ArHI SS: RSVP: The End. 10/April [Complete]

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greenteaholic

@greenteaholic

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+ 2

Posted: 11 years ago

Sometimes one starts a conversation because of the sheer pressure of the situation. Sometimes there is a huge pressure building behind unsaid words boiling under skin over the years. Sometimes its a knee jerk reaction due to the spot light one find themselves under.

And very rarely or specifically in Khushi's case its utter sheer out-of-my-skull boredom.

A spark rises to a fire and in that fire...well, not a lot happens really. A heart gets mended, a heart gets fixed, rough edges smooths and in the end, life really begins.

A simple story, really.

01. Chapter 01- Page 01
02. Chapter 02 - Page 03
03. Chapter 03 - Page 07
04. Chapter 04 - Page 09
05. Chapter 05 - Page 11
06. The End - Page 12

Thanks Lahari / Mitra for the banner.

Edited by greenteaholic - 11 years ago

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greenteaholic

@greenteaholic

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+ 2

Posted: 11 years ago

Chapter I

Is there such a thing as anxiety born out of boredom? Or is my head trying to come up with random shit to look cool?

The red plump of her lips leave a scalding stain on the plain white cigarette stub and for a fleeting moment I am mesmerized by the calmness behind her eyes where the eyeliner is smudged when his lips touched them, while whispering a poem made of three lines and words like silver bullets. You stare at your reflection in the vortex of her dimples and the stubble burn on her neck is your private signature.

Yes, I have sort of a thing for run on sentences and over pretty-fying (is that a word? If not, its mine. I coined it. Totally me.) plain old stuff because. I think its practically a necessity for a person to carry shit load of teenage angst well into their 30s to write angst-y or cutesy or stupidly philosophical stuff or have some sort of tragic or angsty back story to make their adult life sound more experienced. And this is where I have a massive problem. I am an ordinary person who had an ordimary and plain childhood and my teenage years were spent watching bad 90s movies on local cable channel (the guy played movies using pirated video cassette shot in local theater. It was a world before youtube and piratebay and netflix and bajillion movie channels on TV.) and doing homework. College was pretty much the same and the work experience that followed wasn't something I can start wax poetry about.

I remember asking my english teacher what made people go for poetry. She said "feelings". I had feelings. I had so many feelings. But the words I wrote were flat. They had no zing or punch or the kind of weight that would punch you in the gut or hammer your heart. The monstrosity of my head with all its pent up knowledge of words and word arrangement was suddenly stupidly empty. After three tries, I was okay with my inability to not being able to mimic Emily Dickenson or the girl who sits three rows behind me. Whatever.

But that's not the point. I mean this is not the point. The point I was trying to make was, well, its alright. Shit happens. So we got rejected by a pretty huge firm. Do you know what this reminds me of? Autumn leaves. The ones that get scattered on the road, unpicked by nerdy kids or romantic saps to give them sort of eternal glory by pressing between pages of book or waxing it and sticking on a card. These leaves stick around rustling in the evening breeze or occasional (and bloody unexpected) showers rolling on the road when the breeze gets tad personal with them or just getting squished between mud and rock and car tires. (insert shrug here. because.) As the autumn comes close to winter these leaves are forgotten entities - or it seems so superficially but they have all gone underground and doing something awesome. Like rotting. Yeah, its awesome because of the potential it poses come spring and the fact that autumn is like natural cleanser. Its nature's housekeeping. So we are in that position at the moment. Like a tree with some green leaves and some leaves about to fall. The fallen ones are given an opportunity to go underground and redeem themselves. Or they can just swept away or squished under car tyres and lay forgotten.

Its alright to be rejected. Okay, it was millions of dollars not flowing to us. But still. Think autumn leaves. Think housekeeping. Think how this is an endurance test. Or rather don't think. Just let this one be. Lets wait and see if this failure brings changes. Failures almost most definitely bring changes. That's how people learn. Well that's also how people screw you over but let's not go there.

So the thing is Mr. Raizada, I am bored in this meeting where the man who is currently yammering non-stop doesn't know f**k about what went wrong is telling all the department heads and senior folks how we screwed up this deal.

Mr. Raizada, you look tired and you look like you want to kill at least 3.4 people. So here is a one time offer: take the world off your shoulders and put it on mine.

I am told I have awesome balance. And nice shoulders.

- K (the person sitting three chairs on your left and have a manic look in her eyes.)

Edited by greenteaholic - 11 years ago

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meera30

@meera30

Dazzler

+ 7

Posted: 11 years ago

Thank you. You have NO idea - how much I could use your writing at the moment :D

Be back later!

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Edited by meera30 - 11 years ago

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-Mitra

@-Mitra

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Posted: 11 years ago

You know what I'm going to write in this post, right?

RSVP

And you know why I wrote that, right?

Randomness becomes her!

Edited by -Mitra - 11 years ago

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Polkadots78

@Polkadots78

Inactive

Posted: 11 years ago

I could just see those leaves..rust colored or completely brown.. veins sticking out like the rib cage of an ill-fed cow (yeah I see a lot of them where I live and travel to)..floating in the unexpected shower or clinging briefly to the tires of an unsuspecting car, before becoming one with the slushy roads or the crumbly tar..

I could read about those leaves for another 2-3 pages..well! because you wrote them obviously!!

Funny you wrote those lines about words in poetry falling flat..I tried my hand at shayari today because as you said thoughts were crawling under my skin and I had to at least attempt to put words to them..and since I was a little buzzed (😛) Shayari seemed like a very good idea. The end result though, was flat as the American midwest..

What I do realize is that even if I cannot spout poetry I definitely can appreciate brilliance in other people's writing..Can't wait to read more!!

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Kalyaani B Rao

@Kalyaani

Stunner

+ 6

Posted: 11 years ago

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StripePurple

@StripePurple

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Posted: 11 years ago

I'm here. :)

It is strange that you wrote about fallen leaves. I was just looking at this photograph I took a few months ago, of a fallen leaf, what else, and wanted to do something with it. And then here comes this. Like I said, strange.

Khushi offers to be Arnav's personal Atlas. Or she thinks she can be it, whatever. All with a manic look in her eyes. If I were any good at sketching, I would attempt to draw that arresting image. Slender shoulders voluntarily carrying the weight of someone else's world, all with this (anxious/bored/manic ???) glint in her eyes.

I don't know if that was your intention, but the first few, "over-prettified" lines were very amusing to me. Dear authoress, are you sitting in front of your computer screen and smirking at all of us while pulling some meta-shit? If it is so, I love you even more. 😆

I too am the ordinary person who cannot write poetry in spite of all these "feelings". I so need a surly-looking Raizada to pass notes to in office.

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vgedin

@vgedin

Rocker

+ 5

Posted: 11 years ago

Yay! I saw this early in the morning and I know now that my day is made 😃

Anxiety born from boredom. I think I know how that feels. Oh, and have I mentioned I love letters? And diary entries?

Also - what might be a couple of lines to somebody might be poetry to another. Allen Ginsberg knew that. I hope Khushi will learn that. And I also hope Mr. Raizada enjoys poetry. *wink!*

Welcome back!