I believe you 

When you say you miss me 

I also believe 

All the silence 

that you throw my way 

It doesn’t make any noise 

But hits hard enough 

To leave a bruise for days 

I believe you 

When you say you’ve been hurt 

I also believe 

In that ache I feel 

When you refuse 

To acknowledge my hurting 

I believe it all 

The said 

The unsaid 

I just don’t know 

If I believe

in myself anymore 

To have the strength

To believe in us. 

On airport and books 

 So I am at the jaipur airport and the flight gets delayed by 2 hours and majority of my time goes in the bookstore, it is a small shop in the shape of a rectangle and all the books are shabbily kept, but hey, I wasn’t complaining. I finalised on 2 books, one of them was for a class I took that semester: An introduction to Indian Philosophy. And the other one became the best book I bought on the entire trip. Here’s the thing, I associate the places I’ve been to, the trips, to the books that I buy in that particular place. The genre does not matter, but I have this overwhelming urge to purchase a book to remember that moment in that particular place when I buy it. Being a literature festival kind of a trip I bought 9 books and surprisingly the best book I bought was found at the airport.“In other words” by Jhumpa Lahiri is a book I’d heard about but did not bother buying because I felt like the time was never right. And this time around I actually bought it right before leaving for Pune. I finished it the evening I started it, not because it was full of suspense or something like that but because sometimes some books just speak the language your soul. 3 pages into the book and I felt like I just made the best decision of the year already. It was like just the book and I, were the only ones at the airport, the pages were coming alive and I was having a heart-warming conversation. Does it ever happen to you that you watch a movie, listen to a song, see a painting or read a book and just feel so content, so full? Like at least, for a while you won’t need anything else because every time you feel like you’re missing something you can just read a few chapters from that book? Listen to that song on repeat?

This form of art made me want to reconnect with something that I lost touch with for a while now. It reminded me of why I started something that I was passionate about in the first.Maybe this was the most appropriate time for me to find and read this book.

Dream 

Your dreams belong to you.No matter how big or small, it matters. That dream is like a sacred place in your mind and soul. So when you decide to let someone in on your dream, in that comfort zone of your soul, please do not be disheartened when they brush it off, or even worse, laugh it off. 

When they don’t share the same enthusiasm as you, please don’t let it weaken your confidence because there is a different sparkle for every pair of eyes when they talk about something they’re passionate about.

And When you decide to let someone in on that idea that you’ve been so afraid to speak out loud, please do not expect them to help you carry majority of it forward. You’re the one who is going to have to do the most (or all of it) bit. 

You owe it to your dream to carry it forward on your shoulders, not as a burden but the way superheroes wear their capes, with pride, dignity and the will to fly when even though they know that something could go wrong and they might fall. 

So don’t let anyone convince you otherwise. You dream is solely yours and that is what makes it unique. 

Writing- an escape to reality 

Writing has always been an insightful escape. I mean, sure movies and music have saved some heartache from time-to-time. But writing comes to the rescue like nothing else. It is like having a conversation with someone you know would understand and would know the right things to say. You know the kind of situation where i cannot lie to myself.  
I have been writing a lot these days. Mostly in my journal. The whole putting pen to paper and writing my heart out at 2am kind of a thing. And that can only mean either one of these things, either there’s a volcano of inspiration waiting to erupt inside me or i feel more broken than ever.I am not complaining though, i love it when i write, but why is there always an overwhelming urge to write about what breaks me rather than what makes me happy? Yes, it makes me want to cry and sulk (maybe even howl) but by the time i have reached the last word i feel accomplished, like my heart feels less heavy. It is this journey on its own where my escapism takes slight turns into reality without letting it be too harsh.

Does that make sense? I don’t know. It doesn’t have to. A lot of things don’t right now and I wouldn’t even be realizing any of this had i not started writing it down.

Writing about nonsensical things is the only thing that makes sense.

For a second there

For a second there

I forgot about the chaos outside

And about the raging storm inside

 

For a second there

I forgot about the fact that

My feelings should be caged

Because I am in a public place

 

For a second there

I totally forgot about

The responsibility of having

To study for a test tomorrow

 

For those few seconds

It was just me with my journal

And the music playing in my ears

 

A private conversation between us

Unknown to those around

It was the comfort of an unnerving solitude

 

For those few seconds

I refused to see the situation

As either black or white

 

During a storm

Grey is how the sky appears

But for a second there

I embraced it

And I swear

Nothing felt more beautiful.

Her eyes shot open as she tried to make sense of what was happening. It was just a nightmare, the same one she’s been having often since the past few months. All she can see is a massive tidal wave coming towards her. But no, it doesn’t hit her. She would wake up feeling restless. Anxiety would wash over her and for a few seconds she’d have difficulty breathing. She tries to calm herself down by staring out the window at the stars, she was always fascinated by them. When nothing around her would make sense, she would try to contemplate the stars, maybe walk out and sneak a beedi.
If you look at her, she seems like just any other woman in her early forties living up to the social norms of the society. Married, living with her husband and 2 daughters. To the people her life seems to live up to the definition of ‘normal’. But what they don’t know is, she is a free-spirit, a wild soul caged by the expectations of others. what they don’t know is how she is always secretly annoyed by her husband and how the only good outcome of this marriage are her two daughters. But she is never bitter about life, always hopeful. Every night she goes to bed hoping for a better tomorrow. Whenever she is sad, she’d retreat and take a walk outside because nothing calms her better than being around nature.

She wakes up this morning with a smile on her face as observes that the weather is cloudy and there’s a possibility of rain. She does her chores, kisses her kids bye before they leave off to school, and hold on just for a few more minutes till her husband leaves. A slight smile appears on her face as he walks outs, as she knows she will yet again take her self out to the unexplored parts of the town, go to secluded places to clear her head. For when it starts raining, that is what is going to be her escape, and thats the moment the beedi will have never tasted better. 

Talking it out rant

Honestly sometimes I don’t understand how the brains of adults work but then again I am an adult too now. Which is really hard to believe because I either act like a 9 year old or at times I legit act like a 69 year old, so yeah I am either too young or too old, there is no in between.

The only time the in between is experienced when I get into an argument with my parents. That is when it feels like that I am actually a young adult. Because when you’re a kid you don’t really get to experience those intense fights with them and when you’re too old, well, you are just old and pretty much have lived more than half your life so I do not think they’re THAT concerned with you making a mistake.

All of that being said, let’s get to the whole argument thing when you are a young adult. You think you know things, maybe a little too much and your parents think you’re practically Jon Snow know when it comes to the world. You know nothing. So one simple thing which could have had a simple answer blows completely out of proportion and all of the things that you might have done wrong in your entire life come up erupting like lava from a volcano in the form of words. Let’s be honest, if it were up to them they would bring up things you did wrong in the past life as well.

You know, you are either the suffer in silence types who will just listen to them and not voice your opinion or you are straight up in the zone having an answer for everything that does not even come out as a question from them. But still, all you want is to be heard by them or at least given a chance to be heard, it sucks when the answer comes out to be no even before you finish the question. It is not always okay to be silent and let your parents always get away with voicing out whatever anger or opinions or comments they have, I get it that you do not want another argument, but that is not healthy. It will do nothing but make you passive aggressive in the future. You need to let your thoughts out even if it is your parents, and if you don’t think the middle of the argument is the right time then hear them out, let them cool down and speak to them to the next day when they are calm and are willing to listen. Do not bottle up your emotions like that, at the same time that does not mean that you say mean things and absolutely hurt them for no reason, what I mean is, talk to them and try to reason. Tell them what hurts you, things that are bothering you and the so and so things they should not have brought up in the argument the night before and how unfair that was.

Maybe things will be better after that, maybe they won’t but at least it would be a step you take towards handling things on your own in a way where at least you are letting your thoughts out and making them heard without the other person trying to cut you off again and again. I mean this is my way of dealing with these kinds of issues but I don’t know all of a sudden I don’t get why I am writing about this. Probably because I have something like that going on at home right now and after having heard everything and knowing that there was no point arguing back as nobody wanted to listen, I let it go like I always do and will talk it out in the morning.

This really feels more like a rant kind of post than anything, I guess I was just trying to explain this to myself by writing it out.