Wordwebs!

She decided that she won't write about the voice for a while but this part of hers was the only thing that she always wavered on. What was the voice to her? To be precise, the voice was her own part, something that came from within, something that was in her, in part, in full. So much are they intertwined that whenever the voice used to be emotional, she could feel it right in her. But the voice has build a bridge between hearts with a door on it and closes it every now and then, and the door is opaque so she cannot see anything but the heat and the cold passes through that door and keeps freezing and warming her heart. Maybe its one way, that the rising and dropping temperatures of emotions pass from the side of the voice and move towards her, its sometimes a breeze sometimes a typhoon... Whenever that door is open, there is so much light, warmth, tickles and suddenly the door starts to close, the creaks of it can be felt in the Voice, when words turn to monosyllables and ruder ...

Yesterday, once again she and the voice flowed, flowed about this flowed about that. This time she was a little less conscious of the words she was choosing to talk to the voice as the system in her is automatically adjusting to that setting where the words are consciously chosen but yes she was faltering at times and then she quickly corrected the words. A few times, unlike other days, she asked him to hear her completely as the voice always continued to say what the voice wanted to and most of the times made it a point that she agreed to the opinion of the voice. There are always these moments when she talks to the voice where she travels back to certain times with the projection of certain images to her brain connected to events (which could have turned to moments). Things that she hated to do, still went ahead to do as she thought the voice would like it and maybe, just maybe this time the voice will be cordial, will talk properly without criticising her that she didn't do thi...

How many times do we ignore the calls of our parents due to ongoing meetings, get-together or whatever has caught us up at that time? At least in India there are curfew timings and when the clock is hovering around that time the phone calls from Mom start pouring in as to where we are, when we are returning and so on. And, to be frank, it bothers me too when I am out with my friends and despite informing at home that 'I will be late', after a certain point of time my phone starts buzzing with 'Maa ka phone aaya'. Most of the times, I am irritated with the constant prodding, I guess this is one thing that always bothers me, no matter who asks me this, about my whereabouts and what time will i return and blah blah. But while introspecting I realise the fear that my mother must be having, about me being safe, laughing and enjoying as for her also she took a leap for me to let me live my life on my own terms. She has given me the freedom but the social conditions have not ...

There are various movements that spring up and then stay and fizzle.. Reminds me of one of my lectures that I gave to my students about how a social movement takes form and reaches its peak and then quietens, maybe fizzles maybe suppressed or maybe people got bored of that in fashion theme. I had thoroughly enjoyed reading for that lecture.. Why am i talking about social movements all of a sudden? M I jumping on any bandwagon as I was feeling left out or my social media page doesn't boast of a content that is in fashion? Well, I had first acknowledged the fact that Hollywood was open and out about 'Times Up' and 'MeToo' and how much we needed it and it did happen when Tanushree Dutta spoke about her ordeal. But then we had this human caricature come out do what she does best, drama, created a mockery of the movement, without realising how crucial it was for each and every one of us alive, today being knocked out in a wrestling game. Sometimes I wonder all the plast...

And the phone rang when she had switched it on from aeroplane mode to give a final check at the whatsapps and sms's and missed calls. Before the night befell, the light of the screen created a dawn. Looking at the unknown number she picked it but the voice was not unknown, it was a voice well acquainted to, well adapted to, a voice that she heard almost everyday in her mind. After staying speechless for a while, because the mind started to find the correct choice of words, came a belated wish of a festival. Conversation started with the hows to whats to whens and it just flowed. Flowed but the mind was constantly conscious of the words to use lest it irked the voice on the phone, lest it invited a situation she had to explain using more words, creating more irritation for the voice. Somethings made her choke, somethings made her numb, somethings made her quiet, but the girly giggles continued. A few updates by her and the usual 'I m too busy' from the voice, the conversati...