I go to bed in the same room I wake up in, and these days that feels strange. Seeing the light change from one window through the day, and then the next. I used to be used to the same changes in my scenery and now the scenery stays the same. In dorm number 827, I rarely knew what it looked like at 3pm, I was always somewhere else. I suddenly find myself feeling my favorite kind of exhausted at the end of the day, but nowhere to turn to except the same bed where I felt that exhaustion. the indents in my mattress are from sitting over my laptop while my neck is bent into my phone, life happens in much smaller windows now. So much of this is recreation, to create again, something that already exists. There’s a difference, I learned recently, between editing something for a desktop and editing it for a mobile screen and I wonder how we’ve managed to do that to our lives. I’ve started painting, I’m never sure what to put to paper except photos I’ve already taken. Things I’ve recreated at least twice before. I keep trying to embrace the space I’ve found myself in, but you only know what you already know, even when you’re learning something new. All my newness is just, redefining old habits in smaller borders.
I don’t like going to work, and coming back from work, and never having gone anywhere. The other day I asked my auto driver to stop midway so I could take a picture of a moment in the outside. Of a 3pm scene away from my bedroom. Of light changing a little differently than it has for 6 months. I know I’m not the person I was when this all began, I know I’ve felt change within me faster than before. I can’t say these words with a straight face.
faster. slower. now. then. before. after.
like any of it finds itself marked on a line, corresponding to something else. I wonder how we would speak to each other if we didnt know time.
I’m drunk right now and it hits me that I’m drinking alone. That when the zoom call ends I have to move the tangle of chargers to the other room. The ones that keep me connected to the liminal space, and the less physical I am, the closer I am to somewhere else. Somewhere not here. I’m drunk right now and I’m alone, very alone and stuck in a state of growth.
I’m going to bed and tomorrow I will begin classes, if I need to, I will charge my laptop by my bedside, on a zoom call, trying to be less physical, in the same place I woke up hungover. Alone.
To The Class of 2020
To the Graduating Class of 2020,
I didn’t realise it until I’d written two drafts of this, but this is secretly my letter to Vidushi. Don’t tell her, it’s a secret.
But let me tell you something about Vidushi, not only did she graduate in 2019, there’s also a million people who can likely write about her better than I can. Also this is the real problem, when I was 16, I wrote something for the graduating class above me, and at the time there weren’t many people in our tiny school inclined to English and writing, so I felt pretty good about myself and what I’d produced. Now, there’s a whole bunch of graduating literature or philosophy majors who are all incredible at writing and they’re all going through very complex emotions right now and putting them down beautifully, and so far, I’m not. Also this happened to not be about Vidushi.
Vidushi is, by a mile, the nicest person I know. She isn’t nice part-time, like a lot of us. She doesn’t do that thing where we take a moment to bitch and cleanse our souls and then go back to being positive. She sees someone and immediately the best of them appears to her, especially when it would evade most of us. I remember, the first poetry meeting I went for, dark and fairy-lit and safe in so many ways, for a new kid at a new school, she told us, “don’t be a chutiya to yourself”. And I may not have learned this lesson very well because she said it to me two days ago, but she lives by the words she says and that’s something I’m trying to learn. You can learn a lot from Vidushi, and if you know her at all, I imagine you have.
There’s a lot of times I’ve found myself quite randomly eating lunch alone and seeing her sat on the grass with her friends and I’ve never felt uncomfortable to sit with them and chat and feel part of something a little bigger than the life I’ve made for myself here. This is for a lot of my seniors at Ashoka- I’ve been so lucky to have taken classes with them, be in clubs with them, work on events and plays and sit in random rooms and drink with them. There’s so many people I want to say congratulations to, or goodbye, or ‘your sari looks beautiful!” to. To say, thank you for answering every stupid question I’ve had about this place and the world outside since I got here. For not having answers, only more questions. For having failed before where I am failing now and for still being here, and telling me not to be an asshole to myself.
Vidushi, I sometimes forget, isn’t that much older than me. We’re all just, kids. In a pandemic. Scared and hopeful and scared and, there for each other. At least in my experience. I’m glad she got her convocation last year, she’s really good at making little moments important, so imagine what she does with the big ones. She’s good at making a family out of every group of people. I hope you all found your family here, I hope you guys aren’t saying goodbye yet.
There are a lot of people running through my head that I want to say goodbye to, or thank you, I’ll miss you, you taught me something important about life and I don’t know how to say it. I’m sorry I’m writing a letter to Vidushi to you. But all of you, the whole class of 2020, you’re doing some crazy shit. You’re ;re stepping into a whole new world, not just new to you, but to everyone. And you’re going to change it. That’s wild. I hope, wherever you are right now, whatever you’re doing on you would-be convocation, that you’re really proud of yourselves. I’m so glad I have you to learn from, to reference, to look back on and look forward to. Thank you.
At any rate, congratulations guys! Your saris look beautiful. Your degree looks real shiny. The special menu isn’t that great but food tastes better on days like these. The lawns look pretty green and the sunset is unforgettable today. You did it, you made it, you’re okay. Trust me.
(Sorry about the pandemic),
Kiana Manian
UG’21
10 Things To Do If You’re Awake After Midnight
1. Write a poem. Writers’ block cannot be an excuse when ‘1.54 AM’ is such a good title. When the bags under your eyes carry hundreds of words left unsaid from the day time- let the only light in your house be the glare of the laptop screen, fingers tap tap tapping against keys.
You’ll probably hate this in the morning.
2. Eat some ice-cream, the calories don’t count, not when the emptiness has devoured you before you could get the that strawberry delight- finish the tub. No one will notice.
3. Go over the day in your head, go over last night, go over this week, this month, this year- your entire life has been a mess and you’ve never stopped to acknowledge what you’re putting yourself through. But now, now you’ve got this poem, you have ‘1:57 AM’ and the sun isn’t coming up any time soon. Go over every word you’ve said, thought you’ve had, feeling that has consumed you and wonder why the fuck you’re not asleep right now. You could take this time to learn to love yourself but lessons like that don’t come easy, start slow. Tomorrow night you know you’ll still be awake, you have more time than anyone alive. Tonight, just feel your pain, feel something, anything to remind yourself you still can. Why else are you up?
4. Review your Instagram feed. Delete the photos that are too bright, too warm, the fade is too high- construct your persona. Exert the only control you have. Unfollow people to show them you don’t care, wait for them to notice. Double tap, scroll. You are the master of your kingdom, it glows in the palm of your hand. Your captions are hymns to the scarred, to the artists, the ones you want so badly to be like. Convince yourself that’s who you are, who are you?
5. Have an identity crisis, you don’t have time for that during the day. But tonight, you can be anyone you want. Who do you want to be? Who do you want to be? Now is your time to decide and change your mind and scream inside your brain, your brain you can’t change no matter how hard you try. It’s 2:12 am: crises were never really your thing
6. You should be asleep by now, but you’ve missed that window of time where you still have a shot. You’re stuck with your thoughts and this fucking poem, you wish it would be over by now and the more you go back to correct your typos the more you resent it. It’s pretentious if anything, your troubles are like tissue they could blow away with the wind. You aren’t half as sad as you seem to want to be and you still don’t know who you want to be, another crisis but it won’t last.
7. You know you’ve only got this far because you want to get to ten. Don’t you feel better now, though? Isn’t all you needed some irrational thought, adolescent screaming; it’s the tap tap tapping of keys and you’ve exhausted yourself, your mind and now, you’ve released that steam.your angst is trivial, these problems are paper and you see that now. That’s what this poem was for and it’s served it purpose. Eat something sweet, and move on. Wait for the sun, open a blank page… Start something new.
8.
9.
10.Don’t read this in the morning.
1.12.16
It’s been a fuckall year, for everyone, I guess- the memes have spoken. Honestly, from the beginning I’ve just wanted it to end, and I’m honestly so relieved that it will soon. But for now, it’s December, and December is and always has been beautiful, so I’m ready for 31 days of Christmas and baked goods and warmth, even though IB is killing me slowly, sports day will take the wind out of me and the general shittiness of grade 12 isn’t going anywhere, I’m getting into December the way i always do; as if it’s a whole different world full of only love andusicnand baked goods and positivity and I sound like such a fucking nut right now, but I don’t care. December 1st was great, and here’s hoping the rest of the months won’t be reminiscent of my year so far.
To the Graduating Class of 2016
As your MC for the big night, I thought I’d take this time to go a little off-script and give you the more informal farewell I think you all deserve.
Firstly, I’m going to miss having the safety net of another class right above me. The ability to use you as my examples and learn from your mistakes. I took great comfort, especially this last year, in knowing that there was a layer of thirty five odd people between me and ‘real life’.
Secondly, your leaving is a horribly unwelcome reminder that life outside of and after school is a very real, tangible thing. And it is very close. I will have to apply to college. I will have to give in my IAs, start my EE and actually do all the things I keep complaining about having to do. If I have anything to say to you guys, it’s, please don’t go. I am not ready to burst the bubble.
And lastly, I know I probably shouldn’t feel too many feelings about you guys going. I mean, yeah its a big deal, but I probably only talked to four of you enough to warrant any sort of emotion or opinion on your Graduation, but honestly there is a lot going through my head. For instance, how much it sucks that I didn’t make friends with more than four of you. And how much I wanted to get to known some of you guys, and I always postponed actually approaching you. How some of you (based on your grades and TOK Presentations) seem like such insightful, interesting people that I really wanted to have conversations with, but never actually did. I want to have a legitimate reason to be there for your big day, aside from explaining the significance of the lighting of the lamp- and I know that that’s stupid, and selfish and that this is less of a farewell and more a self pitying list of reasons why something that has literally nothing to do with me actually has everything to do with me, but I feel like it is important to know that you guys have made an impact, and it isn’t going unnoticed.
To the graduating class of 2016, you may not know it, or care, but I really appreciate your existence. You guys, without ever knowing it, helped me get through much of my school life just by screwing up and surviving, which if nothing else, is a great way to get over the stress of missed deadlines and failed exams. And even though your impact on my life means very very little to you, know that I am grateful and I always will be.
So, you know, good luck and stuff. I’ll provably check your Facebook profiles in a year just to see if I’m on the right track.
Thanks,
At least one of your juniors
Above Average
Teenagehood comes with the shocking realization of just how average you really are. I mean, unless you aren’t. But, if you think about all the math you weren’t paying attention to, it isn’t likely, or even possible for everyone to be as “above average” as we’re all constantly reminded of as kids. The pressure put on us to be special is a lot bigger than it seems. From the time we are nothing but babies, we’re immediately labelled “unique” and “one-of-a-kind” and told that we’re going to change the world… Teachers say she has the potential to get full marks in everything all the time. Your parents say that you could be the next president of the United States! (No, sweetie, it doesn’t matter if you’re Indian. You’re a special little cookie and you can do anything!). It’s the “you can do anything” message that fucks us up. No parent wants to let their child know that they’re most likely to end up with 2.5 kids and a 9-5 job. And no kid needs to hear that. But I know that my parents and teachers told me for ten years how incredibly “above average” my intelligence was. My mum told me too often how beautiful I looked. How I had that ‘presence’ that other people just didn’t. And even though, as I got older and my grades started reaching that comfortable point, or my Instagram posts got a decent number of likes, but nothing remarkable, and nothing I did, or said was noteworthy enough to single me out in a group of people and notice me- even then, I held on to this deeply ingrained belief that I was above average, maybe a little misunderstood, but definitely an incredible product of nature.
Sure, reality kicked in, of course it did. Teachers soon realised that I had to set realistic goals for university, and stopped telling me to aim for the highest grade, (notably, my physics teacher mentioned very earnestly that I could easily score a 60% if I just tried hard enough). But the thing is, if I had been aware of what the word average implied when I was seven, I might not have felt like a total disappointment almost ten years later. Although, I’d probably still be this dramatic, I am a teenage writer after all.
But basically, this is me coming to terms with the fact that I’m not the girl in the movie who can just see through the broody mysterious guy’s mask. I’m not the girl who walks into a room and has all eyes on her. I am not remarkable. Which isn’t to say I’m suddenly boring and bland- I, despite myself, still think I’m a fairly engaging person- it’s just that I fall into the masses, as most of us do. And I’m still not ok, and I’m still going to reblog edgy art on Tumblr to make myself feel important, but at least I’m not disillusioned.
I sound so self indulgent and annoying, but please bear with me, I don’t have problems real enough to write about, this will have to do…
In Review
I started this year in Bombay, and I’m ending it in Bombay. Which I think is a great way of wrapping a great year in with a bow.
This year, I did a Pinterest-y thing and had a bowl labelled ‘Great Things of 2015’ in which I dropped in little notes every time something made me happy. This morning I finished reading them and I’m so glad I did this because I forgot so many of these things and remembering them was so amazing, because it takes no reminders to be fixated on the shitty things that happened to me, but when I’m reminded of how many great things happened, it leaves me pretty optimistic for next year.
So, if you’re interested, here are some of the things that made me happy in 2015:
– My friends and I went to Humming Tree for a gig and it was one of the most amazing nights ever
– I went up to a helipad with two of my favorite people at sunset
– I went for the most amazing holiday with one of my best friends to Kerala, not Mangalore
– I drove up to Coonoor and the sky was so starry and there were fireworks and oh man it was beautiful
– Daisies
– I was a part of RoundSquare which was actually so nice
– Just, all the music. Oh my god, the music
– The first time I got drunk *ahem*
– A few 2 a.m conversations
– Faerie lights and Vance Joy and being alone
– This one time I went up on stage and sang and I was with all my friend and it was so magical
– Cards Against Humanity
– Delhi/Agra/Jaipur
– These sleepovers that made me laugh till my sides hurt
– My mum and I imitating literature from different countries
– Gallivanting around the city
– This one history presentation I did
– Receiving praise for my writing
-The sweetest card ever from these kids I taught
-The week we spent teaching them
Ok there’s way too many to put down but this is what I’ve got off the top of my head. 2015 has been one of the best, most eventful years ever and I’m really excited for midnight.
Also this blog, which I didn’t put down because I’ve had it since 2014, but I love it and I’m glad its lasted me this long.
Happy New Year folks, good luck.
Ciao,
Kiana
Resolution 2.0
Dedicated to this one person who doesn’t know who they are.
———
So last years “resolutions” worked out pretty well I think, and I’m pretty pleased with how I’ve handled my life in 2015. For 2016 I do actually have a really legit resolution, that I’m going to keep private, but I’m definitely going to work on.
That being said, it’s not as though what I’ve learned this year will just be my shining moment of 2015: everything I decided last December still stands. I am still going to try and spread love and appreciation around me, maybe more subtly next year, but definitely not less. I’m going to always try and be aware of each moment that I’m living, even the if I’m not writing it down, I’m going to live for the present and a little bit for the future, and while I won’t forget the past, I definitely won’t live trying to change it. I’ll try being more actively into world news. I think its really important, and that I just don’t do it the way I should. Also, a little stupid and cliche, but I need good grades, so that’s there too.
Some stuff I learned from this year is maybe that I shouldn’t rely on other people and outside stimulation as much as I do. I should be enough for me. Also, I barely read any books this year, and that has to change. I’ve forgotten how much I love reading and how my writing has suffered because of this, (this is not a universal rule, you don’t have to read a lot to write well). And while I hate IB reflections more than I hate a lot of things, introspection is a great quality to have.
I’ve learned a lot of things from a lot of people, and I never used to really take life advice, but now I’ve found that everyone has amazing insights into life that can really help you, so I am going to be more open to suggestion and advice.
Also, one of the most important things I’ve learned this year is to listen for absolutely any nice music, from anywhere. If I hear anything I like, playing in a restaurant, in a movie, an advertisement or on SoundCloud’s recommended , its always a good idea to find the song and keep it with you. Also, I know music can be super personal, but try sharing it, you get exposed to so much. (All this being one of those life suggestions from other people that I was talking about). My 2015 music intake has increased dramatically and I’m so grateful.
So this is what I’ve gotten from 2015, and while I honestly believe I’ve learned the world’s secrets this year, I’m sure I have a ton of lessons coming my way. And I hope I don’t forget any of them.
So that’s me, and while this year has been full of changes, I think I’ve come out of it pretty well, and I hope you guys have too.
Ciao,
Kiana
A Toast to December
Its the curtain call
Here’s to 335 nights
Here’s to the mornings;
Here’s to being acutely aware of my happiness, living it and absolutely feeling it.
Here’s to being sad, it happens, it’ll keep happening and here’s to being ok with that.
Here’s to all the firsts and all the lasts, you will be remembered. You may be forgot.
Here’s to the boy who had a place in my heart, thank you for being a beautiful concept.
Here’s to all the boys who I may fall for next year,
Here’s to home; homes
and here’s to family.
Here’s to the new friends. I love you for now, here’s to the old friends. I still love you, good job.
Here’s to the hard work and the procrastination. Here’s to procrastination…
Here’s to sticking with my resolutions
Here’s to all the love
Here’s to the new looks, the makeup and the hair; here’s to confidence
Here’s to the books and the words, I’m sorry I didn’t read you, sorrier still that I didn’t write you.
Here’s to all that I missed (Ed Sheeran live)
Here’s to 16, and overrated.
Here’s to insignificance
Here’s to being eternally terrestrial
Here’s to December, I wish you the best.
Where am I supposed to find a story?
“A writer is the sum of their experiences”, and mine exist only in my head. My experiences are wishful thinking, online conversation and one vaguely tipsy night (which ended a little too early to be scandalous). I try to fish out words and create meaning out of thin air. I try to create fiction- magic. But a rare few are blessed with the power to spin worlds out of words and nothing else. The rest of us use our memories. And therein lies the root of my problem- I don’t have memories. None that deserve a place on paper anyways. My inspiration stems from movies and fleeting crushes. My blood doesn’t flow through my ink; the words printed on the pages aren’t my veins, scratched into stories. This is the closest I’ve been to a reflection of my soul. God, I fucking hate that word.
I want to be a writer, I want to speak legions and evoke laughter, tears and gasps- speechlessness. I want to be able to fill 383 pages of real shit that holds a special place in at least one person’s heart, but I can’t. I haven’t the age, the experience, the foolishness, the maturity. I don’t have my shit together and I know it, but sometimes I wish I could at least string a coherent sentence at a time that wasn’t 2:15 in the morning. I wish that my words weren’t either cheap shot at writing about writers block (ha ha, the cliched irony) or a blatant reflection of the last good piece I read. I wish that my fleeting crush could grow so something new could happen to me for once. I know I’m young, but fifteen isn’t too young to fall in love or feel something so wild that I need to record it. I know people who have lived short lives worth a novel- a novel that I would die before writing. What a nightmare, to be inspired by someone else’s story, in which you take no part. To speak volumes about forevers and never agains on behalf of someone without the vocabulary (or the inclination) would feel a lot more desperate than I am willing to get. I want to be- I need to be a writer, but I haven’t found my story yet, and I don’t know how long I can’t wait
A tonal shift 