It's when

There is this one time, when you are absulotuly sick of the world around.

when people look upto you for motivation and energy and wat you can give them is nothing more than the fake words of wisdom, once proclaimed as shit by you! Your hug doenst even carry the same warmth it used to, for its exhausted. exhausted of gettin rejected.

You avoid every single body, not because you develop the popular inferiority complex( no one develops it, its just the 'popular opinion' pressure playing the game. Take my words, the day you develop that, you are dead. DEAD), but because they might infuse in some positivity, the energy , the optimism which has been missing from ages. How all of a sudden you would cope with it. You'v always believed its only you who can infuse all those things, how could you let anybody peep inside of you.

When the place of your work, where in the past you fuelled enthusiasm and creativity, starts to act as a human and you become the leech sucking on it, taking out optimism, laughter. Your collegues develop a dislike for you , not that you bitch about, but you don't utter a word( hell with them, if somebody says people understand, o they give a shit)

You realise, all the NO'S you avoided to say to people so that they don't feel bad, come back to you. Amplified.

On seeing a red cross van, your heart pounces hard, your grandpa appears right infront of you, you want to scream. cry out loud. you just can't for tears reject to fall. You fear crying,for you might be given sympathy. You might again have to turn to Friends. People , I generalise. The care, you d been longing to get, translates into sympathy which you hate more than the world.

When the romance inside you have been kicked so hard, by yourself ofcorse (the other one had given his verdict long back only) that you hate the nights when you fall asleep, because all the dreams you'd remember would be of him.

Believe me. It's your mother's lap that helps. The way she unfurls you.The way she infuses life in you. The way she asks your tears to flow out, the pain along. The way she combs your hair with her fingers to make the insomniac you fall asleep. The way she wakes up the love in you. and the way She asks papa to join in, who s been waiting for long.

How his 'our faith never shakes in you, give a shit to the world' lights up your eyes. How you just want to cry in his arms, because his embrace would empower yours.

Your grandmom wakes up from her sleep to remind you of your grandfather , whose Favorite child you were.

and your sibling laughs at your most pathetic joke (ofcorse after cracking it and claiming it to be his own).

You win over the rotten you!

Why do I click...

Why do I click..

Because I have a photographic memory. O no, not that whatever goes doesn’t come out ever , but because partially my memory is made up of the pictures I have seen. I see them so often ,in the hope of giving shape to what people call as memories.

There are things like the first kiss, the first standing ovation, the first speech, the first award, the first compliment ,the last goodbye, the last exam , the last ride with him/her.

Things , which are special, by the popular public opinion. Many of my friends get jitters on restating them , they say its because that particular moment is imprinted hard on their mind, but I v always wondered aint they reliving the popular opinion associated with it.

I mean , you think about a compliment, and a smile comes up, or think about eve teasing , may be, its rage then. Well, whatever, my point is, I do have a memory of all of them , not as moments, but as pictures.

I, many a times donot recall the jubilation, the sadness , the excitement or the gloom inherent in a situation I have been a part of. Yeah, Event I may remember though.Is that called living in the moment!! Literally I do!

Iv miserably failed on many occasions, when people say iv choosen a wrong direction for my career ,or may be This was just not meant to be , try sumthing different. Like everybody, I feel bad, My heart burns , there is an arrow piercing hard. But even that piercing is for the moment.I forget and I am into my world again.

My flame, (Im blushing at this moment) how so ever apart he is, is intact In my heart. Literally and figuratively. Figuratively, well you could have guessed, but literally because of the pictures I have of him. The time Iv spent with him is intact as well, because I made sure, a lot of the moments , I live them repeatedly so that they ensure their place right deep inside.Just a quick thought, the concept of Facebook’s display picture aint, that the same. When ever you see anyone’s DP, it a quick recall of the emotion associated with him. Great, I ain’t alone. Anyways, like with everything I don’t remember how it feels on seeing his picture every time, but every time on seeing his picture I smile , I experience it. So it’s the smile I can recall. And that’s what I do with situations now, almost all.

Like the other day, I got my first paycheck and the sheer bliss it caries along, one can imagine. And now , only after a few days , I can’t get jitters of that situation , I got then. But yeah, I have seen myself through my eyes, smiling like a clown and that was when I clicked myself. And that picture is inside of me. And the similar thing with my parents , relatives, I clicked that moment so that it s saved in. and I try and relive each moment again n again, so that it doesn’t wash out. People say, if something is meant to be, it stays. Hell with what they say, because I have made things stay. Good or bad. The pictures I have of them , clicked by my mind simply rejects to get faded.

And that is the reason everything hear about death, It’s my grandpa who pops up. I donot remember a lot of things I did with him, but have made my memory of all everybody says and the pictures my mind has clicked of the moments with him. I refuse to let the picture of his last ritual fade away, when I was sitting holding his hand , foolish people called him dead, but the coldness ( which I cannot recall as of now) still left a warmth.

Looking at another dimension of it, I disagree with a lot of people on the concept of beauty, on the perception of beauty , I would say. Photographs help me capture them my way, and in a way, reinforces my idea of it. And if I generalize , It somehow helps me justify my symbols of life this way.

Pictures help me read Life.

Pictures let me live the romance of life

Pictures help me deal with the sacrifices and the gloom

Pictures, for me, are speaking , living, beings in themselves,

Telling a tale, Every time.

Unveiling myself!

There's so much to me, partially veiled

Inside, I ain't numb as yet.

I aint completly wrong, not entirely rotten.

I too have shades of white.

There's alot of positivity,courage and adventure,

and I too am loaded with enthusiasm!

There are places in my heart, content and lively.

I still am left with a lot of love, for myself.

It is dark inside, not because of lack of shades,

but every color has been absorbed within.

It's only when I spent time with myself, I could unveil me.