Withdrawal Symptoms and the CME (Part Three)

Part Three:      C  ME   Now. 

(for Part One and Two, visit here and here.)

"There are no happy endings.

Endings are the saddest part,

So just give me a happy middle

And a very happy start."

~ Shel Silverstein

We never exactly got off to a very happy start, and neither did some of us have a happy ending. But that's life, isn't it? Happy endings are for the Cinderellas and Prince Charmings. For us, we are all just trying to find our happy middle. Like those happy hours in the library. (Happy? Kill me NOW.)

But no, seriously. Think about it. Think about those tiny moments of laughter and silliness. Human moments stolen from hours of being a zombie, slogging off through books, thinking about pebbles and helicopters. 
.
And hey, CMEs come and go. What you have is all those memories of the middle. And the middle is what matters. What you and I will take back from the CME is not a rank. Yes, it is a bonus. 
But what we take back is experience. And you have it.
So who said you lost out on anything?

Dust yourself, pat yourself on the back. Lift your chin up. And look straight ahead.

What do you see?

IME - Return to Zombieland! 


Naw, just kidding. I just meant for you to see that there is so much beyond CME. 

And for those who did get selected after the HUGE gracious move by the MCA, (I eat my words. They aren't THAT scary.) 

See ya in the moot court,

singing SEE ME NOW!

I got my suit and tie
And I don't know if y'all know
Well, maybe y'all do
Or maybe y'all don't 
But I don't really care
It's how we on it all the time
So I'mma get my Arguments, let's go!


{Ps. NOT a Kanye West fan.}

Love, For Sale.

You know what they say

If it comes easy

You let it go the same way

I hear, they have stores here

That claim ‘everything sells’

So I put my heart out there

Waiting for the best bargain

Gone are the days

Of romantic fate

I’ve debts to pay,

I’ll give and take.

Do I hear any takers?

Love is for sale.

Withdrawal Symptoms and the CME (Part Two)

Part Two:        C ME   Go. 

(for Part One, visit here.)

What's a withdrawal symptom?

Google tells me it's "any physical or psychological disturbance (as sweating or depression) experienced by a drug addict when deprived of..."

Umm... Hell no?

Withdrawal symptom is what happens to you when you've been given a one way ticket OUT of Zombieland and for reasons unbeknownst you REFUSE the ride.

But a lot of zombies did take the ride and left us 150-something odd ones to fight for survival.

Between stolen photocopies and hushed discussions I discovered that some of these zombies had excellent scavenging abilities.

I saw a dark side to them. Angry zombies. Kleptomaniac zombies. Sleep-deprived zombies that were ready to beat me to pulp for consuming their precious time.

Zombies walking around with pens and highlighters in their pockets, carrying books heavier than their own weight. Zombies disappearing behind a heap of photocopies.

Zombies wary and distrustful of each other.

I felt like I was in The Hunger Games.

For the first time, these poor harmless zombies seemed blood thirsty. They still may not have wanted to eat your brain, but they sure did want what was in it.

Days went by, and the concept of nights disappeared.
I, despite myself became a zombie too.

My swollen face and puffy eyes would have won me a part in Scream 5. I felt like punching people for no reason. Or maybe because they existed. Or maybe because I existed. I felt like giving up. I felt like going to SLEEP.

And then came the day of war. The day of submission of the Memorials.

I saw people struggling to complete their Memorials. I saw them falling over each other to get them printed.

And a little before 5.30, I submitted mine.

The whole MCA atmosphere was scary and intimidating. Heck, even the junior volunteers (to-be MCA members in training I guess) were scary.

I was very grimly reminded that I was late. I shamefully nodded back.

I left the room, still shaken by the spine-freezing creepy atmosphere.

I felt light, I felt happy. Like a huge weight had been lifted.

But only after I saw beyond by own exhilaration did I see it.

As promised, I saw the bloodshed.

 I did witness the massacre.

I saw people crying.

I wanted to go up to them, comfort them. But what words did I have to comfort them with?

I saw their memorials, strewn, like war victims that couldn't make it.


And just like that, I stopped seeing zombies. I started seeing people.

Broken people. More human, more vulnerable than anyone I had seen.

We were all hurt.

They were hurt because they hadn't made it. I was hurt because I had. Without them.

And then,


One by one,

they left,

Leaving me all alone.

In Zombieland.

Withdrawal Symptoms and the CME (Part One)

Part One:      I...   C  ME. 

If you happen to visit the Symbiosis Law School library anytime soon, you'd find it has transformed itself into a temporary haven of zombies. 

Zombies in different shapes, sizes, colors and forms. Zombies pouring over books resembling assault weapons and zombies typing away furiously at their laptops.

But you can't miss one when you see it. They're peculiar. They're unmistakable. 

They all wear the same expressions: 

Furrowed brows
And faces screwed up in a scowl.

Yes, we the CME participants.

Except, they don't eat brains. (But you'd be surprised to note, some of them do!) 

Instead, their brains eat away at them. Slowly, and painfully.

You can see them, these harmless zombies, suffering under the weight of their own mind, that rips and tears at their soul, piece by piece, as it grows, heavy with fear, depression and worry. 

Till you find them, eyes empty, staring away in space. A pen hanging limp in their hands. Ruffled hair. Papers scattered. Battered and shaken. Stealing a long luxurious moment away from their reality.

Their reality goes by three simple letters. 

CME. 

The Central Moot Eliminations. What law students live (Are they alive? I poke one to find out. It winces at me. Yes, they're alive.) for. 

They continue staring away in space. And I continue staring at them. Trying to figure them out. Trying to come to terms with the one reality that threatens to consume us all. 

And then I hear myself whisper; 'I withdraw.'

One decision. That's all I have to make. 

One letter. And I can kiss this Zombieland goodbye for good. 

I write it. With firm fingers, I write my withdrawal letter, and I smile triumphantly, after a long, long time.

And then I look back at the rest of the zombies. I pity them now. 

I won't be one of them anymore.

I feel like a war survivor. 

I wonder what stops them from making the decision. They're weak, I reason.

But I look at them more closely.

I don't see broken people. Yes, they are shaken. Shaken by the thought of the war they're preparing for. 

And then it hits me, that I am no war survivor without even participating in one. I am a refugee. 

I look at them more clearly now. Their eyes may be staring away into void. But I don't see void in their eyes. In their eyes, I see determination. I see them, readying themselves. I see a dream. 

And I don't need a mirror to see that the void that I thought they're all staring at, is in my eyes.

And I don't pity them anymore, I pity myself.

Silently I tear off the withdrawal letter,

and join the rest, staring away in space.

Voodoo Girl

Voodoo Girl 

by Tim Burton

Her skin is white cloth,
and she's all sewn apart
and she has many colored pins
sticking out of her heart.

She has many different zombies
who are deeply in her trance.
She even has a zombie
who was originally from France.

But she knows she has a curse on her,
a curse she cannot win.
For if someone gets
too close to her,

the pins stick farther in.”

When I Die

When I Die

by Merrit Malloy

When I die
Give what's left of me away
To children
And to the older generations that wait to die.
And if you need to cry
Cry for your brother
Walking the street beside you.
And when you need me.
Put your arms
Around Anyone
And give them
What you need to give me.

I want to leave you something.
Something better
Than words
Or sounds.

Look for me
In the people I've known
Or loved.
And if you cannot give me away.
At least let me live on your eyes
And not on your mind.

You can love me most
By letting
Hands touch hands.
By letting
Bodies touch bodies.

Love doesn't die.
People do.
So, when all that's left of me
Is love,
Give me away.

Wordweavers Contest - Reader Review

Okay, so did I tell you that my entries for the Wordweavers Contest 2013 have been longlisted? (the one that comes before shortlisting)

No? Well now you know! =)

So what's in it for you?

Yeap. I'm getting there.

You see, Wordweavers has added a new element in their contest wherein, they're rewarding good readership! 

Eh? What is that?

You'll find a longlist of entries for each genre here on their website. All you've got to do is:

Go to the website. Here.

Click on the big and bold link saying "Be Our Reviewer & Win". It's right there. You can't miss it!

No? Okay. Click here. This is where the link leads you.

You'll find 5 genres listed here: Poetry, Flash Fiction, Short Story, MicroFiction and Long Story.

Click on the longlist for each section, read the stories and write a review on them!

Read the instructions before reviewing (they want quality reviews about the story with at least 3 valid lines)

What does that fetch you?

BOOKS!

Yes! Freebies. Who doesn't love them? =D

You could win some Popular Fiction/Classics Books for being such a great reviewer! They have upto 2 reviewer awards.

Also, if you happen to review my stories/poem, you get lots of love from me too! 

To make things easier for you, here are the links to my entries for all the genres: you can click on them directly to read and write a review on them.

Poetry: http://wordweavers.in/poetry_2013_shortlisted_34.html

Flash Fiction: http://wordweavers.in/flash_fiction_2013_shortlisted_9.html

Short Story: http://wordweavers.in/short_story_2013_shortlisted_11.html

Twitter Fic: http://wordweavers.in/microfiction_2013_shortlist_twitterfic.html

Drabble: http://wordweavers.in/microfiction_2013_shortlist_drabble.html

55 Fiction: http://wordweavers.in/microfiction_2013_shortlist_55_fiction.html

To follow the developments of the contest, like Wordweavers on Facebook.

And Follow WordweaversContest on Twitter.

Inked!

I have been Inked!

No, I didn't get a tattoo.

Even better, one of my articles has been published on the website of Penguin Inked. Be sure to check the article and the website!

http://www.penguininked.com/2013/07/what-i-learnt-from-the-diary-of-anne-frank-heema-shirvaikar-guest-post/

Reverse

I look into my rear-view mirror
I see what I left behind
Reverse,
Tempted, For a moment I relive the drive

On the long journey reverse
I fill myself to the brim,
The smoke from the past
Clogs and chokes my being
Suffocated,
I Exhale,
For a moment I feel renewed and alive.

I realise,
There was nothing 
I could have picked up,
On the way
There had been no love lost.
And none found either.