If It Were Your Home.

It is eerie how the streets of Goa evoke the pleasure of loving a boy you’ve never fully had the privilege of having. You want to call it home, you want its laidback alleys with burly arms and colourful homes to not treat you like a stranger. Perhaps beseech you to come back on a night you’re leaving, because that’s what home does. You really want to call it home. And why wouldn’t you? Why would anyone not want to call it home?

You’ve always loved waking up to the gentle rustle of waves crashing against each other. Or maybe you are the kind that runs, barefoot, on the beach. Never missing a single morning. In your purple sports bra and black tights with carpe diem scribbled on it, you think you belong. I wonder if you are someone else — a man in his 60s — retired and finally seeking an escape. With your toes in the sand, you look at the sea, with an intent. Nobody really knows why someone like you is here. But what if you are the kind that walks into the beach with a handy cam and spots a few fishermen tugging hard at the boat? You flippantly throw your satchel and cam and offer to help the fishermen, and pull the boat ashore. Would you, kind sir, do this every day if it were home?

The thing is I’m a collector of seashells and a trifling spectator. I watch you from a distance, stealthily glad that this distance is what keeps me away from you and the stranger who, as we speak, is sprinting towards the sea in the name of Instagram validation.

If it were home, would I still collect seashells every morning and observe the people, smells, and colours around me? Would I still wake up to the first beat of my alarm tone?

I want to know. If it were home, would you still cry when you are up in the sky during the sunset hour? Would you stop scribbling your name on the walls? But importantly, would you still come home to it?

Tune for today: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uxTXp0-iZrY

Waking up in Binsar.

“I am not the same having seen the moon shine on the other side of the world.” ― Mary Anne Radmacher

My first solo trip was garnished with commute delays, grim uncertainties, and pleasant surprises. The beginnings and the first steps, I believe, are always the toughest. They are probably built on a foundation that might break with the slightest of trepidation. But I pushed my apprehensions and fears into the corner of my mind (only after a few friends forced me to), packed my bags with notebooks and anticipation of adventures and discoveries.

To read more about my trip, visit https://medium.com/4wd/waking-up-in-binsar-f0aa5e5f2fa3

Left Behind.

I knew you wanted to be engulfed in the magnanimity of the sprawling Himalayas,

and walk the streets of New York,

you were a bit obsessed with the Swiss Alps,

and with the houseboats on the Dal Lake,

remember the times you'd point pictures of various towns and

cities across the world?

and that you wanted to be there,

live there,

see the snow melt in your palms,

I know you haven't been to any of them,

in fact, you haven't been anywhere,

but I will go to all the places you dreamed of,

touch them with your presence,

and maybe leave a bit of yourself there,

after all, I'm a bit of yourself that you left behind.

Sky.

When was the last time you wept at the sight of a sunrise? Did you ever?

I've always been besotted with the sky. The starlit night, the melancholic sunset, and the sanguine sunrise - my romance with all the shades and moods of the sky for an inexplicable reason seems to make me restless, though. Will I ever see them in different cities across other continents? Over deserts, cold and hot, and over clear Californian beaches? Does nightfall seem exotic in Paris and does it appear pensive in Prague? I really want to see the rising sun in Turkey and discover how it actually rises in Cherrapunji. If I had to make a bucket list right now, observing the sky transform its mood from bitter to joyous to charming will top the list.

P.S. Actually, wait. If I could, I would prefer sunsets to sunrises.

Tune for the day: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zp7NtW_hKJI

Waking Up in Goa.

I always thought I was a little cuckoo about new places and new people as I like to look at them with rose tinted glasses, hoping there is something new left for me to discover, something that no one else has seen with their own eyes. So, even when I am surrounded by a lot of people, I am mostly alone, because my mind is overblowing the beauty of new places.

When I told my friends I was going to Goa in June, everyone warned me that I might not be able to do much because it's an off-season. Or that a person like me who abhors crowds and noise can do pretty much nothing at Goa. Well, I came back from Goa with mixed feelings. Feelings that included how I loved being a stranger there and how I disliked the shacks and the pandemonium they came along with. Much to my disappointment, there were no water activities, and I could not witness a single sunset. Neither could I visit the bookstores that were on my list nor could I go to a certain restaurant because of the off-season. And yet, I had a wonderful time. To read the full post, go here: https://medium.com/@sunainapatnaik/waking-up-in-goa-c5e49aeffd55

Tune for the day: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Su2jltmOITU

Waking Up In Dharamshala.

This morning as I boarded a flight from Delhi to take me home after a short vacation, I tried hard to fall asleep after a sleepless road trip. But I couldn't as my mind kept gathering all the memories and experiences that I was carefully carrying back to Hyderabad.

Now, what's the big deal about traveling, you must wonder. Everyone is traveling, everyone is seeing places. But I haven't. This was the first time I traveled to a place without my family or one that doesn't have any family residing in. This was the first time I stepped out of the confines of my comfort zone, and the result was.....well, let's see.

To read more about my journey to Dharamshala, go here:

Waking Up In Dharamshala.

Sunday Ramblings.

I am having a horrible Sunday. There are so many things that are running through my head as I type this. I wonder if I am the only person who hates weekends. I wonder if I will ever be able to love the sunsets and Thursdays again. I wonder if I will ever be able to buy something and not feel guilty about over-spending. I wonder if I will ever be able to feel not so broken again. I wonder if I ever stop crying over songs that remind me of lost love, forgotten childhood, or memories that haunt me in the night. Things around me are changing. I am changing too. I really want someone to tell me that things, for better or worse, will transform into something amazing. I want to keep moving forward. I want the man I love to write me letters and read out his favourite poem to me. I want him to run his hands into my hair and tell me that things will be normal again. I want to be able to wake up in the midnight and write Haikus like before. I want to read every waking moment of my life. I want to pack my suit-case and visit places and leave something behind as I leave each place. I want to come home with souvenirs from every place. I want to cry when I want to, and not in the loo, trying to hide and mask my vulnerabilities. I want to be able to laugh when I find something really funny.

What I really want right now, on this rather sordid Sunday, is to eat ice-cream, read something amazing, count the stars and fall under the boundless sky full of hope. Tomorrow is going to be better.

I am going to make it better.

If I Ever Have A Daughter!

“Daughters. They were sometimes as familiar and intimate as honeysuckles in bloom, but mostly daughters were mysteries. They lived in rooms you had long since abandoned and could not, did not, ever want to re-enter.” 

― Benjamin Alire Sáenz, Names on a Map

If I ever have a daughter, I want her to know that life will never be a bed of dandelion seeds; life will gives a sucker punch and no matter what we do, it takes time to recover.

But I will be there, I promise.

I will give her a tub of ice-cream instead of admonishing her for scoring a B in math. I will not judge her. I will understand God has planned her for different things. 

If I ever have a daughter, I want her to know that friends are meant to be valued in every walk of life. I want her to spend her time and affection only on those who spend theirs on her.

If I ever have a daughter, I want her to know she might love a wrong man and feel let down in several phases of life. I want her to give in to the pain, hold on, and let go.

Even in the darkest of the days, I will be there, I promise.

If I ever have a daughter, I want her to experience the beauty of literature and traveling. I want her to heal her pain with music and art. I will read to her in the night and remind her that she was raised to be like Nancy Drew.

If I ever have a daughter, I will teach her to be compassionate. I will teach her that kindness is above everything and even when looks fade, memories perish, and people transform for better or worse, kindness still endures.

I will love her and tell her the stories of Jane Eyre and Noddy. I do not want her to lose the spark of a child. Ever.

If I ever have a daughter, I want her to know the right man will never ask for more. He will see the worst and the best, and he will choose to keep the both. He will ask for sunshine and thunderstorm.

I want her to know that she should accept his annoying idiosyncratic nature and absolute adoration. Together!

If I ever have a daughter, I want her to know that she should have a career of her own - she might as well be a musician or do crafts for a living, but I want her to know that I will be there for her.

I promise.

If I ever have a daughter, I want her to know that as she walks out of the house, there will be a zillion men who ogle at her like she is a lush piece of meat. I want her to face the sad reality of our society without a disheartened nature.

And on days when she rushes into home wiping her tears, I will remind her that she was born to be a fighter and that she has to fight her dire straits without depending on anyone. Like I promised, I will be there.

If I ever have a daughter, I will give her a pet. I want her to know that the love for animals is beyond everything. 

If I ever have a daughter, I want her to write a journal. I want her to embrace her vulnerabilities and shine bright. 

I will be there for her, I promise.

If I ever have a daughter, I want her to be the protagonist of her story - strong and beautiful in her own way. I will love her for all intents and purposes. 

If I ever have a daughter, I want her to know that all memories are meant to be treasured. I want her to fall in love with her life and make fascinating memories all over the world. I want her to be a storyteller.

If I ever have a daughter, I want her to understand that there are no free lunches in life. I will urge her and push her hard for the good stuff in the life.

If I ever have a daughter, I want her to know that I am proud of her. 

And even if the whole world is against her, I will be there, I promise.

Home: A Short Story

As the plane took off, I kept staring down at the country I was leaving behind. Momentarily or forever.

"I am going home," I murmured in disbelief. How long has it been? A good fifteen years?

Home. India. Home. Hyderabad.

The very thought of home made me wince. It brought back all the unpleasant memories of my childhood, the awful moments spent anticipating the worst to come, evenings spent aimlessly along the Necklace road, the lonely youth, and all the days spent with books and copious amounts of coffee.

I found home in a continent far away from home. I found home in a place called Pasadena which was familiar only on a map fifteen years ago. I found family in a place I never thought I would end up in. The unforeseen circumstances life puts us in.

On a rather sunny day, when I was taking a stroll back from a friend's place, I received a call from my cousin bearing the news of my father's death. I was to go back to Hyderabad, he said. I am the only son, he convinced. And, I am the final fragment of the family that was left, he warned.

I sit back and think of all the dreadful moments I have spent with my father. I cannot forget the fact that he loathed my mother all her life - harassing and abusing her, making her life a hell to live in. I was no exception to the terrible treatment. I received my share. Everyday. Every evening. I recollect all the moments I spent envying my friends who had fathers who went cycling and made paper boats along with them, read stories to them in the night, and had dinners with them. I was deprived of the tiniest joys and festivities. 

I loved my mother dearly. I recollect the days she would come to pick me up from school, wearing a cotton saree with vermillion on her forehead. As we walked from the school to home, her bangles emanated a joyous jingle. It was that sound that I missed the past fifteen years, the jingle that used to tiptoe into my room to check if I was asleep well in the nights, the jingle that surrounded me as she cleaned my room, fed me, and giggled with me.

I fish out my wallet and look at her picture. My mother. I murmur, fondly. 

As a reclusive teenager, I felt lost when my mother died. The pain was excruciating. My mother was the only person who understood me and stood by my side in the whole wide world, and I saw her burn and reduce into ashes in front of my eyes. I still remember the way my father behaved on that day and my abhorrence for him increased to a whole new level and that was the moment I realized I had to leave India and look out for myself.

A new country. Different people. Cultural difference. Demanding course structures. And the pain of losing my mother.

The past fifteen years passed on as quickly as a whirlwind without a thought of my father. I have studied, travelled, met interesting people, travelled a little more, fell in love, got my heart broken, got on with my life, and made decent amount of money. My house is a mantel of memories that brought me an immense amount of joy yet there was something that gave me restless nights.

Was it the forgotten bond with my father? Or the home that I left behind more than a decade ago? Was it the responsibility that I left behind selfishly? I never figured it out all these years, but may be, it was the guilt of leaving my father - a punishment that was too severe.

I have maintained no forms of communication with him, and I wondered how he led the final stages of his life. Surely, the surly old man would have reformed! He would have repented for all the mistakes he has done. I will learn everything about the last fifteen years tomorrow. I will make up for all the time. I said it to myself, more or less out of guilt.

But as I lean back trying to get some sleep, I knew there will always be a part of me that will hate my father. 

Should You Sell Your Dreams For A Lucrative Corporate Job?

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.” 

― H. Jackson Brown Jr., P.S. I Love You

You remember how as a child you would dream, dream to do wonderful things, and as you grow up, you cling on to these dreams, hoping one day you will achieve all those innocent dreams you have had as a child.

Sadly, reality comes into the picture when you turn into an adult. The dreams you've had as a child eventually fade and sometimes, you give in to the pressure that is thrusted upon you by your parents, family, extended family, and oh, how can I forget, the neighbours. 

You have mortgages to take care of, bills to pay, and you know, the dream of turning into something awesome takes a back seat. You are confused! Questions like "Painter? What will you earn? Ten cents? Not everyone can become a Pablo Picasso, you know", "Why can't you become an Engineer? Software industry has a better prospect", "Musician? You should get an MBA degree from an Ivy League." become a part of your life. And as much as you want to chide the people who confuse you with questions like this, you cannot help but agree that they are realistic too. Aren't they?

Should you sell your dreams for a lucrative corporate job? is a million dollar question that we twenty somethings face almost everyday. 

Dear parents, we are clueless too. We want to chase our dreams. We want to be a Jane Austen, a Pablo Picasso, a Bruce Springsteen. We want you to understand that we want to stand out and as much as absurd it sounds to you, we do not need riches. Practically, we all need money. Yes, we all do. But we are struggling here, trying to voice our opinions, and yes, we know the repercussions of not taking up a software job. What can we do? Our childhood dreams haunt us. They do not let us sleep in the night. They remind us of what we are and what we can become.

Oh, we totally understand that neighbour aunt's elder son is an investment banker and has a swanky car in his garage. We admit it, we cannot afford it. Not for the next ten years at least. But we are alright with it. 

So the next time you ask us how we would manage our rent, we want to ask you few questions too. When will we find time to travel and gain beautiful experiences? When will we meet intriguing people like us? When, just when can we do major goof-ups and blame our juvenile phase for it? When will we fail majorly and learn all the lessons? When will we fall in love and experience a heartbreak? When will we experience anything, just anything that is remotely different from what we are doing?

Not all of us here are meant to work under corporate honchos, and turn cynical by the time we turn 30. Not all of us here want an Audi. Not all of us here want an insanely ludicrous bank balance. We are happy to live our dreams. We are happy spending our life creating something beautiful. We are infectiously glad doing what we are meant to do. If we spend an eternity living your dreams, when should we live ours? 

We want to take a leap of faith, and is it too much to ask you to believe in our dreams? Because we are wired differently, and we believe in the beauty of our dreams.

This Is How You Raise Your Son!

This post is inspired from Thought Catalog's "10 Controversial Ways I Plan On Raising My Daughter." The moment I read it, I knew I had to write something similar.

People, or to be more precise, Indians are very concerned about how a girl child should be raised. You know there are a set of restrictions, and some really weird godforsaken rules that are passed on from the ancestors. Some rules are just beyond our comprehension. But I wonder why boys do not have to go through this major structure in their childhood. They are a little lucky. 

I know I am an amateur at this subject, and oh, I have no knowledge at all in this section but I really think it would be great if boys are raised up like this. (Some of the rules apply to girls too.)

1. Teach him. Teach him to respect people, and their ideas irrespective of the age. He must be able to respect people younger than him. Teach him to respect the right things. It does not really matter if the person who commits a mistake is older than him, he should be able to respect the right things only.

2. Art should be a major part of his childhood. Men who take interest in art tend to be smarter than the men who don't. They tend to be more considerate too.

Read to him in the night. Make him paint. Send him to music classes. 

Make a note that art and education should go together. 

3. Have you noticed that most of the men look for the qualities of their mother in a girl they like? It is impossible. Teach them that it is stupid. Your mother and the girl you like are two different people. No one can replace your mother. Teach them that from a very tender age.

This way they will not have any expectations.

4. Raise him without a religion, or a faith. You have been a religious chauvinist, and you know it. Do not let it get to him too. 

Give him the freedom to make his choices right from the childhood. 

5. It is okay if he fails and makes mistakes. Do not admonish him for that. 

It is alright if he scores 80%. Not everyone is meant to score 90%. In the process of abusing him for his performance at school, you are letting a 'Mozart in the making' slip away.

6. There is more to a girl than her looks, and her body. Teach him to respect women. 

This world has enough sexists already. We do not need more of them.

7. Do you find it strange that an individual changes massively after he turns into a parent? Of course, he takes up more responsibilities, and all that. But do you also realize that he turns into a selfish human being? He expects his child (boys and girls) to do everything as he wants. 

Give a break, people. They join the school, college, and an organization of your choice. You choose their friends and the person they are supposed to spend an eternity with. You choose their car, their house, its interiors and basically, everything. Why, just why do that? What is the point in raising a child when you intend to snatch their freedom from their hands when they turn 22-23? Don't you realize that you are turning your child into your replica? 

Seriously, it is not a cool thing. It is high time parents realize this.

Apart from this, we love our parents for all that they do for us. No offence.

8. It is too much for us to handle the male ego. 

Parents should raise a kid with the right amount of self esteem. Not ego.

You have male zeta ego? Good for you! Do not thrust it on others. 

9. Ask him to document his life. Give him a camera and a journal. Ask him to make memories and maintain a note of every tiny detail. Even the bad ones.

10. Travel a lot. Take him to different places. Meet different people. Introduce him to different cultures. Let him know the world. Just let him experience different things.