Category Archives: Urban Chronicles

The Radio Diaries

A sip of tea, a splash of memories on the rhythm of the radio….

Call it an incident or a chance of luck that I stumbled upon a web page which has made all of my coming February 13s remarkable…

Besides being the 24 hours before the day when is Love set free, 13th February is also the World Radio Day. An international observance day like any other, made for granting due respect and recognition to a treasure that has already become a relic. But, this Radio Day is going to be special for me, now that I know why it’s not unimportant.

So why the radio? Probably because it has been a part of so “many first” experiences of people!

From the first music to the first moment of joyful togetherness, it has been the radio which has brought people closer to one another in forms so many that they can barely be counted. It was the radio which drove steps to the music…..

Radio is the most intimate and socially personal medium in the world.  — Harry Von Zell

But as I bring out my childhood friend this 13th February, there might not be my mother’s recognisable chatter or a reminiscent composition from the Past. Rather, there would be my mother’s ageing hand on mine and a glitter of tears in our eyes as we both relive the moments burdened in heaps of memories……

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The Reset Button: Can We Create One?

Taking a break from blogging was a necessary evil to find new things to feel and write about…But it isn’t always a humongous case of memorable feelings as an overwhelming emotion that brings us all to write and express…

When things come falling down upon us, our first response is lifting our hand up to seek help and lift off the weight on our chests…With no courage left to lift the weight any more, can we possibly continue to hold on while waiting for an external help? Would we give anything to reset that moment in time and prevent the weights from falling on us when we least expect it?

It is funny that while we can rewrite our realities on paper, we can seldom do that in real life. But should a “reset button” come our way, what would it do to alter our reality, especially when it connects so many others as well?

As far as I could look, I found that our reset button does not change realities as much as it changes us. With its single click, a discouraging word became a challenging provocation, a hopeless moment became an ambition full dream, and lost life became a redeemed promise of fulfillment…Interestingly, the only thing that changed was our feeling or our thought…After all, what else could change?

To Remember or Not…..

Life often times becomes obsessed with today and tomorrow. So much so, that it seems to be born everyday only to die day after and be born again. Then, might we say –

“All life is but a pursuit to evade the Past?”

As I walk through the pavements of my memory today, I encounter countless moments which have been resisted from remembrance – only to make me comfortable in my mind. Thus, naturally we do not recall the one time when we broke out in tears out of fear or lost someone out of one’s own selfishness or chose to ache an ailing heart because its bearer had done a mindless act offending our sensibilities.

The more I see, the more I know that in all my trysts with the Past, it is not the past itself which suffers. Rather the ghosts of people residing in it bear the violence for they have become frozen in time. As I choose to grudge against certain memories, I opt to lemmatise their agents, thereby gathering my power over the ghosts in the memory.

Yet, I forget that even today would become a memory tomorrow. And the people I meet today would be the ghosts I would want to freeze tomorrow….Just like I would become a ghost to forget tomorrow in the mind of a certain other who seems to be unimportant today…

So, do I choose to remember? Or do I opt to forget?

Knowing that my memory becomes the only gateway for someone to exist?


I must admit that I have come to this realisation after reading about the Award Winning Broadway Show “Dear Evan Hansen” (based on the book of the same name by Steven Levenson). It is indeed a very thought-provoking musical.

Has anyone watched it?!

Please, do let me know in the Comments Section…

 

Do We All Become Our Mothers?

What do we become? What becomes of “me” in the future?

It is a silent night as I am sitting with this question that has sprung out of my memory, relapsing from the thought of a movie I had seen quite back – In the end, do we all become our mothers?

My mother is a strong woman with determined thoughts. I for one am a passive person with a bundle of ideas for thoughts. Can I then ever meet up to become the person who has created me?

Generation gaps and ageing are two of the most common words teenagers and young adults use to cover up for their dissimilar ideas with their parents. It is quite agreeable that such an assertion saves the rejection of either; but it is also true that it does not accredit the unbreakable relation which the both share. Fortunately, our ancestor did not fail to recognize this ever lasting bond. So, if the Divine had created man in his image – Was I created in the image of my mother too?

As I wrote the last sentence, my mind was driven to Alice Walker’s book “In Search of Our Mother’s Garden”. This was not so because I find myself in the midst of the oceanic question – “Who has given me meaning?” –  but because a large part of me sits beside the very garden it searches and yet wanders to find purpose elsewhere.

So, can I agree that I am NOT my mother and in the end I might NOT become like her too; but in the journey which lies in between both – I am sure to become that half of her which could not come to be…….

Yet, isn’t that akin to saying – WE ALL BECOME OUR MOTHER’S MIRROR

 

Thank you for reading!

Let me know your thoughts about this question 🙂

The Case I Didn’t Know….

A myriad of thoughts wander through our brain as we pass the time of our day. From the moment we wake to the moment we lie down on our beds – we always persevere to think so that we have a world of our own where we can ease and be comfortable with ourselves. Have you ever wondered at the origins of these thoughts!?

Today as I sat reading a book, I came across a simple nine letter word which unconsciously drove me through a range of thoughts.

“Fireflies”

So, I lifted my head from my book and stared ahead – least recognizing the world that awaited outside for I was busy searching through my memory to find that very place where I had first recorded this word. From the title of a song – to a night time tale by my father – coming all the way from a poem I had composed years back, a painful encounter and a memory of a photographs…After considerable ease I was able to find the numerous traces of the single word. Yet, it wasn’t to end on that!

The traces pulled out pieces and the pieces joined together to form fragments that had been left off from some tapestry of a memorable day. The book was not closed and in a matter of minutes, the bounds of the word “fireflies” had drifted away smoothly to expose an arena of escaping recollections.

After a couple of minutes (in the real world) and a tiresome era of battle (in the field of my memories) when I opened my eyes to my book the word seemed to become absolutely alien to its text. As an intriguing case, it stood out to my eyes as a relic of my now irretrievable thought……

And there again I sat investigating – “FIREFLIES, doesn’t that word ring a bell?”

Now if you might ask – Was I able to ransack the escapes?

I shall have to say – I seldom remember….but it must have been a “glow-rious” fight

The Mysterious World of Idyllic “Eye”-dentities

Have you ever taken the time to look for a person’s eyes? SO much of the truth is reflected on a face, yet the little of the soul in the eyes is the real picture! Have you found the outline of this very real portrait ever?

Of all the days in the world which pass away almost as easily as they are begotten, today woke up with the same bland notoriety to me. And it wasn’t until I stole a moment to look at the beggar I found daily by the footpath, that I slipped into a “World of its own”. The glowing, expectant eyes of the man on the torn rag made me wonder about the vibrant emotions that they prompted in me. While I sensed a glimpse of happiness, I also found trails of questions, a silent request and a ghost of a smile awaiting to be found…

Could there be a more peculiar combination?

Never could I imagine that the damp black of an eye could reflect such a fusion of numerous other colors. As I rewrote that introspective moment in my mind again and again, I was astonished to find the darkness burst open with such a huge number of colors that evolved separately as I delved deeper, only to fuse with my horizons…..

Could there be a more intriguing case of enchantment?

As I traveled through the common performances of my day, the “World of Eyes” opened itself to me more and more. In the glistening charm of a child’s eyes, the excited iris’ of the street dog, and the blinding darkness of a strangers’ view – I curated every portrait with equal curiosity… Until I returned home to find myself in front of the mirror….

With the contracted pupil, outstretching iris and amazed eye, I looked in myself…

Only to find an incomplete puzzle with missing pieces…