Day #23

A letter to the psych-ward

Came across a draft I had created in my inbox during a moment of weaknesses, not too far back. Reading through it, I didn’t feel the pain and self-pity that it would have garnered then, but a sense that I need to share, word-for-word, this ultra-personal disclosure. Something has surely changed somewhere..!


Hey!

I had a panic attack recently. And it got me thinking. Actually, I think the above transpired in reverse.

I feel there is a dichotomy in what and who I am and what I want to be. And I mean it not in the sense of status, money, job des, etc. but rather as a person. I want to be more hard-working, I want to be more straightforward, I want to love risk (I only like it at the moment), I want to be more spontaneous, I want to be more alive and mostly, I want to dive off an airplane, I want to learn exactly what I want, I want to be fearless in the face of failure, and mostly – I just want to be less afraid. Coz it is this last thing that, despite knowing and having the appetite for the associated risks, stops me from reaching for the next moment. And that loop which starts with me not being able to take the next step starts off a mental spiral where I am the star of the show, the audience is empty, and I curse myself and I laugh at myself and I feel, for a moment, comfortable with that sadness. It feels familiar, it feels… right. Happiness feels like an allergy; it comes, it affects, it passes away.

While I am not a total dreamer chasing happiness, I do feel rudderless. My lows bring out thoughts in me which perceive my great life as a privilege, undeserved. Rationally, I know that life is a poker game, and the hand you are played is hardly something you choose or get to decide; what you make of it, is what sets you apart. But how do I convince my irrational human conscience of this truism? What’s to stop it from hurling insults my way?

I stopped listening to it sometime back, and I realized it was a toxic part of my conscience, not the whole being. That simple. (In hindsight, too simple. But then again, human fallacy dictates that a maze solved, was hardly a maze, wasn’t it? So being proud about solving a non-maze isn’t exactly smart!)

Regards,


This is a part of a mini-series of independent posts, starting here

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Day #21

Conversation

The two-way with the world
This osmosis of thoughts
Hold the door for the toxin
Lest the good stays within

This is a part of a mini-series of independent posts, starting here

Day #13

This is a part of a mini-series of independent posts, starting here

The dusk is visible in the leaping splashes of what used to be still water, but which I am now involved with in a dog-eat-dog race, as I put forth one arm after the other pushing back my enemy. Talk about savoring my first foray into a swimming pool in Hong Kong! I am going to squeeze a few paragraphs out of this –
yes, I am that happy about the whole deal.

Let me start with the pre-swim prep. After doing (unnecessary/obsessive) online research mining reviews on Hong Kong pools, I was a bit skeptical. Most forums would go on about public pools being crowded and so on. I feared a scenario like this:

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But hey, I am really geared up for the whole deal and how bad can the crowd really be? I am a veteran of the Dadar battlefield and have the scars to prove it. Plus, I mean its been almost 2 weeks since I last tasted chlorine; I rather miss it. All I really wanna do now is suit up and jump in. YOLO. (Well technically, not jump in. Since the pool is just 1.4 metres deep…)

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Anywho, desperation and good sense win over, but as I swipe my Octopus and enter the fairly large Kennedy Town Swimming Pool facility, my steps falter, unsure, as if testing the waters. I become conscious of the fact that I am probably the only Indian guy in the whole place at the moment. I begin consciously trying to be as invisible as possible, hoping to blend in, for some reason, with my predominantly Chinese brothers and sisters.

At the gates of the changing rooms, there is an odd sign which says, roughly, “Anyone above the height of 1.35 metres or older than 8 years old won’t be allowed in the changing room of the opposite sex”. It is one of those things which you know, deep down, that there is some backstory to it. One of the two conditions was surely an addendum and my bet is on the latter. There is absolutely no way, after all, that some tiny dude did _not_ misuse it at some point in the past, and prompted the law-makers to rethink things! 😀

Well, as I enter the men’s locker room, my efforts to “blend in” are rendered futile as I come across my first culture-shock. For the sake of civility, I shall not venture into details, but samajhdaar ko ishaara kaafi hai (A gesture is more than enough to the wise). Takes some time for my eyes to adjust to this new darkness. No one on any forum cared to mention this phenomenon, of course. Thanks, internet!

The first couple of laps are nice and slow, as I stop to smell the roses; not really counting the laps anymore, free/frog-styling, soaking in the warm water and the cool breeze, sighing with content after every lap. Boy, have I missed this. The pool is mildly warm and a little crowded, but reality is way better than expectation. After a few relaxing rounds, I get a little competitive with random strangers, setting arbitrary goals for beating them to the finish (always fun!).

I notice something peculiar after some time in the pool. There is a general lack of body hair on everyone! They have as much hair as would a skinned potato (Nothing wrong with it, of course) I feel like Anil Kapoor from the 90’s swimming among the people.

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Yeah, I know – Disturbing. Now you feel my exact mental state for the next few seconds after becoming conscious of the fact!

As my swimming session draws to an end, I have the pleasure to view the sunset from the quiet, open-air pool deck. As the Sun takes in a deep breath for its long dip in the far off depths of the ocean, it brings down the shutters on an almost perfect day…

Day #10

This is a part of a mini-series of independent posts, starting here

Shun the privilege
Unearned; Not mine
Passed through my blood
Not through my sweat

Shun the heritage
Not my creation
Nor the prize
From my journey

Burn it all down
Let the the smoke rise
Suffocate and choke
As the fossils fuel the fire

Nothing shall rise
The weight is too much
At first all will be bleak
The ashes, tombstones

Stripped down, Naked and bare
The legacy feeding on itself
Soon all is quiet
Light as a feather…

Silent winds carry away
These ashes
All in the noisy head
Of a silent islander

Lonely and stranded
No cry for help
Safer to watch
Than to be

Day #9

This is a part of a mini-series of independent posts, starting here

Thought i’d try a couple haikus after what feels like ages!

Dawn
Heavy with dew
Fresh with a purpose
The sun rains a storm


Night
Star-lit moon eyes
Dotted birds of metal
Hovering clouds

Haiku Vol. 2

This is my second attempt at writing these little haikus. Constructive criticism from last time helped a lot, hope there’s more where that came from!

I wrote the final two with a sort of peaceful mindset that somehow brought up memories of good ol’ rainy days when school would be off, or when it wasn’t time consuming to stop and smell a rose or two.

——

“Can I go play now?”
“Don’t forget your knee caps;
And your gas mask”

(A little “environmental commentary”, if you will! 🙂 )

——

Cup in hand
Kettle on the stove
The skies pour

——

Daffodils sway
Windswept fields
A silent noise

——

Thank You.