Of Belonging and Understanding

Vacations are over. I’m already through a week of college. Yes, I’m in the final year now (graduation, bitches!). I don’t know how I feel about that. But the best part is that I’m studying English Literature. Finally! Vacations were a bit disappointing as my much awaited Himalayan trek got canned. So, for a couple of days I was cribbing. Most of my time was spent by reading books and watching movies, as usual. The entire enterprise of socializing didn’t seem appealing and seemed pretty doomed; hence, the quest to find solace in the fictional world. Also, my 365 Days Project kept me busy; I wrote many letters and postcards throughout my vacation and I’m still doing that. Somehow it is very self contradictory -wanting to reach out to people through letters and create a memorabilia and yet seeming distant from them. But what the hell! Letters make me happy.

There isn’t any specific reason for this blog post. Just random musings because I wanted to shake things off. I was pondering over a few things…one of them being the purpose of literature and fiction. As Josh Radnor had put forth in Liberal Arts – “The purpose of fiction is to combat loneliness.” I feel it is very profound. I believe in every ounce of it. The problem begins when I try to find human equivalents of these characters. Then the eternal fear seeps in – that life wouldn’t turn out to be like literature. It is said that art imitates life which in turn transmutes life. But what if life wants to imitate these crazy imaginations and utopian ideas in our heads? Is that even possible? It is sort of living in a denial. Does that mean everything that I’m trying to achieve and the journey to reach somewhere, somewhere that I belong, is all a feeble and a futile attempt?

Things don’t always work out in our favour. Mick Jagger has taught me that – “You can't always get what you want. But if you try sometimes well you might find…You get what you need.” Life is already complicated enough. And to add to that we have to fight these existential demons which haunt us and the ghouls of the past. Problems exist for everyone. They mean different to different people. They are not comparable. The fact remains that they do exist; we’ve got to find ways to deal with them and try to feel okay about them.

I’ve been making some amends…rejuvenating old bonds. It is a universal fact that people drift apart. It is bound to happen. Everyone differs in their thoughts and has different perspectives. We need to find a common thread that keeps us tied together. Everyone has a valid reason for being however they are. Only if everyone was sensitive and understanding enough to accept people the way they are. The other day I was having a random chat with a friend on Facebook. I love these random conversations.  It gives you these little moments to understand people and that in turn defines the closeness and the thought process. It enables us to live in that very moment which escalates into something larger and meaningful...something worth living for. I shall wrap up with a quote from the movie Before Sunrise, this quote speaks volumes and is very thoughtful-

"I believe if there's any kind of God it wouldn't be in any of us, not you or me but just this little space in between. If there's any kind of magic in this world it must be in the attempt of understanding someone sharing something. I know, it's almost impossible to succeed but who cares really? The answer must be in the attempt."

Lights

                                It was winter. Twilight began to fall and there was no trace of wind. He was sitting at his usual spot in the park; it was a few minutes away from his house. Usually he would take a book along with him to read or he would listen to music. While reading, he would shift his attention for a brief moment to observe the people around him. And then again he would become completely oblivious as he would resume reading. He believed that the purpose of fiction was to combat loneliness which gave an assuring sense of belonging. He enjoyed solitude. He felt that it was perfectly alright to spend time alone and not be defined in the presence of  the company of others'. But today wasn't one of those days. The grey clouds had cast a penumbral shadow on him. He felt sucker punched and miserable. He had built those walls around him as a line of defense. He wanted someone to get those walls down. Tears had stained his cheeks. His eyes were still hazy. He dabbed them with the sleeves of his black cardigan. He wiped his spectacles and put them on. He gazed at the swarm of moths which were lingering around the street light. He quite liked the design of this street light because it had an ancient and rustic charm to it. But the same street light which had a charm that he liked made him sad today.  The swarm of moths made him sad. People around him made him feel sad.

                                She came and sat next to him, keeping her bag next to her but not between them. They didn't talk. Not a single exchange of words. He felt comforted in her presence. She knew exactly what he was feeling. She knew how unhappy and broken he was. She began to search something in her bag. Her movements were very calm and she was composed. She drew out a candle followed by a matchbox. She lit the candle, picked up her bag, hung it on her right shoulder and stood up. He looked at the flame of the candle. He loved candles.  Then he looked at her face which was illuminated by the candle. She turned and began to walk. He too got up and followed her. The flame of the candle flickered as she walked ahead. He still walked behind her hoping that the candle shouldn't go out. People looked at them. They didn't really care. They reached the apartment. She opened the door carefully as she had still held the candle in her hand. A few drops of wax had fallen on her hand. She didn't wince or anything of that sort.

                                She entered his bedroom. He was still behind her. She mounted the candle on an ornate candle stand that lay on his desk which was surrounded by many books.  The candle filled the entire room with an aura of positivity. She hugged him and left. He sat on his bed and found a folded sheet of paper torn from a spirally bound notebook with rounded corners that lay on his pillow. He unfolded the paper and read the words which were written with a fountain pen of blue ink. Those words written in her cursive handwriting made him feel wanted and loved. He then looked at the flame of the candle and began to cry silently, tears streaming down his face. This time he was happy and was engulfed with a sense of euphoria. The words on the sheet of paper read –

“Lights will guide you home.

And ignite your bones.

And I will try to fix you.”

You've Got Mail!

Summer is already here and there’s no trace of my semester end exams. Thanks a lot to the teachers’ strike. I’m really clueless about my exams. It already feels like vacation though it isn’t. It is pretty annoying; neither I’m able to study properly nor I am able to enjoy. I study for a while and end up taking longer breaks. The marvellous world of internet adds to the procrastination. Besides the daily mundane activities, I read a lot (which I do at other times as well. I’m a book monster that way, I devour books). Also my creative genius seems to be in full swing. I’ve been writing lately. So here’s another blogpost (I’m on a roll! Whoop to me!).The purpose of this post is to encourage you guys to write letters. Yes, you read that right! Actual HANDWRITTEN LETTERS!

                              I was fascinated with the sheer power of paper and pen. How few simple words can make someone’s day! So I was all determined to write letters; to friends, family and strangers. I started off by writing letters and posting them to my friends. They were really happy to receive them. A postman standing at your door with an envelope/parcel in your name, my friends couldn’t shrug off that feeling. Same was the case with me. How I wish the postman would say ‘You’ve Got Mail!’ while handing over the letters to me! (Such whimsical fancies I tell you). But that’s not the point. The point is to put down your feelings and thoughts on paper and posting them to your loved ones. It feels good. It really does. Sometimes it isn’t about efficiency of words but bleeding yourself out through the nib of the pen.

                                The most difficult part is waiting for replies. It seems like eternity until you receive the replies. It kills me. Last week I posted about a dozen letters and postcards. I’m still waiting for the replies. But it is worth the wait. The feeling when you receive your letter is invincible. Some people reply, some don’t. But that doesn’t discourage me from writing to them. Some people ask me, “Why don’t you use email?” Well! Emails are good. But I want something tangible, something that I can touch and feel and hold it close to my heart. When I feel blue, I open my locker and dig out the old letters and read them. It instantly makes me happy. Well! I’m a sucker for letters that way.

                                I also started leaving letters in parks/cafes/bookstores for people, whom I don’t know, whom I’ve never met and probably whom I’ll never meet. But if my letter gets someone through the day then why not do it. Thus, I began leaving the letters all over my neighbourhood and my college. There are people out there (like me) who still believe in letters, postcards and parcels. It feel good to know that they do share the same feelings as me about the wholesome goodness packed in envelopes with stamps on it. It isn’t really that difficult you see. So what are you waiting for? Make someone’s day by surprising them with a letter in the mail!

          

    

 PS - Visit the following two sites:

 www.moreloveletters.com

www.sugarcubefactory.com

Campus Confidential Confessions

                I was going to procrastinate a bit more but the current events in the cyber world (read Facebook) have compelled me to act upon it soon. The contemporary trend on Mark Zuckerberg’s social network is that of ‘Confession Pages’; seems like every college has one. Naturally, my college has one too. So…why does it appeal to the Smartphone totting youth of my college? The answer is really simple. You can post most vicious and mean things about people, and that too anonymously! Looks like everyone is turning into a Gossip Girl. Well! I used to watch that series; and let me be honest…I quite liked it (please do not judge me on this basis). Drama and all that shit are fine on the screen. But who knew that the bitchiness would materialize in the form of a confession page!

                Let me explain the modus operandi of this page to you. There is an Administrator, let us title him/her the unprecedented Gossip Girl, who handles this page. Students anonymously send in their tips/confessions about their fellow denizens to the administrator who then posts it on the Confession Page. Most of the posts on the page are cheesy love confessions about people who seem to be at the top of the social pyramid (in their own bloody heads) and the college quadrangle being their empire. Other posts include people unnecessarily being mean and trying to pull each other down; sort of reminds me about the ‘Burn Book’ from Mean Girls. There are a few genuine and sweet confessions/compliments about people, which in fact is very rare. Some people manage to embarrass themselves and that definitely has no romantic angle. There are a few creepy posts too – “Your hair smells nice, I make myself happy (euphemism used here. The obvious meaning being *you know what I mean*) on the last bench of the class and wipe my hands on other people’s shirt, I like you and we could have wonderful babies, etcetera etcetera”. Such confessions will undoubtedly earn these folks a restraining order.

                Another intriguing thing about this page is people’s sense of grammar; horrible grammar and atrocious English, a perfect recipe for a laugh riot. The good thing about this page being that psychology students have got a lot of personalities and subject matter which they could use in their assignments. The confession page is more of a gossip generator; a device that is used by people so that they can be downright mean and ridicule others. Whoa! You bash people up by anonymously posting mean things about them on the cyber space. You must be a cool person of the highest order and NOT a cyber bully. Really! People need to get a life. As long as this was harmless fun, I didn't mind it. But people have really gone to extreme ends and posted awful things. People might have a breakdown or something. Let’s just hope that the Gossip Girl shows some restrain and censors all the mean posts. I would like to end this blogpost with a quote from Gossip Girl, the original drama series –

“Some masks we put on because it’s truly who we want to be. Some we wear because we can’t bear to face what’s really underneath. Or because it’s what someone else need us to be. And some masks we wear because we hope to stay HIDDEN. But that’s the problem with wearing masks. They can be ripped off at any moment.”

PS – I would like to thank my friend, Mohima Barua, for her inputs.

For Charlie, Sam and Patrick : The Perks of Being a Wallflower

                                There are some books that stay with you forever and become a part of you. No matter what you do, the characters keep coming back to you and hang on to your psyche and heart. Stephen Chbosky’s The Perks of Being a Wallflower is one such book. Written in an epistolary format, the book touches the inner most cells of your heart and moves you. Being a fan of letters, I loved his style of writing. The simplicity and confessional nature of the entire novel kept me gripping. It is one of those books which don’t need a bookmark because you can’t keep it down until you finish it.

                                It is not one of those literary fiction books which is heavy in content or anything of that sort. It is a simple narrative of a high school boy named Charlie and his psychological proceedings. Chbosky has avoided the use of heavy words and kept it very simple. That is the beauty of the book. I was able to connect with it on many levels. The words not seem to come from but through and manage to carve a niche in your soul. Chbosky has created characters which make you believe that they do really exist in the real world; that you could instantly be friends with them.

                The protagonist of the novel is Charlie who writes letters disclosing his personal problems and events of his life to this person whose identity is not disclosed to the readers. Thus begins an epic journey of self discovery, finding your own set of people and feeling infinite with them because you know that you belong. Charlie along with his two best friends Sam and Patrick experiments with various things and help each other out through those poignant days of what we call it as ‘growing up’.

                The characters in this book seem very real. I developed a bond with them. After I finished reading the book, I was devastated because I didn’t know what to do. I re-read certain sections of the novel. I was hung-over with the characters and couldn’t let them go. And finally I’ve managed to write this blogpost after almost a month or something after finishing the book. Only a bibliophile knows what it is to let go of a fictional character that you love so much. But then, I know that they aren’t far away. All I have to do is open the book and read it, again. Charlie, Sam and Patrick have become an eternal part of me (along with many other fictional characters that I adore).

P.S – This one is for you Charlie, Sam and Patrick.