Everything Fades

Never did I think in the last 4 years that I’d reach back to square one; I’d once again ponder to something that held me tight from my own vision of future. If I die today will it make any difference to the world? – The thought seized my mind. Probably friends and family might just post a sympathetic status on their blackberry or facebook on the grief of my death and yet lead a normal life. But I choose to look at a broader perspective and not make the attention of family and friends a priority, as they might simply portray a false mourn for my passing away. The crux of this is, will something be missed the day my soul departs from this world?

And I begin to contemplate…Have I given something worth being missed for to the world? Moreover, have I been a dignified well-bred human being? Besides will I be remembered by people other than family? Well here comes the haunted thought; what will I be remembered for? Even after a decade will people know who I was? Will the day of my death mean any importance to anyone after my family has passed on?

Certainly I am yet to attain the sheer importance I desire. The 5% of my efforts are minimal for me to be remembered for anything beyond personal affections. Getting an obituary also appears to be doubtful unless my family posts one in the newspaper. As a matter of fact no one will write about me or shower some kind words on me as a person. I won’t be quoted.

Ample is left to do and it’s more of a need than a want to be remembered for long after I depart the world. I aspire to be an icon in my own field/industry. I want to be set as an example to the people. When I die, I want my work, my efforts, the slogging hardwork to live on in the minds of the people. I want my work to be stated globally.

I deem it to be quite ambitious. Nonetheless these are the things I want to be cherished for in people’s mind. I’d want more than just my social networks and blog to result in the Google search of ‘Aanshi Jain’. Let’s weigh up the bitter truth here, once your kids are grand-parents, they will probably be your last descendants who’ll vaguely remember you. Once they leave the world, everything about you will fade to dust. Your very last memories will die with the death of the last few people who knew you.

In order to be remembered, I must leave a mark on the world. Indeed there’s a long way to go for that to take place...At the end of this path I don’t want everything to fade to dust.

"I don't know what my calling is, but I want to be here for a bigger reason. I strive to be like the greatest people who have ever lived" - Will Smith

Silent Killer

When life tows you into the darkest road, insecurity gets the best of you. You yearn for importance. You feel like a ball on the snooker table apprehensive of the hit for reaching down the hole. You start questioning your existence. You conclude your relation with every second person a goof up; mainly you’re a wreck. What you want is for someone to prove how vital your existence is in their life. The insecurity often reaches a level where it’s almost impossible to be sane and you’re aloof from the real world; hence our loved ones fail to pull us out of the gloomy dungeon…

The result of being insecure: You start to think about the beginning, it’s the end, and your life revolves around one decision your insecurity made for you. Insecurity deprives people of their zest of life. We are often ashamed of our insecurities and try to run away but we fail short to realize, faster we run challenging it becomes to handle the depth of insecurity.

Our insecurity develops from how we perceive the world and face the rejection from the society. It ain’t mandatory to be accepted, rejection isn’t the sign of weak. We turn out to be oblivious to the approach of life, instead of zeal and enthusiasm the insecure man chooses to lead it with uncertainty and anxiety. The mind of the insecure man never chooses to not deviate irrespective of anything. The deviation leads to an emotionally wrecked being.

Insecurity is a silent killer to the mind. Every emotion is left crumpled and trashed. There is no cure for insecurity; it’s extremely contagious. As it affects the mind it travels rapidly to the brain, intervening with our sanity. Insecurity is everywhere. One needs to seriously learn to handle it rather than drowning into it. Stop giving up and move on. It’s rude to say but no one cares whether you’re insecure or not. What people require is someone whose in high spirits and cheerful. Agreed everyone goes through the rough phase but facing it and putting it aside is an art that anyone can attain but we choose not to. We prefer suffering; we enjoy the attention and sympathy don’t we? Insecurity will persist in each one of us, only the strong will be able to cast it out and replace with assurance.   

Every Teardrop Is a Waterfall

Tears have a perception of their own. They flow independently but every teardrop has its own story to convey. A story, half the world is oblivious to. We often perceive the wrong notion of why the drops of water are pouring down the eyes. It’s inexplicable to define the depth of emotions and feelings containing in one drop of salty water.

The responsiveness through emotions is a mystery. We laugh until we cry; we have tears of joy as well as fear, sorrow and sadness. Some of us choose to vent out frustration through tears.

As mentioned human emotions have been tangled in a world of their own; difficult to untangle and solve the mystery. At times when words fail to express the overwhelming thoughts, the words heart can’t express tears explain. I deem, cry if it makes you feel better. As for me crying helps me cleanse my body, unburden my heart and composes emptiness within; zilch inside to suppress me further. 

Crying is not for the feeble or for the strong; it’s a way to make yourself feel you, a way to calm yourself down and make the adrenaline rush decrease the pace in the veins. It takes a lot of courage to show the vulnerability of your emotions through tears. This is certainly no weakness.

To conclude …

“He does not weep who does not see” - Victor Hugo. 

Diary of a Raped Girl

 Dear Diary,

When I don’t know where to go, whom to bank on, in such lonely moments you are the one in whom a lonely soul like me wants to confide in. I need to finally tell you about the horrible, dreadful, ghastly past which is troubling me again today. I have done everything I could possibly have but it seems to be all in vain; it will kill me if I don’t unburden my heart to you.

Amidst all the insecurities, confused thoughts and tangling emotions, never in my entire life had it occurred to me that just one incident could ruin it completely. Unfortunately, in this journey of life, there is no light at the end of the tunnel. This will be a journey of pain and an unbearable ordeal to survive and I know it will be for the rest of the life. It took me almost one  whole month to attain the courage to write about it; to build up at least a shred of my confidence that had vanished and to have the audacity to introspect my own life through words and not just intangible emotions.

People say time heals everything, but I’m still waiting… still stuck in the same memory of soreness and agony.

That was the turning point of my life – but only for worse. Suddenly, I was nowhere to be found on the path I was leading. This event squeezed the life out of me. Even now, it feels like I'm living in an endless nightmare. That helplessness, that unbearable loss of self esteem made everything hazy, nothing could steer clear off nor foresee as if life had paused.

That man took my life and played with it, slaughtered it and hurled it away. The deed has now been done and the scars will linger forever. Not only did he violate me; he debased my family, the people around me, as it affected everyone tremendously. My silence now, is profound, as I haven’t uttered much in the last few years and just tried settling in my cocoon alone. That loss of trust in everyone, that fear from the world and no loving gestures from family, made me so dry that I even tried to commit suicide. But that effort shattered my mother. Unfortunately my mom needs looking after–she has been living half her life without a companion; after the death of my beloved dad – but I can’t even take care of myself to begin with. I was mourning for the one I have become now – living dead.

The thought of stepping outside the threshold of my home still makes my stomach churn; my heart races at the sound of the door bell. Drowning into the pool of apprehension and anxiety, feeling completely tamed, someone like him will find me and harass me once again. Insomnia took over my existence. I tried taking drugs, alcohol, to forget that incident but it was only a temporary blackout and again the same thought that I am a burden on this earth.

Recuperation is almost too horrifying to deal with. I feel exposed, recoiling whenever anyone comes close or even tries to touch me. The world cajoled me to smile back. Despite of everything, is there a reason to smile? Why me? What horrible thing did I do to deserve this? But unlike those teenage girls wearing shorts and dresses and being out till midnight, I highly doubt I can conquer that stage of bravery and relaxation to be so carefree.

I doubt if I’ll ever be as I was. How could it be after being intimidated, violated, and physically pushed around to get what an inhuman hunted in a desperate need? Everything seems so uncanny, like I'm on the periphery, living life on the edge; it's like I'm living without sensations. How could he abuse my vulnerability to suit his own craze and fantasy? It’s almost impossible to identify myself in the aftermath of misery and debris following the depredation.

The intensity of my thoughts jolted me and made me realize that how much I wanted revenge. I wish he was dead, so that I could go to his funeral and yell that he was a rapist – a cold-blooded, egotistical, self-important scoundrel who had hurt a woman to meet his needs. This is still so unacceptable. What happened to me was the truth or is it still a nightmare?

 My infuriation, my screaming, my revulsion, nothing stopped his nauseating, lustful touch which broke every sensation of my body at that moment. Even though I screamed and shrieked; he left the most awful bruises as he sank his teeth into my body. It’s unbearable to my mind and soul to see my reflection in the mirror. I hardly recognize myself. He used his physical power over me. What kind of monster uses that to accomplish this? 

If only I knew what were his intentions, if only I could put a stop to what he wanted, if only I'd got over it quickly, if only I discerned how to deal with this disturbed low-life person, if only I was conscious at that moment. But 'if only' doesn't change what occurred or what he did to me!

My aura is tainted with vulnerability and naivety. It sinks me into my own terrain of fright and angst. It is so intricate, having this affect, every facet of my life. I am absolutely tired of being down in the dumps, a deadened and shattered person who can’t even take the courage to step out of the house. How I yearn for the age of innocence, a time when I didn't have to experience this – almost half a decade ago.

Finally after all these days, last week, just to soothe the bizarreness of my mind, I pushed myself to visit the beach; considering that the sound of the sea waves and smell of damp sand will help me ponder. But… on the contrary the rage of the sea jogged my memory of how I felt, all the turmoil within me. The serenity and tranquility just didn’t reflect how I inferred this situation. I imagined that I'm in a sea of bleakness. Then I saw what I thought was a lone shark, who preyed on the little wandering fish.

Nevertheless, the pain would persist. It will always subsist in my heart. What he took from me, he had no right to take. He rendered me unable to struggle, powerless to do anything. Other than that, what he wanted me to do; he had no right to force me into that situation. Don’t want to continue to exist in this desolate life forever. 

Where do I discover myself? How do I move past this? How can I not blame myself for allowing him to do this to me? I am not obliged that I am alive and physically intact. I am sick to the stomach and dismayed by what he has done to me.

The notion haunts me that he could do this again to another woman. And now only thing which can make me live is to stop him and many other animals like him; because if I can't stop him or shield any such victims then life is lifeless and that irks me a lot. One needs some meaning to live and regrettably I don’t have any. Help me gather my thoughts again and be firm with my decision of eradicating such rascals from the society. I can’t let any other woman suffer this dejection and breathe in the turmoil just the way I did. I can’t let that moment arise.

Distinguishing the indistinguishable - Pain and Suffering

Pain and suffering. I've lost count of the number of times I've heard or even uttered these two words. Like a loyal companion, suffering follows pain. How screwed up is that? Think about pain first. Not just physical pain. Let's go a step further and talk about the pain of the mind. It pains when you're hurt. Often, it's some other person who ends up hurting us. Or, we end up allowing ourselves to get hurt. Let me elaborate on that. We allow people to get close to us, and we get close to somebody else. But when we get close, and when we find that our expectations aren't matched, we get hurt. By expectations, don't get in your mind some materialistic expectation. I'm talking about expectations in an emotional level. You know, when something happens and you expect that someone to act in some way, perhaps give you a supportive shoulder, say something nice, that sorta thing. It's our own expectations that, 99% of the time, ends up getting us hurt. How sad is it, that no matter how much we hate getting hurt, it's often we ourselves that act as a cause for that hurt, for that pain? Fate does love being ironic doesn't it?

Like a lapdog arrives suffering. You ask the most frequently used three letter word: why. Why are you suffering. Why did the things that happened happen. Why did that person who was so close end up causing you pain. Why did you let yourself into the situation again. I mention "again" cus it takes many attempts and situations of self inflicted pain before a person retracts into his or her solitary shell. A pitiable state, a last resort, a self imposed sentence served in your own glass prison. But all those whys are purposeless. You know why (love the irony that I'm using "why" while telling you that it is purposeless)? Because the reason you're asking "why" is wrong. You ask "why" to realise the reason behind the happenings. In reality, it'll just make you more miserable, more angry, more pained. If you want to erase the pain, you have to ask the right "why". Now, what is the right "why"? It's this. You ask yourself why YOU let yourself get attached. First accept that you allowed this, you laid it's foundation. 


That's this cruel world I'm afraid, as much as we deny, we are the cause of our own suffering. If you set for yourself too high a goal, or too impossible a dream, or hope for something with such intense desire and passion even though there's not even an iota of a possibility for its arrival. Face it. We cause our own pain. It's always our own deeds and actions.Sit back and think, and if the realisation dawns to you, good for you, because you asked the right "why". No what will you do after the why? learn from it. Learn how not to make that same mistake. Set more realistic goals and dreams, have less expectations from people, get attached and close to the right kind of people. That sort of thing.

Here's the final part. Although your pain and suffering almost always have their roots in you, you don't need to chop that tree off yourself. There are people who, when close, will only and only help you. I kid you not. Even the darkest and most imposing jungle has some gentle creature. Even this concrete jungle of a world. Even the wait is painful and suffering laden.
People suffer for so many reasons. Hungry suffer. Poor suffer. Even teenagers like me suffer due to undue tension and stuff like that. Not all suffering is our own cause. The poor didn't choose to be poor, neither did the hungry or homeless. They need another hand to hold on to. But most of us have the problems rooted in us, Do yourself a favour, do me a favour. Ask the right why. Put all the answers to that why in a bag, throw the bag away. Done deal.