Bipolar

I have been called Bipolar several times, that I ‘swing around’ and surprise people. Usually it goes something like- "You are more mature than your age." or “O I never knew you were this fun!” I don’t necessarily take this as a compliment. But yea, whatever! I have two sides of me that I juggle with. The first impression people have of me is always wrong. Coz they see only one side of it. I am not a stereotype. You can’t fit me in one box and judge me with that label. Just because I work efficiently, does not mean I can’t have fun. Just because I am sarcastic, does not mean I cannot be sentimental. Just because I dress modestly, does not mean I am tamed. I feed the crazy in me, but don’t let it come out that often. I don’t want to drive people mad with my crazy. I get bored easily; the crazy mind keeps me going. What I am outside is the toned down version of what I am inside. And it is only a very few people who can break in and come inside. When you come in, you will again see two people inside. One is scared and insecure, and the other is wild and childlike. There is a child within me, who I can never let die. I thrive on the child within me. A child who is amused by the world around. This childlike curiosity keeps me alive. 

Will I ever let the ‘inside’ come outside? Or will I be a bipolar all my life? Will I always wear this comfortable garb of sanity or will I ever become comfortable to step outside naked?

My last story- Free bird- was essentially about this. About coming out. The feeling of freedom, of flying in wild abandon, knowing that sky is your place. But is there really any such thing as free? Was the bird ever free? Inside or outside.

P.S: This is a follow-on post from my previous story post (link above "Free bird"). The word 'Bipolar' here is not used in terms of medical disorder.

Story time: Free bird

Another story I wrote for training in creative writing...

Free bird

Tia fluttered her royal blue speckled yellow wings and sat in one corner pecking the seeds lying in the cage. A little 5 year old boy sat under the tree colouring a house and a road in his book. Tia’s cage was as big as the boy. She had no qualms; there was a swing and a slide inside the cage. There was also a water fountain to drink water from and a plate that was always filled with sunflower seeds and peanuts, sometimes almonds that the boy threw inside.

Swinging inside her cage, she would look at all the birds flying in the sky. But she was happy in the cage, although she had never stepped out. She got her food on time, never had to hunt, she was the entertainer and the entertained.

One day, Tia was left outside under the tree. It was getting dark, Tia was scared. She felt a soft dense mist enveloping her. She turned her head in different directions, and squeaked hoping to catch some attention. Losing all hopes, she curled quietly in one corner. Just then, she heard some sound. A titter she was not familiar with. Soon, it became loud. Tia looked up to find a sea of shining eyes; all the birds were laughing at Tia. “Are you scared now, pretty? Where is your human family? They are supposed to take care of you, right? ,” said one of them with a smirk. Tia could feel a fiery glaze outlining her wings.

In the morning when the first ray of sun hit the edge of the cage, Tia woke up and started pacing around. The family was nowhere in sight. She looked at the last few pieces of nuts left in the cup. She heard a voice from above, of a black bird sitting on the branch of the tree. It had red eyes and a velvety voice.

“Why don’t you fly out of that cage? Do you like to be limited when you can soar and see the world,” the voice said. “I don’t think I can fly. Besides, I think this cage is locked,” said Tia. “Don’t fool yourself. You define your boundaries. Have you even tried to fly out? Come fly with me and you will know what you are meant to be.” Tia thought hard. The little boy and his family could come any moment, and if they didn’t find her, they would be disappointed. Tia liked them and felt attached to the little boy. He fed her peanuts every morning. The bird coaxed her again, “What are you thinking? Come fly with me.”

Tia slowly stepped out of the cage. A strong wind caressed her light body. She fluttered her wings fast. Within seconds, she was flying. She had finally left the cage, she was free. A free bird. Just then she heard a deafening sound. The black bird sitting on top of her tree was shot, and fell down two feet away from Tia. She looked at the blood red eyes and saw it leave.

Getting attached and detached- how easy or difficult is it?

When you have lived a vagabond life, how easy or difficult is it to get attached to something? Do you always know at the back of your mind, that everything is ephemeral? That you don’t have to fall in the trap? That eventually, you are not going to be ‘here’. Or have you really become a wanderer deep within and you don’t want to be in one place anymore? What do you do with the restlessness in your heart to move, to keep moving, and not become stagnant?

But even when you think you are a wandering soul, is it easy to detach yourself? Do you ever truly get attached, or detached? Do you believe that something can really last? Do you attach yourself with a hook, which is easy to take off or do you glue yourself, wanting to stick? When it comes to detaching yourself, while the hook comes off easily, the glue peels off the surface with it. You lose some of yourself; you scrape a part from others. Whether it is a hook or glue, how easy is it to detach yourself? To step away from all the chaos and sip a moment of silence. Does it happen at the flicker of your fingers? Or is it like a big heavy rock that you try to push off the cliff?

Age- Does it matter?

Right at this moment, I wish I was 20. Not like go back to the time when I was 20, but NOW where I am, I wish I was 20 years old, and I had 10 more years to hit that milestone of 30. The second decade of life is so short. You blink and it’s gone. I will turn 25, in a few months. While I liked the idea of growing up till a few years back. Now it is just daunting. Can’t I be 25 all my life? I remember that song, 18 till I die. And I understand the whole thing about- nothing can stop you from doing what you really want, and all that shit. But only people who have reached somewhere in life, can make such nonsensical statements. After the struggle is over, everything always looks rosy.

Or I wish, I was a man. A 25 year old man. Perhaps, that would have made things easier. I could work my ass off, earn a good name for myself, save a lot of money, and take my sweet time to decide when I should settle down. Live life in my terms, however cliché it may sound.

There are two ways of looking at my situation right now. I am 25, I love my job, I earn more than I ever expected, I am in a steady relationship, I should get married in a couple of years, settle down and have kids, and perhaps, live happily ever after. Except, the question hovering in my mind. Will that really make me happy?

I feel I was sleeping my whole life, and I have just woken up. The world is revealing itself to me. And now, you just ask me to lie still in the bed? I want to see the world, I want to learn, I want to experience. But I am 25. I am expected to get married and pop babies before I turn 30- which gives me exactly 5 years, of nothing. 5 years to settle down in that monotony that waits for me? Now, exactly, at this moment, if I were a guy and not a girl, I would not need to care about any of this. Not my hormones, at the least. My parents, who were extremely supportive all my life, to be “career-oriented”, whatever that means, suddenly want me to settle down as soon as possible. What they wanted for me was to get a job so that I am not financially dependent on my ‘significant other’. I am financially independent, yes. But is that all? That’s what I worked for all my life?

Would things have been different, if I was not in India? I see a lot of my friends- Indonesians, Thai, Americans- they don’t have to think about any of this. They do what they want, without any pressure. That way, they give their 100% to what they are doing, work or play. Isn’t that independence? The real deal? Even a person earning 10,000 bucks a month, is ‘independent’ financially.

So what would be the right time to ‘settle down’, as they say? What happens when you work all the way up, do well in life, and don’t find your ‘perfect match’? Then you settle with what you get. Is that better than leaving your ambitions behind and settling down as expected?

What about those who never realized that the time was passing? They woke up one day and realized, they were 30 years old and they haven’t accomplished as much as they would have liked to. What does one do then?

I wish there was a slow motion button for this second decade of life. I wish, just for these 10 years, I could control the time.

So yes, to answer that question, age does matter.

P.S: Yayy! I am back. Haha. This post (finally!) is a culmination of a long battle of conversation, I had with a friend, a fellow blogger, that made me 'think' after a long time.