Do you sit down and just reflect sometimes? You know, reflect on all that has happened? And you realize that there has been plenty of times when you were given and denied? It feels funny; this has happened again and again, yet you never learn. Or maybe you do...?? Perhaps you're used to it by now.. So, instead of thinking "I refuse to take it, because nothing lasts forever", you resort to another very different thought: "Let's make the best of it while it lasts."
Trust me, it helps. 'Cause whatever tomorrow brings, tomorrow will never be today. Make your today beautiful.. And see if you can surpass this beauty tomorrow...
Friday, March 30, 2012
The Temporary Radiance
Perhaps it is the taming of the looming darkness that remains stashed close beneath the surface. Or perhaps it is merely the zephyr that lingers ever so slightly longer than usual. It may even be the mysterious aroma of freshly-sprung blossoms rising in the air, its felicity diffusing far too quickly. I inhale; it doesn't burn, so I try once again. The tender fragrance emanated from the surroundings fills my lungs, inflating them with a peaceful sensation that they had believed to be long gone. I am taken aback by the tranquility of it all, but I finally persuade myself to revisit the memories of last spring as they probe from underneath the layer of darkness, battling to come to life. Without another moment of hesitation, I give them a chance.
The darkness retreats ever so ponderously, pausing to dwindle over a certain region every now and then, as if to warn me of the danger lurking below the surface. But I know what to expect, I know precisely what vile reminiscence fills the hollow to the brim. Perhaps the reviving warmth of the spring, after months of the ominous cold, is what gives me the courage. Or maybe it's nothing but the newborn flowers that promise a new life. Whatever the stimulus may have been, I push aside the black cover to reveal all that takes refuge beneath it.
With the density of the darkness out of the way, the glow of light bursts out without interruption, right into my eyes, as I squint to retain my eyesight. It makes my eyes water, but does not blind me. Not this time. But that is just because it's not the actual light, just a faded memory. I wear my most genuine smile as my eyes begin to adjust to the dazzling glow. I had forgotten exactly how beautiful it happened to be. So breathtakingly beautiful that I had been forced to lock it up, just in case it makes another sinister attempt to blind me again. Now I dare to look directly into the light. My constricted pupils wander across the beam, searching for the powerful source that emits such a striking dazzle. My eyes find the radiator and they freeze. The genuine smile still remains plastered to my face, but the ecstasy wavers by just a little at the sight, for I see all that I once had, all that was once on the warm surface instead of being shoved on the underside in the form of a mere memory.
I walk briskly through the reminiscence, pausing before the dilapidated edifice in which the morose remains lay motionless. Gathering my newly found strength and courage, I peek inside and see the visions playing before me like a silent film. I was being hurled to and fro between the devil and a deep sea, the cataclysm inching down upon me, more smothering than ever before. Then there had been the burst of light; so new, yet so familiar that I extended my hand to reach for it. The moment I welcomed the illumination, the disaster shrank inconceivably until it was nothing but a speck of soot on the floor. The light had been my saviour and support while I climbed the steep walls of hope once again.
I do not know for sure what it was that made the climb so easy, so lucrative, but I believe that it was the developing aura of last spring. Before I had time to contemplate, I was mounted on the top of the wall, above all that was only ordinary. Unable to contain my alacrity, I turned to face the luminescence to share the joy of the moment. But it was nowhere to be seen. I searched desperately, I screamed out by its name, but it had simply disappeared. The light had guided me to the zenith and now its job was done. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks and my steps faltered, my feet slipping off the narrow edge, as the mauling fear and hollowness engulfed me.
I gasped for air, I battered my limbs in every direction until they wore out from exhaustion. I accepted the fall as I continued to plummet down towards the ground, but never finding the certainty of the firm land beneath me. It was during this very fall that I began to construct the layer of darkness over the haunting memories of the treasured uphill journey.
However, as I now stand watching the silent film after yet another ominous winter, a realization strikes me: Perhaps it's the climb, the journey up the wall was all that mattered. All the melancholy caused afterwards by the missing radiance was just a part of the bigger lesson. As I rhapsodize the kindness of my luminous friend, I suddenly feel my feet on the ground. I am at the foot of the wall, but it doesn't matter. What matters is that I am standing on the surface, clutching the cherished memories. This can only mean one thing: I will now be able to climb once again, the memories of the past will be guiding me this spring, and for that I am eternally grateful.
The darkness retreats ever so ponderously, pausing to dwindle over a certain region every now and then, as if to warn me of the danger lurking below the surface. But I know what to expect, I know precisely what vile reminiscence fills the hollow to the brim. Perhaps the reviving warmth of the spring, after months of the ominous cold, is what gives me the courage. Or maybe it's nothing but the newborn flowers that promise a new life. Whatever the stimulus may have been, I push aside the black cover to reveal all that takes refuge beneath it.
With the density of the darkness out of the way, the glow of light bursts out without interruption, right into my eyes, as I squint to retain my eyesight. It makes my eyes water, but does not blind me. Not this time. But that is just because it's not the actual light, just a faded memory. I wear my most genuine smile as my eyes begin to adjust to the dazzling glow. I had forgotten exactly how beautiful it happened to be. So breathtakingly beautiful that I had been forced to lock it up, just in case it makes another sinister attempt to blind me again. Now I dare to look directly into the light. My constricted pupils wander across the beam, searching for the powerful source that emits such a striking dazzle. My eyes find the radiator and they freeze. The genuine smile still remains plastered to my face, but the ecstasy wavers by just a little at the sight, for I see all that I once had, all that was once on the warm surface instead of being shoved on the underside in the form of a mere memory.
I walk briskly through the reminiscence, pausing before the dilapidated edifice in which the morose remains lay motionless. Gathering my newly found strength and courage, I peek inside and see the visions playing before me like a silent film. I was being hurled to and fro between the devil and a deep sea, the cataclysm inching down upon me, more smothering than ever before. Then there had been the burst of light; so new, yet so familiar that I extended my hand to reach for it. The moment I welcomed the illumination, the disaster shrank inconceivably until it was nothing but a speck of soot on the floor. The light had been my saviour and support while I climbed the steep walls of hope once again.
I do not know for sure what it was that made the climb so easy, so lucrative, but I believe that it was the developing aura of last spring. Before I had time to contemplate, I was mounted on the top of the wall, above all that was only ordinary. Unable to contain my alacrity, I turned to face the luminescence to share the joy of the moment. But it was nowhere to be seen. I searched desperately, I screamed out by its name, but it had simply disappeared. The light had guided me to the zenith and now its job was done. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks and my steps faltered, my feet slipping off the narrow edge, as the mauling fear and hollowness engulfed me.
I gasped for air, I battered my limbs in every direction until they wore out from exhaustion. I accepted the fall as I continued to plummet down towards the ground, but never finding the certainty of the firm land beneath me. It was during this very fall that I began to construct the layer of darkness over the haunting memories of the treasured uphill journey.
However, as I now stand watching the silent film after yet another ominous winter, a realization strikes me: Perhaps it's the climb, the journey up the wall was all that mattered. All the melancholy caused afterwards by the missing radiance was just a part of the bigger lesson. As I rhapsodize the kindness of my luminous friend, I suddenly feel my feet on the ground. I am at the foot of the wall, but it doesn't matter. What matters is that I am standing on the surface, clutching the cherished memories. This can only mean one thing: I will now be able to climb once again, the memories of the past will be guiding me this spring, and for that I am eternally grateful.
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Journey Within the (Yellowish) Walls
I'm new to this blogging thing, and I notice that I always end up writing more about my thoughts than my regular activities. But that doesn't necessarily mean I'm some kind of solemn philosopher person.. I'm only sixteen and around people who actually know me, I'm crazy and childish. But I have my thoughtful moments of seriousness and philosophy too.
I'm just finishing off with 10th grade. My 'O' levels exams are just a little more than a month away. I should totally be revising my lessons and NOT blogging, but here I am... being lazy and procrastinating once again. That's just what happens when your exams are right here and you just want a vacation SO bad, but you don't get one. Well, I'll get one as soon as I'm done with these exams! I can't wait till June.
But then again, it feels so strange that I'm going to be done with school.. and college awaits. The years just whirled by, and I still feel nothing like a grown-up. Of course I'm NOT a grown up.. But when you're finishing off with school, all the adults around you keep pressuring you about being all responsible and mature. Now that I reflect over the years... as much as I hated a lot of things about school, I'm going to miss this life... a bit, at least!
I'm just finishing off with 10th grade. My 'O' levels exams are just a little more than a month away. I should totally be revising my lessons and NOT blogging, but here I am... being lazy and procrastinating once again. That's just what happens when your exams are right here and you just want a vacation SO bad, but you don't get one. Well, I'll get one as soon as I'm done with these exams! I can't wait till June.
But then again, it feels so strange that I'm going to be done with school.. and college awaits. The years just whirled by, and I still feel nothing like a grown-up. Of course I'm NOT a grown up.. But when you're finishing off with school, all the adults around you keep pressuring you about being all responsible and mature. Now that I reflect over the years... as much as I hated a lot of things about school, I'm going to miss this life... a bit, at least!
Journey within the (Yellowish) Walls
The countdown has already begun.
Only half a dozen more weeks or so left to go. Sitting down with a neglected Pure
Math book in front of me, I decide to take a trip down the memory lane. It’s
not like I’m really nostalgic, but between math and memories, I’d pick memories
any time. Even if it IS school-life memories.
My
first day in Kindergarten-I, section-Orange (Why ORANGE of all colours?!). I walk into a tiny room with yellowish (at
least better than ORANGE) walls. All eyes are on me and I notice three girls
giggle, probably because I forgot to ride in on a unicorn. I smile and receive
a wrinkled nose in response, so I sit next to this harmless-looking boy. Yes, a
BOY. Everyone whispers and stares with shock and repulsion.
Kindergarten-II. [I don’t even remember
the name of the section]. I have two friends. The classroom is larger but still
yellowish. I try to point something
interesting outside and accidentally poke my best friend in the eye. She is
furious. Despite my futile pleas, she entwines her tiny little finger with mine
in the form of a crucial ‘katti’. Oh well, there goes one friend (until the
teacher makes us shake hands).
1st Grade. Everyone is working day and night on writings
that they wish to submit for the yearbook. We are shepherded to the roof of the
yellowish building so that we can take a group photo there. We smile and try to
look as best as possible in our lame uniforms. I can’t be too sure, but I think
someone made donkey ears on the back of my head when the photo was captured.
That was the first and last time we set our feet on the school roof (Ha! That’s
what they think!). And to this day, I
still wait for a copy of that very yearbook.
2nd grade. I believe we are more social and civil, but
befriending the opposite gender is still unacceptable. Being a class captain
seems to be the most lucrative of all occupations. One fateful day, I lose a baby-tooth in the
middle of English class. Everyone stares with awe as I spit blood out on a
tissue paper. I’m treated like a war hero for the rest of the week. The drama
queen of the class glares at me.
3rd grade. A young, female teacher walks into the
classroom and a guy quietly utters the forbidden four-lettered adjective. We
gasp. We have now become witnesses of an unforgivable crime. I’m not sure about my aim in life, but I
think I want to be a Pokémon Master. I actually have a friend circle (although
it tends to fall apart about half a dozen times a day). I have two guy friends.
The class drama queen continues to glare at me.
4th grade. My friend and
I get caught passing notes in class. The teacher isn’t too pleased with the
topic of discussion. However, we are very pleased when she lets us off with
only a lecture. We pat ourselves for being good storytellers. My friend circle
falls apart less frequently now. I think it’s sort of normal to be friends with
guys. Either that or the drama queen has just grown tired of glaring at me.
5th
grade. I lose a few friends after
they’ve been placed in different sections, but I gain some new ones. This new
circle seems more stable, but I’ll keep my fingers crossed just in case. We
actually dare to talk in class even after the teacher warns us not to, but we
still fear the deadly detention box. We secretly laugh at the teacher’s accent.
6th grade. The rivalry between sections is at its peak.
We’d compete in anything and everything. There are ‘groups’ with cool and
kick-ass names. A few basic swear words pop up now and then. There’s more
music, gossips and giggles. And, um, some of the seniors seem nice; not that we
spy or anything. We tell answers to our friends during the tests. Some teachers
get on our nerves. We have facebook accounts. Okay okay! I lied about the not
spying thing, happy?!
7th grade. Friendship has
a whole different meaning. We let our classmates copy every answer during tests
(the ones that we DO know anyways). Due to the lack of any space resembling a
playground, we only hang out in the classrooms during games classes. Let’s just
say that truth or dare has reached a whole new level. We sing, dance and eat
during most classes. I feel sorry for the Biology teacher. There is some amount
of graffiti on the desks. We now laugh openly at the teacher’s accent.
8th grade. We have a
huge, amazing friend circle. Threats involving hockey sticks and ‘boro bhais’ (gangsters) are very common among the guys (and some girls I could name, but they shall remain
nameless). The Linkin Park mania is
dying out with the rise of Bullet for My Valentine. There are lyrics, thoughts,
quotes, random stuff (both appropriate and inappropriate) scribbled down all
over the books, copies, desks, walls (still yellowish), curtains, etc. My
grades deteriorate slightly; I’m more into poetry now.
9th grade. It’s
surprising how you can keep losing old friends, gaining new ones, and
reconciling with ones you lost ages ago. Everyone’s tired of drama (even that
drama queen seems a little less attention-seeking). We barely bother to submit
class works. We LOL in the teacher’s face if he/she ever mentions the word
‘detention’. We eat, sleep, text, and play ‘fool tokka’ (unlike truth or dare,
THIS game is drama-free) during class. Don’t even get me started on the bunking
rate. I realise that my poetry was a waste of time; my grades begin to improve
again. The guys somewhat lose their obsession for ‘ganjaam’ (blood and gore). Can it be that
hockey sticks are actually for playing hockey and coaching centres are meant
for studying after all?
10th grade [so far].
They keep telling us that we barely have any time left (happening at this
INSTANT). The exams are hammering on the door and we must start acting
responsibly if we haven’t done so already. Yet, we find ourselves being more immature
than ever before. Parents fuss, teachers pressurize, friends still offer to
play ‘fool tokka’. We all need a vacation above everything (applies more
importantly for the parents). And everyone
says that school-life is the most memorable era of one’s existence. Thus, I
ignore the trigonometry revision (as usual) and sit here, wondering if I’ll
remember any of this a decade later. Too bad they never gave us that yearbook.
Bliss in Ignorance?
We're all so busy looking for the truth. I wish we could just pause to think for a moment and realize that there is absolutely nothing wrong in NOT knowing.
" What you don't know might not kill you, but what you do know might." ~ This was said to me by a very wise man for whom I have the utmost respect, and although I felt like protesting to this, I couldn't.
Sometimes you just have to live in ignorance. Somethings are better left unknown. Knowledge is beautiful, but whoever said that it can never be dangerous is gravely mistaken. It can wither you, and that's what I've discovered. But then again, a lot of beautiful things turn out to be the most dangerous of all. Don't get me wrong, people should not be burying their heads in the sand and running away from reality, but there's also nothing wrong in not knowing what is not meant for you to know. If the truth hasn't shown up in front of your eyes for a while, there was probably a good reason for it...
There was a different kind of peace in ignorance: one that cannot be restored.
" What you don't know might not kill you, but what you do know might." ~ This was said to me by a very wise man for whom I have the utmost respect, and although I felt like protesting to this, I couldn't.
Sometimes you just have to live in ignorance. Somethings are better left unknown. Knowledge is beautiful, but whoever said that it can never be dangerous is gravely mistaken. It can wither you, and that's what I've discovered. But then again, a lot of beautiful things turn out to be the most dangerous of all. Don't get me wrong, people should not be burying their heads in the sand and running away from reality, but there's also nothing wrong in not knowing what is not meant for you to know. If the truth hasn't shown up in front of your eyes for a while, there was probably a good reason for it...
There was a different kind of peace in ignorance: one that cannot be restored.
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