Posted in Midnight musings

Letter to a dear friend

Hello my friend,

I know we haven’t talked in a while. Not a while actually — in very very long.

I miss you many times, I think of you often. Sometime I walk past a place that is associated with you, sometimes I see your face in my dream, sometimes an incident reminds me of you, and sometimes there is just no reason.

But everything else just goes on happening, and I do not know what to say to you at that moment. That hello I thought about you? And then what?

I know we don’t talk. Remember, how we said, we won’t drift apart? We will always talk. You are my bfffffff my one and only, you understand me like no one does, but we did in fact stop talking.

Funny, how life happens when you don’t notice it. I miss you many times and I think of dropping a text, but then I stop because I don’t know what to say… I worry because I think I am bothering you and you don’t want to talk to me.

Then there are times when I think I am the silly one who holds on to things and moments unnecessarily when everyone else moves on.

But then I remember how we laughed till our stomachs ached, how we visited new places or settled into the old comfortable ones, how when I was scared and alone you held my hand and I felt that things would be easier, how you made me feel important, how I shared my problems with you, how everything with you was a little more fun. I hope I did the same for you my friend.

I have no complaints. I know what happened, why we don’t speak often, we grew up we got jobs and responsibilities or you know circumstances, you don’t even have to explain because I understand. I just want to say I love you no matter how many years it has been or will be since we talk.

I will always remember you. I will always be your friend.

No matter how many years go by I will still recognise you in a mall. Maybe I won’t run towards you because I am scared because I think you don’t want to see me, or that it is awkward, or not cool or something like that.

But I will be happy at that moment. I will always have with me the tiny details I learned about you over time — like how you love purple but you tell everyone your favourite colour is red, or how you eat chocolate ice cream with extra chocolate sauce, how you like to run after little kids on the street and play with them, how you thought that Australia and new Zealand are the same thing, how you are scared of spiders, how you would watch horror movies and then call me in the middle of the night because you are too scared to sleep, how you would always eat too much chilly even when you cannot handle it, how you were too lazy to complete your homework but never lazy to come to help me, how you shared your food with me when I forgot mine, how you stayed over at my house when I broke my little toe, how you travelled a day just to be there on my birthday, I can write forever if I have to, but I will stop.

All I wish sometimes, is to spend time with you again, go again to those places which we called ours. Only the thought relaxes me, specially now when everything moves so fast and I cannot understand who is my friend or who is my foe. But I understand one thing that maybe we never will be the same again, and it is okay, what can we do about it?

I have learnt from my mistakes, I have tried to be better. I think, if we met today you might see how much I have changed in a good way, and be happy for me. I will still make mistakes, it is sad that I will not have the comfort of your words around me, but then again what else can we do.

You know how scared I am of getting attached, of getting hurt.

I worry you will laugh at me if I ever say these things to you, I worry that you will not remember me so I might never say this to you in person. Because I am scared.

When we first moved to a new school, new city, new college etc, I was scared you’ll get new and better friends and forget me, I still feel sad about that at times when I am feeling low and I look around me and do not find you. Sometimes I think it is my fault, and there are other times when I think that is not the case. You chose to stay away, you chose to not talk. You are happy that we are no longer ‘bffffffsssss’, that we do not have to see each other.

Or maybe you think I have changed too much, or you never really liked me and we were friends because it was convenient at that time. I am as confused, but that is something I always was, don’t you remember friend.

I don’t know whether whatever I have said to you makes sense, even if it doesn’t, I know you will understand, because you always do.

I will end the letter now with a thank you. I miss you a lot. And I will always cherish you. I wish we could go back, but while we can’t, I have made my peace with our memories.

I love you.

Your sappy friend.

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Posted in Random

Retweet. Scroll. Yawn. Repeat

Retweet. Scroll. Retweet. Haha. Scroll. Click. Yawn. Scroll. Scroll. Scroll.

What to do? What to do? What to do? Brain feels like metal. Feeling sleepy. Two cups of tea does nothing. Cannot have more tea. Why am I sleepy? Slept for 15 hours, that is more than half a day. When will I write nice and descriptive pieces that manage to move people. Maybe sometime when my brain does not feel like a big block of ice. I need to stop being zoned out. I cut social media so that I stop scrolling, I have now focussed my entire energy on twitter, little less scrolling but the same addiction to my phone screen. Unhealthy amounts of youtubing (is it a verb yet?). Not enough brain enrichment activities. I feel so lonely and dumb, lonely because I do not know who to talk to and what to talk to and dumb because I do not know what to do to get out of this lull.

Been the same for days now. I try to get out but I do not have that much strength. What do people do in free time? How do they have a sense of purpose? Or are there completely uneventful days together for everyone? Is everyone as stupid as me over analysing every thought?

I hate being an editor sometimes, has taken every amount of original creativity from me. Can jazz up anyone’s piece, add unnecessary drama, pour in all kinds of emotions, tighten it, polish it and present it to you so in a manner so that you are compelled to lap up my words. But, where is my own writing prowess, no visuals, no imagination, nothing that will make you let out a laugh or stifle a sob or maybe just sigh because you think I put to words what you failed to say.

I feel that way about everyone else’s copies whatever I read that is. The words run so smoothly, you can taste them before you can read them. The knots in your mind ease because the words are slowly caressing the tense areas, you are surprised yet again at the magic of words because that is what you have been doing for as long as you can remember, from small story books to 1000 pages novels. And everytime your lips read the words and the images played in your mind, you waited, you waited for your time when your carefully constructed paragraphs would tantalise someone’s imagination, you would use alliteration everywhere because that is your favourite stylistic device, you want to write  pretty proses about people and their pets but you are stuck in your head, your frozen, heavy weighing-you-down head. It makes you believe that you are the only thing important in this world and you and you and you and your problems and oh the world so unfair and all the worries of the world upon your weary shoulders so you take pity on yourself and write a 500 word piece about how you are the dumbest person on this earth because at this moment that is all you can do and then go back to Scroll. Scroll. Scroll. Scroll. Scroll…

Posted in Childhood memories, Random

The mango tree outside my window

I have been very lucky to spend my childhood in places that had more trees than humans.

I have been friends with the mighty eucalyptus, the sweet smelling mango, the always in attention Ashoka, the flamboyant Gulmohar and many others for as long as I can remember.

Walking barefoot among the trees, trying to climb them, collecting leaves and twigs and flowers and putting them in my hair are some of my favourite childhood memories.

Even now, the smell of leaves relaxes me. I feel at ease, at home. You can hear and smell the greenery. It is in the air. It is like a cloud that suspends in the atmosphere. The songs of the birds are clearer, louder and if possible sweeter. You can hear the insects buzzing in excitement, they are happy in their home. I am happy in my home. There is a sense of quiet but so many activities are taking place at once, peacefully. A root is travelling deeper in the ground, a branch is growing ever so slowly, a bird is building its nest. The bees are collecting nectar, a flower is blooming, a leaf is drooping, the ants are scurrying, the moths are buzzing and everyone is doing what they should be.

I always took this beauty for granted, like I said, it was my luck that gave me the opportunity to grow up among trees. Then times changed and I had to live in a city where I did not get such a luxury. Even then the common park and all the four-legged, six-legged, winged, tube-shaped inhabitants gave me a lot of happiness.

Now again, times have changed, places have changed for better. There are lesser trees, but we try to compensate it with potted plants. It is not ideal but it is something. There is one tree however, right next to our house. The sturdy mango tree, outside my window — huge, with its branches spreading wide. Spending some time around it has become a daily ritual. It has almost become a friend to me, a very dear friend. We sit and face each other. It sways little in the wind, but I can sometimes feel its leaves enjoying the rain. And when the sun shines again after a heavy downpour, the tiny droplets on its leaves reflecting the light give it a brilliant glow. At a time when everything in my life is changing, its presence in life gives me a sense of security. I look at it and I feel like a child again walking barefoot among the trees, eating berries, trying to catch the spiders, spending time among my leafy friends even in the hot summer with my clothes sticking to my back due to the sweat, collecting flowers and leaves and twigs and throwing them around, carefree, walking around muddying my feet and being at peace…

Posted in Midnight musings

My mother’s cassette player

We had a tape recorder in our house, so huge that when I was small I could not lift it. It was black in colour with blue markings on it. The time when cassettes were still very much in, CDs and DVDs were unheard of and no one would have ever thought that there could ever exist something called a ‘cloud’ that will hold everything you could ever imagine.

That big cassette player was my mother’s loyal companion, it could even play the FM. Whenever she found a quiet moment to herself she would look through her large collection of cassettes and play one of them filling the air with sweet melody. The sound from the old players was something different, I think it sounded sweeter with the slight, ever so often, crackle. It is from her that I acquired the love for music. Her cassettes collected over a couple of decades were placed carefully on a shelf that was too high for me to reach. I would climb on a chair and skim through her collection trying to find something that was ‘trendy’. I usually settled on pop songs like Alisha Chinoy, Bombay Rockers or the occasional English albums the ‘Nanga boys’.

My mother’s loyal companion survived several seasons and transfers, sometimes requiring minor tweaks.

After some years, in my attempt to reach my favourite song quickly I jammed the rewind key. No matter what you do, it would not go down or up. We tried everything. To go back a song now, you had to fast forward both sides. It was again too small a thing to be bothered about for long. But, over the days we stopped rewinding songs as fast forwarding them would take ages. We got used to listening to the whole album once to reach back to the song again… It’s just a song, right?…

It doesn’t matter if you can’t rewind, the good song will come back. It’s on the other side. You have to wait for the entire loop to play. It will come back. It has to….

Posted in Random

Befuddled bemused and bewildered…

I am confused. I hate the word confused so much because I think I have overused it in my life. I have been alive 22 years, 8 months and 13 days as of today if the calculation is correct and I have said this word ten thousand and two hundred and annoying times.

I do not know whether I have my vocabulary to blame — which just proves my point that I am confused. Or I am abashed, addled, agitated, befuddled, bemused, bewildered, blurred, cluttered, confounded, demoralised, disarranged, discomfited, disoriented, distracted, disturbed, dumbfounded, embroiled, flustered, mystified, obscured, perplexed, perturbed, puzzled, stewed, stirred up, tangled, turbulent, unsettled, upset — thanks to the Oxford Thesaurus.

You get the idea. I am confused. I am confused because I do not know what to do, and before you brush it off as a general rant, hear me out because I will make sense, or I will try to. I do not know what to do. I know I have to get up in the morning, brush my teeth, empty my bowels, eat a ‘king sized breakfast’, drink lots of water, clean myself, eat healthy and nutritious food, read read read, reach office on time, edit edit edit, make pages make pages make pages, come back home and sleep early so that I wake up on time. But, why should I do this? I do not know where is it that doing all this is going to take me.

In school, if I studied now I would get good marks in Half Yearly Examination, if I complete my homework in the afternoon, I can watch DDLJ in the evening. If I finish making notes of Organic Chemistry today Mumma will let me go to my friend’s house tomorrow.

If I do not go to office, it will be deducted from my leaves, worst come worst they will deduct my money, after a while they will fire me, and maybe black list me for not turning up. Negative reinforcement and what not. Bad example because I like going to work, except for a few dull days here and there I always like it. But, I do not know what is it that will happen next. Till now, my life has been in a sort of lull, a happy lull. Things were fine, good also, there were times when you can say they were great, I was on the top of the world and everything was nice, and sugar and spice and all those things. I never thought much, maybe I assumed that life would continue to be like this and maybe it is but now I want something else. I never really tried very hard for anything, I wanted a lot of things but like I said I assumed I thought I would get it because that is what happens, or it used to, or maybe it never did? I never had a ‘burning passion’ for anything, I was ambitious yes but not with the ‘fire of a thousand suns’, again like I said I assumed everything would come to me, or maybe this was it? Or I do not know.

The thing is that I do not know anymore, am I working hard right now, because I will be able to watch the metaphorical DDLJ later in life? Earlier I could check in the newspapers what time DDLJ will be screened, now? How do I check, whether there is a channel that will show the movie, do I have the channel? What should I do? I do not know why am I doing the things I am doing? Should I make all my notes and catch up on all my reading and learn about the upcoming Assembly elections in Madhya Pradesh and figure out the politics so that Mumma lets me go to my friend’s house. And I know karam karte jao par fal ki chinta mat karo but it is a worrying thought?

I told you I am confused, there are so many conflicting thoughts in my head. It is like the thoughts in my brain have gone through a divorce and they are forced to stay together because they worry about their child which is me. The thing is I know they must be doing this out of love, but their constant conflicts just leave me in a daze.

I am DISCOMFITED because I wonder what happens to people like me, in movies and books there are always overachievers and underachievers, achieving things and learning lessons and becoming super-duper achievers. What about just people, what happens to us, what do we have to do? Is there a support group for us Averagers Anonymous or something like that. Or do we sit on our big computers and type about the long gone days at the age of 22. I am DISARRANGED because I worry if I have started complaining about my life and I have irrational spells of nostalgia after only being alive for two decades how are the next years of my life going to work out? Forty to fifty years of why why how who why why question question question stupid life why why who why why why why why please why tell tell so idiotic, why why confusion, idiots why who who how how why why why why why why why why why why why why and I will be fed up of myself.

So what happens? That is what UNSETTLES and PUZZLES me. I am STEWED by this thought, FLUSTERED and EMBROILED, I am BEFUDDLED and BEWILDERED.

I am confused.

Posted in Random

What happened today?

I am waiting for something to happen. Something that cuts through this boredom. As has been always I do not know what is it. I do not even know why today is a boring day and why yesterday wasn’t because yesterday was same as today. But today is not the same as yesterday. It is the same in the way that I am alone I have my books  and reading material, I am in office and the work has started coming in slowly slowly. It is different because I do not like it. I am restless. I am annoyed. I want a change.

I pick up my phone. To keep some sense in my life and to utilise my time productively I have shunned social media, everything — no facebook, instagram, snapchat, this or that. I have twitter for news and whatsapp because it works as a text message. Anyway, I pick up my phone, so that I can talk to somebody, so that somebody can take me out of this place I am going in. You know those scenes that you see in movies where everything is moving fast and the hero is there in the centre and he can’t hear what is going around him and he is just there and… I wish I could describe it better, but you get the picture. It is that. But, I want someone to pull me out of this, I am willing to call for help. So, I pick up my phone and scroll through the list of people I can message and talk about nothing in particular so that I feel important about myself. Somehow, it takes too much effort to type a message so I refrain, with some I feel some sort of anger, hurt, like they should have known I am alone and upset and lost and sad and stupid and all the other things at once right now… they should have done something without me telling them. This thought pricks but I move on. I scroll some more to come to the people who were in my life, nothing romantic or emotional. Just people I knew I liked, we drifted apart because we are in different places doing different things. Talking to them seems like the best idea because it will be a departure from the mundane-ness that is right now. I can visit the places in the mind that I have left locked in a box. It might just be the release I am looking for. But I continue to scroll, because I am scared. There is no place for emotion in this time, you cannot call a person you went to college with suddenly and say hey thought about you how are you. They will think that you are either creepy or a loser, immediately they will try to figure out what you want from them, or why did you try and break into their bubble or simply they would be too busy to answer. This again, is something I wanted to describe better.

Being an editor has become a bane for me as I now only know how to edit and not create. Thinking so much about what would be a better way to put my thoughts forward, makes me edit out my own outbursts and real feelings. So funny because I thought of writing so that I can put my heart out on paper. If I lose this as well, then I do not know what will be left of me.. This is the only way I could communicate. If this too goes, then I will be forever locked within.. moving around in that weird movie scene and unable to ask for help.

Posted in Midnight musings

There is a lie you partake in

There is a lie you partake in.

It’s beautiful, so much that you do anything to not let it break. It’s so carefully constructed that you can’t see the truth that has been buried behind it.

If at all, the truth tries to find it’s way out, you quickly find that beautiful lie and hide behind it.

I was a part of a lie too — so beautiful that nothing else has ever come close.

It was my seed, but two other people watered it daily, one more than the other.

It grew up big and strong, so big that it consumed me.

The truth came forward many times, trying to talk to me, but I didn’t want to hear it because of the two people who kept my beautiful lie safe for me.

I always knew the seed was faulty, something I had scrounged for in the storm.

The thick foliage seemed too good to be true, but those two made me believe and I believed because I wanted to.

Then one day they stopped tending to it, leaving it there unattended.

It didn’t grow, but it didn’t die as well.

It’s still in my backyard the beautiful lie — one of the best I have seen.

I go back to it even now, even when no one comes there anymore.

My lie carefully grown by the two who don’t exist anymore.

Their words are still hanging there, their impression still lingers ages after they stopped nurturing the lie.

The truth is poking out, marring the beauty but even now I can only look at the lie.

Alone I visit it again and again to look at the lie.

My beautiful lie, so carefully constructed by two people — one more than the other.