The one with the struggle above the sea

Evening dawned, and with it a struggle.

High above the roaring waves of the Arabian Sea, a battle was ensuing. A mixture of bleak colours fought admirably. I was there, watching it all unfold. Somewhere deep down, I knew who would win.

The blue was missing. I loved the blue of the Sky. It brought serenity with it. Clear and crisp, the Sky was usually the best way to remind me that calmness was essential in life. Today, however, there was no Sky… At least not in its entirety. Here and there, the chaos below the Sky made way for its blue to streak through. In some places, where the rest was missing, the Sky could be seen clearly. It made me realize that even in the most chaotic of times, you can find peace… if you only know where to look.

The grey was a different story. I did not like the murky grey. The clouds that bore this colour were not simple wisps of heavenly cotton – instead, they were ugly and gargantuan, poised to strike. Not only were they huge and monstrous, they were also plenty in number. They were uninvited guests unlikely to take no for an answer. They wanted to conquer the Sky. They wanted to stow the blue away. They wanted grey. They wanted wetness. They wanted to pour. A moment ago, they were non-existent. Now, they were simply there… Appearing out of thin air (which was probably how they were formed). And as I watched it, another realization hit me: problems in life are just like these rain clouds – sudden and random. They can appear at any time in life and can cause chaos as they please. There might be one small grey cloud, or there can be a whole army.

Contrasting the grey was the shining light and my favourite: the yellow. The gift of the Sun and one last hope against the grey. The yellow battled with pride, being weak but also brave. With the help of the blue, it struggled to push the grey away. Using brilliant techniques, it searched for cracks, nooks and crannies in the rain clouds and tried its best to shine through. It was losing. I wanted the blue and the yellow. I wanted the streaks. I hoped it would win. But somewhere deep down, a well calculated decision had made me bring my umbrella along. This only meant one thing: grey was about to win. But the Sun would not back down. And herein lay another bout of revelation, seemingly tailored for me: even in the darkest of times, don’t give up. Be weak, be vulnerable, let the odds be against you but DO NOT GIVE UP. EVER.

I knew the yellow would lose. I knew that grey would shroud blue for months to come. And above all, I knew the outcome of this fruitless battle: monsoon. The first downpour. Rainfall.

And as I stood below my umbrella, an expected outcome becoming real right there in front of my very eyes, another revelation struck me. It shook me. It made my eyes twinkle. Perhaps in the same way the lightning, born from the union of two rain clouds, did.

I swam in this knowledge, in this key realization that would probably uplift my mood for the next few days as I saw the downpour, as I saw the yellow from the Sun overcome by the grey from the clouds, as I saw the blue from the Sky become one with the winner of this great battle of nature. And I smiled.

Because as I saw the rain tumble down in heavy droplets victoriously; as I saw it pelt the ground forcefully and in its full might, I saw something brilliant. It made me realize this: Monstrous and unyielding, the grey clouds may bring darkness, but at the same time, they gift us rain and in doing so bring about real beauty of nature. Similarly, life may bring problems, and along with it darkness, but why at all should this mean that the problems are our doom and forever?

After all, it wasn’t a battle. It was just another chapter of life. Another phase. Another cycle. And while the clouds had conquered, they too would pass. They too would go away. And one day, the yellow would shine again.

Heya Bleedsters!
Saying that it has been a long time since my last post would be a gross under-statement. Its been a busy year for me and I am not ashamed to admit that the frequency of the posts has been shaken up quite a bit because of that. But that does not stop me from writing another post for you guys. I hope it provides some sort of an inspiration to all. Better late than never, and even better than hardly ever, right?

As always, if any of it made you smile, laugh, frown or giggle like a little baby, comment share and like! To be up-to-date with my other posts, give a like to my Facebook page and follow onTwitter if you use it! Any images used are either taken from Google Images, from my own personal collection or some other sources (which will be mentioned if and when, unless stated otherwise). Contact me if you want it removed.


Dealing with an Unexpected Situation

I stood still and unmoving. Quietness was encompassing me. It was a hot day, but a good kind of hot. The only thing I could say about the day was that it was perfectly normal. It was clean. No sweats. No problems at all. Everything was fine. I was comfortable as hell and expecting the unexpected. Then, cold water washed over me.

Comfort fled; I jumped in shock. Now, I was sweating. It was a different kind of sweat – no, it was rather a tingling feeling. From the tip of my fingers, to my now wet palms to my heart, the tingle spread. A millisecond later, extremely quick numbness took the tingle’s place and froze me. I felt as if I was standing at the end of a long tunnel, watching my life unfurl like a flag, or play out like a movie at the other end, instead of living it in reality. My mind, or whatever was controlling it, had snuck inside, deeper, so that I felt lost at the wake of the moment.

I realized a clock-tick later that I was not drenched. Neither was I wet, nor was there any water, cold or hot. It wasn’t the change in my body temperature, or the serious shock from the cold water that had me in cold sweats that one could not see physically, but simply feel. It was the situation.

I was in a situation that made me afraid. An uncomfortable one. An unexpected one. It made my tongue tickle, it made my skin crawl, and it left me phased out. It didn’t matter what the shock was. Hell, it doesn’t even matter what the situation was. It could be an unexpected person I never want to see who had appeared in front of me, or it could be a test result that had just popped up that showed ‘Failed.’ It could be anything from terribly good to delightfully bad. It doesn’t matter. This is not about that.

This is instead about what to do next. How do you face the fear? How do you snap out of it?

Let me take an analogy of my friend. He recently went through an awry friendship fight. He happened to see his friend a few weeks later, in a public place. And he just froze. Right there, a thousand things must have popped up in his mind, a thousand levels of changes must have happened in his body. He must have frozen predictably because of the unexpected situation. And hours later, he confided in me that he felt guilty for feeling this. And that is when he asked me the question that made me write this: Why?

Why do we feel so phased out when the unexpected intrudes our path? What is it about the crappy situations that we are forced into that renders us speechless? Why, oh frigging why, do we have to stare in numbness at the thing we never wanted to happen (but has)?

I, sadly, do not have the answer to this. Perhaps one day, I will. But for now, I become as phased out as the next man. I find myself under a shocking situation that I did not even think about occurring, I stand there quietly. I stand there motionless. People could mistake me for a pillar.

But the one thing I learnt, is that, the more you grow, the more you learn. And the more you learn, the more you are accustomed to such situations. A few years ago, if you had seen me in such a situation, I would truly be an aforementioned pillar. But as I have grown, as I have experienced, I realize so much. I have learnt to expect the unexpected. I have learnt to deal with situations in a much more non-frozen (forgive me for making up a word) manner. I embrace the shock, and move on.

Hey, Bleedsters!
This is my 41st post! I have finally completed 40 posts on my blog and have successfully crossed the milestone. It feels good, and I need some good. Why? Because Engineering exams have ensued. Its like a battle between the different parts of my brain. Its exhausting. This post might be a little crazy, one of the intellectual posts I have ever done, but it is new kind of writing. In no way is it actually intellectual but I thought I would share my views on it anyway. 

Those who do not have exams right now, must be enjoying their summer. Happy vacations to them.

As always, if any of it made you smile, laugh, frown or giggle like a little baby, comment share and like! To be up-to-date with my other posts, give a like to my Facebook page and follow on Twitter if you use it! Any images used are either taken from Google Images or from my own personal collection or other sources which will be mentioned if and when, unless stated otherwise. Contact me if you want it removed.

Worth It (a Spiderman Fan Fiction)

Source: here

Disclaimer: This is a fan-fiction written by me about a very popular character from Marvel Comics. I do not own any rights to this character or its fictional world. I am simply borrowing him for sometime, since I like creating stories. It is also my first time writing such a story, bear that in mind.

Worth it
by Kunal Nayak

The wind was harsh. A chilly air swept his hair as it always did in the city of New York. Peter couldn’t help but feel sad. It was the same thing, over and over again. He always sat here, feeling helpless. He always waited in the dark for some change. This particular location, the top of the Daily Bugle headquarters, was his favourite place. It was a high tower, with a huge neon DAILY BUGLE sign on top of it. His personal favourite had always been the letter B in the sign.

So that is where he was perched upon when he was sitting cross-legged that night. It had been a long night. Events had transpired and he had chased down the bad guys like he always had. After a short victory and some cheers from the citizens, he had swung high from one building to another and finally come to rest on this building. It gave him comfort and some time to think.

Recently, though, he had started to realize that the help he was giving to these people, the good he was trying to do, had been for nothing. He thought back to the times he had saved innocent civilians from mean thugs or robbers. Back in the day, things had been simpler. All he had to do was shoot a web, take the guy down with his agility and that would be it. The NYPD would appear in no time after an “anonymous tip” and capture the guy.

Then, the crazies came out. One by one, they appeared. First, it was the Chameleon. A guy who could hide his disappearance very well. One of a kind, Peter had taken days to find out what was going on. You should understand his side too, though. He thought that his little biology mishap had made him one of a kind too. Instead, these months later after the mishap, he had encountered the man who could change forms.

It didn’t stop there, though. Chameleon was gone, after a fortnight of fighting and using shrewd observation skills on Peter’s part. It worked, in the end. But for the good? Because not a week later, another Crazy had fashioned himself from the cloth of New York. He called himself the Vulture. A mad inventor who had created ingenious mechanical wings and used his superhuman strength to wreak havoc. It had taken Peter a lot of thinking and strategy to take down a man who could fly and potentially squash him to a pulp. Peter had saved innocent lives at that time, saving the people from the Vulture’s wrath. But had it actually changed anything?

Doctor Octopus, Sandman, Lizard, Electro and many more came after the Vulture. It seemed that over time, the instability of mental health and extent of crime curved upwards. The bad guys continued to come one after another. They kept doing bad things. Peter felt helpless sometimes, and right now, he was feeling the same.

His thoughts took a swift turn towards his amateur days. They had called him “The Masked Vigilante” back then. A simple diving suit of blue and red, with a shabby spider insignia, had been his “costume”. The Commissioner had chased him for quite a while, trying think of ways to catch him. But Peter had always slipped away quietly.

A chuckle escaped his lips but as quick as it had come, it went away. The smile disappeared as a small thought grew like a sapling in his mind- why he had decided to wear the red and the blue in the first place.

It had been a while since he had thought of his deceased uncle. It seemed like an eternity now. All those days of angst, all his anger at his uncle for being dead, it almost seemed laughable now. He remember that particular day, the day the Masked Vigilante had died and Spider-man had been born. His thoughts went back all the way to the fight with the bully in High School, the Angsty Teenager talk his uncle had given him, his ignorance at his uncle’s words and then the shooting. If only he had listened to Uncle Ben.

But that is what his mind always jumped to. If only he had been a good nephew, Uncle Ben would be alive. But over time, he had learned to forgive himself. That did not mean, however, that it didn’t sting.

He had come a long way, truly.

But had it made a difference?

Every day, people got hurt. Every day, a new threat exposed itself to the city. Every day, crime would show its ugly face. So how had he helped? He shook his head, the cold from the night not affecting him. The B under him flickered. He closed his eyes, trying to immunize himself from the nausea that the flickering the sign was causing. He did not want to move however. This was the only place he could be.

He did not like his apartment. The small, messy place was less than welcoming. And certainly not peaceful. He did not want to disturb Aunt May at this hour of the night, and besides, what would he tell her? That him being Spider-man had helped no one. He did not want to give the old lady a heart attack! But then again, would she? She was a strong lady. He thought of the time she had hit Doctor Octopus over the head with a stick. Repeatedly. And the six-armed monster had not been able to do anything.

Another chuckle. And again, it vanished in thin air the moment it had come on his lips.

Technical jargon escaped the Police Radio but by now, he had learnt what it meant. He quickly leapt down the B sign and swung high. One after the other, he dangled away from the blocks, trying to find the robbery in progress. His inner dilemma was tearing him apart. But he did not let that affect his job. No, not the one as a photographer in Daily Bugle. His real job.

He searched the alleyway the police had stated in the radio. He could not find anyone there. His experience as a long-time crime fighter made him realize that perhaps the person had fled. Right now, some thug was chasing down the victim down the alleyways in the city.

He swung back up, arching his back. The spider-senses weren’t tingling. They were strictly on hibernation. But then so was his morale. His mind kept pulling him away from the thug that he was chasing, back to his dilemma.

He finally found them. The thug had cornered the victim, a balding man with his wife and child. They were neatly dressed but were looking thoroughly scared. The child, a nine year old boy, was shaking. He was hiding behind his mother.

“Give me everything you’ve got!” the thug was yelling threateningly. “Or else…”

The threat lingered in the air, hanging like a low-lying branch. But the man, although scared, was not deterred.

Bravely, he pushed his wife and son behind him and said firmly, “NO!”

The thug waved his gun, brandishing it aggressively. Peter was ready to jump any time now. The man kept denying the thug, the thug kept threatening the innocent family.

Once again, the same story. Had anything changed? Crime was still prevalent in the city, after all his hard work.

“Look, Spider-man!” said the wife, pointing upwards. Peter, who had been looking away, whipped his head back to the crime-in-progress.

As Peter recoiled in place, ready to spring, he watched something strange. Something beautiful.

The man was fleeing. The thug with the gun, scared at the notion of Spider-man apparently, had thrown his gun aside and fled, without taking a second look upwards. Another pang of surprise as Peter realized that the woman was not pointing at Peter. She was pointing in the wrong direction.

So the woman had been lying. And the notion of Spider-man had led the thug to stop his crime. The boy smiled to his mother, crying. But he could sense the happiness in the tears. His eyes darted upwards, perhaps trying to locate the cause of a peculiar shadow at the place on the opposite building. They met with the real Spider-man.

But Peter had swung away, before the rest of the little family had looked too. He smiled to himself, knowing it had made a difference. Knowing, it was definitely worth it.

Although the crime in the city was very much still in existence and the people were still being taken advantage of, one thing was different. He had given them hope. He had given them something to use to fight against darkness. He had given them light.

As he swept away from the late-night bustling city, ready to collapse on his bed in exhaustion from both his jobs, a thought came across his mind. This time it was a good one.

Had it changed anything?

He could hear his Uncle Ben’s voice saying a resounding “Yes!”

A few blocks away, the B in the Daily Bugle’s neon sign shone brightly, no longer flickering.

-The End-

As always, if any of it made you smile, laugh, frown or giggle like a little baby, comment share and like! To be up-to-date with my other posts, give a like to my Facebook page and follow onTwitter if you use it! Any images used are either taken from Google Images or from my own personal collection or other sources which will be mentioned if and when, unless stated otherwise. Contact me if you want it removed.