Myriad Musings

Who are you today?

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Who are you today?

I often wonder

Have you geared up to tackle blunt realities or are you still clouded by conspiracy theories?

Are you still a cosy armchair expert or are you jumping into the field and getting your hands dirty?

Is your full-time job what you’d like to do in leisure? Perhaps, you published the comics, that the seven-year-old you unleashed on walls and chart paper alike.

If genetics wins the Nature vs Nurture debate, then perhaps you’ve found your safe haven in education. I bet you’re raising hell by inspiring your students to rebel.

I hope you’ve embraced your awkward self and still happily flail on the dance floor, fumble song lyrics and stay wary of glass.

I pray you still get lost, every now and then, and go through a memorable adventure to find your way back. Who knows? Maybe those days are long gone and you’ve turned into a visuospatial whiz now.

Do you still talk in your sleep, rush to the sports section in the newspaper and like your coffee strong?

Is your sense of smell still your superpower? I can imagine your distasteful glance when you sniff out spoilt milk in the kitchen, all the way from the terrace.

Does your mind still get its flipflops done by solving puzzles on the commute to work? I picture you multitasking, with your enthusiastic ambidexterity.

I can’t see a bumbling play pal strapping on the boots of parenthood, but enough time has passed for you to build a sweet home and a sweeter family.

I wonder if you’re saving the world, one brick at a time like you always told me you would. You tend to spring into action when it comes to charity.

I know you mastered many a foreign tongue to visit alien lands across the globe. Are you happily experiencing a different city every day? Perhaps, that’s why you’ve never returned home.

Can you imagine, in the world where everyone seems to know everyone, we managed to lose touch and stay lost?

Well, I found the suspense we were looking for in the detective novels we sprinted across. I’ve replaced them with my wondering about you, which is a consistent source of thrill.

At the end of my guessing games, I always come to the same conclusion:

No matter who you are today, I wish you were around.

Copyright © Roshni Ramanan

Goals: To introduce a third person to the reader through an ambiguous, possibly unstable author.

Offer the reader enough space to determine what to believe and what not to, so as to build a caricature of the third party, who may entirely be a figment of the author’s imagination.

To instil a sense of nostalgia, melancholy and loss where ‘loss’ could mean a parting of ways or a more permanent separation, like death.

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Poetry

The wait: Poem

I wait at a bus stop
in summer clothes
My watch has stopped

Looking into the passengers
takes me back to an
adolescent time
blank-slated identities

I wonder if
their purses hold answers
to questions of the future

Intention is ridiculed
I need to buy a ticket
to know where I’m going

Copyright © Roshni Ramanan

Explanation: The poet is in a state of inertia, which she likens to an adolescent state of uncertainty. Time has come to a standstill in the frozen present but comes alive in the past. She is curious as to whether her fellow passengers have successfully resolved their identity crises. Her summer clothes beam of hidden hope for the future. She intends for Action to precede Intention, which is self contradicting. Her destination will be dictated by the ticket she buys, for which she will have to break free from her inertia.

 

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Life lessons, Myriad Musings

Wisecrack in the cheese

“Did you scrape your knee in your descent from heaven ?” and its other cringeworthy variations prove to be one of the cheesiest pick up lines that has outlived generations. Once we’re done with the eye rolling, let’s take a closer look and ask ourselves, “Why can’t we live up to be the angels that the chat up line claims us to be ?”

We certainly could, in the glory days of childhood. Remember the happy abandon with which we flew kites in the terrace and built our own camp fires ?  There was also the unshakeable faith in our artistry, fashioning dolls out of clay and boats out of paper. It was a simpler time when we wore our hearts on our sleeves and stayed true to the things that spoke to us. Amidst growing up and its calculative self-centredness, the angel within us has succumbed to slumber and we leave her drowsy and blindfolded, lest she started asking uncomfortable questions.

There’s a huge irony though. Look at who you root for. We put on our best cheerleader suit for characters in virtual and actual reality, hailing as heroes those who chase outside only that which warms their insides : representatives of the ‘heavenly.’ So why don’t we take a step and join the club ? Surviving on exhibitionism and social credentials- read someone else’s reality– has become a cold cliche. True culture is to do things that make you look forward to tomorrow so much so that approval and survival are goals of the past.

The upgraded search is a hunt for the ‘spirited’ and the ‘soulful.’ Search hard and search deep within, and when you do find it, pass it on. Be vocal about the elation in being a hero, the confidence in embodying all that you believe in and the beauty of a life tailored for yourself, mush like the wondrous doll house you personalised with the undeniable power of a child. Realise that the angel is much better off when she’s wide awake, steering your way from her golden chariot, and so are YOU.

The next time someone hints that you’re angelic, do me a favour and believe them. Own it and your reality is all yours to own !

WordPress daily prompt : Descend

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Myriad Musings

Behind the clouds

She is more unpredictable than the Wheels of Fortune. Graceful like the first drops of rainfall and messy like the puddle they leave behind; fresh and soothing as the autumn breeze and stone cold and heartless as the fall’s withered leaves.

Try to confine her within a single definition of her identity and you will fail, for she plays both sides of the game and exceedingly well. Her deftness in response to your mind games leaves you guessing if you are the victim or the victor. You make a mental note: she would be a formidable opponent in a chess game, as she is in most things.

Justice takes on a new meaning as she urges you to earn your progress every step of the way. Her stormy clouds with their sense of foreboding fail to intimidate you once you realise that they are made of air – air that is liberating, intangible and precious. The sweat of unveiling the enigma behind the clouds ultimately turns into the scent of victory when you soak up the sweet sounds of her soulful song. The worthy destination is a place in the protected land of her heart where you are enveloped in the warm, cozy blanket of her kindness.

She is often termed a question with no right answers; a performer with no target audience. The truth remains that, all that she is merges aptly into perfection, like the plot twists of a suspense thriller. You will understand me when you find her : at the kiss of the sun and the rain; for she is, after all, a rainbow, in all its composite and vibrant splendour.

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