You know healing is not easy. The act of it requires you to stand up, gather yourself piece by piece and take a stride. The weight might affect your walk, but you have to keep trying and fighting. And that is what I am trying to do.

I had forgotten that I had ‘The Artist’s Way’ in my closet. And just yesterday, I discovered it again. I want to really give it a try. I am certain somewhere it will help me understand some things, if not everything. That is also some progress.

I abandon such initiatives a lot. But this time, I really want to give it a try? Do any of you want to give it a shot? Please do let me know in the comments.



Don’t fall in love

You know what? Don’t fall in love. Just because that baggage will have a dimple or an eye colour that has caught your fancy, don’t let your guard down. Don’t fall into the trap of lies being serenaded as the truth. You will plummet into misery, and this fall will be so painful that even a Phoenix will not be able to rescue you. Don’t fall in love. Its promise will make you walk the extra mile. And the destination will be a dead end. When you look towards your side, you are not going to see any footprints. It is a losing battle with you as the only commander and soldier. The only thing it will leave you with are moody words and extra kilos. It will not even give you something that will be faithful to you at all times. You will be left to grapple with an art that refuses to budge. The aftermath of love will be a soul-slicing pain. One memory at a time. One unfulfilled promise at a time. You know when lightening leaves its gash on a tree, that’s the kind of scar or maybe scars you will have, once love is done with you. It is not just like that Cupid is shown with an arrow. They hurt and their pain is only felt when you don’t have answers to any questions or all you can see is a blank. Do yourself a big favour. Don’t fall in love.

Breaking Bad Cliches

People love throwing one liners at us. Yes, I am looking at you my writers’ brethren.  You would be hearing some gems like “Be your best every day.” But why don’t these things come with a goddamn manual? (Pardon me. I have been binge watching Breaking Bad)

They tell me that I am losing the distinction between fiction and real. I am sourcing out pain just for the sake of writing, and that I can write about happy incidents also. (Leo Tolstoy just shook in his grave)

So if I get a job that I love ( Universe, why don’t you make some of my hypothetical situations come true?) should I be writing something like “My crushed heart came alive. It’s as if someone just picked up my pieces and with the Elder wand, put it all together”? (#JustPotterheadThings) I think I would need a diabetes test if I write sappy and sugary every day.

Then there are these other gems that i come across. I am told that I should let go and get a little wild. Ya, I saw what happens when Walter White lets go and breaks bad. No thanks, I am good with this.

Then there are these other set of clowns who will tell me, “Move on. No point looking back. He has got his special one.”

Firstly, is he out of his mind to choose a mere mortal over a writer? Okay that was too much. But still, you are getting my point right?

And Facebook is a pal to these idiots. After a long day when you open your timeline, what you see is, “Wifey’s pasta was super tasty. #YummyForMyTummy.” What the fuck did I just read? (Send an instruction to your heart. PLEASE FALL FOR BETTER GUYS IN THE FUTURE). Come on, you don’t want to spend your words on such douchebags.

And then comes the classic, “Find the answer within you.” How does one even do that? A friend told me that I should sit with a paper without any distraction and just write what I want to do or love. I just drew some random doodles and wrote lines here and there. The universe’s system of luck distribution is really messed up.

And then the best part is when the universe throws you another curveball. It places you in House Introvert. When you go out with folks, they tell you to talk. But my point is what? Your power to start a conversation is low, then how can you have a stimulating conversation with your aunt’s husband’s sister’s uncle’s brother’s sister’s son.

Oh! And be warned. In such situations, everyone turns into a CCTV camera. All eyes on you. If you put a strand of hair behind your ears, you are flirting ISW (Indian Standard Way). Be aware, writer girls.

And what is also weird is that I intended this piece to be a how-to on being your best. (Yeah yeah one blind man guiding the other). But I spoke of everything around the point than the point itself. #JustWriterThings

P.S: Suck it in, Universe. You did not win. I wrote, bitch!

And after some months…

It’s been a while since I have dropped in here. Like I have said before, this is my personal space. I don’t need to worry about rules or craft or anything like that. There is so much structure in my daily life that I need a space bereft of everything that attempts to put me on the ‘right’ month.

I was worried that I am going to suck real bad at my new job. Well, me being me, I still think that. But, some days are better than those panic-driven days. Yesterday, I had a good day. Everything I wrote was the way it should have been.

Now that I am on it, I hate this word, ‘should’, I hope I could do away with it. It’s a single word with so much weight. It is enough to bog a person down. It is powerful enough to clip wings and suffocate courage, leaving it to endure a slow and painful death.

How many times have all of you thought to do something out of your comfort zone, and then a should has rung a bell following which you have taken a step back?

A nice art assignment came my way, but I don’t think my skills are to that level yet to be able to deliver what is required.

Yesterday, I was talking to this writer friend of mine. He is a phenomenal writer but his insecurity and that need to be perfect is getting the better of him. I told him that writing, one thing which is meant to be beautiful and free, is getting tinted with all this purpose that is being attached to it. The day we start writing just for the sake of writing will be the day when we might actually like a piece than put it up for comparison with other writers.

I have also started chanting. I was doing that before. But I had stopped for some reason. And now I am chanting at least once in the day, which is good progress, I feel.

Anyway, I am signing off now. I hope my break is not too long this time.




Free writing

Sometimes, I am really glad that this blog is not too popular. I can come here once in a while, and write what I feel like without any worry. No one will really judge me. In the present world, the concept of space is fading. With social media becoming an important part of our live, there is nothing that is really private. Ironically, this blog post is far from private.

I miss my Dad, so much that some days I feel my heart might just burst holding those kind of tears. I have not cried in a very long time, and even if I am in some situation, the tears just show up and never fall. I am on the verge of making an important decision, and today I felt that what if dad was here. He would have guided me and said to go ahead without any fear, and that he will always have my back.

I called up my mom, and she is not too aware about these things. She told me that end of the day, it is my call.

And at that point, I felt this yearn to hear my dad’s voice. After a point when your decisions are not taking you anywhere, your confidence to take decisions continues to reduce. There are days when I have tried to not let this misery consume me. I have been successful and on days like these, I have again hid myself behind my words.

A musical undoing

Music has a way of undoing you. Over time, you are able to put yourself together. You are already grappling with changes and the ones that will take place, and one song is able to tear it all apart. And just when you are at the brink of taking a leap, there you are finding pieces of yourself once again. For some, this is an on-going search and for a lucky few, they are able to do this in no time.

Some days, I really want to shake myself. This behaviour seems too unrealistic and unreasonable. More than to others, you owe yourself some opportunities. And you cannot let some music, which is laced with memories, take them away from you.

It is not necessary that re-establishing ties with a He and She will restore everything to normalcy. You long for that time and not those people. And there are times when you will fancy a conversation with those people, but why give the baton of your peace to someone else?

Thinking these ‘what-if’ probabilities about this He and She might just cost you an opportunity, which could do with some attention. They have crafted their happy beginning and you are yet to begin your story. So where will your loyalty be?

Let the river of nostalgia flow with all its might. It is not necessary for you to wash your hands in it all the time. Create the flow of your story than overflowing in someone else’s memory.

The beginning of the quill

I was an average student. A ‘nobody’ in the farthest corner of the class; with my head sunk into a Harry Potter book or any novel. School was bearable because of two of my closest supports. I did not have too many talents. And at that age, I did not know that it was really okay to be an introvert. All I knew was that I could read. It was an English period that changed something within me. Not a gigantic change, but it was my first step. 
Shobha miss was one of my English teachers at school; and when I think of her, I always remember that one period. That day, miss had asked us to write a poem. This was in the seventh standard. I had never attempted writing. I just looked around. The sight of heads bent into notebooks and pens dancing in the air did not serve as an inspiration. I went into a panic mode because I did not have a story within me whose magic I could bring out in verses. Or that is what I thought. I closed my eyes and just looked into my desk. My copy of ‘The Twins At St.Clare’s’ lay in front of me. I thought that maybe I could write Enid’s story in verse. It was a book that I had enjoyed. I wrote my poem using a typical ‘abab’ rhyme scheme. I particularly chose incidents from the novel that had left me with a smile. Once everyone was done, miss asked me to read my poem out loud. And to my shock, she actually loved my poem! To actually hear someone praise me in relation to academics was surprising. And later that day in the night, I wrote a second poem for Daniel Radcliffe. And after that day, I never put my pen down.
It was a poem written in the seventh grade that began my writing journey; it taught me that I need not be a ‘nobody’ biding my time in some corner of the class or trying to be someone. I could still be myself with genuine words as company, if not people. 
This World Poetry Day, write that poem which is aching to be realised on paper than just languishing within all that hidden potential. May the verses be with you. Always.