Patterns

Have you spent evenings that turned to nights and then days where all you could do was read meaningless internet articles to feel some semblance of relatability to the rest of world? Have you ever felt hollow emptiness when the words blurred screen flickered into darkness like your eyelids because exhaustion made them too heavy?

It's been close to four months since I last wrote something. And even though the words have been creating a prickling itch in my palms for the last couple of weeks, I've just run away from this ultimate form of confrontation with myself because I hate confrontation with the people I care about. I care about myself. I care about the people I love. So I run, I run from them and I run from myself, I bottle it up and I seek refuge in animation films that I've already watched. I seek fleeting comfort in a listicle which will make a point that I temporarily relate to. 

Patterns. They are everywhere. Maybe they had always been there, and it is now that I have begun to notice them. Patterns in the people I choose to keep close, patterns in the people who hurt me, and how they hurt me, patterns in my coping mechanisms, patterns in relationships and how they turn out that I wish didn't exist - but they do. 

Someone told me it was karma, because it seemed too much of a coincidence that people in my life had such similar life stories. Someone said it was the cultural baggage we come from. We will all have these back stories, these disagreements with our parents, these scarring experiences by the time we are in our mid-twenties. That's why we relate. Someone said, "It's just your luck. Accept it."

Have you ever, solitude-lover, felt afraid to unlock your bedroom and step out alone because you felt crushing loneliness on the inside? Have you realized how unfair it is to make one person your rock and put the entire weight of your expectations on their human shoulders, because the sets of shoulders that shared those burdens dwindled one by one? 

Have you felt an alienation so deep that you want to crawl out of your skin and reverse the life events that led to this moment? Have you ever wanted to reverse every single memory you hold close because right at this minute you couldn't give a rat's ass about all those people who made it so special because you don't seem special enough to them right now? Are they fucking blind? Or are you expecting too much? Have you tried distracting yourself with work and failed miserably? Has the vast music collection you pride yourself on failed you too because all those thumping beats and lilting melodies made you feel nothing?

Distractions. That is what it has come down to. Lame, sad, pathetic distractions. Browsing hours, reading screens and choking about woes of 90 minute lives of cartoon characters because they seem so much nicer than their real life counterparts. Exposition-conflict-resolution. Simple. A happy ending. Box after box of tissues which reek of deja vu even though there's no such tragedy seems to have struck. Get some half-hearted work done, because hey you're too cowardly to say "fuck you" to those goddamn deadlines.

And guess what? That's a pattern too. 

Dear future dog

Dear future dog,

I know this will mean nothing to you because you will not be able to read this. Humans haven't quite figured out a way to communicate in the same language as you, which is a shame; otherwise I swear I would have translated this to you. But I promise you that the fact that we speak different tongues will never make you feel like I don't understand you. I know it will be difficult initially but trust me, we will figure out a way eventually. 

I am 21 years old as I write this and will soon turn 22. I have been very confused as a person about what I want to do in life and what I want to be but there is one thing I have been sure of for years now - you. I know love is not enough as much as we'd want it to be. So I am just waiting for the time when I have enough space, finances and time in my life to give you the best care that I can.

Now see, I know you are going to give me sleepless nights sometimes. I know you will have mood swings too. I know we will antagonize each other plenty in the time that we are together. I don't expect our relationship to be a bed of roses or a happy box of treats because it will be as real as any other relationship. I know being with you will be like having a child and though I will be much older than you when we are together, we will grow together, I promise.

You know there have been so many times I have thought of you, thought of who you will be and what quirks and pet peeves you will have. I have had so many conversations with... um, I guess they'll be your ancestors? Cause, well, you aren't born yet. So yeah, I have had so many conversations with your ancestors in the two decades of my life I have seen so far. And so, I promise you language will never be a barrier between us. I will tell you all about my day and you can tell me how much you've missed me (or not missed me). I swear I won't push you away if you lick my face. I know it's your way of expressing yourself and I think it's beautiful. 

You know I hate waking up early in the morning. So far, my family, my friends and so many others have tried to inspire me to change that part of my lifestyle. They have failed. MISERABLY. I think I know why. Perhaps, you are meant to change that about me, because I know we will go for lots of walks together. I promise you will not be a mere plaything, a sad source of entertainment. I will walk with you, talk with you and cuddle with you too. Oooh and, we will watch films together. I swear I will hug you every time you get jumpy because of a scene in the film. I won't stop you when you run around barking and chasing your tail when you're excited. Well, unless you are about to knock something down. And I will treat you with your favourite food every birthday of yours. Unless you're allergic to it. Then we will figure out something else. But we will celebrate your birthdays with new toys and games and food and quality time. I promise.

There will be times when I may be gone but I will never leave you in untrustworthy hands. And I will always come back to you. I promise I will give you as much as you give me, if not more. You will have a friend in me, not a mistress. We will have our own little private jokes and tricks. I will let you be naughty and I will scold you when you are too naughty. I know you will let me know when I am not doing my bit too. You will never be in want of love and attention as long as I am there. 

We will grow together. I would watch you become who you grow up to be. We will understand what we need from one another and when.  I will never, ever put you in harm's way. And I know we will take care of one another, in our own little ways. 

You may fall sick sometimes and so will I. But I will NEVER abandon you, no matter how difficult it gets. You could have patchy fur, or be half-blind, three-legged or injured (although I hope you are not, for your own sake, not mine) - I will be there with you till the very end, no matter how much it hurts. I could move across seven oceans, I could be broke for food or money - but I will never let you go. 

You see, I will not see you as an animal. You will never be my 'pet'. You will not just be my companion.  Blood isn't the only thing that forms bonds, you know. You will be my family. And I will be your constant, ALWAYS.

PS. You may have had a difficult life when I meet you. You may have had to fight for every morsel and you may have watched your brothers and sisters die, or may have fought them to establish yourself in the dog eat dog world that would have been your home. You will probably have a darkness within you that stems from the apathy and cruelty meted out to you by creatures that I wish had half as much love as your kind do. You will probably have wariness etched too deep in your scars. But that's okay. I won't judge you and I will love you and all of your scars anyway, with all of my heart and more.

Love,

Your future friend

A different kind of chaos

You fluttered in like breeze and I felt you - through the strands of my hair and the gaps between my fingers. Ironically, the reason you stood out to me was how I was always aware of your presence without really sitting up and taking notice. I don't quite know how you managed that. Was it the infectious calm you exuded? Was it the unbelievable and infinite amount of patience you seemed to possess? Or was it just your aura? I can't put my finger on it.

Everything was still in place. You see, about a year ago, I had a plan. It was not one of those plans that we make every thirty-first of December and forget after the hangover the next morning. It was a serious plan with experiential roots. I was so sure I was going to see it through because I actually happened to like the routine it induced for once in my life. I still did not know what I wanted but I had a much clearer idea about what I did NOT want to do. My plan was rock solid.

Then my rock solid plan turned into a house of cards. And a breeze is enough to make it tumble; you don't really need the wind. As all my carefully arranged spades and hearts cascaded around me, I finally sat up and took notice. Still, I told myself, "You know what, I can make room for this. Everything is still going to be organized, just realigned." And so it was... for a while.

You know how triggers hide in the most inconsequential places? You can rid yourself of all the mirrors in the house, but your reflection could still find you in a clear dew drop on a chilly day. On a certain late evening, on an unexpected detour, circumstances were assigned and aligned and the trigger was pulled. With a silent shot, the last of the mirage that was my plan lay there in smithereens along with my denial. You had stirred up a storm and I was swept right off my feet.

Caught in the tornado, I had to confront the chaos that had crept (not swept) into my life. Words seemed to teeter at the edge of my tongue, refusing to form into speech. Heart beat fast, knees gone weak, thoughts caught in a web of my own confusion. I stood there - shocked and dumbfounded. You, you spoke your mind and my own was in a mess. 

But you know what? There was something about standing amidst all that wreckage that gave me hope. Hope, that I had told myself was gone from my life for a long time. Hope, that I had made myself believe I did not need. And here it was, shining at me through the eye of the storm, enveloping me in its warm glow.

It wasn't some divine intervention or an epiphany. It was you. 

You were the breeze, you were the storm, you broke my plans but most of all, you made the chaos seem okay. You grew on my skin like a vine and made me burst into colors I could only imagine. My waves were choppy and you were unwavering. You were the anchor that kept me grounded. Your essence painted me in hues that made mine come alive.

So, if you think I am going to tell you that you made it all fall into place, that it all makes sense now - you are wrong. 

You are my chaos. My world doesn't revolve around you but if you let go, it will cease to revolve. I don't need you around all the time, but your prolonged absence gives me a constant ache. You give me so much hope that I am afraid it will break me. You are not my everything, but everything seems so much brighter with you. My life won't stop without you. My heart will not stop beating. But walk away and it will merely go on. 

If this is not chaos, then I don't know what is. And you know what? You can wreck as many of my card houses as you want because I will build as many more with you. 

Dear Me

Dear Me,

It has been a while since your handwriting left ink on one part of me and impressions everywhere. It has been a while since I knew your happiest high, your most letting down low. It has been some time since you came to me, rushing through my pages like you couldn't wait to confide in me.

Covered in dust, I still see you. I see you when you smile when you don't want to and when it splits your face in two and your eyes sparkle. I see when your eyebrows tense in confusion because you cannot decipher your own mood. I see that negligible dimple form on your chin when you're so angry that you want to cry but you try not to laugh because you remembered something funny.

I see your hands when they start to approach me and then how your fingers slowly curl into your palm when you stop midway. I know you fear that you won't be able to write beautifully, convincingly, coherently. And I see the myriad of expressions on your face as they dissolve into one another while you muddle over all of this.

Have you forgotten, that I never judged you? Not when you told me that you didn't know where you were going, not when you told me you were afraid of being hurt but you couldn't help it, not when you told me that you felt like your heart kept running in circles. Never. I know how your heart ticks erratically, how your emotions play hide and seek and how your mind runs away your imagination. I know how you tell no one that your dearest dreams are those of love because you want to be seen as strong, fearless, independent.

I remember how you filled my pages without fear of judgment. I know how you childishly, religiously used different colors according to how you felt about what you wrote. You wrote in riddles so no one would know, but me. I remember how you trusted me with your quirks and hints, how for granted you took me and how I still love that.

As I lay a little dusty and unmoving yet constantly hopeful that you will remember how it was to write for yourself. I will wait for the day when you pick me up again and when your pen will not be poised, waiting to "presentable" words to come; like it is so often when you write for everything else. I will wait for the time when you find your way back to me, when you remember again that it is okay to be confused, erratic and flawed... and that it's beautiful.

Till then, I'm always here for you.

Yours,
Diary

And though the sand may be washed by the sea
And the old will be lost in the new
Well four will not wait for three
For three never waited for two
And though you will not wait for me
I'll wait for you
I'll wait for you
And I'll wait for you

- Patient Love, Passenger

Unconditionally

He came and then he left. She found a way to live without him, to smile without him, to move forward without him - she had to and she did. She didn't resent it. She didn't resent him. She didn't resent life. She never resented love. Yet, she thought of him every single day. Not in an incessant, saddening way; but like when you're so engrossed in something that you don't blink, but then you do. Simply because it is intrinsic. Natural.

She smiled to herself when she saw parts of him in others. It became a part of her which she had initially fought, wrestled, tried to uproot from within herself and then when it always came back to her, she made her peace with it. Sometimes, when the longing she kept so strictly leashed crept on her heart, her let her pillow absorb her tears. And then, she went on with her life.

She kept him close, but stayed afar from him. She missed their conversations - honest, silly and beautiful - but she never really talked to him the few times they actually made contact. They remained distant friends so to say, knowing somewhere that they each held a special place in the other's life. She knew that he was much more dear to her even in his absence than she was to him. She never spoke of it and time passed. Life wasn't bad.

Yet, she always thought of her life in two parts - Before Him and After Him. The time In Between was now a montage she had framed in her mind and preserved in her heart - a lifetime in itself. She would look through these frames, hands pressed against the glass, wanting to touch those memories, wondering what could have been; yet scared of disturbing them, lest she forget one tiny detail. Years past, her mind let not a speck of dust settle on them, their beauty intact.

It wasn't like she stayed lonesome or melancholy; she even loved again. But not the same way, never the same way. Her eyes grew blurry but her vision would always revisit those places. She spoke of him and to him, now and then. Conversations that were sometimes frustratingly empty, but she wanted to keep them going while they lasted. She wasn't unfaithful, no. She was just wanted to know anything she could about him.

You see, she had realized that what she kept so pristine in her heart was a mere memory. She loved, even worshiped that memory, but she realized he wasn't real in them anymore. Endlessly she would try to bridge the gap, seeking any tiny part of him that he or someone who knew him would give away in a careless sentence. She would grasp at every word, to discover some part of him that was real and new, and treasure it. She would try to balance it on her recollections of him to make the person in them seem closer to the one in reality, despite knowing he wasn't even close to their memories.

Until one day.

She dreamed of him, just like so many other times. But this time, a tiny little nudge came from within one of those dark recesses of her heart and she told him about her dream. It was nothing special, really. He was just there in it. Looking up his number, she was strangely calm as she typed out the message.

When he responded, they had their first real conversation in years. Maybe it was because he was at vulnerable place in his life, or because she realized at that moment, on that day, that her love for him was unconditional. She did not need to be with him, to kiss him, to touch him. She did not need for him to be in love with her. She realized that the time 'In Between' and even after it - time she had spend needing and wanting him - she was not chained to feeling that way. Her love for him now grew from her flesh and blood self to something unbound by time and spaces, weightless and free of expectation.

In that realization, she wrote, "I missed you." It was not an act of need this time. It was not even a sentence that could encompass everything she had felt for him, all these years she had spent wishing, hoping wondering, nor her parching thirst to hear his name, seeking any quirks of his that would make her thoughts of him closer to his physical, living, breathing, beautiful self. Yet, it was all she felt. After a long time, she acknowledged tides of familiar emotion break against her rapidly beating heart. The pillow lay there barren while her tears found their way to the dainty curve of her smile.

She was unafraid of losing what little she had grasped of him for the first time, maybe because she realized she did not need to want him. What she felt for him was not bound by anything anymore. It was powerful, free and endless.

She put aside her phone. Taking off her glasses, she sighed. As that gush of breath escaped her mouth, she felt herself getting light headed. Giving in, she fell back and her head hit the pillow. As her eyes closed, her smile was slight and serene. The waves of emotion were still crashing against her heart, and she felt the welcome pain in her chest. She had let go and it consumed her. Slowly, like vines around a tree, it closed around her like a beautiful coffin.

As she lay there with a smile on her face and her love set far and free, she was at peace. Unconditionally.

Home, wanted

It was food that touched my tongue and my eyes that responded. 

Daal Baati Choorma for dinner in the mess. As close to home as I could get.

It is amazing how the tiniest thing can inspire the strongest of the emotions; how it can unlock a surge of memories, tastes, smells and touches. And how disconnected and accidental tastes, smell and touches transport you into visions that transcend the boundaries of physical distance. It's funny how superficial physical proximity is that way, and yet it is so essential, so capturing.

We spend our entire lives trying to make homes out of places and then out of people; trying to see where we belong - culturally, intellectually, emotionally, habitually, spiritually. More often than not, these 'homes' don't even overlap. We hold the ends all these threads, trying to keep ourselves from coming apart at the seams. 

These threads - lifelines - they have a mind of their own, don't they? They keep us sane, being there so solidly until one day, suddenly, they are gone. And we are left grasping wisps that they leave behind. Some are lucky enough to find some that hold on to that one thing, that one lifeline that lasts them a lifetime - in physicality or in memory. For some, neither is enough. 

We lose our bearings for some time, but then, we keep some, we lose some, we find some. It goes on. We are always moving anyway aren't we? We don't stop. Moments become crystallized in memory, but we don't stop. Even if we tried to, we could not stop because life goes on. It is merely comfortable to think if such and such thing happens, my life will end. It never does. Cruelly, brutally, beautifully, indifferently, it goes on. We are left to play catch up. And if we don't, time takes its toll. 

Home is where the heart lies, they say. For some of us, the heart lies at the one place we call home. But then, as we go places, meet people, we make little homes in them, as they do in us. Conversations, touches, kisses, laughter, gestures or just a look shared for the briefest second - our hearts become home to so many loves, lives and moments. We paint a picture of 'home' in the very same hearts and keep it there while it yearns for the past, present and future. 

We meander our way through life making homes, breaking homes and missing homes. We are all changing a little bit with everyone who we touch who is trying to do the same. We are all connected that way - so superficially, invisibly and yet, so deeply. In the end, aren't we all trying to stand out and still trying to belong?

Because sometimes, I find myself craving for a cushion that makes me forget, even if it is momentary, how much I have grown up.

In Transit

You took my hand and led me to a place that no one knew but you. You let me make it my own. We saw the sky turn red, then grey and then we saw it get inked with reflections of lights that twinkled in the dark. We saw silhouettes of hills and try to demystify the secrets they held. Amidst blinking city lights, chilling wind and goosebumps, we laughed, we sang and then descended into a comfortable and comforting silence.  

How do you make sense of a state of mind which is in a state of recovery and rediscovery? 

A mind that is constantly in a sense of awe at the plethora of novelty that it is opening to, yet struggling to step out of a mold that it has been used to for an eternity in terms of numbers but only a few pages of life in terms of how it feels now? 

Blacks and whites are two ends of a spectrum but ones that hardly exist in life. Shades of grey are what color most of reality.

Memories find their way back to your vision at the most unexpected of times; but they feel alien - like they happened to someone else. Why? Maybe because she seems like a different person to you in hindsight. To her, you are a different person too. What changed so much and so quickly? Maybe the place, maybe the people, maybe the time. Definitely, you.

"Try and try till you succeed," they said. They never told you where to stop. And then, you tried life and it tried you. Did you lose yourself along the way? Or were you just in the process of finding yourself again?

To put it into words is a struggle in itself because so is making up your mind about it. "IT"? This whole journey from there to here and from here to so many other places and then back - each time adding some and taking some. 

Wearing, tearing, cutting, bending, breaking and molding all of all of your mind. 

Little by little, bits and parts of it everyday, making you question everything.

Covering, uncovering and recovering layers of things unknown, little known and known. 

Are we not always in some transition? Maybe sometimes more than others; like when big changes happen, or when little things change life in big ways. Somehow, we are always searching for something - love, hope, closure, excitement, satisfaction, ecstasy... always wanting, always something. 

And then, why not? Is life not too short to not keep striving for more? Is there not such little time and so much to experience? Are our hearts not too small to love the infinite number of things there are to love? Are our bodies not too superficial to feel the true warmth of a smile, the blissful comfort of a hug, the intense intimacy of touch, the innocent sight of a playful puppy and the tinkling sound of heartfelt laughter? 

But then, how much can you absorb at once, at a given point in time, in a lifetime? Will it not take a toll - this endless struggle for more, to know more, learn more and not go insane? Maybe that is why we shut our hearts and minds to certain pasts and presents and then we have certain futures, some of which we refuse to imagine but which happen anyway. 

Somewhere in all this madness and swirling thoughts in an overactive mind, there are moments of blissful peace, when we fall in love with all the chaos, where we somehow find music in noise, where we learn to see beauty in the jumble of hues that color our visions. 

Maybe that is the beauty of being in transit, because ultimately, is it not just a journey? 

Rajiv Chowk

Three years ago 

Life began to change subtly. I moved to Delhi and did not care to make much of a new city, a new kind of people, a new lifestyle. I thought, okay, I'll just take it in my stride. What could happen, right? I refused to feel homesick, or let myself feel the drastic change that this city, its air, its sun and its dust were. I thought to myself, let's just take it one day at a time; and take it one day at a time I did.

Three years later

I look in the mirror and attempt to find the girl who came to a new city, thinking she was ready for the world - armed with an open mind and an ability to make friends easily. This girl was soft, though she thought she had hardened. She thought she was stronger than she looked, but she did not know how much stronger she would have to be for the things that life threw at her. She trusted easily, laughed loudly and did not feel alone often. I search for that girl and ask myself if she is still there. A voice immediately answers, "yes," but it falters by the time it reaches the second syllable of the three letter word, as if seeking reassurance. I laugh and murmur to myself, aren't all of us looking for reassurance for something or the other? I look in the mirror one last time, looking into the eyes of my brown eyed reflection wondering if eyes are indeed windows to the soul.

****

Three years ago 

There was a new course of things in order. A new distance to cover in more than one way. On one hand, there was the distance that had begun to creep into love itself, established, taken for granted love, one akin to that which is felt for brothers and sisters and mothers and fathers, one that is felt for loves that last lifetimes. On the other hand, there was the physical distance, from everything and everywhere I needed to be. Every place was so far away, I felt so far away from all these spaces and places that were mine to make my own. And yet, everything was fine. One day at a time was doing its job well.

Three years later

Routines are more pregnant with habit and emptiness. There is a strong essence of normalcy in them, like the one you have when you put one foot in front of the other to walk. Without thinking, my hands reach towards the front pocket of my bag to take out my headphones. Plugging them in, I press play and activate shuffle, settling myself to stare at faces and colors and clothes and shoes for the next fifty minutes as my mind sings along, muddles and thinks random thoughts. Traversing this distance every day this is a routine of what life has become, its all its glory, all its welcome comforts, all its daily discomforts and all its habit.

****

Three years ago

Things begin to change. Feelings dormant rise to the surface, bubbling and frothing, demanding to be made sense of. A search for myself in this transition has become the state of my mind. Transition itself has become the state of life. Relationships old and new attempt to redefine themselves and me, through them. Questions and confusion with moments of clarity and happy coincidences are all the highs and lows that matter really. "It is only the moments that are going to matter when I look back," I think to myself and try to navigate through this labyrinth that I've been in but am just beginning to see. 

I listen carefully for an announcement rings overhead signalling that I have covered the distance. It comes and I make my way towards the door.

Three years later

The routine goes on as usual, the only difference being a certain fondness that has come to be associated with it, despite all its drudgery and apparent emptiness. "Is it really empty," I ask myself while looking at the tens of faces in front of me, at all these different lives converging, like mine, for this brief journey. I see routines like mine and feel a certain empathy with these complete strangers, these people I know nothing about except that our paths have crossed for a limited amount of time for no reason other than we are all in transit, albeit to different destinations. In these unfamiliar faces, I see reflections, merely superficial but connected by a very thin piece of thread for the shortest period of time.

There is a pause and my legs automatically move towards the door to mark the halfway milestone of this everyday journey.

****

Three years ago

This is my first journey by myself - a young girl in a big city, refusing to acknowledge it, the special treatment that it demands and the perspective it gives. I make my way atop the little overbridge inside the Rajiv Chowk metro station to go to the other side. Looking for signboards and making my way, I happen to glance down. What I see stops me in my tracks. 

Three years later

I sigh to myself as I reach my usual halfway mark. This is it, I think to myself. Trying to coax my unusually heavy heart, I make my way to the overbridge connecting the two platforms; thinking along the way if it will still have the effect that it did on my first time here. I wondered if the sight would still overwhelm me or would I just have gotten too accustomed to it. My steps hesitate while I consider that possibility. Regaining my pace, I make my way up, and look down.

And there it was, the first sight that made me realize how my life had changed and was going to change. The sight that made me stop and stare, that made me see the monster of a city that I was living in in terms of its sheer expanse - both physical and psychological, and how it threw my mind and my heart wide open to this gigantic maze and myriad of emotions and places and things that I had only imagined so far. 

Here was that sight again. There were throngs of people with a thousand different stories and a hundred different destinations. They were all moving in a maze of directions, jostling, pushing and just walking to get SOMEWHERE. There were not four or eight directions here; they seemed to be infinite. They were all movement and voices and shuffling and HEADS. That is all I could see. They were head moving in every possible directions and moving so close to each other that it seemed like there was no space for anyone else to step in; but then more people came and joined the buzz and the frenzy and yet they were all MOVING. And they kept on moving and I kept on staring at this sea of humans in this seemingly tiny space.

The sight overwhelmed me three years ago and it overwhelmed me yet again. I have survived this madness, I thought to myself, and I have even grown fond it! I had lived in this baffling city and I had been changed and shaped by it, even though I thought I did not let it get to me. But it had. It had seeped in like smoke through a keyhole and is some sneaky way, become a tiny part of me. Its voices, its sounds, its routines and its air had made their way into some reluctant part of my being and now that the time had come to leave, that little reluctant part was making all of my being hurt.

I walked down the bridge and waited for my metro. I mimed along with the announcements. I smiled because it was bittersweet. On my last metro ride in Delhi, I thought of how it was how Rajiv Chowk that shocked me into feeling this maddening place and now it was Rajiv Chowk and its madness that was hard to say goodbye to.

A Way of Life

I started,
Not to familiarize myself with you,
Not to get too close,
Not to make you my habit,
But you became a way of life.

I began,
To grow and learn,
To crash and burn,
To live and laugh,
To struggle and cry,
But I did not think you would be
A way of life.

I did not think
Every pothole down the road
All of the cracks in the dingy walls
The crass cries of unruly people
Would come to me
Clear as reality
When I closed my eyes.

I never anticipated
That those stifling classrooms
The untimely detours
The long hours of eloquent words
And men long gone
Would kindle
Nostalgia
Sadness
Longing

All the bitterness
All the regrets
All the questions
All the doubts
And all the sweetness
All the exceptions
All the trial
Became a part of me

I did not believe
That it would hurt
Like this

I thought I had succeeded
I thought I had not let you..this seep in
That I had kept you out
I thought I could be unattached
Free of your charm
Of your ugly, beautiful, bizarre magic
But you cast a spell
Made me a fly in your silver web

And now it is gone
Flown away
Taken with it
All its monotone
All its chains
All its shabbiness
All its highlights
All its beauty

I snapped my fingers
And I was back,
Back to the start
And I thought
I will do things differently,
This time around
I will be stronger
I will not bow
I will not crash and burn

I was wrong

I did it all my way,
And yet,
Our paths still crossed,
Like two comets on a collision course
That collision
Became my way of life.

Left Behind

It hangs like doom

Just above our heads

Our hearts

Threatening to come down

Crashing

It hangs like a dream

Tantalizing, terrifying

Just out of reach

There for me to grasp

And make my own

It hangs like uncertainty

Unclear and foggy

Threatening to engulf you

In a maddening maze

It spreads like lead

Through our hearts

Making them heavy

And our thread

Thinner, fainter

It spreads like fire

Through my being

Burning with pain

And passion

Both waiting

For direction

It spreads like dread

Through your insides

Making you ache and yearn

Wishing for time

To crystallize

Right here

It feels like
A thousand emotions

And no words

Misty eyes

And one syllable

Because I had wings

To take flight

To reach the stars

To claim the sky

And you

You could chase a tornado

You could claim the earth

You got left behind

"Bright lights, big city

She dreams of love

Bright lights, big city

He lives to run"

- Bright Lights, 30 Seconds to Mars

What it means to be Home

Home is unlocking the doors to dusty, unused spaces, adorned with walls and furniture; but the scrubbing does not feel so bad.

Home is the colors of red, white and grey, the television I seldom watch and two rooms.

Home is sleeping in a bed where the pillow is neither too flat nor too full but just right to cup my head.

Home is feeling of the bed soft enough for me to sink and strong enough to hold me.

Home is the sight of old books, long unread and drawers full of collected, hoarded and colorful treasures.

Home is the windowsill where I can hear music, feel the wind, watch the rain and conjure surreal scenarios in my head.

Home is the fancy, inadequate lighting to complain about, the smell of onion and garlic wafting through open doors and the low hum of a chimney occasionally inhabited by pigeons.

Home is going for evening walks in the perfect weather and lying on the grass, staring at the sky.

Home is flying on my dear Aviator, knowing where to go- that I will not be lost.

Home is when the "Ma calling" or "Home calling" flashes on my phone.

Home is going shopping with Ma that ends up in role reversal.

Home is waking up to the voice that tries relentlessly to correct my sleep cycle in a way only she can.

Home is watching television with my head on her lap and sighing in exasperation at all the melodrama onscreen.

Home is a lazy Sunday with Papa cribbing about no new movies airing on HBO.

Home is saying "Let's go for ice-cream!" and watching the eldest man become a pouting child because he thinks he got lesser ice cream.

Home is playing board games and UNO that are six months overdue, complete with the peeking and exclamations of “That’s cheating!”

Home is learning to talk in basic gaming jargon to bridge some three years short of a decade in between; and the having a heart to heart with all those years intact.

Home is all things familiar, near and yet too far away. Home is that freedom which its confines can bring. Home is a familiar touch, familiar ways, favorite colors and music playing uninhibited with doors wide open. Home is to take off and knowing where to go. Home is not being afraid, not being alone. Home is the warmest comfort there is. Home is tidying up the mess and feeling good about it because it is mine.

Home is the tightness of hugs that grow in between the periods I get them.



Home is where I always want to stay

Please, just for one more day,

And though I have done this many times,

It always hurts to leave it behind.

10 Minutes to 20

So I've spent the last few days cribbing about how I don't want to turn 20, and how TILL twenty it is like oh-you-know-there's-still-time, and how once you hit twenty it's the countdown begins to when you are a grown up.

I don't feel so different as of now. But yeah, it has been a bittersweet ride till here. Life has taught me a lot in its ways, big and small. A few minutes ago I had a surprise cake in my hair and now I am here getting all philosophical about it. So many memories, lessons and so many firsts.

So here's just saying cheers to life, cheers to leaning and cheers to living. Though I still don't feel as excited thinking that I have already lived and seen two decades (that makes me feel so OLD), but it is still a new day, with new people to meet, new places to go, new emotions to feel and a lot to learn. So 'the twenties' it is!

Also, I realize that I may be twenty, but I still think 1990 was just ten years ago. 

Almost-Midnight Musings

Tonight, I am in a mood, probably sleep deprivation and heavy headed-ness induced. Also, my A/C refuses to cool in this maddening heat (according to my phone, thirty eight degrees Celsius), so I am not going to rule out the neither hot neither cold environment around me as a catalyst to this mood of mine. 

It is just hard to even write when there are too many thoughts in your head but one refuses to take the train of thought completely.

Tonight, I am in the mood for dim yellow lights, solitude and some forgotten, soft, blues music blaring from the speakers. It is just one of those nights when I feel what I think Devdas must have felt with a bottle of alcohol, drunk out of his senses, his heart laid bare- but with probably less passion. And drunkenness. And more senses.

Okay. That comparison just lost its credibility.

There are those nights when you just want to brood to your oldest music, or probably think nothing at all. Tempted to unlock the treasure boxes you have buried deep in your memories and it comes naturally, and they are of view to you in a very unattached, disenchanted and fond manner; much like someone feeling empathy for the protagonist in an expressionist film with a lot of symbolism.

There is an urge to write down the songs that I am listening to, all of them; because right now, it feels like I can feel all the sentiments captured in those flowing, poetic lyrics inside me. They are fleeting, and none of them is too engrossing except maybe a sharp pang about something that comes to notice, like a childhood token that you find years later in some cluttered, dusty corner of your old cupboard- only, it is in the memory; or the longing for a moment where you wished that time would freeze. But this freeze-frame in my mind is all but one of the many, difference being just that it appears in a sharper focus than the rest.

My eyes burn as I write this, more because I am typing in dim light with the screen as illumination to my already tired eyes. Oh well. There is music that begins to play but I press forward to the next one soon after it starts. I wonder why. 

It is funny because I was just saying, and thinking I want to sleep but here I am. My mother would probably disapprove, but she cannot tell me so right now. So might as well go ahead and give it a conclusion, or some sense. Sometimes, I feel like randomness becomes the essence of my thoughts. The ideas of eternity have become tainted by a practicality and reality that the heart has seen and eyes now show. Childishness struggles with bitterness that threatens to creep into the crevices that have been trenched where there were once holes. 

There is one joke that I remember from my childhood, that I found ridiculously funny and would retell to anyone in any context of something funny. I see how the jokes have changed now, what black humor is and why it is funny, and I wish I could go back to the time when I did not know how black and humor could be used in one phrase. The world is turning a little more threatening every day- threatening to swallow you whole in your quest for your place in it. 

But then there are the bubbles that I like to blow, and the colors I like to see. The sky is always beautiful and the air is unstoppable. Diwali lights look so hopeful and there are still happy endings for lovers in films. The stars probably look pretty and countless to someone, somewhere in the countryside. My brother gives me the tightest hug me when he sees me. He is going to grow taller than me, I know it. 

Love makes the world go round, but love itself is not enough. Have the dynamics of the world not gotten it all wrong that way? Maybe someone WILL dig a hole through Earth and come out on the other side and tell us why. Then we will probably have the answers to everything that should be enough, but is not; everything that is deserved but is not given; and all the compassion that is right there but not showed. 

I remember a story from the Panchatantra where a silly hare scares the entire jungle saying that "the sky is falling!", when the piece of "sky" that actually awoke him from his slumber and sent him scurrying was actually an apple from a tree. That made sense, right? Well, since the skepticism of the world makes little sense right now, maybe the sky WILL fall. And then, we will know that there is more. 

On that note, I am raising my imaginary glass to much needed (at the same time, overactive) imagination and, to possibilities!

PS. My playlist ended as I finished writing the above line. Some things are falling into place after all!

The Joys of Re-Self Discovery

Recently I read an article titled "Bring Back The Magic" in a supplement of The Hindu, dated May 5th, 2013. It was beautiful and it spelled out some thing I had been wanting to do and actually. The article just streamlined for me a way to go about it.

It asks you to write a letter to yourself. To spell out the things that still matter to you, the things that still drive you and the things that still make you want to dream and work and try harder. Things about the world that make you angry and sad and things that you would want to change. Things like wanting to turn the world upside down because it tends to be a little too straight sometimes sometimes; and straighten it out a little bit because it twists the simplest of things.

Why would one write a letter to themselves? Because, with time, we tend to become skeptical versions of ourselves, giving up on things that we believe in because we have commitments and work and the survival is just a tiring lifetime of exercise. So to write things like these, is to give your future self some hope, to write these things now is saying to your future self who has seen too much reality, has become too bitter and is thinking, "what the hell happened to me?", that there's still hope. This is what you were, and this is what you are. You just have to choose to become.

And so, I want to write myself a letter. I want to write to myself about all the things that are important to me now, in case I ever forget. I want to preserve the my compassion, my love for color and my un-ladylike loud laughter in pen and paper, in my words, in my handwriting to remind myself how much I love a good pen and how I want to write and how I have a decent handwriting- in case I ever forget. I want to engrave (well, on paper if not in stone) how I love breaking my back doing little things on people's birthdays and making them smile; and how I don't need gifts and rewards but a simple appreciation or a hug suffices- in case I ever become more materialistic about those things. I want to write about how blowing bubbles still makes me happy, how much I miss home and how much I love dogs and how I respect life. How war makes me sad and politics is distasteful to me if I ever become to pompous about my opinions. I want to pen down how I want to grow old to be an open minded person who grows more approachable with age and not, high headed and cranky.

Most importantly, I want to write about how thankful I am for all the happiness and even the pain that life has given me and how much I have learnt from it. How much I love to love and how powerful the bonds of family are. I want to write about how, right now, I still have beliefs and ideals, to remind my future self if she ever falls victim to the harshness of this world and of life, and loses them the reasons she has to work for.

BUT, I have exams right now and I see it is going to be a long letter to myself so it will have to wait for about ten days or so.

But, on a concluding note, people talk about life insurance..but they completely miss the real point. So my dear future self, if you ever feel like you have lost (the purpose/ideals of your) life or that you're losing it, here is a little piece of life insurance, for you.

:)

Stay

Some time back, I was listening to a Taylor Swift song and said something along the lines of, "She can make good music but she just comes across as a grumpy, lovesick puppy. All her songs are about the same thing." Then recently, I realized something about myself- more often than not, most of the things that I write are influenced by one thing that matters to me above all else too- love. I don't mean the kind of love you share with your life partner, but all sorts of love. The love that you have for your mother, your brother, your dog, your friend, your lover; love in all its colours and shades, that comes with as much baggage as it does with beauty, love that we all crave for, the attachment that we revel in and hate, love with its intense, bright, rosy haze and with its dark, piercing, passionate pain.

With that, I came to realize one thing that is as stupid as it is amazing. We, as people and as humans, have ONE ability (among others, of course) that sets us apart; that is, the ability to over rule and overpower instinct. 'Always trust your instinct', it is said. But then sometimes, even though we know exactly how a situation is going to turn out, we choose to stay. Instinct tells you to leave, to survive, to look out for yourself. When we make a conscious decision to ignore that instinct and still see something through- THAT moment defines us. 

Having studied a powerful perspective of how we as humans are self-centred creatures and how that is the basis of the "system" that we live in, the relationships we build, the things we do- it is somehow heartening to think of the fact that we have a free agency of our own. Something above the "I, me, myself", something deep inside that speaks to our humanity, that tells us to stop and stay and for once look past ourselves. 

What unfolds after these moments are the experiences that transform our outlooks, that change our perspectives and that reinstate or shake our beliefs. "Live like everyday is your last", they say. A friend of mine told me, "That's why bucket lists become important when you are about to die." Once the peace with Inevitability is made, things become much easier and much harder. Easier, because it is not very far that you have to look for the things you have been wanting to change, the things that you have been wanting to do. Harder, because even though you give something all that you can, and with the knowledge of inevitability and the determination of still giving it all you can comes..hope.

You would think that you have done away with it. You know exactly how something will turn out and you have made peace with it. So you would expect that hope figures nowhere in the scenario, right? But nope. There are two things that will make you despair like nothing else will- hope and helplessness. You would think that the two are conflicting emotions- but since we as humans are as irrational in our actions and desires as we try to make ourselves believe we are rational in our heads- we are very much capable of feeling both at the same time. Hope creeps in, like smoke through a crack. Even a little bit is enough to taint the air.

What we see, then, is through a glass sheet that is clear as can be, through which we see exactly how it is going to end. But hope makes it seem like a kaleidoscope, where the images are vivid and open to interpretation. With these conflicts, emotions and contradictions, we as humans, choose to stay. We choose to stay for compassion, for what we believe in, for humanity. For we can be bigger than ourselves. For we the irrational hope that creeps in. For we are capable of being shaped by more than just what we want. For we are capable of accepting and going through with endings that are not happy.

We choose to stay for love.

    "It's in the eyes of the children

    As they leave for the very first time

   And it's in the heart of the soldier

   As he takes the bullet on the front line

   It's in the face of the mother

   As she takes the force of the blow

   And it's in the hands of the father

   As he works his fingers to the bone

   ...

   This is why we do it

   This is worth the pain

   This is why we fall down

   And get back up again

   This is where the heart lies

   This is from above

   Love is this, this is love"

- This=Love, The Script

Irrationality

Logic and belief,
Sense and sensitivity,
Emotions and sensibility,
Options and choices,
Hard work and failure,
Odds and Success.

To be better than you,
Or to compete with myself?

Rationality
It is the the set order of things. It is what makes sense. It is to have a plan. It is what has been tried and tested. It is cliched and it's genius. It's the obvious thing to do. It has a reason to all questions questioning it. It is a calculated calculation. It is defined and definite.

Irrationality
It is unpredictability. It is what upsets the known pattern of things. It is the stupid thing to do. It doesn't have the answer to the question of "Why?" It is the unknown, the unsettling, the unsafe.

It is what boggles the mind. It is what forces you to think. It is what moves you to push against everything, no matter what the odds.

It is your gut feeling. It is "just knowing". It is making that split second decision. It is taking a chance when you know you haven't got any.

It is taking that dirt road and befriending a stranger. It is doing things on whim. It is going that extra mile. It is doubt and uncertainty.

It is to be in the moment. It is to go with the flow. It is to be careless. It is to be carefree. It is to let go.

It is waiting when you know that there's nothing to wait for. It is staying when you know there isn't a point. It is taking the fall even when there is no one holding a safety net.

It is the miracle where there wasn't any hope. It is believing a sweet lie when you know it isn't the truth. It is loving without limit and reason. It is hurting without complaint.

It is giving in to depths whose bottom you cannot see. It is feeling things that leave you numb, bursting, and breathless. It is to let yourself break, to be made again.

It is to be vulnerable. It is to be afraid.

Irrationality... It is to trust. It is to have faith. It is to believe. It is to venture into the unknown. It is not knowing. It is to do things that could go horribly wrong and turn out just right. It is to understand in silence and to communicate with eyes. It is to love and to forgive. It is opening yourself to feelings that can tear you apart. It is that feeling of "not feeling right". It is that feeling of "something's wrong".
It is to wait for the right moment and it is to be instinctive. It is to push yourself, and discover extremes you didn't know you had. It is that emotion that words can't explain and it is to give in to the passion that will leave you gasping!
It is everything unreasonable, everything beautiful, everything illogical, everything brave, everything that is a mistake and everything that is miraculous.

Irrationality.
It is everything natural. It is everything human.

OK, yes it's a mistake. I know it's a mistake, but there are certain things in life where you know it's a mistake but you don't really know it's a mistake because the only way to really know it's a mistake is to make the mistake and look back and say 'yep, that was a mistake.' So really, the bigger mistake would be to not make the mistake, because then you'd go your whole life not knowing if something is a mistake or not. And dammit, I've made no mistakes! I've done all of this; my life, my relationship, my career, mistake-free. Does any of this make sense to you?"

- Lily Erikson

How I Met Your Mother

Upside down

Life.
"Life is never fair"
"Life is a bitch"
"My life sucks"
"I hate my life"
"If only life was a little less complicated"
The above- at least one of which you'll hear at least once a day from someone you know or will read on a social networking site or will just overhear someone saying it.

In a world of all types of relationships (friend-turned-enemies-but-still-care, enemies-turned-friends-but-still-hold-grudges, lovers-turned-strangers-but-still-know-each-other, strangers-turned-enemies/friends/strangers..you get the gist) and expectations, where one has to get through the web of multitudes of these, every single day and make it alive through the complexity laden strands without breaking any (or even your own neck) is tiresome. Hence the life-cursing exclamations.

And though I am a person who will usually roll my eyes at them (due to my belief in life being nothing but perspective and perspective being nothing but a way of life), I'll admit it- right now? Life pretty much sucks. Separation issues, too-many-things-happening-at-once issues, rigidity-to-adapt-to-change issues, thinking-too-much issues, feeling-useless-and-flawed-and-guilty issues..that's all I can remember right now. Oh and, assignment(s) deadline issues. Laziness issues.

Right about now, the right way up seems to be evading me. Not being a person who will subject herself to all this on purpose cause ohmygod-I-have-so-many-problems and I'm-so-brave, I seriously do not understand as to WHY things are not setting themselves even close to right. Remotely. I do not like being brave and strong. It is the worst place to be in. When you're frustrated and confused and hurting, you're telling yourself, "No!! You will not do that! You will not give in to your weakness! You will sit here, composed, like a good girl. You have got to be strong, get it?" I feel like I'm addressing an extremely dimwitted version of me. Clearly, upside down is where I am.

Sorry about the digression. Anyway, so everything I do, seems to be fueling the wrong of what it should be making right! Instead of making me more detached and used to the current situation, it makes me realize the absence, even more. Or presence. Or whatever! Depending on the situation, that is. It makes no sense! Also, I've realized that there are serious problems where providing the right comfort to the life-cursers is concerned. Hence, here are some things that everyone says (to make you feel better), but which are absolutely useless.

"You know what's gone is gone and nothing can be done about it. *sympathetic stare*"
"It has made you learn something and that's what matters! *thump on the back*"
"Maybe there is something better in store! *big smile*"
How many times have we all heard that when something goes wrong? Well, let me tell you;  next time someone says any of that to you... SLAP THEM RIGHT ACROSS THE FACE (doing that might make you feel better temporarily too). Because I have never seen this way of comforting help!! This is something you REALIZE with time and read in books. When someone is seeking some comfort from you, saying these things to them is just like talking to a blank wall!! It does not make them feel better! So, for heaven's sake, do not superglue these super-cliched lines. Say nothing at all, if you don't know what to say. Just DON'T say THAT.

And, if they're telling you they don't want to talk about it, MAKE THEM TALK. It's usually the girl code, but it applies to everyone who goes up to their best friend all distraught and says "It's nothing, I don't wanna talk about it". They just want you to decipher them because they are tired of trying to understand themselves. And you're smart enough to tell if they're serious about not wanting to spill the beans, too. Adapt, understand and comfort accordingly. And please be realistic. Suppose your friend just broke up and you're telling them, "Hey whatever! Look at you! You can get any guy/girl you want!". There's nothing more childish than that. Seriously. Breaking news! They want the guy/girl they just broke up with. And they are not WANTING anyone else right about now. A variation like "Look at you! He/She doesn't know what he/she has lost!" would still be better. Seriously.

Another thing, do not try to classify everything. Questions like "How can you still feel like that?" "How is that even possible?" "You are not sure about it then how can anyone be?" DO NOT HELP. They need to know it's okay to not know everything! It's okay to be confused at that point of time. Now, it's one thing to help figure things out and it's completely another to ask rhetoric questions! Because instead of helping clean up the mess, it just makes them realize just how messed up they are. What they need to know is, it's okay to be messed up sometimes.

So..yeah. Just some thing you should keep in mind when someone comes to you wanting to mope for a while. There are variations and exceptions to all of the above, but you gotta rely on your own presence of mind to figure that. See, there are tonnes of self help books out there to move on in life or adapt to something or even get over something like death and depression! But there is no prescribed remedy for everyone. Everyone is different..in context of the relationships they have with people, how they think, how they perceive life, how they deal with hurt, how they deal with happiness; the works. And hence, there's a different way to each person.

So, the next time someone who is being evaded by the right way up comes to you, don't stick to what you've told someone else in a similar situation. Simply because it's a different person here. Respect that, and make sure you let it show. 'Cause even if you just let them know that it's okay for life to be upside down even when they're doing everything right sometimes, it'll bring them one small step closer to the right way up.

Thinking Back and Forth

So. It's been a while. Three years or so? Yeah. It's funny I still remember this blog. So I've decided to come back to writing. 'Cause this head needs some dumping and cleaning. 

Life's changed a lot. Looking at the previous posts, I come out to be a sadly emo person. I dunno about that. But life happens. And I'm three years older now. Not to mention, legally an adult. 

Speaking of which, what's the big deal about being eighteen? Sure you can vote and drive and you're an ADULT. Agreed that sounds big and important and grown-up but, what exactly is the whole fuss about? 

You get out of the cage, only to realize a little while later that it was HOME. You meet new people, you're out in the world, and then you realize that you're on your own. You have lesser restrictions and more freedom but then you miss the fussing sometimes. Yeah. I'm talking about moving out and into college. 

College is just starting to become fun. The initial half was so uneventful, it felt mechanical. I thought, hell, is THIS what they go gaga about?” Oh my god, COLLEGE!”? Sorely disappointing. 

But now that I can actually feel and accept the difference between school and college, and the smaller city and the larger one, my past life and the present one.. yeah! I am actually starting to warm up to it. I know more people than I did in the beginning, but I'm closer to even fewer, which actually feels nice. A bunch of crazy, dramatic humans I call friends. And yeah, it's now that I can REALLY mean it when I say we're friends.

In the last six months, there is so much that I have learnt. And about myself, no less. A few observations.

• That i'm really rigid towards change- which isn't convenient, because it's the only constant thing in life.
• That I tend to get too attached without realizing it, be it places, people or just THINGS that have meant something- which means I am bad at letting things go, even though I may have accepted them.
• That I'm clingy.
• That stuff that would usually have hit someone right in the head, hits me slowly and hits me later. Impacting no less though. Which has.. both pros and cons.
• That I miss home. Like a lot. And contrary to most people, I felt homesick after a while (read, a few months) of living here and not immediately. And I still do.
• That I'm not actually as open minded as I thought- and I have some very strong opinions about certain things. Which before college, I thought I didn't. 
• That it's fun (and important) to hang out with friends. :D Not that I didn't before.. but there's just something that's different. And it always turns out to be fun- even if you have ten jobs to do or you are absolutely jobless.
• That you can ALWAYS get better at being a friend, no matter how good you are.
• That you HAVE to let go of things when they are just not meant to stay. No matter how much you believed that they always will. That includes people. It's a very difficult acceptance, but just as important.
• That fear can give you wings, but it can also make you blind. And it’s not very pleasant when you realize you’ve been a fool who thought she was blind just until she opened her eyes.
• That you often take YOURSELF for granted, which is basically not very smart, given that you change with every new thing life shows you.

That I have actually grown in ways small and big.

And that I just made a LIST. a BULLETED one no less. About my thinkies. Yeah that's the stuff I come up with. Sigh.

So. Yeah. That's about it for now. My head feels lighter already.

And I shall try to be regular this time in my posts. No, REALLY. I will.