Dilemma!!!

Hey... I always wanted to do this with an air of convenience. The words should just flow out from my mind to the edit box. I was waiting for the time this happened. The longer I wait the more I realized there is no such time. Things have to come forth in two ways...

1. By perfecting the art after a number of attempts trying to make it better which is actually starting right now.

2. To actually be so convinced, passionate and eager to write and share that a write up is just a fall out of the process of expression.

Turns out, I am neither deft at playing with vocabulary nor too passionate and convinced about my opinions and beliefs that I produce a work qualified as worth attention.

But the lack of a well maintained lexicon must be compensated by the will to tell a story. A story; comprising fictional creations of my mind, my views, my take on the circus. But when one knows just about as much as to get humbled by the grand scheme of things one turns out to be a big loser. The reprieve for it seems to be a slow poison; steadily eating into my mental faculties, rendering my wordplay useless and ineffective.

So before I present PRASHANT, the being to the world...

I already present a shoddy attempt. People who care please keep watching this space!

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A Kindergarten Eye View of an Ideal World!

One fine day a child was put forth to the mercy of mortals on the 1st of Jan 1986! This is his take on a new world around him. "Here I was treading into a different world and you have no idea of the magnitude of 'different'; A place they called school, about which I was made to feel excited as if being taken to Disneyland. How another was it... oh… no adult could ever imagine! Nervous, anxious, choked whatever you call the feeling, I would simply describe it as being ‘on the verge of tears’. The build-up leading to the D-day (first day at school) was cleverly planned. I was beaming with a false sense of pride developed from reciting stupid somethings, in an alien but sweet language, to every single visitor at home. But all these rituals had an ulterior motive! I was going to find out for the first time that, apart from my cousins and other kids in my building, there are innumerable 3 or 4 year olds' in the world. Apparently, they too were tricked into comin...

MAYA - PART 1

Nothing in that moment of tranquil sun suggested anything wrong. I was standing in a dreamy room overlooking the Parvati Valley in the laps of Himalayas. She liked nature so much that she painted her own little outdoors on the walls. A rising, glistening sun froze-rising forever on the golden sky that was her wall. It complemented the real one for most part of the year, like brothers posing one in front of the other. She had told me that her mornings began comparing the real and her wall sun. Real and surreal. Both were both to her depending on mood. On the opposite wall was a dark and dense valley, again, just like the one outside. It played heavily on the minds of first-time visitors to her shack. But it comforted her, she said. Sometimes, over and against the real view. I first saw Maya in the clouds - somewhere over the Caspian Sea. She was standing in front of the restroom from where I was taking forever to come out. Flights make it harder for me to go! ...

IDENTITY

I opened my eyes. The left one felt skin obstructing its opening. The right one opened up to a sight of nostrils; beautiful, pale, white nostrils. But it took me both 5 minutes and a year to make sense of this sight. The flooded banks of the mighty Brahmaputra had brought me, or us, asunder onto a remote bank. My head was resting on a woman's belly. She was motionless, just like I was 5 minutes ago. I sat up. On my other side I could see and hear the river in full spate. Hut material, animal carcass and endless stream of branches and twigs drifted past as a stream within a stream. I tried hard to make sense of the sight around. The moment I realised I had leaned on a woman, I jerked myself on my feet and away from her. I looked around. Not a soul. Only nature made sound. I pushed myself for answers towards the woman. She was dead... Three months ago an Indian journalist had landed at the Guwahati International Airport. Next to him on the same flight was an anxiou...

This Night

Laila is playing Holi with her relatives in their ancestral home. In a remote Uttar Pradesh village, this has been the yearly tradition of the Chaudhari family. One that Laila always looks forward to. But this year her anticipation was adulterated with dread. The elders say they will wait for her graduation. But preceding Chaudhari marriages indicate otherwise. Elsewhere in a village of Haryana state, three men died after consuming spurious liquor. Their wives are crying their hearts out. These tears are mixed with pain; not only from the loss. As they wail, one of the ladies' sore throat hurts. Another woman's badly bruised lips and chest hurt as the salty liquid flows down her face. The third is pregnant for the fourth time and has travelled back from her parent's home for the funeral. As is the practice and widely believed, no, she was not at her parents for pregnancy period but to collect the latest instalment of promised dowry. The wound marks on her privates ...

Forest of Dreams

I am an eternal romantic in the broadest sense of the term. Some people, places, events, situations, mannerisms and even some self-reflection exercises create an everlasting spool of thoughts out of which I weave dreams. Motivational salience makes me revisit one such beautiful dream. A forest of dreams I fashioned, where one day, rather one frosty twilight she walks in... ...this girl. She walks all uneasy. Uneasy and unsure. I hardly notice her presence. But in her absence, her anticipation makes me feel many things. Nervousness, plunges and contractions and waves of expectation in stomach. But nothing now when she's here. Her presence doesn't make me smile. I hope it never does because it denies her omnipotence in my mind. She has a warmth about her that does not exude any aura. It's just there. Reassuring as ever. There is nothing in the world, fictional or real, that could be more important than having her by my side. If I were ever to tell her how I feel, I ...

Prashant's Solace

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