Rise.

​// To all those who need to be reminded what they’re made of 

Thou,

Of the endless resilience of a bloom cutting through stone,

Of the crackling, grey potential of a storm,
Of the grace of seasons sailing seamlessly into each other,
Of the angry disaster of a violently shaking ground,
Of the exultant arch of a rainbow,
Of the fiery fierceness of a burst volcano,
Of gentleness of a caressing breeze, 
Of the cleansing beauty of a flood no longer holding back,
Of the divine intervention of a ray of sunlight in numb twilight,
Of the homeliness of a familiar ground,
Of the blood of Mother Nature,
I bid thee-
Of the name of son and daughter

Of the life giving Earth-

r i s e.//

-Kimaya Ingale.

Voices In My Head.

AUTOR’S NOTE: This might be my last post for a while, because I’ve got super exams coming up in a month. And what better way than bidding adieu than some sassy talking to your own self? But it’s okay, darlings. Sometimes, you’ve got to be your own Christmas Tree. Enjoy 🙂 

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“So you think I could get past the 90+ mark?”

Uh, love, I don’t know how to break it to you, but you’re no genius in Math. And the long dead scientists are probably crying in their graves because they have to go through the horror of their deaths all over again, at your tiny hands and the way they massacre equations, laws, you know, the works.

“But, people say that I am not half bad at English. In fact, they do appreciate my writing skills. Isn’t that something?”

Alright, I could agree that you’re fairly good at English. But what about those who are excellent and who, unlike your Highness, don’t have to wait around for months to have originality and creativity knocking at their brains and FINALLY write a piece that is decent enough to be remembered?

“Ouch. That hurt.”

I know it did, sweetheart, but you know how they say it- the truth isn’t the truth till it knocks the wind out of you. The sooner you accept that you’re no J.K Rowling, the better it’ll be for the both of us.

“You’re right.”

When aren’t I?

“When you imply that I have the potential to amount to nothing. Or when you mark every low point of mine as a failure. Sure, I am no J. K Rowling. But have you heard of a Kimaya Ingale?”

Yes, I have. Out of obligation rather than out of admiration, mind you, darling.

“Okay, what would it take for me to get you to shut up?”

Are we on a mission to list out all the things you cannot do? Because this list would take a long time, it would.

“Or it wouldn’t if you would just spare me all the back-answering.”

Okay. I’ll say it loud and clear- BELIEVING IN Y O U R S E L F. When no one else does it. Not needing others’ words to get you back up and brushing off the dust.
And why should you need others words when you’re supposed to be “good” at this? Aren’t you “good enough” for yourself? Don’t answer that. Of course, you aren’t, love, and that’s why you need me.

“I am better, actually. And now that I know what it is that I need you to keep you quiet, we might as well say our goodbyes now.”

*Laughter* What, you are going to start believing in yourself now so you could cut me off? Right. Let’s see you try.

“Oh, darling, but I guess, I just did. From now, till eternity.”

-Kimaya Ingale.

 

 

Questions, Answers (Part-3)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Extreme Makeover: Blog Edition. 😀 Let me know what you think of it. And also, this is the finale of my three part series. DO let me know what you think of it. 

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“And once again you’ve proved, Kimaya, how words are totally your forte. That was quite beautifully put. But do tell us, why do you count it as the most defining moment in your teenage?”

Thank you for your kind words.

Well, I think the best way I can answer your question is by proposing to you, and all my readers, a scenario.

Think about a book or a book series you’ve read probably a hundred times. You know each scene, sentence, phrase by heart. You know the book better than you know yourself.

But suddenly, the author of the book or books in question drops an explanation for an ambiguous event that happened in the book. You were so sure of what you thought the ambiguous event really meant your till the author tells the world what really happens.

You feel like everything you’ve until now was a big fat lie. What the author says changes your perception of everything and suddenly, after you get used to it, you feel a little more alive. A little more grateful, a little more loving.

You feel like your life has been lent a meaning to. That’s how I felt after the Incident happened. It was my push into the real world. And that’s why the Incident was the most defining moment in my teenage.

“Yes, we get can relate to that. Although, I’ve got just one question to clear things up around the obscurity of the word that you used- ‘different’. Is it ‘different’ along the lines of Cynthia Nixon, Lance Bass, or to suggest something our readers would relate more to, YouTube sensations- Joey Graceffa and Connor Franta?”

It may be or may not. Because I believe every person has their own personality, own body, even though we tend to wrap up all that in the same word- ‘different’.

“Okay. I think we got the answer clear in your denial. Before we part, do you have any words of advice to your readers?”

I do, as a matter of fact.

To whoever reads this, reader or not,

I think that if people don’t want to believe in something, let it be. Let it be kept as passive ignorance, why turn it into something that could result into the destruction of a person’s opinion about himself? Express your opinions through writing, speaking, yes, but please, don’t turn it into laws or taboos with an underlying denial for people of one of the most the most fundamental human rights- pursuit of happiness.

But, I hope you embrace what’s different in you. It could be anything at all. It sets you apart, makes you an endangered species, ’cause after all, it makes you the only one of yourself. There’s very few things that’d give you the same feeling of satisfaction you get after figuring out who you really are. You connect the dots, the little quirks, and BAM! there is your very own masterpiece. And it is one that no one can steal but copy. But you shouldn’t mind anyone copying it, because really, is there any higher form of flattery than a person trying to imitate you?

I leave you with these words-

“Be brave like my friend, trust the right people, and you would be surprised at how bright you shine.

Trust me, darling, you’re dazzling.”

-Kimaya Ingale.

Questions, Answers (Part-2)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I couldn’t resist not writing more. 😛

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“And then?”

We became closer and closer and my suspicions about him liking me were nearing their summit.

Anyway, the Incident happened on a fine May night, you know, the cliched ‘calm before the storm’ kind. So, he calls me up and in a dead serious tone says that he wants to tell me something important. I thought, ‘Ah, it’s here finally’ and my carefully thought, worn, well rehearsed speech on declining proposals from guys I didn’t like entered my mind. I was just making a few changes here and there, tweaking corners, when he started crying.

“God, are you really that terrible?”

*Laughs* Who knows? Either way, I was alarmed. So I implored him to tell me what it was, because – 1. ‘Was he really that much in love with me that it makes him cry like a baby?’ I thought (ha! I know, how much more self-absorbed could a person be!) 2. It was a late night call on the phone in the living room because I didn’t have a phone back then and the looks my family was shooting me weren’t entirely pleasant.
So, after half an hour more of barely coherent, vague clues dropped between racking sobs, he told me. Believe me, it was something that took me aback. The ‘sorry I don’t like you back’ collapsed into nothing-ness.

Can you guess what he said?

“Well, whatever it was, it wasn’t certainly a proclamation of love!”

You’re right on that front. It wasn’t. He told me he was different. That kind of a different which takes hella lot of courage to accept, brings about a ground-breaking, world-spinning change in your life. It might sound daunting to some, but the feeling of liberalization that you experience is one of those ‘once in a lifetime’ things.

When it grows, it turns into one of the purest and heavenly things in existence on the earth- love. But love which has been tainted as ‘unnatural and forbidden’ by the Society. And I can’t even begin to think- why.

“Yes, you are absolutely right. But what about pretending to like you? Why do that?”

I was hoping you would ask. Let me tell you, I wasn’t the only one he pretended to have taken a fancy to. He had been pretending to like girls since 2 years ago. To feel normal, to fit in and to bury the truth deep into the niches he carved especially into his mind.

And that is what breaks my heart. Look, there’s pretending to be something you’re not because you want it, and there’s pretending to be something that you’re not because the people want it. They just don’t want you to escape the realms of ‘what has been the tradition’ and be an iconoclast.

Who exactly are we to dub what’s normal and what’s not? If you are stupid enough to answer this question and even stupider to answer it with -‘That’s how God made us’-  I feel sorry for you. Like really, I won’t even get mad. I’m just really sorry for you; if you think God made us to forbid some “types” of love and make some of our fellows unhappy, you’re being sent a barrel full of pity for yourself from yours truly.

I apolgize for my bluntness, and I know I might offend some readers when I say this- there is a reason that God doesn’t show himself and hides up in Heaven. He’s too ashamed to face what he has created.

-Kimaya Ingale.

Questions, Answers (Part-1)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Hi! Friday’s here finally, my tests are over, which means plenty of writing time (well, at least for the time being. Perks of being a tenth grader *sigh*). Anyway, the following post is a new style of writing that I’d been itching to try out in a post (it’s me basically pretending to be famous enough to grant me my own interview, lol). However, it has elongated the post I was planning to post in one part, quite a bit. So I’ll be writing it in parts. Let me know in the comments how you feel about it.

PS: I hope this debut doesn’t hit the rocks  😀

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“Hi, Kimaya. You certainly do stay true to the secretive side in you, that we’ve often heard of. However, your fans are dying to know what your teenage was like. And they absolutely want to know what was your most defining moment in it?”

Really? I had no idea! It’s quite nice to know that people want to know about you; all the events backstage and not only what they see. It’s especially pleasing when you reveal the real ‘you’ to someone, like stepping out from behind the curtain and beginning the magic show called ‘yourself’. I’m fortunate enough to have been an audience to one of those during my teenage, and yes that is the my defining moment of teenage.

“Now, you’ve got us all charged up! Do tell more!”

Okay. However, I won’t reveal the name of the person for I’m not sure whether he would be okay with it or not.

Anyway, this incident happened in the summer when I was 14 and so was my friend. In the days before it happened, we were really closed (we are still) and now that I think of it, he obviously trusted me through and through. We were so close that people thought we liked each other and I would be lying if I said that I didn’t have a sneaky suspicion that he liked me. Because he told his close friends that he did, and my best friend was one of them, I came to know, too.

“Did he know that you knew?”

I don’t know, really, until later when I confronted him about it. He was quite obvious about it, though. He had a secret name for me (you ask me how I know? Well, he was naive enough to tell my best friend) – Pears. They are his favourite fruit and his most favourite dog in the entire world was named Pears. I know, it’s weird. Anyway, as aforementioned, I don’t think he knew that I know until I told him I thought he liked me. He denied it, of course.  I didn’t believe him, but pretended to, for the sake of the continuity of our friendship.

“And then?”

-Kimaya Ingale.

Story-Time.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Hello 🙂 Again, it’s been long since I last uploaded ( I don’t know, even a  day without uploading seems pretty darn ‘long’ to me 😛 ) Anyway, I’m writing a post that is dedicated to a dear friend of mine and one which I had published earlier, however, it got deleted somehow. So, here it is again! Thanks for reading and comments are always appreciated. x

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Hi, there. Come, sit down. It’s your female, Kimaya! Right now, I am going to tell you a story. But it’s going to be a bit different. I’m going to give you only the words that constitute broken phrases that are so grammatically wrong that you would probably frown upon them. There won’t be any mention of the emotions I felt, not the tears I cried, not the smiles I smiled. Just words, that you are going to weave up in a story you think is appropriate. Don’t worry, I’ll give you the reason of my doing so at the end! So stick with me, here we go-

2 boys. 1 girl. Boys, the best of friends. 1 girl, the thorn in their friendship. Girl fell for both, hard. Best friends fell for her, too. But, only 1 told the girl how he felt about her. Other, silent. Girl couldn’t decide between both. Finally, went for The Boy Who Declared (Eek, one small interruption. If you were reminded of Harry Potter when you read ‘The One Who Declared’, I love you. Potterhead forever, bro! :D) Did so not because she liked The Boy Who Declared more, but because she didn’t know how the other one felt about her. Meaning, girl liked the Silent Boy more. But continued with the other one. Almost a year passed. Girl couldn’t take it. Was still confused. Received mixed signals from Silent Boy. Told Silent Boy how she felt. Silent Boy told her he has loved her since forever. Girl understood what she had to do. Told Boy 1 that she didn’t like him anymore. Lied. Left him. Now, girl finally happy with Boy 2. 

THE END.

End of the story, I mean, if you can even call it one. Now, for the reason I did so.

You see, it wouldn’t have mattered if I told you this story as it really happened; as a real story. Because even though our emotions, while telling a story, ring the truth, the listener is always going to go with the moral he derives from it. Yours doesn’t matter in the end. It never does, darling.

In this way, there are two morals you can deduce from this little anecdote-

Moral 1: The girl was a hypocrite, an unpleasant young ‘un (read: bitch), a girl who can’t control her impulse to get all the boys (read: slut) and that she was undeserving of them both.

Moral 2: The girl’s condition was pitiful, being in a love triangle and the worst kind, too; with two best friends. She did go through a lot and did break a heart, but that was all she could do. Because that was what was right. Rather than faking love for Boy 1, she went righteously with Boy 2, setting the former free. She deserves Boy 2’s love.

And now my moral to you, for all your stories that you are going to tell is (eating my words quite a bit, aren’t I?) –

“Always, always believe in your own ‘moral of the story’. Never let others’ notions distort your belief in anything.”

-Kimaya Ingale.