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?
Love,

Kunal.


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.

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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.
Love,
Kunal.


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.

The Night of Happenings

Credits: Siddhant Rajadhyaksha NOT FOR REPRODUCTION

Credits: Siddhant Rajadhyaksha
NOT FOR REPRODUCTION

The Night of Happenings

There was a sharp sound in the dead of the night. The wind chime sounded melodious. A swift breeze had set it in motion. The chime’s melody bounced around the extremely spacious hall of the house. It was chilly.

I got up and checked outside. It was a starry night. It was a cold night. It was a clear, pure and heavenly night. And we were right in the middle of it.

So I suggested my friends, the Mansion Man, the Train Fanatic and Mr Sherlock X to head up to the terrace to look at the sky. That beautiful, star-spangled and clear sky. Its vastness looming overhead.

The four of us climbed the steps, the excitement palpable. The house, this beautiful house owned by Mansion Man’s parents, was an architectural beauty. It had big, airy rooms (yes, multiple), its location was perfection, it had two terraces and multiple bathrooms too and most of all, it was situated facing a fantastic scenery. We passed the two bedrooms on the next floor (it was a one storeyed house) and we picked up our coverings. I needed two jackets and socks because of the extreme temperatures. My fellow friends were fine with just one hoodie. I still can’t wonder how they can stand that cold.

But we finally ascended the flimsy ladder and climbed onto the best part of the house: the upper terrace.

The terrace was big and had a small rectangular wall which served as a skylight for the house underneath. And over the terrace, it stood vast and beautiful. It was something I had never seen.

A long ago, I had dreamed of this. My friend, the Train Fanatic, had suggested to go to a faraway hill station for a vacation at night and just stare at the skies all night long. He had said how the stars shone more fully without the artificial lights and how the sky looked complete without the polluted clouds. Since then, a dream had been formed inside my head, of this unseen nature’s beauty. And it had been fulfilled, finally.

The sky was truly spectacular. An inky black canvas, sporting tiny white dots in a specific pattern that Mr Sherlock X rambled on about. It turned out that stars fascinated him as much as trains fascinated my Train Fanatic friend. He showed us the Orion Belt and pointed out some other constellations that were clearly visible from this wonderful town of Vadgaon.

The chilly air was no longer a concern. The numbing feet and hands lay forgotten behind my head. I lay down on the cold, tiled floor, with my eyes fixated on the stars and the moon. How shiny.

It was an experience of a lifetime. A perfect way to spend the nights in a hill-station in winter.

The house we were living in was also near to the town of Talegaon and had a train station in the distance. So of course, we could see and hear the trains pass by. The happiness of Mr Train Fanatic knew no bounds. Different types of engines and routes were explained enthusiastically by him to us. Meanwhile, Mr Mansion Man and Sherlock X took copious amounts of pictures using DSLR cameras of the vastness above. They tried and tried but did not come remotely close to artificially replicating the nature’s beauty. But that is how Nature is. Irreplaceable and untouched.

The night continued, paired with a cup of hot and spicy noodles. It was a perfect combination which went hand in hand with the borderline unbearable, but otherwise cosy cold atmosphere. We slurped those ramen noodles in one go (okay, that is exaggeration, but still!) and the warmth they provided was amazing. It was one of those moments where everything fits.

We proceeded to take pics of each other with something called Light Painting. We posed in a funny way, made patterns and signs using a torch light and did all kinds of crazy stuff on that cold terrace that added to the effect of the night. And it only helped that Mr Sherlock X was a great guitar player. His strumming in the background provided a different, sort of warm melody to our hearts.

Credits: Siddhant Rajadhyaksha NOT FOR REPRODUCTION

Credits: Siddhant Rajadhyaksha
NOT FOR REPRODUCTION

We further climbed down, after lots of pictures and talks, some exciting, other time passing ones, and finally decided to have some dinner. Mr Sherlock X, being Sherlock X, declared that he wanted to make the dinner. And what better dinner in a cold temperature than Maggi noodles.

But of course life isn’t a straight path. It is a winded road. And the Maggi Noodles failed. Miserably. From a bowl of wonder, it turned into a bowl of porridge. It was tasteless, un-eatable and smelt horrible. Mr Sherlock X joked that the thing he had created was perhaps even radioactive.

We made some more, this time I made it correctly, and ate it and Mr Sherlock X and I headed into the chilling night to dispose of the mess.

The night was colder outside than it was on the terrace. Chilling to the bone, the wind swept my hair back. I shivered, but my thin friend Sherlock X was somehow immune to the cold. We dumped the “radioactive waste” in the wastebasket a few metres away from the house and ran back inside, before I turned blue from the cold.

But the initially planned normal night was turning into more of an adventure. And it continued.

Apparently, Mr Mansion Man had forgotten to notice the frigging ARMY of ANTS that was covering the door to the house. And without that knowledge, I had merrily stepped inside the house, scraping my sides on the door.

I jumped in horror, shedding my coat faster than light and screamed in awe. I swear the screams were manly! But my heart left my body and leapt out of my mouth. THOUSANDS of ANTS were dancing and running on my coat, now spreading on the floor, covering the whole house. I yelled to my friends and they looked surprised too. That is when we noticed the Army of Ants on the door and quickly closed it.

Mr Mansion Man turned out to be an efficient one too. And Mr Sherlock X, though not a very great cook, was a big bowl of CALM! They both extinguished the army with one blow of Bug Spray and the brave ants died, one by one. We swept them off the floor and into the night. My coat was finally ANT-free.

We sat on the floor a few minutes later, breathing a sigh of relief, whilst laughing over it. We mused on about the twinkling stars, the radioactive Maggi Noodles Porridge, the Army of Ants and of course my “Super Manly” screams (I swear, they were!). We headed upstairs and sat cosily in one of the rooms, playing Scotland Yard and Poker. Why do you think we call Mr Sherlock X just that? Because he is a very good Scotland Yard player and as Mr X is very chalu (clever).

So the night seemingly came to an end and we stowed ourselves between the deep bowels of blankets, finally closing our eyes. The night was at an end, and the new day would bring us new adventures.

NOPE.

A rooster. That fucking rooster. I don’t usually swear in my blog posts, but this one rooster deserves the worst of the worst. It was nearly 4, for god’s sakes! This rooster cawed (or cried or roosted or whatever it is called) so loudly that the whole house shook. It kept crying out loud, telling us to wake up. It had no freaking business cawing at 4 in the morning. And that is how I nearly stayed up all night, for the first time.

The next morning, we woke up groggily, groaning. Because the rooster, that fucking rooster, still was cawing.

It was a night full of things. A Night of Happenings.

Heya, Bleedsters!
Just wanted to wish you all a very Merry Christmas! Have a great one and enjoy…
Kunal

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.