10/10?- Creating personal theories while dreaming.

​A conversation that I ran through my head while taking a great nap, grabbed by attention and I tried my best to relive that talk here.

What if you were perfect in every moment of your life? You had it all together, getting those straight A’s in life. Just a life full of tick marks on that ‘to-do list’. Or instead, you were a flip to this? Being hardly any productive to achieve things. According to me, both these sides of the coin can challenge the ability  to grow in you. 

But let’s think practically, if you’re living these last days of your teenage years, you’re probably finding solutions to different kinds of hangover, figuring out your talents, getting to know a variety of people or travelling for exposure. And if you’re at the stage, ‘struggling with adulthood’, you’re just simply paying your bills, changing nappies, watching your puppies grow into dogs and learning new technology everyday. Life at these stages for a 21st century chap is a difficult task to balance well and coping with that requires one’s full attention. So I don’t blame you, if you get distracted from being the ultimate 10/10 in life.

Perhaps I discouraged your confidence to slay in life, in those lines above and that leads to further expand this monologue in my sleep. 

 That is some bs thinking, how is not being ‘No.1’, a better way of life? 

personally think, growth and change are the most important aspect for an individual to work upon. If you see a rising arrow in the graph of ‘achieving goals’, it’s a sign of progress. It’s necessary to cross every bridge of obstacle that comes along your way.

Failing those first few papers in your college days, then slowly being average at those subjects and finally, finding your apple bottom with the nerds of your class or doing the whole ‘chai-sutta’ (reference to the Indian version of making acquaintances) with your new colleague at work initially in your 20’s and then being your daughter’s hero and working hard to keep that up. What a wonderful way to live right? You get to face the changes that come along while you improve towards the better and there’s never a full stop, a life of adventure. Change is always good no matter how well your achievements and goals satisfy you at a point in your life. Moving forward and working towards the next step keeps you going and makes you encounter a new day,everyday and that, can be a source of happiness. You’ll always have an aim to sweat for and that’s life worth living. 
~A famous Chinese proverb

Standing still at any level of your life is the most dangerous way to kill the fun of living. Being the best at everything can take away rejoicing small steps that build who you are today and who’ll be different tomorrow.


Aatira Kakroo

Taken by the Devil

she walked through the door

at a pace of lightening

and I, not knowing what to expect

from this ending

as I saw her leave

I could feel my heartbeat

pump like the first

time from our meet

I remember thinking

to save her only for myself

and protecting her from the Satan

I knew I’d be a good daddy

I’ll guide her through lantern

I knew I would do anything

to keep this baby from dismay

but where did I go wrong

now all I could do was frown

didn’t I know it was coming

how could I stop it from happening

my angel was in devil’s

number one list

was she so good that she made it

to his hit list

I need to bring her back

to see her smile like she did

behind my back

all I know she deserved to be the

God’s child and not the one in disguise

love, come back I’ll keep you

away from the nightmares and bring

you a world full of daydreams

don’t you wish to have what I have

or was it never there lad

I want to tell you about the

world that sees no King of Hell

and does not pray to the devil

baby, didn’t I give you

a life full of blessings and

where the skies were blue

sweet child, is your life now dark

can I see the girl who

was as strong as a rock

hon, did you leak your blood for him

to sign your name to proclaim

Satan Lucifer as your only god

were black,red and blue

your favourite colours of candles

baby, didn’t you once tell me

how you loved the world

and that people should love more than gold

what are you running from now

I’ll get you back if it’s not too late

or if it’s needed I’ll join you just

to have a date

with you and the archfiend

dove, I’m coming to mark myself

one among you if that’s what it

takes to keep myself with you

Aatira Kakroo

The Black Cat.

A narration of a man, Sam Sanders who is in his last stages of ‘Delusional Disorder’ after facing two traumatic incidents which take place on the very same day in CentVille,Europe. 

 
“WELCOME TO THE HOUR OF BREAKING NEWS, THE CENTVILLE PETROL PUMP NEAR THE OLD VALLEY PUBLIC SCHOOL CAUGHT FIRE AND 15 YEAR OLD, LISA SANDERS LOSES HER LIFE TO THE BURNS.” 

I shut the television on hearing this.

“Son, come fast. We need to leave.” As long as I remember, this was on 11th November’77. 

 “Yes dad, I’ll be right there with Lisa.” On hearing the name, I was taken aback, the immediate response to Ben was “Why did you name the cat Lisa?”

  “Dad, I just want to keep this cat as close to me as my sister was.” 

Lisa was a short-haired breed. She was black as a raven, her coat was glossy and smooth. Lisa had shiny yellow eye balls, a perfect example of patent leather kid with the new penny eyes. My wife understood my son’s emotions better than I did and insisted on keeping the name for the cat same as our late daughter. We were moving into a house 15 km away from Centville. It once belonged to a 70 year old man who treated his home as his only precious asset. He lived with a cook and a lovely maid. Both loyal to their owner took care of his villa really well. One day, the house got burnt down because of kitchen fire and with that the old man, cook and the maid passed away. The land went to his son, who built another beautiful house in memory of his old late chap. The marvelous structure was covered with ‘clematis’, my wife’s favorite flowering plants. All the arch’s were purple due to these blooming buds. After seeing the house, Rose and I immediately decided to buy it. Moreover, we were really looking forward to move to gain some new and healthy relationships. Our old neighborhood had led Rose and Ben to go into depression, they wouldn’t stop questioning about our daughter who had passed away.

Lisa,the cat and us found ourselves well-adjusted to this new home.  My family had found Lisa’s company really useful. Ben would not let this black ball of fur be away for even a second. They had started to see her as a part of the family.  Our lives had started all over again. We had hired a maid to help Rose with her house work. She was really appreciative of it. Our main concern-  neighbors and to our luck, the neighbors were really pleasant and understanding. We started having ‘get-your-own- food and booze-dinners’ on Saturday nights. However some of them didn’t like pets – black cats – Lisa.  Actually it was the same case with me. Somehow I couldn’t take Lisa being this close to us. After all, she was a black cat. And you know what they say about these furry felines? They are associated with ‘witches’ and bring evil omens.

 I wish and want to believe that the superstition related to them wasn’t true but that sure wasn’t the case.  Few days into our daily routine, our maid was found dead in Ben’s room. The police investigation could not prove anything but Lisa’s presence in the same room. 
Rose couldn’t find any other worker for the house and this made her insane. The house was so big and I couldn’t blame her for complaining about it. Ben too, started being isolated from us with this four-legged buddy.  We argued about the same before my work, during and after it. 
Few days later, on one of the dinner nights, Lisa ran over the table which housed all the wine and beer glasses. All the glass broke into pieces and flew across the room. Unfortunately and maybe consciously, the cat killed one of our favorite neighbor lady by this act. After that night, no more dinners or meet ups were held which included the Sanders.  Rose couldn’t stop cribbing about how terrible our lives had become again. Days passed by, our home became just a house now. My family wasn’t very happy. My life after the death of our daughter was miserable enough and just when I had thought it had built back to normal, it was tearing apart again and I couldn’t be less doubtful about it being the dingy cat’s fault. I wanted to get rid of this cat.

 On a very unhappy night, I decided to do something about this and for all I know, this night changed my whole life. I went into the basement and picked a rope and an axe. Then, into Ben’s room to look for Lisa. She was wide awake looking straight out of the window. The moment I picked her up, she looked me in the eye. She had the sharpest features which showed no sign of fear and life. I made sure Ben was fast asleep while I got this death-dealing creature out. I, immediately ran a mile away from the villa. I saw my home from a distance, it reminded me of the day, Rose and I had laid our eyes on it. It simply looked beautiful with those violet clematis. I instantly felt angry for letting my wife go through all this trouble and with this thought, I tied Lisa to a tree’s bark with the rope tightly. I walked few steps from the tree and started to dig the ground. After I had dug enough and also, removed all my frustration through this act, I was satisfied. I couldn’t wait to commit the very first crime of my life, burying a cat alive. I went back to the tree but only to find Lisa missing. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I returned to the spot where I had done my digging. This is where I didn’t know what was happening. I saw the axe but no hole in the ground. I screamed and cried loudly and that was followed with a loud laughter. On returning back home and searching every corner, I still couldn’t find Lisa. I was just exhausted and clueless. Helplessly, I fell asleep on the sofa. Next morning, while sipping on my cup of tea, I tried to contemplate what had happened the previous night and just when I was thinking of all the reasons for Lisa’s disappearance, I felt a shiver down my spine because I realized I had been stroking Lisa’s fur all this time.

Today,11th November’87, I’m 55 years old and alone. In these passing years, I have lost my wife and son to a car accident, this took place about 10 years from now, when Rose was dropping Ben to his classes along with Lisa. Soon after their death, I quit my job too. The neighbors who had once left contact with us, try to keep me company but I really don’t need their pity. They think I’m lonely and jobless. Whereas I’ve never felt the need for their entertainment. In fact, I’m very much occupied as I’ve encountered the same incident every night since that day and this is my life now.

I wake up, grab rope and an axe, pick Lisa, run a mile, remember my wife, tie the pussy, dig a hole, find the black soul and the hole missing , scream, cry and laugh, search the house , sleep on the sofa,  justify the ocelot’s absence and then find myself stroking her.


 Names, characters, places and incidents are my products of imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.  

  Aatira Kakroo

Money and Love.

What’s money? You know it.
You’re able to read this because either you/your parents/your guardian/your neighbour or the person you stole this device from, had money.

Where would any of us be if money didn’t exist?
In the times is ‘Barter system’ , Yeah.
Goods and services were exchanged to buy what one wanted.
The introduction to money clearly helped us to put a price on the items bought or sold and made it comparable.
So even if we were in the era of Barter system, where would you be if you didn’t have any assets for exchanging?
Hence money is more or else the extension of the barter system.
                   Assets=Money
And, that brings me back to my
pervious question;

Where would any of us be if money didn’t  exist?

Let’s just say, one can survive without money.
Who can? Homeless people? No, the roads they sleep on are made by using money. Nomads? They carry a bag at least for their never ending travel. What is going to buy them, that bag?
The only possible answer I can give you is,a cave man.

How does one live like a cave man?

You’ll time travel 2,00,000 to 3,00,000 years in the past. You might not wear clothes ( maybe, leaves ). You will start making tools out of trees and stones for survival and also fire.
You’ll eat anything and everything, hunting and gathering is what you’ll master. You’ll mate, produce babies who will follow you and of course, you might live for 30-40 years and then die.

However we can’t go back to being cavemen because of evolution, technology and must importantly, the point I’m trying to make, money.
In these years,the purpose of life shifted from mastering the techniques of hunting and making tools to earning a living. Undoubtedly, cavemen were humans. They had feelings and emotions too. Apart from the biological factor which caused the growth of their generations, they shared intimacy. They must have loved their partners just like how we do.
Although we’ve figured that cavemen did not require any kind of money, we certainly do. We also share a great amount of feelings.

         Cavemen : Love ✔ Money ❌
          Humans : Love ✔ Money ✔

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Does the need for money cause change in the way we love?

I don’t know how cavemen loved. Do you?
I wish there was a meter that gave the ratio between the biological and emotional factor in them.
But I certainly know if we didn’t have the need to buy ourselves a living and to survive mostly on the basis of money, we could have been different. Different mainly in terms of who,why,what and how we love.

“I’m going to marry someone who is going to be rich.”
“I’m going to make so much money that I don’t need to fear about people loving me.”
“I love that new motorbike. It’s going to cost me a bomb.”
“Baby, I bought you a neck piece for you. Forgive me for yesterday’s fight?”

We’ve started to derive our happiness and love from things that can only be bought. Our needs and wants have converted us in being extremely materialistic. We have lost the meaning of adjectiving unconditional to love. Apparently, we can compare the amount of love someone showers on us by how much they’re willing to spend on us. The purest feeling in us must be kept away from something so cheap yet extremely expensive.
In my opinion, something so objective in nature (money) will always be in dissonance with something very subjective ( love ).

        
I wish we lived like Cavemen. But just in a more civilized way.
With hardly any money but more love.

Or lived more like ‘ The Flintstones ‘ , TV series (1960s)

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Aatira Kakroo

Start a blog? DO IT.

Why start? 
What to write? 
How to convey what you’ve in mind ? 
Whether people will even consider reading it? 
Will it leave an impact on you and the reader ?
How to keep going ?

My blog completes one year.
        Happy Anniversary Inaureoled.
I have survived in this huge universe of writing by playing the role of a tiny particle, with 13 posts.
But certainly, being an universe of my own thoughts and words. 
This blog means so much to me because of the memories that flash back when I read these posts. 

Words play such a great role in impacting people. 
And, if you’re the one to create it,it’s beautiful.

image

One year ago,seated on the same sofa as I’m today, writing this. 
I got hold of my dad’s tab and googled some blogging sites. Out of all the sites, ‘WordPress’ really impressed me for a silly reason. I choose it cause of the variety of themes it offers, brings so much life to writing. 
Choosing a name to my blog wasn’t such a big task. 
I knew what it was going to be since the time I gained knowledge about blogging. 
To me, what was more difficult was to have no difference in the blog and my imagination.

The memory of writing my first post is still so fresh in my head. 
I remember going for a ten minute walk  as soon as I had published it and thinking about the last two hours I had spent on setting up the blog and it’s first post. 
I was actually mentally exhausted. Till today, whenever I sit to type another post, I’ve the same anxiety.
Reading and editing what you’ve typed again and again. Most likely, until you know the post by heart. However it is totally worth it.

In count, 30-40 thoughts run through our heads in a minute. Some of which hold our attention. Those thoughts can be the topic of your blog. 
Anything from your feelings to interests. Even about dead pets.

I believe in putting down my emotions in the most simplest way. Basic use of language,nothing fancy. Humour helps to catch people’s attention.

People will consider reading your article for many reasons: 
A. Your title
B. Your presentation 
C. They are fond of you 
D. They hate you ( haters make the best audience )

I never thought my own writing could teach me something. 
With every article, I’ve realised how bold and clear my expression of feelings has got.

I think that, when one really wants to deliver something to people, creativity and art flow in such a way that they make a beautiful piece on their own.

It is that pleasurable feeling you’ll get knowing that people could connect to your writings and make them re think their own capabilities. 
That happiness will make you want write more.

This post was also meant to thank all the people who’ve supported me through this journey.
And clearly, to tell you guys to stop questioning and over thinking the idea of blogging.

If you have ever thought of having a blog of your own and haven’t taken any step to do so, don’t wait. Just do it. You’ll learn more about yourself and people. It’ll surely be an experience you’ll want to have and you’ll be proud.

Aatira Kakroo

Kinds of people.

Pretending to be heartless is in trend right now. These days,people can toss off what they feel so well. Not being vulnerable to others is such a great deal for them that they have induced being tough and not caring about things in every matter of their lives.
Don’t mistake me when I say that,being strong is different from this. Or even being apathetic is far away from this.
Somewhere, deep down these creatures would love to gel along and connect deeper. But they just choose to avoid feeling certain ways to avoid being disturbed by such emotions.
They would put up a mask of ‘It doesn’t bother me’.
They do this in order to save themselves the trouble of being involved with others.
These people really don’t want to get  attached to anything. They like to stay away from things that require their attention and presence. Everything is really just ‘chill’ for such people.   Responsibility of anything scares them, so they don’t really like to take it.

I’m just going to say that there are four kinds of people;
A. Who get attached to people way too much and it’s very hard for them to let go. They put in a lot of efforts to keep up with their relationships.
B. Who are apathetic.
C. Who pretend to be unattached just so that they don’t get serious with anything. They won’t be of any help when it comes to a relationship.

However, this post isn’t just about the people who fall into the ‘C’ category.
It’s about those helpless beings, those in the ‘A’ category, who are associated with the ‘just going with the flow’ one’s.

And so,who still go ahead and face the one sided relationship with these fake heartless people,suffer the most.
They go out of their way to stand by these ‘I’m cool with anything’ kind.
They make these people the centre of their world.
They try to keep everything smooth and flowing and they minimise their wants and needs to satisfy the other in order make them feel home. These people do hope that the other would change.
They believe in “treat people the way you would like to be treated” and not “treat people how they treat you”. And, over time they do get attached to such people even if they don’t see the reciprocation of their deeds.
It becomes a normal thing for them when the other is not seen on their phone’s notification bar, they get used to ignorance, they don’t expect any materialistic things and eventually lose the sense of being something to someone.

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Of course, the ones in the ‘C’ division of people love the attention that follows them. C’mon, who doesn’t like being helped and having everything come easy? But all of it,still works at their convenience. No one can actually get into their priority list.
They allow people only to enter their world when they find themselves extremely unstable.
They over look the fact how slowly they affect the people around them.

So, at the end of the day, these hopeless romantics are taken for a ride.

Fortunately, some people do realise it’s better to stay away from such ‘anti-feeling’ beings. They’d choose those who choose them. They won’t go over board with anything.
Maybe, because self worth is little more.
Perhaps they just like their lives less complicated.
And, they simply fall into the division ‘D‘ of people.

Which kind are you? Which kind do you want to be ?

Aatira Kakroo

Human-An object?

I could tell you every single detail about him and bet my life on it being accurate.
I could tell you how he would behave to certain situations. What would hurt him,what would make him cry like a baby and what would make him laugh till his jaw and stomach hurt.
I could tell you all about his ideas,concepts,theories and dreams. I could tell you his exact words by which he would respond to an act.
I could write a book on him. I know him in and out.
At first though,he was like an opaque object. He wasn’t ready to show me his demons and angels. But with time I entered his soul and let him explore my presence. I did get to him. I got him so connected to me that till date he won’t stop telling me about him. He managed to be mine, it was hard to break his stubborn nature in order to know him but it was worth it.
There’s always more to him I learn even after years of being with him as he keeps adding different values to himself.
But can he say the same about me?
I wonder.
I’ve had my thoughts,perceptions and believes clearly put in front of him.
I’ve had my scars,wounds,surgeries and stories defined so well to him.
I’ve had my moments,actions and movements showcased beautifully to him.
From the day one, I’ve been transparent.
I didn’t let him walk the path of trouble that he made me go through to get to know him. Because I knew he won’t have the patience to deal with the mess which came along the way in reaching me.
So I made sure I became like a crystal or like an open diary to him.
Yet,he can never tell what I like or dislike or what would cheer me up and what won’t. He can not even tell the little of things about me like my favourite pet or colour.
It gets me worried when I know I’m not his even after being so open to him.
He could never sync with me.
There was always this lost connection when it came to me.
I did a lot of thinking about the whole thing.
Sometimes, I think what if I was like him, he might have tried a little to find me. But then knowing him he wouldn’t have, he cares the least.
I even tell him straight up about how I feel when he doesn’t bother, he apologizes genuinely and tries for a while but fails.
I had reached this point where I blamed myself because of not being connected to him. It really got me sick to think about it.
I had given my whole to him, he didn’t even have to dig a little. It was like spoon feeding. There was nothing more I could do. So I tried to look into this differently, I did retrospection.
I came to an understanding that it was never my fault.
He was never capable of it. He never had the capacity to look and understand me. He could over look everyone else including me. He was never matured to realise this. The ability to even see what was in front of him was not present.
And I knew, this wasn’t his fault too.
He was brought up in an environment which didn’t let him open his mind to think about others and the surrounding.
An environment which thought him to be like an object and see others like that too.
The sense of connection and bond was not a matter of concern for him.
It was always about survival and this was the reason why he was like a rock, at start.

Eventually,he did learn to give in himself and become vulnerable.
Unfortunately, didn’t learn to see others the same way.

 Aatira Kakroo