Taken for granted.

There are lots of things we take for granted, now I could be philosophical and tell you about the people in your life that you take for granted, the non-questioning of ‘why me’ when good happens in your life or the fact that you are here, now, reading this on a screen with access to internet and electricity.

Instead, I write about what I feel like I had taken for granted all along and realised the importance of only when I don’t have the opportunity to exploit its presence.

A not runny – not stuffed – not blocked nose!

I haven’t been keeping well thanks to ENT problems, but what I miss the most right now is a fully functioning nose. The one that twitches at the strong smell of a half spilled bottle of jasmine attar, or can guess what is being made for dinner as soon as I climb the stairs, or the odd hibiscus in my kitchen garden or the act of just breathing free without scampering for tissues and otrivin.

This might sound strange but I can smell rain a day before it really thunders and showers, thanks to my nose, I’m caught at an odd without an umbrella – safety cloth over my head situation.

Now slightly drifting from today’s topic, I haven’t been writing much.. I had this irrational fear of putting my thoughts out, every teeny tiny thought and twinge of insecurity out there for the world to read, know and go hmm. I have many a times contemplated of shifting to a more anonymous blog (really shut the curtains tight and type in the dark over the faded light of a screen and odd blue glow of velvety curtains, safe to say I have the cartoon imagination of what it is being really anonymous) but then refrained. Sometimes when you don’t like the amount of light in your house, you just pull across the drapes or buy thicker curtains which is probably what I plan to do with this blog.

Lets hope that I find my sense of smell back.



I have been having the urge to just run away from everyone and everything around me. To just step out of the life that I’m living. To stand out and see my life as it passes by.

To vanish, sublimate, disappear.

I celebrated my birthday in obscurity, in the midst of a forest where there was no cell reception, no internet, no electronic devices. Ample amount of sunshine, star gazing, dense forests, incessant chirping of birds, campfires and books, blankets and blankness.

Then I rang in the new year in a city that I fell in love with, mostly ate bun maska, watched the sun set, the leaves of calendar turn, the sea as the world went past, of singing at 1 in the night and not a care about what next.

And since I’ve been back, the only thing that I can think of is to run away. I don’t know to what, to whom, with whom, where, when, how, why. So many questions. And just no answers.

I zone out with people who talk relentlessly, sit cradling a cup of strong chai and just stare into space wondering if I’ll ever feel the rush of something, whether I’ll feel something maybe ever fall in love, the lala land type, if the pain will ever go away.

I stare at the fan above and remember the ceilings of all the rooms I’ve ever slept in, some I’ve spent hours staring at in the darkness, some have been marred by tears streaming down my eyes, finding their way and disappearing in my hair, some of them have the loudest laughs, the chorus singing and most of them with books with dog eared pages perched on my chest lost deep in thought.

This year there will be some and then more..


Okay, to hell with it.

I was going to write something sensible. Pour out sufi thoughts over here in line with a heartbreaking mail that I wrote today morning. But honestly I’m tired.

Why is love tiring?

Why can’t we just automatically find our ‘soul mate’ or whoever it is that we are supposed to live with for eternity?

Why do the people you love turn out to be wrong for you?

Born in a different century, Married, Commitment phobics, In a different state of mind or perfect?

More than half the people I know are heartbroken, the other half are love sick. We all have our own issues with love, at times we don’t find our match, sometimes we do but we are scared in our own weird way and drive people away, sometimes our not so better halves run away, infatuations are mistaken for love and at times we just don’t want to.

I’ve been holed up every weekend at home with myself, sure I day dream about falling head over heels in love most of the time but I’m scared. Petrified of putting in that effort, going out on dates, finding people to date, talking on the phone and getting involved in general, new dreams with them making a regular appearance.

Hence, I have decided to not look/search/seek love, if it wants to find me, it would have to pull me out of the pile of blankets that I’m under and convince me to fall back in the trap.

And to those who have given up, its okay to not want to look at the world around in love tinted glasses, its okay to not want to believe in the book romance and its okay to leave matters to fate.

But to all of those who still have their hopes up, may you find the strength to love and not stop seeking for it, may you cage your heart behind steel enclosures and not get hurt. May you find what you are look for.

Because what you seek, is seeking you..

Thoughts over the week

I bury my nose in a pillow, my legs resting atop another, I close my eyes and inhale. A tired muffled sound, of fatigue of travel that has come tumbling down. Through the streets of sri lanka, specks of sand that coat my legs, sting of salt still in the humid air, to the winding cobblestone streets in England, behind closed windows that smell of illicit affairs, to strolling down generations in Calcutta, nostalgia of a language, of a childhood that ran by, a stream of events that altered the course of many entwined lives.

Over the course of two days, I devoured 3 books, in the company of a tall glass of sweet brown chai, 6 marie biscuits, intermittent rains and a burst of glitter coloring the skies.

Oddly I feel like the words have traveled, through my fingertips and into my veins, an odd sense of calm in my heart. The promise of the pages of a book bearing the story of a library in Japan to make peace with the pile of work that the week brings.

I watched a movie last Saturday, and of the many words uttered between characters, one line struck a nerve, rather an artery that made my heart bleed, yearning for a long forgotten feeling. The protagonist describes his happiness as “dil ka pet bhar gaya“, which loosely translated meant that the heart’s stomach was full. What a strange yet accurate way of describing happiness, the feeling of contentment, of not wanting any more.

Oddly enough this got me wondering about companionship, of the feeling of content that seeps through your pores, makes you heart smile, sends your brain on a high, makes your pulse race. Offlate my phone has been buzzing with messages, some etch a punctual good morning, others indulge in flattery, words strung like a delicate string of pearls, of brash inquiries of weekend plans, of resorting to reason for a yes.

I have realised, been painfully aware of it for a while that I bear no affection for a skin, dressed in expensive clothes, doused in aftershave and perfume, of a collage of words from movies and books, of the need to replicate the usual romantic gestures.

What lies beneath that carefully embroidered mask and the instant noodles philosophy that you are so quick to dish out, of the things you think when you are alone, of the thoughts that haunt you, of the talisman that you live by. What drives you, stops you, makes you smile, brings tears to your eyes, crack into laughter or descend into silence.

There are days like today when I do not feel the need of someone else, when I’m mindful of the fact that I have nothing to give in return for someone else’s time. When I can feel the gears that keep the clock of this world running slow down, my heartbeat sink to a low whimper.

When solitude no longer means being alone.

Clarity – Over the clouds

In the last post I had posed a question, one that had many answers. Some said a hard yes, others a feeble no, and a meek maybe.
Well last week, I had gone for a training to another city and what did happen there gave me the time to think, actually take a walk, feel the wind caress my skin and let all the thoughts settle into an organised chaos.
For all 3 days I woke up with a pit in my stomach, half nauseous of the incredibly long day that lay ahead. And I did cry too, wailed like a two year old just cause I wanted to cry amidst all that confusion.
But one thing that did turn around was the clarity of my thoughts, realizing that most things in life boil down to a single choice, yes or no, and its consequences whatever that they may be. I met people whom I last spoke to donkey years ago, had a merry time with the food, rains and music. Also managed to catch a stand-up comedy show last sunday, something that I wanted to do for long.
So this is it maybe, my decision that hit me when I was in tears during a telephone call, just over whelmed with all had happened and was happening, I decided to stay. Till the time I no longer can fight.
So let this be a challenge, let it push me to the extent that it can, let me make more opportunities to learn and grow and trip and fall. Cause sometimes you need a push and learn from experiences.

As much as I would want comfort and long nights with nothing to do, sheepishly I admit that I like the rush of finding something new, the uncomfortable itch of not knowing.
I had a long talk with someone wiser beyond years who made me realise that its okay to feel that you aren’t good at something, no one automatically is good at things, skill sets get built, but the moment you start feeling that your job is easy, easier to get through, and monotonous that is when you should listen to the sirens but not when you have to put a fight everyday.
And here I am, 6 months wiser maybe, stronger than what I was, I’m sure the ride isn’t going to be easy but all I can do is grind my teeth, clutch the handlebars, and not get off the roller-coaster.
I’m immensely grateful for the advice that I’ve received on this blog, of the support and the mails and texts. This couldn’t be done without all of you, my own set of guardian angels.
And the fact that I met an incredibly handsome man on a pool ride two days ago, with the perfect smile and the pause when he spoke, the depth in his voice, the calmness of his expressions, his mid conversation laugh, the checkered sweater he wore, all terribly heartbreaking. Helped me get perspective on the much needed important things in life 😉


Have you ever questioned everything that you do/ have done?

Off-late I’ve been having this sneaky feeling, I have this tiny voice inside of me that has been screaming at me that I’m probably not great at what I do. The thing being that being good enough has never just sufficed for me.

Since childhood I’ve learnt that practice makes one perfect, hence whenever and where ever I managed to get stuck, I’d put my heart in it and practice. And because I’ve had pretty less experience work wise and most of what I did till now is study, this system worked wonders.

Almost 6 months into this field of work and I can see my confidence wilt and wither away. Every assignment is different, and with each of them, I’m barely managing to keep my head above the water or whatever it is supposed to be.

I like the field, its interesting, challenging but maybe I’m not cut out for it. Like the time you know something is great but its maybe not just yet meant for you.

In the effort to keep trying, I’m getting burned out. From putting in long hours (really really long ones) to talking about different techniques with others, trying to learn the various aspects of things, I’m falling in this pit of unhappiness.

The point that eats me up from within is that I want to be good at what I do, no not just good, great. If I am putting in all this time and effort, then it should be for something worthy, right? Some universal input – output law.

Pushing myself this hard has left me with absolutely no time, and if that isn’t the case then the lack of energy/motivation to do something else. To try and have a life outside and beyond work, to not constantly be in my head.

I’ve spoken to people about this, of shifting lanes into pursuing something else in the creative field or really building my skills in terms of what comes easier to me and that I feel is my inherent quality (communication/writing?). On the other spectrum is the crowd that say that I should stay, for learning ropes of this business atleast a year would make it count. Six more months seem far too long, but I honestly don’t know what to do.

Slightly at my wits end, I haven’t really got any feedback as such on my work, so do I take that and then decide where it is that I’m headed or just make a mad run out of this for whatever it is that I supposedly maybe headed for?

With all the doubting and second guessing and multiple time checking of what it is that I do, I have managed to stress myself really badly. Have a swarm of negative thoughts on what if situations. And hence I’ve been listening to positive thinking videos on a loop.

Frankly speaking, I’m terrified deep within. The not knowing thing is scary. Will I be stuck doing something that I’m not good at? Am I running out of time to make that choice? Do I stay or go? and if I do run, run to what?