Greatful for...Happiness

Hola Vanillla People !!!!:)J Hope you are all doing fably awesome in your lives?

It’s been a while since I wrote a greatful post!! So, here is another awesome Friday and Maxabella makes me feel greatful again with her ever smiling blog and postsJ A very Happy 10th Anniversary to you dear!:)

This week I’m greatful for:

·        My new found Friends who have been my classmates for 3 semesters. Yesterday something happened (may be for the good, I think!) These girls were kind to be there. We had a great time after college. Had a yummylicious jalapeno and pineapple pizza, then hung out at Mc Donald’s and treated myself with a Butterscotch Mc Swirl, and my friend with a balloonJ

·        My Bestie: Whom I met after 5 looooong months. We had such a fun time, clicked pictures in our funny poses and I loved that we are finally together after long!

·        A friend I call Mado Mono: This friend surprised me this Monday morn’ by sending me a very short but sweet message! “ Oye PsychoJ Sup?” :D Thank you Mado Mono for thinking of me and being the reason to kick start my week on a very awesome Mad note;)

·        This lovely friend I found in my block. My college teacher gave me an assignment in my second sem to find an acquaintance and do some sessions with that person; not too technical, but more like just talking. Who knew that this awesomely cool aunty in my block will become a friend who I’ll forever cherish! Today I wrote her a love letter as she is off to another city!

·        To my Mentor in College and other teachers too: Yes, I hate my univ and teachers for many other things, but I love them too. They have been great. And as humans we all learn as we make mistakes. My mentor’c calm voice soothes me. He is great! And so am I;) haha!

·        To some online friends who have always stuck around in my weird times, made an effort to bring a smile on this faceJ  My heartiest thanksJ

Have a fab Weekend everyoneJ

Picture Credits: JL Designs, see Maxabella's wonderful page:)

There’s a reason to smile

A reason to love

A reason to be free

A Hug, A sweet tear,

A miss you text,

A free sky,

Flying birds……..

;)

I like this song for it's perkiness ..

Aakriti

PS: There is something special about me and love lettters;) 


PPS: For those of you new here, I write grateful as greatful :) My spellings are fine! ;)

May it Be..

May it be the shadows call,

Will fly away,

May it be a journey of,

To light the day,

When the night is overcome,

You may rise to find the sun……….

Morni ye…..Utuli….ye…

Believe that you will find your way……

The Acoustic Guitar strums in my ears. Lovely happy notes..And then I imagine Gerard Butler singing:

I just want to see you,

When you are all alone,

I just want to,

Catch you if I can,

I just want to be there,

When the morning light explodes….

I can’t escape……

I love you till the endJ

Sigh…. Enya, thank you for singing the way you do. I admire the echo effect you create. It creates a bright peaceful aura around me.

And Gerard…Ah! I loved you in P.S.I love you.

There are times when we cage ourselves in work. I do so, more often than not. So, I’ll sit in the same room the whole day, then hold my head for getting so heavy as readings of Hysteria and Depressive Patients call me to enter their gates, the one where Freud, McWilliams chant their experience with their patients.

Am I worthy of being a therapist? Well, I do hope.

Will I be able to complete my dissertation with flying colours? Umm..Should be able to!

Why the hell do I procrastinate? :x

As my skin began to fold encompassing anxiety in its pores, my head ached. Mind all disturbed, as I thought and wondered how the hell I will traverse the moments which lie in front of me. And here was my friend telling me that some of my classmates had already begun to decide the sari they would be wearing on farewell! I smirked, thinking “Completing my last sem to the best of my ability would be enough for me!”

It’s been a while since I danced. Perhaps activities like baking and dancing have come to fill only my happy moments! This is not to say I’m sad at the moment. But a wish to be reticent surely enwraps me!

The future lies in front of me calling me to burn the midnight’s oil! I so miss my board days; when I was imbued in my Macro and Micro Economics questions. When I would ‘sit and study’ (it has almost become a joke now!) in my lamp’s light on my study table!

Thank you Enya, once again!

May it be an evening star,

Shien star upon you,

May it be when darkness falls,

Your heart will be true,

You walk a lonely road,

Oh! how far you are from home…….

Believe and you will find your way……

Picture Clicked by me: Locale: Diu

PS: My url is now same as before. i.e. aakritimalik.blogspot.com. Pls make the required changes on ur dashboard. Thanks to you. 

From You to Me, and from Me to you...

As I tried delving in the depths of her trauma, she almost gave me another blow, perhaps like what life had given to her just as she would attempt getting used to one. She told me that “true exile was a condition of terminal loss”. I looked at her with eyes filled with shock and pain. Speechless as was I, her eyes still moist, I tried my best to gather myself. I came forward in my chair and held her hands in mine. As I did that, we both looked into each other’s eyes, almost as if our arms enwrapped the other in a warm solace. The silence at that moment was of utmost value. Almost bitter- sweet, it conveyed to me how brave a lady she had emerged. When one comes across people who have lived through the most jolting of life events, a myriad of affects are felt. Other than feeling grateful for our own life, we feel naïve at the same time for not having seen in life what they have. One also wonders then the capacity a human has to ‘search meaning in life’. As I listened through Naila’s words, I felt near yet distant at the same time. She brought me near to my own moments of surface happiness; for I wondered in such moments how much despair did I carry within. In such moments I often found myself receding from smiles and laughter, questioning how real they were. The distance between us came naturally so, owing to the events she had seen in contrast to mine. This distance perhaps could have been bridged in a case where the events I had lived had as much intensity as those experienced by her. Yet to call an event a trauma is a difficult task, for each has its own effect and affect. With respect to Naila, perhaps my own so called ‘traumatic events’ fell short of the definition ‘traumatic’. But listening to her made me feel that we all have some or the other kind of empty spaces in us which when in sync with others get filled in their own mysterious ways. These spaces do not get filled up, never to remain empty again; rather they come closer to that of the other. Perhaps in subtle moments of feeling connected with the pained other; it is one’s own empty space that unites with the empty space of the other.

Through her narrative, I recalled an interaction with a friend of mine. It was my first one- to- one interaction with her. That day, unlike from what I had expected, she ended up sharing personal memoirs of her life, and I, much to my surprise, remained a listener. This friend, for the first time in many years, showed me my capacity to listen and with-hold all that she had to share. I also recollected my very intense and overwhelming interaction with one of the patient’s family member during my field work. That day instinctively I felt as if I was meant to be there and listen her pour her heart out. I hardly spoke few words, that too of reassurance as I ended my talk with her. But I clearly remember feeling full till brim sans any space left for extra input. This moment of recalling my moments of strength felt as if Naila unconsciously communicated to me that I was not as weak as I thought. With a blur in my eyes, and the past alive in her eyes, we exchanged a short smile, letting each other know we had come a long way and had a long way to go.

Naila shared experiences which had never been imagined by me. Maybe in times of grave adversity do we know who we really are and can strive to be. Often when one thinks of being in no man’s land, the image of that small patch between two countries, belonging to neither of them comes to mind. Here was Naila who experienced being there for she neither had French culture as inherent, and the one which she did inherit ( i.e. the Lebanese culture) was too distant from her {when she said “ But it meant, and I did not see it then, to be ‘between’ cultures and into none”}.

I have often thought of identity as being something that leads a person in life. But when the environment from the very beginning has been an unstable one, finding even a single anchor to hold onto seems essentially significant to help that person define who one is. Naila tells me that she had begun to build her identity as an exile. For her ‘home’ began and ended with her family and people who were humane amidst the madness that the others lived out in her country. It was then she brought the ironies. She said it was the stability and safety she felt in her home that allowed her to lead an interesting nomadic life and prevented her to stick to one place or for that matter think of a future. Thinking of her being a nomad brought her ‘solitary journey’ from one country to another into perspective, as I contrasted it to travelling for the sake of exploring something new. Here was Neila in search of her identity, if not roots, as she led a life of a refugee. As for her future, I wondered, then, what was future without any dreams and if she had stopped dreaming at that age. At the same time I thought about the beauty of ironies. As much as ironies always felt musical to me, they also felt too deep and distant. For me, the more difficult an irony was to comprehend, the more painful and musical it was to ears. It was in this instance, that she sang these words “My future lay somewhere behind me in an idealized past.” As she finished her music, I found myself looking at her beautiful face with awe, for words with such depth come out only after having lived something intense. With these words, she almost changed the direction of time and her life. It was in her past she saw her future, one that could be idealized; and because she considered it as ‘her right to refuse to belong’ it felt as if the past memories were all that she had to treasure and live from.

URL ISSUES: V.imp

Hola.....everyone....

As suggested by some of my bloggy friends, it seems this blog had lost it's life for a while...I'm living...but it's time to be ALIVE.!!! But well when life kicks you on the butt so hard that you can't get up, it takes time....right??

Anyway, so here's giving u a notice...

I'm reverting back to my old url i.e. aakritimalik.blogspot.com.  in another 2 days. Please, so make the required changes if you so love Yarn of ~ words..More so...I need all that love of yours. Buckets full of it to pick me up:)
To all my new bloggy friends...I hope I'm not askign much from you...jsut a url change on ur dashboard to have you here:)
Happy Weekend!

The fire...that burns

 As the unconscious stirs itself, opening the many channels to seek itself out in conscious, a whirlwind gets created in the process. It creates a havoc ravaging the steady trees, the used to be living life, the routines get uprooted, and amidst the tornado, the anger seethes into the self and other's being. The open pours of the unconscious get burnt by this acid called anger!
How does the fire extinguishes  itself, for if left alone, it will burn till it lasts. Someone throw water on her, gallons maybe needed. The fire is hot, can burn you up easily, might even eat.
And if you ask the cause of this fire, there are many. Perhaps then, its best to leave the fire by itself; when no being wishes to come near it, it' ll soon learn that hotness is not the only thing to be, for being involves living with others, listening to them; knowing, that she is not the ONLY one to live.
This fire is lonely. Has a lot in her. Some do understand her, for it was through them that she emerged. others, well can't say much about her. She has never spread herself too much to let others know about her. A quiet seething fire. That's her!
The giver of that fire said "You may not have anyone besides you, for the hotness you carry can burn anyone into ashes". That moment, she quietened down, knowing the words she heard were bitter truth of her life.
This beauty of fire was enrapturing. She could enamour anyone. Her charm, poise, love, warmth all exuded her vitality. She was a loyal one, giving, caring, helping. For those whose life felt like cold barren desert, she brought that life, for her flame was enough to rekindle their lost spirit.
But, in the path of life, she was amidst a crowd, yet lonely. Where was her being? Who had she become? Never ever had she been so hot. The rage, the fury began to eat her up now. It was irksome. She had often thought of giving up on life. Death perhaps could be more peaceful;  knowing that she was no more a pain to others brought with it an assurance that their lives would be more smooth. But then in this world of elements, she was not the only one. Like in the people world, here too existed relationships, just the forms varied. She had spent years trying to be patient, but to no avail. The world was changing and no one was ready to accept her for her hotness, no matter she was 'a fire'.
All fires are not hot, filled with rage and fury. This one was at unrest. Talking perhaps was no substitute, could be, but she unaware. There are matters in life in which we are our own saviours. Same went for her. She had began to hate herself for the fire she had become. All the elements had values. Her's were getting eroded and worn off. It was time to help. Her 'self' weeped and cried for the knowing hurt she had caused to others. The burns invisible, yet there. She saw them.

She was a young fire, one who had never ventured out much. Wanting to do, but the invisible chains stopped her. Tired of being what she had been, wanting to give up all that ruined what she was. If being a fire was a curse, then it was better to be silent. To absorb the bitterness, to take all that she had given in return. Yes... It was time...