tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10725685560442423652024-02-20T10:19:03.870+05:30Dreams and Dimensions !!Jyotsna Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12201588215531490861noreply@blogger.comBlogger273125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1072568556044242365.post-12563518294464910902020-04-05T02:12:00.000+05:302020-04-05T02:12:21.110+05:30NaPoWriMo Day 5 - Home<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I
own homes, way too many<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">To
remember each one of their addresses<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">In
their articulate spaces<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">And
yet I know, every single nook <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">every
single lane, every other crook<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I
run my fingers along their edges<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Nourishing
myself, pouring them into me<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I
learn, I breathe, I bloom<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Cherishing
every stay<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I
return in happiness and in gloom<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">They
hold me, they cherish me<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Make
me feel one of them own<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I
am taken to travel, I am taken to meet <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">People
so many<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Humanity,
human psyche<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Black,
white, grey and everything in between <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Emotions,
unnamed, understated, unknown<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I
have known from these <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I
live amidst all the books I have read<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">In
their pages<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Lurking
between their spaces<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">They
have my heart, they have my head<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">No
matter what <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I
wouldn’t trade this home for anything ever instead<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/u/1/null" name="_Hlk36938281"><span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif;"># Writing for NaPoWriMo attempting to everyday
for the month of April. Combining this with prompts from </span></a><a href="https://www.thealiporepost.com/" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif;">The Alipore
Post</span></a><span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Jyotsna Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12201588215531490861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1072568556044242365.post-57422571469960056812020-04-05T00:47:00.000+05:302020-04-05T00:47:44.399+05:30NaPoWriMo Day 4 - Unsolved<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">in that irritated tone
for no reason<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">in that everlasting
smile <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">in every season<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">the anger that piqued
without your permission<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">in those excuses given
for canceling plans<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">in the fear of being
uncomfortable amidst new<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">and yet, in the
inability to say ‘no’ to even a few<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">in that obsessive
gulping on books and booze<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">and even in the
smugness that you choose<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">in judging your own
actions<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">and denying self-care<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">hinging your identity
to people <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">who are hardly there<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">living with the feeling
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">that you always belong
else somewhere<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">in feeling like a
walking apology <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">balancing everything on
eggshells<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">being somebody to whom
everything overwhelms<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">in lashing out<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">when you actually need
help<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">in the muffled cries<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">when on paper they are dealt<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">in being afraid to make
mistakes<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">the unending feeling of
everything <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">being always at stake<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">it hides itself<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">festering from inside<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">unprecedented, unmoving
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">visible, yet invisible<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">this unsolved, unknown
trauma<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br clear="all" style="mso-special-character: line-break; page-break-before: always;" />
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/u/1/null" name="_Hlk36938281"><span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif;"># Writing for NaPoWriMo attempting to everyday
for the month of April. Combining this with prompts from </span></a><a href="https://www.thealiporepost.com/" target="_blank"><span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk36938281;"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif;">The Alipore
Post</span></span></a><span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk36938281;"><span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif;"> <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<br /></div>
Jyotsna Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12201588215531490861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1072568556044242365.post-33320357585401784182020-04-05T00:08:00.001+05:302020-04-05T00:08:15.057+05:30NaPoWriMo Day 3 - Distance <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">the distance between us<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">can be measured in
meters<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">but, the distance
between us <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">cannot be measured<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif;">#
Writing for NaPoWriMo attempting to everyday for the month of April. Combining
this with prompts from </span><a href="https://www.thealiporepost.com/" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif;">The Alipore
Post</span></a><span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif;"> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br /></div>
Jyotsna Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12201588215531490861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1072568556044242365.post-23198740063381910152020-04-02T16:54:00.000+05:302020-04-02T16:54:21.651+05:30NaPoWriMo Day 2 - Patterns<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">lines, dots and crosses,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">some twisted, some turned<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">a few straight, others overturned<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">molding gradually into soft designs<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">they must fit tightly into their confines<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDTvL2WV_HtNolh3aivVzgyjHnPh5P1_gd63wOLAaQPJ6ptUeAK39KuTJsUWiVHAriltNb7ydlNy-dthzSeWVTVlrF6IiHKllsb_AejkYA92uFvFwJG5OHF-B4MpIkkTo3ozIggTbEKeTL/s1600/mandala.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="719" data-original-width="720" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDTvL2WV_HtNolh3aivVzgyjHnPh5P1_gd63wOLAaQPJ6ptUeAK39KuTJsUWiVHAriltNb7ydlNy-dthzSeWVTVlrF6IiHKllsb_AejkYA92uFvFwJG5OHF-B4MpIkkTo3ozIggTbEKeTL/s320/mandala.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">it holds you, beholds you<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">captures and enslaves <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">in its beauty, in its calmness<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">in symmetry and finesse <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">control your hands<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">and patient your mind<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">only then you will understand<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">that a Mandala is <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">not just some pattern and design<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif;">#
Writing for NaPoWriMo attempting to everyday for the month of April. Combining
this with prompts from </span><span style="font-size: 8.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; line-height: 200%; orphans: 2; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"><a href="https://www.thealiporepost.com/" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;" target="_blank">The
Alipore Post</a>. I have suddenly become fascinated towards learning to draw a Mandala and this post talks about just that. </span></span><span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; float: none; font-variant-caps: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; orphans: 2; text-decoration-color: initial; text-decoration-style: initial; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Jyotsna Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12201588215531490861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1072568556044242365.post-22838637312090762202020-04-02T01:32:00.001+05:302020-04-02T01:32:50.183+05:30NaPoWriMo Day 1 - Gentle<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 14pt;">They say it hits you
like lightening, sweeps you off your feet and makes you walk on moonbeams.</span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">The books told me it
would make you hear violins in the sky, fill your stomach with
butterflies and make your heart flutter with bittersweet anxiety every night. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">The movies showed
that I would get lost all the time, smile unknowingly at strangers
and burst into dance sequences in the middle of a railway stations. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I thought it
would make me lose my sense of time, fill me up with candyfloss giddiness
and let me dream with eyes wide open. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">All it did was take off some invisible burden from my drooping shoulders, joining them
with his own and showed me togetherness in everything. Who said love couldn't
be gentle in its arrival?</span><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvJUJH2n-MGl_n6yminJimcvRuvFZNph9Z7X9Jkay1w4qZyKtXE9b0tH86373d_0vPBiQ1PSP3QXtk4ufo-BaKQ1FmInFYi_Bwuw94BS0hn9Tv4TEVJH3KTtj5SjAqvTdye-JS4qv7yt1P/s1600/IMG_20200402_005338_993.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvJUJH2n-MGl_n6yminJimcvRuvFZNph9Z7X9Jkay1w4qZyKtXE9b0tH86373d_0vPBiQ1PSP3QXtk4ufo-BaKQ1FmInFYi_Bwuw94BS0hn9Tv4TEVJH3KTtj5SjAqvTdye-JS4qv7yt1P/s200/IMG_20200402_005338_993.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif;">#
Writing for NaPoWriMo attempting to everyday for the month of April. Combining
this with prompts from </span><span style="font-size: 8.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><a href="https://www.thealiporepost.com/" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The
Alipore Post</span></a></span><span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Jyotsna Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12201588215531490861noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1072568556044242365.post-75729921802196538942020-02-21T21:07:00.000+05:302020-02-21T21:08:04.617+05:30You know this person's story<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I saw this image on instagram some
months ago and my perspective towards individuals changed. I stopped myself in
the middle of every conversation I was having in my mind about any person
or situation and said just this one line to myself. – “You don't know his/her
story. Why judge. Who knows what is making them do what they are doing or the
way they are.” And that stopped every judgmental thought that came to my mind. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Although, my behaviour never reflects
my thoughts for the person or situation, like everyone else, I have erred many
times. I still do. But now, I catch my thought process and stop my thoughts in
the bud about people, about situations. It is exhilarating in some ways, seeing
yourself free away from the clutches of your ‘sometimes’ judgmental self. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuH-3ggE6fvUvHJtUNTmv9Jhk2cju1RQqUu_Y0LLnWJM4agE7EO-YSpxNe30yNlQDDYEbbZZDKPTF5uUS4wlFqBEKOJAXMsRsARESevH05dgOWvEtRGlR55tj1300ikS-s74wmzxJ8kY9C/s1600/story11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="873" data-original-width="835" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuH-3ggE6fvUvHJtUNTmv9Jhk2cju1RQqUu_Y0LLnWJM4agE7EO-YSpxNe30yNlQDDYEbbZZDKPTF5uUS4wlFqBEKOJAXMsRsARESevH05dgOWvEtRGlR55tj1300ikS-s74wmzxJ8kY9C/s320/story11.jpg" width="306" /></a><span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">But there is one person I cannot spare
judgement on. There in one person who I judge the harshest, who I question the
most, who I criticize the worst. I don't cut this person any slack, any time.
Although, I know, I shouldn't. Although I know this person gets affected the
most by my words and yet, yet I do not relent. I do not give up any opportunity
for being anything but cruel to this person. And guess what, I know this
person's entire story. I know the circumstances, the weaknesses, the struggle,
the effort and yet I am hard. And these talks of 'Stop it, you actually know
this person's story' do not work. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">And after I am done, what remains is an
ashen bitterness in my mouth that rises from the gut and thoughts that feel
toxic, as if they are covering my entire body. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">That person is ME. And all the pages
about self-love, quotes about not being hard on yourself, posts saying that you
are doing good today - do not work. They just don't. </span><span style="font-family: "bookman old style", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><b>Out of all the love I have inside me
for all the people I love in this world, I cannot spare any for this
person.</b> </span></div>
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Jyotsna Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12201588215531490861noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1072568556044242365.post-8844339569283630622020-01-13T20:26:00.000+05:302020-01-13T20:26:03.438+05:30Things I want to feel again<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<ol style="text-align: left;">
<li><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Breathlessness after a good workout</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">The soreness of my eyes after a night spent reading,
unaware of the clock </span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">The joy of tasting what I have cooked and it turning to be
absolutely the way I had wanted it to be</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">The audacity to go anywhere without carrying any
medication</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">The smell of<i> parijat f</i>lowers blooming in my
backyard</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">The glow in my eyes after writing my heart out</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">The wind on my face staring at the horizon,sitting in my balcony,
tea in my hands, made just the way I like it</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">The jitters in my body on your touch, the flutter of my
heart every time I saw you smile, the softness of my hands in yours and the
warmth of the browns of your eyes on my skin</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Listening to my favourite songs and feeling the rhythm
inside me</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;">Hope</span></li>
</ol>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh9EgdsAAS9j4eXisG4H7nY7GX1a9vAa3qkZFz2Q2oVefbVDhwiOLPkxqn9X2HI7iP9bYaD30waKRqVkI9WGMEteNlHyk94hM0hWMCnqtyy5LDnc7RXS0Ol1KRRk06Ix20SzPIupuNrCeh/s1600/20190419_155140.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh9EgdsAAS9j4eXisG4H7nY7GX1a9vAa3qkZFz2Q2oVefbVDhwiOLPkxqn9X2HI7iP9bYaD30waKRqVkI9WGMEteNlHyk94hM0hWMCnqtyy5LDnc7RXS0Ol1KRRk06Ix20SzPIupuNrCeh/s320/20190419_155140.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Pic source: Me</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Jyotsna Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12201588215531490861noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1072568556044242365.post-36114893482036180182019-05-13T21:54:00.001+05:302019-05-13T22:26:47.866+05:30'When Breath Becomes Air' by Paul Kalanithi - Book review<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">There
are books that break your heart. And then there are books that create a hole in
your chest so deep that it may take a long time to get repaired. These are the
books that touch the nerves inside you that hurt the most, strip you of all the
faux coping mechanisms under which you have covered yourself and then leave you
out in the cold letting those nerves hurt, and hurt hard.</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhncPOw0cviu0pRmIrjzLbr_h8jWef7mHjhcZICWZ5hksVF6gVmX7eHilxyYJDzWCBbHpMBzcbim15vwd_-pB64uCLbPYqj99ndJXlOdMx227ZhtztIRaSGDCOBbQYAX3pQred4PQqIrzLX/s1600/WBBA%2521.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhncPOw0cviu0pRmIrjzLbr_h8jWef7mHjhcZICWZ5hksVF6gVmX7eHilxyYJDzWCBbHpMBzcbim15vwd_-pB64uCLbPYqj99ndJXlOdMx227ZhtztIRaSGDCOBbQYAX3pQred4PQqIrzLX/s400/WBBA%2521.jpg" width="300" /></a><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Paul Kalanithi's 'When
Breath Becomes Air' is one such book for me. The book though started on a bleak
note with a long foreword and a lot of details about Paul's education, his
words started touching those raw nerves when he talks about his journey, first
as a medical student, then as a doctor and later as a patient.</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">'When Breath Becomes Air'
talks about mortality and life in the rawest words possible. Paul's confessions
as a doctor, sympathy towards his patients, the urge to understand the
patient-doctor relationship that is laced with limitations and exhilaration
both, his responsibility as a neurosurgeon and his quest to understand life and
death make you adore him for the person and the doctor that he was. The only
thought crosses your mind at this point is 'If only. If only all the doctors in
today's times were like him. </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">And then starts the
narrative of his own journey as a cancer patient at the age of thirty six when
life was looking more promising than ever. But as they say, life is what
happens to you when you are busy making other plans. During his suffering as a
patient, he keeps going back to thinking about the times when the roles were
reverse. </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">All through the book, you
can feel the urgency. The urgency to tell so many things, the urgency to pour
everything out, the urgency of time - the most limited resource he had. The
book tears you up with a epilogue written by his wife. The details she captured
about his death, about her climbing into the bed with him one last time when he
was about to let go is heart wrenching. </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">I don't know if this book
tore me apart because I have a history of losing someone too close to this
disease seventeen years ago. And it still hurts the same. But then it is said
that when something comes straight from the heart, it hits hard. And a dying
man's words couldn't have come from anywhere else. </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">This book goes
undoubtedly to my list of most loved books. Go read. And get your heart broken
a little bit. </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Quoting a few lines that
I loved from the book. </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<i><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“All of medicine, not
just cadaver dissection, trespasses into sacred spheres. Doctors invade the
body in every way imaginable. They see people at their most vulnerable, their
most scared, their most private. They escort them into the worlds and then back
out. Seeing the body as a matter and mechanism is the flip side to easing the
most profound human suffering”.</span></i><span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><i><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“</span><span style="color: #282828; font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; letter-spacing: 0.15pt;">Learning to judge whose lives could be
saved, whose couldn’t be, and whose shouldn’t be requires an
unattainable prognostic ability.” </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"> </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="color: #282828; font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; letter-spacing: 0.15pt;">“When
there’s no space for the scalpel, words are the surgeon’s only tool.”</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<i><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">"If the weight of
mortality doesn't grow lighter, does it at least grow familiar?”</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24.0pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
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<i><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Part of the cruelty of
cancer, though, is not only that it limits your time; it also limits your
energy, vastly reducing the amount you can squeeze into a day”</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<br /></div>
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<i><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">“Death may be a onetime
event, but living with terminal illness is a process”</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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Jyotsna Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12201588215531490861noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1072568556044242365.post-82297020208957006372019-04-02T18:18:00.000+05:302019-04-02T18:18:02.788+05:30Tonight is imperfect !<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-size: 9.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Tonight is
imperfect. The air is hanging around me, too full with longing and despair. The
longing is so harsh, so hard; it has created holes in the night sky and is
melting the moon. The moon drips, drop by drop like yellow salted butter. Over
plants with white buds and trees with yellow leaves. The trees are my friends.
They will not give away my secret. They hide my despair between their thick
branches and yellow leaves. The flowers are traitors. They always have been.
They sometimes convey feelings that the giver hasn't put inside them.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2O7oqp5k8YDNXLkyW4YgRqgova6JzlOynlSMWyhj55S8isaQ-AmnUerDejRKLB-NcE3npq_kVBLmdS1QI1ZEx0AdKcx_tewjJUE9kVzQfCy31soaj8DIc3jkrjPGecB4hpVVu6kY01lqW/s1600/tonight.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2O7oqp5k8YDNXLkyW4YgRqgova6JzlOynlSMWyhj55S8isaQ-AmnUerDejRKLB-NcE3npq_kVBLmdS1QI1ZEx0AdKcx_tewjJUE9kVzQfCy31soaj8DIc3jkrjPGecB4hpVVu6kY01lqW/s200/tonight.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
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<span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-size: 9.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The traitors
will bloom tomorrow. Not white. But Yellow. They will bloom yellow, fragrant
with my despair. Everyone will then know I have been radiating sadness,
creating holes in the sky and melting the moon. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-size: 9.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Tomorrow I will have to eat
those traitors. They will taste of salt and unnamed emotions. Maybe then I
would reek. But not of despair, not of sadness. I would reek of 'distance from
you.'<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Jyotsna Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12201588215531490861noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1072568556044242365.post-71692522890087206432019-03-06T18:37:00.002+05:302019-03-06T18:39:18.453+05:30Different yet alike or Alike yet different <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">He was a part of
them, and yet not one of them. He looked like them in appearance but not in the
mind. He appeared to be on their side, and yet always followed his own path. He
was the youngest in the group, yet mature in his thoughts. He was like that as
long as he could remember. </span><span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">At seven, when other young boys in
the group bathed in the river and played on its banks, he dreamed about sitting
with his mother and listening to her songs. At nine, when other boys in class
got into fist fights, he talked to his sister. At fourteen, when others talked
about girls in deriding manner, he told them stories about brave queens and
goddesses that he had heard from his mother. At eighteen, when other boys
mistreated their wives, he stayed mum about the way he treated his own. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">He didn't mistreat his wife. But
neither did he treat her any special in public. He was educated. But not so
much to be able to avoid the social stigma of being called a henpecked husband
surrounded by illiterate people he called society. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Day 3 - Picture prompt</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkD4gx-f3_IzNLVqz6lf5DMPRWhAYru0azaB11fLuy3c5B63PbwQS34N4d7DqcEbKMyndSZBQbCoi3FpBWd8837N34K-pChyphenhyphenHeKOwcpxH9tEpii0m1Ix34DhA0RaHfUZerFw1gTzgwoUQj/s1600/pexels-photo-1437587.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkD4gx-f3_IzNLVqz6lf5DMPRWhAYru0azaB11fLuy3c5B63PbwQS34N4d7DqcEbKMyndSZBQbCoi3FpBWd8837N34K-pChyphenhyphenHeKOwcpxH9tEpii0m1Ix34DhA0RaHfUZerFw1gTzgwoUQj/s320/pexels-photo-1437587.jpeg" width="212" /></a></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">‘I’m Writing Bravely
for the </span><span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="background: white; color: #e06666;"><a href="https://www.writetribe.com/what-sounds-do-you-write-to/" target="_blank">Write Tribe</a></span></span><span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> Festival of Words – March 2019’</span><span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYgT5XEG1Uyk1ceEzP6UxnvTZRSzRHnq0Wt5vuOm-_S4muGcxBd-2w-8ZvHfDB11vcr78UNiYSdDiZ3X-gOB-bxy6XmPqGFyXb3n5Lh5QTKtcCiSXAxN0AnNdllpwwnpdojsg824xEDdC7/s1600/Im-participating-in-the-Write-Tribe-Festival-300x300.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="300" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYgT5XEG1Uyk1ceEzP6UxnvTZRSzRHnq0Wt5vuOm-_S4muGcxBd-2w-8ZvHfDB11vcr78UNiYSdDiZ3X-gOB-bxy6XmPqGFyXb3n5Lh5QTKtcCiSXAxN0AnNdllpwwnpdojsg824xEDdC7/s200/Im-participating-in-the-Write-Tribe-Festival-300x300.png" width="200" /></a></div>
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Jyotsna Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12201588215531490861noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1072568556044242365.post-5505765065428036562019-03-05T23:21:00.000+05:302019-03-06T17:31:24.357+05:30World upside down<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "dubai light" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I remember that day clearly. The day my world went
upside down. It was around 8 in the evening. Sunaina, my wife was on her way
back home. She had been a little late from office due to March coming to a
close. The weather was getting hotter. Slowly, the weather Gods would be
increasing their wrath, as if testing people’s patience or punishing them for
their past life’s crimes. I had reached home on time and served myself a couple
of glasses of fresh lime juice. The sugary sweet taste of fresh lime juice was a
perfect anecdote for the weather. Meanwhile, waiting for my wife, I had cut
vegetables and soaked rice. Tonight, we had planned on having biryani. I loved devouring
my wife’s biryani. Not just <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">biryani</i>,
I loved everything she cooked. My stomach churned a little and I helped myself
to a few pieces of cake she had baked a couple of days ago. I left last two pieces as post dinner
dessert. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "dubai light" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Little did I know my world was about to go upside
down in a few minutes. Little did I know that I wouldn’t be able to have my
last piece of cake. Little did I
know that I would not be able to have my wife’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">biryani</i> that day. Little did I know that my wife would come home
with a doctor’s report making me a diabetic and snatching me away from the true
love of my life – sweets. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "dubai light" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">Day 2 - Picture prompt</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "dubai light" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzOr6N5PA92KUbRDardgg4MXla4YsG8I4YbimqNZD3DisLD6831pIR3nauvNvc6Pzr3OLVGVyw1lLzqsJDeozJURkyF24AxFDvkLR1gDmi-wsbZxGo3xd05KrG26978kBjORqWMPtgaqy6/s1600/day+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1024" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzOr6N5PA92KUbRDardgg4MXla4YsG8I4YbimqNZD3DisLD6831pIR3nauvNvc6Pzr3OLVGVyw1lLzqsJDeozJURkyF24AxFDvkLR1gDmi-wsbZxGo3xd05KrG26978kBjORqWMPtgaqy6/s200/day+2.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "dubai light" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="color: #222222;">‘I’m Writing Bravely for the </span><a href="https://writetribe.com/focus-writing-4-easy-steps-follow/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #e06666;">Write Tribe</span></a><span style="color: #222222;"> Festival of Words – March 2019’</span></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "dubai light" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Jyotsna Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12201588215531490861noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1072568556044242365.post-74306482243153504542019-03-04T19:54:00.003+05:302019-03-06T12:18:40.636+05:30The colour of everything I knew<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "dubai light" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The first thing I noticed about you and fell for, it was the colour of
your eyes. When we were on the dance floor, it was the colour of my twirling
dress. When you held my hand for the first time, it was the colour of the chandelier
in the restaurant. When you made me laugh lifting my spirits from its dungeons, it
was the colour I saw fading from my mood. When time stopped by as we
intertwined our lips, it was the colour of the sky and promises of a happy
future. When you took my breath away asking me to marry you, it was the colour
of the ocean below us and its reflection in my tears. </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "dubai light" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "dubai light" , sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">After our first misunderstanding, because you thought I was lying to
you, it was the colour of my bruises. As I sat for days and nights crying, it
was the colour of the door I pleaded into. While you abused my body night after
night, it was the colour of my numbness. When you asked me to cook for you over a
call with a voice full of kindness, it was the last colour I saw when I
switched on the stove. </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "dubai light" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "dubai light" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "dubai light" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 32px;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "dubai light" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Day 1 : Picture prompt</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1mGiRe4-RFjYxu86AV-0Ogs-Uim5_p6OdpL_rVibjzp9koEwp1Z2mNIJCMYJx7YcEIrcyRYLxf3D1JIbSY3u4oIBi9IMmnJRZyUFfPsfX7qMmFdbMDNAK68gxJ58MIvHHOXX7KCPyiFJj/s1600/Day+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1mGiRe4-RFjYxu86AV-0Ogs-Uim5_p6OdpL_rVibjzp9koEwp1Z2mNIJCMYJx7YcEIrcyRYLxf3D1JIbSY3u4oIBi9IMmnJRZyUFfPsfX7qMmFdbMDNAK68gxJ58MIvHHOXX7KCPyiFJj/s320/Day+1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "dubai light" , sans-serif; line-height: 200%;"><span style="color: #222222;">‘I’m Writing Bravely for the </span><a href="https://writetribe.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: orange;">Write Tribe</span> </a><span style="color: #222222;">Festival of Words – March 2019’</span></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: "dubai light" , sans-serif; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "dubai light" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqYKJ-h-3f3gSWPDmxSSWEW1bU2JcPjGK0ge0Z8_JvlDsGqd-DUc0QDp6YvtQ7v7mOEy2ILaTCIUd_P8-sIANmiz9thmXcfQIePEbM87ZV24LwdzdrrhdhSZMDrVna6W_Z-sYTClmtdPJs/s1600/WT.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="300" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqYKJ-h-3f3gSWPDmxSSWEW1bU2JcPjGK0ge0Z8_JvlDsGqd-DUc0QDp6YvtQ7v7mOEy2ILaTCIUd_P8-sIANmiz9thmXcfQIePEbM87ZV24LwdzdrrhdhSZMDrVna6W_Z-sYTClmtdPJs/s200/WT.png" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "dubai light" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Jyotsna Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12201588215531490861noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1072568556044242365.post-52445522140971329492019-02-21T10:32:00.000+05:302019-02-21T10:32:32.852+05:30Nothing but fumes<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY7cxpkEQy1RaHwyiprZ3odkE7wBQXywrhJgTl7XLdU36cNQthmBDLbx3mtlF1YHxnBPEJkJsc1zyBmEmWZMNPKpt9SG6NUnYYbN8_rb1BxSmLD_OF39ZPnNPXH6NSb07xlPMe1zPATRch/s1600/nothing+but+fumes.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1303" data-original-width="1080" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY7cxpkEQy1RaHwyiprZ3odkE7wBQXywrhJgTl7XLdU36cNQthmBDLbx3mtlF1YHxnBPEJkJsc1zyBmEmWZMNPKpt9SG6NUnYYbN8_rb1BxSmLD_OF39ZPnNPXH6NSb07xlPMe1zPATRch/s200/nothing+but+fumes.png" width="165" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="background: white; color: #222222; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Sometimes,
words are born from the crack in your heart as minor as an hairline fracture,
take up space in veins alongside blood forming clots in between and get caught
in the lump of your throat choking your voice. </span><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 13.5pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Because you cannot
say them out aloud. Because saying them aloud would mean setting your world
ablaze. Creating a pyre with the same hands with which you have nurtured
happiness, one day at a time, using your spit as fuel and lighting the fire
with your tongue. You are still sane enough to not do that. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You thus let it
bite you in the pit of your stomach. You let the carcasses of your words burn
in the same crack in your heart where they were born. You let them rot inside
the whole of you. The stench and burden of these words will then come out of
your mouth as nothing but fumes. Visible yet invisible. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Jyotsna Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12201588215531490861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1072568556044242365.post-36047427259648318772018-10-26T00:02:00.000+05:302019-03-06T12:22:53.534+05:30How does your body treat you?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Do you ever feel betrayed by your body? Does your
body ever disgust you? Or does your body ever scare you? Does it make you
livid? Mine does. And I am not talking about all this in terms of the way your
body looks, but about the way your body makes you feel.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Does it treat you like a jealous and a possessive
lover that is insecure all the time? The one that keeps throwing tantrums to
get your attention and keep your attention. Does it treat you like a stubborn
old grandfather who refuses to accept anything new? The one who thinks that any
deviation from its own thinking is incorrect? Does it treat you like a cruel
step mother who wouldn’t let go off any instance to give you pain and
discomfort? The one who thinks that being at rest or peace is not your right. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Mine does. All of the above. My own body makes me feel betrayed,
disgusted, scared and angry at the same time. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I feel betrayed and disgusted because I didn’t sign
up for a body that is weak all the time? In spite of treating it with utmost
respect, in spite of trying everything possible to make it feel healthier, it changes only for worse. It betrays me for all the efforts I put towards
making it healthier. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I am scared of my body, of trying anything with my
body. Be it a new food item, a different sleeping pattern, a new cosmetic
product or a mere different workout style. Because it retaliates. As bad as a
teenager high on drugs. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">It angers me to see other people healthy even
when they abuse their bodies so much. Whereas I have been treating it with a caution of a new father holding his child for the first time. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; tab-stops: 238.5pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; tab-stops: 238.5pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">And yet. It behaves the way it wants to behave.<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I can sometimes hear my body talk to me. Like a
person. A person who is not an ally. A person sitting across the table
scrutinizing and scorning everything I do. Keeping notes for times when it can
mock me, smirk at me and take its revenge. I can hear it saying something like,
‘Ahan, so you want to pull a late nighter watching a show on Netflix. Just wait
and watch how I make your head explode tomorrow morning’. Or may be something
like this, ‘So you think you will be able to get away with eating outside food
two days in a row, let me show you the consequences. I am not accepting this
food.’ <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">My relationship with my body feels like an unrequited
love affair. An affair where I give. And only give. Attention. Care. And
medicines. To get nothing in return except being bruised, broken and in nagging
pain all the time. Being on medicines for one thing or the other.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Do you know how much amount of time, energy and mental
space your own body occupies in case it treats you like mine does? Immense. When
I sit and reminisce, it fills me up with regret. Regret of things I could have
done if keeping my body in a healthy working condition didn’t occupy so much of
my mental space. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">So, if yours is treating you well, be grateful. And
work towards keeping it that way. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsDsWQ86C4DZSsh7bfaL2oB5BVZ24cOdsE-d1suFhASmIPDLf0g5D1izfF1hQKiRoRgoho5LOtTr5S5h82iCDE0glBkIMZlOl4m32MLz_W7N6iAhTwuomkH4EhaWBxtr8dIH6cYdeqN_Mr/s1600/body+treatment.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsDsWQ86C4DZSsh7bfaL2oB5BVZ24cOdsE-d1suFhASmIPDLf0g5D1izfF1hQKiRoRgoho5LOtTr5S5h82iCDE0glBkIMZlOl4m32MLz_W7N6iAhTwuomkH4EhaWBxtr8dIH6cYdeqN_Mr/s200/body+treatment.png" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Source: Google images</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">PS – I am not sick due to any terminal illness. I am
just not healthy enough to live without medicines. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br /></div>
</div>
Jyotsna Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12201588215531490861noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1072568556044242365.post-44848644392872518052018-03-19T13:26:00.000+05:302018-03-19T13:26:30.906+05:30Every time you leave<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Every
time you leave<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">I
start counting backwards<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Holding
my breath<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">And
your memories<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">For
the time when I will again<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Hold
you in my eyes<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">And
be held in your arms<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Every
time you leave<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">I
get engulfed<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">In
an arid sadness<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">And
dizzying loneliness<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">That
only gets cured<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">After
getting inked </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">With your smoky lips<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">And
warm embrace<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Because
whenever you leave<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">You
take a part of me<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Leaving
your bits<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl1-bW5h6MHfLJr9Uy1Zbf1E50yoxlLS0SBiem0RHGwlNaATUdUCzv2zPPkwvktnP3fxHdpE4GkvOw0JyunYRpO9NTLja7cD-_t1WUuFVDw2IYIDUv8c1iurwCzQATq6khVHn7Sr3vDHdS/s1600/every+time+you+leave.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="168" data-original-width="300" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl1-bW5h6MHfLJr9Uy1Zbf1E50yoxlLS0SBiem0RHGwlNaATUdUCzv2zPPkwvktnP3fxHdpE4GkvOw0JyunYRpO9NTLja7cD-_t1WUuFVDw2IYIDUv8c1iurwCzQATq6khVHn7Sr3vDHdS/s200/every+time+you+leave.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">And
slow and gradual<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">I
am <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Not
me anymore<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">But
a reflection <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Of
nothing<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">But
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">You.
<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br /></div>
Jyotsna Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12201588215531490861noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1072568556044242365.post-91522000306717102082018-03-11T11:05:00.001+05:302018-03-11T11:23:43.972+05:30Careful<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 250%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 250%;">If there is one word that defines my state
of mind since a long long time, it would be ‘careful’. That’s what I am these
days. All the time. All day. All night. Whether at work or at home. I am
careful. It feels as if I am walking on a glass world around me with everything
so fragile that one wrong move on my part and it would all just come crashing
down. And then, I wouldn’t have anything to pick up from the ashes. The shards
would hurt me hard but I wouldn’t have any place to go because those shards
were my world. The one I just shattered with my own incompetence. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 250%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 250%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 250%; text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcMw8wXFaC1Jkgjeh2W4G0xSJesgmBsPpPc6n8Ir18jxIf34WBWScdCLariyuCh2VVjMGc4Wd-AU9zDKgpPm9fKOFm1-1piYWZ6EGzXI5TyY4dHqmd3JA6fbrXUktoI19H27WXalURypno/s1600/careful.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="225" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcMw8wXFaC1Jkgjeh2W4G0xSJesgmBsPpPc6n8Ir18jxIf34WBWScdCLariyuCh2VVjMGc4Wd-AU9zDKgpPm9fKOFm1-1piYWZ6EGzXI5TyY4dHqmd3JA6fbrXUktoI19H27WXalURypno/s200/careful.png" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 250%;">The planets revolve around their sun on an invisible
orbit. They don’t change their route. They can’t I guess. I feel stuck like
them. On that invisible orbit around me. Any wrong path I take, any diversion,
any digression and I will tilt the whole balance of the universe against my
favour, leading only to destruction. Which means that I tread carefully, very
carefully. In everything I do. In everything I say. Everything done is
measured. Everything said is to be weighed. In a monologue with myself. The
consequences of saying and not saying discussed. The repercussions of things
done and not done analyzed. And all this weighing, this measurement, this
carefulness is burdensome. So much so that it has started affecting my health,
my well-being. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 250%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 250%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 250%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 250%;">When at home, I fear doing things that aren’t done in a way they are done. At work, I feel out of place. Last year, I did the mistake of making changes in my personal and professional life at the same time. And I think I have been ‘careful’ since then. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 250%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 250%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 250%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 250%;">I was never this ‘careful’. In fact, I was somebody who believed in
disruption. Not in a destructive way, in a fruitful productive way. I read
somewhere that disruption leads to growth. I used to be someone like that.
Someone who believed in doing things their way. Someone who didn’t need to
follow the norms. Not anymore though. Now, I am careful. Careful of everything.
Careful with everything. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 250%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 250%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 250%; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<br /></div>
Jyotsna Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12201588215531490861noreply@blogger.com3Mumbai, Maharashtra, India19.0759837 72.87765590000003618.5957917 72.232208900000032 19.556175699999997 73.52310290000004tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1072568556044242365.post-26802444756245971242017-07-08T12:59:00.000+05:302017-07-08T12:59:14.995+05:30Language<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Language. Something that I have always taken for
granted. Maybe, because I have always had complete command over the ones spoken
around me. Having lived all my life in one place, I took language as a part of
me – it was there but invisible, maybe in the background, silent and quiet. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">It is only when you are put up at a place where you
don’t know the language at all that you realize how big a role it can play. It
is then that ‘language’ becomes the ‘visible’ part of your existence, gaining
all the importance it deserves, mostly mocking you for taking it for granted
all these years, at times being kind throwing a few familiar words in your
direction, maybe having the same origin in the languages you have been
speaking. It makes you feel primitive because you go back to using gestures
with people. It makes you feel alien reminding you that you still don’t belong
there. It looks at you in the eye, challenging you in a duel and it knows that
it is going to win. It commands you to surrender to it, to accept its
superiority. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV4SS41vGmRfsKCowLRdBuC5kDYJOkhZH1i_ttI7ooAo6UPhiRcuIpQF-thCwHTjmlrx6BHz267KLSVKy94lmCDJQv_VbIL8sO8yaeBdiiqqwOdBiL71pk5gT_Or3zM4sxUvzedPgnWpm8/s1600/Language.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="465" data-original-width="816" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV4SS41vGmRfsKCowLRdBuC5kDYJOkhZH1i_ttI7ooAo6UPhiRcuIpQF-thCwHTjmlrx6BHz267KLSVKy94lmCDJQv_VbIL8sO8yaeBdiiqqwOdBiL71pk5gT_Or3zM4sxUvzedPgnWpm8/s320/Language.png" width="320" /></a></div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">It can be irritating initially when you are amidst
people speaking a language that you can’t make any sense out of. It is nothing more
than a sound to you. Like a constant buzzing around you. They would suddenly
start laughing only to make you realize that somebody cracked a joke. You try
to fathom what they are saying on the basis of their facial expressions. Oh, he
is being shouted upon. Maybe he is trying to explain something difficult. Did he
say something so foolish that the other person’s expressions changed so much?
Are they commenting on you knowing very well that you don’t know a bit of what
is being spoken? Questions. All sorts. With only wild guesses as answers. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">That’s when you start observing the language.
Keenly. Minutely. It takes time. It takes effort. But it’s worth it. It throws
surprises in front of you everyday. You can accept it, be frustrated by it,
revel in its beauty or have fun handling it. Maybe, it’s like understanding a
child. It can be like a stubborn one, not letting you know what it wants and
yet crying incessantly around you. And sometimes, when in a good mood, it might
let you peep into itself, it might let you feel familiar in its territory. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Every language has uniqueness to it, a particular
manner in which it is spoken, the way words are pressed or emphasized, the way the
tongues are rolled, the way the tone is pitched. Language – if you know it well
– is like something that could be lying around you like the non-existent but
useful furniture item, its presence felt and unfelt at the same time. Or Language
when you don’t know it – is like that one useful thing that you need miserably but
can’t remember where you put it last time. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Kakinada. A
small town in coastal Andhra Pradesh. That is where I have been putting up
since last one month. That is where I had my first stint with an alien language;
with Telegu.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
Jyotsna Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12201588215531490861noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1072568556044242365.post-41439605938731351332017-07-07T22:57:00.001+05:302017-07-07T22:57:45.603+05:30Muffled voices<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The
emptiness doesn’t haunt too much. The noise is not that loud. It’s muffled now.
There are other voices that are louder than that noise. The voices that have my
attention. Maybe I am deliberately not hearing the noise? Trying to push it
below practical things. Work to be finished, lists to be made, payments to be
scheduled, things to be purchased and packed. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEianYcbtH1EfUC7NrXd4zxmdXHhZ9OgsivDlYQB0gLWk6AHJUhN2ugZL2qBszhIiXMf8YurKUn6e9ZKMh7ae7BTW4kR8_xH7-aka0FSfTySO0K4rnDzuTMmNB3ElpYMsJ-OqmV2rGGoCwGF/s1600/voices-in-my-head.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="700" data-original-width="700" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEianYcbtH1EfUC7NrXd4zxmdXHhZ9OgsivDlYQB0gLWk6AHJUhN2ugZL2qBszhIiXMf8YurKUn6e9ZKMh7ae7BTW4kR8_xH7-aka0FSfTySO0K4rnDzuTMmNB3ElpYMsJ-OqmV2rGGoCwGF/s200/voices-in-my-head.jpg" width="200" /></a><span lang="EN-IN" style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The
voices of all things mundane, of things that would occur at intervals and of
things that will happen once in a lifetime – they seem to be helping me push
the noise deeper so it’s more and more muffled. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span lang="EN-IN" style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 200%;">But
then, why does an image keep playing in front of my eyes. Image of myself as a
child hiding the remains of an expensive crockery I broke under the carpet so
that no one would notice them. Those pieces hurt later – to others and to me.
What I forgot as a child was that hidden, broken pieces hurt the sole. Am I
forgetting the same thing as an adult? Am I forgetting that hidden, broken
pieces might hurt again? They might hurt the ‘soul’. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
Jyotsna Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12201588215531490861noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1072568556044242365.post-21725882645751570482017-05-12T21:30:00.000+05:302017-06-10T01:57:23.150+05:30Ex - Sarkari Babu<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 200%;">From today onwards, I no longer am
the ‘sarkari babu’. A title which I accepted first with reluctance, then with
frustration, followed by the understanding of its importance, then with
responsibility and finally with a lot of pride.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 4.5pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 4.5pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Even though I come from
a family of government officers, I never ever wanted to be one. The idea of
going to a same place, doing the same work, meeting the same people everyday
never appealed to me. But somehow, I landed one for myself. Within a span of a year,
I tried to get out of it. And trust me, I tried really hard.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 4.5pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 4.5pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 200%;">But as they say, life
is what happens when you are busy making other plans. And befo<span class="textexposedshow">re I realized, it was around eight years of working in a
government office.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin: 0cm 0cm 4.5pt;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin: 0cm 0cm 4.5pt;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">They say your first job teaches
you the most. I learnt too. I learnt that it is easiest to blame the government
when you are on the other side of the table. </span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin: 0cm 0cm 4.5pt;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">I learnt that it is not that easy
for an outsider to understand why things happen in a certain way in a
government office. I learnt that being a government officer came with a lot of
responsibility towards your country. I learnt that even though you are a
smallest part of the government machinery, you can contribute if you want to.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFOHeDHeN-8vNtneBxeFZFabQEqdE-7-qKkYu7tiDBf6Yapq-WTMkDk32NNDYbmDqGEl6OCRiDLPXQdVWxV-ib0vKz2kVS05Cffnsd8fDR9EUKjQBvxrGhHvJPm05ng5wT8Vt1VE9chSM9/s1600/download.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFOHeDHeN-8vNtneBxeFZFabQEqdE-7-qKkYu7tiDBf6Yapq-WTMkDk32NNDYbmDqGEl6OCRiDLPXQdVWxV-ib0vKz2kVS05Cffnsd8fDR9EUKjQBvxrGhHvJPm05ng5wT8Vt1VE9chSM9/s200/download.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin: 4.5pt 0cm;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">I also learnt that going to a
same place everyday could bring a lot of stability. I learnt that doing the
same work everyday could become your forte. I learnt that meeting same people
everyday could be comforting.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin: 4.5pt 0cm;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin: 4.5pt 0cm;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">I don’t remember when did I
change from being somebody who never wanted to be a government officer to
somebody who started defending when people blamed government for everything.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin: 4.5pt 0cm;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin: 4.5pt 0cm;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">Every workplace has its own pros
and cons. This one had too. But as I leave today, I leave with warm
friendships, lessons and learnings that will last a lifetime and times that
will be etched in memory forever.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">~ From an ex - Sarkari babu (Just felt
like calling that myself one last time)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Jyotsna Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12201588215531490861noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1072568556044242365.post-6694327817250661232017-04-17T02:05:00.000+05:302017-04-17T02:09:07.426+05:30'In between'<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 200%;">This
period of being ‘in between’ things. The upcoming ironical goodbyes that will
be happy and sad at the same time, the shortly due new hellos, the fear and the excitement of beginning afresh somewhere, the zeal and exhaustion that comes at
the same time at the thought of proving yourself once again, the new boundaries
that you will set and the ones that will be set for you, the chanting that you
have been doing to yourself. Saying again and again that the decisions you’ve
taken are the right ones, that you haven’t gotten a raw deal. Although its only
time that will tell if the chants have proven themselves correct or you have
learnt things the harder way once again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 200%;">This
‘in between’ feeling. The feeling of being unmoored, unhinged.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbSIqjJ12aZd8AwVKal5BA6n9Z0v_-BImpAwvR8MjOAlStz1SMChMO2_UdGfKXaorJ5wfGnV8n7TE3vbAcVqA4ujWaecnnzPgW3MrP29kL95rAaapjPze4LGf027GbR54rKt2r2mohQFbE/s1600/in+between.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbSIqjJ12aZd8AwVKal5BA6n9Z0v_-BImpAwvR8MjOAlStz1SMChMO2_UdGfKXaorJ5wfGnV8n7TE3vbAcVqA4ujWaecnnzPgW3MrP29kL95rAaapjPze4LGf027GbR54rKt2r2mohQFbE/s200/in+between.jpeg" width="200" /></a></div>
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Jyotsna Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12201588215531490861noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1072568556044242365.post-77220486110909716372017-03-30T10:30:00.000+05:302017-03-30T10:30:44.564+05:30Musings - When you reach office early <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The familiarity of the place. As you open the cabin
door. Day after day. You place your belongings and even the sound of shifting
your bag seems too loud. You switch on the lights. And a thought. A flickering
one. Can you switch on people’s consciences here like that ever? What if you
could? What a different world would that be?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin: 4.5pt 0cm;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The peculiar smell of this place.
You have known it too well now. The smell of old papers, of rusted iron chairs and of misty
intentions of people occupying them. Th<span class="textexposedshow">e smell of
dissatisfaction too lurking somewhere. Sombreness seems to be a vital molecule
of the air around.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAygO3oSFB6r85sW4PRrIHbmSS2yWx0itvMmqoO1ZKIoibUWKKEHKr6E_22w5wgONlV7QDnu-ujV0L8eAdMzK6vk8bWcKzvPPvjLAqg1qu4r2hZVx_o5lNNyo5f62ofR7rgaVVgIH8XZ0a/s1600/GOVT_2_1159699f.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAygO3oSFB6r85sW4PRrIHbmSS2yWx0itvMmqoO1ZKIoibUWKKEHKr6E_22w5wgONlV7QDnu-ujV0L8eAdMzK6vk8bWcKzvPPvjLAqg1qu4r2hZVx_o5lNNyo5f62ofR7rgaVVgIH8XZ0a/s200/GOVT_2_1159699f.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Click. And the mammoth printer machine buzzes for a couple of minutes as if grunting for waking it up so early. ‘Oh
you guys, will you ever let me sleep? You just used me entire day yesterday.
Making me work all day long.’ She grumbles.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 4.5pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">‘It’s a government office,
sweetheart. We need to have everything in black and white. Hence, we need to make you work.’ You want to say to
her. Oh but wait. Do you really want everything in black and white here? You
laugh inwardly at the irony.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 4.5pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Grey. That’s the shade here. Of
people. Of papers. Of realities. Of truths. And of lies.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 4.5pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">You notice the tea stained white
cup on the table. The proof of a long day at work yesterday. Lying quiet. You
touch it, only to be startled by its coldness. Just like the people it
serves. It’s been years since you've been here. And yet you fail to
understand the reason of getting startled by the coldness here - of the place and people both. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 4.5pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">The unusual quiet that haunts
your ears right now. But within moments, it will all start again. The ruffling of papers, the
movement of files, clicking of keys on the keyboard, incessant cries of black
telephones, fanatic meeting calls, orders masked as requests dipped in honey
smooth voices, idle gossip burning your ears, your mind alarmed and awake. </span><br />
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">And the enormity of it all. The way it gobbles you up. For the entire day.
Weeks. Months. Years too. And throws out the chewed up version of you at the
end of each day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Jyotsna Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12201588215531490861noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1072568556044242365.post-13989665621532372262017-02-02T22:17:00.001+05:302017-02-02T22:17:46.307+05:30Dear Non-Writer friends,<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">Dear Non-writer friends,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin: 4.5pt 0cm;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">Firstly, thank you for the
appreciation you show us for whatever we write on Facebook and here on our
blogs. There is nothing more motivating for a writer than the fact that their
thoughts resonate with others.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin: 4.5pt 0cm;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">One of the ways of appreciation
is sharing our work which helps us reach out more. Thank you for that. But when
you simply copy paste what we have written from our timeline to your timeline
on Facebook rather than sharing the original post or crediting the writer,
nobody knows whether the po<span class="textexposedshow">st is written by you or
by us or some other famous writer. Simply copying it on your timeline cannot be
called as credit to us. It is blatant plagiarism. When it gets shared from your
timeline, we never know how far it has reached because there are no credits,
remember? Our sharing the work on a public forum / social media doesn't mean it
is available for free copying. That thing you just copied and pasted was
somebody's hardwork of hours, maybe days too. That is the reason we are so
possessive about our work.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">And when you do something like this, it takes away one
of the most important things from us – the possibilities. From us – the ones
who are still trying to make a mark for ourselves in the world of writing. You
take away from us the possibility of a simple message like ‘I like what you
have written’ from a stranger which could be the only reason on a bad day for
us to continue writing when we are thinking of giving up. The possibility of
the post going viral, the possibility of the post getting us in contact with
the right people in the writing industry, the possibility of it landing our
next book deal. I know I am being preposterous here but heck, there are
possibilities !!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 4.5pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">So when I have to fight it out on
social media to ask you to ‘share’ the original post or give us the rightful
‘credit’ for what I have written, it makes me question as to whether I should
share my next post or not, or am I being too arrogant in asking for the credit
for my own work?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 4.5pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">I know I am not a big time famous
writer. I am just an ordinary blogger who is very passionate about writing and
the written word in general. Thank you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK36syU5VNMzj5TcZqFoRqEW8yHHs5hUf8ftJI7r_6kFOo1bwcdulwqRryybWOYbzJ5x8S4vQPecmqbam_nK2W_k2J-hNmvqZGnUi078QBrmv1-Fx_O_HzOFA2aslsrH8K0yD_tYdhqG5S/s1600/do+not+copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="125" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK36syU5VNMzj5TcZqFoRqEW8yHHs5hUf8ftJI7r_6kFOo1bwcdulwqRryybWOYbzJ5x8S4vQPecmqbam_nK2W_k2J-hNmvqZGnUi078QBrmv1-Fx_O_HzOFA2aslsrH8K0yD_tYdhqG5S/s200/do+not+copy.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: 'Bookman Old Style', serif; font-size: 13pt; line-height: 200%;">P.S. – This post was inspired by
an ugly incident I faced recently on Facebook when a school friend simply
copied a piece I had written on Facebook to her timeline and when I asked for
credit, she and her friends turned nasty towards me.</span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 4.5pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 13.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica;">I have used the word ‘we’ in the
post above because I am speaking on behalf of my writer / blogger friends. I
hope they would agree. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Jyotsna Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12201588215531490861noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1072568556044242365.post-76571107889034319612016-12-08T22:49:00.000+05:302016-12-09T00:14:10.862+05:30I. Do Not Belong <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 250%;">The
air was chilly. It was late in the night and I was coming back after being
dropped by someone midway. Midway. I could feel the chill. But not the one that
was around me, the one that was inside me. I don’t know when I started crying.
I don’t know how long I cried. The only words that echoed inside me were these,
‘I do not belong’. ‘I do not belong’. I chanted it until all the salt inside me
flowed out. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 250%;">I
do not belong to anyone, anywhere. I do not belong to people I call my own, to
home I go everyday, to people I serve. I do not belong to the bunch of people I
meet every now and then while sharing poor jokes and good alcohol. I do not
belong to that one close friend I deeply care about and get intermittently
cared in return. I do not belong to that last relationship, the ashes of which I
still carry within me. I do not belong to those casual dates which, if nurtured
could have meant something. I neither belong to that fling where lust
overpowers sanity and self-respect, nor to that one night stand when I went with
somebody I didn’t want to. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 250%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 250%;">I
do not belong to those chirpy coffee conversations about wedding planning with
girlfriends or to morbid conversations about office politics. I do not belong
to those lectures where I am moral policed and also to those freewheeling baseless
talks when I am told I can achieve anything I want. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 250%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 250%;">I
am almost, always out of place. Almost, always I am somewhere I shouldn’t be,
with people I don’t want to be around, doing things I don’t care about getting
done, talking about things that don’t matter to me, living a façade. And yet,
yet I do not know why do I go along. When every fibre inside me wants me to
stop trying to ‘belong’ somewhere, someplace. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "bookman old style" , serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 250%;">Because.
I. Do not belong. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm687mvz1mdh-94dLFy4Iy6sVaaZPZ5-lGPBUkh6FJgPbamIm1wYqFO5K6ig1ZxnW0QHRvTjPzy2f5AsGo1pbFyNocteGCtqbzpLbYZ4IWY0hx_b332KvtU0UQwhyphenhyphenOU4xCfkTLwmnJCn4k/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm687mvz1mdh-94dLFy4Iy6sVaaZPZ5-lGPBUkh6FJgPbamIm1wYqFO5K6ig1ZxnW0QHRvTjPzy2f5AsGo1pbFyNocteGCtqbzpLbYZ4IWY0hx_b332KvtU0UQwhyphenhyphenOU4xCfkTLwmnJCn4k/s200/images.jpg" width="171" /></a></div>
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Jyotsna Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12201588215531490861noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1072568556044242365.post-17101481787677082332016-11-14T19:12:00.000+05:302016-11-14T19:12:02.856+05:30Vulnerable<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">It’s
the tightness of the neck which tells me that something is wrong within. I pay
attention to other signs. The heartbeat. As expected, it’s fast and loud. So
loud that I fear others might hear it. Something strange tugs in the centre of
my chest. Like fear beginning to grow strong. My stomach is in knots. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">But
what is the reason? I haven’t had any unpleasant incident today. What is it
that is making me choke? I recall the day. One by one, I rewind the incidents,
running my fingers over them, touching each one, pressing a bit, seeing if it
pains somewhere, tasting the words others had spoken to me, trying to know if
any of them tasted bitter or sour, tried smelling the incidents looking for the
smell of foul intentions. But I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. I could sense I was
missing out on something by the way the thudding in my chest had become louder
by now. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Words.
It had to be words. I could sense it. I was hit by them. Always am. There is
nothing that can affect me the way words can. Deep or shallow, curt or polite,
warm or hurtful. It had to be words. They were my panacea. And they were my
venom too. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I
played the tape of events in my head again. Carefully going through each one them.
And just as I had guessed. There they were. My own words. I tasted them in my
mouth again. Ran my tongue over each one of them. Tried to flip it around. And
they left an ashen taste in my mouth. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Not
because I had spoken something about anyone else. But they were about me. I had
revealed something about myself to friends. The kinds you spend your time with
by laughing on idiotic jokes and criticizing the people all of you collectively
dislike. The conversation innocuously steered towards my insomnia. The way I deal
with it. The way I could deal with it better by not spending my time reading. They
asked questions. And I had to answer. I couldn’t steer the conversation towards
somebody else. So there they were. Discussing me. In front of me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">While
I was talking, there was a trigger inside which was asking me to do the damage
control, to stop the conversation but I ignored it and now I am regretting.
Nothing has happened yet due to my sharing something about myself and yet
everything is so different. I feel raw, exposed. I feel vulnerable, weak. Like
I am giving the power to other people to destroy me, even though the
information might me trivial in their eyes. But to me, to me it’s like handing
over a piece of myself and then giving them the power to trigger something that
I cannot stop. Somehow, people make me feel vulnerable these days. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">On
the other hand, there are times when I write about myself and my life. On the
blog and on social media. So one could say I am as such revealing myself. I
agree I am. But that is the measured part, the harmless part. I am aware of
every single word I put out there about myself. The vulnerability creeps in
when I am questioned, discussed and probed. What if I say something that will
let them know what I think, how I think, what I am going through? That’s the
scarier part. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYSrmsQ-f39RqmuWSOc1NxvZfghDjYtmtHILO4AJT5-fb8P1JGThpZMoVJgtuSftjyWRqq1JXTWJR2H85BkzH9flkDDj6wNaqlqHJMTvNdKXsvFCfUNk-v2ZZ5t_Hza7BtI_LP2AfUUkuU/s1600/Vulnerability.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="113" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYSrmsQ-f39RqmuWSOc1NxvZfghDjYtmtHILO4AJT5-fb8P1JGThpZMoVJgtuSftjyWRqq1JXTWJR2H85BkzH9flkDDj6wNaqlqHJMTvNdKXsvFCfUNk-v2ZZ5t_Hza7BtI_LP2AfUUkuU/s200/Vulnerability.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Does
it happen to you? Do you ever feel vulnerable when you share things? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Jyotsna Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12201588215531490861noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1072568556044242365.post-90295792314456196532016-10-09T15:32:00.000+05:302016-10-09T15:32:26.921+05:30I smell of..<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div align="center" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="center" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.5pt;">I smell
of longing and sweet nothings<br />
Of passion in eyes<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><br />
Merging with those browns<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="center" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 4.5pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.5pt;">I smell
of a divided time<br />
<span class="textexposedshow">That I counted with my heartbeats</span><br />
<span class="textexposedshow">And a black watch</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="center" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.5pt;">I smell
of unsaid words<br />
And written diary notes<br />
After which I fidgeted a lot<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="center" style="background: white; line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 4.5pt; margin-left: 0cm; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 4.5pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #1d2129; font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%; mso-bidi-font-family: Helvetica; mso-bidi-font-size: 13.5pt;">I smell
of fragility, beauty and everything I cannot undo<br />
Then I remembered<br />
That I smell of you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Jyotsna Bhatiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12201588215531490861noreply@blogger.com3