Brain-sick's Diary #6 | Conundrum

In the lucid smile, there is a not so lucid story.

A story of coming of age… A story so confused in itself to be narrated…

Silence prevails, in attempts to unravel the mystery,

Of looking inside, of looking within.

And what is apprehensible? It’s the outside world…

The world that eyes witness.

Doubt prevails, when eyes assume to have found the truth.

In situations so common, why emotions are anarchical.

Emotions fabricated from love… Emotions fabricated from loss of love.

Silence prevails, in attempts to unravel the mystery,

Of looking inside, of looking within.

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Brain-sick's Diary #5

Life has offered varieties. Varieties in people, in their behavior, in their culture, and with this lies the varied experiences of ours. Experience is carved not just from our own endeavors, but it is also accompanied by the culture we are infused into. You may be protesting, not accepting the culture that surrounds you, but the survival for existence always stays at the top most priority in your list. Survival for existence is after all so natural. Lets not just blame humans only. Its prevalent across all forms of life that exists. And this is the survival for existence that pushes you to adapt. Adapt to the culture, to the surrounding which is not so acceptable to you otherwise.

He has adapted to the culture too. The learning curve was steep. But at the end the least that he could have achieved was to get used to with this culture; and he did it. Now he stands firm. The firmness has to be raised even more. Strands of relationships that tend to bind people together; he has doubts on this authenticity. He realizes that relationships are not permanent. Time is a dimension. And every relationship is carved out from time. Clock ticks, relationship tricks. He learnt to try not to be tricked. To keep trying is very important.

Where is the happiness? Well, the happiness is omnipresent. Happiness is God. If you believe, God is everywhere. If you don’t believe, you can’t find God. So is the happiness. And to add to this crude thought, here is an important quote : “Happiness is indeed a state of mind, a choice, a way of living; it is not something to be achieved, it is something to be experience.”

His struggle is on; his endeavors to find solace, to find God, to find happiness.

June 12th, 2015.

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bon voyage

How clearly the emotions we remember, of those frightened steps that were hesitant to move ahead. That was the day when few timid hearts obliged with immense aspirations consoled themselves, and accepted what they ultimately arrived at. That was the first day when we entered our engineering college…

(click to enlarge)

I am in final year of my B-tech now. And for me, there has been a series of learning and experiences outside my textbooks. I know this would be true for my immediate seniors too. They ended their terms in our college after their completion of final semester, and have left us alone. I had been attached emotionally with some, and tied friendliness with many.  The most crucial thing I am going to miss now is I won’t be hanging around them explaining peculiar thoughts and curiosities that pet in my mind. Few things no one understands, and I never explain them to everyone. I will miss them who truly understood what I used to explain. :D

Whatever be your college's status, whatever curse you prize your college with, at the end you are going to miss it. I have seen them… not just through the moistness that prevailed in their eyes but through the unexplainable silence rooted somewhere deep inside. Emotions pouring through eyes are not as powerful as the silence is, and that too creased in a smile. Unexplainable situations, I know I would have to witness myself too. The one which is a year far, I know that will get closer in blink of an eye. At the end, we people turn out to be so dependent on the ambiance that prevail consistently in our hostel. When back to home, we tend to stick to the same routine, we tend to find the same people. Who is going to bang on to our doors shouting aloud names connecting them with girls in the nearest girl’s hostel, who will be there to quarrel for a puff of cigarette? Friendship is the last string that keeps you attached in your memories despite of truck load conspiracies you got to confront in your four years.

I won’t point out names of my seniors specifically because almost everyone had been very special to me in one way or the other. I got to learn something from them which awakened me from sort of darkness in different realms. Now me being in the final year, I take the responsibility to support and elate my juniors. I have plans for this year. I hope I will be able to execute them efficiently. And for my seniors, I wish them good luck for their lives ahead. And as Robert Frost had said, ‘In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on’; so lets move on, and pledge to work even harder in our future and march ourselves towards excellence.

Please do stay in touch!

ANSHUL GAUTAM

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Brain-sick's Diary #4 >> Unusualness

Something unusual has happened. Something that is pulling me into despair. Something which is clenching me in the fist of depression; a depression of a kind whose origin lies veiled. Only my senses are reactive towards the rhetoric discussions I have been raising inside me. Perceptions I envisage is pulling me apart with a force that can uproot a living strong tree, that can bring to the grounds tombs of giant mega structures, that can explode away a town with nuke energy.  I don’t know the specific reason. I just witness the unusualness.

Interests are getting suppressed. Things that used to be my passion (which they still are, but have gone under hibernation) are also getting dim in my arena. I go through early pages of my life, and I feel surprised on the changes I underwent. In the isolation, in the separate space where I have dragged myself into, I keep juggling thoughts and beliefs that have burst out from nowhere. Why does this happen? No clues.

Facebook? Twitter? G+? I have quit almost all of them. I used to be one of the most active person on social media websites. Though I never run out of plots for short stories and poetry, but increased intimacy with the unusualness has slackened the will to perform, to write them on my blog. Why am I writing all this crap right now? I am only scribbling my heart on pages of my open diary just to bookmark this day, and when I will look back again in distant future, I will try to feel the worst unusualness that I have experienced. Why does this happen? No clues.

Friendship which is considered to be the most sacred relationship (I haven’t seen, I read in books) never crosses my way. It might be that I am very stiff at my attitude and consequently this relationship never intersected into my way. I have always tried to mix with people, tried to get to know them, tried to weave strands of solidarity with the people whom I connected with. But I have failed each time. Love? Does it exist? I have only seen unusualness.

This unusualness is intensifying with each passing day.  If I could ever get to reach its origin, I will surely bring myself out of this labyrinth, killing the evil spree to death. 

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Brain-sick's Diary #2 >> If I were a Bird

It has been harsh these days. Weather has been behaving strangely. The sun is shy to come out, and has lost somewhere. Probably it has its own chores to sort out. I can see how the clouds have been troubling him. And there has been rain which was not anticipated, at least not at this time of year. Flowers in my garden, with feeble colors on their petals, are showing their miseries. I can do nothing other than watching them wither in cold. It pains to watch them die; flowers I had gardened with all my care.

Even the birds have migrated. Who is going to look after their homes now? I watch them fly together, flapping their wings slowly in distant sky, sometimes showing up, sometimes hiding behind clouds. Among the flock, I try to find the one, who is lonely. It may be because I want someone to resemble me. I look for my existence in them. The bad side of me, and a little good in me, I appraise each one minutely. In books, I read, living life with too much care and precautions is certainly not a good lifestyle. We should be carefree, and joyous. We should never look back in the long race we are running in. These are what books on ‘Art of Living’ say.

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