_sleepyhead_

metaphors, music and food

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  • _sleepyhead_ 5w

    You are beautiful!
    #temp

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    The first time I reached puberty, I was fixated by how I look and often spent a whole lot of time infront of the mirror, making my hair look perfect . By then, nobody had ever made me feel insecure of how my body is until I transcended puberty and was in the nascent stages of adolescence.
    I had people who walked in, with their unsolicited advice and rather baseless judgement on how thin I am, and how my hair looks dull and boring. I believe they sniff people in a stage where they can lay their traps of insecurity and make them feel deplorable of every little blemish that can ruin all the prospects of good life. The initial reaction I had , was to let go off it , but then I looked around the chain of body shaming isn't merely dictated to plump chubby girls but it is inclusive of everything.
    Making someone feel confident of themselves is like a distant dream in the lands of utopia. Because how will the economy work if it doesn't constantly keep you on edge ? These hidebound parameters, that society so vehemently sticks to is toxic and connives to jeopardize with the mental and emotional well being of so many.
    But then body shaming isn't a tale of commoners. Celebs are often face uncouth criticism regarding their bodies, skin color rather than their work.
    I have had known so many people who outwardly fit into the parameters of beautiful yet have faced some flak with respect to the shape of their nose or unaligned teeth. I wonder something so miniscule can be magnified and used to degrade someone down in the most uncouth ways that they go to lengths to change it.
    There is always a huge focus on how you look than being healthy. The highly unrealistic images of a voluptuous women might invite the eyes of many, but I don't believe it can ever manage to win any hearts. Because beauty these days is an absolute superficiality. It has got nothing meaningful to offer. Rather it has deviated, dodged the mental aspects that constitutes real beauty. And thus, we have many do called good looking clan with shallow brains and even more closed minds.
    Well this brings me to the point -Can't we teach people to be okay with who they are without administering guilt in them? Well if you are dusky or fair, tall or short, plump or slender , does any of these make a difference to how immensely intelligent we all are? Can men just be who they are without drooling to become a alpha male ? Think only if we learn to accommodate everyone without leaving anyone out, won't the cases of domestic violence and suicide plummet down?
    Utopia can be a myth but I believe a change can sweep out the deplorable elements that thrive on pessimism and grief.
    To all who is reading this, you are beautiful. And you will always be. Be it just anyone. Your physical features can not determine how far you can go unless you let it dictate you. Your body is temple. Worship it. You don't have to blend in, when you were born to stand out.
    ©_sleepyhead_

  • _sleepyhead_ 5w

    Sailing in the adulting boat, I have come to understand life in the most fragile ways. I understand death, I understand heartbreaks too. But more than anything I understand uncertainty. This is why I know this is the moment I only have that can alter the rest of life in the most tragic or comic ways. Not everything I say could be a gospel truth but the only thing I anticipate is reflect.
    1. Death.
    Death waits at the end of the tunnel. At least this what I believed to be. I felt death is a distant demon. But it's not.
    It's besides each of us. We walk between death and life everyday. Yet, when time strikes, we fall on the treacherous side of it and that's how it ends. But that nowhere imply that we should retrieve in cocoon and not live life. It means if death is our certainty, let us live. Live as if it were our last. And do not underate the sunsets and sunrises you see. They are hopes to go on.

    2. Hope.
    Hope is a good thing. But just not always. There are times when hope has killed me. Hope wisely. Everything shouldn't be pinned on hopes, something are better accepted the way they are no matter even if you spend countless nights wailing in pain.

    3. Pain.
    The most inevitable part of life is itself pain. You can not call a life without pain. Pain will always find you at some juncture in your life. It will drown you in it for a while. But don't evade. Don't evade being broken down. Embrace it with open arms and let it churn your heart. Sounds hideous? But one fine day, it will be your biggest strength to face every odd. It will be your motivation, your purpose to life.

    4. Purpose -
    Having a purpose is truly important. Something that gives you why to live. But purpose is a very intimate element. It can vary always. Find yours. Find that thing which drives you to wake up every morning. There is path which transcends the prison of success and failure, and that's purpose.

    5. Success and Failure.
    These are illusions. And illusions are temporary. As aptly said, don't take success to your mind and failure to heart. You might fail, but that never means you can not succeed and otherwise. Let your Purpose help you strike a balance.

    6 Balance.
    Balancing your emotions is the like unleashing rationality. Being slave to emotions and being alien to it, can be enormously dangerous. Learn to feel but not at the cost of your sanity and love.

    7. Love.
    There is nothing powerful than love. Not many know what is love and what it is to love. But honestly it needs courage and strength to love someone in the most purest sense. And those who can do it, knows life. There are some mystic powers that can make a person unleash his or her true potential. A person who deeply loves is never a coward. Within him lies the greatest power called love. I believe in love even if it has pained me enough.

    8 Enough.
    Learn to set boundaries with people. There are people who will always step on it. Some will throttle your sensibility and some will manhandle your emotions. Step out and walk off. There is so much more to life. Believe.

    9. Believe.
    Believe yourself to the core yet be humble to introspect . Don't let the smog of skepticism blur your vision . You are your only resistance. There is a sleeping infinity within you. Awaken at the truth.

    10. Truth.
    Sometimes what you think is the truth can just be a part of something. There is always more to it. Always. Taking a piece out of it, inserting your bias and making it your truth can never fetch you wisdom. And wisdom is the fuel to a fulfilling life.

    11. Life.
    Final words. Life is bizarre yet beautiful. It's crazy yet sane. It's harsh yet gentle. It's a hodgepodge of literally everything. But at the end, you will thank it for it's absurd nature. You will!

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    ©_sleepyhead_

  • _sleepyhead_ 12w

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    And I believe the most extraordinary people live an ordinary life, where there is no pursuit for greed nor there is a trace of grandiosity. They live in loving others, striving for their happiness without being veiled in motives. They are not the megalomaniac ones ,instead they cherish the most simplest things and find a way out through the most harrowing happenings. For life through their lens is like one timed escapade, worth living with vitality and alacrity.
    ©_sleepyhead_

  • _sleepyhead_ 13w

    It takes a moment to change the course of our lives, and to make us realize that everything is transient. Death is a nasty creature lurking everywhere but more than that it's harsh truth and bitter reality. But if everything is going to perish into ashes, if everything has an end, I still want to love the people from the core of my heart until one day I am empty enough to let them go. When they leave, I will weep but eventually I shall embrace their departure with a sigh of relief that I loved them to the core and I will continue to till I breathe my last.

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    2005.

    The fifth rack of my wardrobe, has a silk shawl with splinters of mirror embroidered on them. It is a magenta hued piece of work, especially woven on a handloom. The chief owner of it was my Grandma, who never wore it except on Grandpa's birthday. She felt it was too intimate and valuable to be worn outside, hence it usually laid in a intricate three layered wrapping with a satin ribbon to hold the folds together. It was Grandpa 's gift to her, when he had been to Delhi. She says it was a compensation for missing her birthday and he always knew how to make up for it. And that is why, she keeps it so preserved and protected and never flaunts it. She believes, the world should be kept at bay from something so indelibe and precious. But ever since, Grandpa passed away from a fatal heart attack she retrieved in a shell. She smiled meekly, but it always felt empty. She chose solitude because in all shades of her solitude, she spoke to Grandpa,laughed with him and most of the times cried inconsolably. I remember once, she told me , "Darling, even a thousand deaths can not take away the people you have loved beyond yourself ". Back then, I hardly knew the gravity of what she said, until she I saw her asleep on her armchair. She didn't move a bit for hours, with the gramophone playing on the same tune over and over again. It is when she didn't respond to anything that we realized she left. She died a peaceful death , one that she always wished for. But, she left a tumult of emotions to grapple with, one that I still drown in. It took some months to believe she isn't with us anymore. I always believed she is in her room, speaking to Grandpa. Her laughter that filled every corridor of our home, the marigold flower that she tucked in her braid, the trail of fragrance, her dusky wrinkled skin on which I rubbed my cheek, everything felt snatched in one go, without any admonishment. I took me a great courage to go in her room, but when I went I crashed on the floor and wept till I finally could fathom her absence.
    I went to her shelf, picked up a the silk shawl wrapped in a fragile paper endowed with a satin ribbon in it. It smelt like redolent aroma of fresh marigold she wore all the time. A small note was tucked inside it, almost hidden under the ribbon. I pulled it meticulously, and sat stunned at its revelations -
    It read, " To my dearest Pari, a leaf withers away with time until it falls on the ground dead. But it doesn't mean, that a new leaf doesn't bloom in its place. Same is the case with life. I believe that I lived well. Because I am brimming with a satisfaction of having loved you enough enabling you to take on this world. I feel to have reached the purpose of life and I believe the time has come to bid a farewell. After your grandpa's death, life had lost all its vigour. Days were tougher , but just amidst every harrowing tragedy lies a glimmer of relief. And for me, it was you. I looked at you and felt only love. Hence, this shawl from now belongs to you. It has a touch of your grandpa and fragrance of my love. Wrap it around you any time, and we promise , we will protect you like we have always. I love you in my death as much as I loved you in life. My child, a thousand deaths can not take away the people you love beyond yourself. I am you, from now. Take care.
    Yours Granny,
    - 2005".
    ©_sleepyhead_

  • _sleepyhead_ 13w

    I wonder how does it feel to be in chasm of darkness, even when the sun rays squint your eyes? The trails of despair imprints your pillow every night, when the demons under your bed crawl by your side kissing you an insomnia. How does it feel to have lump in your throat, when you struggle to put into words how bereft you are of hope. ? Isn't it a feeling like being throttled by a chain of stigma that runs around your neck. The inferno of pain set by thoughts and the emptiness that follows - can words really suffice the battles I lose every night? Don't you see the choked words I spew out in shrieks of hopelessness? Don't you see my secrets etched inside my brown pupils?
    Can't I just say I am not okay, and leave the rest for you to discern? Don't tell me it shall pass, for I see no silver lining. I am drowned in this abyss of frightening melancholy, don't tell me it is petty. Don't utter those advices . No. I do not need them. Instead, listen to me. Listen to me when someday I just stop talking to you. Listen to my deafening silence , it shall tell you what words can not. Listen....
    ©_sleepyhead_

  • _sleepyhead_ 14w

    The Rubber Ball.

    I shuddered at the sight of my own reflection- not wishing to look in the mirror that spoke of my turmoil, so brazenly etched in my sullen eyes and sombre countenance. I wanted to flee and evade the barricades that got closer everyday, stifling me to breathe, holding me as a hostage. But how do I do it, when I can not see them in real, for they are inside my mind, like demons hoisted on the walls, laughing at my perpexled lot. I see no ray of light, the darkness in my mind is blinding my vision obscuring every glint of hope that might have passed by. Do you know how it feels to see the shreds of your dreams lying in front of you , the one that you ruthlessly believed in ? Scornful.

    Yet, there is something I know that is loosening the grip of my pain. I felt less throttled when I looked at, a homeless kid running through the alleys, along his younger brother with a torn and useless rubber ball. It was mine, the one I threw off in fit of rage. I saw it in those tiny hands as if it were a prized possession dropped straight from the heaven. For the first time, I felt smaller and shrank in front of the zealous happiness that donned their dusty skin. The grins and shrieks of joy even in the disheveled state, conveyed a startling epiphany. I saw a glimmer of hope, and light when I saw my reflection the window. My lips were curved, and my eyes shone like a precious ruby stone. I cherished looking at their tiny hands clutching the ball, suspending it in the air, and trying hard to catch it first. They laughed when neither of them could catch, as it dropped on the ground , with light bounces , running swiftly onward. I sat by the window, until a young lady walked out of the hut, kissed their faces and took them in, presumably for a supper. They ran to the place where the ball halted, picked it with pride and walked inside their shanty like the happiest people ever to walk on this cosmos.

    I felt a sudden surge of nonchalance in me, and the turbulent tides finally settling in. The soothing laughter of a child, who chose to look at a torn rubber ball as a prized trophy made me feel awfully shamed of my fixation with problems. I realized with every adversity, no matter how unbearable it may seem, with it comes a matter of choice. For you only suffer as long as you want to and as much as you want to.
    ©_sleepyhead_

  • _sleepyhead_ 17w

    Pardon my rants.

    @redolent_smile thank you for the correction.

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    I lay supine ,facing skyward to the stars strewn across like the splinters of bijouteri. The behemoth canvas bejewelled with the crescent moon, can not suffice how miniscule I feel of my woes. I waft with the breeze that ruffle my hair, and play within the gaps of my fingers. My toes tickle at the wetness of the grass, and a army of fireflies coruscate the dark chasm I lay in. Somewhere deep in woods , the sound of the cricket serenade my thoughts to sooth making me one and alive . I steal a glance at the universe, and marvel at its munificense to hold me in its womb like urchin clutching a motherly arm . The tears entwined in my eye speak of gratitude , as I catch the allusions of hope and sanguinity with the dash of sun rise marking it's beginning to end my nemesis.
    ©_hritikaaa_

  • _sleepyhead_ 18w

    I abstain myself from taking your name, but even if I don't, it's never going to dissipate from my memory. You are etched in me, but I believe with time, you will be a dusted name in the recesses of my mind. In true sense, you will be closed chapter, a history that I will keep visiting to fetch some nuggets of sagacity as I pass the wisdom to the generation that shall follow. If you wonder, if am wailing for your absence than I must admit that some things should certainly be mourned, but not for a forever. I understand that maybe you still look at me as wimpy, naive human who did not know how crass some people can be, yet I take a greater pride in telling you that I am perhaps not so gullible as you think. I kept fooling myself with the rigmarole of vows you threw at me, engraving every ounce of your lie like a gospel truth. But oblivion presents much more perils than certainity does. Because people are proficient in pulling up a facade curtailing the emptiness their shallow confession carry, yet I say I am unnerved now.
    I thought I might not reach the end of the blinding abyss of betrayal and lies, yet when I made it I realised the world is a capacious place. You slip from one, you enter another. You are shunned somewhere yet you will always be welcomed somewhere. Life is vagarious, and I am admire it that way. For scores of people, living on wounds of broken heart or loss unabashedly find hope in this change. I won't lie I that I don't miss our banters. To be honest, I still take a glimpse of our silent moments when we have felt small laying under the cluster of stars that blinked at us. Because more than sustenance, I have lived the love I showered on you. You don't live pretentiously, when you live you cancel all the probabilities of what could go wrong and risk your heart more by indulging it with the other person. I had premonitions telling me that at the end, I will be left with a hand full of a splintered hopes and dreams. Had I been hyper vigilant which I am now, the ordeal could have been very well truncated.
    I ain't cribbing over anything. I am grateful that you crashed me down. I am glad. I won't ever say I am scared of love, because I didn't leave empty-handed. I have whole box of erudite experience which I fondly open when I need it the most. I don't look for love, instead I peep inside to find right inside me. I was petrified , not understanding how to sail in an adulting boat but hitting on a iceberg like you has definitely made me pro . Not everything is the end, some endings kick start new beginnings. Beginning worth cherishing for ever.
    ©_hritikaaa_

  • _sleepyhead_ 21w

    A slice OF M E T A N O I A

    Mind is a belligerent monster if let loose in wild, can open doors to retrogradation and repentance , like a venom injected for a death slow and steady. It throttles sanity, hammering down every wire to sanguine tunnels and emaciating the vigour to fight through them. Sometimes, the only foe that stands in front is the unleashed mind and inferno of imagination set by it. Like a blinded , lost and wounded urchin finding way to reach his mother, the state amidst catastrophic thoughts is no less. The shackles of past are strenuous to break, and everytime you do it, you butcher a part of you relating to it.
    It is never easy to walk through a tempest especially when you had least expected it. It is never easy to put through the thoughts and demons that crawl every night kissing you an insomnia. When you shudder, and trigger, when you palpitate and faint, you are wrapped and engulfed in a indefinite tacenda.
    When you are stoic to the outside, but withered inside. You wail yet nobody looks, you speak yet nobody listens.Your umpteen soliloquy go in vain. Because that's what thoughts do - paralyse.
    But time glides by, it waits for nobody. Slowly a reason, natal and wimpy it may be, knocks at the doors of your conscience. The clouds once cleared , a magnificent azure sky breaks free , and so are you from the prison of your past. The inferno of imagination, jealousy and anger soothes down and even if the remnants crawl, you extinguish it down. You begin to live with lessons of hardship and nuggets of wisdom. You mitigate your thoughts because you know are whole already. And these natal thoughts soon turn into pathways to lead life. Maybe not everything gets precise and beautiful, but least you learn to smile through the fog.
    ©_hritikaaa_

  • _sleepyhead_ 22w

    The two roomed thatched home I live,
    Has a million of memories,
    Stacked in repertoire I keep playing,
    The long mountains of Sahyadri,
    And gentle flowing river hitting onto boulders,
    Making it's slanting trajectory,
    Is where I made paper boats,
    As each time my boat sank and melted,
    I made another,
    Yet another,
    Until the day turned into dusk, and maa would summon me for a supper,
    Collecting pebbles of varying sizes,
    I stored in a jar as a souvenir of a day,
    The tyres we propelled on the orbit of the roads
    Frollicking and jumping till we reached home,
    As Maa stood burning the night lamp,
    And baba sitting on the wooden bench,
    Grimacing at our mud stricken face.
    In the nights Maa oiled my hair,
    Tied them perfect into braids, overturning them into curving U.
    When dada and I studied nights in the verandah,. Under the shadow of night lamp,
    The stars smiled at us, miles away,
    As I vowed to reach them once.
    I believed the crescent moon to be my cradle,
    On which I will swing and catapult stars,
    To jewel my mother's barren hands.
    I knew this is where I belong,
    Between the stars and planets,
    Moon my cradle and sun my light.
    Till the time elapsed,
    Into a decade or two,
    I wear my spacesuit to meet my pals,
    To fulfill the vows I took beneath the sky,
    To shimmer Maa s hand,
    I set out on a journey, into an era of unknown.
    Believing even if I don't come back,
    Bringing stars to coddle her,
    I shall become one.
    And shine bright for her.

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    ©_hritikaaa_