avanthikasilhouettesposts

[avanthikasilhouettesposts]

[avanthikasilhouettesposts]

#positivevibes

#positivity

#hope

#selflove

#selfcare

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A GUILTLESS THIRST (short story)

I hear the noise of something getting broken, but is it the expensive glass that slipped of my hand or something within myself? May be I'm also shrinking into small particles along with these shattered pieces of the crystal cut whiskey glass. The uncountable nerves keep tormenting me from head to toe, trying to break out of my skinnier body. The only part which feels at ease is my head, as that call has emptied out the rights and lefts of my mind. I hug my pillow with all my might, hoping to calm my upset stomach and tensed chest. Running towards the yard, I threw up out of extreme stress, but failed to desert my memories along. Even her pretty smile I used to admire turned into a terrible memory that provokes my anxious heart.

It will be a lie if I describe this news as unexpected, because I had foreseen it a long time ago. I saw the devilish misfortune coming towards everyone subsequently. But still, this is too unfair, because Arathi was the only light that reflected upon me in this terrible darkness.

Only after living in this horrendous dystopia of bloodshed, I realized how peaceful my life was before. I lost count of time and date ever since I began residing here, a place where clouds are filled with blood rather than water, and vivid colours of vibrion are overshadowed by terrible shades of red. When my feelings began to get numbed in this hell, she lighted the first ray of hope to my life.

For me, she was a mood enhancer who turned even my pessimistic thoughts into something meaningful. She kept hoping for a better tomorrow, avoiding the reality of human greed and its consequences. My ears had worn out from her advice to consider the troublesome present as a dark age before a bright future, where all those violence would just be some memories of a peaceful city. But, I knew some futures were supposed to remain as futures forever.

My desire to see her one last time gave some strength to my body. May be my mind is being generous enough to fulfill my last dream, the dream of giving away the words I left unuttered with a kiss on her frozen head. But, how am I supposed to look at her face when it doesn't bloom that pretty smile anymore? May be I never had a right to see her happy face as I always ignored the sorrowful shadow it carried. But, what made her do such a thing? What was wrong with her life? Was it too miserable that she had no choice but to give up on it? I can't think of anything other than suspicions on her incredulous act. The things she liked and admired are injecting a sense of despair in my mind, reminding me how our last breath blows off even the slightest joy of our achievements.

I took a cab to reach Gonola street, the place where she was found dead. Reaching there, I ran towards her flat room, devastated and anxious at the same time. The sight when I opened the door took me aback, forcing me step backwards. The heart touching lines I piled up for her eulogy got vanished in the weight of her breath.

"You are okay?"

I wondered why I heard such an absurd news.

"Look at the blood in your hands."

She said, startled at my sudden appearance.

"Oh! I'm bleeding. When did I get injured?"

I raised my eye brows in surprise.

"You are not injured Ren. It's not even your blood."

She seemed disturbed by my presence.

I looked at my hands carefully, trying to recall how it happened. When I observed closer, my brownish hand seemed pretty in that red bathe. I noticed my drained throat that's eager to satisfy thirst.

"Was it you, the one who spread false news? "

While licking the tasty blood, I asked.

"You despised coming hear even if I requested, right? Then why are you desperate now? I think I know why.

Because you are a filthy vampire who is fond of cold blood... "

She replied with disgust.

Her contempt isn’t strong enough to cause me guilt, as my eyes overshadowed my hearing when they wandered around seeking a perfect corpse to suck in more blood.

© Avanthika

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#shootmeintheheart

#mentalhealth

#lunaticjokes

#offensivejokes

#tragiclife

#selfreflection

Lunatic jokes _ A Reflection of Society's Standards of Normality

Have you ever had a good laugh from a lunatic joke? Then, this article is for you.

"We should take him to mental hospital."

"She might have forgotten to take her medicine today, that's why she is behaving like that"

You are certainly familiar with these dialogues, right? I also grew up hearing such lunatic jokes and yes, I have used them so many times for pleasure. From the beginning, lunatic was a comic word for me, a word to tease my friends. I had also heard real life stories of some mental patients in my neighborhood and family, but all of them had a sudden full stop at that point where they became mentally unstable. That's where all stories ended. Like the story tellers, I also assumed, it was the end. But, the stories weren't over, they just lost readers. People stopped reading when the title characters were out of certain social standards. But, who decides these so called standards? I didn't think of it, because I wasn't curious. For me, they were lunatics, not people..

When I watched 'Shoot Me In The Heart' a 2014 korean movie, the lunatic asylum they portrayed haunted me for a while. It wasn't because of the story or the situations of the characters. I just felt ashamed of myself for the jokes I made about such a misfortune. I realized it wasn't funny at all, because no funs are born out of tragedies. And I had this thought. What had they done to deserve this? Why did they end up like this? May be they lost it when they couldn't survive with the right senses here. May be it is too hard to survive here with a tender heart. May be they were normal enough to lose their minds one day.

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#Tillthelastbreath

#Durjoydutta

#Indiannovels

#Tumblrreaders

Till the Last Breath _ A slow poisonous read which kicks in the value of our lives...

What boosts our urge to live more than death? Till the Last Breath underlines this point. Read here the full review.

Durjoy Dutta's 'Till the Last Breath' is a heart wrenching portrayal of how hopeful someone's last moments can be. As the title indicates, the novel is a realistic narration of human's urge to live to the fullest till the last breath.

The melancholic novel revolves around a hospital room of two dying patients _ one is a cheerful girl in her teenage who values every breath she takes and the other one is a rude young man who threw away every possibility of his survival. They have nothing in common other than the predictable guestship of death.

The magic of the narration lies in the unfolding of different bonds within a single room. The author has beautifully captured every mild moment perfectly, whether it is hope, grief or despair. He just unwraps a bundle of emotions other than narrating some tragic incidents.

The way the characters hold on to every shred of their lives before they get taken away mumbles how valuable someone's life is. The author never casts them in a spell of magical romantic sequences, but lets them spill the overpowering of emotions like friendship, parenthood and self love. More than an emotional story, 'Till the Last Breath' is a mirror that reflects the characters' true selves at their atmost fragility.