We have moments in a day, counted, conditioned moments. Moments that are not in our hands, and those we feel with our hands, or those that we feel with someone’s hand locked in ours.
The moments are counted, the seconds are counted, just like our memories of them. However less the memories might be, they are always enough to overwhelm us and take us captive in the past we don’t want to revisit. We have been there, once, twice, every single night for 6 months straight and then in every moment we cherished and every moment we wished didn’t exist.
All these are constrained to seconds or rather to a second, all the others around it were a build up, just seconds that created that one second long moment. There are only a few of these in a day, you can a counted so many, of course, if we are done sleeping and creating wrinkles on the bedsheet that look more complex than the structure of the DNA.
Whatever you do, wherever you go, seconds follow you. If only we counted things and memories in seconds instead of hours or days or years, we would know how precious and delight full they are. You never spend 2 years and a few months with someone you spend millions of seconds, together.
It is strange that things exist for fractions of a second, they are born and face death even before second passes and yet they create memories of in their own lives, in lives of thing around them and things that are to come in the next fractions. So, I’ll say that we are just fortunate enough to have so many, or unfortunate enough that we cannot treasure every second.
Whatever your thought is, just remember each second is precious and each second spent well is worth treasuring, just keep them in your pocket and your zips locked.
<- Read the Previous Part Here
Our little hero flapped and fluttered but his pace downwards kept on increasing. After a while, there was no flapping, fluttering our any other struggle. He was just falling down. He gave up all hope and looked down at the rock he was headed too. For a moment he thought he was mightier than the Griffin and he could fly high and save himself, and in the next, he knew it was not going to happen because that thought was what brought him here.
He looked at the rock again and then at the vast blue sky he would never be able to touch ever again. He closed his eyes and trusted his ears to declare his death with his bone and blood splatter. The gushing wind and the silence of the mountain would let him die off in silence. All to himself.
He heard air being sliced, he thought it was his beak parting the air, but in the next, he heard it again and then felt a strong grip holding on him. He was still going down but his fall was slowing down, and then he was flying sideways and then up. He opened his eyes to find himself in the claws of the mighty Griffin!
The beast looked down at him and smiled. “Enjoying the ride, little mate?” The Griffin asked. Before our champ could respond, the Griffin dropped him and he landed into his nest and bounced off the soft hay at the edge, dust and feathers filling the air around him.
“Take care!” The Griffin said and flew out of sight.
“Are you okay?” The little eagle’s sister asked.
“No! What does he mean little mate? I’m not little! I’m a mighty eagle, look at these wings!” He spread his wings tiny wings which were incapable of flight. “And why did he drop me? Could he not let me down gently? Where did he go!” I yelled on top of his voice.
“Are you okay?” His mom and dad came in looking at him, tears falling down their eyes. “Bless that Griffin that saved my little child” cried his mom.
“Yes, I’m fine, just teach me how to fly! I’m ready” He said.
“No, you are not.” Said his father. “We just saw that.”
“I’m ready, I just got scared and forgot to-”
“Scared of what?” his father interrupted him.
“Scared of… scared of… height! I got scared of height.”
“Well done, you are so ready to fly!” his father said and flew off into the oblivion.
“Don’t laugh!” He said to his sister when he heard her chuckle. “I’m going to fly, and it is going to be tonight! You’ll see.”
To be Continued…
*Image from MythorTruth.com
I forget. I forget a lot more than I should. I forget about turning off my PC. I forget to do tasks that I’m supposed to do. I forget to shut the refrigerator door after taking what I need, heck I forget to take stuff from the refrigerator. I forget to turn off the stove, I forget to meet people I was supposed to meet. I call up friends and wish them for their birthday at 11 p.m. because I know I’ll forget it by 12.
I forget a bit too much. I guess I have stated my point. Then someone just suggested me to use sticky notes. She said whatever you forget use a note and write it down. So I have a note dangling on my monitor right now, saying that I should call her up, at 6 p.m., 29th April 2014. It is still there. She wrote her number too just in case I forget that.
I have a bundle of sticky note right by the pen stand. It is there and it has always been there since she left it. Not that I don’t forget things anymore and I don’t need them, just that I forget to use the sticky note. So, probably stick a sticky note on sticky notes saying “use sticky notes”, maybe? It might work.
About the call, from the note staring at me from my monitor? Well, I didn’t. Not because I forgot to call her, and I didn’t forget her number, I never did. But because we weren’t talking. We weren’t talking talking then and we aren’t talking now.
I now have sticky notes all around the place, my roomie did that for me. A note to take medicine on the computer monitor, a note to do my job on the TV remote. A note to go out for dinner on the refrigerator and everything else that I might forget, well, will forget. I guess they will eventually work on me someday but I’m not changing out of my pajamas to eat between people and socialize when I can have leftover pizza.
I guess for once I can do without sticky notes but she might need them. For I only forget things and not people.
Hey you!
Yes, you!
Will you help me find,
The sunshine of my mind?
I don’t know how she looks,
I don’t know what she wears,
I don’t know what she does,
Or if she even dares.
I don’t know what she loves,
I don’t know what she likes,
I don’t know if she’ll take my rose,
Or if she hates the spikes.
I don’t know if she’s young,
I don’t know if she’s old,
I don’t know if she’s beautiful,
Or just outright and bold.
I don’t know and I don’t care,
Just that she’s my sunshine,
Help me find her if you dare,
And I’ll tell her that she’s mine.
All I know is one thing,
The church, the school,
The clock, the fool,
All have bells that ting,
And she sings,
whenever they ring.
I write, and that’s all I need to do.
I’m not exceptionally good, but I’m better than many and I’m definitely better than those who stare at their computer screens for hours before they could type in an email. I’m not the master of literature, but I know it enough to make a living out of it. Besides, whatever I write, is my hubris*.
I’m a gamer and I dare to play in ‘Veteran’ mode, completing the game within 6 hours, is my hubris. I have a rank in the world, I’m in top thousands and not one of the unranked ones, the rank is my hubris.
I’m an armature gym-freak. I just started and I don’t mind flaunting the little bumps and crevasses I’ve started to feel on my body. Of course, I know no one would take me to be their brand athlete, but I’m more flexible and could run much longer than those giants. These little victories are my hubris.
Yes, I am Atelphobic, yes I am afraid of never being “good enough”, but then again, the only way to beat the fear of not being good is to take pride in what we do. The only way to beat the fear is to prepare yourself against what it does to you.
Tell yourself that you are the best-goddamned writer in the world, the best player the world has ever seen and you are the best at whatever you are doing, take pride or rather “Ghamand”(Hindi) in whatever you do. What is life is not earning and paying bills? If not being renowned.
An author once said, “To me, you are successful, if you are doing what you love and you can pay the bills.”
My grades might be low, but I know my life won’t be.
I can live an anonymous life but I want an eminent death.
*hubris – Having excessive pride or self-confidence.
I write. That’s it. That’s all I could do.
I don’t write well, it’s not something I can take pride in, I’m okay-ish. There’s nothing else that I can do. I am a gamer, online multiplayer gamer, currently in top 7%, continent-wide, if that counts. There are only a few thousand people better than me, but I don’t think being in top thousands matters.
I’m getting offers to work in the field I love, from people I don’t know and people I know. But they are just offers, they haven’t seen my work. I suck at it. There are thousands of others doing the same thing as me. They didn’t get the offers because they weren’t lucky enough, or probably they just didn’t get noticed, but if they did get noticed they would get the offers too.
Probably it’s because I show up on google when you search my name, that could be it. If they had an online presence, they would have got the offers, not me. I’m just not good at it.
My friend suggested that I should start streaming my games. I’m entertaining, he says. I don’t think anyone would ever turn up to see a noob playing a game. And I’m not as such entertaining. I just call out to people playing with me, that isn’t entertaining, I don’t think it is.
Another guy called me up at 4 in the morning to get a letter done. There are so many people that could have done that for him. It was just a 1000 words essay. I guess he was just constricted by time and had no other option. I guess that has to be it, else he would have never called me.
I go to gym, nearly daily. See I don’t go daily. Yes, I deadlift and leg press more than people working out for over a year now. But their posture is better, their pressure points ought to be right, else with wrong postures like me, they would have definitely done better than me. Years of calisthenic training isn’t going to help me lift heavier, no way.
I’m doing all of this to get something. I gym, I’m writing, trying to create a personality of my own, trying to be the alpha. I’m trying to earn even before I complete my education so that I can just buy that thing. But the shopkeeper too, finds it precious and is obviously in a much better state to hold it, than I am.
I guess I’ll just never be good enough to snatch it away from the shopkeeper. I’ll probably just suffer from my atelophobia*.
P.S. These are the thoughts of a regular someone. We all suffer from atelophobia at least once, in one situation and then we do get over it. Yes, it tough to get over it, but we do. Just take hubris in everything you do. Stay connected to read Hubris next!
I’m just glad that this fear had a name unlike the fear of losing someone.
*Atelophobia – The fear of never being good enough
<-Read the previous article here
Right after Cost placed his demands everyone in the town was aggravated. No wanted to work, everyone was already frustrated by the workload they had, no there being no ways of entertainment, only meant more frustration.
The town, however, had to work anyways they had taken up the task. No matter how much frustration they had from the overdose of duties and lack of entertainment. Everyone was working overtime. There were very little return from the work they put in, but they had to do it. It was the start, a wise old man in the town explained. The start is always the hardest. The gains are little, but if you see it in multiples, it sounds good.
With the way they were working earlier they were earning thousands every single day. On the new start, the gains were as little as a hundred a week, but it doubled every week too. It went from 100, 200,400, 650 and it kept on going up every week. There was no saturation, like there was earlier. That’s a start, the man explained.
They worked and worked for a year and then Chance came in to visit the town. The town looked at him in aww and before he could tell who he was, everyone knew. They greeted him and let him into the town. Work, Will, Hope and Try, made firm handshakes, never letting go of Chance, and there it was.
Chance had his followers, Chance had an audience, Chance had town they could trade with, Chance gave them the ticket to be the Golden Town. Their profits multiplied. They increase in manifolds and there it was a self-sufficient, self-created town, all they needed was Chance.
They had created the Drama everyone wants.
Love. At first sight? Does it happen or does it not? I don’t know, maybe, but maybe not.
Love is a strange thing. A love affair is… is… stranger? It makes you do things you don’t want to and happens when you are not ready. It hits you by chance and takes you away with it. It’s like a cup of hot chocolate or an LED strip behind a gaming monitor or an underglow on a supersport, maybe? You set your eyes on it and you can never take them off it.
You fall in love at first sight with a Lamborghini or a Vintage. You fall in love at first sight with a chocolate smoothie or a cheese burst pizza. You fall in love at first sight with things that are expensive, that look good and that everyone likes. You never fall in love with things that don’t look good, and love is not about looks.
You fell in love with a Lamborghini which does not have an engine, you fell in love with a Vintage that does not start, you fell in love with a pizza that stinks and a smoothie that is fake. You will not fall in love with spinach unless you realize it’s a spinach shaped chocolate. You might still not fall for it.
A family van is not going to get your attention unless it starts and you realize at the back it has a Ferrari engine. That’s how it works at first sight. You fall in love with the body and not with the person, not with the soul, and that’s exactly what love is not about. It’s more than just body, it’s more than just the looks. It’s about the person, it’s about what’s inside that just outside.
Yes, your mother did fell in love with you at the first sight, but she has loved you, even before she saw at you. She loved you for the man or woman you are going to be, and not for the looks, and let’s face it, no one looks good when they are born.
True love is not what you get when you are on top of the world, it’s just golddiggers there. It is when you are bankrupt, heartbroken, in rags and when you don’t have time to care about the word. For true love waits, it takes your back, pushes you and motivates you.
True Love hits you at your worst, not at the best.
P.S. This post is not for Popeye, for he will fell for spinach at first sight.
P.S.S The only true love you will find at first sight is with a puppy. It might just work between you guys.
My life is like a rollercoaster that only goes up!
This, sounds so good. You know listening to someone making constant progress in their lives. Reaching new heights and getting more every single day. It sounds so good that you wish you could say the same about yours, and do everything just like they are. But have you been on a rollercoaster?
You sit, tighten your belt and the ride starts with a jerk, thud. The ride moves as slowly as it possibly could and goes up and up. It goes up to a certain peak and then stops for a second. Here, if the ride does not go down and goes further up, and then you come back down in an elevator, while the ride drops to the start point? Will you ever sit on it ever again? Hoping it does come to the start point without breaking down.
I won’t. Who wants to sit on a ride only to be pulled up by a chain lift? If a roller coaster does not go down, there is never going to be a spiral bend and a U-turn, not even a corkscrew. As long as the car does not go down, the ride does not start. It is not fun without a fall.
Just like our life. It started with a cry and mom and dad’s arms were are seat belts. We rose up, literally; and then we rose, in ways the society wanted us to, but you cannot just always go up. There has to be a fall. You need a drop to change the course and to start off with the fun.
You need a drop to begin the ride.
Rone de mujhe, jab roh sakta hun,
Hasle mujhpe , jab hass sakta hai,
Khamosh na reh, thoda jor se taana maar,
Me bhi sunu, tu kya bol sakta hai,
Mujhe inn gaathon ko suljane de,
Sab uljano se bhara hai,
Tu door mooch me muskurah,
Par yaad rakh, Mera waqt qayamat ki tarah hai.
.
Milon ke fasle,
Yun me chalte chale jaunga,
Salon lag jae bhale,
Me zaroor wahan jaunga,
Tu daud, tu udd,
Meri toh chalne me farah hai,
Tu paunch kar cheen le meri manzil,
Par yaad rakh, Mera waqt qayamat ki tarah hai.
.
Choti jeet ka jashan mana,
Me toh lambi daud pe nikla hun,
Tu woh bhi jeet jaa mujhse,
Me aur lambi daud ka hissah hun,
Tu jashan-pe-jashan mana,
Mene toh piya, mehnat kar tharra hai,
Tu hass aur hasa, jab me na ruka,
Par yaad rakh, Mera waqt qayamat ki tarah hai.
.
Haste hai mujhepe log,
Jab me chand se baat karta hun,
Log kya jaane woh baat karta hai mujhse,
Aur me mohobatt karta hun,
Na kar saka me kuch,
Jab mera pyaar meri bahaon me mara hai
Jab me yaad karun, toh hass mujhpe ek aur baar
Par yaad rakh, Mera waqt qayamat ki tarah hai.
.
Bahot hara hun me,
Na gina kabhi na gin-na chahta hun,
Khush hai tu, jo tu nahi hara,
Aur hass me aur zakham dikhata hun,
Na jeeta na jeet saka,
Jo haar kar kabhi dara hai,
Bhale aaj ek aur haar hai meri,
Par yaad rakh, Mera waqt qayamat ki tarah hai.
.
Aaj fir harun, toh koi gum nahi,
Aaj fir na mile manzil, toh koi gum nahi,
Chalte rehna, bas yehi mera maqsad hai,
Manzil badi ho, toh chunautiyan kum nahi,
Tu dekh aur dekhte reh,
Kaisa pura jag palat jaega,
Kyunki mera waqt qayamat ki tarah hai,
Ek din zarur aaega.
- 1
- 2