An Enthralling Experience

Valley. Deep. Arch bridge. Walk. Fear. Turn back. Music. Dance. Cheering. Push. Jump. Fall. Suspension. Exhilaration. Upside down. Swing. Bounce. Thrill. Pull. Up. Rejoice.

That moment of excitement and butterflies gushing about in my stomach when I was being harnessed at View Point, overlooking the deep, enticing and lush green valley. Then the walk, on an arch bridge, almost hanging in air, several metres above. I didn't dare to look down. If I did, the valley would conveniently swallow me as a whole.

A 5 min walk and I-can’t-go-back-but-I’m-scared-as-hell chanting brought me to what I then perceived as Death Point- A platform from where I would take off to be gobbled up by the lake and forest awaiting below.

And then, the jump, rather, the 5-4-3-2-1-Bungee! push that sent me gliding downwards like an amateur Superman. After a few seconds of free fall, with a mixture of fear and prayerfulness, I opened my eyes and experienced the force of gravity like never before. I was literally tumbling down in open air, didn't know how far I would go (or rather, if I would ever stop falling), all on the mercy of a single rope tied to my ankle which ensured I was completely upside down- like a statue of Christ on the Cross rotated 180 degrees.


Before I could realize that I’d stopped falling downwards, some law of physics pulled me up a little and I found myself bouncing like a wave. All this while, in addition to now enjoying the view, I hoped that my foot wouldn’t slip off my shoe- owing to the absurd position of both- me and the rope.

When I finally stopped worrying, I felt my blood gushing down towards my head. So, I decided to just focus my attention on admiring the natural beauty around me from an angle that I don’t get to see everyday.

And then, the filmy part- where a trainer comes down on a rope, “rescues” me from abnormal blood circulation, and ensures that I reach up to give my dad a big hug, in one piece.

Aditi :)

Writer's Block

I’m going through a writer’s block at the moment. That is really ironic considering the fact that I claim to always have something to write about.  In fact, I have a fifteen minute discussion with Aditi about all she could write about almost every time we talk over the phone. [She’s coming back from South Africa and will finally have something concrete to write about (Her words, not mine!)]

So why does a writer’s block exist? Ever heard of a doctors or an engineer’s block? No. It’s always lucky writers. I think that is because writing is a creative profession. It requires creativity every moment. Like an artist could copy something from the living with a few twists, but if I sit to pen down my thoughts, they have to be original. The brain must be working like clockwork and thinking of the randomest things it can. I personally think that the idea of J. K. Rowling’s All Flavour Beans was genius. So were all the ways she named everyone – making Potter a surname, Dumble+Door, Serious Black (who is actually not at all serious or black either). But I digress as I always do.

Let us come to the question of what exactly a writer’s block is. You could take it literally – a block that stands in the middle of your head, not letting you think of anything worthwhile. Or metaphorically, which basically means not letting you think of anything worthwhile too. This very second, I could start off a rant about boredom or of how awfully hot it is. Perhaps the mangoes could be the next theme for a ballad and the sunglasses lying on the table object for haiku….

“Red sunglasses shout,

Abki Baar Modi Sarkaar;

Congress leaders pout.”

But you must have realised already, that a haiku about sunglasses is just a waste of time and certainly nothing that catches your interest.

So how does one take this block out of his head, tackle it down to the ground and bury it six feet under? One way could be writing about it in the first place and talking about how much having a writer’s block sucks. But honestly? You could write about anything – what you did in the day, how your neighbour’s dog peed on the tyre of your cycle, parents bragging about their kid’s exam results, the pattern of the sea waves or even the hot guy who was there at the park. After all, you’re the story weaver. It’s your job to make relatively normal things interesting.

I could tell you that the safety pin which you threw away somewhere in the drawer a couple of days ago was Queen Elizabeth’s. And you may not believe me (unless I have a degree in such stuff) but you’ll still go and find it. And suddenly, that normal safety pin is much more interesting.

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Btw, the next post I'm writing is going to be on puzzles and solving the Rubik's cube..so here's one to get those brain cells moving! Comment if you have any guesses!

Stephen was looking at a photo. Someone asked him, "Whose picture are you looking at?" He replied: "I don't have any brother or sister, but this man's father is my father's son." So, whose picture was Stephen looking at?

Till then folks!
Kanksha :)

Maybe this post wasn't one of the best, but I just had to write something, I guess. I think the next one is going to be interesting as I'm going to try and learn how to solve the cube myself too.. Thanks for reading guys!

No Excuse for Abuse

Behind a couple holding hands,

There may be a death glare and blade,

Underneath the well practised plastered smile,

Could be heaps of sorrow and pain.

A socialising stranger's peace offering,

Could be laced with poison or drugs,

Looking sweet and wrapped up in a package of delight -

He may be handing it over to you with a hug.

Perhaps the girl you saw in class yesterday,

Is being abused at home all alone,

Using concealer and covering her wounds tactfully,

She keeps her head low staying in her personal zone.

Those who aren't strong willed enough,

Give up the fight before it has even begun.

Suicidal tendencies start erupting gradually,

And indirectly, the monster has already won.

Have you picked up a newspaper recently? Do you realise how many people are victims of abuse? Be it physical, emotional or sexual? It is disappointing how teenagers today take their life just because of peer pressure or the tingling in their stomach called love when people face horrors one can't even begin to think of. 

There is no excuse for abuse. And worst part is that we still can't put an end to it. Victims could be anywhere and anyone. Identifying them is extremely difficult. A handful of people who know such victims tend to let it go, convincing themselves that it isn't their business. They don't want to get involved either because they're scared themselves or because they feel it's a waste of time. But you're talking about life here - future lives of one or more people. The effects of abuse are lifelong, creating trust issues and wrecking a person's self esteem and confidence. It makes them insecure and wary of the world. It should be a privilege in fact, and not compulsion to help them out!

People are wronged everyday,

All they need is unconditional moral support,

Somebody to confide in and trust,

To bring a happy ending to their story's inhuman plot.

Kanksha.

If you know someone going through hell, help him/her rush through the journey and come out of it victorious.

And as always, thanks for reading!