Archive for ‘death’

April 3, 2014


by thebirdieflies

What I wouldn’t give for all of this to be an extremely cruel, extremely elaborate April Fools’ prank.

Or a bad, bad, feels-too-real kind of dream. It certainly feels dream-like, at times.

What I wouldn’t give to turn back time. Just one week.

And I can see why owning the Resurrection Stone would drive someone crazy.

Sometimes I imagine my grandparents, reunited finally, quarreling away to glory over board games’ rules somewhere.

But this only exists in my memories now.

August 27, 2013

It Has Been a While

by thebirdieflies

It really has, hasn’t it? I even forgot what to type into my browser today, when I decided at last to tell my blog readers that I am indeed alive and kicking.

A lot has happened in the past three, four, five, months.

My on again, off again relationship with A has finally stabilized to an ‘off’ state. And I found a way to be okay with that.

I have more or less decided on what I want to do with life. I have decided that perhaps pursuing a PhD is really what I want to do, apart from trekking and photography and baking.  Towards that end, I gave the GRE and did pretty well by most standards. But, maybe it’s not time for a PhD right now, maybe after a few years, once I’m certain that I can produce some original research.

I made a new set of incredible friends, and somehow fell in love with them. That also made me resolve to try hard to make my other friendships stronger.

I lost one of my grandmothers. I still haven’t come to terms with the fact that I will never see her again. I don’t know how to.

I stayed in a new city for two months, and fell in love with it. I’m back home now, but memories of the amazing times I had there will stay with me forever.

I don’t know if I will be blogging regularly. I am trying to cut out crap from my life, such as extended periods of Facebooking, in order to make time for more meaningful things. It will be my last year in college, and I want to spend it such that when I go away, I will miss the place. I realized recently that missing a place, or people doesn’t mean that you lost something – it means that you lost something that, for a while, made your life really amazing. It is better to love wildly and lose a part of you and hurt badly, than to move through life without feeling anything, neither hurt, nor pure happiness.

July 31, 2012


by thebirdieflies

“I do not regret the things I’ve done, but those I did not do.”

Some sources say Rory Cochrane said that.

In my case, I find it occurring both ways.

I regret things I’ve done, but technically that is just another way of saying I regret things I haven’t done. For example, I regret leading my best friend on = I regret NOT having told him earlier what I really thought of him. Tada. ‘Tis a magic called Negation!

It so happens that a blog-friend of mine wrote about the same thing last week. Fuck regret, I say too. Regret only comes in the way of you achieving awesome things in life, because instead of concentrating on being awesome (Barney Stinson style), you concentrate on regrets. And my advice to my Future Self is: Don’t give yourself the Chance to regret something. And in case you do, move on, move on.

We exist on earth for such a brief period of time. I don’t know about re-incarnation, but isn’t it up to us to live the best way we can, while we are living?
I don’t think it matters when we die.
When we die, we’re just, finished. Nothing to regret anymore.
But while we’re living, oh we should be Living!
People who fast get stuck in the drudgery of everyday life, lose sight of beauty in this world.
They lose sight of that which makes this world such a wonderful place to live in.
They take for granted the many thousands of years of evolution and development that have resulted in us being who we are!
They forget about the other species co-existing on the planet along with us.

They forget about nature’s miracles, those remarkable phenomena which take our breath away, because time and again, we underestimate the magic.

I want to go scuba-diving and see how the fish live.
I want to go paragliding, to feel how a bird feels.
I want to climb rocks and mountains and feel the sense of achievement when we use our bodies the way they were meant to be used. (Also, parkour!)
I want to study the stars, and gasp at aurorae.
I want to partake in acts of daredevilry and court death, because even if I die, it’ll be a far grander way to die, than to die of a heart attack sitting in front of the television.

They shape us. Everything, from being told off by mothers to dressing up for a party is an experience. Without experience, we would have the brain of a newborn baby.
And the more things you experience, the more you learn about life itself.

It makes me happy, that I’ve inherited some of my father’s love for travel, and experimentation.
I see people who refuse to step out of their comfort zones even when it comes to doing something as mundane as trying out a new cuisine.
Granted I don’t fearlessly chomp down foreign cuisines and granted, I have my apprehensions too. I know there are things that I will never be able to bring myself to try.
But I think I’m a little better than them, because I Try. Of late, this aspect of mine has developed even more.

I don’t want to regret living on this beautiful planet and not seeing enough of it.
But I do fear I don’t have the time/resources.

December 13, 2011

Loony Lunar Ramblings

by thebirdieflies

Dear Future Me

Once upon a time, you joined this astronomy group in your city and stayed up the whole night watching a lunar eclipse. You saw how the moon was covered slowly and slowly by a brownish shadow, and how, when it was almost entirely covered, the moon was still visible, but it appeared red.

You then went for a walk at 5 am that morning with A, in search of some food.

Had you known at that time that you would fall in love with him? You knew that a walk of more than 2 kms lay ahead of you, that you had a growling stomach, that the roads were dark, lonely and not altogether very safe. You walked and you walked and you never realised any of that, because you were with him. Were you conscious of how safe and loved he always made you feel, even though you were nothing more than friends at that time?

Now, when I see the moon at night, when I see it in its full glory, all white, opalescent and big, I am reminded of how tiny we are. The moon is held up in space with nothing but a force field of gravity. We are held up with nothing more than the same. The moon is so huge, that it’s beyond comprehension. Entire human cities would fit in one of those little spots of gray.

Space is so beautiful. There’s no air, there’s no noise, there’s nobody. Light is nothing but immense heat and night is nothing but freezing to death quicker than you can say space. Human problems like poverty, corruption, love, betrayal, terrorism, none of it means anything there. If nature means surviving, then space means existing, for time periods So long, that we cannot measure them in our lifespans.

Space is beautiful.

You are too. Remember that. Your lifespan is but a little blip in time. Don’t waste any of it being depressed.


Past Me

October 29, 2011

Of Bleeding

by thebirdieflies

Dear Future Me

I have never been able to explain to anyone why I used to cut myself a few years ago.

There have been people who react immediately, who rush to tell me that I am mad, who never even listen beyond the first sentence. They think I am suicidal.

There have been people who just let me be. They know that I am not mad, and that is where the problem ends for them. They don’t think I am suicidal.

There have been people who don’t think I’m suicidal, and even if they hear me out, they refuse to see why I ever did that. They treat me with kid gloves, afraid that I will take to it again.

But everyone forgets eventually.
They let me be.
They stop talking of suicide helplines after a while, they stop telling me to visit a psychiatrist, a parent, a counsellor. They accept it as something that is beyond their comprehension, something whose rationale will forever evade them.
I accept it as something that no one will understand.

I have tried to understand why I do it. I suppose it began because I was seeking attention. From whom?
I suppose I cut myself once, twice, five times, ten times, because I wanted to see how far I could go. I didn’t want to attract trouble, only attention.
Over a period, it became a tool, that I would use whenever I was immensely depressed or immensely angry. It would distract me from my misery, it would shock me out of my self-pity. I still have no qualms using it. I control it, it will only go as far as I want it to go and I know how far to not go. Because, really, I am not suicidal. Suicide as a means of escape was a route that I had long ago given up on.

That will be all for now.

Past Me

October 6, 2011

Of Steve Jobs And Death

by thebirdieflies

Dear Future Me

Steve Jobs died today.
You were strangely unaffected.

When it comes to death, you used to think that you’d rather die yourself than have to live through someone else’s death. Someone who is closer to you than Steve Jobs, obviously.
You weren’t afraid of death because once you die, everything ceases to make a difference. In death, it doesn’t matter if your life goals were left unaccomplished, whether your family and friends are mourning your death or going on with their lives like every other day, whether you would miss someone. You wouldn’t miss anyone; the part of your brain that makes you miss people will be busy decomposing. You wouldn’t feel pain; your nerves wouldn’t be firing pain impulses anymore. You wouldn’t feel remorse or regret; your head, that keeps track of what you always wanted to do before dying, will be lying useless, blood slowly congealing in their veins.

You used to hope that to die young, so that you don’t have to witness too many deaths, and you don’t have to suffer old age and illnesses.

It would be sadly ironic if you are reading this at the ripe old age of 98 years.

Past Me