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Being Lonely…‘Main aur meri tanhai’ 😉

Having people all around, sitting on the same table, a spouse sharing the same bed, being use to a regular place and still not belonging there.

Synonyms of LONELY according to my thick, red, hard bound Merriam Webster’s Thesaurus are :

‘alone, lone, lonesome, single, solitary, solo, unaccompanied’

Though the thesaurus doesn’t lie, it definitely synthesises with the Chinese yin yang. As in, being right, yet embracing someone else’s correct. Being the good, but understanding, that the unacceptable, is also right, in its own strength.

The word lonely definitely means alone, unaccompanied and all of the above, but we connect to it differently. Loneliness is not physical. As in someone might be surrounded by friends and family, kins and clans, laughing, having fun and yet be lonely. It is not being single or married or unmarried or separated. It’s the inability to connect.

It is about missing home. Home is not a place. Being home is being at peace and harmony with the soul, our higher being. Being absolutely and deeply in love, with some goal or someone, still doing away with the restlessness and pining, in its absence. Being home is loving without the greed of being loved in return.

While we die only once, each of us leads two lives. One that comprises of the reality, that we live in, our family, friends, work, etc. The second one is a parallel world, inside the mind. It epitomises every wish and desire, the way we wanted it to be. Similarities in our two worlds is a rare disorder. When we humanly compare what is, to what could have been, it results in an insatiable, unquenchable, craving. Which turns out to be the pro-creator, foster-parent of loneliness.

The solace that we seek outside and the connection that we crave, is because of our embedded belief, a state of mind, that things could have been different – Oh! I could have studied in that university … or… She could have loved me.. or.. I could have written a best seller 😉

So, loneliness is

1) Not being able to connect.

2) Being lost and not finding home.

3) Is born out of dissatisfaction.

4) Is a state of mind.

I have often heard people say, there is no solution to loneliness, it cannot be technically solved, but distracted from. Balance is the law of nature. There can never be a problem that cannot be solved. Not being overtly optimistic, sometimes the answer remains undiscovered or uninvented.

When facing a difficult situation, like feeling socially isolated, the most important thing is to work out ‘the why’, the reason. Why am I not connecting to people around? The answer would probably be, “l don’t like them”. Stop lying. You reflect you, not them. You don’t want to be with them, because of your own traits like an inferiority complex or having a low self esteem or being dissatisfied with yourself. Diagnose your exact problem and work on it. If there is a problem in the root, go back to that same root and start solving from there.

If you wanted to study in a particular university years back, you can still apply…. It is much better than thinking about it for the rest of your life…similarly may be she’d love you…or slap you. At least you won’t waste your time wondering. And I will definitely write a best seller.

Sometimes we are very occupied in our own lives, as in we aren’t interested in anyone else. Now that is not loneliness even if physically we are all alone.

I am no psychiatrist nor therapist. Just a keen observer. And when I look through my imaginary drone camera, it is kind of ironically funny. I am fascinated by a whole lot of unconnected dots, that would make a picturesque view, if only they made an effort to reach out to one another.

Copyright © Neha Jhunjhunwala

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Neha Jhunjhunwala, https://thoughtsjustcurious.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content

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My journey from a non-reader to a bibliophile

There was this norm in my school, where every girl in the classroom, would stand up and read, one paragraph each, of the ongoing lesson. While all my classmates read gracefully with suitable voice modulation, I struggled to get even the first sentence right. This pattern continued not until the age of seven , but seventeen. It couldn’t continue forever, as school ended, a few months after my seventeenth birthday. Hey wait, there is more to my misery. I have a literature laureate mother, who wanted to be a ‘Doordarshan’ news reader herself, and hoped, I would fulfil her dream, someday. And that day never came. Oops! She figured that out pretty early.

Now, coming back to me, I was this ever smiling, happy for no reason, weirdo, loner who struggled in practically everything. I was much below any average kid in almost all aspects, barring music (which anyway was considered useless by my intellectual mother). And yes, I secretly wrote well, that being the only way I could declutter my mind.

When I had my daughter, I feared, she might struggle to read, just like me. You need to trust me, I was 30, and hadn’t read a single story book in my entire life until now. I had heard co-mothers chattering about ‘Phonics’ an ancient 16th century method, the ‘IN’ thing, that would help small children in reading better. The word reading some how rings the brain’s bell. To my extended misery, at that point, there was this very popular, successful, expensive and influential teacher, in the other end of the city, who taught phonics. She was the best and most importantly at the other end. But a mother seldom cares about the distance. So off I went, with my little daughter, to her. At the end of an hour’s study, and two and a half hours to and fro journey, the daughter only revised what I had taught her a year before. The ‘happening’ phonics class didn’t suit my kid. Then, super-mommy decided, to wear her super-cape, to save her daughter. So, I quickly did a ‘phonics’ course and worked on a tailor made educative program for my daughter.

When we read, we do it either through decoding or through memory. Nearly eighty percent of the words in English language can be phonetically decoded as in broken down into sounds. The rest are sight words, that need to be memorised for example ‘the’. Sight words are ‘naughty’ as they refuse to follow the phonic rules. Also there are funny rules, so that children learn as quickly as possible, in an enjoyable manner.

While preparing my daughter, I self-taught myself, how to read. Also, I discovered, I was scared of the echo of my own voice. That was one of the probable reasons I couldn’t read aloud in school. A very short attention span reasoned my inability to read without fumbling. My problem wasn’t an unsolvable one. I started with small quotes online, gradually reading articles and eventually books. That made me, ‘newly a reader’. Daughter started reading really well for her age. All the hard work put in was worth it , finally. I bought books, more books and many more books for her and a few for myself.

Once while decluttering, I could not let go off the books, that were no longer needed. And thus, ‘The Little Reading Room’ was born – A school of thought, that would help struggling readers like myself and also average and brilliant students to inculcate interest in reading.

N.B. This is not an advertisement for ‘The Little Reading Room’.

Copyright © Neha Jhunjhunwala Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Neha Jhunjhunwala, https://thoughtsjustcurious.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content

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“He didn’t matter,” she lied… thoughts & Quotes 3

The thought of being with her patch-eyed pirate was so beguiling,
that the prepossessing mermaid let go off her dwelling,
As she left her solace and finally surfaced,
The tranquility she was seeking was vanquished..

-Neha Jhunjhunwala
©️Thoughts just Curious

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Blinding Beauty

The form of beauty is so beguilingly blinding,
That we seldom look beyond it.
The skill, the art, the love, all dwell in disguise,
While our shallow mortal beings rejoices

©️Thoughts just curious

Neha Jhunjhunwala

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“He didn’t matter,” she lied

She was young, vibrant and completely lost her mind, when he frowned at her. He sat at the table ignoring her as if invisible. So what, even she was mean to him almost everyday. Sometimes snarky and indifferent too. So, why be so shattered.

She dreamt of him, every night, and waited, everyday. Pretended he didn’t matter. Made friends with his friends. Inside of her was shy, still wore a nice smile and crossed her comfort zone, just to be with him. Never revealed herself to him.. he needed to know her soul.

Couldn’t sleep through the nights, cried, gave up on make up, couldn’t work… and as she gathered her bits together, a memory crossed her mind… when she was younger, more vibrant… and faced the same situation. She fled, leaving all behind.

Now, the choice lied – to repeat or evolve. Life puts us through the same problems, disguised in colourful clothes, till we discover the answers and confirm the lesson finally learnt…. To be continued…

-Neha Jhunjhunwala

©️thoughts just curious

The Pursuit of Benevolence

It was 17th July 2019, half past two, steaming hot afternoon, in Kolkata. I was stuck in this horrific, terrifying traffic jam at the Park Circus 7 point crossing. The car was air conditioned. Husband and I were fetching daughter from school. We were heading straight to City Centre Mall, for ordering my new pair of spectacles. I was hating the traffic, as my mind was preoccupied between, buying a new pair of specks and consulting an eye doctor for a lasik surgery. Still I chose the mall, as a couple of months back, a female friend, had complemented, that I looked great with specks. One gossip girl praising another, now that’s surely something. So, the daughter sat in the front seat, next to her father, and I, was obviously scowling at the back of my comfortable, air conditioned, lethargic car. Just then, three poor, scantily clad, roadside kids holding a bunch of red and yellow smiley balloons appeared from nowhere. They knocked at the window, and, I gracefully shooed them away, with my hand, signalling we weren’t interested in buying balloons. My daughter was already six, and no more interested in balloons.

Barging back, into my thoughts and preferences, of adding new tints and shades to my pretty face, I heard my husband whisper, “See, the police is taking the balloons.”“I hope they are paying too,” I said thoughtlessly. But hey, everyone in the city knows, the police never pays. So I looked up attentively. Inside an olive green gypsy, positioned diagonal to us, I could see a generous bunch of red balloons. My husband quickly took pictures that are posted below.

No, the policemen didn’t pay. As, they weren’t the police. They were the Indian Army Officers. They bought an entire bunch from one of the children and took a few more from the other two. My daughter asked, “how many kids do they have at home?” There were literally tears in my eyes as I answered, “Baby, they are not buying for their own kids but these poor children living on the streets.”

Though I myself didn’t set an example for my six year old, to follow, that day, I was happy she learnt from the surroundings. It is an art within itself, to learn without experiencing, or vicariously living some thing. Although in this case an experience would have been towards the happier shining side.

As the traffic unfolded and my air conditioned lethargic car yawned and grumbled towards the elongated stretched Maa Flyover, it was enlightening and disgusting synchronously. As a kid, I remember, enjoying distributing coins to the kids, begging at the busy Minto Park crossing. One day, when my mom was out of coins, and I was crying for the same, she explained to me the ‘beggary racket’ going on in the city. The beggar were dropped out of vans to different traffic points and they would give a part of their collection to their leaders as commission.

I think I confused these hard working, balloon selling, scantily clad kids with the begging ones. These little balloons sellers were making a point, “Yes we are born to poverty-stricken parents. Yet, we aren’t impoverished in values and self respect. Buy from us, and we will be able to eat. Buy from us, and we teach the lazy beggars, the lesson of labour. Buy from us, because we need it more, than your vanity bill.” Buying a balloon wouldn’t have hurt me. But, it would have mattered tremendously to these little light workers passionately selling them. In my case the daughter would have been happy. After all, she is a six year old, who has been arduously trained, to not ask for material things.

Also, this small gesture by the army officials made me ponder, if everyone, including myself could be a little more thoughtful, kind and caring.

Every morning, when we read the newspapers, or browse through twitter or WatsApp, we come across reports of lynchings, stories of molestations, accounts of brutal rapes, communal murders, etc. As we proceed through our day, we are coaxed into believing that the blue in our little planet encapsulates immorality and evil spirit. And we readily feed this junk to our half-baked, gullible souls, overlooking the the exuberant life around us.

Instead, we need to look with our glittering eyes, for benevolence, affection, sharing and reaching out to the once in need, confirming to the idea of language of love, that serves as the essence of our existence.

Copyright © Neha Jhunjhunwala

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Neha Jhunjhunwala, https://thoughtsjustcurious.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content

Super 30 is a must watch movie

I have never written a movie review previously, but this one I simply couldn’t resist. Super 30 narrates the real life, super inspiring story of the superman and genius mathematician, Anand Kumar.

Picture courtesy : Wikipedia

Young Anand is a brilliant student and son of a postman in Patna. He passionately works on solutions of unsolved math equations that are printed in some foreign journal. Inspite of having limited means, he travels to Delhi every month, sitting on the top of a “maal gadi” or freight train, just to sneak into the Delhi University’s library, for books that would help him solve mathematical equations.

One day, he is caught by the librarian and thrown out. The peon suggests him, to write an article in the foreign journal, in order to get free access to the library. So, Anand Kumar answers the ‘unsolvable’ math equation and somehow manages the postage to send it to Cambridge University. Not only is his solution acknowledged and published, he is also awarded a 100% scholarship to their special math course. The only jugaad or arrangement left is his ticket to the UK.

His outstandingly optimistic and supportive postman father, readily liquidates his Provident Fund. They are still short of a huge amount. Anand Kumar is hopeful that the reigning education minister, who had once awarded him a gold medal, would help them with the rest of the money. As anticipated, no one helps him. He is not going to Cambridge. Dreams get shattered. His father passes away that very night.

Now, battling an acute financial crisis, both Anand and his younger brother sell ‘Papads’ on bicycles, in the dusty streets of Patna. A coaching centre CEO, ‘Lallan Singh’ recognises Anand Kumar, the brilliant mathematician, selling papad. Lallan markets Anand Kumar as a star teacher for preparing the elite kids for IIT entrance exams. Anand blinded by shimmer and success turns into an insensitive, mercenary minded, dazzling brand ambassador for Lallan’s coaching centre.

One night, while returning from a party, he comes across a poor genius student like himself. The echo of his late father’s words, ‘Raja Ka beta Raja nahi banega, ab Raja woh banega jo haqdaar hoga,” marks an epiphany, the turning point in his life. Anand Kumar willingly leaves his high paying coaching centre job and makes his own free coaching institute cum hostel for unprivileged poor yet intelligent students like himself.

Giving up all his newly owned luxuries, he puts in his entire savings into it. Feeding 30 students and providing them with books and study material, without an income becomes extremely challenging. Meanwhile, the sly Lallan Singh leaves no stone unturned, for shutting down Anand’s free institute. The mighty teacher also survives a fatal attack.

Anand’s Super 30 students, turn out to be the bestest investment one can possibly have made. While, struggling to get adequate number of books for all, they make a hand made projector with articles like tooth brush, threads, etc. Apart from maths, Anand successfully inculcates in them, an immense will power, to struggle and stand out against all odds, and look for solutions even in the most suffocating, scariest of situations. Finally in the end of the movie, all his 30 students get through the IIT entrance exam.

I’m awed, mesmerised and stuck in my inox seat. Honestly, I am not a Hritik Roshan fan. It isn’t a Hritik movie either. It is an Anand Kumar movie. Watching the perfectly flaw-some Anand Kumar exhibiting his contrasting humane qualities on screen, was an enthralling experience for sure. Apart from entertainment, the existence of such pure souls as the brilliant mathematician Anand Kumar, who work selflessly towards a social goal, without any desire for recognition, is touching.

Copyright © Neha Jhunjhunwala Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Neha Jhunjhunwala, https://thoughtsjustcurious.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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Strangers with Memories

In this distant world I often wonder, how much time does one take to know a person.

A lifetime or just a moment.People who I think I know 🙂While some are so called friends,Others are mere strangers with memories….Memories that are enchanting, engaging and so spellbinding that just about entangles with sensibility.

Copyright © Neha Jhunjhunwala


Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Neha Jhunjhunwala, https://thoughtsjustcurious.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content

The Art Of Choosing Life

She tried too hard NOT TO BREATHE, to give up on herself, to strangle herself into the arms of Death. While waiting for her soul to depart, she could witness her entire life in a flash, including the greatest love. Her treasured golden voice, that could have vanquished the world. She was about to let it go forever. The lights were fading. End seemed near.

“What if death rejects me, just like life. Or she may be as busy as mom, and didn’t have enough time. What if she punishes me for disturbing her before time and takes away my voice as a toll.” As the eternally embedded yearning to bear her golden voice until infinity crept up, she quietly let go off the cream and golden sheet coiled tightly around her neck. The love for Life finally triumphed over the deepest scars hidden underneath her porcelain skin. The mind started calculating and comparing the pros and cons of Life, to her fraternal twin, Death.

Life is too short to fight, hold grudges or keep the hurt concealed. If something is bothering you, simply take it off your chest. Speaking out once in a while is important. Talk it out instead of holding on to it, being trolled by it and killing your mind. Mental health is important. “I” am important. From this day, promise me, you’d practice self love and be vocal. In case, you have no one to hear you out, I am always there, even if you are a weirdo or a loner or I don’t know you, you are still welcome.

She is the most beautiful girl I have known. Not because she is doe-eyed or porcelain skinned. Because she is brave. Though broken, she still managed to crawl out of the dark space on her own. She chose going on to giving in, in spite of being all by herself. To embrace Life over and over again isn’t always easy, but it is always the steep gradient road that leads to the peak.

Copyright © Neha Jhunjhunwala

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Neha Jhunjhunwala, https://thoughtsjustcurious.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content

The Mystery of Mer-Bay – The Curtain Raiser

“There do exist parallel worlds and places, that we are entirely, unsuspectingly unaware of. Those that we influence and touch, yet camouflaged in oblivion. While our wisdom is circumscribed, we profess to have vanquished the immeasurable, unfathomed infinite. Yes, there is knowledge, understanding and discernment, but there is a lot beyond.”

Copyright © Neha Jhunjhunwala Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Neha Jhunjhunwala, https://thoughtsjustcurious.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content

Declutter the mind

The epiphany while decluttering –

That we had once treasured, may not be precious at all

– Neha J

Coprights©️Thoughts just curious

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