Us Against the World.

It is said that best friends are exactly alike. Birds of a feather. Two minds thinking as one. Funnily enough, my best friend and I are strikingly opposite in myriad ways. While she has a big smile wrapped on her face forever, I could be grumpy often. While she is up for all the fun things, I am found to be rather unwavering about the kind of fun I want to have. Despite the several differences, we both have our share of common space where our thoughts meet the way Sun meets the horizon. We are happy with just that. We are extremely happy with sharing silence on our drives back home or indulge ourselves in weird banter at highly loud places. She does not mind when I fall asleep early during our sleepovers. Always. I do it always - as if it's a ritual. And I don't get annoyed (Or maybe I do) when she arrives late every time we make plans. Nevertheless, she does it. We aren't the sort who break our rituals and habits. They die hard.

The previous week was particularly eventful. My best friend got married and obviously, it was one of the most emotional moments for me. To look at her stunning face and the joy written all over it. To see her so happy, giggling like a schoolgirl, resembling the girl I met eight years ago. We have been friends for a long time now and as I look back, I am surprised at the amount of things we have done together or the number of places we have been to. We have explored our way through college and the first rush of internships, we have ventured into our first jobs together and invested in many mindless things aimlessly. We spent too much, we felt too much, we cared too much and broke ourselves too much. But we always found each other in the worst situations too. I told you, it's a colossal amount.

Being friends with someone for eight years comes with a lot of pros and cons - your best friend slowly turns into your family, and when that truly happens, you turn fiercely protective of them. Often imagining that their wedding would result in a dramatic separation from you. Fun fact: It's not true. Sure, you might weep some nights wondering if your best friend is going to fly away from you and you eat tubs of ice-cream hoping you'd soon get used to doing things alone, but they'll only remind you that be it something as silly as eating cookies and cream ice-cream or ranting about the love of your life, you'll find them right beside you. Inevitably.

And finally, my best friend, you know who you are. Because you are the only one. Thank you for being such a lovely friend, and as you walk this new path with your certain someone, I cannot be happier for you. We have seen so much together and there is a long way to go. I love you and you matter so much to me, but more importantly, I want you to know that you complete me.

Congratulations!

Title of the post inspired from Coldplay's Us Against the World

What Is Your Story?

Some stories are fascinating. Some stories are compelling. Some stories are heartbreaking while some are comical. Some stories are engaging while some are aloof. Some stories are stirring. Some are beautiful, and some are enlightening. Stories come in a lot of forms, they are conveyed through various mediums. They are sung, written, made into movies, but every story is powerful.

My obsession with stories and their charm began at a really tender age. I remember relishing stories right from the time I've heard the first story. During one Summer vacation, my grandmother narrated Ramayana to me, in parts every night before I went to sleep. There was no looking back after that. I would ask, plead, force my grandparents, parents, uncles, and aunts, and everyone I knew to tell me stories -- to tell me all that they heard and read. And then, I took to reading. I discovered a new world through the words of various writers. I loved Binya's world that Ruskin Bond created or how simply stupid Ramu and Shamu were!

It was an entirely new world and I wanted to devour everything I came across. But I've also harboured a nasty habit of envying characters and some stories. Often I would imagine myself as a character from my favourite stories. I desperately wanted to know how Pip felt when he left everything behind and moved to London. My love for Great Expectations is eternal yet I envied Pip, you know because he had the opportunity to live in a city that did not belong to him. I wanted to be there, witness it, just watch how he transformed from a young boy into a man who knew his priorities and values. When I was a child, I also wanted to be 'The Little Prince' and ridiculously wrote that in school essays that asked me to write about my future plans. Sure, I was too young then but it did not stop after I grew up too. When I read 'Pride and Prejudice', I wanted to know how it would be to be Elizabeth Bennet, to be loved so dearly by Darcy, or how amazing it would be if I were Watson, accompanying Sherlock Holmes in all his adventures and misadventures. What a delight would that be!

I did not stop with just that. I wanted to listen to the stories that people would tell. When my friends would tell me about something, I always wanted to know more. I would yell at them "Start from the beginning..no, no, do not cut down those details," or I would ask them if there was more to the story and if they were hiding something. I would gently nudge them to let me into their world. Into their stories. Sometimes, I would envy the stories or the lives that people around me would live, have lived. I find myself rushing to do a lot of things at a time, greedy for doing more and living more only to realize that I am already living one. That when I wake up in the morning to go do a job that I love, it is a story. Or when I meet a friend after ages and talk like we talked yesterday, it still is a story. Everyone around us is entitled to them. We are all diverse individuals, bubbling with stories full of hope, love, joy. Stories where you have a tingling feeling after you kiss a boy in a certain emergency exit, or when you sit under the moonlight when your friend talks about poetry. Remember the kind of stories we all lived when we would spend a night with our friends or siblings after an examination or the one where we walk on the streets of our hometown with our cousins while eating an ice-cream. I mean, there you go! There are so many of them.

Maybe I did realize it a little late, but the best stories are often not told, read, or written. They are experienced.

Of Writing Letters and Pen Friends.

I was eight when I made a first pen friend. I distinctly remember writing letters and posting them in a red-coloured post box that was a little far from home. I made two more pen friends over a period of time and wrote different letters to the three of them. I loved receiving letters with doodles and smileys on the corner of the letters. Sometimes, they came with shimmering stickers, and they were more loved. One summer vacation, I visited my grandparents. That year was warmer than usual, and the flowers in our garden were blooming better than ever. I began writing letters to my friends -- I wrote to them about how I relished the mangoes and sorbets that my grandmother fed me, and I wrote to them complaining how my brothers never let me play cricket along with them, forcing me to be a silent spectator every time they played. I narrated in detail how much I loved taking early morning walks along the stream and glide past the high walls embraced with colourful bougainvillaea trees. I remember very well, that I suggested them to read Enid Blyton's books which happened to be my latest found love then. I guess I still remember the contents of the letter only because they were the last letters I sent to them. As soon as I returned home after the vacation, my father was transferred to a different city. In the process of worrying about a new school, new uniform, and new classmates, it absolutely slipped out of my mind that I had to inform my friends that I was moving to a different city. What's worse? I lost their addresses too! For a person who moved often, and changed seven schools, losing things wasn't new. But this time, I was rather displeased with my carelessness. Because there was something comforting about writing letters to people whose names and faces were unknown. We had pen names, remember? There was something ethereal about friendships that withstood miles of distance. And there was something funny about describing how your dog would attack the cats and receive a response that talked about such simple things. That is the magic of handwritten letters, I believe. When I was in school, I knew a lot of people who had pen-friends. I read a lot of such stories too, in a magazine called Gokulam, which was pretty popular after Tinkle. I barely see anyone writing letters now. I am afraid, I see no one. The fact that people have forgotten the art of writing beautiful letters makes me cringe. Why did we stop writing letters? Why did we stop describing the beauty of nature in letters to friends who aren't familiar with the weather in our part of the country? We cannot blame WhatsApp and Twitter for this. They still do not warrant the excuse that we stopped writing letters. I could be really selfish when I am hoping one could preserve the lost heritage of writing letters; wondering if we could ever bring back long, handwritten letters into fashion. The joy we derive from reading letters that we've received as children is quite something. I think even when we get old and have a troubling eyesight, there will be nothing more comforting than words and letters that talk so much about our history and the life we lived. 

P.S. This year, I have written three letters and received two.

A Letter To My 30-Year-Old Self.

Hello senior,

Your worst fear has come true.

You have turned 30. Oh no, no, no!

But on the brighter side, you are still young because you will turn 40 in 10 years and that would freak you out so much that I cannot even fathom to put it in words.

You will find this letter on your blog, in your journal, in your archives, drafts, and everywhere–do not fret, I will make sure you find it even if you decide to abandon the internet. (Highly unlikely!)

OKAY, so I am sure you got yourself a gorgeous dress, and a pair of Louboutins for your birthday, and I am totally sure a bunch of friends are coming over tonight. Well, let us hope you cook great food for them and spend a night under the starlit sky with Eddie Vedder's music playing in the background. 

You must be utterly pleased with your life at this moment. I would not say you are experiencing euphoria, but you are almost there. You must have definitely learned the trade of living an eternally peaceful life by choosing the right people over the wrong ones. Age is just a number, but wisdom is eternal. (I am talking like a saint now. Sweet!)

I am glad that you have a library in your home and you tend to use it as your workplace quite often. Hang in there, I envy you already. I totally understand, you have been writing better things and meeting some sensational people. Do not let success get to your head. There will always be someone smarter and prettier than you. Stay grounded.

You have turned into an even grumpier person with mood swings worse than ever and you are considering to join a rehabilitation center. JUST DO NOT.

Get a tub of ice-cream like your younger self. Geez, you were so much fun at 23!

You still watch romantic comedies and gush over them like a quintessential teenager. I am glad you haven’t lost the spark of a child in yourself.

In pursuit of reaching all your milestones, I hope you haven’t stopped appreciating the beauty of love and life. Let the mad rush be! You have always been a firm believer of the fact that wonderful things come in tiny packages. Take a break and look around yourself--beauty lies right there.

So, what have you gotten yourself from Paris?

Wait, what? You haven’t been to Paris yet? What about that perfect plan that your younger self has sketched out eons ago? It failed?

Well, you do not deserve a birthday right now. Go into your room, sit in a corner, eat oreos or whatever, and just weep. Idiot!

***
You have dived deeper into your career but you still manage to take time out for your family and friends. Pat yourself, you are on the right track. No matter in which part of the world you are, you act like a responsible woman. Unconventional, headstrong, and kind.

You must be having a pet-an adorable golden retriever. What’s not to love? You go home to it everyday.

Did you get that walk in closet that you designed? Oh, you did? How wonderful! You wanted it so badly, remember? Wow! And now, you own a beautiful home too. No, not house. A home.

You have invested your finances the right away. Oh wait, you have been doing that ever since you were 22, didn't you?

Oh shut up, I am not referring to your investment in shoes, I am talking about actual investments. You know, the gold and silver, or real estate, or just whatever is in trend then. I am clueless about these things.

Anyway.

I hope you have some credible amount of published work tagged with your name now. Without any labels and connotations, of course! 

You are where you intended to be. Touchwood!

I do not mean to mock you, but considering your track record, I cannot really figure out if you found the love of your life. If you have, hold on to it, be an equal in the relationship. You have found that one person you would want to call during melancholy and merriment. You deserve all of it, and more.

If you haven’t found the one, it is alright. You shall sail through this phase too. Gracefully! (With some wine, hopefully.)

In the process of getting older, you have gotten your heart broken several times, and you've had friends standing by your side like a solid rock. What would you do without them? You might be their fairy angel, but they are your sun and the moon. In bits and pieces.

You have found your soulmate in the form of love and friendship. Memories, photographs, and social media stand as a testament to all of it. Above everything, your very existence stands as a testament to it.

You have failed and stumbled upon hurdles, but you have emerged stronger with pain and failure. You were born to see the butterflies and stars, and not to settle down for anything that does not challenge you.

You have learned to gather yourself in distress; you have learned to unwind yourself from a busy schedule often and above everything, you have learned to embrace your flaws and vulnerabilities.

Count your blessings, you are the sunshine of your life.

As you finish reading this letter, you will find your lips twitch into a smile. This world is a beautiful place, you muse to yourself.

Happy Birthday!

Love,

23-year-old dorky self