at me endlessly while I shiver and curl into myself to fight the cold in vain! Indifferent eyes, indifferent touches, indifferent words, all indifferent. It is the face that deceived me into the night, into the cold, and left me bewildered out in the blue. At times, I would laugh at myself. And then I would scream out into the night, “I told you, you would destroy me someday!
HANGOUT
No specif topic, no specific point of argument, just this, that and that!
Wednesday 26 October 2016
MERCILESS
Tuesday 20 September 2016
The Demons
It was a cold night full of demons... Was it a nightmare? But then I was awake. A waking nightmare then? The demons didn't strangle me. They smiled at me. A scornful smile which pierced through the pores of my skin and poisoned the veins. That is the living memory of a waking nightmare.
The demons haven't gone away. They live with me now. The people don't seem to believe me. The truth is, they hide behind the curtains and under the sheets when it's daylight. At night, they sleep with me under the very sheets of my bed. No, they never touch me... I admit that I've tried to tempt them into it, not once, but severally. But they too, like everyone else, deny my presence... Sometimes though, I can feel their deep breath on my skin, but never their touch.
I.S.
Saturday 16 July 2016
WORDS AND MAGIC
“I am my own master, paint now as I please----”
-Robert
Browning (Fra Lippo Lippi)
What inspires you to write? I’ve written about it once
before. I’ve written on how words turn into strangers as you go on scribbling
them. People turn into strangers too. They have a grip of your hand at this
instant, and the next moment, they shy away. They’re bound. We’re bound. We’re
all similar- we’re slaves of society. We need to break free, we need magic! Not
the magic that happens after you say abracadabra; it’s the magic that gets your
pulse racing. Listen! Listen to how the sounds of the night connect- how they
embrace and caress each other and turn into an everlasting harmony. The music
ceases to be when night ceases to be. But there is this one good thing about
the night- it comes back. It comes back when you need it the most. You can’t
touch it, but you can love it, play with it- oh, you can hurt it and you can
scream into its ears- but the night will never betray you.
The night is magical. This is not just a romantic assertion-
the night truly is magical. Many a times I would stand on the terrace and
question the dark nothingness. I would have a broken piece or a snapped cord
inside me every time and I would be sure that this is the last time I can
endure it. It doesn’t answer your
questions; it fixes you- heals you entirely. So break free into the night, move
to the rhythm of its voices; these voices will not mislead you. They will not
take you to foreign lands; they will only drive you to your soul. And the soul
is a beautiful place to be in- there will be peace, there might me nightmares,
but nightmares come to an end too. Everything goes away, magic as well. Magic
happens, magic doesn’t stay. Only memories stay.
Let’s talk about fantasies! Fantasies are magical as well.
You know they’re not true, but your insides feed on them. You live them already
before you live them for real, if you do. What is so fantastic about fantasies?
I’ll tell you! Reason and reality are the essential elements in a Homo sapien
that kills eccentricity. Eccentricity is the essence of a wild, free and
magical life. Now, coming back to our question, these elements are not hampered
when fantasies are concerned, but at the same time, they do not interfere with
them either. Fantasies are magical because we travel two parallel worlds while
being mindful of both simultaneously.
When we write fiction, we travel. Here too, we travel two
parallel worlds, something which is not possible without magic. One is not
naïve enough to believe in fiction, but one has to be whippy enough to switch
to and back continuously. We must not confuse it with having a grip on reality
because once we talk of reality, we get this question of “What is reality?”
which none has been able to define in absolute terms yet. So, we will try to
understand reality in terms of only what is “apparently real”. The writer might
have the grip of what is “apparently real”, but has to create a world where one
can slide to and from these two ‘constructed’ and ‘apparently real’ worlds
without much difficulty. In the constructed world, the reader will experience
what is magically not true, and in the ‘apparently real’ world, they will
realize with hindsight that there might, after all, be some truthfulness in the
construction. This is where the real job of the writer lies. The job is to make
the reader see that writing is free from society.
By saying that writing is free from society, I do not mean
that while writing one has no social obligations. The words I write will need a
society to read them and appreciate or detest them. What I mean is that what
the writer writes is not bound to the dictates of a society. The writer, in my
opinion, needs to openly condemn what hinders their art and hurl some magic
towards its face. This magic is the kind of magic that will intimidate the
obstacles by making the reader realize that what is happening in the text is a
parallel world which should, if necessary, enhance, but never disturb the
goings-on of the “apparently real” and “seemingly normal” everyday life. And we
are all wise enough to determine the difference, at this point of time, between
the changes that enhance our lives (even if they bring us face to face with
some harsh facts), and which are the ones that disturb our lives (the ones we
can do without). And just like the night that keeps on coming back, creativity
will keep flowing into your veins, with no hindrances whatsoever. There will be
magic in the words that you scribble.
Labels:
Censorship,
Creativity,
Magic,
Words
Location:
Kamrup Metropolitan, Assam, India
Dead-ends
I haven’t thought of it lately. I’ve let the butt ends of my
cigarettes burn a hole into my heart, but I haven’t let it bother me lately.
This slakeless gloom could not get a hold of me. I’ve been keeping strong. I’m
doing what I should. I’ve been learning to make a hearth out of the foe-fire.
The fire had almost destroyed me. But I’ve learnt to play with fire. I’ve
learnt to roll it into smoking papers and turn it into smoke- smoke that goes
unnoticed into the fog. What happens to the smell? Don’t ask me! The senses are
dilapidated. What you see is not always what it is. There is no real
enlightenment. Enlightenment is blurred. Meanings are broken. Vision remains
within a big question mark. The moment you think that you see into things, you
wake up from the dream. And, reality is a nightmare. It is a nightmare in which
you have a choice but your hands are tied. Here, you are allowed to think;
execution is not put up with. Thoughts are highly volatile- the fire rushes
through your veins, into your head. And bam! You feel an explosion. No! This
explosion doesn’t kill you. It becomes a drug. It kills your senses. It kills
your hopes. It kills your thoughts. So, I haven’t thought of it lately.
Saturday 3 October 2015
Friday 2 October 2015
The War Against Cancer and the Story
of Hope
By Ipshita Sarmah
The monsoons were at its peak in Mumbai when we reached
there at around 4.30 on the 23rd of July. We took a pre-paid cab
from the airport to Vashi where the Assam Bhavan is located. It was just me and
my aunt who is now fighting Cancer, and the doctors that were treating her
initially had almost given up. But we had not; we had to fight it and we were
determined to do so. Tata Memorial, Mumbai,
like for us, has been ‘the’ pilgrimage for most of our warriors from India and
abroad fighting cancer. True, the process takes a little time, but it goes around
systematically and they do try their best to provide you with their best arms
to fight your war. I say “your war” because it really is a war you fight
against the enemy called cancer which tries to consume you not just physically,
but emotionally and psychologically as well. When cancer enters your body, it
enters your conscience. It is not just a matter of eliminating the disease; it
is more about conquering the fear that comes with it. And that is where I would
like to talk about these societies that are helping our warriors fight their
war not just financially. They aim at motivation that will lead to the
uplifting of the spirits of our warriors to help them conquer the fear and have
a completely new perspective on life itself.
Mumbai itself is doing enough for the cause- show them your
cancer card (patient identity card) and they don’t charge your vehicle at the
toll-gate. But here, I’m specifically talking about the initiatives undertaken
by Assam based Deepsikha Cancer Care
foundation and Assam Bhavan located
at Vashi, Navi Mumbai. The war we are talking about here is an expensive war,
and these organizations provide for accommodation and transportation to and from
Tata memorial Hospital, at a minimum rate, or free of cost to a few extremely
underprivileged. The moment we reached Assam Bhavan, we were extremely clueless
and all that we held on to (the thing which is a basic armor for one and all,
and not just the ones fighting cancer) was ‘hope’. There were no rooms vacant
at the Assam Bhavan, but they arranged for us a comfortable accommodation at
the guest house of another organization namely the Brahmaputra Cancer Care Society located at Kharghar, Navi Mumbai. After
a series of tests and consultations with the very-abled and willing doctors,
the treatment soon began with a series of now ongoing radiations, and we are
still holding on to, this time- a new ray of hope.
Before we decided on moving to Mumbai, my aunt talked to Mr.
Devasish Sharma, the Deputy Resident Commissioner at Assam Bhavan about the negative comments her previous doctors had
given her and asked him if it would be any good if she sought a second opinion
at Tata Memorial, and his words were- “Technology has come so far that there is
something new that comes up with every passing day, so if we look at the
possibilities, then why not?”. And with that, we booked our flight. Coming to
the point of war again, cancer is a family war- you don’t fight it alone but
with an entire army of family, friends and well-wishers. And when you fight it
with a positive mind, ‘impossible’ becomes just another word in the dictionary.
This reminds us of a quote from the book The
Power of Positive Thinking by Norman Vincent Peale which says,
“Stand up to an
obstacle. Just stand up to it, that's all, and don't give way under it, and it
will finally break. You will break it. Something has to break, and it won't be
you, it will be the obstacle.”
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