Being an Aunty to an Uncle!!

On a Sunday afternoon- when the sunlight outside is making merry, scathing the environment- an alarming thought strikes my idle mind. This came up in a conversation, when my Significant Other happily termed me as an Aunty.

No, it does not feel nice to be addressed so - when all along you are used to the roses and blushes of communication. To be promoted to seniority, is hardly a pleasure. But when did that perception change I wonder.

Tracing back to the past 'n' number of month events, I realize to whatever my better half suggests, I negate scrupulously, citing my story of lack of time." Or, it's too sunny outside," with baleful eyes vexing at the yellow sky.

Role reversal tells me how telling it is on his boyish patience. My man may have grown up to his 6.1" frame but inside him is the little boy who still wants to play in the mud with his best friend and dog all rolled into one. Inside me too, lurks the little girl, with the wild hair flying loose, waiting to chase the wind, against the sun - much against all odds. Both the little girl and little boy want to play - in the sun, amidst nature, with sweet sweat pouring down tanned backs, our hands & feet stained with the muddy marks that bring a glow to our ruddy cheeks.

But is it age or life-stage that suddenly makes me an Aunty and he gets to retain his little boy image and not be the dreaded Uncle?

Stirring my orange Rasna and making sure the ice-cubes clink against each other, I ponder to the sudden shift in our dynamics. No this is not a couple post or me trying to be a pseudo love-guru. It's  a post that will help me figure out where and how the time changed - just like the Rasna would take time to dissolve in the water for the bright orange spark - my inner turmoil must also see the light of the day.

We read posts on anti aging treatment - taking the passage of time for granted. But what are we really doing the passage of time, to make it worthwhile? Moments do not freeze over and not all memoirs can be Instagrammed - but what about the moments of purity that one must find time to revel in? Do we create time from our busy calendars to "check-in" such moments in our lives?


Technology has eradicated the tempospatial dimensions that separate us living beings from fusing together into a Pangea like Organic state. Yes, Facetime with the cousin, distant in the Amreeka is appealing - what is not are the diurnal all day long, Whatsapp pings on groups or ping pongs of emails where the peanuts scream their pea-brains out!

Technology seems to be a multi pronged attack force - unless you switch it off, it destabilizes your every anchor. And even when you switch it back on, you are bombarded with more and more and more.. of the same loop!

In the end two things get drained, the battery and the battered mind. There is loss of capacity for processing the beauty of life, living, simple moments spent with loved ones before they do not become the Late - or simply loving yourself! Mostly, we are tired, bone weary from the incessant staring at laptop or phone screens - with no time than to simply crash at the end of the day.


Is it only in India, I wonder? This slave driven template is mostly found in our land, where we work across countries and even work for those countries who may have the money but not the brain power. What a brain drain chain!!

We become Aunties and Uncles - with alopecia like tendencies and stressed Varicose Veins every where - mainly because in a day of 24 hours, we desire for 35 instead - the remaining 11 for US only!Instead we message each other - "I love you".. "I miss you!".. "I want to spend time with you only and no phones!!"

No phones?! Has it really come to that? Have we really started a new chapter of our collective consciousness where digital detox, is a desire than a must?

We live in a world of IM - where along with the faster messaging service, our response time to situations too have become increasingly shortened. Flexibility is a taken for granted ability where all of us lean out to multi-task through the trillion of tasks that surround.


Time spent on ourselves and with each other - seems like a sinful indulgence. The result is a burnt out soul - further charred by the sadistic sun.


The sun too shamelessly laps up the carbon footprint created by our willful use of technology - the more we use phones, iPads, gadgets, robots, ourselves too (we are machines, too, remember?!?!) - the more carbon emission spirals up the sun-path - fueling  Coldplay to blare while we glare - "It was all yellow..."


There was once an ad I remember, where they showed the sun sipping out the brain juices or maybe the elixir of life from a child's head - to that creative frame-work, I must contribute my humble paintbrush stroke - our very own Laptop mouse or perhaps the phone radiation - what a carcinogenic feast we expose the primal body parts to, day in and day out!

Soon we'll find a new age pornography - where man f**cks a computer- what'll we get - bipedal computers who are Robot's best friends?

Dear Moon - here we come. The ones who love to be young sans alopecia, technology and pings.

Being Human!

The title of this post comes with a lot of reflections - of the recent occurrences that only merit opening up of a can of worms. I write this in disgust and bewilderment - at the sheerness of the low levels that we all have sunk to.

The trigger is obviously the recent news reports (not Salman Khan!) where everyday the reporting hot button is the Public Display of Attitude (new age PDA?)

Daily, the breakfast news covers the horror stories of rape, molestation and the ISIS debacle. We see images and videos of the innocent being bombed, beheaded, plundered - and strangely, instead of protecting our  women, women are treated as scapegoats or the gateway to a man's possession of land.

Yes, we did have the Chengiz Khans of history who fathered a nation almost - but that was then, and this is NOW. Or, is it?

I'd been watching a beautiful tale of loss humanity - aka Chappie - where the movie beautifully illustrated how even a robot could be more compassionate and forgiving than us - fellow Homo Sapiens. Chappie began with the robot being brought to life as an experiment - only to see the power of AI over IQ / EQ. The word 'Mommy' went beyond the organic bond to transcend into the cyborg borders - where the core remained the same goals of cocooning protection - mutually exclusive.

A promise assumed a child-like purity - one to be honored till the end. It's only the twisted brain - in the spree of greed - that could manipulate the innocence every baby is born with. Chappie in fact showed the nascence of conscience - and how it spirals into a dark tunnel with the passage of years.

We are all born with a blank slate - which we should design with our own free will. Our fate depends on the homes we are born to - our Makers. But its only the layers of societal transformation that metamorphose - uh, wait the right word is decompose- to a being alien to the design we'd intended to choose for ourselves.

Chappie left me wondering at our own fate today. What we were to what we've become. The Dark Triad of Personality wields a destructive core - that dis-balances and destabilizes us from our own vantage points.

When I look at the world today, I'm awed at the HATE we all seem to have for each other? We, as a race, have lost empathy and compassion - the main qualities that had once made us humans. We have lost the feeling of love - specially in an age when the Predictive Text has helped us label it as LUV.

As a breed, we have lost our own identity - being shaped by our own beast - into beings worse than animals. Do we have a new name then for our race now? Are we still humans? What parameters can classify us into that breed - that's on the verge of extinction?

When John Lennon had written Imagine, either he must have had the foresight of the Armageddon that has struck us now - or, he must have been childishly optimistic of the human intelligence. That intelligence sadly has changed its face to its evil twin, cunning and deception - that have wrecked havoc across the world and have made Noah's Ark a Titanic sinking slowly. The iceberg is the ticking time-bomb of hate - it's a slow and active volcano that spews forth it's wrath today through multiple channels and distributaries.

Is it too late to hope for a world where we all are united and at one with each other? Is Pangea as a concept too far away from the human-scape of comprehension and acceptance?

Have we really lost all our virtues that had once set us apart - and now we only function on the 'id'?
Is it too late to let the time awaken us - only to see that the earthlings need each other - to leave a better planet for our future??

An Ode to a Marriage?

http://t.co/FDXbb1JAO1


If I were YOU
and YOU were ME

Would this world
any different be?


I would do
What you now do

How I did it
You would've no clue


You would make
Errors of mine

and I would scorn
Please do not whine


I would cook
While you lay and smile

You'd do the dishes
Till I lay a while


You would be fat
and I would be fit

Well.. I am not
Complaining about that bit


You would be calm
when I would go mad

And i would make peace
if your day has been bad


But when going gets tough
we would be WE

There'd be no you
There's be no me


Brave face we would put
For the world to see

Deep inside though
scared we would be


You would shout
No... wait ....that would be me

See how confusing
It can all be?


So better you are you
and I am me

A Perfect world
it will never be

A 28 year old woman

Writing this as mainly an influx of thoughts. Being 28 really isn't easy in a suppressed country like India.

28 is when any woman is at a center point of seeing dreams materialize to reality or crash. 28 is when love fnds a way or dies.

28 is when she feels the pinch of being a father's daughter = a liability. All look at her - awaiting the wedding bells to rind or in other words, the death knell to sound crystal clear.

The mother turns the chief enemy - her own life an enema.  All this struck when my father said - "Now I will pay for you..till you marry." So, in essence, no matter the women emancipation and la di da.. every man sees the daughter an an onus and a transferable property!

And when I look at my so-called man, I find only fear crystallizing my every breath - questions haunt, daunt  and taunt.

For a person like me, marriage does not auger well - the thought is quite constrictive.
Maybe, escape is a sweet plan - not avenging the system.

Because Indian minds are just systems and flow in line - akin to an assembly line. Each responsibility is a duty - none led by passion.

Maybe, this sort of a world isn't for a dream lover like me. Choices seem little - but the only way is away, then.

Away could also = home which further equates to a man's heart. But when the man's mind is scattered, can the heart ever be mine?!

The 28 year old woman in me, stares at all the human figures her life has thrown her way. All seem very same and quite "Chinese!"


Interestingly, monotony plays a monopoly - people are used to the monotony of love and care but have been numbed by time to passion.

Time, in this context, I must add, is quite a physical commodity. Very common. Very malleable. Yet nonetheless, a paremeter of judgment. You gauge people by time - the time they take to finish a task, the time they take to react, the time they make for others and the time of course anyone wastes.

The 28 in me, sees time as a rival - the streams seem divergent mostly. The tides of time are curiously tied!

Maybe this whole rambling had no center point - or maybe that's exactly how our mind is. 

Edie Britt!

As I start typing, emulating my best role as the Yellow Journalist, I am wonder-struck at my choice of topic today. Edie Britt! The woman, I had hardly cared about - but suddenly, see her in a new light.



Well in Desperate Housewives, she died today- raising in my nubile mind- many questions. My discourse then runs the channel of these questions.

Mostly as I see and sense from my own moral high ground- why I dislike Edie ..

1. Does not have a fixed direction in life
2. Sex appeal is haywired. Her intentions are "wrong"
3. Manipulating - or shall I say MENipulating?!
4. Cannot value bonds
5. Cannot stick to one.

But wait! As I wrote these down.. my own vox at the back of my head, started mocking me.

 First - who am I to judge her? Being judgmental, curiously gives one a mantle piece undeserved!

Second- did I just say these lines/ words? Did this just make me a femi-chauvinist (for the lack of a better word as the Dictionary has not invented any so far to sum up my feelings or angst about me being a woman and castigating another in the light stereotypical ethos).

Whoever designed labels, tags and stereotypes anyway? To follow is to be safe?

Throughout the series, Edie, has been strongly disliked by the women around. Who are these women? 

1. housewives
2. gossip mongers
3. typical moms
4. "friends"

Life as people live it is a linear process from behind the curtains till the curtains fall. In each segment of this process called life, we live behind several dimensions of masks. Each moment archetypes our character to bring out shades of us- that we best choose to suit the occasion!

Yes, our subconscious is clever. Cleverer than we credit it to be!

It plays out our roles and makes us enact in our roles- without letting us in the know that would obviously let our guards down.

Quite a genius this mind of ours is then! It plays tricks on us, fools us, yet shows us a way of life, we can never imagine!

That is well - for  most of us anyway... those of us, who choose to live an idealized life, but are thwarted by the realities to see another face of life!

While for the handful minority, like our Edie here, who dare to know the subconscious and play along than be played with. Edie knew her id. She knew her core- which let her be free. One of the few women who dared to call a spade a spade. 

She was therefore, free in her sexuality, conduct and socialization - that made her confident, brass and bold. Qualities we all secretly admire, but stay aloof and dumb on. Herd / heard mentality, you see!

There was indeed another side to Edie. The deep , thoughtful, perceptive and imaginative person. She sensed others well, was astute to read men and guide women and be there as a friend to help most. All she'd wanted was a shoulder to cry / lean on and a trusted hand to hold onto - before she poured out her heart of gold and showered one with love.

But, Edie being Edie- never got what she wanted. Instead she wandered and wondered. Her meandering ways, caught the fancy of many - who promised her the eternal sunshine but gave her the ephemeral puerility that always shattered. 

Men viewed her therefore as an object. She had not objected too. Perhaps, this was her folly. To obviate the shallow shadow she chose to leave upon as her impression. Only with Carlos, did the veil unmask itself - and it was lovely to see the real person behind the make-up, colors, light and glamour. 

As her story ran its own pages, she found herself alone and then used. 

Women like her get used easily - only because underneath all the brouhaha they are beautiful people and more humane / compassionate than any living being. 

Women like her are really strong - in character, choice, voice and stead. They demand little of what they deserve- primarily because they do not choose to the follow the herd. They live the lights of life - and look forward to the beautiful tomorrows always.. because they know they have the courage to face any phase of life independently. 

Edit Britt, comes along as a stark revelation and a mirror to one's own character. She is that dark moment of truth, that subtle turning point in your life, through her deep and incisive understanding of your own depth. She knew how to live and embody a *been there done that* outlook to life.

Women like Edie Britt deserve respect.

And as I write, she reminds me of a very much known shadow close to home!

Yangon Times

My recent trip to Yangon deserved the pen-craft that the mind's harbor could seek.
Going Far East, is perhaps a stepping stone to an MR career as you're suddenly at the threshold of a developing country.

Suddenly you're a Foreigner - regarded with suspicion and awe.

Stepping into the city, was a feeling of stepping back in time. While you have the modern cars swishing past you and you keep ogling, at the same instant you're suddenly thrown the tidbit of knowledge that cars only were sold in Myanmar since last year!

The city is a mix of old and new- a surprising contrast that seems interesting given the cultural context. A part of me felt that Myanmar was being forced to develop! Modernity, was a force-fit! Maybe that charm which could wrap the city in its bloom, would soon be "deforested" - leaving the city naked to the prying eyes of urbane cosmopolitanism.

Yes - there indeed is a thirst to be "new" - be at par with the innovation that strikes the world at large, That's mostly a thin layer - below the crust, is a sharp sign of contentment of being and living in the much familiar everydays.

Lots of Indians bespeckle the streets- amazingly they have denied all Indianness and declare themselves Burmese with a hint of pride. Come to think of it, pride runs like a subtle undercurrent in all the Burmese - they are unabashedly unapologetic - and that's the way it should be!

Maybe it's the curious mix of Buddhism with the culture that has given an edge of serenity to the place. Boasting of richness, splendor and quiet glamour, Yangon stands firm in it's tradition - looking towards modernity sweeping in, with its winds of change.

What strikes to an Indian girl walking on the streets first - is that the city is amazingly safe! In a land, mostly known for rape, she is always draped with doubt - ready to pounce on any male offender- on the tenterhooks almost! But at Yangon, there is a much gendered respect and mutual acknowledgment of co-existence that's endearing. This starts, from their traditional dress - longyis  for men and women!

In every Burmese face, you see a smile - a welcome against the slyness of the Indians. There is a heartening warmth that exudes and bring any Foreigner to its embrace.

Simplicity is a much treasured way of life - not warped against time. No-one seems to be in a hurry to be in a rat-race. In fact, Myanmar is a very functional zone when it comes to products. They like it that way - on the face and direct! :)

Bhopal

My recent experience at Bhopal has left me with many thoughts to gather and tie strings to the various loops. Travel by self, is liberating - maybe it's the effect of the rains on my face and the pluviophilic mentality at ease with the green surroundings.

Yet, out of all the snapshots, one stands out and deserves special attention. I have always been in awe of single and working mothers - and this sealed it for me.

To be added here - I do NOT understand why we stress on 'working women / working mothers' as a category - as if it's still niche here in the regressive country! Or, that kids are such cattle, that to breed, you must be bereft of any sense of purpose in life!

Anyway, the experience was of a mother traveling with me - who shared my room in one of the finest hotels I have stayed so far - and in due course reminded me of my own Mom.

Must have been the Bong connection and the fair skin - and the ready , wide and beaming smile !

The rains had spoilt the wifi connectivity - so expressions online remained rather aloof. Yet, battling the odds, sharp at 8, she rushes back to her room to receive a call on Skype.

The Bengali endearments, were at once known, delved into and much missed! That moment was a self awakening of having traveled (strayed ?!) from roots?!

The face on the other side of Skype loomed large to show a teenager - staring back at her mother. The researcher / just the very curious person in me - leaned in, as inconspicuously, closer to the phone- to hear the conversation. To my amazement, the conversation had no words - just gestures - as if it was a dumb-charade.

All I could watch in awe, were the myriad expressions that crossed the mother's face - from joy, to concern, to love to pure motherly care.

Hanging up, I could see her eyes glistening. Distance from her child, must have been one of the triggers for the lachrymal glands - but it was more to do with the purity of perseverance.

Her 15 year old daughter had lost the ability of speech due to a viral infection. Her mother had been at odds to give up her career and be a stay at home mother or keep working - which in effect would affect her to be uncaring. She chose the latter. Society could not encode her behavior - she was sure of her actions that could proclaim love and leave aside any profanity of thought / intent.

The daughter stayed with the father- for the times she traveled - and there was perfect symmetry in their relationship architecture to parachute the problem.

Harmony can come through with actions aligned to the best interests of everyone involved. Harmony cannot be achieved through suppression or compromises.

The mother had realized that if she gave up working, she would not be happy - which would bring upon negativity on the entire household. Perhaps, that would further impact her daughter's already feeble mentality. Indirectly, she must be teaching her daughter, on how to be strong too - and carry on despite malignments unnatural to dreams.

Self-liberation comes with an achievement of your own identity - in your eyes, you are still somebody with an independent image - that is distinct from what anybody thinks. Maybe that's what makes a person be seen with a perspective. Maybe that's what stirs emotions in others too. But to follow societal codes of happiness.would be leaving reigns of your own  joy in an unseen's hands - who will never see through.

Maybe, we never find, anyone who completes us - because we all are trans-migratory souls in space - all fluid and always in a juxtapose. But then, isn't self-realization and self-actualization a best possible solution for inner peace! To feel complete again - would again be shedding a pertinent part of you, to the trust, promise and presence of anothers'.

Love for oneself, must  be supreme. A child maybe a part of you - but in the end, are you happy following the child's dream or living one of your own?

Gurgaon - all that was loved and lived

Gurgaon - Faridabad Road - that set the pace for all loved and lived! - Herculean click, 2013.

Gurgaon - this had been long coming and quite inevitable in a way. The sojourn of the many curves and angles. A kaleidoscope in all phases of life.

Interestingly, a hinterland of experience, self- awareness and growth - Gurgaon, with it's many dark shades, could only serve to brighten.

Maybe, retrospection suffuse shades of Konkona Sen Sharma - in her new girl Mumbai avatar scripted for Wake Up Sid!. Mine is more of silent wonderment, at a chapter of life closed (is it?!) and cherished with care.

Gurgaon, saw the metamorphosis of reason - as the eyes, that grew older, became wiser too. Trespassing the cobwebs of security,the 'bad' image of Gurgaon had it's own inherent thrill. Journeying on the 'word / world of love' , the lane next to office for the non-car-owner, seemed at once a home and a dumping ground. Spending days seldom in the own 4 walls, the early days had been spent in the happy threesome of the man then and his best man. As all love stories unfold, the best man turned more empathetic and more brotherly while own man extremely other-ly. Days spent in explorations, wild liquor and wild sex - ideal mix for anyone right ? Maybe!

As travels picked up and the cross country hopping became a weekly way of life, distance soon created resonance with the idea of incompatibility.

The faces closer to home, seemed more 'official' and 'impersonal' as the era of work-life balance became swayed. The team-mates, chirpy - the supervisors, mentor-like, life seemed to be ambling through an upwards curve-ball- where patience had no space or luxury of virtue.

A certain 'celebration' of mind and self too, at the gym, led to a deeper love for oneself- when maybe most time, was spent in music and soaking in the steam. It was just as it should be- 24-25 with an euphoric upswing.

Eureka! The bubble did burst. And thankfully, it did, with the appalling idea of having lived in a bubble for so long.

It came with the vow to be unmoved- the determined and rigid mental declaration of shirking the bond that was seemingly just a bondage and a handicap. Marriage - quite a far-away thought, it was the utter bewilderment of the conned selection and the empty life of togetherness. Coupled with that - the 'forced physicality of times' derided the relationship off it's own essence and led to sourness. Bickerings, quickened pace of space- as each sought screens to live singularly and simply.

The pull of individuality and the push from the an amiss concurrence, led to the line of division. Looking back - the best decision ever - to nip at the bud, of a thorn that would be more than prickly.

Thereupon, the hazy life of craziness - cars and drives with many faces known and unknown. The thrill of Gurgaon had just begun. Chasing against own shadow,  it became quite an addictive way of life - to willfully lose oneself to the flow of time.

As music refreshed memories, and EDM became a way of life, 'spirited' headbanging became a norm - I came across the treasure- which I had never looked for.

It had been a known territory - from way long- only then, did it begin to feel mine. The first hand clasp, proved it true. A strange shock of senses led to the deepened gravity - of marked awareness, possession and pride. Love at the first "hi?!" :)

Since then, another phase - a roller-coaster- of emotions, colors and vows.  Broken, shattered, made and re-made. The surreal conflict of walking away and hanging on - of being / acting older or of my own age.

To the soft brown eyes, I had looked up - to find completion and my own identity. Into the deep eyes, I had looked - to see the man who had remained a boy inside - yet had always donned on roles with masks to hide the face, that seemed to reach out to me from deep within.

Primate senses or the primal emotion tugs - I'd always wished to give that boy everything he'd been denied - or letting him be free - from inside. Ever afar, I may stand - to give and never take - of time, space and all their valued essence. Still today, the beacon of selflessness- acts a directive principle of my life.

Had I grown up suddenly? I had wondered, as I never did hunger from my kind of time. Which made me wonder, how much did I wander then- in my own 'placebo effect' of what my time should be like.

Soon, then, definitions and perspectives became stronger - as I became a Nihilist almost, guarding his territory dominance. Not easy,but never uneasy!

As the moorings raged on - of storms, thunder, tears, pain, additions and subtractions, the faith proved too strong as friendship chose to be immortal.

Shrugging off negativities and all negatives hurled against him- which curiously were from his own (!!!!- quite amusingly so!!!! ) - the 2 pair of eyes, wizened- almost with compound interest as the sum total became an infinite quantum.

Yet, as the downhill journey now began - the troughs became steeper. Monotony of 10-6, became hazardous, with the same faces and same names to conquer everyday. Words curled and shouts lurched at - became a way of life. Numbness struck - as one chose silence, and others war of infamous words. Words are black magic too - they steel you , better you and make you feel the coarseness of hatred too.

Maybe the effect of words is inversely proportional to action points and expectations. More others scream, more inactive and unresponsive becomes the brain. Mute of the mutant - mutiny was a passive one!

The brother too sided by at the right time. A wall, both functioned cohesively, as all parts of the dreamer, suddenly synchronized. Lament, neither had brevity, nor could be brave. It was an escape and yet, a coincidence.

Resigned to the Jatt mentality and the snobbishness, the ultimate escape was to sunny land - and for the other a breezy elevation.

Distance, still serves completion - the holy grail of a single unit as two souls became fused, Dreams spun and weaved in somnolence, trigger a solace at the much loved vox heard over changed numbers.

Gurgaon - never can die. It may live and be a chapter re-visited often - when flying too high or when too low.

And all the while, we spotted clouds, moon and stars along the Gurgaon - Faridabad road - we'd known peace that for aspirants remains only a piece of their gory imagination. May cover pictures, suffice for them! Or, maybe emulating steps to places already visited and album memoirs, with their 'new' significant others - to perhaps claim some more of the place tags!

AN OPEN LETTER TO QMS, KOLKATA (SALT LAKE BRANCH)

Dear QMS Kolkata,

Applause be given to the meritorious excellence displayed time and again by the Board results. Doubtless, the school remains aspirational - in terms of duty and discipline.

Astoundingly, it fails to be inspirational- where specially and specifically, the finer qualities of life are considered. More than an educational harbinger (of change??), it appears heartless and extremely commercialized in approach - mainly to it's own. It finds it easy therefore, to lay aside the many dreams of one of it's brightest pupils - with the cold words minced boldly - "Too bad! Please don't apply again!". Her fault - scoring just a few marks shy of 90% and therefore not being re-admitted to her own Alma Mater (which actually should be an automatic process!!!).

I wonder, then, what does education presuppose - if not the self-actualization of a human being from the basics & roots? What are schools today then- just a money minting machine of the powerful few ? How inconsiderate can it be to the dreams of a beautiful 16 year old girl ?
And lastly, HOW UNEDUCATED IS THE CURRENT PRINCIPLE OF QMS, KOLKATA, SALT LAKE BRANCH?

"Kind" regards,
Averee !

Strong, London Grammar

I have seldom been moved- and moved this much. Few things touch me in their essence- but have I found something, I can worship?

This is just a tribute, if not a review of a new song- which, by the way, has been on loop for an hour almost.

The temptress is 'Strong' by a new band I have started to chase - 'London Grammar'.

The song is liquid poetry set to motion - to turn the wheels of your heart. It makes you FEEL, THINK and cower in front of your own powers. Before more decoding or deductions- hear the song- let it shake you up too. The vox, that beats an Adele anyday- makes you weep like a baby- as it pushes you far past the edge of reasoning.

First time, I chanced upon it, I was rooted to the spot. Mesmerized is too mild a word to describe the pathos. The sheer melancholy was Hamlet-ic while the ponderous voice meandered to tug willfully at your tender heartstrings.

Apocalyptic, the song wrecked the listener unapologetically. On an impulse, I shared it with a certain heartless friend of mine- to gauge the effect.

Profound, he stood- shocked. The song can break walls too !

On loop- it's a catharsis. A release of all emotions pent up- which you have stored for months on end.

It throws questions at you, daring you to rise up and answer. Questions, are a challenge - to humanity? Or is a route to find some truth in your soul- when all you're doing is RUNNING? Running away from all that you endear or endure.

Is Live Strong, just a wrist band or does it inspire? Is life, through all it's conspiracy, showing it's own light? Which side-tracks me to another off-hand thought - why is 'magical' connoted in a positive note while 'conjuring' so negative?

Ah! Never mind, that.

"Excuse me for a while
While I'm wide eyed
And I'm so down caught in the middle..."

Does it call out to the child in you that puddles at the brink of adulthood. How many times, have you reduced yourself to a puddle? Are you a wuss, then?

Strength of mind, body and spirit- is all a facade, then. We all unite, in the spirit of humanity, in our sorrows. Jam in the un-stuck and un-done moments.

"Yeah I might seem so strong,
Yeah I might speak so long,
I've never been so wrong..."

Is humanity, itself a bondage? We all live by images- turn a blind eye to flaws- but aren't flaws what make us, so strong?

Where's the touch of charisma, in us, when we interact? Is it the smile or the gleam in the eye?

But do we have the courage to search for what lies behind the twinkling eyes? Do we want to know the weaker side of the story, as well? Are WE strong enough to deal with that?

"And if a lion roars, would you not listen?
And if a child cries, would you not forgive them?"

The rising octaves, collide head-on, with the two extremes of emotions. At two tangents, we are weak and strong at the same time. We address the 3 states of being in the same breath.

Do we pay heed to what lies behind the ire? Do we LISTEN to someone, or just fall prey to the facade of 'strong'?

Are we strong to love purity? Does it touch us or are we scared that it might break us?

Are, we, the most emotional of all animals, scared of our own emotions? We stop to listen and to care- but believe in everyone being strong- because that prevents an information overload.

Sharing and being SKIN with someone is just that - information overload. Strange age, we live in!

And the tears roll on .... Catharsis, feels euphoric. The feeling I have wished for- running for miles at an end and collapsing in your own pool of tears- yet smiling through it, as you have then found yourself. You have blossomed again!