Wishful thinking

An Americano 

To go with 

the candy floss sky

Some soulful conversations 

Tad bit of magic 

In the cool winter breeze

And a whole lot of 

Wishful thinking. 


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.

But there never was or is an 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.


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.