Life, a Bitter and Sweet Symphony

When I say I like waking up early, I’m not a morning person, I compromise. When I say I’m uncomfortable in up-length dresses, I have no Indian woman as an idol, I compromise. When I say I love being at job, I do not enjoy the pen and paper, I compromise. When I say I’m not tired working for long, I do not mean to flaunt my strength, I compromise. When I say I hate marrying at 23, I do not love my independence, I compromise. When I say I’m happy with my life, I do not experience any special joy, I compromise.

This is the world of fun, laughter and gaiety. If you don't joke, don't laugh with others, at others, the world will ignore you to the extent of negating your presence. So whether or not you are a reserved person, for being included in "the group of maximum", you have to talk, dress, walk and speak with them in the way they want. You will have to "be" them- this is my recent observation of a way of living. But I still remain the same- quiet, reserved, not-so-social with people whom I'm not close to. I don't disclose my secrets to them because I don't want to...I don't talk much with them because I don't find it comfortable- life is to express and not to impress others. So if according to my recent observation, the quiet has no place, I'm happy in my no-man's-land.

I feel that I don’t travel to my job, I travel as a part of my job! Can you feel the difference? My aunt, who is the Branch manager of a reputed Bank in Vasant Kunj, recently said, "If traveling to your job gives you discomfort, your job is not good." She travels a long distance to her Bank, and thus could relate to my pain when I told her, "I get so tired going and coming back from office!" My new office in Janakpuri has everything so good about it, except that it is not reached easily. Please read my Travel Chronology: I step out from my Home Sweet Home and take a rickshaw to the bus-stop. From there I take an over-dover super-duper healthy wealthy over-crowded bus to Moti Nagar Metro Station. (This route bus is always so jam-packed that passengers haplessly exchange each other’s CO2…smell their bad odor …my light blue colored pants are almost shaded with tinch of brown and lack with shoe dust…howsoever neat I comb my hair on leaving, my pony leaves it place and g...

Sometimes I feel low, Sometimes I feel high. Sometimes the happiness is truth, and sometimes it is a lie. Sometimes I feel loved, sometimes I'm alone, Sometimes who hurts is a stranger, and sometimes it is a known. Sometimes the people are cheerful; sometimes the world is chaos, Sometimes they do care, and sometimes they lay-off. Sometimes it hurts, sometimes it gets Okay, Sometimes I hide, and sometimes I convey. Sometimes I feel high, sometimes I feel low, These 'Sometimes' have passed, just a moment ago...

How often does it happen to me that I try to forget, and end up more recalling it. It gives me jitters to think that I have to "forget it". I try my best to forget. One minute I'm successful, the other minute I fail. This game of success and failure has made me fragile…sensitive…self-conscious. Time passed, my attempts to forget continued (continues). Things changed, and I was happy to anticipate that my circumstances and mental illness would be washed away by the passage of time. But the more the things changed, the more I didn't. It has been a long journey...from 'trying to forget' to 'trying to forget'.

Friday is so bright, spreads cheer and smiles, I go home smiling wide, and plan the weekend’s aisle. Two days off from work, seems a heavenly bliss, No computer and emails, no ‘yes sir’, no deadlines miss! The sleep that day is peaceful, I see gardens in my dreams, And Saturday I enjoy, almost in my jeans. Go out, party, eat the snacks, and meet all my peers, ‘Coz soon the day would get over, and Monday would come near. Saturday night my sleep is disturbed, I see horrible nightmares, My system crashes, boss thrashes, and says, “How you dare!” Sunday morning I get wacky, stare clock all the time, My voice gets almost choked, and I start talking in mime. Evening gives me shivers, Oh its Monday coming again! All that work and emails, just make me go insane! Why comes Monday, why do we go to work? No more fun and music, and just work like a clerk? Monday morning gives me blues, I moan in the dawn, Say ‘Good Morning’ to colleagues, though my mouth yawns!

It's a story of two souls, knitted in love, Together they formed a life, higher and above. One winter morning, while singing love songs, They renounced worldly pleasures, and became love monks. And there wasn't anyone around, only she and only him, They hugged each other, and the lights were dim. Walking in the morning fog, they went beyond the sky, Hands in hands, they bid the world good-bye. So deep was the love, the passion so high, They were beyond any pain, and could heard no cry. And there wasn't anyone around, only she and only him, They hugged each other, and the lights were dim. Alone, aloof, united in love, When they found a world, in the world above, The Cupids danced, the Fairies smiled, The sky glittered, and the world seemed bright. Next moment they were in mountains, covered with clouds and snow, Her gown slipped her shoulder each time the wind blow. And there wasn't anyone around, only she and only him, They hugged each other, and the lights were dim. Th...