Small and Alone

#11

It was the first of January: stark, unique, and solitary. Quite ordinary in itself, this day gained celebrity status when someone picked it as the beginning of the year -- ever since, so very arbitrarily, it was assigned the number One of One.

One is the herald of change, the pinnacle of achievement, and yet also the peak of loneliness. One is independent and free of frills. One is the destination yearned for, but regretted.

But this first of January, I made a decision: to be, to the best of my powers, brave in isolation and content in solitude; and so here I am -- alone and unafraid, with my feet firmly planted at the centre of my Universe.

Small and True

#8

You don't disturb people when they are studying. You don't disturb people when they play or talk or sing or dance or watch a movie. Your ideas are too big. You are too small. You are too nice. You don't disturb people. Get that into your head. You don't.

#9

Alone inside, and stepped on, and broken into a million bits; but hey, at least she looked like a million bucks! And so she became a victim of the human need to give affection -- all for the love of a sexist man.

#10

When the proof doesn't happen and the brain stops working at 2:30 am, your thoughts spin out of control. You regret things you were confident about, and miss people you swore to force yourself to hate.

Small and Scared

#7

I won't die tomorrow. I won't, I won't, I won't.

It's 1 a.m., and my brain is cooking up a thousand ways in which I might. Between going to bed and falling asleep, I have vicariously lived through car crashes, natural disasters, blazing buildings, jilted lovers, fallen flower-pots and masked strangers. I have lain paralyzed as all the grenades and rifles and handguns in the world are pointed at me from somewhere between my eyelids and my mind.

But I won't die tomorrow, because all this is in my head, and I can make a difference in the lives of those for whom all this is real. Yes, the world is dangerous. Yes, saying no a to man is (should not be, but is) asking for rape and violent disfigurement and death. But I will step out, I will live.

I am human. My life is precious. I have too much to live for. So I will. Live, that is. I still don't think I can sleep -- of all those scenarios, the one I fear the most is dying in my sleep; dying without knowing. Another is dying from sickness, as my body and mind fade away.

I have decided that if I die, I want it to be clean and quick; and, if possible, painless.

But I say that only because dying is a possibility. I don't want to die. No way. Not right now, anyway.

Small but Proud

#6

Heritage. Not the country's or race's or religion's or family's, but the individual's heritage. Your heritage and mine: the legacy of our rich struggles through each life so differently chequered, for our future selves to hold on to in desperate times. Children we may or may not have may or may not inherit it, but our individual heritage is our utmost identity. Don't ever, ever give up on your heritage, or poison it with self-doubt planted by alien sources oblivious to your history -- your beautiful, albeit scarred, history; because your history is a story worth defending. It is complete with art and music in doodles made and tunes hummed in moments of lightness, volumes of priceless unwritten literature told to loved ones, and striking advancements of science and industry in figuring out your body and mind and using them to get where you are now. Your history also has pages of bloodshed and senseless hate that left you gut-wrenched and heartbroken, and the subsequent pages where you emerge battered but victorious. Let them remind you of your strength, and help you celebrate and defend your precious independence. You've earned it.

Small but Wise

#4

Ride into the sunset. Alone, in a Lamborghini, over the dead bodies of all who ever wronged you.

But yes, remember Mom's advice and pack plenty of food and water to take with you. Perhaps also take a book. Everything is better with a book.

#5

Speaking of books... I cleaned and rearranged the English section of my bookcase. I had to do some smart placing to fit my very inflated collection. It was overwhelming to think that every word in all those pages had held my attention at some very precious moment of my life; and to think that, for every book in this collection, there exist at least three books belonging to friends and libraries that I had borrowed and read; and in all of this I don't include any textbooks! Each of those books is reminiscent of lessons learnt and experiences vicariously lived that built who I am today. Seeing them all together drove home their importance to my identity and development as a person. My bookcase is rather cramped now, and I think I'll need a new one sometime. I'll do the Bengali section one day... it'll be another tumble of memories.

Small and Inanimate

#1

I'm the present tied in brown paper and string. I'm the slosh of school shoes in monsoon mud. I'm the Fruitzee bread-omelette, and the last paneer in the palak-paneer.

I'm the joy found in simple things.

#2

I am faded carbon paper, an old typewriter, and an umbrella with a curved handle. I am a handwritten postcard, and the clothes left behind by a student leaving for college.

I'm the memory of times that were not better, but definitely simpler; I'm the small difference made by big sacrifices.

#3

I'm the dinosaur game in Google Chrome -- the limbo between procrastination and productivity.