Talk is Cheap

Every evening at six, I sit amidst a sea of people in a cafe farther down North. The air around me crackles with words I don’t follow. I can’t distinguish voices, so it sounds like a perpetual buzzing of the air. Mouths move, words are uttered but their meaning gets lost in a haze midway.

I take tiny, measured sips of my coffee, its warmth pulsating in my veins; it is my excuse for silence. The cubicle in which I sit is jammed with practiced smiles- not too much; not too little -and conspicuous gulps. The girl with a ruffled bow has her camera out already.

Someone utters something witty and our close knit huddle erupts in laughter. I don’t. My mind is befogged and I’m trying to focus on the label stuck to the bottle of hot sauce.
‘Manufactured in Hogsmeade.’ Peculiar.

I hook a finger in the collar of my turtleneck and pull, craning my neck slightly.
“Geez,” I glance at the sweater less arms around me, “doesn’t anybody else feel the brunt of December?”

Someone nudges me on the side. I turn and behold a perfect set of eyebrows creased in confusion. Inquiringly, she jerks her head up a little (sensing that my mind was distracted) and attempts to pull me back into the hubbub of the group.

I smile reassuringly and pretend to listen but the buzzing continues. She grins and rejoins the conversation, triumphing at the outcome.
What are they talking about?

I get stuck on a boy opposite me. I wonder if anyone noticed the blotches of ink on his left hand. His eyes are puffy and shoulders are slouching. He looks exhausted and appears skinnier than the last I saw him. But he beams at everyone and clutches his mug tightly, holding on to the warmth he’s paying for.

I look away and peer through the frosted window I chose to sit next to. The street outside is a greyish blur.
“From the other side of this translucent glass,” I muse, “we must be a blur too. Five silhouettes.”

Glancing above I follow a thin wire of dazzling yellow lights. They hang on rusted nails, hammered several Christmases ago.

I’m about to pursue the trail of lights when something happens. A voice hits me and the world zooms into sharp focus. I’m snapped back to clarity and the crisp sound of slurps and munches reaches me. The conversation is suddenly discernible.

“Did anybody notice the sky this evening? It was a distinct, rain-washed midnight blue and I could already see hazy outlines of stars appearing on the horizon when I walked here.” The scruffy boy opposite me sighs and looks around the table, hoping someone would mirror his spirit.

I smile at him feverishly.

See now the table has my attention.

All About Perspectives

A couple of weeks back, while scouring the internet for cute dog videos (because dogs are love-deal with it) I happened to land on a page that described Nietzsche’s theory of perspectivism.
Don’t even get me started on how that escalated.

Now I have read bits and pieces of his philosophies, but never felt like ‘delving deep’ into the ideas he propagated. Philosophers and too much philosophy can mess with your mind.

So after I devoured the Wikipedia page enough to satiate my mind, I felt a certain sense of ..pride? Let me elucidate the point I’m trying to make by using (Hermione’s) my time turner and taking you back to the year 2014.

I’m a firm believer in perspectives. I feel that people never truly tell you information in its true form, but rather their version of it.

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Is it a room, a painting, the sky or a building?

Every person has this window of comprehension. The bigger the window, the wider the perspective. Knowledge that we receive is always torn, bent, twisted, interpreted and distorted by the mind that delivers it. It’s never really ..pure.

This is what I have been believing since the last three years. And now that I found there’s an actual theory justifying and claiming the same thing is unreal! I mean the fact that a small, private and less discussed principle I’ve withheld and believed in for so long resonates with an actual philosophy from, what history calls, one of the greatest philosophers of all time – Nietzsche, is surreal! I think I should be allowed to have a fleeting, teeny-tiny moment of pride?

But if you apply this theory to every piece of information you’ve ever received, it can seem a little scary.

Whatever news you watch on the television, is a version and interpretation of the journalists and the writers, apart from factual information of course.

Like I read somewhere once,‘How do you know your hero is righteous, if you haven’t heard the story from the villain’s perspective.’

Perspectives and point of views can revamp both the connotation and the core idea behind an event.

The book critic might consider Lord of the Rings to be the greatest work of fantasy but maybe it isn’t? (Psstt ..it is.)

So our opinions are limited to our window (or scope) of perceiving it.

There is no truth, there are only perspectives.

One person’s idea of the ‘right’ kind of behavior might not conform with yours?

This entire blog article right here is also a perspective. Care to refute?


Note- Once upon a time there was this weird, ethereal boy in my class. His hobbies included doodling on tables, minimal human interaction and secretly seeking the meaning of the universe.  We spent two years in Middle school which consisted of him doodling on the table and I admiring it. That was the only human form of interaction he was programmed for.

Then we lost touch and he left the city.(Or maybe he went to another galaxy to fulfill some strange odyssey?) But years later in 2017 and due to some very peculiar turn of events, we met again! And now that he’s capable of having a human like conversation and even telling me about his plans to open a music store, I can safely vouch for the credibility of his blog, that he’s launched very recently.

People of WordPress, please spare some time and visit my very talented friend Yash’s blog. He has phenomenal writing skills and his comic books (that he creates when he’s on Earth for the time being) are a cherry on the cake. He talks of abstract stuff superimposed with a witty sense of humor, creative metaphors and peculiar diagrammatic representations of kebab rolls.

His blog is:

Bipolar Bear

Do visit and leave a review. Both the writer and the blog mean a lot to me.

I’d be grateful.

Lured by Fantasy

Ever since I was a little girl, the one adjective people usually branded me with was –excited. I was always excited. Always chirpy, happy, laughing, flamboyant, cackling- and I always enjoyed it. I’ve always admired and sort of coveted feistiness.

To this day I prefer thrill and excitement over tranquility. Don’t get me wrong, I too desire long walks on beaches and empty coffee shops.

But do I love books?- YES!
But would I sacrifice a day of reading to go to a carnival with daunting rides? -absolutely!

Do I like to sit quietly at parties and observe people- yes!
But do I also secretly crave to dance wildly with the others?- absolutely!

Like my favorite Jane Austen says
‘Elizabeth had a lively, playful disposition that delighted in anything ridiculous.’

This very disposition of mine directly lured me to fantasy. Which is what I’m here to talk about. Since most of my friends think I’m only one hallucination away from being taken to a psychiatrist, I’m obliged to ramble (like I always do) about it on my blog.

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I love fantasy. It is perhaps my favorite genre in the world of books and movies. I have devoured the Lord of the Rings series and it circulates in my bloodstream. Sometimes I randomly quote Darth Vader to my mom. At times I try to switch the lights on in my room by saying, Lumos.

I’m trying very hard to learn the Elvish language coined by Tolkien. I literally asked all my close friends to change my contact name to ‘Lord Vader.’ (All of them complied- with a pitiful sigh though.) Half of the pictures in my phone (3000) either consist of mountains and snowy countries, salacious humor or fictional pictures.

Although I seldom try to justify my obsession, my answer to the blatant question is-

The reason I love fantasy is because I crave adventure, in every possible form. I love a rapidly beating heart. I love when I’m out of breath (not too much though.) I love stories about dragons, and goblins, wizards, elves, witches, galaxies, battles, gods, demigods. I love everything- unearthly. It fascinates and beguiles me. And what deeply grieves me is the want to be a part of these stories knowing that it’s impossible.

I would jolly well help Harry reclaim Hogwarts or the Dwarves reclaim the Lonely Mountain than solve algebraic equations. I would prefer a battle with Basilisk or even help Sherlock solve some cases (though I won’t be of much help).

And because my life or rather anybody’s life on this stupid planet Earth can never be this thrilling, I resolve to fantasy. It gives me my share of adventure. And also some very faithful fictional friends; powerful if I may add.

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So what is your idea of adventure? Let me know?

 

Love always,

Your blogger.

One was a Book Thief. The Other Stole the Sky.

If you read the title and you know where it is from then you’re awesome and you have my love.

If you’re going to read one blog post today, I request you all let this tiny post be the one. There’s a reason for this, you’ll discover later in the post and believe you me it’s worth it. This post is BOTH for the readers/non-readers.

For the rest unfortunate people, before I begin this post, one thing you should know.

You’re all going to die.

Brutal, I know but hey these are not my words. These are “death’s” words as said in this incredible piece of fiction that sweeps me away no matter how many times I read it called The Book Thief by Markus Zusak. 

Why I love this book?

It’s not just a piece of young-adult fiction comprising of a boy and girl-one terminally ill and the other weeping over the tragedy of his expected demise like it is the case with the current series of books that are sweeping the bookshelves these days. Yes, I mean it. I won’t name the books but if you’re aware you might be knowing it yourself.

I understand the inexorable need for strong emotions and stories that leave you in a puddle of tears, but it’s one thing writing about deep, profound emotions and it’s another thing playing with them to win people’s hearts. I feel like these authors are using people’s soft spots for gaining best-sellers.  Anyway, I’m not here to talk about that.

But this book, these rectangular pieces of paper studded with magical words narrating an extraordinary story is an astounding piece of literature. I’m not here to give a book review, I’m just here to tell you all the few things I learnt from this book and why you must read this post further.

Our protagonist Liesel Meminger is a nine year old girl who is forced to live with her foster parents as she was a communist and her mother was taken away by the Germans. Set in Germany in 1939 before and during the escalation of the World War II the story vividly portrays Liesel’s journey in her new foster home in Molching with her foster parents.

Her young, yet short-lived so called German boyfriend ‘Rudy Steiner’ and her deep, and beautiful friendship with the Jew that her parents hide in their basement, one character that apart from others, I fell deeply in love with,  Max Vandenburg. Max teaches Liesel the real meaning of friendship, how small sacrifices can sometimes save lives.

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It’s not a fairy-tale, it is a deeply moving story of bravery and valor when situations demand it. Of friendship which is the greatest gift of all, about first crushes and how we never get over them-but most important of all, how we must treasure all that we have-before the inevitable death hits us all.

The interesting thing about this book is, the entire story is narrated by death itself. Death claims that it never met someone as interesting and as intriguing as Liesel when he first saw her while fetching her brother’s soul (the brother dies on the way to Molching) and decides to narrate Liesel’s story from the book she writes in the end about her life at Molching.

Death has very interesting perceptions about humans:-

“I’m always finding humans at their best and worst. I see their ugliness and their beauty and I wonder how the same thing can be both”

“While 10,000 souls hid their head in fear and trembled, one Jew thanked the Gods for the stars that blessed his eyes.”

Trust me these two quotes said by death are just an iota of the brilliance of this novel.

Things Liesel and I have in common and the virtues I believe every woman needs to imbibe:

  1. Bravery
  2. Curiosity
  3. Knowing the importance friendship
  4. Reading
  5. Never giving up on your dreams.
  6. Ambition

And many more.

In the entire book Liesel steals books at different occasions, yet our hearts do not turn hostile due to thievery but pity and admire the poor soul for her exorbitant urge to learn. In the beginning, she couldn’t write her name, towards the end she writes her own book. That’s what determination is.

Liesel will always be on top of the list when it comes to my favorite fiction characters. She’s the girl I could relate myself to in every aspect. I saw in her my deep love for reading and friendship and family and my intense desire to write a book someday. 🙂

Note: To my friends who aren’t avid readers, there’s a movie adaptation of the book which is not equally but almost as good as the book. One movie you should watch. In case you need further motivation to watch, here’s the trailer of the movie:

Watch it and if you’re a mature and an enlightened soul, you’ll have one of the best 135 minutes of your life.

“If your eyes could speak, what would they say?”

Goodness gracious I love this book.

Rudy: “You’re stealing books, why?”

Liesel: “When life robs you, sometimes you have to rob it back.” 🙂

“WORDS ARE LIFE LIESEL, ALL THOSE PAGES .. THEY’RE FOR YOU TO FILL.

-MAX VANDENBURG.”

You can imagine how powerful this book/movie is that I’m desperately pleading you all to read/watch it.

And yes, another small request, my friend Akash has recently resumed his blogging. He was dormant before but now has stepped back in. If you all could spare a minute and visit his blog.

Thanks.

Have a great day you all. ❤

Dear Reader

Do me a favor, will you? Start Reading. Take out one book everyday, read a single page, hell read a paragraph if you can, but read. Just read. Why am I asking you this? Let me explain you today, why the people who read are better at mostly all the things they do.

The world would be such a better place if people just read. Not the Teen Vogue, not the tech-magazine, but read the words and experiences of the writers who took years to pen down their thoughts, their imagination and their pain. Read, my friend and you will know what madness is. You will know what addiction and depression is. You will live and experience exactly what they did. Whether it is the drunken lover scribbling in the middle of the night, writing prose for his beloved or it maybe a small room brimming with scrolls of texts and stories lying haphazardly, written long before you were born, resting in the layers of dust assembled over time, waiting to be read all over again, to tell their story once again.

 

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You will pass through so many bodies and live the life of people you’ve never known. You’ll gain their experiences and collect their wisdom and their lessons. In this way, dear reader, you’ll become more wise, more insightful. You will experience love and heartbreak, loyalty and betrayal, all through those flat, rectangular pieces of magic called books.

You, dear reader, will make an amazing lover. Because you will know and understand love from inside out, and experience its every miniscule phase. Whether it’s unrequited love or just pure, blissful, maddening love. You will know what it’s like to break someone’s heart and what it’s like to have a heart broken. You will know it all, so you would never hurt anyone, only because you will understand it from both the sides-the broker and the broken.  Loving you would be like loving a thousand different souls.

You will experience deaths and births of character others will never get to know. You will weep in their joy and adversity, you will live with them right till the end, until you finish the very last chapter of their brief story and wish you could live it all over again. My dear dubious reader, with each book you finish you’ll become more cognitive, you’ll understand the human world all the more better, you’ll learn to empathize with people, understand their sorrow, give them pieces of broken advices you learnt from a character in a story you read years before- it will come back to you like electricity.

You”ll have friends that live in books. Friends who will never leave you, and if you put the book down they’ll wait for you patiently to come back and read again. They will understand you and listen to you, they will never leave you alone or let you down.

And the best part of all, dear reader, you’ll have so many adventures to tell, so many stories to narrate, you’ll be an explorer in yourself. You will visit lands far away, unknown to mankind, you’ll watch them getting discovered and getting swept away in time. You will travel places far from the human grasp only by sitting in your couch.IMG_153331903913833[1]

 

People will look up to you. They will know that when they talk to you, they will have tons of fables to listen to, and people will assemble at your feet on a cold, winter evening by the fireside, to hear your voice narrating that tale and to live it with you, just like you did.  They will get shivers each time you say “Once upon a time..” yet with legs crossed they will pay attention to each and every word that drips out of your tongue.

My dear, humble reader, you’ll be able to speak aloud thoughts that you never thought resided within you, you’ll subconsciously unlock them and marvel at them-the thoughts that lay at some far remote corner of your mind.

And lastly, you my kind, cherished and intrigued reader, shall live life in a very thoughtful, fanciful and imaginative way- treasuring the value of every small moment in your life and knowing their importance-storing them to be discovered yet again.

You shall be the very box of magic, which when opened leads the passage to a thousand doorways of lands possessing breathtaking stories of extraordinary characters ready to be lived and discovered again. You shall own the key to the unknown. You will be complete my friend, and the best of all, no matter how much you read, it would never be enough.

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Dear reader, I hope you keep visiting lands and sailing oceans, moving mountains and discovering strange woods with unusual inhabitants and baffling stories. I hope you see beauty in the clouds and the flight of the birds, I hope you see wonder in those loud and splattering waterfalls and I hope that one day amidst the magic and felicity, you find yourself.