The Park Bench.

There is a blue bench in a park nearby,

it is old, slightly broken, and I wonder

how many grueling seasons it withstood,

and still is,

it makes funny faces at me,

no, it’s not a figment of my imagination,

it’s real,

as real as you and me,

its ends are chipped,

kids leave paint blotches on it,

and it’s really beaten out of shape,

despite all the mess it is,

plants grow on each of its legs,

flowers of colours yellow and purple bloom

over it,

it’s real,

as real as you and me,

but do you think we can bloom amidst

all the muddle we’ve created?

do you think we can withstand the tough seasons as well?

Tune for the day: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6yjJ-2L15rg

Holding On.

We’re all holding on to something — something that’s not good for us, something that doesn’t belong to us. To an old memory, people, places, houses we’ve stopped calling homes, homes we’ve left behind, stories that we’re no longer a part of, cities we’ve once lived in, hearts that don’t want to shelter us, cafes that make us feel like a stranger, old loves, broken shards of wine glasses, strangers, and shirts that smell of a person you don’t talk to.

We’re all holding on to something that keeps us awake in the nights, something that reminds us that no matter what, life rises and falls and spirals out of our control. It’s funny how we think we’re holding on to something when all we’re doing is simply breathe.

Tune for the day: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tvHz5Rti0cU

Letter to My 18-Year-Old Self.

Dear 18-year-old self,

As the clock strikes 12, you'll find your phone buzzing with texts wishing you a happy birthday. Most of them are strangers, but they'll turn into a family you cannot cut ties with even if they are continents apart. You have an exam tomorrow and it's the first of the many you'll give, this semester. You must have turned 18 now and you must be thrilled, but listen, you're still not an adult. Take it from your 26-year-old self, you'll always be a child to your family. Your grandfather still frets if you don't return home by 7 PM.

Let me tell you a good story now. Right now, you're pretty psyched about future. You must be planning on giving your CAT in three years and settle for whatever pay you the most. You are hoping you'll graduate with a great job offer on hand. Somewhere between working as an intern at several places and hanging out with your friends discussing your dreams, something will snap inside of you. You'll sense a weariness, a strange restlessness settling at the pit of your stomach. You'll never understand where it began and why it has, and the worst part? You'll not even know if it will ever end. You'll grow to call this anxiety your own and you'll give it its own space in your home.

You are so shy it makes me wonder that I was you. So, yeah, heads up: You'll change. God, you'll change so much that you'll probably not recognize yourself if you wake up at 25 now. You will experience colossal losses, which unfortunately will push you in becoming an adult overnight. Don't freak out. You can handle it.

You'll learn to travel, you'll learn to make the best of your finances. Even if it means you overdo shopping. You'll learn to live without regrets, and you'll learn to let go of people and things that aren't meant for you. Maybe grudgingly so, but you will. You'll learn to step out of your comfort zone, and you'll be surprised at the number of times and how constantly you'll do it. Girl, it'll be chaotic, but it'll be worth it. You'll tell stories and write many. More importantly, you'll live them.

Let me tell you the bad things now. Your selfishness might still remain as intact. You'll find pathetic reasons to hurt the ones who love you and you'll also be hurt by people you care deeply for. Learn not to put people on a pedestal. Accept the fact that they're not perfect even if your love for them makes you don rose-tinted glasses when looking at them. They're flawed and broken and in their battle against themselves, you'll end up being a collateral damage. Be kind to them, but never at the cost of losing yourself. Maybe you won't find what you're searching for and your thoughts will definitely be sullied by that very thing. But hey, it's going to be okay. Everything you lose and fail at will only prepare you for the beautiful mess you'll learn to embrace in the years to come.

You will rise and fall, maybe falling more often than rising, and that's okay. Your life won't be a cakewalk, but let me tell you, it will never be boring. There will be something new each day and you'll not have it any other way. You'll breathe, live, and do everything you'll dream of. Don't let anything bog you down because that's not what you are made for.

Learn, please learn to tell better stories and be a good story for others to tell.

Tune for the day: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VlBIeZi3Ko4

INCOHERENT.

I blink as a blank sheet of paper looks at me, impassively. I look straight back at it as if it would help me conjure some words. Any words. Just any string of words that form meaningful sentences. In fact, I am fine with sentences that bear no meaning too. How can I expect a meaning from nothingness?

Coffee, may be a cup of coffee will push me, invoke my senses, and help me put some words on paper. But hello, how can I do absolutely anything when my mind is soaking in a deluge of thoughts? Thoughts that are strong. Thoughts that are mundane. Thoughts that are half-baked. Thoughts that ache. Thoughts that put me to an ease. And thoughts that don't. If all nooks and corners of mind are occupied with bits and pieces of everything, how can I find a room for eloquence? But I try because that's what I do.

I'm starting to think that a lot of beginnings are paved with endings. And that sunsets signify a life wasted over beauty and charm. What's worth living if you don't witness a sunrise in the hills, over beaches, and in cities that break you down? I'm starting to wonder if you can call your best kiss the first kiss? And if you can leave little notes of goodness each time you leave a coffee shop? I'm trying to figure out if there's more to life than love and loss, and how success is a parameter of achievement! I'm beginning to imagine if there's life somewhere else. And what if nights weren't really made for sleeping? What would we do then? Bare our souls out?

I'm wondering if my curiosity will do me more harm than good like it killed the cat. And how will I know that if I'm not curious? Fudge!

Tune for the day: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cs1e0fRyI18

How Long Will You?

Photo by Léonard Cotte on Unsplash

How long will you deny yourself the smallest of pleasures? How long will you let demons play with your mind? How long will you pick everything above your heart's desires? How long will you wait to take a leap of faith? How long will you lie to yourself? How long will you allow your brain dictate rules? How long will you not listen to your heart? How long will you let your insecurities take over you? How long will you make someone wait for you? How long will you walk on the sideways not living your dreams? How long will you hold on to self-made fallacies? How long will you wait before you own your story? Will you ever? How long will you stop yourself from falling in love? How long will you not let someone love you for who you are?

Look at your reflection in the mirror and ask yourself. Maybe even tell me, how long will you?

Tune for the day: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jHNNMj5bNQw

SOMEONE.

Photo by Aline JOLIT on Unsplash

At this moment, right now, right somewhere, around the world, in your surroundings, or way out of your sight,

someone is furiously clearing their chat history,

someone is taking their dog out for a walk,

someone is in their kitchen, brewing coffee for their family,

someone is falling in love,

someone is healing their broken heart,

someone is listening to music and identifying their life with lyrics,

someone is at work doing a job they hate,

someone is at work getting better at what they love,

someone is looking into the sunset with their loved one,

someone is waiting for the nightfall,

someone is hoping the breaking dawn brings a new hope,

someone must be making someone dance to their tunes,

and someone must be reading in the comfort of their home,

someone is on Netflix, watching House of Cards,

someone is carefully deciding the menu for dinner,

someone is waiting for a special one in a restaurant,

while someone is getting their heart broken in a parking lot,

someone is holding their tears,

and someone isn't,

someone is trying to seek help, connect with human beings again and not feel alone,

while someone is caving into their den,

someone is ticking things off their bucket list,

someone is saving up for their dream,

and someone is going home with treats for their children,

someone is trying to pick their paint brush after an accident,

someone is getting drunk in a downtown pub,

while someone is standing outside an uptown boutique, imagining themselves in the clothes on display,

someone is waiting for their flight to arrive to go home,

while someone finds home everywhere they go,

someone..in fact, everyone is probably dreaming, trying, healing, breaking free,

and more importantly living,

yeah..definitely living.

Tune for the day: http://bit.ly/2t3bAlb

Loving Yourself.

You wake up in the morning. You stand in front of the mirror looking at your reflection. Your smooth skin reminds you of the scars you've left on someone else's and the creases on your forehead nudge you about the things you shouldn't have done. How do you love yourself when all you see are your flaws?

I've always assumed that loving someone irrevocably and beyond any reason and logic is hard, but it isn't. Loving yourself is hard. Loving yourself enough to pick your own broken pieces and stitch them together is hard. Loving yourself is hard when you don't know where to begin with and which part of you needs more love than the others. Maybe you'll not be this damned if you knew, but who are you kidding, you were never the one to know. Loving yourself is hard especially when others find you perfect but all you discover are more and more of your mistakes which slowly engulf you, define you, and then drown you. Loving yourself is probably hard when your mouth reminds you of the ugly words you've uttered or the ones that you can never take back. Loving yourself is dauntingly hard, I know. But you have to wake up each morning and choose yourself above everyone and everything. Because it's like fighting a battle with a cause. It's hard but it's for your own good. Loving yourself is a lot like a girl whose smile refuses to reach her eyes and yet she tries. It's a lot like loving a certain boy in your own little screwed up manner. He makes you feel like an imbecile but in his presence, all the pieces of your jigsaw puzzle come to life. Loving yourself is so much like a longing that you yearn for years but never truly fulfill. But you should. Your thoughts, your flaws, the ugly and the beautiful parts of your mind and your body, your broken heart, your incomplete stories - you'll grow to love each and every inch of you. It'll be hard but it'll be worth it.

But as on today, you should start loving yourself. A little more than ever.

Tune for the day: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dKlgCk3IGBg

Growing Up.

A week before my birthday, I used to hand out individual letters to my parents. On 4-lined papers torn from my notebook, I used to write a list of things I wanted for the birthday. Yes, I was totally that kid who loved her birthday. Throughout the week, I used to carefully go through the details of the party, the invitations, and the cake. I fussed about everything. In fact, somewhere between fussing over my birthday to hoping I wouldn't grow up in a jiffy, I grew into a young girl with an ambition of creating something truly exquisite with her life. And now, as I metamorphose into a woman who has reached a certain age in life where her decisions and thoughts will certainly be questioned, I wonder about so many things. So much is running in my mind right now that I'll need tons of perspective to sort everything out.

I was talking to my friend the other day about a little trip I took, and he commented that he's proud of me because I rarely step out of my comfort zone. Well, I guess he's right because it troubles me a great deal when new plans ambush me, or when things happen out of my control. But then, they happen all the time. I'm learning to deal with them. I'm learning to make spaces for my mistakes, desires, flaws, and changing ideologies. However, I must admit, I'm still not there yet.

When you turn 26, you are expected to behave in a certain fashion. I mean, I'm just 4 years away from 30 (the very thought scares me), and I'm supposed to be more responsible, sensible, and maybe even put together. But here am I, grappling with insecurities and darkness. At the core, I confess I'm still selfish and play to please my ego. You'll never find me questioning my choices or decisions. Unfortunately, even the wrong ones. I'm beginning to think if they'll start defining me. You see this whole point of growing up is starting to take a toss on me. And so are these incoherent thoughts!

Some days, I find it truly hard to get out of my bed. On days like that, I truly wish my mother would come knocking at my door with a cup of coffee. I often find myself unsure about myriad things and people in my life. Despite everything, I wake up in the morning thankful for their presence. And then there are nights when absolutely everything seems bleak. Even the brightest possibilities. And yet I find someone I can call and cry to. Someone who just sits still on the other end of the call, listening to my sobs and never uttering a single word. I am certain about quite a few things in life and they are probably these. Now, I even know that growing up is a lot like getting into a battle with your mind. Growing up is a lot like choosing between your heart's desires and mind's sensibilities. It's a lot like picking your fights wisely. Growing up is no fun, especially when you have to make these choices every waking moment in your life and woefully live with them. Nonetheless, we all do, since we have no way around cutting this growing up thing.

So this year, as I realize that my mother won't be cooking me my favourite fried rice and aloor dum, I am hoping I can give myself a list of things I should be doing. I am hoping I could fuss about them. Because somewhere inside me is still that little child who made sure everything on her list emerged into a reality.

Tune for the day: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l4WKh5UqtXc

We’re a Generation of Self-Absorbed Individuals.

We are a generation of self-absorbed individuals,

Every morning, we soak in narcissism as we soak in Vitamin D,

Standing in front of the mirror, we admire our facial features, and maybe slyly ignore the ones that aren't so good after all,

We strive, we strive really hard to live the lives we carefully paint on our social media profiles,

But it's hard and often daunting,

Because the perfection we achieve on social media isn't a cakewalk in real life.

As a generation of self-absorbed individuals,

We live on gratification and seek validation,

Even when we claim we don't, we do,

We just don't say it, because we're too vain to admit

that our egos are bigger than our hearts and souls,

Our mess isn't ours alone, our heartbreaks aren't ours to embrace,

We break and heal with others,

We love and learn with people on the internet,

Our secrets are broadcasted in the daylight and we turn our lives into a mockery overnight.

We're a generation of self-conceited individuals,

Too broken to admit we're broken,

Too full of ourselves to see beyond our flesh and bones,

We watch as our lives fade and emerge between the newsfeeds and timelines,

Unfolding gently between the pretentious mornings and melancholic nights, we build constellations of our own,

We write stories for no one to read,

We laugh, half in love and cry over lost loves,

But in the end, we survive,

We breathe,

And we just live.

A Gleeful Farewell to 2016.

With the impending end of 2016, I'm so full of questions and thoughts. Sometimes, they are interfering with my inner peace, the other times, they are only providing a decent amount of fodder for squandering my time.

When I was writing a year-ender post last year, I had so much to tell that I literally cut down many paragraphs but this year, right from the time December arrived, I was fretting about what I have to write. Not because I have to write (which I have to), but also because these posts serve as reminders to all that I was in that particular year. Looking at the way 2016 panned out, it should obviously be the year that set its standards high for beating even the worst. But as a lot of people say...this is how life works. So, between being tangled and untangled, 2016 is a year where life happened to me. It was cruel. It made me vulnerable, but it also made me realize that a human being can be truly surprised what he can live with.

Every time I hit a rock bottom and overcome it, the survivor in me assumes that she is equipped for the worst. Another disaster, another victory, another bravado. But with every disaster, I fall flat and weep into the wee hours of the nights and try to hide my distressed eyes with copious amounts of eyeliner and mascara, the next morning. No matter how much and how well prepared I am for every disaster, I have my own share of fears and insecurities. However, like everyone, I also have an inner voice and in my case, it is a small girl who reminds me of the survivor that I am and urges me to show up. At any cost. And I do. And then, things get better. And then...life happens again.

I remember this time in high school when I wanted to walk into a room and own it; to make conversations with absolute strangers. I wanted to be heard, understood, and more importantly, known. Despite having such strong wishes, I was meek and often too shy to even respond to the questions I was asked. As I grew old, it changed in bits and pieces, but in time, I developed an unhealthy relationship with my own self. To tame my thoughts and incoherency while building a deep connection with myself, I decided to start a blog one night around 5 years ago. I think this worked out well for me. It made me discover my voice, inner strengths and offered me a humble platform to speak. Sure, I still do not walk into a room and own it, but hey, I am getting there. As we speak, I am in the process of checking it off my list too.

This brings me to another vital factor - reading.

I always thought I'd measure my years with the amazing books that I read, but 2016 made me go nuts for one book very particularly - Daytripper by Fábio Moon and Gabriel Bá. Despite reading 75 books this year, discovering new writers and rediscovering many old favourites, I think Daytripper is something that left its mark on me. I'm totally holding on to this like I held on to The Great Expectations.

Talking about someone in past tense is annoyingly excruciating. Even more so, if it is your mother. After losing my mother in August, I've lost my wits and a sense of security. A lot of people say that I've changed a great deal, while the others comment that I have stopped sounding like myself. I was a carefree spirit in my mother's presence, but something has definitely changed inside of me after her death. I don't know what it is, and I will not try hard to put it into words, but a part of me is entirely convinced that at any point of time, anything can happen, and we're not in control of it. It is such an unfortunate truth, isn't it? We mask it by saying it's the beauty of life. But to me, there is nothing beautiful about loss. It changes and molds you in so many patterns that you probably don't recognize yourself when you look into the mirror one day. Harsh truth - it shouldn't change you for bad. The sense of security can be lost and regained, but if you lose the core essence of yourself, it's hard to gain control over it. First-hand experience, please do take it from me!

A lot of things that happened this year made me form stronger bonds with my family. I'm so grateful for that! I make it a point to take time for them now. Earlier, my friends and family always complained that I don't return calls or stay in touch, but I have taken a new leap in that too. I'm guessing they now complain that I am always texting or calling.

Sometimes, even a little amount of unwavering faith takes you a long way. I probably didn't realize that when I started seeing this boy almost a year ago, but in time, it makes me wonder about love. I've written and talked so often about it (Thanks to my unhealthy obsession with romantic comedies and dramas) and as it turns out so much of it is false because love neither comes in fancy packaging nor with tons of confetti. It probably comes in a pretty average but sturdy packaging. Or in the form of a boy who picks your battles like they're his own. I certainly don't have a knight in the shining armour and I don't ask for one. Because what I have is a living, breathing person who shields me like an armour. Sometimes, that's all I ask for. And an unwavering faith!

As I come to an end of this post and 2016, I totally know that I contradicted what I've said in the beginning - that I had nothing to talk or write about. But when I actually sat down to write, there was no stopping. So yes, here's to a slightly depressing but a great deal of learning that 2016 endowed on me. I'm not asking for a fabulous 2017, but I surely won't mind one that comes with pleasant surprises and goodness my way.

To everyone who made this year amazing and got me cupcakes, thank you. To everyone who did not, you all can have a happy New Year too!

P.S. Thank you for reading this unavoidably long post.

Sixteen.

Sixteen and naive,

You're oblivious to the possibilities of life,

Tying your fate to the boy in the next class, you dream of a future under pine trees and starlit skies.

Sixteen and unbroken,

You're yet to experience the pleasure of pain,

Strolling on the beach and building sand castles, you imagine life is always this simple.

Sixteen and brisk,

You're galaxies away from cherishing the luxury of slowing down,

Darting from one moment to another, living without a pause sounds like a true achievement to you.

Sixteen and broke,

You still haven't met the delight of owning things you lay your eyes own,

As you walk from a bookstore to a clothing store in a huge mall, you think window shopping is a feast worthy enough.

Sixteen and wide-eyed,

You're yet to travel and unravel the beauty and the mysteries of the world,

Glancing at the images in an old magazine, you wonder if you'll ever dip your feet in one of those exotic beaches.

Young and still unexposed to the realities of life, you dream and fail.

You pick yourself up each time you fall.

You will not know that you'll be offered second chances, mercies, and countless opportunities.

You will not know how it feels to get your heartbroken and heal with no one by your side.

You will not know how scary darkness is and how strongly you fight back for light.

You will not know how gratifying it is to come home with suitcases of souvenirs and heart full of memories.

You will not know how truly amazing it is to have someone by your side, who picks your battles like they're his own.

You will not know the beauty of the things you'll create and go to sleep with a satisfaction that's self-made.

Someday, you will know all this.

You must then remember, that you were destined for this.

That at sixteen, you didn't know what was in store for you.

But you were destined.

For this, and more.

The Cookie Tin.

Throughout my childhood, we had a cookie tin at home. It was made of steel and was sturdy. My fingers still remember how its nooky edges and torn label made it stand out from the rest of the tins. My mother had a habit of putting all the best cookies in this particular tin, mostly because its lid was tight. Tight enough for me to struggle opening it. I guess I was never into Marie biscuits even at the age when I couldn't spot the visible difference between biscuits and cookies. That, however, did not stop me from reaching out to that cookie jar. Because I knew it held something that I longed for.

As I grew old and joined high school, I was still adamant about eating out of that tin. My mother soon began to store more than just best cookies in that tin, but I still believed that it consisted of the things I was forced to eat in a limit. That tin survived my many maneuvers for several years, it traveled with us every time we moved from one city to another and boy, we did move a lot! It became an integral part of our kitchen and I was warned to steer clear of it.

I don't certainly remember when we lost that tin, but I haven't noticed it for years now. Especially this morning when I was storing cookies in a different tin that bore no resemblance to the lost one. I am beginning to think if life is a lot like this. No, I am serious. Did it ever happen to you? You hold on to something - a plan, a work item, a piece of clothing, a book or what the hell, the idea of doing something amazing in your mind and try your best to gain control over it. Over time, it either comes easily to you after a lot of struggle from your end or becomes a part of your existence that you lose track of it. Did it ever happen to you? That in time, you lose the purpose of the thing (or the idea) you once strongly believed in? It is kind of annoying if you actually perceive it in that fashion. Nevertheless, it does not alter the truth. We lose the purpose of myriad important things in our life. Our dreams, our ambitions, our desperate plans to achieve meaning of life - we lose it all.

Sure, the tin might be replaced with another tin that has no stains or uneven edges, but not everything can turn obsolete.

And it shouldn't. Because life does not offer another cookie tin when we lose sight of a purpose or ambition.