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[teenageshitposting]

when Rabindranath Tagore said about Taj "A teardrop on the cheek of eternity" he was so absolutely and painfully right that I'd actually like to cry whilst agreeing to these words every single day if that's okay

[teenageshitposting]

How are you doing lately?

This has seriously become such a generic question in today's world that you won't even think twice before replying "I'm doing fine." Maybe you don't know yourself what's 'being fine' defined as, anymore.

Maybe you're apparently okay with everything. Job going well, a steady salary supplying you with food, cheap entertainment giving you whatever relaxation you need on a daily basis. You keep smiling throughout the day, not letting yourself or anyone else understand that your soul is dying out.

I recently watched a movie that contained a beautiful dialogue which I can't get enough of. Let me share that with you?

So it goes this way: "Each of us had dreams in our childhood; a unique dream, which used to differ from everyone else. Some wanted to become a rockstar, receive love and spread the message of music among the mass, some wanted to be an explorer, wander off with their free soul just like Vasco da Gama, whereas some wanted to be astronauts hovering in space. Not just that, some even manifested winning the Nobel prize or the Oscar even before knowing what they truly were. Yet, here we are, living a life just like a moron, like the common man, laying happily on our couch after throwing our ambitions out of the window."

How fast did the night change? When did we grow so matured that we gave up everything that ever was in our bucket list and ended up getting the life we hated? When and why at all did we realize that we just needed to be "settled"?

This was something many of us drew at school when we were asked what we'd do after growing up. Look at us now, we're doing nothing.

It's not really our fault though. I remember being called mentally ill in childhood right after I had expressed my desire to become an explorer and a travel writer. Possibly that's the reason I joined engineering, leaving behind all my whims and wishes, just to be called "normal" again.

The funniest part is, I don't even regret most of the time. Throughout the day, I keep my inner soul hidden, even from myself. It's just that at 2am, dead of the night, regret and guilt creeps up my mind, which I can't get rid of until the next morning.

I even hide my pain from myself nowadays. Do you do the same? Do you laugh at your heartache in the hope of feeling better? Do you laugh whenever you feel homesick, or you miss someone? Do you laugh at your past traumas too? If yes, shake my hand, friend, you're not alone.

It's not just "a part of life" anymore. Unending regret and incurable pain has become the whole of life, leaving no more room for your childhood dreams. You simply let your past self give up on you

However, I'm still proud of you for how far you've come. Maybe life won't be as perfect as you had expected, but you still have managed to smile today. You've tried your best. Here's a song for you, so that you smile again :)

[teenageshitposting]

[teenageshitposting]

Isn't it underrated?

Today, I saw a crow perched on the edge of my windowsill. For the very first time in my life, I have observed this bird in such a proximity.

Isn't a crow always underrated? When we ask a nursery student to name a few birds, he will answer, "Parrot, sparrow, pigeon, penguin, humming bird, myna," and the list goes on, without simply including the commonest bird you see out there-- the crow.

And when you think about it, possibly the only fault of a crow is it's black colour, and it's habit to clean up the environment by eating human garbage. Instead of giving it credit, aren't we being unfair by debarring it from our known birds' list?

Today, I realised how beautiful "black" is. Black is smooth and shiny. The black feathers are as soft and glossy as that of any other bird. The black beak is perhaps stronger than those of other birds, since it tastes dirt instead of nutshells. Those black eyes sparkle with the same hope that helps life go on in any organism on this earth, or perhaps more. There is no filth associated with the crow. It is as beautiful as any other bird, as beautiful as you and me.

But the crow doesn't care about how much hatred it receives. It continues serving the environment in its own way. That's what makes it beautiful.

If you are labelled ugly, dark, fat or short, consider yourself a crow. Paying heed to those comments will only hinder your progress. You will be beautiful if you serve the society and do what you were born to do. When you let your inner strength radiate from your body, that is the sign of your ✨gorgeousness✨.

You don't need to be a colourful macaw. Be a dutiful crow instead, and your beauty will be blessed one day. :)

[teenageshitposting]

To ma'am, with love.

Who's your shelter when a storm is blowing across your life? When nobody is beside you, you always find one person to hold your hand and help you get up again. For you, it might be your mother, a sister, a best friend. For me, she has been my dream builder, my friend, philosopher and guide, my Biology teacher.

Till now, "trust" has been the greatest issue of my life. Trust is like a swing in motion, and the one who's placing the trust is the one riding the swing. It's always better to ride the swing alone, because if someone pushes you from the back, there's always a chance, they might push you so hard that you lose balance and fall off, or so light that you don't enjoy the ride at all.

And what if there's someone who pushes you just adequately, just with the right force, so that your motion is actually enjoyable, yet not scary? How about someone pushing you so that you fly up with the certainty that you'll come back to those arms safely again? That's the person in whom you can confide blindly, whom you allow to push your swing, and hold on to your trust. This person, for me, was her.

Yes, she has seen me in my most miserable state; my shattered, defeated state. She has found me in the condition in which I was ready to give up with life, for being left alone in the sandstorm of life.

"You don't like bio or is there something seriously wrong going on with you?" she asked me anxiously one day.

"I'm just done with everything. Not just bio. Everything. Every cell in my body is rebelling against this otherwise impractical life of mine. People whom I trusted have left me, and whatever that I'm assigned to do, is something I don't want to do anymore. I feel I'm a fiction, I have no control over what's going on in my life." That was my reply, which was enough for her to understand everything.

Ever since then, she has been counseling me.

"You ARE real. You aren't fictional. Your capability of doubting your reality makes you real. 'I doubt, therefore I think, therefore I am'. Right?"

Her words have been my home. My safe place and my comfort zone. Often after regular classes, she has taken my extra classes, which never felt like an extra burden to me because every single word of hers had a hint of spiritual guidance.

And whenever I thanked her for being my home, she has told me "YOU are your home. You don't need anyone to shelter you. Your body is what shelters your soul. Take good care of it."

Last words that I remember her telling me were "Our mind is a horrible storehouse of demonism. Do not let your mind control you. Let you positive spirit control your mind instead."

Her words worked better than those of my therapist. Today I'm still healing, but what's positive is, I AM healing. And for this, I'll forever remain grateful to my biology teacher.

[teenageshitposting]

Something I learnt after reading this book is that you need to embrace your pain, no matter how deep and indefinable your hurt is.

This post is not a book review, it's just an admiration of how John Green (my favorite author) has penned down exactly what my soul wants to speak whenever it is at a loss of words. The main character, Aza Holmes, is trapped in her whirlpool of thoughts (like me?) and doesn't find a way out. However, her philosophies do open a gateway to what's actually going on in her mind, and I was surprised to see how it's the same as what goes on in MY mind. Her thoughts are a reflection of mine.

The question "Am I real?" because I have no choice over what's happening to me, I'm watching a movie called my life, which has been directed by someone else and I'm just the audience, laughing and crying as the script keeps transforming the mood of the film... It's all so messed up. And most importantly, just like Aza, I've to simply accept the story without complaining even a bit, because I have to SURVIVE.

There was a portion in the book that said that there exists a type of parasite which grows in the eye of a fish and breeds in the stomach of a bird. It infects the fish, grows in its eye, and compels it to swim up so that a bird can eat it. Basically the fish gets eaten up because of the parasite. Hence the parasite breeds in the bird's stomach, and with its faeces, reaches the water body again. Aza Holmes feels like she is the fish in her life, no control over her story. That's exactly how I feel, too.

The pain that we receive, has no language. Rather, it is the exact opposite of expressible human language. Nothing, absolutely no word or phrase, can accurately describe the shattering of someone's heart. Yet there's a saying that your present is not your forever, so there's hope, even if your brain tells there isn't.

I believe that whatever happened, is happening, and will happen, can be considered as a growth experience. An experience that might help me to become more of the person I already am. Even if eventually everyone disappears one day, I'll be enough for myself by then. Because after all, at the bottom of the spiral of Aza's thoughts, there was a spot where she knew that she was real. :)

[teenageshitposting]

Okay so this post is gonna be a little different. It's about that corner of India which is closest to my heart, and is simply a product of spectacle and majesty. To detail it more, this is the land of kings and thrones, the origin of Indian History and the treasure house of the nation, Rajasthan.

To be honest, Rajasthan is too large a state to describe in a single blog post. But definitely I'm going to speak about the city that had captured my entire soul during my visit to Rajasthan. It's the capital of the state, Jaipur, and it's gleaming satellite, Amer.

First off, I had genuinely appreciated the idea of constructing a small artificial Rajasthani village called Chowki Dhani at the heart of Jaipur, just to display the art, culture and lifestyle of native Rajasthanis. Their occupations, their food, music and dance, and most importantly, their hospitality, had touched my soul. As of the music, here are some of the available Rajasthani folk songs I could manage on Tumblr.

Regarding the dance of the women- it's something you won't find anywhere else in the world, and hence don't miss it whenever you visit Rajasthan. It's purely a display of colours and balance: the two main ingredients of life, decorated by the ornaments you use to beautify it.

Talking about the food, Rajasthani thaali is a plate full of calories, yet served with hearts full of care. Not really suitable for a regular diet, yet if you miss it, you miss something for your life. The taste isn't spicy, it's sweet and salty. The aroma of the food isn't simply mouthwatering, but is also something you won't forget ever. Here's daal bati churma, the main attraction of Rajasthani thaali.

And lastly, I shall never forget my experience at the light and sound show in Amer. After the long yet spine chilling tour at the fort, and gathering the knowledge of the spectacular history that lies at the corners of the old mansion, here was the live storytelling of the past, that had sent down shivers through my body.

Rajasthan has been a heart warming place to visit. Hoping to visit again in the near future.

[teenageshitposting]

THE ALTERNATE ROAD.

There are mainly two reasons why I request my driver not to drive through the bypass road while returning from school these days.

The first one is pretty obvious. His school stands in the way. Also, the restaurant stands in the way, where we had celebrated his birthday. Those were the days when we were still ignorant of the fact that all the moments of joy are transient. Very soon, the days will be gone, forever. It's strange how unwanted people and unwanted moments never tend to leave you, yet those whom you want to hold on to, slip away between your fingers, just like some fine grains of sand. Anyway, won't let myself fall into the spiral of the plethora of my memories now, it will just tire the readers :) .

Coming to the other reason. The alternate way is driving through a little yet overcrowded street, named Tangra. Losing myself among the busy corners of this street, honestly, has been one of the most peaceful moments of my life. The throng of unfamiliar faces, and their jobs I'm unaccustomed to, are things that easily capture my attention.

The man tossing lassi high in the air, the little girl selling fish to her customers, the gossip of the local oldies, the fight of street cats, every little event happening across the street is a moving photograph by itself. Just like what I saw today.

I saw a man running helter skelter after his poultry, that kept running away from him, while a little school goer, possibly his son, stood nearby, daring to laugh at his father's buffoonery. Those are the moments that really help me to distract myself from the tiresome realities of the world, atleast temporarily. And that temporariness is sufficient to provide relief for the remote future.