Memories of Midnight.

Tonight it was different.
He sat up quickly in bed. The thousand stars he slept under, pricked his ancient skin with their cold, sharp points. He seemed to bleed moonlight and loneliness.
The death of a lover is a terrible thing. No more arms and limbs to entangle yourself in. No more sipping the same air while breathing hurriedly through love-making. No more singing crazily during Rainy July. No more witnesses to your life. He didn't always miss her but tonight, well, it didn't feel like other nights.
He couldn't remember the sound of her voice anymore. And it was not because he was turning deaf due to old age. Memory is a twisted maze in which we lose ourselves, rushing hastily through escape routes, reaching dead-ends, coming up lazily to a cul-de-sac and wondering, 'How the Hell did I end up HERE?'
We lose the essence of people, of things. Our sadness gets tinged with longing, with that familiar drop in the stomach till its nothing but a feeble nostalgia, creeping up in the deepest roots of our heart.A mere memory of sadness.
He was forgetting his wife. Once, she had been the sole reason he got out of bed in the mornings. And now this.
He pressed his eyes shut tighter. As if the pressure could force his mind to milk some old, faded  memory of her. It didn't. But then-
He saw her wade into the blue waters on the night of her 22nd Birthday. Her skirts hitched up to her knees. Her smile created ripples in the still, dark waters of her eyes . It was the first time he had the courage to reach out and touch her brown skin. And she hadn't held back...
 There was no doubt he loved her with his eternity.
A comet blazed brilliantly through the sky- hot and quick and beautiful. Just like their love had been. It glazed the night sky with the Hope of returning again, in another Time- a recurring Love story.

Goner.

Things are good when they are slow.
You can reflect.
You can dissect words.
Read between the lines.
You INVEST in a single person.
Time, Effort, Emotion.
Exchange pop references.
Understand what makes a person tick.
Make it through bad conversations and cranky moods.
Survive distance and each other.
Because, at the end of the day- there is no guarantee about anything.
But if you stick along long enough, it's a good enough yard stick to measure reliance.
Maybe.

Sometimes, it gets difficult.
Sometimes you want different things.
Or the same thing, but at different times.
What should you do?
Adjust?
Communicate?
I'm so scared that I may be the only one thinking all this.
What if this thing isn't so complex in his head?
Does he think about things like these?
I don't know and after today, I know better than to ask.
There is a lot of Blank SPACE.
You need something to fill it up with.
But what after?

There is something about blindly trusting something, someone.
A FEELING.
Well, If nothing else. I will thank this because it made me feel again.
And God knows I needed some emotion now.
For starters, I listened to an HOUR of 'Best Love Songs' on Youtube.

Power of Love- Jennifer Rush
Making Love Outta Nothing At All- Air Supply
Total Eclipse of the Heart-Bonnie Tyler

OMG. POWER BALLADS OF THE 80's!?

Extreme Case ALERT!

If things don't worsen from here,
I'm a Goner.

:P

Long Chapter- Beginnings.

There are times when you are just in awe about how things seem to work out.
You find that firefly in the night sky.
You follow it- fleeting, flitting  bright spark.
That turns out to be a silver star, burning brightly in a your own personal constellation-
So much Hope in the dark.

Somebody told me you must not express too soon. You don't put words to your thoughts. Only morons do it. Or people who don't mean it. What do I do with this excess emotion then? Where do I keep it? Thank God for my blog.

Love.
It's making me giddy, dizzy.
I get goosebumps when I hear a love song these days.
I hum along to La Vie En Rose.
I croon like Louis Armstrong.

Who'd have thought something I was doing out of need could turn into something I could want so bad?
This must be a spark well-kindled, but it must be fed.
Fed with silence and effort and patience.

It takes Time to write a long chapter.
And I couldn't think of anything better to do right now.

How long does it last?
If it's done right?
A lifetime.

Oh Night!

Bring me back the pale blue moonlight, that softly slid under my barred wooden window that one night I declared I would never love again.
But oh!
Such promises are made in vain.
For when the star-speckled, silver sky clears after January rain and beckons you to lose yourself in its all-encompassing midnight brilliance-
You chuckle inwardly, chastising yourself-

Oh what a fool I have been!
I am Woman and I cannot but choose to love!
But tonight, for the first time, before I love the wanton sky or the burning stars or even him-
I will first love Myself.

An Idea.

English in India – The language of the cursed?

As a lover of English, I could never have imagined a day when I would actually question my education as well as career. Yet such a day has sadly arrived. No matter how learned or intellectual we may think we are in India, from a global point of view, there is a widening gap between the native or non-native speaker of English.
This does not always work out in favour of a non-native speaker. For example, there have been numerous times when teachers of English in India have faced a dead end while being hired abroad or outside India. The South Asian countries are the worst- with China and Korea being very vocal about wanting white teachers or ‘native’ language users.
I want to understand why ‘native’ language users are considered ‘better’ language users as well as teachers. Is there a scientific reason for it, something stemming from Language Acquisition laws, or is it simply based on an underlying racism that we are speaking a borrowed language?
Finally, I want to reflect on the reverse racism faced by English speakers in India- are they mocked as ‘babus’ or are they actually in a beneficial position with respect to non-fluent speakers of the language?

if we talk about Teaching and Education as a qualitative experience, then how does a native speaker of English provide her learners  with benefits solely based on her country of origin?

If anyone has any points to share or some advice – be it books or research resources, please share it in the comments section, or e-mail me at alisha.nangia@gmail.com