A thousand and one stories #8 Bras

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Meet the person who inspired these Vardhan Chronicles @SidharthVardhan

 

Bras are like marriage. It’s uncomfortable. You don’t need it but society has convinced you that you do.

When Whitney gave her wise philosophies, everyone listened with fascination. Never believing a word of it. Or adhering to it. Just finding it intriguing and then moving on with their mundane existences. They didn’t understand that she had a higher level of thinking. The things she said were uncomfortable to normal minds but true nonetheless.

They just saw her as a curious being who sometimes said things and did things randomly. But Whitney knew different. She had urges and couldn’t help but succumb to them. Any word or sentence or thought that came to her mind had to be conveyed to the outside world. Every crazy idea had to physically manifest itself. She had no filter and no self-control. She couldn’t hold it back even if she wanted to.

Sometimes it drove her crazy. But it drove the people around her to curiosity and madness. A madness to be around her during those periods of insanity because though they couldn’t understand it, follow it or imitate it, they were allured by it.

These urges constantly got her in trouble. Such trouble that any other person would glad to be in. But not Whitney. No, she was painted a  different shade. Even the canvas was surprised to see it.

But sometimes it made good things come her way too. Which she naturally avoided because of another one of her philosophies about Karma being a bitch and there being a Karmic balance for every amount of happiness and luck.

Everything was going just fine and Whitney had gotten used to the unwanted attention she got wherever she went. She forgot names and faces of people because there was so much more in her mind. Such thoughts and ideas, such things that had to make it out there in the world and she couldn’t figure out a medium to do it

Until the day she fell in a hole. Now the hole’s figurative. It was a hole of boredom, sadness and loneliness.

All the unwanted attention had gone away and now she wanted it.

All the urges had gone away and now she wanted them too and at that point, all lost and empty, she came across an empty page. And she felt the urge again, the urge to fill it.

The first words she wrote came as a compulsion and then they came pouring out of her. She couldn’t stop. She kept writing till her hand ached and even then she didn’t stop because there was so much to share. So many ideas. So many words

And while she stayed in that hole, she kept her hands moving. And she didn’t look up to see, she had moved out of the hole already.

The attention came back, so did the urges, so did the good things and the karmic balance. But she was indifferent to it all for she was focused on something else now.

She inhaled the worlds and exhaled the words.

And when she stopped. Oh yes, she did stop.

A person came forward to pick up the page.

It was empty, still. And she couldn’t have written it any better.

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