Switch Over

Discretionary Disclaimer:

The characters, places, events depicted in this articulate creation are purely fictional which are based on non fictional ideas & incidences. Any factual resemblance & relation, if found, to any of such characters, places, events has to be purely coincidental. Also due care has been taken while conceptualizing the connotations, nomenclatures & terminologies dealt while critically dissecting the insect of switching over from one form to another.

The pictorial representation, several content or otherwise depicted throughout the theme based in this articulate creation are for exemplary purpose & do not resemble any intentional connection to express switching over haphazardly nor any attempt of some ‘issued in public interest’ kindda stuff.

1. SwitchOver

It’s been indeed, around couple of months or so; for having scribbled down some strikingly theme based articulate creation. Without giving unscrupulous reasons & excuses of being bit busy playing with numbers & hardly left with any words to play with; & jumbling up into words, even further. Indeed diving in the world of words back, quite after a long time, seemed to be bit literally like scratching heads for puzzling out with words into bunch full of letters, sentences, paragraphs & so on….Let’s get back into the world of words & conveniently dive over with that insect of ‘switching over’ the theme of this articulate creation. When the king of loneliness struggles, to accidentally miss / & intentionally skip that U turn from dead end…. Reading from eyes is like hearing from lips & speaking through ears.

Just as the volcano of discussion, debate & all kindda productively unproductive platform for expressing opinion & suggestion; erupts from a single spark of flame, be it the word of arguments or even the ravenous curiosity to dig underneath. There’s just one such thought of ‘switchover’; & yet each such thought has repelling & refluxing energy. With every thought of ‘switchover’, crops countless thoughts; which weighs beyond the pros & cons, beyond ethics & practicalities; beyond good & evil, just as the sperm fights back to do miracles.… Not necessarily, all of these thoughts are to be considered, accepted or declined; in the name of giving a second thought.

Switchover is merely not about hunting feasible options, filtering & refining alternatives, scrapping out the odd ones; in the given circumstances & incidences. Going by the googled terminology of switch over; it’s all about change over, change by reversal, change around, as to a new order or sequence switch. Forms of transformation, makeover, trending, change, swapping are all the wings of switching over & moving on….

Enlisting all such trending instances & incidences from gadgets, apparels etc; from Chawl to High Rise Towers; shuffling & reshuffling job profiles; Jelly Bean to Sandvich; Kiraana Store to Malls & Multiplexes; Retro to Remix; 2G to 3G upgrades; Mobiz to Smartphone & Tabs; Specs to Lens…. Such endless & countless reasons behind the curtain, simply to switch over from Old to Newest Trend; with the quest to make the best outta it. The bargaining is undoubtedly & by all means on both sides. If not equally & rationally, yet, balancing & just playing with ownership, authority, responsibility indebtedness, gratitude & all sort of so-called professional termos.

2. SwitchOver Some say, believe & oblige that opportunity knocks the door once, but the destined fact behind the haunted curtains; lies that, there are countless lakhs of such opportunities knocking outta thousands of doors & ringing hundreds of bells. Yet just one & only key to the only locked door of destined fortune; is hidden under the doormat carved with determined efforts of gritty productive intentions.

At times, aspiring for something more, with bit of extra stuff (beyond DreamBig&FlyHigh); ought to get on to the nerves under the calcium powered bones. Creating ruckus & tantrums, within the brain cells, within nerves, veins, blood vessels, just anywhere & everywhere. Either it’s the classy multi colored butterflies called ‘commitment & determination’, which hovers around all over in the stomach, brain & mind, consciously & even sub consciously. Until the dark black clouds of hurdles & obstacles tends to supersede & gulp down the butterflies into stormy winds & whirl around on the ground of futility.

Stepping even the wrong foot, at the right place, at the very right fraction of second; seems to be aptly convincing; while rising back with thunderous bolt from the hell down under. It’s just merely something like rolling bare feet over scattered broken pebbles; while hunting an untraced & unknown path to walk over the finest of the marbles. Without much switching over the meaning & implications, striving & quest for that pinch full extra, even with handful of dwindling choco frappe in one hand & chocolate fudge in the other hand. Crossing by with the thin line of conspicuously coated & filled with hell lot of tricks, tactics; & disturbing the flow & line of action, to grab that blinking bright star right above the head of the moon; with the blend of efforts & destined fortune; with pinch of destiny & luck by chance. By & large, walking against the odds, pays a price, just as to walk with the crowd & think & act like a odd, has its own compensatory inversely direct relation of rewards & reverts too.

3. SwitchOver

Even when one bucks up & gets prepared from ins & outs; to face & tear out the full volume loudspeaker; even a silent tune playing in the tucked headsets soothes gives the signals & vibes, just to tune into the fine piece of strings & let the scrambled pieces fall in their places gradually. Having kicked back the fortune & destiny; there may be 100 reasons to stay back & stick onto the quivering & shuddering pebbles; at times with struggle, mind games or just like a lame automaton. But, at the same point of other side of the same coin, lies just 1 single reason to lure, mislead, tempt to shake everything 360 degree upside down.

The moment one accepts the blunder, of either sides of the tossed coin; one is just tempted & addicted to experiment more, so as to digest more excuses & reasons & broadening the extent of adjustment. That so-called adjustment of accepting & accommodating just anything & everything, with a flexible approach & attitude. For some, switching over & moving on is all about the ripened fruits of independence & freedom; for some it’s mixed vibes & feelings & while for rest others, it’s just blank emotions.

4. SwitchOver

To lose something, & to grab better & best things, moments; lies a timeless, yet time bound puzzle of known & unknown facets of life, destiny, & beyond unthinkable. Leaving behind that ‘something’ with a scratch, scathe or simply a mark.… which may not be barely visible to thyself….but becomes seemingly visible in the mirror. Without simply regretting, rejoicing, celebrating or even mourning; the spirit of moving on, deepens the intensity of purpose & intention of having switched over. Letting the unstable mind outta freaky options, choice, alternatives, substitutes, & complementary stuffs & so on. Stretching rubber band to such an extent & even beyond by exerting limitless pressure of expectations; to tear out into pieces of shattered opportunities, splintered hope, wrecked dreams, smashed emotions & lots more irreparable stuffs.

Knowing nothing & yet, the vibes of having a golden crown over & above some diamond studded crown…. Just as the sand particles filled with intense perseverance, pours down that tiny hole of targeted goals & streamlining the best of the possibilities, the countless waves flowing somewhere close or maybe far away; are unaware about even the boundless time swiping by naively….Leaving the royal golden spoon for some gold plated platter.

Without going much into intricacies & digging much more into the words. Coz, just even the thoughts & words are bouncing & wandering to sprout into new, fresh themes for countless articulate creations & explore the best into the world of words, in the near future & always!!….


PS: Having switched over, shuffled & reshuffled words & letters into sentences & paragraphs. Leaving on this note for now…. The journey to the world of numbers & words continues in the articulate creations to be born in the near future….


~Thank You~

Because I Cannot Speak

Name – the identity of oneself, isn’t it? But I don’t have one. No one has named me yet. People call me with whatever name comes out of their mouth. And believe me, I don’t mind it. I feel elated with each and every new name I’m christened with. All that matters to me is their love, the care and affection bound names they call me.

“Life is not about creating an identity but to be engraved in peoples’ heart as an unidentified one. Knowing you is not a big deal but yes holding a place in someone’s heart despite being an unidentified one surely is colossal.”

Sep 13th, 2013 : 6.00am:        I remember the very day I entered this college encompassed by forests, adorned with the best infrastructure and scenic beauty located in some remote part of Andhra Pradesh. I quite liked the place and the people- they are so benevolent. The kindest ones I have ever come across. I’m definitely not a student but a spectator of the pompous ambience prevailing there. I see a lot of things. Some are busy chatting, some gossiping, some bleating about professors, banging head over assignments, tests etc. But the fun, the bonding, the friendship is the spectrum I enjoy seeing.

More the moments you grumble, more the joy you crumble.”

Oct 27th, 2013 : 4.08 am:        It was dawn when my abdomen started getting cramps. I felt the convulsions across my body and I felt my spine cracking. I was groaning in the pain but none listened. No one saw me suffer. With all anguish I gushed my pain away. Yes, I was suffering from sheer pleasure. I just bore a baby. I’m a mother. That little tiny one I have is my baby. The smell of new born is still afresh. The tiny pink paws are closed and the beautiful eyes – oh! How can I forget? They are going to be open soon. My kid will see this beautiful world.

You have seen the world enough alone with your eyes. Now, see its time to see together.”

Oct 28th ,2013 : 11.15pm:                  It’s raining cats and dogs. I have nowhere to go. My kid is asleep getting drenched. I begged the rain to stop. Tears roll down my eyes blending with rain drops. But I’m helpless. I cuddled him tight under me to provide warmth and safeguard against any ailments. The rain is ceaseless and not a hint to pause. It’s been three days now. I haven’t had food for three days because I can’t afford to leave him alone. I’m famished and I feel chill rushing down my spine. I stand devastated.

Oct 31st, 2013 : 6.00am:                     The fourth day of my baby being born. The rain finally showed its mercy and stopped. I’m very happy seeing the sun light. The ray of hope sparked in me. My baby will not feel sick anymore. I exuded my happiness and gratitude to the almighty.

Oct 31st, 2013 : 11.45pm:                        My baby is sleeping. Still, his eyes are not opened. I’m truly getting impatient. “When will we see the world together?out of blue, I hear someone rustle. I’m fettered with fear. I clung my baby tight visualizing what it could be. And at the drop of a hat, I feel the agony around my neck. Tethered to a lasso I felt nauseated. I saw myself being dragged away from my baby. He is still lying there – whimpering. The rope choked me. I endured and pushed myself to limits to get back to him. I was dragged further. Blood oozed out of my nose. I tried further. I was whipped. Then I see a man’s hand picking my baby and putting into a trash bag. I wish I could kill him then right away. I couldn’t. I was intensely choked. I was bashed and thrown out of the institute.

Oct 31st, 2013 : 1.00pm:                      I managed to get up and still rummage all the trash bags to find my baby. I could find nothing. My baby is gone. He is lost. After striving for four hours I see pink paws of my baby. A thick book was piling on him. With all my might, I jostled to put that book away. It took all my strength. A struggle of half-an hour helped me win eventually. I’m happy. I found my baby. But, he is not whimpering. He is not breathing. He is not moving. They bloody killed him. Those dogcatchers murdered him.

Darkness all around. The joy of motherhood is gone and here again I stand alone. Just because I’m a dog, am I not allowed to have a happy motherhood? Just because I’m not strong enough, does it give a right to kill my baby? Does being a non-human means being thrown away like trash? I have never harmed anyone but have only loved. I’m deprived of my happiness, the feeling of being a mother just because I cannot speak?

“Every love pays a price. I paid mine.”

[Animals are spectacular creation by god. Let’s protect them. Let’s come together and help them survive. Animal cruelty is an utter disgrace. Let’s try to eradicate it. Let’s grow together.]

Malala : Destiny’s Own Child

“Malala, that man is looking at you, that man is looking at you! Cover your face! What are you doing? It’s disrespectful!” And I said, “Mom, I am also looking at them if they are looking at me!”

Words of a young lady of 16 draped in black as she goes on to unfold the memoirs of a recent past that brings a beaming smile on her charming young face.
Malala Yousafzai, born in the SWAT District of Pakistan has been deemed the most courageous woman alive. And we know why!!
Getting shot in the head by the Taliban and crawling back from the clutches of death.
Standing up and saying ‘I may be a li’l afraid of Ghosts, but Taliban. Never!’
Women as seen by the youth of today are at par with the men of the society.But is that all the woman we see. There lurking in every corner of this earth is a major chunk of flesh that happens to be born a girl, oppressed and deprived of the mere rights to move around with an exposed face, the rights to play, dance, get an education and for all that matters ripped off every right to be a human being with a desire.
Out of these frustrating endeavours in some corner of the Earth rose a gleam of hope; Malala; a rebel so powerful that even death had to bite the dust in front of her courage.
A girl like any other but with wisdom beyond her age. Malala was in favour of education for a girl child since early days as she agrees she was a competitive student.
At that time the Taliban militants had gradually started making their influence felt over the SWAT valley of Pakistan. Girls’ schools were banned and a thousand others dreams were shattered. In the need of the hour to expose the plight of the people under Taliban’s atrocities Malala started expressing her experiences in a blog for BBC.
The tiny flutters to break away from the shackles of the Taliban dominace was given wings by the western media as they swooped in to cash in on the moment.
Breaking all inhibitions the young lady took the war to the forefront. Openly expressing her ideas and supported by the media on each step as she catapulted the ideals of the idiosyncratic Taliban hypocrites into a logical one, the right to education was her motto.
The question now arises, did not the media know of the consequences of such a bold move,
Did not those who heaped praises, prizes on the young girl realize that she was but a li’l girl?
I think they did. I think the hype, the frenzy to bring this woman to the forefront as a rebel to fight for those many deprived souls comes down to that one bullet fired at her, which pierced through her head ,neck and ended in her shoulder, lying on the laps of death only one thing pulled her back to this world , hope!
Hope of 61 million deprived girls who cannot mouth their opinions, who cannot get the basic rights to be educated, I believe Malala knew what the consequences would be to be a rebel against such political and religious norms as the Taliban established to be. But most importantly she knew she was the hope of a million others. Some believe she is a pawn of the western media as a desperate attempt by the white people to justify the western imperialism as the perfect ideal.
But I feel she will live to tell another tale.
When asked why the Taliban bothered to reciprocate to her propagandas, she gives her reply with such a calm demeanour that knows no fear for she has seen death in the eyes and returned back smiling.
She explains that woman is a powerful entity, in fact more powerful and capable than any man can ever be, and that the Taliban knows this fact and fear the power of woman, so they are trying to uproot the root cause to subdue woman before they find a medium to opine their views, Education.
She aspires to be the Prime Minister of Pakistan someday and remove the crisis ridden state of her country.
As this lady Stands in front of a crowd of 500 at the United Nations, she has already captured the imagination of millions and as she delivers her speech with élan uncertain of how the future would unfold yet constantly vying with the atrocities of the society back home.
She delves into the unknown future with dreams and hopes and aspirations to make this world a better place and I pray she does succeed in her endeavour and by the time the world collapses I hope she has left the mark of her dreams in every eye.
If only Ozymandias was a Queen and P.B.Shelly still alive, she would have dedicated her most admired work to this brave heart.
So I end with an extract from Ozymandias, a tribute to the spirit of Malala
My name is Ozymandias, “King of Kings”:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”
Nothing besides remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

Move On

The Stars. The Sky. That Stone. That Bird. The Trees. That Dog. This Computer. Me.

If you shall search the odd one out from these in terms of the one who had been afraid of future always and the most, that will be solely Me. Yeah, the one who couldn’t even not think of not fearing the future. I have been horrified by the time beyond me enough so as to be not any more. Shit happens, time goes on, you move on. That’s it.

In the world of uncertainty, why be afraid of things that didn’t happen, and the ones which you can simply ignore so as not to even matter a bit. Late to think of it, even more late to realize. But again, better late than never.

Time shall be always an incredulous bitch. For a moment when your mind has deduced of every damn thing that shall happen, the exactly opposite happens. Blatant opposite. And right on your face. I don’t even know what I am writing about at this very moment, but let this be uncertain. For uncertainties, there exists happiness. For uncertainties there exists emotions, feelings. You wouldn’t be as happy or sad when something happens if you would have known of it already. Would you? Uncertainty is the key. Time is the lock. And the combination is called life. Philosophy, my ass.

- Read More -

The Rigged Game

The sun had not yet shone. But I was awake at the regular time. Maybe it was a long night, maybe I woke up sooner. The children were sleeping, and I mesmerized by the moment, decided to stay by them a little longer. The sun refused to show itself, and it was just dawn. I needed a little more sunlight, a little more brightness for my dimming eyes. Searching food has grown difficult. Time passed but the sun remained still, deep in its slumber, refusing to rise. Left with no more option, I got up, ready to go, for another monotonous day of my life. I had to go, and go fast, for the people rightly said, “The early bird catches the worm.”

After him, Life has been the same. I knew he would never stay, but love is not planned right? It happened. Those few days with him were heaven and soon enough, he went away. But going, gave me three beautiful children, the three reasons to live. - Read More -

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