So far this deepavali has been marked by controversy on Crackers and pollution (whereas there is still a confusion on whether pollution is to be regarded on the basis of caste, I aint a better judge of that, after all I am a citizen of the geographical area that was termed previously S(H)ind). This deepavali has also witnessed many more cries on statements by actors doing their job and the impact of a misunderstanding on personal views from performance for a living. Continue reading “Yet another blog !!!”
Her Wait of Identity
Waiting for her turn, Anvika starts recollecting the road to nowhere. Having travelled all the way from her native to this prestigious institution, Anvika is waiting for the final say to decide on what she is now. The journey started with the ominous signs of the chirping birds and waging tails. The highways lined with trees spreading their gloomy embrace in cool shades. The hired car joining in her search for identity.
After silent hours of moving landscapes, lies her final resort that shall certify her presence. Among the gallery of people in search of hope, here is Anvika with none left but for the ever-increasing feeling of frustration. ‘I don’t belong here! But I am, and there is nothing to do about it!’ voicing her anxiety were her eyes. Reaching the serpentine queue which seem to be inching slower than a snail, Anvika waits realizing that she now in her final phase of being validated.
Helpless. Lost. Angry. Frightened. Emotions tumbling like the great waves of destruction, Anvika wipes the tears that gleam over her wrinkled cheeks. Anvika, Mother of the American Citizen, Widow of the Disciplined Soldier, Daughter of the Unknown Landlord, Orphan of the Materialistic Fate, waits for her turn to be examined for the gateway pass to paid care and nursed lodging in the search for that Last Breathe.
Hiding the scars of her life and adjusting the dials of her only Precious HMT out of habit, Anvika is the focus of all the curious stares and looks of pity, irking her. Agonising her. Physical pain is far easier to bear than mental agony. Bearing anguish in the face and a look of constant worry in her eyes, she reminds of the notices stuck on the roadside walls.
No one to comfort. Helpless. Beyond caring. Anvika waits for her turn. From Secretary of the Arts Association to the invisible resident of the roadside trash can, Anvika has seen it all. All she did was be loyal to her conscience and loving like no other. The pathetic, helpless situation wants her to make her prove yet again how she is better than all. But it seems like somebody had stuffed a cloth in her mouth, preventing her to talk. Reality sinks in and she finds herself wanting to get admitted in the mental institute for she is just a patient, just a nobody.
– to be continued 🙂