A Dysfunctional Brotherhood

Somewhere between feeling jealous of a perfect brotherhood that isn't mine, and feeling guilty about that jealousy, I found myself in utter self-pity

Being Centred Amidst a Rightward Storm

This whole thing started with a thought that arose in my mind this morning; “Amidst a rightward storm that is swaying away the world, it is so difficult to be centred, if not on the left.”

As political as it may seem, this drift is something much bigger- a drift in the world’s thought process, if I may say so- which has apparently been driven by the political motives of global leaders (and supported greatly by the people) if you so look carefully at our world and our society as it is today.

To begin with our country, let us trail a couple of years back in time. Although there have eternally been clashes between different castes, communities and religions in the past too, I do not recall a time wherein our religion was under the threat of being extinct or ruled over. For that matter, every religion was coexisting, although not very harmoniously, but at least did not have the sense of threat of extinction.

Suddenly, every other person, especially elder generations, are panicking that their culture and/or religion is being attacked or is under threat, and suddenly their deep disguised insecurity has surfaced back on top, too loudly indeed. Every opposing mentality is deemed inappropriate. There is suddenly no room for a difference of opinion, no scope for fruitful, healthy debates, no ears for perspectives.

I clearly remember how it was at home, when I was in my teens. Watching progressive talk shows and then debating about it was a normal thing at home, and it always enriched us with perspectives. Now look at the talk shows that you see. These moderators do not seem very neutral as they are supposed to be. On top of it, they slam those whose thoughts do not confirm to their opinions.

I mean, where the hell is freedom of speech nowadays? If I post my opinion anywhere, and if it does not seem to be agreeable, people start immediately slut shaming me! No debating, no arguing! Directly tagging the person as a slut/anti-national/terrorist/shameless, striping off their dignity just because their thoughts oppose yours!

Forget debates, these days artistic freedom is extensively being challenged and being crippled by the conservative mind-set. A couple of Carnatic musicians who were bringing radical changes to the excessively caste-oriented and religion-oriented set up in the Carnatic music industry in Tamil Nadu, have faced so many hate speeches and backlashes, and appeal for being boycotted across the state from performing, and all this for what? For trying to make the art evolve beyond religion! (Read a brief news here). To top it all, the artist who was supporting them is also being targeted, and his concerts being called off! (Read one of the news articles here). 

An Art is independent of any caste, religion, or sect! Art belongs to all and nobody can refrain one from pursuing it, particularly in an independent and democratic country!

Here, it is not the political parties, but the common citizens like you and me that are completely opposing the idea of Carnatic music being more inclusive towards other religions too. It is just so sad.

These are the same people who commended K.J.Yesudas for singing religious songs on Hindu gods despite being a Christian and Bollywood stars like Shah Rukh and Salman doing Ganapati Pooja despite being Muslims; but they cannot bear with the converse of it to happen! 

This whole behavior of this country belonging to one religion alone is so toxic (thanks to the poison that was inflicted back in 1947) and has become interminable now. This is as though we have lent our own land to them, and as though this country is not theirs; as though one religion holds some sort of superiority under some invisible natural law! This country is as much theirs, as is ours. I do not understand why this is so hard to understand!

If these are not right-wing thoughts in everyday life, then what is?  It feels as though our country’s mentality has regressed back to the 80s and 90s! With increasing use of social media, this battle between the conservatives and radicals is even more prominent. And with most youngsters on the left and their parents on the right, the drift in thought process is creating gaps everywhere, including inside families.

Most children end up being either pretentious or give in to the conventional, reactionary, ultra-conservative, and often times unprogressive notions, just to retain peace at home, for it is much more important to put family values above one’s personal views. People like me end up drifting more towards the centre, trying to balance between the left and the right. However, it is also extremely tough to live and sustain such a duality in everyday life.

Now coming to the part which hurts me even more. If only you were thinking that it is only in India, you are sadly mistaken. A friend of mine has recently shifted to Australia, and tells me about how people there are coaxed into conversion into Christianity and how non-Christians are eyed at differently.

The world overall, if you observe, is increasingly being swayed away by the same storm and the lives outside our country are no different, in a larger picture. Capitalism-driven conservatism, protectionism, trade war, currency war, sanctions, attacks on commoners, political coup attempts, corruption and favoritism, anti-social elements, cyber-attacks, election scams, and this list is unending and all pervasive across the world. only a handful of countries are probably spared of these.

The very storm which is filling the people’s minds with this dust is the notion of conservatism altogether (not only in political context) and indeed we are losing our radical, rational and potentially reforming mind-set to this dust. And this isn’t a pleasant news, y’all!

Think of where we are heading now!

मेरे माता पिता की तमिलियन हिन्दी

हिन्दी के प्रति अपना विचार या हिन्दी सीखने का अनुभव साझा करने की बात आई तो मुझे तो यह ही याद आया कि मेरी मातृभाषा तमिल होने के बावजूद, हिन्दी बोलने, पढ़ने या लिखने में मुझे और मेरे बड़े भाई को तो कभी इतनी कठिनाई महसूस नहीं हुई। मगर मेरे माता पिता का यह सफर इतना आसान नहीं रहा। हाँ मगर दिलचस्प ज़रूर था। मेरे माता पिता ऐसी ही अनेक दिलचस्प किस्से हमे सुनाया करते थे, जिनमे से कुछ मैं आज आप के साथ बँटना चाहूंगी।  

एक किस्सा- मुर्गा का मंदिर 

मेरे पिता, श्री एस. वेंकटरामन, सन 1982 में जब तमिल नाडु के कुंबकोणम नामक एक प्रसिद्ध नगर से काम की तलाश में निकले, तो घूमते भटकते वे दिल्ली आ पहुंचे। हिन्दी बोलना तो दूर, वे उन लोगो में से एक थे जो एक समय पर तमिल नाडु के हिन्दी-विरोधी आंदोलनों का पक्ष लेते थे। शायद कभी सपने में भी सोचा न होगा उन्होने कि न केवल वे, परंतु उनकी आने वाली पीड़ी भी हिन्दी से इस तरह जुडने वाली है कि मानो हिन्दी जैसे उनकी अपनी मातृभाषा हो।

यह उन दिनों की बात है जब गूगल मैप्स नहीं थे, गूगल ट्रैंज्लेटर के विचार ने भी जन्म नहीं लिया था और अधिकांश लोगो के पास मोबाइल फोन नहीं थे। एक दिन मेरे पिता दिल्ली के एक प्रसिद्ध मंदिर के दर्शन करने निकल पड़े। हिन्दी बोलना जानते नहीं, और जगह का नाम मालूम नहीं। बस यह मालूम था उन्हे कि यह भगवान कार्तिकेय का एक सुंदर और विशाल मंदिर है, और दक्षिण भारत के लोगों ने इस मंदिर की स्थापना की है। मेरे पिता जी ने ऑटो बुलाया और बोले ‘मुझे मुर्गा का मंदिर जाना है’। ऑटो वाला चौक गया कि ये कौनसी जगह है दिल्ली में जहां मुर्गे की पूजा होती है। ऑटो वाले ने फिरसे दोहराने को कहा, और मेरे पिता ने फिर से बोला उन्हे कि ‘मुझे मुर्गा का मंदिर जाना है’। ऑटो वाले ने मौका देखा उन्हे उल्लू बनाने का, और ले चले 30 किलो मिटर दूर एक मुर्गा मार्केट नमक चिकन बाज़ार में और कहा ‘ये रहा मुर्गा का मंदिर’। मेरे पिता हैरान होकर सोच में पड़ गए कि ‘मैंने ऐसा क्या बोल दिया इन्हे जो मुझ शाकाहारी को ऐसी जगह ले आया ये आदमी’। बेचारे मेरे पिता, वहाँ से दूसरा ऑटो पकड़ कर वापस घर चले आए।

दरअसल हुआ यह कि तमिल में भगवान कार्तिकेय को मुरुगा (या मुरूगन) बोलते हैं। हिन्दी न मालूम होने के कारण भगवान कार्तिकेय की जगह उन्हे मुर्गो के दर्शन मिल गए। कई दिनों बाद उन्हे पता चला कि उस मंदिर का नाम है ‘मलई मंदिर’ जो दक्षिण दिल्ली के आर.के.पुरम नमक जगह में स्थित है। आज भी जब हम उस मंदिर के दर्शन करने जाते हैं, मेरे पिता उनही यादों के साथ यह कहानी फिरसे दोहराते हैं।

माँ के शिक्षक हम

अपने शहर चेन्नई के बाहर की दुनिया से बिलकुल अंजान, मेरी माँ, श्रीमति एस. गीता, दिल्ली आ पहुंची सन 1991 में, शादी के तुरंत बाद। अब गृहणी होतीं तो आस पड़ोस के लोगों से घुलने मिलने का समय होता और इसी बहाने थोड़ी हिन्दी भी सीख लेतीं। मगर वे ठहरीं कामकाजी महिला जो केवल अंग्रेजी से काम चला लेती थीं। हिन्दी सीखना तो दूर उन्हे हिन्दी सुनने में भी कोई दिलचस्पी नहीं थी। आज भी याद है वो दिन जब मैं और मेरा भाई आपस में हिन्दी में बात करने लगे थे, और हमारी माँ ने हमे डांटा कि ये कौन सी एलियन भाषा में बात कर रहे हो, तमिल में बात करो घर में।

परंतु यह समय भी बदला। अब सरकारी दफ्तर में काम करने के कारण उन्हे हिन्दी में कार्य करना सीखना पड़ा। तब हम भी स्कूल में हिन्दी सीखने लगे थे। वो दिन भी बड़े ही दिलचस्प थे जब हम स्कूल से हिन्दी सीख कर आते और शाम को अपनी माँ को घर में हिन्दी बोलना सिखाते थे। हमारी माँ हमेशा वस्तुयों के लिंगों को उलट पुलट कर देती थी, और हम उनकी इस नादानी पर हस्ते रहते। 27 साल हो गए पर आज भी हम उनकी इस विकलता को दूर नहीं कर पाये हैं। माँ हमे स्कूल टोप्पर बनाने के लिए रोज़ हमे पढ़ाया करती थीं, और हम उन्हे उनके हिन्दी कि परीक्षा पास कराने में मदद करते। अपनी माँ को कुछ सिखाने का मौका हर किसी को नहीं मिलता। यह एक और वजह है कि हिन्दी मेरे दिल के इतने करीब है।

यह सच है कि सबको अपनी मातृभाषा सीखनी चाहिए। शायद इसी कारण हमारे माता पिता ने हमे ऐसे स्कूल में पढ़ाया जहां हिन्दी के साथ साथ हम अपनी मातृभाषा में भी कार्य करने के लिए सक्षम बनें। इतना ही नहीं, हमारे घर में एक नियम है कि घर के अंदर कदम रखते ही कोई हिन्दी में बात नहीं करेगा, सारी बातें केवल तमिल में होंगी। कई बार जब गलती से हिन्दी में हम कुछ बात कह भी देते थे तो उस बात का कोई उत्तर हमे नहीं मिलता था। और शायद इनहि कुछ उसूलों और नियमों के कारण आज हम दोनों भाषाएँ बोल, पढ़ और लिख सकते हैं। पर कहते हैं कि जिस भाषा में आप सोचते हो वही भाषा सही माइने में आपकी अपनी भाषा होती है। तमिल भले ही मेरे लिए अत्यंत प्रिय है, पर मैं सोचती हिन्दी में हूँ। शायद इसलिए मेरा मानना है कि तमिल मेरी मातृभाषा है और हिन्दी मेरे मन की भाषा है।

ये जुनून-II

मेरा जुनून साहिल है।
साहिल, जो मेरे भीतर है।
जिसमें भीगी हूं मैं। डूबी हूं मैं। आकंठ।
साहिल, जिसका किनारा भी मैं। मौज भी मैं।


साहिल, जिसे सोचकर ही मुस्कुरा लेती हूं मैं।
जिसे बिना देखे भी देख लेती हूं मैं।
जिससे न टकराकर भी, मिल लेती हूं मैं।
साहिल, जिससे होकर गुज़रती हूं मैं रोज़ाना।
साहिल, जो थोड़ा सा मेरे भीतर और उतर जाता है रोज़ाना। 

Why I walk away

If I love you, I would never ask you for too much. Neither attention, nor anything fancy or material.

If you've known me, you'll know that I either love or I don't.
I know not anything in the middle;  There is no grey area in my love. And this applies to my love for my friends too

But, I stay only till I'm respected, even if not loved back with the same intensity.

As long as my love is being respected, and I'm being respected, I need nothing in return from you.

Else, I walk away, with no answers given, no questions asked.

And I'll tell you why.
I may love you with all passion, with all my heart and soul into you. I can go leaps and bounds in love.
But I love myself as much or even more than I love anyone else.

So if I see myself being disrespected, or my love being disrespected, there's no going back from there.
No redemption. No amends.
I drift. That's that.

ये जुनून

मेरा जुनून "साहिल" है।
"साहिल", जो मेरे भीतर है।
जिसमें भीगी हूं मैं। डूबी हूं मैं। आकंठ।
"साहिल", जिसका किनारा भी मैं, और मौज भी मैं।

(विशेष धन्यवाद उन्हें, जिन्होंने मेरे जुनून को पहचान कर मेरे लिए यह लिखा)

Can I, please, just live as I am?

Can I, for once, just say how empty I feel, without being judged for being so emotional?

Can I, for once, just show my emotions out, without being asked to be more tough?

Can I, for once, just shed out my anger, without being told that I'm a total emotional piece of wreck?

Can I, for once, just let myself be true to every natural human feeling, without being adviced that emotions make you weak?

Can I, please, for once, just talk it all out to you without being given a pile of suggestions and advices to follow?

And Can I, for once, just rely on you for being my listener, and not my judge or guide at this moment?

Why is there an urge in everyone to show themselves as someone so tough and rigid and almost stone-like on the outside?

Why is there an urge in people to do everything possible to conceal their vulnerabilities?

And Why is there an urge in people to immediately tell people to toughen up, the very moment they feel something deeper than they're told to feel?

I don't understand how this masked life works really!
Can I, please, just live as I am, without having to pay a price for every genuine word I say and every genuine deed I do?

Can I, please?

Knowing so little; Being so little

Punched two new holes in my heart;
One from my expectations and another from the disappointment that followed.

Words matter just as much as actions do.
For sometimes, all I expected from the world is a few kind, meaningful and genuine words.

But little did I know that kind words either make no meaning to people today, or lack genuineness in its very basis.

Then, I expected a few kind actions from the people around me.  But little did I know that kind actions have some hidden intentions too.

Little did I know that all this while, the very problem was the expectations, and that the disappointment was meant to follow.

Soul (Sole) Freedom- 2

Every dictator is a dictator solely because he knows that the people will follow what he commands them to.
To be a rebel you needn't make noise and protest that you will not take the suppression and oppression.
Such rebels seem to me as fools, who go around gathering more and more crowd in support.

Instead if you choose to be what you want to be, do what you want to do and believe that in any which ways, you are already free, and this sense of freedom in action is imbibed in every soul in this earth, there can be no human power that can control us.

But unfortunately, this needs a deeper spiritual connection with our own soul. (which we lack).
And a conviction that we are in fact the master of our own life, and nobody else can be that but us.

What we do have instead is fear.
And where there is fear, my friend, there can never be freedom.

Look at history and you will find that only the fearless have been free throughout.
No one human is more powerful than the other.
We are fools to associate someone with power due to the fear that they may have something that we do not.

How foolish. Don't you see, he has the same flesh and blood, bones and nerves that I have in me?
How can he be anything more than me?

Never, ever, believe someone has the power to make you kneel, bow or fall on their feet.
Never, ever, believe that some human can be as mighty as god,
and if you do see god in someone, realize that the same god is in you too.
Never, ever, make a human your god.

Soul (Sole) Freedom

There are people who love me beyond compare.
But I wouldn't like to believe that I am their whole life.

I may be someone extremely significant to them,
But I wouldn't like to believe that they won't survive without me.

I may be someone they think is indispensable for their lives to be complete,
But I wouldn't like to believe that I am irreplaceable.

And it is this belief of mine that sets my soul free.

कलम की कहानी / Kalam ki Kahani

ज़िंदगी एक किताब और हम मात्र एक कलम हैं।

लिखना क्या है मालूम नहीं, फिर भी हम लिखते जाते हैं।

  

पर हर कलम की लिखी कहानी अज़ीज़, हर कलम की रंगीन स्याही अज़ीज़ है।

और लिखते लिखते बन जाने वाली सैकड़ों नयी किताबें अज़ीज़ है।

लिखते लिखते एक दिन स्याही ख़त्म होने को आई तो  

कलम ने उस लेखक से पूछा “ये कैसी किताब लिखवाई है?

कोई दिलचस्प कहानी नहीं है, कोई बड़ी कामयाबी नहीं है।

हर पन्ना बस एक जैसा, मेरे जीवन में कुछ भी सुहानी नहीं है।”

लेखक बोला “मैंने लिखवाया तुमसे वोही जो तुमसे लिखा जा सकता था। हर रोज़ मर्रे की कहानी में भी, तू कुछ निराला बना सकता था।  

सबकी कहानी मै तो केवल एक ही तरह लिखवाता हूँ। जैसा कलम चाहता है, मै तो वैसा ही लिखता जाता हूँ।”

काश कलम को पता होता की ये जो उसका जीवन है, इसमे लेखक लिखता वो है जो कलम को लिखने का मन है।

कलम तुम्हारा ये जीवन भी ऐतिहासिक बन जाएगा, जब रोज़ मर्रा के जीवन में कुछ निराला तू कर जाएगा।

कोई इसे पढ़े न पढ़े, तेरा जीवन सफल हो जाएगा, गर स्याही ख़त्म होजाने तक तू मन का गीत लिख जाएगा, बस मन का गीत लिख जाएगा, बस मन का गीत लिख जाएगा।

Mumbling Mind is Not-So-Kind

With a mind full of mumbles on a day full of workload, I wonder how to put this brain to work.

With a mind full of mumbles on a night full of silence, I wonder how to put this body to rest.

With a mind full of mumbles at a dawn of tranquillity, I wonder how to make this mind go numb.

And when all of my days have slowly begun to vanish, I wonder where have I been gone for so long?

एक कलम की मोहब्बत

तुम्हारी ज़िंदगी की किताब में लिखने वाली मैं, केवल एक कलम हूँ।
स्याही खत्म हो जाने तक तुम्हारी कहानी लिख दूँ, बस यही मक़सद है मेरा।  

Perception and Significance

Someone's perception of good vs bad for you, and the level of protectiveness towards you,

are enough to showcase how significant you are, as a part of their life.

I guess that way, family will always be number one, vis-a-vis the rest.

Friends may be somewhere in the middle of that list,

and colleagues/acquaintances somewhere towards the end..

But how does the ranking of people's significance help us evolve as people??
Does it help us at all?
Too many thoughts in between, and I am suddenly lost under the pile of my own questions.

Sigh..

My Mind Mumbles Empathy

Somedays are difficult.
Sometimes we all go through days like these.
But it's difficult all the more when you cannot express how your day is going to anyone around because of a fear of lack of empathy, or just the fear of being tagged as a "crybaby", "attention seeker", or something of the like, which you are generally not.
But today, i want to share the pain by trying to express it simply.

Imagine your body being stung by insect bites at 30 different spots on your body when you are asleep, and you wake up and have to start a day with all that itch.
Now imagine you have a body with extremely sensitive skin that even an itch can peal your skin off.
Now imagine having the pain of your skin pealing off from 30 different spots on your body at one single time. And imagine having to do your daily work chores with that pain. To top it, add the situation that you do not want people at work to know that pain, and have to pass away the day normally, also having to address questions such as "eww is that a chicken pox mark?" with an answer like "No, its just allergy mark."

I go through this every other day when I'm struck by an allergy. And what I'm more used to than the allergy's pain due to my skin pealing off is the disgusted look i get and more than that, the ignorance of people who matter to the fact that you are in pain.

It made me stop wanting to express it out to people at all. Especially when it is about bodily pain. Because trust me, as much as everyone wants to be heard, no one actually wants to genuinely listen.

Thankfully i have a blog that is read by less than a dozen people, and mostly those who hopefully don't have the tendency to poke me where it hurts.

But I feel the urge to tell people through this post to be a little more sensitive towards people's invisible pain. Of course I'm not telling you to sit and cry for them, for all you know, they don't cry for themselves either. Just TRY to develop empathy towards people who seem to be in pain, even if they don't tell you they are in pain.

Home Will Never Be The Same Again

All our lives so far our parents kept us strung to their cords,
Always protecting us, and often unintentionally neglecting
our need to face this world alone.

All our lives so far our parents kept telling us we are strong
and independent enough to live alone when required,
while also wanting deep within that such a day never comes
when they cannot be beside us.

All our lives so far we have been pseudo-independent,
and pseudo-strong and one fine day, we stepped out
of our transparent bubble, which was rather our ozone
since the time we were born.

What happens next is what we never expected from our lives,
but something that our parents' silent cries fail to show us;
that 'Home' will never be the same again.

We face new things, and with every new day, we need them more.
But the irony is, when they do come, we do not approve of their ways anymore.

We meet new people and make a family of our own,
But the irony is, you'll always call them your family first, no matter what age you grow.

Hurdles come and pass, so do good times,
Memories appear, reappear and fade till their translucent,
Yet the best time will always be those spent inside
the ozone of their love.

From 'staying' at home to 'visiting' home,
From our home to mine & parents',
Life shows us many instances of how a branch
broke out from a tree and became a tree of its own,
yet the new tree has in it the resins & gums of its parent
and so will its new branches and the trees to come.

The circle may probably never end.
Each branch breaks out to become a new tree,
each home gives way to newer ones.
But within every new home will lie the translucent memories of
the days when our lives were strung to our parents' cords,
only to remind us that
Home will never be the same again.

दर्द-ए-आशिक़ी/ The Pain of Love

ये दर्द-ए-आशिक़ी भी कमाल की चीज़ है,
जो तुझसे नाराज़ होना चाहूँ तो ख़ुद से खफ़ा हो जाऊँ।

The pain of love is so ironic,
that I end up being disappointed with myself for being upset with you.

An Untitled Thought; An Unwelcome Pain

The sensation of hollowness coming from within
is like some unknown force punching holes into my heart.
It has been a couple of nights since
a sense of disappointment is tearing me apart.

It's sad how some of those who love me dearly
do not or rather can not feel this discomfort I face.
Or maybe the very wrong I did is expecting them
to read me without knowing why it aches.

It all comes down to one thing in the end,
expectations fail you, not the ones who didn't meet them;
disappointments hurt you, not the ones you blame to have caused them;
and the hollowness is a reminder that life's but a cycle of fulls & empties after all.

Him

The onset of  autumn '16,

just half a month past monsoon,

when excitement about a new job, 

new people and new experience was plenty.

Day 1:

I struggle with a door latched by biometrics,

a watchman watching my failed attempts cluelessly,

a stranger opens the door for me, from the other side of the world I was just about to step into.

With an unrequited smile, I walked ahead curiously.

Few months of happy-work-life later:

With a room full of partially known faces,

faced with the obligation of spending 8 hours of forced fellowhood for 5-odd-days,

I sat excitedly next to the stranger who opened the door for me on Day 1.

As curious as I was about the week ahead, to talk to this stranger was the last thing in my mind that minute.

A few awkward glances later:

Pointing at the ring on my hand he asks "Who bought this for you?",

knowing what he'd meant to ask, I said, "Mom did. For my birthday."

Sharing mutual grins, we continued with our routine of practice,

which seemed to completely bore this man, while the exact opposite with me. 

5-odd-days-of-forced-fellowhood later:

At 5:00 AM in the morning, forced into the morning schedule,

was my Monday which was supposed to bring an utterly shitty week along.

1 hour past, I see myself looking at the mirror in the ladies room,

with a smile so wide and a tickle in the tummy.

Ridiculing my inane excitement at the sight of this person,

I decide to keep my sensibility hat on.

The days that followed were a mix of my one-sided conversations,

and his constant efforts to seem genuinely interested in hearing the trivial attention to details of my stories, which made no sense or meaning to this poor listener.

Crux of the matter by the end of this week: a new friendship in the making.

2-weeks-of-casual-coffee-times-at-work-and-hi's-&-shy's later:

Something about the person made me feel too clinged to vapid thoughts,

reminding me of my past, I ensured that I stayed glued to my sanity,

"We're just colleagues", I told myself every time I traversed to my imaginary world filled with amorous conceptions with this new person.

Giving in to my endlessly coercing mind resulted in us going on our first real date.

2-weeks-from-the-first-date-later:

Bombarding in my head were some questions I had no answer to,

"Is this love?", I asked. 

And ended the day with "What did I just do today? God, Why? Shouldn't I just have waited for another few weeks before falling? What will he think of me? Won't he think I am toooo desperate? What if he said it back because he just had to? What if he meant nothing like that?"

"Of course, it won't mean anything, nobody means so much in such short span. Just be okay with letting go anytime, if that happens to be the case", I ordered myself.

A few months of unknown terrain later:

Things kept happening, I keep feeling and unfeeling the feelings,

I keep doing and undoing my love,

typing and untyping some words that mattered, sending love letters like a clod,

and often wigging myself for being too much, feeling too much, thinking too much.

He said that he felt similar things too, which was probably the only saving grace to my asinine heart.

Belief was my armor and faith my savior when the questions I had still, received no real answers.

An-email-from-another-world later:

A sudden sense of joy and sorrow had blended into one moment of lump in my throat.

Tied up at work, with only 30 minutes left for the shift to end, he still managed to come to hear what I had to say.

A blend of happiness and excitement on his face gave some solace and relief to my heavily pounding heart.

Amidst the many things I was unclear about, there was one certainty in the scenario-that I was going to leave the place.

Neither of us knew whether we would last, but both of us knew that we could make us last.

Two-months-into-the-new-world later:

A casual summer day of '17, 

monsoon in my world, sunny in his,

thankful about the fact that we've lasted two months since the distance creeped in,

I hid silently beneath the kitchen window at his place.

Clueless about my arrival, he comes in and sees a bunch of chocolates and a hand-written love letter that meant not so exciting to his eyes till then.

Moments later, I ran closer and jumped on like a spider-monkey,

leaving his lips speechless for a couple of hours, till it finally sunk in his head that I was here for a surprise visit!

Little did we know that it only marked a new beginning to a deeper love for both of us.

Our month arrived:

By August, this was it. 

This is all that we needed; each other's companionship and love.

August was our month of love.

August marked the beginning of bigger words with real meaning,

with even more meaning in the silences we shared.

August marked the outset of a more valuable relationship, more committed partnership.

Today:

All I need to summarize happiness, peace, and contentment is: HIM.

We

Some days are tough to handle,
Some nights ruthless.

I always end up thinking about the possibilities of being with you,
Tricking the world fool and running away from everything,
All I want mostly is to be in your soothing company.

Because when the whole world seems to be changing wrecklessly,
You are my constant salvation
from the odd realities.
And when it comes to emotions, you know I'm not that easy,
But despite some twists and turns,
You and I are always back to what it's meant to be;
"We"

In Search of Solace in Solitude

Loneliness-
isn't associated with the lack of people to care for you;
isn't related to living alone;
does not come with the pain of unrequited love;
need not be caused by any act that left unhealed wounds.

It's more than just a feeling; beyond the purview of right and wrong.

It's that hollow sensation in your gut that pinches you when you're disappointed of being attached to people.

It's that lump in your throat that aches every time you don't utter something you were supposed to, because you think that there's no point; that it doesn't matter.

It's that quiver in your body when you are faced with something that you already know but weren't ready to accept so far. 

It's that loss of belief in the words of someone who matters; in words themselves; in the existence of true words; in the existence of truth.

There are different phases of being lonely; some shallow, some deep.

It does not necessarily represent you're sad. Or just does not ALWAYS mean so.

Why I Resist Home

I resist going home.
I resist being home to someone too.

I resist the very idea of home lately.
"Why, though?", I thought.

"Home is not a place but a form of love. It's hard to resist love, ain't it?"
"Why still?", I thought.

"Maybe because 'going home' comes with a pain of 'coming back', and 'loving them' comes with a pain of 'leaving them' with the uncertainty of 'not knowing when we'll meet again; whether we'll meet again'.

Loving, comes with the pain of letting go.
While the heart's become accustommed to loving, it is still painful while learning to let go, every single time I return from there. Perhaps, that's why", I thought.

From a Body Full of Asymmetries to a Mind Full of Mumbles

I was born with a big black birth mark on my back. It's shaped as though someone had stabbed my back to death in my previous life. To that my mumbling mind says "That's why it seems like Déjà-Vu, every time someone betrays my trust now". 

I have a body full of asymmetries; one eye smaller than another; nose so tiny that my parents say that I was born with only two holes of nostrils in place of the whole nose; one hand bigger than another by almost a centimeter; two feet of different sizes with enormously longer fingers adjacent to toes. All these and many other asymmetries known only to me, to which my mind mumbles "There can surely never be another me, for unless I disclose these to anyone, nobody can turn as perfectly asymmetric as me".

I'm sure everyone is their own kind of unique. How accepting we are to our asymmetries is totally upon our outlook towards life as a whole and our individual selves in particular.

It'll take it's own sweet time. You'll hate yourself some days. You'll seem too fat (thin) to yourself some days, too many marks on your body, or maybe not as glowing a skin as you wanted, despite the thousands you spent on cosmetic remedies. I tell you, one day soon, you'll give up on being perfect, you'll stop the external cosmetic remedies that torch your body, your mind, your peace. 

The same mumbling mind will give you the answers you need; the pep talks you want someone out there to give you; the "best-friendly" advise that you seek from someone else- it'll give you all.

All you need to do is be okay with who you are, strive to be a better person; healthier than yesterday, happier than today and content than ever before.