In dodo's head

tran·scend tran(t)ˈsend/ verb past tense:  transcended ; past participle:  transcended be or go beyond the range or limits of (something abstract, typically a conceptual field or division). As time tick tocks, and the dusk of my time to pick and choose a career slowly appears on the horizon, 'well wishers (who knows if they are really well wishers..) come, ringing bells of alarm; 'make her give the UPSC, make her give the MPSC' they say, in concerned voices.. And then my mother, BemWeary, replies with a sigh, and then attaches a verb to me, that seems to explain it all- Oh I don't know, she is really transcended.. After having heard it for half a decade or so, it is one of those verbs I would use to describe myself if anybody asked me to do so..  It's hard to really understand how I got to this state of transcendence.. Was it after years and years of living in denial; does it stem from my immune system trying to quell the simmering pan...

the mind is a strange thing, needing to be replenished every now and then with fresh sprinkles of hope and sparks of passion in order to survive. bleak hopelessness overpowers souls with every passing wave of time. I have become a grave of my once youthful energetic self- there was a time when I felt invincible, overflowing with ideas and illusions of how I would shine. and now all that is left are doubts. strangers look to me, polite smiles in place, and ask about life plans and goals. I fear my own answer, and have chosen the path of 'figuring out life' with a silly smile to numb the overwhelming feeling of failure. time races past my struggling self, with each passing tide I struggle to make sense of all that I am and all that I wish to be. there's still a flickering warmth inside, awakened once a while by well wishers who see me as more that what I seem, they once saw the light in me, and even now strain their eyes to catch a glimpse again. I flip t...

This world tires me, with all its bullshit about optimism and passion, and the need for chasing one's dreams. The world's manuals rant about how the universe conspires to give us what we want and how we are all special and we are here for a reason and blah blah blah. And yet, there are many like me, filled to the brim with doubts. No answers, only questions. Many, seduced by the colourful hues of hope and the invincibility of dreams, often forget how harsh this rainbow-shitting world can be. How it is only one in every hundred dreams that is fulfilled. The remaining ninety nine turn to dust, floating around, wishing to be heard; brushed off from trophies and laurels that grace the abodes of the victors. The truth of the matter is- no one gives a crap about the zillion tea sellers in India, and when a man comes to power claiming to be an ex-tea seller, the world's never diminishing ego swells- they scream themselves hoarse- "Look here, see what we did- we made a tea...