I honestly think that whoever made this meme deserves an outstanding ovation. I’m sticking this up and spreading it around to wherever I can.
Amen to that!
I honestly think that whoever made this meme deserves an outstanding ovation. I’m sticking this up and spreading it around to wherever I can.
Amen to that!
Sheets of snow crunch under my boots. The winter shiver makes me light a cigarette. Random wanderings lead me to think about all the broken promises inside my chest. My patience withered into a haggard ship. There’s no sailor to manoeuvre this abandoned fleet. You’ve sunk deeper and deeper into the cold dark waters. My heart had place for two, and you knew. I am to you how Rose was to Jack. If only you knew that you’re all that I ever wanted.
There’s nothing around me but endless white. No home, no civilisation, no stars above. The sky is an early morning hue, while my fingers are an evening blue. Frosty wind freezes my body. There’s nothing to kill the already polar heart.
Your lips tingle the nape of my neck. Fiery, desperate, in want of love. The ravenous passion warms my soul amidst all the bitter biting depressing cold. I reminisce your sweet talks, the now sapped attention, and the smile that’d linger on your full lips. I giggle thinking about your dishevelled hair, your cherry lips coated with my lipstick. There’s nothing more I want than pressing my mouth against yours with our tongues intertwined and making their own sweet love. It’s all that I think about because you gave me none of it. The kisses I craved have drowned along with you.
In a time where a text can end it all, let’s just be friends sunk my titanic of dreams. Let that iceberg be damned, it cut my soul into two-one stayed behind, the other walked away with you.
Run boy run, bask in your glory. You played my love like a video game and rage-quit my longing. I am the Empress from the tarot you picked in the carnival. I’ll come at you like a siren and have my heart whipped with your ardour.
The coffee I brew isn’t the same. My garden now green isn’t the same. I now see red campions growing in the lane and my father is baking a cake. The house is filled with an air that I can finally breathe in after my restrain.
If only I could reach out to you one last time to thank you for giving me a chance, a chance at a new life that croons in my ears and puts me in a trance. I want to embrace you lovingly one last time to turn that semi-colon into a period. I don’t love you anymore. That’s all there is for you to know.
I know, it’s been a while since I talked about a book, and I think I’m done with the hiatus stuff I prattled about earlier. Months? I can’t stay away from writing for a month, let alone a few days.
Anyway, that’s not the point. The point is-
I finally finished reading a book (hurray!) and here I am, all set to bore your minds.
Okay, on a serious note, don’t take what I said before seriously. I’m not that boring, am I? Never mind. Let’s just get on with it.
Psst! This isn’t really a ‘book review’. I write whatever comes into my mind whenever I think about a book I’ve recently finished reading. Cheers!
I love trains. Dad and I have the same passion for trains. He probably loves them a little more than I do.
As a kid, my father always made sure that we travelled by train when the journey could have been a lot more shorter and less tiring with a plane. And, I’m grateful for that.
There are so many stories of my own from all the train journeys I’ve had so far. Thinking about them brings a smile to my face.
However, it also pains me to think about all the people with whom I struck a strong cordial relationship during the journey. It makes me wonder if they remember me at all, or look back at those times just as I’m doing right now. That little girl who’s now grown into a beautiful young woman, does she remember having a silly childish fight with me over a comic? That young man who told me all the stories his creative mind could conjure to put a restless 7 year old kid to rest, does he remember how my small head rested on his lap while listening to him intently and marvelling at the ingenuity of his story’s hero open-mouthed? And, when the train halted in the middle of nowhere with wilderness everywhere, does he remember how I made an attempt to push the train forward while thrusting my little palms onto his seat’s headrest and he laughed, my dad laughed, my mom chuckled, and they all coaxed me into trying harder? Once the train started moving idly, does he remember how I jumped back into the seat, put my head on his lap and went back to staring at the window, at the beauty of the vast fields stretching out, inviting me to run toward them and into the unknown? The old man and woman who were headed to another city to meet their son, do they remember me singing them rather raucous songs? Yet they bore with it, told me I was talented for my age, filled my ears with the kind of appraisals that people usually do with a child and make them believe they are unique, smart, beyond their age, even if it’s not the same.
The bridge so thin that it made me feel like I’d topple over. The thick big trees hiding a world behind them from a child’s predatory eyes for an adventure. The farms and the huts. People looking right back at me from the other end as I rode past them. The train station filled with the aroma of fast food. The time dad and I almost missed the train because I couldn’t decide on which packet of crisps I wanted, but luckily we were quick enough to get on-board, and I’m glad there was a man to pick the tiny me up. My mother and I switching our seats so that I could feel the train dragging me back rather than pushing me forward. I’d do it over and over with her, it felt like a game, and my mother was never once annoyed with this game.
The people and the uncharted places, places that could never make it to the map but somehow managed to leave a mark in my mind’s map. Green. Lush. Brown. Barren. Blue. Dark. Mysterious.
I picked this book up from the rack not for its promising summary, but the five words in white on the cover, ‘The Girl On The Train‘. It sounds silly, ridiculous even, to go for a book without having a look at what the story might be on . I wanted it. I had to make it mine. I was once a girl on a train, and she wanted to hear her side of the story, to be there right beside her, revelling the train rides once more, the train rides I’ve been deprived of for a long time now.
She isn’t disappointed.
For once, I could see the story unfold as if I were an outsider which made it all the more stimulating. I wasn’t Rachel and Rachel wasn’t me. Rachel fantasised about Jess and Jason; I imagined all the possible things Rachel was leading me into.
I am inclined to think that I’m the female protagonist whenever I read a book. I still don’t know why, but I’m speculating it’s because I want to feel whatever she feels, it’s because I want to feel the same zest and the downfall as she does, it’s because I want to feel perfect or get everything perfectly right for once. But, this one time, I didn’t. I didn’t and I already feel like I accomplished something just as Rachel did in the end.
It sounds crazy. That’s one of the things me and Rachel have in common, we sound crazy.
The other thing is- we like to involve ourselves in things that don’t matter to us at all, but we will find a way in by weaving a story that will intertwine with our lives, even if are living in a whole another World. If it’s something that captivates us, we’ll lie to wriggle ourselves in and eventually find ourselves being strangled as the situation gets deeper and darker.
Fine. I raise my hands mentally and admit that I’m just exaggerating. But I’m obliged to confess that I always try to be a part of a story wherever I go, stories that never find themselves in front of the public’s eye, stories that are only enjoyed by the people of the story in their heads, stories that will always remain a mystery to the outsiders, and I wish they weren’t.
This story, on the other hand, tells me that there are dangerous predators with prying eyes and venomous canines that always lurk in the corners, waiting to bite into your sanity and emotionally abuse you without you even realising it. They’ll twist and turn, morph and mangle your thoughts and memories to bring you to your lowest point. They take a delight in that, those insane people with the facade of sane.
There’s a lot a reader can take away with them from this book. There’s so much I could write about, but I wouldn’t want to waste any more of your time if you’re reading this. Honestly, it’s not an excuse for not wanting to write any further.
Now, for the real review!
The book seemed a bit bleak now and then, frustrating as well because I felt the story moving at a much slower pace in few places. Some of the characters can be a bit of an annoyance too. One of them managed to make me shut the book and put it down on my desk with a thud and walk around until my head cooled down. I may sound dramatic, but it did happen.
And that’s how you know it’s a good book. I didn’t even realise I was so invested in the story.
Nevertheless, I wanted to know what happens in the end which made me not want to give up on the book just yet. As much as it was vexing sometimes, for me, it had me at the edge of the seat all along, guessing, and it has excellently accomplished in maintaining the air of mystery and suspense until the climax.
I’m impatient. I have always been short of the much needed patience and passiveness. Maybe you should just pick up the book ASAP and see for yourself and let me know how you found it because-“I’m not the only one who looks now. I don’t suppose I ever was. I suppose that everyone does it-looks out at the houses they pass-only we all see them differently. All saw them differently.” Well, it’s not really the houses we’re talking about here but it works just fine with books too. You get what I mean? That’s a quote by Rachel. It sounds great, doesn’t it?
Chilly, nail-biting, and a breath-taking end. It’s commendable, how the author connected the distinct pieces and wrapped it all up to reveal the unimaginable skilfully.
Exquisitely written. The book satisfies one with a good amount of beautiful poetic quotes that I jotted down in my note-pad.
In the end, trust not what people feed you. They could be true to their words, they could not.
My ratings for the book-3.5/5
I’ll end my review…but not really here (Is there anyone in here who watches Ryan Higa? That’s actually a reference to one of his series on his second Youtube channel.) and you probably have realised by now that I’m pretty poor when it comes to keeping my word. I’ll just slowly walk away from here and leave you to yourself.
“I’m clingy, but I’ll never admit it. I’ll check my phone every 5 minutes to see if you’ve replied to something I’ve drafted numerous times in my head. I’ll get anxious when you don’t answer me back for a long time, and I’ll think to myself maybe you’ve had enough of me. Yet when your message finally comes, it doesn’t matter what you’ve said because the simple act of replying assures me that you’re still mine. At least, for the time being it will.
I’ll get jealous a lot, but please don’t misconstrue it as me tying you down. I won’t get jealous because I want you all to myself, no. I want you to be able spend time with family, friends, and everyone else in between. I’ll get jealous because maybe, just maybe you’ll find something special in someone else, as you did with me. I’ll be…
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Sometimes I wish I could write more than these bleak philosophical things revolving around just pain and loneliness. I realized that I don’t go beyond these concepts. They keep restricting me to pen down on mundane stuffs that keep droning on and on about surviving in a ‘dark’ world. It’s not as bad as I make it seem like. People aren’t as ignorant as I make them seem like. My extensive use of hyperbole may help in portraying the rawest emotions more profoundly, but they also give a wrong idea about the actual happenings around me. In that spur of moment, I don’t think rationally because I just sit down and type on and on to alleviate all the thoughts brewing within my mind. You could say I make a lion out of a rat. That’s how it always is and it only makes me more sensitive and vulnerable to trivial problems.
No. I can’t do funny. I’m neither witty nor humorous. I’m just an average girl with a dull mind who’s very rusty in the self-confidence department. I do write, but only when my emotions are at a peak. Normally, I can’t even go further than the horizon I’d behold because neither can I feel so strongly nor can I see below the plane of superficiality. But, that doesn’t mean I stop trying.
I want to be able to expand my mind to different scenarios and issues. I know these repetitive stuffs on love, life, relationships and misery get worn out and boring. They are depressing. Once in a while, it’s all right to plunge into the darker side of life, but all the time? It gets into me eventually and I stop appreciating the little cherish-able moments of life that come along because I’m still treading that path without any street-lights. It sucks. All of it.
They say what you write is a reflection of you. This is so true in my case. I’m not saying the things that I wrote actually happened in my life but there is a part of me in all of them and that’s why I find it easier to write them and that’s why they all pour forth ever so smoothly. No writer’s block or a dead-end. It is the case because I am what I write. Lonely, depressed, anxious and conflicted, and that’s what led me to create this blog in the first place.
I thought that writing it all down would help me get out of this shit phase I’m going through, and I’ve been mistaken all along. Not that it doesn’t help me forget about it even for a while, it just adds up to my stack and now it’s toppling down on me. Things seem like they are getting out of hand and I can’t even lasso them to tame them all. Everything sucks. Just flat-out sucks.
I have never been more open in any of my blog posts before, but I am this time because I want to let it all out. This is for me, to empty my mind.
Also, the reason why I have typed it all out is because I’ll be going on a hiatus. I want this period to be a time for self-introspection and new experiences. I don’t want to remain fixed to my problems. Well, I don’t even know where all of this is coming from and why I’m even feeling this way to begin with. I guess I just need a time-out from the social media that makes me feel very insignificant. I need to go out there and feel the fresh air beckoning me to run and run and to keep running.
This only means I won’t be posting much on here for a long long time. I’ll still be reading and stuff, but my blog is as good as dead for the next few months.
So, thank you to all of you who’ve read my posts so far. I promise I’ll give you better after my interlude. I really appreciate you taking your time to read my long-ass posts. Really. I’m indebted to each and every one of you.
Lastly, you be you and you do you. You’re all special in your own unique ways and you’re all loved dearly. You may not be aware of it, but you should know it. There’s no feeling in this world that surpasses the feeling of love. There’s nothing in this world that relieves you as much as the thought that you are loved by someone out there does. It’s what keeps me going and it’s what instils hope in me when everyone seems like they have given up on me.
Adios mates! Stay strong and stay healthy ❤
Advika-Over and Out.
When life tells you that none of it is going to be okay, don’t believe it like you never believed some people on other occasions. Many a time, you are compelled to think that this is how it’s gonna be for the rest of your life when life tosses you around with its spatula in a black bubbling stew of troubles and doubts. Imagine a football field where life is the ground and you’re the player. There are hundreds of spectators out there, near and afar, who are either booing you down or cheering you up. Which ones are you going to hear out? The boo-hoos? Or the go-get-’em cheers? It’s up to you. Just know that you yield the prowess to filter the unwanted and leave the icky stuffs behind on the sieve.
Sometimes, you’re the ball on the field and the other people surrounding you are the players. You get kicked around and picked about-hard and fast-that’s how it is. Everything is out of your control and you can’t even stop doing what they do to you because remember, you’re just a ball then. A ball can’t lash out at people or harangue them with piercing words. A ball can’t roll around on its own unless it’s pushed forth by a force to a certain degree. A ball can’t bite back with a clever comeback to put them in their places. At times you want to be pushed by people. You may, in the beginning, think that it’s pretty weak of you to even entertain the thought of people shoving your back to reach the borderline. But, it’s the kind of truth that tastes like bitter lozenges and I can’t sugar-coat it for you. I’m the last person on this planet filled with deceits and lies to lure you into a world of illusions that will eventually add up to your already existing sadness. I know it sucks. All of it. Believe me. Not them. Not any of them, not even the ones who keep assuring you that it’s all going to turn out well because they all leave in the end. You have only you to yourself.
It works most of the time. The players push you to and fro, up and down, side to side, and finally make you hit the goal post. SCORE! You will revel the triumph for a few games, but all good things are tarnished by the shortcomings of departure. Heck! They all leave. Your mates. They eventually desert you. It’s the kind of ramshackle that fastens your limbs with manacles and you can’t get up, you can’t move and it feels like there is nowhere to go. You have ridden on their backs for so long that you have forgotten how to walk on your own two feet. You get up and fall. Get up and fall, THUD! No broken parts will you have, but you will have a broken heart. You’re back to being an infant. It’s back to square one of life.
Then, just as a baby matures and passes through the various stages of physical and mental developments to grow into the adults we see in our sphere, you do too. The only difference between you and the baby is that the mental changes are literal in the real baby while figurative in you. You’ve passed all of them yet here you are shuddering and coiled up on the floor because you’ve failed. You think you’ve failed everyone you care for. Look at me now and listen close, you never fail. One never fails anyone. You only fail you, but you will have another attempt at winning this shot.
In the process of becoming stronger, you will believe many a thing that are utopian. Things like ‘it will last forever if I am determined enough’ or ‘I don’t need anyone to stitch my heart whole’. Love, you’ve never been more blatantly wrong.
You’ll find yourself breaking apart after every cycle of rejuvenation. You’re made undone and done. You are opened up and filled in again. You soak in stuffs and expel stuffs. You are ever dynamic, and just as the summer gushes in after every cycle of winter, you’ll welcome euphoria after periods of depression. It’s just like the day and night cycle except it’s more erratic than the Earth’s rotation. However, if there’s one thing I must tell you, it’s that don’t be pivoted to a particular issue. Don’t rotate around the axis of what causes you much pain. Let it glide through. You’ll be at ease.
I have told you to believe me and not others. I have told you that all of them eventually leave. I have never been more wrong.
It’s true that you will have to believe me because I am you. This is you. But sometimes, you shouldn’t trust your own instincts which led me to write the otherwise. People do stay. People do care. People do see and feel what you see and feel. Don’t you ever think that you’re all alone in this world teeming with unique life-forms and thoughts. This place, right here, is a kaleidoscope of emotions-it brings out the worst and it brings out the best. If you have this notion that people will never be out there for you, it’s because you either haven’t opened up completely or you just haven’t come across the right kind of people yet. There are plain old fools and then, there are the thinkers- and- dreamers. The latter group will liberate you from your remorse and sorrows. They will welcome you into their circle of strong-will if you would just muster the courage to open up your wounds. Tell them, tell them all of it. Even if none of it makes any sense and even if you don’t know where all of what’s making you feel a certain way coming from, let it all out in front of them. People are there, honey. People will be there to pull you out while you’re drowning in the deep dark waters of such sadness. They’ll be your life vest.
If all of this makes you feel any vulnerable or feeble, you’ll have to stop thinking that. I’m not forcing you to be open to everyone and anyone around and to not put up the tough girl act in front of the audience. Do it, but do it at your will. If you feel like you can’t act out any more then take off that extremely tight corset of toughness. You’ll feel lighter then. You have to expose yourself to the world out there to experience anything anew. It doesn’t matter if it’s abrasive or soothing because you’ll have to take the chance as it is, not wait for it to tone itself down a bit for your comfort. It never was any comfortable when you finally resumed your one hour work-out session after two years. Every muscle in your body was pulled taut and you were left gasping for breath. With your lungs on fire and body sore, you let your body drop on that wooden chair and you smiled. You said you’d do it again. You said you’d do it everyday and you did. It was horrible to begin with. The next morning, every part of your body was aching and the cramps were horrendous. They felt intolerable, but you had the determination, that will to make it easier for yourself by doing it again and again and all over again.
Life is a lot like that, love. It throws at you something outrageously difficult and you have to shed your patience and courage to make the baggage feel like it’s a lot easier to carry around. You will have regrets pulling you down. Anxiety stalling your progress. But remember, none of us are perfect. We’ve all made mistakes that we can never forgive ourselves for. Nonetheless, we can accept them and strive for better to prove the world that we are much better people than what our mistakes made us seem like. Get over it, sweetie, and get to the other side.
Contradictions are frustrating. This place is filled with them and so are you. At times you feel like you’re all that’s left for yourself and the other times you just know that the others have your back. Paradoxes pull you apart and push you in and it can be nauseating. You’ll want to bang your head on the wall and scream out of anger that’s welling up within you because you just cannot make up your damn mind on what you really want. It’s okay. It’s okay to feel that. It’s completely okay to feel so contradictory. Take it as a gift and use that ability to expand your vision to multitudinous perceptions. You will be wrong yet you will be right. You’ll say something and you’ll say another thing against it. What’s making you so irate is a boon in this realm of bigotry. Think, ponder, prod various possibilities on something even if you contradict yourself. It’s okay. It’s all okay.
You want the nirvana? You’ll get it deary. Even if you have to put on that nirvana shirt to feel good, then do it. Do more of what makes you feel happy, confident, and peaceful. Don’t ever step back from what you have a strong urge to do at the moment. But, don’t regret it later. Don’t bite your tongue and curse at the mirror. It’s okay to be zealous for a short span once in a while.
Lastly, never hesitate to ask for a hug. If you want it, just go for the damn thing.
If you’ve stumbled upon this post, please take the time to sit down and read it. This is so damn important.
Brock Turner was convicted of violently raping an incapacitated woman, but his father, Dan, thinks his loss of appetite is enough punishment.
I’m a parent. I know what it’s like to worry, sometimes irrationally, about the horrors that could befall my kid. I have imagined everything from kidnapping to cancer, miscarriage to….. well, let’s just say that in my mind I have already nursed her through every injury, illness and personal tragedy that my very-creative mind can come up with.
I haven’t prepared for the possibility that she could be the perpetrator of horror on someone else’s child. But, thanks to Dan Turner, the clueless fuck of a father who raised Brock Turner, the aspiring young athlete who raped a drunk woman behind a dumpster when she was passed out, I have now thought that through too.
And I think I have a grasp on what I would say if…
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Ah, you haven’t fallen asleep yet?
No, mama. I don’t want to go to school tomorrow.
Why not? What happened?
She’s leaving for another school tomorrow and- her plump pale face turns a lighter shade of pink and she starts crying.
Oh! Ardita. Don’t you cry, love. Want me to tell you a story?
Yeah. But, I want a happy ending. The other night, you told me about a mama pigeon which lost its babies, and it was so sad! Tears well up in her shiny big eyes and she clutches her plushy baby elephant, Alfie, giving it a firm hug and caresses its back with her tear-stricken cheek.
Tell me a lovely sweet one, like how Aunt Colourful tells me, she whimpers.
Hmm. A happy story, you say? Do you remember Aunt Colourful’s little tale about a red balloon and an orange balloon?
Ahan! Her face lights up with a tint of excitement and she sniffles. The red balloon was an unhappy balloon because no balloon in the balloon land wanted to be his balloon friend. But, one day, an orange balloon goes to him and says Hello, Mr.Red Balloon! How do you do? and Mr.Red Balloon was veyiee suprised because no one EVER talked to him. The other balloons were suprised too because orange balloon was a beautiful orange balloon and the red balloon was a wei-yed balloon. Soon, both the balloons became veyiee good friends. One day, the red balloon asked her Why do you want to be my friend? and she says Because you love me and he asks Do you love me? and she says Yes. That’s why I am your friend. They both float away in the light blue sky happily ever after. The red balloon was once again veyiee happy. She looks at her mother with those glistening protuberant eyes and takes in a deep breath. Her lips start quivering. I-I miss Aunt Colourful, mommy.
She promised you that she will be back soon, didn’t she? I will make you talk to her first thing in the morning, okay?
Thank you, mama.
That’s a delightful story, honey. I’ll let you stay back at home tomorrow, but you’re going to have to listen to my sad and happy story without any interruptions. Is that all right?
Intuh-ruptions. What does it mean?
It means a break.
It also means you will not stop me in the midst of my storytelling time.
While I’m telling you the story, honey.
Oohh! Yeah. I get it, mommy. I promise me won’t Inteh-rupt you. She flashes her white teeth and rests her head on the pillow.
There, there. Let me tuck you up in your blanket. Look! You’re a burrito Ardita now!
ARE YOU READY PILOT ARDIE?
Yes Cap’n! I’m ready for the take-off!
ARE YOU READY FOR THE TURBULENCES PILOT?
Yes Cap’n! I’m ready for the rock n roll!
Then off we go on another great escapade!
All right. Stay put. I’ll get you a glass of water.
No, mama. I will get it myself.
But you are all rolled up in your blankie! I will be back in a jiffy.
I’m not thirsty.
Just stay here with me and tell me the story, mama, She pleads.
Ardita, don’t be silly. I’ll be right back and you wait right here. The mother hurries away to fetch a glass of water and soon returns.
I love you, mama, She whispers before gulping down the water.
Something’s the matter Ardie, and you will not tell me what it is! What’s bothering you sweety? You’ve been acting so strange lately!
Ardita puts the glass aside and lies down on her bed. The mother tucks her up in her blanket again. The story, mummy.
She sighs. Yeah. The story.
Once upon a time, lil Ardie, there was a young boy named Obedient. He was called so because he always listened to his mother and father. There was never a time when he mistreated them, didn’t listen to them, or shouted back at them no matter how much they scolded or scorned at him for doing something naughty. Even the most obedient kids have a playful side to them, don’t they Ardie?
Yes, mama! One time, Cooper squirr-ted pink paint all over Lionel’s face because Lionel wouldn’t stop teasing Cooper by calling him a girl because Cooper likes pink. Cooper became very angry and painted Lionel’s face pink, mama. She sniggers. Cooper is a very kind boy, but Lionel wasn’t being very good with him and that’s why he did it! But the home-room teacher gave Cooper a detention because he was being naughty. It wasn’t Cooper’s fault at all, mama!
Oh, Ardie. That’s terrible! But you must know that life, my dear, is not always fair with people. It will make you angry. It will make you want to bellow-
Bellow? THAT IS SUCH A LOVELY WORD!
Hush child! You’re too loud!
Sowie, mama! But what does it mean? She mutters softly.
It means to shout.
Oh! Okay. What does it make you want to bell-low?
It makes you want to bellow WHY ME LIFE? I HAVE ALWAYS BEEN SUCH A GOOD GIRL! WHY MUST YOU BE SO MEAN TO ME?
Ardita titters at her mother’s agitated actions.
But that makes you stronger, Ardie. No matter how unfair it is to you, if you keep getting up every time life pushes you down saying Nah Nah Ardie! You’re weak, you’re miserable, you’re petty, it will make you stronger and powerful.
Life was never fair with Obedient, Ardie. He was always chastised, or scolded, by his father. The father was a very very grumpy man because he had to look after his big family and for that he had to work extremely hard in the scorching heat so that his family could live a comfortable life. He always returned home tired and whenever his kids did something stupid, he’d get angry because he wasn’t getting his much needed rest! Nonetheless Ardie, the father loved his family immensely.
Obedient had two elder brothers and two younger sisters. So you see, it was a big family, wasn’t it?
One fine day, one fine shining shimmering day, when the Sun was gleeful and enjoying-
Does it mean happy?
You’re a smart kiddo, aren’t you?
YES I AM! She smiles. Go on, mommy.
Ah! Yes. So, that day, the Sun was very happy and seemed like it was enjoying the view of people hustling and bustling about and little kids rolling in the mud filling the air with their shrill laughter. It was a beautiful day, Ardie, and that day, Obedient’s family decided to go to another city by train.
Soon, they boarded the train and after what seemed like a century! The train finally left the station, choo choo! Ardita grins.
Obedient loved choo choo trains, lil Ardie. Every time he sat in one, he felt like he was racing against everything and anything outside. The humongous tress, the tiny shrubs, the wide hills, and the bright Sun, he’d whiz past them like a Superman! And even the mighty roaring wind that beat against his face would say No Obedient! I’m faster than you! You can’t beat me in this race! But our Obedient would smile and say O sturdy wind! I will not falter at your mightiness! I will zoom and vroooooom towards the finish line, and you can never stop me wind! Now, watch me get to the finish line!
Did he win, mama?
He never won, Ardie. Nature always beat him to it. He’d get to the finish line all right, but the Sun would be there already, the trees and the wind too! He never gave up though. He would enjoy every single bit of the race and its thrill whenever he travelled by train.
The city was quite far away from his town, Ardie. It was a very long journey and as night dawned all the passengers in the choo choo train fell asleep, except our dear lil Obedient. He was wide awake and stared at the window for a long long time. The voice of the train was peaceful. He wanted to sleep, but he kept his eyes peeled because he wanted to listen to the sound of the train as it drove forth on the railway tracks. He even pressed his ear against the floor of his compartment and woke his father up. What is it child? The father asked. Where is that sound coming from, papa? Obedient asked. Ah, it’s from the engine Obedient. The train’s engine is underneath you.
Really, papa? he asked astonished. That is so amazing, papa! I love listening to the sound it makes!
Oh! You foolish child. Do you believe me for everything I utter?
Yes papa, I do.
Then don’t, Obedient. You mustn’t believe everyone for everything they say.
But, why not papa?
Sleep, child. We’ll reach the station soon, the father says and soon starts snoring. The mother makes low grunting noises and Ardita laughs.
Mama? Why does the father say that?
Because he was joking, Ardie, and he did not want Obedient to be so naive and believe everything that was told to him, the good things as well as the bad things. But, that doesn’t mean you must stop believing everything, Ardie. It means you have to be smart enough to see through the lie.
How, mama? How can I be smart?
You’ll learn that soon love. Obedient was smart. He knew that all the harsh things the father told him whenever Obedient climbed his neighbours’ trees to steal some mangoes, or read a book in the company of dark, or break the neighbours’ window while playing cricket, he knew his father never meant any of it and he’d scold him because he cared for his child and didn’t want anything bad happening to him.
Obedient knew all of it and he quickly drifted away to his dreamland with a smile.
Years passed by and our lil Obedient grew up to be a handsome young man. He moved to another city, far away from his home, to study in a college.
I WANT TO GROW UP AND GO TO COLLEGE MAMA! Ardita squeals excitedly.
The mother smiles. You will, Ardie. 12 years seems like a very long time, but time certainly does fly by quickly!
One day, he decided to pay a visit to his old mother and father. He missed his mother dearly. Obedient was the only one among his siblings who’d go out and buy all the groceries. He’d sit beside her and clean the vegetables. He’d watch her cook from afar and help her with all the daily chores. His lovely mother would even save some extra chicken curry for her beloved son because he loved her curry so much! She was a beautiful, poised and a very graceful woman, Ardie. All the good manners and good thoughts that Obedient imbibed, I mean learned, were from her. She once told Obedient that one must never be mean to anyone because we all, in the end, seek kindness and love, Ardie.
Even a big bully like Lionel, mama?
Even him Ardie. He’s still shrouded, or covered, by the dark to see that there are people who love him for the good person he is and not for the bad boy mask he wears.
You think he’s acting?
We all have different characters within us that surface in different situations. They are all tied to the Oh-so-many! emotions we harbour.
Hmm…. Cooper and I will say sorry to him, mama. It wasn’t that nice of us.
What did you do Ardita?
I laughed at him and called him Porky the pig. I feel so terrible now! She closes her eyes and exhales slowly. That’s the first thing I’ll do once I reach school-apologize.
The mother ruffles her hair. It all takes time, Ardita. It takes time to put things in their places.
Yeah. It takes a lot of time to put my toys back in their proper places. I don’t like cleaning my room because it is so boring!
Then you shouldn’t create much mess in your room love. When there is less clutter, you have less things to sort out.
But I have so much fun while playing that I forget that I’m making a mess mommy!
Ah! It happens to all of us here, doesn’t it? We lose ourselves in doing something, we forget the consequences it brings in its wake.
Ma, what happens next?
Oh yes! The story! Ah. Yeah. So, where was I? I’ve forgotten where I stopped….
You were telling me about Obedient’s mother and how much they loved each other.
Did I tell you he decides to pay them a visit?
Aha! So, Obedient booked for a train ticket and the day for his long journey finally arrived. He didn’t call his mother up to tell her that he had already left for the station because he was going to see her the next day anyway. However, during the train ride, Ardie, Obedient gets a call from his eldest brother. He told Obedient that their mother….
MOMMY! NO! PLEASE DON’T TELL ME WHAT I THINK IT IS! Mommy no she didn’t….she didn’t…. Ardita covers her eyes with her palms and tears roll across her face. No! No! No! No! I want a happy ending mommy. YOU MAKE ME CRY ALL THE TIME! YOU ALWAYS DO! YOU NEVER TELL ME HAPPY STORIES LIKE AUNT COLOURFUL!
You always do. She sniffles. You always make me cry.
The mother stiffens and stares at her daughter.
I saw you and daddy fight last night. I-I-I wasn’t sleeping then. It was so horrible. You made daddy cry. You make everyone EVERYONE CRY. She screams.
I-I’m so sorry you had to see all that, baby. She whispers and tucks a lock of Ardita’s hair behind her ear with her quivering fingers. I promise that will never happen again. She breaks down sobbing.
Mama! I’m sowie. I’m sowie. I’m so sowie. Please don’ cry. She wipes her tears with her little palms and hugs her mother. You won’t leave me and daddy, will you?
Never, Ardie. She says and kisses Ardita’s head. I’m always here beautiful. I’m always by your side. Do you want to sleep with me and daddy tonight?
Mmm. She nods her head.
We can watch Inside Out too, if you’d like.
But daddy is already asleep!
He’d love to watch a movie with you.
Won’t he get mad, mummy?
Well, he’s not Obedient’s dad, is he? Lil Ardie’s dad is always excited about watching a movie with his daughter, even if he’s awoken from a deep slumber. Let’s hop out of the bed and shake your snoring daddy awake.
But you’ll have to finish your story before that, mama.
Do you want me to?
All right! Obedient was devastated, Ardie. He had a chance to talk to her one last time, but it slipped through his fingers and thereafter, he never could hear his mother’s voice, or see her cook, or taste her food, or feel her touch. She passed away before she could see her precious son. The mother looked forward to meet him, Ardie. But death arrived at the scene all too soon.
Ardita’s eyes glisten with tears.
Obedient was grief-stricken for many years. He had friends. He married a beautiful clever woman and had a lovely daughter whom he loved very much. He’d tell her stories about his childhood, his mischiefs, his mother and father. Every time Obedient talked about his mother, the memories that resurfaced in his head would make him cry. His daughter would cry along with him too because she longed to meet her wonderful grandmother.
He soon realized though that it was time for him to move on. His mother would have never wished for him to feel such pain and sorrow.
Obedient remembered his little daughter on a swing. He remembered how she always pleaded with him to push her high up into the air. Once more, daddy! Once more! She’d say. But one day, he saw her pushing herself to and fro and go up up UP into the air and laugh with delight. Obedient soon realized that he had to push himself too to move on from his sadness.
Did he, mama?
Many a time he was thrown backward, but he always gathered the strength to push himself forward. Sometimes, his wife would, and sometimes his daughter. But in the end he’d strive and he was always happy despite all the hard times. And whenever he was unhappy, he’d watch a lot of train videos and remember all the good times he had in trains. Obedient and his family lived happily ever after.
I miss Grandpa.
Me too, honey.
Obedient’s grandpa, isn’t he?
What makes you say that? She asks astonished.
Because grandpa told me lots of train stories.
Oh! Is that so?
Yup! He told me that those stories were a secret and that’s why I never told you. Don’t tell him mummy, this is our secret. Okay?
The mother laughs. All right, all right. You can count on me Pilot Ardie! Now let’s go to bed. It’s too late already.
WHAT ABOUT INSIDE OUT?!
Ardie, I’m sleepy!
MOM YOU PROMISED!
“What’s going on in there?”, I say as I open the door wholly.
DADDY! Ardita exclaims and rushes toward me, taking me in for a tight hug.
“Ow! Ardie! You’re too strong for me and my bones are cracking!” She chuckles. “Besides, I’m not sleepy at all. I bid Mr.Sleepy Sleepy good bye and wished him good night so that we can watch a movie together. Inside out, did you say?” May raises one of her eyebrows and looks at me suspiciously.Oh yeah! I wasn’t supposed to know that! I bite my tongue at my idiocy. Way to go Parker! You just blew your own cover.
May finally gets up from the bed and says Well, I can’t say no to that now. This is going to be a long night.
Ardita runs toward the living room and I stand there staring at my wife. I smile. “It’s going to be a memorable night May. I promise.” She gives a weary smile and says Wanna hug it out, chump?
“Chump, eh?” And I go for it, leaving all that had happened last night behind.
(Source: click on me!)
Dear fellow human,
Often, it feels like the whole World is closing in upon me and torturing me with the daily routine I’m forced to live by Fates. Sometimes, I think that my life story is probably the most boring and mundane one out of the lot. No surprises. No gusts of excitement. Everything is constant and even the ever flowing time seems to be relatively at rest because I don’t, and can’t, feel the subtle changes. This place has nothing to offer me and here I lay behind a screen, rotting away to the monotony of my life.
But one day, you came by and a conversation ensued. You will never know how relieved I was to finally break free from the constancy I’m bound to again, even if it was for a while. It was light and engaging. It was like two old pals catching up with each other again. It was refreshing to finally be in the company of someone new and someone remotely strange.
I have to let you in on a secret, things bore me easily. I may sound conceited and probably heartless when I say that I try my best to dodge the radars of people I’m extremely close to because of the sameness and the repetition. Don’t get me wrong. I love them all immensely, and I’d do anything for them and their happiness. But, at times, it weighs down upon me and I’m forced to resort to solitary to ease me off the burden of boredom. Fates are so cruel to someone who wants to seek out new experiences everyday. People usually say that a person can’t have everything in their lives. What’s lacking in my life is an adventure and opportunities to create long-lasting memories that I will take with me to my grave with a smile.
Wake up to the cacophonous and shrill alarm that is merely carrying out its duties dutifully early in the morning. Freshen up. Eat. Study. Blog. Talk to your parents and friends. Go out. Visit the same old worn out places. Eat. Study. Blog. Talk. Type. Talk. Type. Sleep. Wake up. Repeat. It’s a loop. It’s an iteration loop without a terminating statement. It’s a C++ loop gone incredibly wrong. It’s a loop of tedium that frustrates and pulls at every fibre of my brain.
I want to pulverize what confines me within and feel, touch, see, hear, taste, and satisfy this sense of impulsiveness. I want to be on the brink of old to usher in new. I want to dance along to the rhythm of transience. I want my bare feet to grace the barren land and feel the sands of Bondi against my skin. I want the tranquillity of the Mountains and the chaos of a First-World urban. I want to pry open the different Worlds in our World and experience each and every one of them. I want the solitude. I want the spotlight. I want new people. I want the old ones. I want both the extremes.
There are so many desires welling up within me that it seems hard for me to constrain them. Passion for different is a rabid dog. It has bit me and now I’m infected with its disease. The only cure, therefore, lies in seeking and feeling strangeness. That’s why I held onto you because you were an embodiment of unfamiliarity to me. That’s why I liked talking to you because you were a harbinger of change in my life.
Soon, you’d wear out too. That luminescence due to unknown will lessen due to known, and I will yet again embark on another journey to scrounge for the different. I sound vain. I’m aware of that. But, it’s now how you think it’s like. I’d come back for you. I’m always there for you. I love you, and always will, but a person like me only wishes to touch every element of this World before her time is up.
Come with me if you’d like. We can intrude upon the hidden together with our wild untamed hearts thumping for exhilaration. If you don’t wish to, that’s all right too. But, I’d never be able to thank you enough for stalling the humdrum for a while. I want you to know that my wildness will never be the death of our relationship. Ask me what I want, I’ll tell you that I want everything. All of it.
An advocate for educational video games realizes that our kids might actually learn more from Civilization, Minecraft, Call of Duty and World of Warcraft. Everything changed at a lunch with the legendary game designer Sid Meier. For years, I’d been making the case that we should borrow from the games kids love to create new kinds of…
CAN LIKE SOMEONE PLEASE TELL THIS TO MY MOM?! Nah uh not me, I’m too scared.