At the very beginning of the year, two days and twenty two hours ago I pledged to myself on being positive, on not letting sadness slyly creep over my soul and grow a garden on my heart.

But today something shifted, on my way back home as I sat watching the world pass by, headphones lodged in my ears and one hand absently lodged on the seat belt, I wondered.

On the pointlessness of going to work every morning, of the one-way one and half hour of commute, of talking to people around with the aim of appearing as decent human beings, of counting all the lovers we have had and the ones who have yet to knock on the doors of our hearts, of appraisals and performance reviews.

I close my eyes and picture myself a mere four days ago, in the middle of a man-made forest in a city where even flies jostle for space. Of the cold breeze tickling my arms, of how the scent of the forest changed at five in the evening, the smell of wet mud and moss, of the leaves pouring out their scent, of tall dark green trees and tiny grass inroads, of Banyan trees that reach out to envelope you, of the view of the Ganges on my right with sunlight playing on its waters, of listening to the dry leaves crunch beneath my feet.

More often then not I find myself out of place in large air-conditioned offices with blinds that hide the movement of day from you.

I crave to lie down in a meadow, with the sun in my face and grass in my hair. Where time, that we break into minutes and box in watches and calendars, cease to make sense. Or just be, no schedule to follow nor emails to write, no one to please, to cry when I please or laugh my heart out, to sing aloud and read plenty.


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..


I pulled a chair into the balcony, it had been raining since morning, at times a cloud burst and bought in a fury of water, thundering and rumbling and then so, it drizzled and poured, like a woman unable to make up her mind, leering at the pastry counter and weighing whom she loved more, chocolate or butterscotch, yet ultimately taking two of each.

For most part of the day, there wasn’t any electricity, so me and an empty house, the rains, rhythmic melody of tip tap and fragrance, grey skies and lush green trees, tiny rivulets running down the length of my arms and pools of water in the grasp of my palms, trying to win endless battles against the laws of fluid dynamics.

Making myself a cup of coffee, a book and a pillow plonked on my lap, I wondered how long it had been since I felt at peace, no internet pulling you into the virtual world, no television screaming at the top of its lungs, no soul to put a brake on the train of your thoughts.

If I could, I would buy myself a piece of the sky to lie under,

A little place in the forest, where its scent rubs off on you,

And if you were really quiet, you could listen to your heartbeat.

Shut your eyes and disappear underneath a sky full of stars,

Watch the mountains from afar,

Let the rain seep into the pores of my skin,

Spend hours making constellations, and guessing shapes of the clouds.

An invisible corner in the middle of nowhere,

For when thoughts burden your shoulders and make your head feel heavy,

To take a pause from time.

Walk away from the mess,

Paint your nails red, the leaves pink,

Carve love on the barks of trees.

Wait for the waves to bring back what was once yours,

And the wind to take you, to where you truly belong.


I dream of having a forest in my backyard,

Laden with tall pine trees and jasmine plants.

Whenever I walk and run through, its after scent hinges onto me,

For Days. Months. Years.

To build a swing with ropes and tie it to a high branch,

Feel my feet rise above the ground and my hair sway with the wind,

In a lush green open field, scattered with daisies, white and yellow.

Sleep under the stars, clear dark skies and dazzling twinkling stars,

Paint all the beautiful lines that have ever been written,

Across walls, on the streets,

Writing love, one word at a time.

Dangle my feet from a high rise, sitting on the parapet,

With a glass of rum with ice clinking,

Trying to grow my wings and fly away…

Wind and Words.


This post is a part of Linda’s stream of consciousness and the theme for this week is, ‘in- Find a word that begins with the prefix “in” or use the word itself anywhere in your post’.

Initially I was going to write about the injustice that is belted out to women in general but then I had a change of heart after a discussion with Pa about the state of affairs of my country.

There are definitely many things that are wrong with my country but what also needs to be understood is that India is a young country, a country which is struggling to keep up with the age old beliefs as well as embrace much needed changes.

Here women are oppressed, without a doubt but then a few decades back, education to women was considered unnecessary and many women were only home makers and never worked in offices, a few more decades earlier there were practices like sati, which is the voluntary or forced burning or burying alive of widows. However slowly as time progressed we did do away with these harmful beliefs, and I have the faith that though it will take a few more decades, we will reach a point as a country where women are treated at par with men.

There are many advantages to being an Indian too, we can go to a really high mountain, have a safari through a really sandy desert, camp out in a really dense forest and chill out on really beautiful beaches.

All this without the need of a Visa!

A few places that are worth visiting are:

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India is a culturally diverse country where languages, beliefs, food and culture changes within a few hundred kilometers. Officially there are 30 languages recognized by the Government of India but unofficially around 780 languages are spoken, also how can one forget the festivities!

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Though with its fair share of follies, India is truly ‘Incredible India! ❤ 😀