What I'm made up of

I am made up of skepticism and  belief at the same time.
Torn between notions of love, joy, loss,and solitude.
Somewhere in friendship, in education, in literature, in music, in good stuff to read, in silent nights, in cold winters, in the thuds of the curtains flapping against the wall, in the sound of my guitar, in the rustling of leaves in the middle of the night,  in the feel of the cool breeze play with my hair left open to dance around, in those tales about putting up a fight, in Van Gogh's Starry Night, and in the suicide note of Curt Kobain, I see myself. Right there.Trapped and never wanting to get out.

That Kaleidoscope

In the broken kaleidoscope of songs long-forgotten, I sometimes hear your voice float around.Like it has entered my life somehow, but isn't ready to leave.

They seem to be calling me to some place,where I think i must have been to in my dreams.Somewhere close to the home of my limitless heart.

I wake up suddenly and find my mind fluttering in a haze of things I could not say.Trapped in a limbo inside the mind of a person in whose shoes I could never be.

I feel like I was on a highway to peace, but suddenly my car broke down,and there is no one around I can call out for help.

Your face, a distant memory now still manages to seem so vivid at nights,when I'm quarreling myself to sleep.There must be something that I have left unfinished.Something that I could not say, Something that you did not hear. Something that didn't fall into place.

I'm scared to admit the things I feel, scared to call out your name. What if you don't answer back, this time over again? Sometimes I want to torch up my love, set every thing aflame and wait till my heart gets charred by the smoke... The smoke of all that my fiery love had to offer.

All those times when my composure starts to tear at its seams,all the hell that I'd kept well tucked-up, breaks lose somehow.And then a hundred vivid illusions begin to cloud my senses.And it scares me like a child who lost her father on a busy street.

When the tiredness of the barren heart,that's long forgotten love, when it seeps into my soul,I suddenly realise I lost something I didn't even know I wanted so bad, all along.Somewhere between the heartaches,when my luck outran my love, I realise I did all that I could.

Then out of nowhere, that bout of love suddenly hits me like a dose of dope,knocking my senses out. And all the things that I could not say,just flash through my mind like little specs of different hues and colors.

Then all ceases to exist.Silence scales the miles in between, and there's nothing left for me to feel.All ceases and just that yearning remains.That part of me that wished to be loved, will soon now fade away.And then you'll find what's left of me, in that broken kaleidoscope.

The Big Gang Theory

“God gave us our relatives; thank God we can choose our friends.”

                                                                                                      -Ethel Watts Mumford

Well, I must bestow my gratitude on Mr. Mumford here. For he has summed up an irony of a lifetime in one precise and crisp sentence.
The faintest of memories that have remained from my childhood are those where I remember being a Cuddle-bag for the entire set of relatives or those where I remember making my first friends. I remember my little hands digging into dirt to pull out small pebbles and building a spaceship with them (No wonder I wanted to be an astronaut, but alas! 'Growing up' got in the way)... I remember tugging at my Baba's shirt, going round and round in circles with puppy eyes focused stubbornly at his face, till he finally agreed to take me out to meet my first 'boy-friend'... Funny I put it in quotes, but truth is I didn't use to make a lot of girl-friends back then. I guess girls didn't like me because I was very bossy. Very very bossy.

Contrary to most girls my age, I liked baking in the sun in the Ranchi summer heat, wearing my decently long hair plastered to my scalp with oil and made into tight plaits and playing cricket! They comprise my fondest memories I must say.

They were my 'wolf-pack' you could say... and of course like every other girl I too had that one friend I could not do without. This friend of mine was a legacy passed on. We were 'her father and my father were good friends, so we are good friends' friends.

But as time would have it, my hair grew longer, the boys metamorphosed into little tykes and my cricket went for a very long, never to end 'time-out', and I finally started making friends with girls, though I can clearly say ,they weren't fond of me. And I missed out on the best emotion my childhood could have had, for I never really had a good, true friend.

Since then however, a lot of things have changed. Maybe that's because I had chosen to change as well.

By now, the importance of friends has somehow now reached a new, sacred height. The kind where you can re-schedule tickets to be there for her birthday, the kind where he stays up all night talking just because you are scared, the kind where they simply go on a mad spending spree along with you, just because you are depressed, the kind where even if you meet after no matter how many years, it always feels like yesterday when you used to make houses with building blocks, and just yesterday when you guys used to discuss about 'that' guy at class, and so many more things.

I may not be old enough to pass a judgment about my life that I have had, or rather have been having, but I sure have realized a few things. Not all friends will still grow up to be friends. Not all of them will miss you. Very few of them will stay in touch. And the foremost of all, you too will learn and want to let go off a few friendships here and there. There will be fights, letting downs, 'sorry's, and other things you wish that weren't there. But they will be.

However, out of every ten friends, there shall be at least one who will be 'your person', the one who will know what to say when, and when to shut up and let you mourn, the one who'll take care of you. So no matter how many friends you have, I am sure we have found that set of 'our people'.

And I consider myself very lucky, because I have managed to have my own 'big gang' and have formulated what I like to call my ‘Big Gang Theory’:

“Make friends. A lot of friends. Have friends who are normal, weird, funny, not-so-funny, chilled out, paranoid, geeky, dorky, 'jugaadu', 'fattu', hot, cool, amazing, impossible to understand, well more kinds if possible. Have a big big gang. And somewhere among this Big Gang of friends you'll find a set of people who will stand out. Who will be 'your people' someday and some point in your life... and no matter how unlikely it may seem to people around you, a few of them will be your friends no matter what."

This Big Gang theory is my survival theory. We sustain, support, insult, hold-up, stand up for, make fun of, and be there for each other. This Big Gang Theory is the story of my own little universe. And hell yeah, my universe is expanding!

First Flight

Well, so finally i have something that I can call a blog of my own.
'The Broken Clock' is my attempt to stop the 'mad-race' clock for a few minutes, to take a bit of time-out to see the things,situations,dreams,and realities of our life with a different perspective.
The simple things in life are often the ones we end up making a mess of, the things that should be said are the ones we keep gulping down our throats.Not because we don't want to. But because it's hard and we are scared.We are scared of not living our dreams,scared that our efforts won't be appreciated,scared of not being loved back.Scared of this and scared of that.
But for what? The only thing that inhibitions brought along ever, is more inhibitions.The more we feed our fears and doubts, the more they grow.
So, I'd be the girl who likes to take her share of time to figure things out. I'd be the girl who tries to hold the book at a distance, to see what's written more clearly.I'd be the girl who likes to play when the risks run high, the girl who  apologizes when she's sorry, is indifferent when she's not, the one who calls up when she misses you and likes to keep things simple, the one who 'spits it out', and also the one who can be a real whiner at times, with her being vocal about almost anything and everything.
But above all, I'd be the girl who likes looking at a broken clock for sometime.For, looking at it somehow is comforting.It's good to let yourself know that it's okay not to be in a hurry all the time.

Right now what i feel like one of those tiny swallows, perched at the edge of a wall, waiting for their first flight, just like I wait for mine as I am about the hit 'publish' to my first ever blog post.
Feels great, eh!