What is Yours?

Jean-François (2009) from tom haugomat & bruno mangyoku on Vimeo.

You find yourself in an unimaginable spot, questions ruling your mind at every step of the way. You sit down, close your eyes and for a moment you try and dig through your memories to find out some good thoughts. You fail. 

You get up, wash your face, put on that mask which deceives everyone, everyday. You get along with the day. You work your heart out just to let those thoughts stay away from you. You overwork. But just when you thought you have made some headway, they strike back with vengeance. You are like the lone tree in a fierce storm, counting the moments down to the time you will be blown away.

A ticking bomb.

You get home, tired and rusted. Fumble your way through the lines of the diary, bringing out all the sad thoughts that made your lone journey back home unbearable. You curse yourself, for no apparent reasons. You flip through the pictures of your college life. You see the faces that were once all over you. 

Now gone.

You think you need to call someone up. You grab the phone, run down the phonebook. Even though you have hundreds of friends in your list, you still can't call a single person. You heave a sigh. Then mysteriously, an SMS pops up. Who is it again? Ah! The salary just got credited.

But you have no one to tell. Within a couple of days, you reckon, half of it will go on to pay up for rent and other stuffs. And the situation drags on. And then it hits you -

"What is mine?"

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You think of asking this to someone in a pathetic attempt to find some kind of revelation that may be you didn't even know. But then there is no one you can ask this for the very simple reason that no one else has been with you through and no one can suggest you anything as for the simple reason that they don't know any of it.

You have lent your ears countless times to those who needed you in their tough times, but they are now much gone. Your friends are eager to know about you through Facebook, but don't have the patience to withstand for a whole minute on a call. They are just too busy.

For a moment you wish you were alone to begin with. What's the point of having friends if they have to leave you some day? Are those friends yours forever? You and me both know the answer.

The answer to the seemingly simple question is this - No. Nothing is yours. You are a part of someone else's journey and so is someone to yours. Everything is momentary. It is much better to not bend down and lose the person than to do it and lose them anyway.

You will have your self respect. Nothing else. That is what stays with you till the last breath you take..and some memories. 

Probably.

Is Your Mind Clouded with Doubts?

Rêverie | a short film from Jaro Minne on Vimeo.

Before any step that you are trying to take, before any decision that you are about to make, you have this one little thing called - Doubt.

I personally believe having a doubt is a sheer waste of time. Doubting is preferred by many. There are people whom I meet almost daily who are often weighed down with so much doubt that a simple split-second decision takes them minutes. They believe having a doubt ensures a better decision. A decision without being given prior thought to may bounce back.

Fair enough.

But are we so unsure about our decision that we let doubt supersede us? Why are we always confusing between "giving a thought to" and "doubting"? Why has the fine line blurred?

You know where doubt does the worst of damages? No, not in just any other decision.

Doubt destroys relationships.

Relationships around us are crumbling like autumn leaves when they get crushed under our shoes. People, it seems, prefer doubting than the relationship itself.

When a person doubts the other, the other person undergoes tremendous stress. And this even fractures their relationship. People enter this vicious cycle and the relationship erodes away. But "doubt" doesn't leave a person after that relationship ends. It strengthens its vice like grip. The person begins doubting everyone of hatching this imaginary conspiracy against him/her. Those around him/her soon notice the "pushy" attitude and begin deserting that person.

My question is - Where is the happiness?

Doubt is just like fear - necessary, but only in small amounts. So, try and do justice to yourself.

I personally don't doubt anyone. Saves me the hassle. If they have to leave, sooner or later, they will.

So, you still doubt?

Being Urban

A Thousand Words from Ted Chung on Vimeo.

"They say what I've done; they don't know what I have been through."

I wake up that morning thinking about the dream I had last night, a broken dream. I look outside the window and I see the bright sunlight tearing down through the curtains; eyes still paining, wanting to sleep more. I look around, dazed and confused.

Was I supposed to wake up?

Books make up a corner just besides the computer. CDs strewn all over the floor along with the dress I wore last night. I sit on the edge of the bed, hands supporting the body on the bed-frame.

"No, I mustn't sleep now. That dream won't come back for sure."

I hear them on the other end of the hallway, talking about what they expected of me and what I had become - a failure.

Just an  ordinary day it is.

I search for my phone, and headphones as well. Few messages and a couple of missed calls greet me. I look at the messages first. The same ol' "life quotes" and "Rajini jokes".

Pfft. Bored.

I put on the headphones. PLAY. Rage Against the Machines begin pounding in my head. Just a feeble attempt at keeping the battery of thoughts away from crowding my mind. I see them arguing about something, pity I can't hear them. They see me and they stop. Someone says something to me. 

I head for the kitchen, make up a dark coffee. He comes and stands in front of me, she stand behind him. I pull down an ear bud to hear him speak. Speak?

Failure.

I take the baseline, put my headphones back on and head back to my room barely holding tears. I am angry, I am upset and Rage Against the Machine hits the Bridge.

I fall back on the bed, eyes fixed on the window, I can barely see the traffic now. I wipe my tears off to witness the summer sky.

Track changes. A romantic number.

Memories take me back to a time when dreams were a reality. Whenever I fell, I had someone to grab me by my arms.

But dreams do break apart.

It's time to put the mask on. It's time to play the "game" again;

I know one thing will eat me from within

But I am still alive, I am still breathing.

I am down, but not out!

No! You can't put words in my mouth;

I am still alive, I am still fighting

I am an urban guy baby, I am the smiling devil.

Dedicated to a friend....

(The work will/may showcase soon in an exhibition. So, I need your feedback! )