Would You Press ‘DELETE?’

I’m just going to let you all know some of my personal fantasies or rather daydreams. But I’d like to warn you that I think about the weirdest things you could possibly imagine. Though I’m still pretty certain you all will be forced to relate to it.

Each one of us has gone through troubled times, the kind of times when you’re standing on the edge of a cliff and summoning the courage to jump or sometimes when you’ve felt an intense angst of pain or betrayal or worse, hopelessness. Times when you lost someone you loved to death or maybe that someone left you all alone. Prolonged days when you’ve felt cast out, swaying wildly in the thunderous gushing, freezing ocean waters. If you’re one of us, then you have all my love and empathy and I promise you things will get better.

I was really sad a couple of days before, so after I completed my cycle of crying and lying down quietly, a thought occurred to me. What if I was given a machine that deleted memory? Not a big, gigantic pomp but just a small one- like the one from Men In Black. But the only difference would be that you could delete parts of the memories that you’d like to be gone. All the painful occurrences that you wished had never happened.

I thought about it for a while and it seemed tempting. Something troubling you? *Presses Delete Button* -GONE! You can continue your life like it never happened. A smile crept my face when I wondered of all the memories I could erase, all the sadness I could be spared from.

But it vanished just as easily. This another thought occurred to me. Although, I wondered, the idea of clearing away your pain might feel very delightful at the moment, but I believe memories, both sad and good, are essential for life. They are just as important as your limbs and senses.

Without bad memories you won’t ever learn a lesson. You’ll be devoid of experience. So you need both good and bad to balance the equation of life. You wouldn’t ever know what love is until you’ve been betrayed by someone. You won’t know who a great friend is until you’ve met the wrong ones. So basically you don’t know what a ripe peach tastes like until you’ve tried a few bad ones.

It’s completely natural to say, ‘I want to forget this person/memory/thing.’ You want to run away from it, you want to hide, you want it to stop haunting you, but what I say is, derive a lesson from it and move on. Let every bad memory be a reason to have good ones.

So as I crawled up from the pit of gloom I taught myself that every memory is important. It doesn’t matter if it’s happy or sad. If you remove the sad and dark parts from a movie, you’ll end up with a distorted, confusing and a spoiled film devoid of a real story. Keep every scene intact and sooner or later you’ll realize why every bit of it was required.

So sit back, have a cup of coffee, read a good book and watch your life play before your eyes. Embrace it, learn from the bad things, appreciate the good things and most important of all- keep going!

To all my American followers,
Happy Thanksgiving! 🙂

Oh and yes- Here’s a shout-out to the sweetest and currently a very good friend of mine Stephen, check out his blog, he’s got everything covered under one roof! 🙂
P.s- He’s a mutant, so be a little careful. XD

My Love for Army Men but why I’d never Marry one.

-The 14 year old me stands beside an ice-cream truck, relishing each and every stroke of the smooth tantalizing chocolate fudge; giving me a temporary relief from the heat. I’m discussing about the upcoming Biology exam when a large convoy of huge trucks pass us by. I get distracted by the sound and see them heading towards the highway. I stare at them until they vanish in the bent.

I forget about it- I’m 14, seriously what did you expect?

-I’m 15 and I stand next to my mother in the parent-teacher meet. I’m focusing on the critical mistakes in my term paper when a majestic man, wearing his army uniform in full glory, all festooned with various shining medals and badges enters my class, followed by my classmate. I mentally give him a standing ovation.

-I’m 16 and I’m sitting in a cafe and I hear giggles somewhere afar. I glance up and see these two little adorable girls being led by their father who was wearing his army uniform, the two girls fight over who’s gonna order and who’s going to ‘spoon-feed’ their daddy ice-cream as I sit and watch that beautiful family.

Lastly,

-The 18 year old me drives to college and gives pass to an Army truck; laden with handsome army men, their gaze eerily affixed on the road, all mature and dark.

Somewhere inside my heart aches for their families and I take a mental note I’d never marry an Army man. I confess that this decision is for myself. I get crippled in fear thinking that while I’m here ranting on WordPress there is a man on the border putting his life at stake.

I admit, I’m a coward. I’m timid, selfish and hate myself for running away from the pain. I’d rather stay away from an army man than enjoy his company because I’m incapable of surviving the lack of surety for their survival.

Plainly stating, why I’d never marry or get extremely close to a military man is that even though there are thousands of females who are bravely living with the fear of losing their loved ones, I’m not one of them, I won’t be able to bear the distance, the feel that we’re miles apart.

Having long distance is and having long distance with the life of the other partner at stake is a completely different scenario. I don’t know how other women handle it, the constant fear that their partner might not return someday. I shiver at the thought. I’ve always admired these men in shining armor and their reunions with their families fills my heart with so much pain and love.

I could never do that. I don’t have that strength. If in any case I happen to get acquainted with a military man I’d either join the army myself and accompany him to the border or make him quit his job, as simple as that-again I admit, that’s downright selfish. And so I pray I never fall in love or get emotionally close to any military man because they’re the purest form of selflessness and love and again I say, I’m a chicken, I have a weakness for love and I cannot do anything about it other than running away and hoping not to ever face it in my life.

So this for all those brave men out there, armies of every country, soldiers of any race, the very form of courage, valor and humanity, those who’re standing tall and serving without expectations, the very portrait of sheer patriotism- we respect and love you equally.

A wholehearted Thank You to you glorified beings for existing and taking the vow to protect us and your motherland.

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Small People; Big Hearts

This post is not against any particular category or race of people, just a mere conclusion from a recent experience. Rather, experiences. I had two of them, both of them contrary to each other.

I

I had taken a day off from college and was lying clumsily on my couch watching T.V and munching potato chips. Mom had gone to work and there was no one home except for my housemaid who was doing the dishes in the gallery. I don’t know her exact age, but she’s very old, she must be in her 70’s, has a happily married daughter and a proper home. She has been working for us for more than 10 years and has become an integral part of our family. It’s hard for me to picture her any other way. It’s like she has been that way forever. Spectacles drooping on her wrinkly nose, a small, humped and fragile figure neatly wrapped in a saree

The best thing about her; her indestructible ambition. You see, she’s poor, old and weak and she could beg on the streets if she wants to and often we had asked her to maybe quit as she’s old now and take rest but she always, ALWAYS refuses. She says she likes her work and it keeps her busy and gives her income.

But that’s not the only thing great about that lady. Keep reading.

When she finished her work she made her way to the door and asked me to close it after her. I followed and as she was leaving, she picked up a bag she had kept aside, stopped midway and rummaged it’s insides. I watched the scenario thinking she might have forgotten something, when she took out two ripe guavas and offering them to me asked, “Would you like a guava?” and gave me a toothless smile.

I was speechless. No that I hadn’t seen a guava before or I hadn’t been offered a gift before, but this made me struggle for words. At first I thought I should refuse as she already was struggling with poverty and it would be mean to take whatever little she has. But then I thought I’d hurt her even more as she might think that I rejected thinking she was below me or something.

“Sure!” I said as I let out my hands. She gave two of the most ripe and best ones in the 4 she had in the bag, looked at my face with pride and went away.

And I’m not exaggerating or saying it out of empathy but those two were the most amazing guavas I ever had. Sweet, tangy and and full of flavor.

II

I was making my back from a stationary store. The weather was soothing and I was on foot. As I approached near my place I saw a lady on her balcony negotiating with someone on the ground.

“30! That’s the final offer!”
“Please make it 50 and I’ll mow the entire lawn!”
“30-I said it’s final”
“Okay make it 40?”

“You can go away, I’ll find someone else to do it.”
“”Sahab please, I need the money”
“I said-You can leave!”

I slowed my pace a little to see what was going on. On the balcony of the most sumptuous and one of the biggest houses in my locality stood a woman in her early 40’s. Stern and obstinate with a few loose strands of hair from the neatly tied bun; chiding the person below.

Below on her ramp, I saw an old man in ragged clothes and a pleading face. His hands were black from filth and he looked up with expectations and maybe some income. He looked tired and had drooping shoulders covered in a worn out white cloth.

After the lady asked him to leave, she went inside with a scowl. The man lowered his gaze in disappointment, got on his rusted bicycle and rode away.


I don’t even know how to put it. These two incidents happened on the same day. It’s like God was trying to teach me something. An invaluable lesson;something we don’t realize in everyday lives. I’m guessing you must have got an idea of what I’m about to say.

I know that lady from the magnificent house and I also know she’s perhaps one of the richest people in our locality. Now I don’t know what goes on inside her house or how the situations are, but I didn’t see any harm in giving that man a 50 Rupee note considering the line of cars she had parked in her driveway. And it’s not like the man was begging, he was rendering a service in return.

I’m pretty sure giving away a mere 50 rupee note wouldn’t have changed anything in her life; but it sure as hell would have made the poor man’s day. The thing that bugged me was, if you ask all these people, all these artificial, successful snobs what all they have achieved in life, I assure you they will all quote their achievements one by one with inevitable pride and a high nose. But when it comes to helping the needy and the poor, no one has a dime.

Ask yourself, when was the last time you were returning from the Supermarket with a bag of oranges and gave two of them to a beggar or someone needy? Have you? If yes, then you’re a wonderful person and have a very big and a kind heart. If not, then you need to reevaluate your actions.

My maid didn’t think twice even though I have everything and could buy guavas any day. Now I don’t find any reason for having second thoughts.

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Picture Courtesy: Cartoonmovement.com

Beneath Your Beautiful

Honestly, it all began like this.

Esh- Can you please elaborate on your status?
Me: *Gives a 2786 page long explanation*
Esh: OH MY GOD. This is so true!
Me: Yep, one of my favorite quotes.
Esh: This is one story common to everyone. Actually, this should be your next article maybe. 🙂
Me: That’s a great idea! Thanks.  :*
Esh: And you’ve already written the introduction above. :’)
Me: Haha, indeed! 😉

So this was a conversation I had with the purest form of awesomeness and my very good bud called Esh (the first three letters to her name) 😛 around a month back. And as much as I’m terribly sorry I’d like to confess that I forgot writing about this very interesting topic. She happened to remind me again last night (told you she’s awesome).

My WhatsApp status went something like this:

“Having perfected our disguise; we spend our life searching for someone we don’t fool.”

And it ignited the curiosity of several intrigued souls to the extent of texting and asking me about it.

I fell in love with this quote the day I read. I can say this with all my heart that each one of us has gone through this or is still going through this scenario. Frankly, when I come across these situations; finding millions of people to have gone through or are still bravely going through any emotional setback, it sends goosebumps down my spine. How can everyone feel the same thing? Even without knowing each other.

I read these quotes on the internet ‘Just be yourself’, ‘Love you for who you are’, ‘Never change for what people think is right’. And it leaves me in utter bewilderment that it is one thing to be frequently reminded that one is beautiful as a sign of affection but it is entirely another thing to loathe yourself so much that you cling on hopelessly to these quotes; screenshot them and stare at them the whole day. You don’t need the frigging internet to tell you that you’re beautiful.

The above quote is ‘Society’ conjured up in one line. The world has so adequately forced us to ‘act’ according to its rigid norms of how we should be. Speaking in a prosaic way, we tend to mould ourselves according to the society that has these firm shackles to confine us into its various norms; those of HOW a girl should dress up, WHAT would make her desirable, WHAT are the basic standards for a boy to be called a Man.

So in order to ‘blend in’ we make masks. Masquerades to make people like us. Disguises to be like them and we cannot escape it, the world is so brutal it won’t spare any of us. We spend years to learn how we have to behave- happier, devoid of flaws and spend nights understanding how these rules work out. Society keeps on juggling us between its cold, frigid paws while we construct those masks; forging them out of insecurities and fear of not being ‘accepted’.

PicMonkey Collage

Trying to be like everyone else. Trying to ‘fit-in’. We’re so afraid to be our self; afraid that the people won’t like us. We’re insecure so much that we give up and decide to join the herd.

So having found no possible escape we cling on to our faker self and spend our life desperately hoping to find someone who looks through that mask, someone who doesn’t get fooled and sees the person we really are behind it. Our flawed imperfect selves that we find so hard to accept and come in terms with. And when we find that one person, we feel revealed. We feel we’ve been understood and we’re not afraid to be ourselves in front of him. We feel raw and at peace.

It maybe anyone-Best Friend, Boy/Girl-Friend. Soul-mate. Analogically speaking, this quote is a vivid way to portray the idea of finding ‘The One’ in a society as brutal as this.

So after having build a ‘perfect disguise’ we hover around trying to find someone who looks into our soul directly. Who has the power to reignite the suppressed flame that is our personality and as you all might have read it on the ‘Internet’ :

“Find someone who accepts you for who you are”

but the good thing about this fallacy is, when that person finally enters your life; nothing ever feels more beautiful, more perfect and more cherubic. So when you find that person who can tear the ‘mask’ away and see through YOU and the pure beauty of your existence. Someone who ‘sees beneath your beautiful’ ; all that cover you took years to master, when he finally shatters it, hold on to him.

 

Esh, I know you’re reading this. 😀 High5!! 😀

Her

Part-I

The day he broke the news, I knew I wouldn’t be seeing him very soon. Not the next year, not in a few years, maybe not ever. The December sky had already given me a foreboding that the time had come. Things were quieter than usual and the days were colder ..than usual.

Sombre grey always hung low in the horizon and the mornings were never fresh or tepid. Just frostbiting cold and the fields dotted with sluggish cattle, clumsily grazing with drooping eyelids. Christmas was not very far and I saw little kids skedaddle their way from school; blissful for the inception of the Christmas holidays. Occasionally when I peaked from my window I saw a few seagulls visiting our little town, and each time they flew my heart leapt at the thought of the lands they’ve visited and the people they’ve met.

Nights were freezing cold and our old fireplace did a poor job in warming up the house. It had snowed heavily that year and our streets were flooded with enormous cascades of pearl white snow. People were busy shoveling and clearing their jammed doors and pathways, steams of warm breath emerging from every shove.

All this while nature always informed me whenever something wrong was going to happen, in secret and subtle ways only I could understand. In codes and language only I could decipher, like an old scholar rummaging through an ancient manuscript. Of course the hints were nature’s own self-creation from all the resources it could possibly conjure.

The wind would blow stealthily that day, like a gory murderer slowly crawling towards his victim’s bed. The leaves would rustle frantically, in tuned chords and rhythms. The woods would appear deeper, like there’s some dark secret hidden somewhere in their heart. And the sky would have a gloomy grey spread across its bare chest, like a painting made by a solitary lover. Heavy clouds laden with rain would always hover above, like a distant warning, yet they’d never downpour.

As I tried to figure out what was wrong, I walked towards the most snug, warm and perhaps the only cafe selling the best cocoa in town. My steps were slow, almost hesitant, the image of the hot cocoa mug did not succeed in tantalizing me, something else was troubling me and I guess I already knew what it was.


Part-II

Pushing the door open my entrance was followed by a slight tingle from the bell above, few heads turned my side and then turned away. After a brief scanning of the arena, I saw him. He flashed a half grin and waved at me, I got instantly pulled towards it, like I always had been. Pulling out a chair, I made myself comfortable. The dense aroma of coffee lingered in the air.

“How have you been?” He said, taking a sip of his coffee. I took a moment and breathed him in, blue eyes, slightly copper skin, light brown softly tussled hair. Although he wasn’t swooning handsome, he was the one man I’d felt ridiculously drawn towards in my entire life, right since 2nd grade.

“Lyla?” he called out. I snapped out of my reverie, “Oh, I’ve been great, better actually,” I lied. “I’ve been thinking about the holiday project and have managed to come up with a splendid idea,” I grinned. 

He nodded in approval and said, “It’s good to see you Lyla.” His eyes grew deeper, like an intense suppressed emotion struggling to reach out. It was interrupted by Bernard who placed my cocoa on the table, sweet little freckled boy always knew what I ordered.

School was coming to an end and pretty soon we’d all be on our separate ways. While this blue eyed boy in front of me had been with me since 11 long years, I could never summon the courage to tell him how I felt, out of fear that it might not be reciprocated back which, in my opinion, stood a very fair chance.

“Lyla, I’ve been thinking a lot and last night I made a decision and that’s why I wanted to see you,” he continued, “I think I’ll be leaving for the city very soon. My parents had already been wanting this for me, my cousins are settled there and have been prospering so I’d have no trouble adjusting.”

He sounded disturbed and had been this way for a while. He was always a mystery, like a part of him was always hidden away, stored and somewhere far for the right person to discover.

“Bu..but why?” I mumbled.

He sighed, “To tell you the truth, I’ve been very very alone Lyla. I don’t have any friends and you know I’ve been in seclusion my entire life. Sometimes I feel I’m destined for great things but this town is eating me away. We’re all stuck here and I feel even though Christmas is all about love and cheer, yet I won’t find any, as long as I stay here. 
Look around Lyla, there’s no cheer. Just a bunch of sick people dragging another Christmas in poverty and beers. And there sure as hell no love here. At least I couldn’t find it, but I also know that it won’t happen unless I get out and grab her, whoever and wherever she is. 

Sometimes you’ve to break all the boundaries and let the winds sweep you away, so they’d land you on the right ground.”

I took a deep breath and fought away the tears. “That’s wonderful Pete. I’m glad you realized your dream and I’m incredibly happy for you.” 
“Thanks,” he said, “You know I’ll keep writing to you, don’t you?”
“Yeah.” 


Part-III

As his train slowly melted away in the distant fog, I waved him a final goodbye. The spark in his eyes had no regrets but just a measly dab of guilt that I could see. Nature had been right after all, I brooded as the train crawled towards the distant woods, Pete’s coach far in front, already marching through the jungle.

What I was to him, if neither a friend nor a love, I guess I’ll never know. The letters came every week, and after an year became less frequent. Telephones were a luxury we couldn’t afford.

I have no idea where Pete is today.

girl-in-the-snow

 

Photo Courtesy: www.memoirmode.com

Obsessive vs Possessive vs Jealous

I’ve been observing myself for a long time. That’s right, apart from keenly noting and reading the activities and people around me, I happen to observe myself too (talk about free time). How I react to stimuli, peer pressure, a ‘not-so-funny-yet-I-manage-a-smile-so-I-don’t-look-rude’ joke, curiosity, exasperation and every other minuscule form of emotions that exist within me. And sometimes, when I react out of the ordinary I question myself, ‘Why’d I do that?’ Although I don’t sit and brood over it but it happens to retain in my head for a considerable amount of time.

One such thing I found within me is ‘Possessiveness’.

possessive
/pəˈzɛsɪv/
adjective
1. of or relating to possession or ownership
2. having or showing an excessive desire to possess, control, or dominate

When I say I’m ‘possessive’ I don’t mean that I go ninja in the middle of the night wearing a black suit and stalk my beloved ones in their bedrooms to check if they’re breathing. Possessive behavior has various applications in real life. It can be linked with men, material and sometimes intangible things as well. It is a feeling of ‘possession’ we get after having ‘acquired’ that thing/person we wanted so bad.

It becomes rather tricky, that when we talk of material things-car, house, furniture we have no hesitation in claiming them to be ours and it is socially acceptable. But when we talk of relations it becomes very dangerous. It’s natural, everyone will think of you as a creep and take 5 steps away from you if you’re constantly nagging them. Possessiveness illustrates your psyche of having complete dominance over that other person. You try to take control, maybe your intentions are good, but they end up distorting everything, and people misapprehend your purpose.

This is funny. 😛

‘Over-possessiveness’ in a relation can be gravely dangerous. It literally destroys bonds and sometimes leads to violence. People commit severe crimes out of pure vengeance and the ‘fear’ that the person they think they hold full responsibility and control of is slipping from their grasp. This leads to breaches between people. This kind of a behavior also doesn’t speak very well of the person himself. It signifies their weakness for the significant other and that weakness sometimes takes dangerous forms.

It often brands you as a ‘creep or ‘freak’ or ‘stalker’ yada yada yada. Plus, your intuition starts sending warning signals for you to back off and find a safe and free ground.

But what I feel is that a little possessiveness is also essential to build a healthy relation. It gives you the notion that you’re actually cared for, by someone. No girl would like it if her spouse doesn’t bother or is completely okay with her going to the club late at night, she’d end up harboring the notion that he doesn’t care and vice-versa.


As for me, I sometimes don’t like when I see my best friend having a great time with someone else (she’s supposed to have a great time with me!) :\ But then I think I don’t own her, she can spend time with anyone she wants to. Same goes for books as well, although I get pretty sparky when people read my choice of books and I get to discuss it with them but in all honesty somewhere inside it buggs me to know that I had to share that story with someone else.


People often confuse being possessive with jealousy, which is a completely different emotion. You are jealous when you wish to take the place of the other person while you are possessive if you wish to take control over the life and desires of other person. Jealousy in boys and girls is different and often confronted in different ways as well, which I think is unfair to boys and quite funny as well. 😛

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The term ‘obsession’ can also be interpreted here. You’re OBSESSED when you develop an intense fondness for that person/movie/song/book/game etc. You don’t have a feeling of owning it or taking its place. In simple terms, you can’t get enough of it. It has nothing to do with being possessive or jealous of it. You don’t demand it’s total possession or love. (Sometimes you do ..aah it’s tricky.)

The point is, even though a little acquisitiveness is necessary to build the foundation of a strong bond, the same however if implied in large quantities may harm your relation and weaken its roots. There should be a proper balance, a well measured proportion between freedom and possession. Heard the common saying ‘Excess of everything is bad’, the same applies here as well. It’s an important emotion to bind people, but it can break them too.

Have fun, relax and take the deal lightly and blissfully instead of transforming it into a forbidden love story with a single distraught lover. 😛

And the same goes for people like me-It’s okay, it’s just a frigging book or a song-it was viewed and listened to by millions of people-deal with it. 😛

Brusque Note: Did anyone watch Interstellar? If not, then go and watch it. It’s frigging brilliant! I think I might be getting OBSESSED with it! 😛

Understanding an Introvert; Part-I

introvert noun ɪntrəvəːt/  1. a shy, reticent person.
You see, life as an introvert is not as easy and ‘simple’ as you think. People have various fascinating and sometimes hurtful perceptions about an introvert. Like in some way it is a ‘bad’ thing to be quiet and shy. So this post is for all my fellow introverts out there- you guys rule.
introvert
My 20 years as an introvert brought up several types of opinions about me. Some were good, some bad, some reckless, either way people always look at you differently. My experiences have been rather dicey when it comes to people forming an opinion about me. Some people love me on first meet, some hate me on the first sight, some don’t give a crap
And despite all the spiteful judgement people form for introverts, I’ve always been fascinated by them-their thought process when they see a quiet girl entering a subway and reading a book or listening to music, ignoring everyone around.
I’m not kidding, I’ve really experienced all this in high-school and am still experiencing it in college. People often call you ‘fake’ which is a very common term high-schoolers use to brand someone as ‘not very High-Schooly’ or if someone is too kind. Introverts are usually happy being alone, they’re often bored in groups but they never get bored of being with themselves.
‘ALONE’ doesn’t feel very inhospitable to them.They might sit in a group of friends and have fun, but somewhere in their mind they’ll fantasize about the moment they’ll be alone with their book or coffee or anything they are particularly attached with, which is most of the time an object or something that exists only in their mind. We don’t mind staying indoors while others are out partying. You might say-“Get a life!” Guess what? ‘We ARE getting a life.’

It’s creepy how precise this picture is. 😛

What people do is that they mistake our silence with oblivion. They don’t understand the fact that just because we’re quiet doesn’t mean we’re not listening. We observe everything around us. YES, we KNOW when people whisper stuff about us along with scanning us top to bottom with their eye balls.

What you normal people should know is that just because we have trouble initiating conversation with people doesn’t mean we’re rude goblins with a rotten apple for a heart and we sure as hell don’t think of ourselves as ‘above’ everyone else. Most of the time, it’s the exact opposite. And from my own personal view, introverts are usually very kind people, we won’t fire a bullet in the center of your forehead when you talk to us. If you talk to us, we’ll reply-like normal people do-No Big Deal.

Our amount of talk usually depends on our level of comfort with the other person. We can’t tolerate to be around people we can’t stand, again that’s pretty normal.


 A girl in my college sat next to me once and she kept rambling on and on and on and wouldn’t stop and when she observed (finally) that I hadn’t said a word between her chatter for about 20 minutes she said, “Don’t you like to talk?”  Honestly, she kinda caught me off guard, it was very brusque- I didn’t know what to respond. So I shrugged and stuttered some muffled words; eventually she left.

 

One thing about us introverts-we have a lot of trouble trusting people, another valid reason we prefer being to ourselves. We have trouble expressing our feelings, that is why we project it in some way. As for me, it is through writing. I mostly write about my thoughts, my emotions, my frustration or maybe some prosaic observation.

We like to sit and observe. Observe how beautiful the clouds look today, how soothing the wind is, softly caressing our skin. We mute the entire world and just sit and see-and we LIKE that.So I hope when you normal people read this you muster up the courage to talk to that guy who usually sits alone in the cafeteria or the girl who’s seen in the library in the recess. We’re shy, we’re dreamers, we’re cogitative, observers, lovable, thoughtful and of course, quiet.
Try us, we’re not that bad-actually don’t, leave us alone.

60’s- They’re Back

Okay, you were scrolling and now you stopped. Good. OR maybe you searched a random tag and bumped here OR it was your destiny that you stumbled across this post, either way-YOU’RE ONE LUCKY BASTARD (Pardon Me) as I’m about to change your life.

Note: Read further ONLY if you love music and I mean ACTUAL music not that One Direction and Justin Bieber crap people are selling in the name of music these days. But pure soul music, like from the 60’s when voices were not ‘Auto-Tuned’ and electronic gadgets were not used to brutally ruin a song. When the lyrics were more than just ‘Swag’ and ‘Twerk’ -actual lyrics, poetic lyrics that your mind and heart starts to waltz upon. The kind of music that just clicks somewhere inside, like a silent consent by the heart saying ‘Yeah-that’s it-that’s the real deal.’

Okay, so there’s this artist I stumbled upon the channel of BY MISTAKE and as of till now I can purely and wholeheartedly say it was my best, most cherished blunder. What I usually do when I’m free (which is quite often) is randomly navigating YouTube to find new artists that are not making ‘Auto-Tuned’ music and can actually sing.

And I found him-Jake Bugg-the guy whose very first word uttered in his song captured me in an enigma-that melody-that euphony in his voice. That rustic charm-that purity-that light brush of folk and country. I couldn’t believe, I literally couldn’t come in terms with the fact that when I thought there wasn’t any hope left for music, this guy perked up and saved my life.

So, forgive me *RANDOM-OBSESSIVE-MODE-ON* but after purchasing both of his albums online I started to search every detail about this guy (okay, fine I was stalking-I’M A STALKER-I said it.)

Jake Bugg is a 20 year folk and country singer from Clifton, Nottingham, United Kingdom. From what I found *opens Stalker File-: 254* he’s a pretty recluse guy that keeps to himself and loves making music NOT because of the fame and the glamour but because music keeps him sane (I’ve watched more than a 1000 interviews of him) and most of the time he mentions this. In one of the interviews he said “People make music not just for themselves but for the fame and the glamour that comes with it but that’s not the case here” (Do you see the reason why no one knows him DESPITE being tremendously talented?)

Another Fact: HE HATES GIVING INTERVIEWS. Haha!

In one of the above the interviewer asked “Do you get exhausted with writing songs constantly and making music?” 

Jake said “It’s not the music or writing songs that’s the exhausting part-It’s the constant talking that is.” 

Anyway, I don’t want to keep rambling about him, if I continue this cherubic rhapsody I’ll probably end up writing his memoir. 😛


To all those interested to know, I come from a musical family (No, no one is a rockstar) but everyone in my family sings well-it’s kind of in our blood. We’re all hopelessly attached to music, my father was a musician of his time, a professional singer who had to quit his passion for a stable career and to look after a family-naturally I was the lucky one to imbibe his gift-his voice. I ended up being incontestably addicted to chords and lyrics.

Always humming a song and tapping my table or door or any hard object I found as drums. I listened to music very differently from others. I’m not trying to be snobby here but it’s the truth. The chords hit me differently, like they’re trying to tell me something, a secret message (cheesy, I know). No one really understands it, I don’t JUST listen to music for recreation, I listen to it because I need it. Like a bee needs it’s regular dose of pollen I too need a regular dose of music to keep me going.


Okay, back to Jake.

Fact: If you happen to search *cough* stalk him, then you’ll get to know he’s called ‘Young Bob Dylan‘ of these times. BEING COMPARED TO BOB DYLAN-CAN YOU IMAGINE and that too by someone like Stephen King? (He specially tweeted about him.) That is how good he is.

Here are two of his songs that’ll prove all of the above points:

 

Heard? It’s like the 60’s are back right?!

Honestly (and I wouldn’t hesitate) I didn’t want people to know about him. The more famous he gets the more I’ll have to share him with others. The more I’ll feel he’s not mine and eventually all girls will start fangirling him and I’ll be atrociously jealous (as if there wasn’t a massive female following already). But due to the very loyal fan and lover that I am, I’m hereby sharing him with you all. For him to grow and prosper.

So when you too fall in love with his voice and can’t get enough of this beautiful soul, please keep me in your memory and remember that I introduced him to you all.

Jake, this is for you.