Ishwarya's Blog, page 5

#Can’tStandIt

I don’t know how many of you guys have read two of my older posts – Text Language Should Be Made Illegal and Signs You’re Addicted To Social Media, but I guess now that I mentioned the titles, you can get the gist that I am not a fan of abbreviating a language nor spending time on social media.

Let me clear the air first.

I do use social media – WordPress is definitely a social medium and I love being on this platform that hosts just what I love doing – writing. It has also given me a reasonable number of blogger friends with whom I like interacting with. I also use Whatsapp, excluding the fact I uninstall it from time to time without a second thought when I need to write my book with no distractions.

But I don’t use Facebook, Twitter or Instagram or any other popular media which I’m not familiar with. I used to be urged to get onto them, and now I’m urged to stay where I am and not to enter into those platforms. I’m not going to get into the reasons but I do have one personal reason to avoid a certain headache that comes with today’s package deal.

Hashtags.

It’s turned into this language that I think will be recorded into history.

#My #Whatsapp #Status #Inbox #Delivers #An #Anthology #Of #Hashtags #That #When #You #Remove #Them, will turn into a sentence.

I don’t think people really look up tags like, #Cantfindmybestoutfit or #Ishouldprobablyliveinahole.

Or #Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh.

Space bar on your keyboard not working properly or something? Cause most of these are from Smartphone keyboards rather than the ones on a computer or a laptop.

Hashtags are actually pointers for browsers to get to the topic of their choice quickly. Things like #Books, #Politics, #Makeup, #Movies and other authentic stuff. And I think using a number less than ten for any post would be neat.

But the status updates, whether it’s Facebook or Whatsapp, that explode with the naughts and crosses grid are downright cringe-worthy and I’m not exaggerating. Even the normal Whatsapp statuses of some people have hashtags. For example, they’d have a profile picture of, say, a puppy. And the status below will read – Cutie pie #Iwantone #Isn’thesooooooooooooocuteeeeee

A status update of another will have a video of their safari ride atop an elephant in some other country or some other part of the same country you live in, with the caption – Had the best day of my life!

That sounds okay.

But what’s with these? – #Gottatrythis #Guyssssssssssss

It’s not cool or a pretty sight.

At all.

It actually labels the person as completely eccentric, in my opinion.

What do you think about the hashtag script, guys?

~~~~~    

Click here to follow Deepika Kumaaraguru on Goodreads

 

Through The Orca’s Eyes

Blue.

Black and white.

These are the colours associated to home, my life, and everything that is ever a part of me. My home has no boundaries for the free spirit, being a free spirit itself in the first place. No one can control it, nor contain it. It’s a blue universe of mysteries.

I’m born into this blue.

My soul is connected to my family in black and white, each echoing call forging another secure and thick layer to the bonds that keep us alive and hold any purpose of existence.

Happiness lies in cruising through this blue.

Joy lies in allowing that emotion to lift our bodies out of it and splash back into its welcoming haven.

Care lies in protecting one another.

Compassion lies in how frequently we make gentle physical contact with each other to ensure safety and security.

Fun lies in playtime and watching the little ones imitate the adults.

Curiosity lies in wondering what those mysterious creatures are.

Mysterious creatures that come to see us.

Those mysterious creatures are small, but interestingly built. I mistook them for a unique species of starfish during my first encounter but starfish stay permanently in the blue, without vanishing, unlike this mysterious creature that vanishes to the world above the surface.

A world I nor my family can physiologically be compatible with.

A peripheral vision in my subconscious alerts me to the reality that I am always better off in this blue. Then why, why do I feel a warmth of emotions from the mysterious creatures when I sense the exact opposite from the world they come from? They resemble my family, but with a range of black and white instead of a default tone, each one very beautiful in their own way.

Their mode of cruising through the ocean have no resemblance to ours, yet, wonderfully enough, the strong currents created by their cruise are a joy to combine our cruise with.

Whenever I poke my face out to get a closer look at them, they get excited when I do.

They look different when they jump into my home however, covered in something that obviously helps them in here. And they follow us closely, in a smart technique that they never get in our way. Kind and considerate creatures.

Regardless of whether they are above or below, when one of their eyes meet mine and don’t break the gaze, a powerful chord strikes in my heart and nerves. Some have shifted their attention to the other parts of me that are optically accessible to them but the ones whose gazes centre on mine for an intense and perpetual period have their souls calling out to mine. I am immediately magnetised, and experience an overwhelming sensation that tells me I have nothing to fear from the mysterious creature.

I will protect it if I have to.

Which draws me nearer.

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One very compassionate soul, cruising by herself above the surface, one day called out to me without jumping in. It was a deep yearning that I could not dismiss. And when I cautiously drew near, she made an interesting noise with one of her limbs by dipping it into the water, her invitation very enthusiastic. Wary yet curious, I steered closer and decided to glide along, nudging myself to a simple stroke from her that made me feel incredibly loved, a love quite different from what I get from my family. This is why she was calling out to me.

A craving to be near me for as long as she possible could hid inside that gentle caress, which wasn’t hard to decode. What she touched me with was so warm and filled with maternal compassion that I allowed myself to experience it again as the cruise took us along, her stroke gliding against the side of my body. I sensed a small amount of concern over herself before she dared to touch me the first time and when she found out her fear was unnecessary, she rewarded me with her maternal empathy over and over, every time I cruised closer after drawing away for a while.

These mysterious creatures never have to fear us at all. If they see us working towards our food supply, they can get rid of any anxiety that we will incorporate the same attitude towards them. There’s always a distinction between them and what we go after.

The mysterious creatures radiate nothing but tender fascination that only mesmerise us, shaking awake our own fascination of them and a desire to observe them the same way they do us.

Shame we do not share a common language.

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~~~~~    

Click here to follow Deepika Kumaaraguru on Goodreads

When Are You Who You Really Are?

I think this is a million dollar question everyone is hunting the answer for. You may have come across a similar analysis in another blog post too. Just last night, I was reading Taylor Swift’s Reputation magazine, where in the intro she’s mentioned how we present the version of ourselves we want to present to the world. And I got to thinking, then when are we who we really are? When is the exact moment or hour you are your own true self? Is it when we are cranky and irate to our family members or comforting a best friend? Or when we’re happy and liberated during a holiday tour or trying to exercise patience when you’re loaded with a lot of work and responsibilities?

I’ve seen people be extremely happy when they’re about to fly off for a one week holiday. The previous night, you’d be sweeping the necessary essentials into your bag along with all your clothes and would be preparing to eliminate all kinds of stress or troubling thoughts so you can enjoy every single second of the holiday. Cause that’s what the entire point of this holiday is: Forgetting about things that can get you down. Though the elimination isn’t accomplished completely while you’re still in the house, it can be a done deal once you’re well out of the perimeter.

It’s like throwing one object after the other out of a moving vehicle. The empty bag in your hands is peace, the bag you’ll load with other stuff at the destination of the holiday.

It’s even better when you have teammates. The enthusiasm for the trip contributed by each person combines into this bright ray of sunshine that makes you skip around and laugh.

But after your holiday is over and you’re back in the house, the reality of life comes back to challenge you and sometimes when you can’t plan or prioritise your work, or things don’t go the way you wish to, that’s when you either exercise patience or explode with irritation.

So who’s this person who throws back their head and laughs into the sky while you’re having fun and the person who’s trying to pull through each day while faced with challenges you’d rather not be faced with? When are you who you really are?

Are you the kind and considerate soul to a person who you don’t see around that much? Or are you the cranky elf to the ones you have to see day after day, especially at your place of employment?

Are you the insecure child who’s afraid of anyone and anything and can’t find a place in this world, or are you the strong, confident young adult who can grab a meanie by the collar and drive your knee into its solar plexus, while shades of your former insecurity sometimes rear their head in another situations where you can’t use your knee like that?

Are you the emotional and sensitive teenager who can lash out on anyone because your jar of Nutella spilled all over the kitchen floor or are you the calm and measured adult who now cleans it spotlessly and runs out for a fresh jar, while emotional because your favourite artifact broke instead?

When are we who we really are?

I guess the answer to this question is, we’re ourselves in every situation. The happy, emotional, irritated, confused, mischievous, insecure, angry, patient, fun … it’s all a part of who you are.

When everyone else is enjoying the cricket match and yelling at the screen, you’re drawing in your sketch-note, quiet. That’s you. And that’s them.

When everyone wants to try oysters, you’d rather settle for the safe chicken. That’s you. And that’s them.

When your best friend is crying at the ending of the movie, you’re just sitting there wondering what’s there to cry about (And you’re alleged to be heartless). That’s you. And that’s her.

When everyone would like to have that plump goat roasted for dinner, you want to keep it as a pet and play with it. That’s you. And that’s them.

We’re all this incredible package deal of who we really are.

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Live it.

Experience it.

Have an amazing evening ahead.

Best,

Deepika

~~~~~

Click here to follow Deepika Kumaaraguru on Goodreads

My ‘Little’ Allergy

‘Please switch that fan off, I’m freezing!’

‘You’re going to turn on the air conditioner? No, don’t reduce it to 16 degrees!’

Whoever I say that to raise an eyebrow, and then either don’t listen to me or make a negotiation that they term as being ‘Okay, it’s not that cold now’ (Actually, it still is), and then proceed onto saying, ‘Jeez, don’t you ever say you lived in the United Kingdom if you have such meager resistance to a breeze.’

I’ve heard that phrase more than a thousand times and it doesn’t make me any more compatible with a chilly temperature.

I get cold easy.

Too easily.

Right now, it’s still winter and I think the electric bill will be saved by a few hundred rupees till March or April until the heat really starts to kick in.

Yes, I have lived in the UK all my childhood and yes the winters are terribly cold there and I have lived in that too, but it doesn’t mean I’ve developed layers of insulation the way everyone assumes I have. I don’t know if the insulation is granted to former NRIs who have now moved back to India but I don’t have that insulation and I feel perfectly fine with owning an entire jacket store if that’s what it takes to repel whatever cold bites my skin. Even if the said cold originates from a normal domestic air conditioner at 20 degrees.

I don’t care if people think I’m crazy.

Because if I don’t wrap a blanket around myself or throw on a jacket wondering what other people would think of me and whether they think I’m an idiot, that’s when I become the real idiot.

Shivering isn’t my idea of fun.

I hate the cold.

If I go to the movie theatre, like Inox, I always take a sweater with me.

During a few December nights, I’ve walked around the house with a sweater on when no one else does.

En route to Kurukshetra on Jan Sadapti, I’ve sat with a woollen blanket wrapped tightly around myself when no one else in the train did. I got teased by my family members but that made no difference. I saw fellow passengers, girls around the same age as me, in short sleeved tops but that had no sort of impact on me either.

So what, they feel okay with the air conditioner and I don’t. I feel cold and I will have this blanket wrapped around me until we get down at the sunny station.

If you’re like me, having a weak resistance to a chilly breeze, and if you’re afraid to throw on a jacket because everyone else thinks you’re being ridiculous, don’t be.

Only you know what makes your body feel comfortable to the surroundings and to make yourself feel comfortable, don’t listen to other people. They’ll only make fun for, like, a few seconds and when they realise it all goes through one ear and comes out the other, they’ll give up. Pay attention to only what you really need and don’t put yourself in an uncomfortable situation thinking you can win over what you are not at all capable of resisting.

Know yourself and don’t be afraid of being who you are.

Have a great day ahead.

Jai Shree Krishna

The Reality of Fantasy

Okay, so I’ve had my mind go off in a strange tangent (no surprise there) and an idea grabbed my attention while I was in the middle of my daily routine.

You know how everyone speculates about aliens? Other planets where there may be life? Non-terrestrial intelligence?

I was wondering about it and I’m not sure whether a certain kind of curiosity is valid or not. Almost everyone is aware of the Big Bang Theory (not the sitcom), about how the universe burst forth from a concentration of energy, in a tide of protons, electrons and neutrons that got attracted towards each other to form stars, planets and galaxies. As an aftermath, the universe is still expanding.

It’s so breathtakingly incredible and infuriating that our imaginations can never beat the infinity. Even if the universe does have a perimeter end to it, what is outside it then? Just how long does infinity go? How far? When did time start existing? Before time started to exist, what existed? Where is the origin? When was the origin? Damn, do my eyes cross when I try to imagine all this stuff. So, if we somehow succeed in creating this super rocket with the speed of light to find out the end of the universe, how long will we have to go? It’ll be like going, going , g o i n g , g  o   i  n  g  ,  g     o     i     n     g      .     .     .     .

Okay, let’s not hurt ourselves.

I strongly believe we cannot be the only living, breathing people or creatures in general. There must be life out there too. Earth being the only planet rich with this sounds impossible in this never ending universe.

I’ve heard a theory about how there’s someone watching us.

Every single one of us.

Not God.

But a creation of His.

Someone, an ethereal intelligence, has their eye on us.

But we can’t see them.

Aside from aliens monitoring the homo sapiens, I’ve been wondering about the fictional worlds created in books.

Combine the rumination of existence of other life giving planets with these worlds we read about. What do you get?

Still don’t get what my brain thought?

Okay, what if, what if, Hogwarts actually existed?

I know you’re staring at me but think about it.

Rowling may have been inspired on a train journey but what if she’d really received a subconscious radar from the planet, too many millions of galaxies away, that had the real Hogwarts? The real Harry Potter who chose Rowling from Planet Earth to get his story through? What if the non-terrestrial intelligence monitoring outer space put these ideas into Rowling’s head as a result of the real Harry Potter really existing in some planet that cannot be accessible for the human race for another million years?

Take Twilight too.

Frozen vampires and shape shifting werewolves.

Living in another planet, whose idea of existence was passed into Stephanie Meyer’s mind through the NTIs. And it’s not the only story about vampires and werewolves. Every single world created from these mythical creatures must have their place in some other part of the universe, each and every single one of them. Even the Vampire Diaries sitcom. Or what if an entire planet is owned by vampires and werewolves where all the vampire stories to exist in the literary world have their own eras?

The invasion of aliens in The Host. What if another Planet Earth had really been taken over by the selfless souls, just like in the book, with the same Melanie Stryder, Wanderer, Ian O’Shea, Jared Howe and Jamie Stryder featuring in it?

I don’t think there’s any proof to deny this.

Or prove it either, but if the universe has an infinite border that can’t be known to the human eye, then so does unlimited varieties of existence of all life forms.

Maybe the Mahabharata is taking place right at this moment in another planet. Or the Ramayana. You got any proof to say it ain’t possible? Nope, not me.

Or Mr Darcy is proposing to Elizabeth right now.

Or Lord Shiva is about to set his eyes on Sati in Meluha for the first time.

Or Meg and Jo are about to get ready to go to their first party and Jo is trying to understand the metrics of a dress.

Charlotte maybe giving Wilbur a web spinning lesson out of a rope tied to his tail.

Maybe Jane just entered Rochester’s household.

Or … the fictional world in my series really does exist too. The NTIs having plugged my subconscious to it, making me receive all the signals.

~~~~~

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The Ride of 2017

Well, hello there, guys! Long time, no see. How are you? I hope everyone is safe, in good health and woke up with a smile and positive thoughts this morning.

I’ve had quite a break from blogging and writing in general for the past month (maybe more). It’s happened before but I always reprimand myself for it. Like, how can I abandon my website and my fictional babies this long? I really hope to be back in the game soon and in full swing, dealing with my ink weapon in the way it should be dealt with and pay undivided attention.

So … 2017 is in its last days – I know, I know, everywhere you turn, people are saying the same thing and I’m setting a very clichéd example right now, I know.

But, it’s the truth, right?

Another year that becomes a part of history and a contribution to nostalgia. The kids in their childhood and teens in their teenage phase are in the middle of creating memories that they’d enjoy coming back to when they become mature adults in another ten years. They’d be looking back at today with a combination of happiness and regret that they can’t get those days of innocence again. Cause I do that. A slideshow of memories plays when I want it to and I crave for Hermione Granger’s time turner.

Ha, good one, Deepika, isn’t that what everyone wants?

Anyway …

2017 just flew.

Flew, I tell you.

I barely hit the full stop on The Ride of 2016 before I’m reminiscing the ride of 2017 now. It’s weird how the momentum, velocity and composition of hours and days are constant without even a microsecond of difference and yet, one year is a tortoise and another year is a hopping bunny. Some are whales too.

I had a bunny year.

A hopping bunny that gave no care to how fast it hopped and jumped into the next year.

This hopping bunny presented a change of city, the ability to finish book four of my fantasy series and start on book five, and, gifted me with the person I was meant to be with for the rest of my life. All my past decisions, every path I ever chose, everything I did, all of them, they had been leading me to him all along.

I wish everyone an advanced Happy New Year 2018!

All I want to say is, be yourself.

You’re made to be this way.

It’s what attracts your loved ones.

It’s what makes your loved ones love you. They, who accept you whole-heartedly for who you really are, your strengths, your weaknesses, your flaws, your style, your personality … it goes on.

You try to be someone you’re not, well, I guess it’ll be like Phoebe saying she’s freaked out because Chandler states he won’t make jokes anymore. Chandler Bing without any jokes is like the sun deciding not to rise from the east anymore.

Be yourself, guys, be yourself.

That’s the advice I’d like to give.

Happy New Year!

 

Be A Human Day

The other day, a discussion was going on at home, when an interesting quote came out of it that I wished to share.

There is Women’s Day, Children’s Day, Mother’s Day, Father’s Day and other Days. It would be nice if there was a Be A Human Day too.

It was constructed and articulated perfectly that I had to admire it. Because, admit it, it is on a specific day like a scheduled date that most people take to really, really appreciating the ones in whose honour that Day is. We appreciate and respect women on Women’s Day (I’ve written a post for Women’s Day too and every March 8, my WordPress reader is dedicated to related topics); We celebrate Children’s Day with kids at school; We tell Mum how much we love her and express it through gifts on Mother’s Day; We tell Dad how much we love him and express it through gifts as well on Father’s Day; And there is Rakshabandan too, when we awake our brothers to the realisation of how much we really love them.

So a Be A Human Day would be just as effective, won’t it?

Putting away the dark side, putting away negative emotions, and embracing your humanity.

Embracing your genuineness.

Embracing your selflessness.

Embracing your kindness.

Embracing your compassion.

Embracing every humane deed you are capable of doing, even if it is just helping your sibling with homework.

Interesting to wonder about just how many beautiful ways a lot of humanity can be brought out at once.

 

 

Older or Younger?

As a child: I am not nine! I am nine and a half, almost ten! You wait till I grow up. Can’t wait.

As an adult: I am not 30, I am 29! Only the completed age counts. God, I really miss my childhood.

Clumsy the Girl

Clumsy the Girl was programmed by default to be the world’s biggest klutz.

God had concocted some kind of mutant butter and dipped her hands into it, drenching her fingers, and make her have household objects take part in the domestic Olympics, clanging and crashing.

A perfectly safe and flat surface tripped her worse than a forest ground could.

Clumsy the Girl had extremely poor patience.

When she found one of the wind chimes to be tangled and attempted to untangle the strings, all she wanted to do was to chuck it at the wall for being such an annoyance after the very first try.

Clumsy the Girl was enemies with electronics.

A computer or a laptop or a DVD player worked perfectly fine in the hands of someone else but when she used them, something always went wrong. All three suffered a smacking when they didn’t obey orders.

Clumsy the Girl had feet that would gladly kick her butt.

The poor little pinky toes frequently bashed painfully headlong into the legs of a table or a desk. Not that the other toes were spared.

Clumsy the Girl did not have common sense at all.

She bought a litre and a half of milk from the evening milkman when she and her family were to leave for a four day holiday in an hour.

Clumsy the Girl was a very, very silly girl.

But Clumsy the Girl was loved immensely, more than she could imagine, by all of her loved ones.

Those Eyes

Shy, feeling like an alien, she entered.

She knew no one, and no one knew her.

None of us were aware of a new student joining us.

She was a girl who could walk down the street without causing a disturbance.

A plain Jane.

She curled into her seat, ready to shut herself, like a tortoise.

None of the guys spared her another glance.

And neither did I, my attention dedicated to my best mates and a special part of it to the walking talking clique of gorgeousness.

Nothing else qualified to give me a good enough distraction.

Until I met those eyes.

Eyes that have no possibility of existing on anyone else like the way they did on the shy soul.

Eyes that held strength, a seeking, a searching, for something unknown.

Eyes that blindfolded my own to the world for that one random moment our gazes locked.

The clique of gorgeousness had blaring beauty.

Those eyes of the shy soul swallowed all of that.

Those eyes shocked me into the epiphany of the stunning beauty before my own, a miracle none of the guys had the sense to notice.

Those eyes occasionally caught mine, but never deliberately.

She barely noticed me.

Not once did she turn in my direction.

Not once did she lock our gazes from just two feet away and shake the earth beneath me again.

Not once did she give me a chance of finding out just what would happen if I looked into those eyes a few seconds more.

The sight from at least ten feet away was frustrating, like a light in the dark snatched away.

She bestowed the light only to the girl next to her, who is not the person to pay that sort of attention.

Then the opportunity I wanted came, for just a moment, revealing the incredible length of her lashes that framed the mystical beauty.

The mystical beauty that was bewitching.

The mystical beauty she took away with her to the next phase of her life.

The mystical beauty that left without sparing another moment.

Those eyes, I wanted to see again.

Just one more time.