1 “Why i write?”

"A sea of love, 

Hard to find, yet refreshing as the sea of tranquility,

The Mast is broken,wind sail is torn

As I felt a spear down my throat..

Cross these waters before the thunders...

But why am I afraid of them now?"

Everyone Asks me

"Why i write?"

            "What make's you so addicted to your Pen?"

Well I write because I would like to live forever. The fact of my future death offends me. Part of this derives from my sense of my own insignificance in the universe.My life and death are a barely momentary flicker. I would like to become more than that.

          I seek to immortalize the world I have found and made for myself, even knowing that I won't be there to witness that immortality, mine or my work's, that by definition I will never know whether my endeavor has been successful.

        I desire variety in my work and the work of others because the expansion of my  territories is the expansion of my world. The poem and stories expands the world as I find it, it makes more world available to me.

     And never to forget beauty, however strange or difficult.

My father is a proud man. He has experienced many things from a very young age,coming from Bargarh he started his career at the age of 17 but according to me it began the day he retired from Air Force.

He is short tempered and did some wrong in his life but he is not  a bad man. He had just been washed with bad experience and born more short-tempered than most. He wear's his pride like a parapet. I don't know whether it is a shield him or to not let anyone in but he let's me in.sometimes.

To be honest I don't see him as handsome.I say that to him everyday.I never lie which makes me brutally honest and cold to many people.(Another Fact about me) But their is a day attached in my memory,

We were in Bargarh enjoying a picnic that day i saw him as the most handsome in this world. He was handsome from the depth of his eyes to the gentle expressions of his voice. He was handsome from his generous opinions to the touch of his hand upon my own. I loved the way his voice quickened when he sparkled with a new idea, or was so enjoying one of mine that he lost himself for a moment and quite forgot the mask he wore for others.He was happy with his friends around not judging him like others did.

How can i describe his appearance?

Well he has tousled dark brown hair, which is thick and lustrous. His eyes are a mesmerising deep light brown like mine, flecks of silvery light performed ballets throughout. His face is strong and defined, his features molded from granite. He has dark eye brows, which sloped downwards in a serious expression. His usually playful smile had drawn into a hard line across his face and he has strong hands, slightly rough from working.

My Mother is a real Beauty indeed.

She had a kind of overstated beauty, perhaps it was because she is so disarmingly unaware of her true prettiness. Her white skin is  completely flawless.But she uses face masks or expensive products, that really wasn't needed.

She is all about being extra different from my father who prefers simplicity, making things easy, helping those around her to relax and be happy with what they have.

Perhaps that is why her skin glows , it is her inner beauty that lit her eyes and softened her features. When she smiles and laughs you couldn't help but smile along too, even if it was just on the inside.No wonder my father fell for her at first sight.

To be in her company is to feel that you too were someone, that you had been warmed in summer rays regardless of the season.

But there is one thing about her that only me and my father can see. I don't know if my father can. Her emotions are not easily hidden on her innocent face. Her pain is evident in the crease of her lovely brow and the down-curve of her full lips. But her eyes, her eyes shows her soul. They are a deep pool of restless gold, an ocean of hopeless grief.

As I looked into her eyes I knew, all the beauty of the universe could not even hope to compete with this simple thing: passion. Passion turnes her eyes into orbs of the brightest fire, and in them I read clearly that she would fight to the very last tear for her life.

She would not let the world break her. Sure she could cry, but she would never let them take her true self from her. She clung to it with passion. Passion that makes her beautiful for me.

  This is all I can say about my mother after all these years of observing her.

I don't know the meaning behind this book. It is my father who requested me so I ended up catching my thoughts and binding them together.I honestly love to be at home ...in my room.With no people around. I love darkness but we can't call it depression.I don't consider myself a girl.I consider myself a storm with skin.

Well everyone is in love I am too. But not with a person. I am in love with rain, moon,3 AM, silence, midnight and my book's.

I always "explained" People if I did anything wrong or I felt I had too but the day my mother called me a "Backstaber" I knew that their is no need of explaining. I stopped explaining myself because I realized "Nishita don't explain because other people understand from thier level of perception".

"What is the thing that I hate the most? "

When I am wrong of course.But the fact that I hate the most is definitely when people belittle me. Don't belittle me if I am wrong. Educate me.This fact has broken my heart many times and still if someone does this kind of mistake I simply walk away because I can't be belittled by anyone.

According to me humans are weird creatures. They search for perfecion in others, although there's no perfection in them. We sit around judging people simply because of one poor judgment or choice. Their interest in the same sex. Not being the right kind of shape or color. Or a tragic outcome of a family affair. The point is that it's not our place to judge. But we do.

When you point at a person, five fingers are pointing back at you, or that's what my mother would say when I would rat her out.

There will always be something shameful in the eyes of society. We judge to feel superior, to feel good about ourselves. Oh, she did this, which is not as bad as what I did. It seems as though what we did isn't bad anymore. Someone does something much worse and it seems to completely erases what you have done. That's what we do, whether we are aware of it or not. For the reason that we are human.

Sugarcoating things have become second-nature to us. We blind ourselves from the truth in order to allow ourselves to believe we are doing right. Just so we can sleep better at night.

Tell me, is anything truly perfect in this world?

Is there such a thing as the perfect body? The perfect face? The perfect family? Or even perfect love?

As humans we try to create and work for perfection. Something pretty or successful to show off the world. We can do evil things to achieve our goals, if we want it bad enough. It is just instinct.

In all truth, perfection does not exist in the world. This is what I have led to believe. We may reach for perfection, but we will always fail. Because we are humans. We are flawed and whatever we create will be flawed also.

We all have have urges, whims, a long yearning to do things we are not suppose to or things we shouldn't want. Everyday is a battle. A battle to not fall into those sinful desires. I am in that battle too. Unfortunately, I am not victorious. Laughter... That's all I heard, laughter and harmful words.

Words that can even cut a diamond.

Since we are talking about my views how about the most important view according to the other's "God".I live in India after all!

Well here goes nothing my Parents always order me to workship various beautiful sculptures kept in a corner of room. I struggled more in learning the name and roles of those God's rather than learning periodic table to be honest.

One day my mother ordered me to do the same thing like other days for the sake of humanity. I replied with Peace in my heart "Mom I don't feel like praying".This was enough to make my mom mad and strom off.

That day I just went towards my kitchen grabbed a glass of fresh fruit juice. Took a seat and wrote a beautiful note to "Humanity" which according to the me world seem to lack. A lot.

Dear God and Humanity,

Let us play truth or dare. Three choices:

1. Let one person suffer billions of times.

2. Let billions suffer once.

3. Destroy all of creation and all hope for future life.

Tell me the truth or I dare you to live my choice for even a nano second, to feel the consequences of each.Then we can have our future, our paradise, our Earth, because you will have mastered free will.

Love can hurt, yet it is the only prize. 

Your creation,

.........

Not that I could actually sent it but if I could that is all i want in my life.

The next day I had a nightmare after a very disturbing event that had occured in our life: My mom and dad fighting .Again.

I will never forget that bleach white face...

I was in this empty room where I saw her .Tall and beautiful.She wisphered near my ear's something I won't share with anyone .Ever.

The ghost was more silent than the grave it arose from, staring with heavy lidded eyes and a slack mouth. Her cheekbones accentuated the skeletal look and in her gaze my mind was robbed of emotion. Instead of running, or screaming I stood more still than the mossy statue in the heart of the graveyard and just as cold. She beckoned with fingers that rapidly faded to only a suggestion of form. I passed each stone without taking account of the path until I stood in a place that was unrecognizable. She became more solid again, but this time her skin bore many silver scars, thick and jagged.

For some reason I felt safe around her like I know her.My mind is more talkative than my mouth.Everyone thinks I am funny but I am actually not funny. I'm just mean and people think  I  am funny. I am selfish.

I will be.

According to me I don't see myself as a bad person the situation turns me into a bad person.The thing is that people are being hated when they are real and they are being loved  when they are fake.Sometimes I wish if I could be that little kid that I used to be again.

I am not rude I just say the things that others don't have guts to say. I don't care what others think about me I just love my life with my own rules. You should too.

Hate me

    Or

   Hateeee mee!

I don't give a damn!

I am Selfish in that and every possible sense.

Let's began with another chapter of my life. My parent's!

"Married Life"

Two damn heavy words! But still there are billion's living this kind of life.One of them are my parents. They have a pure charming love story a young boy in Air Force spots a beautiful young girl and changes his name just to get close to her.They live far away from each other but this makes thier bond only stronger and He writes her a letter everyday until the day they both have a beautiful marriage and after one year this amazing creation come's to world "me!".

Well but what after that?

They started a new activity to entertain themselves "Argument"

Arguing with each other is so pointless, because your retort is based more in your own emotions than the quality or intention of my response... and so the best thing according to me they can reply is that context is everything and you need to abandon these black and white opinions. There are many that build their persona on such dichotomies, on such hard "truths," yet the persona is false and it needs to crumble to let the soul take over.

But they won't listen.Well me being selfish I leave them in thier peaceful condition because maybe I am just too tired of trying something I know isn't going to work.

Getting straight to the point I am a Mamalia under Animalia which means I am bilateraly symmetrical. Therefore here it is...one side of me always forces me

"You need to help them, you are thier only daughter for sake! ".(This is the weaker side)

And the other stronger side

"What the hell?!  Mind your own freaking business they are adults after all and they must be the one talking to you not you!."

What causes these phenomena's?

Emotions.

The very thing that make us human. You can have happiness, pride, excitement, relief. Every emotion considered good. But what would you be if you didn't feel hurt, or pain, or despair? You can't have the good without the bad. There is no light without darkness. The trick is to balance them, so the bad doesn't seem so terrible, and you can truly appreciate the good.

Everytime they argue I could only feel frustration. When the frustration builds and I think I might explode - I take a deep breath. I want to shout, have a tantrum and beat my hands on the ground like a toddler. I want to vent, let it out, but I don't want to say words I don't mean, be hurtful. It's just so easy to be cruel in that moment and then the damage is done. But I am the only daughter therefore I must be understanding.

My father is an emotional person.

If I was given the chance to explain his mind a I could say that his

emotions come to his mind like the waves meeting the land. He can stand here on the beach, eyes gazing out to the water but his feet can't help but get wet. They come to him, soak his entire being and help him to understand his entire self better. Just like the land and ocean are one world, his emotions are just another part of himself, another form of intelligence to embrace, another way to learn.

I try to talk to him gently because I know I am the only one he will ever let in to see his true emotional self. Never once did he cry in front of people. To them, he is calm, collected, stoic.He held his head high and smiled in the face of everyone.Yet as soon as he is alone, the mask dropped and tears fell.

I am very young compared to him but according to me Sometimes joy and sadness get all mixed up, sometimes I think it's supposed to be that way. If joy for myself means hurt for another, how can it be different? If I gain and you lose of course my emotions are mixed. 

Like for me competition, but only when the stakes aren't so high, only when there is enough for all to be happy. Dad tells me to toughen up, grow up. Even though he is the  emotional one and I can't choose not to be.

Maybe if I saw enough horror or lived somewhere my survival was really in the balance every day I'd have to. I don't know. But in that tangle of emotion there is a path I must walk, yet like a ball of yarn, the thread must be pulled soft and slow.

My mother on the other hand is really different in terms of emotions. They both have different emotions. I admit that I have been there for my dad almost everytime.But not for my mom because in my simple language she can't understand or she doesn't want to.

I would say that I am lost until I find the definition of "life" at least.

Once I read this book in which the character suffering from a disease keeps a cigarette between his lips but never burn's it well because he consideres it a metaphor. "See you keep the thing that can kill you between your lips, but you actually don't give it the permission to kill you."

It really inspired me. The metaphor similarly  goes for Kim-woo-jin an amazing writer who jumped in the sea with his lover Yun-Sim-Deok who was the first soprano.They composed this song "Praise of death" based on the poem written by Kim.Only 4 percent people know about thier legacy and I am privileged to be one of them.

Well the whole point is that I seek to look after something unique, my view of seeing things is different than others for me at least.When something bad happens I act like I don't care but deep down I swear it kills me perhaps that is why I have taken an oath to leave my country once I am a surgeon.

I am not lazy I am just on energy saving mode.That is why I love myself and each moment that I loved and will live because I love myself enough to never lower my standards for anyone else.

Therefore I am not like my mom because I like to stay low key. According to me not everyone needs to know everything about me. Some people want material thing

Me?

I just want some peace and people who love me around me.

If you are reading this with a restless soul and an aching heart i want you to know that sometimes you have to break down In order to break through.Believe me it helps.This what I told my dad and it helped him.

"Moment's that I lived"

    Soon.

-Nishita Pradhan

    Because I am in this ride and so are you.