Sometimes, just sometimes

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DON’T PLAN.

I love this part of the bridge, specially at this time of the night. Long drives have provided me with so much peace, that I’ve always wanted when I needed to think straight. The wind’s still blowing and throwing some strands of hair on my face. I smile. Today I realise that why planning is such a waste. I’ll tell you why too. You know how when you hangout with your friends and one day they ask you your ‘type’. And you’ll just give an answer that every girl/boy would give. You would want them to be handsome/good looking of course. Then, they should also be humorous. Humor is anyway, attractive. They should dress well, smell good. And ultimately understand and support you. That’s the kind of answer I gave them too. And I know you guys won’t be surprised when I tell you that nothing went as planned. I fell in love with a person I never thought I would. I fell in love with a person who’s just a bit more complicated than you can think of. It was nothing like they show in movies. Not even a bit similar. On one day you’ll find him happy, he’ll seem to be the best person you’ve met in your life. And the next day, he won’t say a word. You’ll try to make him talk, try to make him open up, but he won’t. He would crouch back in his cocoon for a few days. And suddenly one day, he’ll be back leaving you confused. He sucks at confessing and is a master in overthinking. He’ll always be so caught up in his own problems that he won’t even notice when is it that you’re sad or happy or angry or anything else. He’ll crack jokes at times and in those jokes indicate something to you. Something deeper. And again, they’ll leave you confused. You’ll just struggle to understand him. You’ll think that with time it’ll get better. But it doesn’t. And the problem is, it doesn’t get worse too. It’s like you’re stuck there. You’ll be so frustrated when he promises to call but doesn’t. When you ask him why he didn’t, he’ll tell you that he had something going on in his life, something that breaks the rock solid facade you were trying to maintain. And then in that very moment, you’ ll fall for him. Again. He’ll tell you that he doesn’t like getting all dressed up. You ask him why, and he’ll tell you that it’s a strategy to draw people away from him. You’ll see the truth in that. You’ll see that broken soul that people overlook. You’ll see that person who’s just trying to be real for once. And you’ll fall for him. Again. He’ll tell you that he doesn’t look good enough. And you’ll tell him that’s not true. He won’t believe you and in that moment, you’ll feel like you don’t matter, not even your opinion. He’ll have nothing to say when it’s the right time, just nothing. And some days, you’ll feel tired of being stuck there. But then, can a few words that I’m writing or a few days of that frustration make you stay away from him? You’re right. They don’t. He’s not someone’s type. He’s not a person someone dreams of being with some day. He’s not the kind you’ll like in the first meet. But then, nothing goes as planned, doesn’t it?

So that’s the point I was getting to. I know I weaved some words together into sentences this long but I kind of hope that I’m not the only one who’s been through this. Anyway, I just want to tell you that stop planning about things because they are going to turn the way you never expected them too. You may tell me that he’s not good enough, that he doesn’t deserve me. It maybe true. It maybe not. But that doesn’t matter. And as it turns out for me, I’m still happy. When I planned things, I never knew someone like him existed. And life surprised me. So, just wait for your surprises. And stop planning. Because some things and some people you see today, may become an inseparable part of your life some day. And life may take a turn soon and leave you spellbound.

Evolving through life.

Endurance isn’t a virtue. When I was a kid, whenver I fell and hurt myself while playing I would just go crying to daddy, and daddy would always tell me to be strong. Just like all other kids, I did not pay much attention to what he said because what was the need to be strong when you always had people you could run to when you encountered some problems! Now, things have become different. Now, that I’ve officially become an adult do I realise what he meant. I know what I or maybe we need strength for. I still have them, my parents and I still can always count on them when I face a problem but it’s different now. Whenever I encounter a problem anymore, I do not run to them. Although, I may feel weak at times, but the same ‘me’ talks to myself and tells me that I can be strong, definitely stronger than the adversity I’m facing right now. I know I have them to ask for solutions, or for sympathy, but now, I appreciate their presence more than actually using their presence. I, not only want, but maybe need to build walls by myself this time. I’m not really saying that you don’t need others in your life anymore as an adult. No, definitely not. The difference lies in our developement level as a kid, and as an adult. As a kid, it’s like the problems that enter our ears, leave them without getting filtered or processed, and enter our parent’s ears, who ultimately on this basis decide upon the action to be taken. While we, as an adult do the processing and filtering job by ourselves first and then, if we find ourselves unable to find solutions then pass it on to our elders. Just a difference of development levels. I’m not really writing this over some scientific fact I discovered or something else like that, it’s just that I’ve heard people say that growing up sucks. But maybe like every other coin, this coin has two sides too. Ofcourse, you rarely hear about crimes committed by children, because again, ofcourse, adults have brains which are highly developed than children. But let’s be pretty honest, aren’t living beings especially humans, the luckiest? I mean, we get to experience the best of both worlds. While other living beings in general, may have longer or shorter life span than ours, aren’t we privileged to experience innocence and intelligence and curiosity for an amount of time that’s just enough? The world has taught us so much. And we’ve learnt so much. The good part is that this is going to continue, the learning part. What if we were a child for the whole life? Like there was no ‘being an adult’ phase? Wouldn’t have we craved all our life for being a little more sensible, little more mature, and more learnt and developed, just like we wanted to be in our childhood? Can you just imagine craving for something for your whole life? I don’t see anything but stagnation in that. Life without a purpose. Work without a result. And a phase with no beginning and no end.

Well, I don’t want to force my views on all those reading. But I feel, maybe, growing up isn’t too bad. Nor is growing old. Nor is changing the perspective with which you see the world, or learning new things, or so many more things that come to us as we enter the new phases of life. After all, aren’t we as humans, supposed to be the most intelligent living being on earth? How can we be that, if we do not learn more, change more?

Will I ever be not ready for it?

“You’ve been such a wonderful writer, you know. It gives me so much happiness when I see you surprised and smiling at the same time to know that I had already liked your blog before you told me you had posted a new one recently. 

Do you never wonder why am I so curious everytime to see what you’ve written lately? Will you ever wonder? 
I still search myself in your words. I still try to find something that is between the lines, something that is just for me, that’s left unseen by evertbody else. You told me that a writer’s work is inspired and influenced by what happens in their lives but they present it in a way that is so different yet so similar to what has happened with them in reality. Well, we’ve had our moments. We’ve had moments when we were standing on the edge our our cliffs, just about to fall into each other. I know we never fell, but the feeling, the  exasperation, the desperation and the tiredness, was it not worth writing about? Well, I still search for mentions about me in your lines, while you are the one who’s just always dominated my pieces. 

I am still standing on the edge of the cliff while you’ve returned. Five years back, I would never have believed in the power of emotions and attachments. But now, I know that a human can feel everything so very deeply, each and every day of their lives for as long as five years (and more).

Since the day I met you for the first time, I’ve been ready for it, ready for us. But will you ever be ready for it?”

Not settling for less. 

They say take heartbreaks as lessons. Remember what your mistakes were and do not repeat them again. Because if you do, then you’ll go through one again. 

And when I heard this for the first time, I misinterpreted it. And many of you would have too. But with time, I’ve understood what it really meant. 
After things with him went downhill, I felt alone. All I learnt from my past was, that I was wrong to trust someone, I was wrong to be the more loving one in the relationship or I should say I was wrong to show what I felt about him thousand times a day, that I was wrong to tell him that I loved him whenever I wanted, that I was wrong. And I was determined that next time, I won’t be wrong. I would let him love me more. I would play hard to get and he’ll have to yearn for my love before I give it to him, because let’s face it, people value those things more that are not easily within their reach. 
But here, I was wrong again. I was wrong because this meant that I had to be someone that I wasn’t. This would mean that I would have to change myself, compress my feelings, let it out only when needed and that too in small amounts. This would mean that I would have to calculate every step before I take it, I would have to think about every word that I’ll utter from my mouth so that he doesn’t take me and my feelings for granted. And yes, I would be wrong again if I go through this, because this would mean killing a flower just because it was not allowed to bloom somewhere. And I’m not ready to do that. I’m not ready to be someone else. I’m not ready to stop being real. 

I’ll make him coffee in the morning whenever I’ll feel like before comparing what he does for me. I’ll still give him surprises because I’ll love him smiling and I’ll say it whenever I see him. I’ll still call to check up on him and make him realise that there’s always someone who cares. 

And if he’s the one he won’t consider me desperate. For him, this won’t be more than what is needed. It would be just what he had always wanted and always needed. And that’s why he’ll value everything that I’ll give him. Until then, I’ll wait for a person for whom I am not a ‘too much’ or ‘too less’, but just enough.

Letter to best friend. (Part 1)

“I had been searching or a blessing in so many people. I’ve always had the opinion that people stay when you want them to stay, when you do things to make them stay. And in the past years, I did everything I could to make people happy, to make people feel enough, or maybe to make myself feel enough for them. But then, somehow, they always left. I tried not giving them reasons to leave, but they did, no matter what. And after some time, I kind of started blaming myself for it. I started searching faults in myself. 

Four years ago, I met you for the first time. I was the new girl in the class. We did not get along very well in the first few months, but then they rightly say that what’s meant to happen always finds its way. And ever since, I rely upon you with my eyes closed, with my hands holding yours, with my head resting upon your shoulders, and with my life circling yours. I found my blessing when I wasn’t searching for it. Some days I want to sit and cry happy tears the whole day because I’ve started believing that I’ve been one of the luckiest persons on this earth. I had always felt that I’ve done more for people than people would do for me, but with you it’s always the other way round. Anything I do for you seems so less, so minute, in comparison to what you do for me. 

There are days when I am scared of the world, there are days when I put my armour down and on those days, I see you taking the shape of my armour. There are days when I feel frustated of life, there are days when I start doubting myself, and on those days, I hear you telling me that you believe in me. I wouldn’t believe it when someone else says it but when you say it, it does seem to be true. When you say it’s okay, everything gets okay.

I count you as my family, because just like the family that has been with me through thick and thin, you’ve been too. 

I do dream of a family of my own, a house, a good job. But I dream of making them come true with you by my side. I dream of telling our children our stories when we were younger, and I dream of seeing them so enthusiastic and amazed by the bond that’ll still exist between us, that will outgrow everything that’ll come in its way.

I do not really care what the world thinks of me. I’ve learnt that there are too many facades out there, all so loving but underneath them lie their true faces. But your opinion matters to me, because you’ve seen me when I didn’t know how to ride a bicycle, because you’ve been with me when I had got allergy from the peanuts, because you’ve seen me when I’ve cried and laughed, because you’ve been there when the world wasn’t. And I know when you say things, you’ll mean them.

After you entered my life, I’ve realised that a soulmate can be found in anyone, even in a best friend. I still don’t know how you’ve perfected the art of knowing how I feel just by hearing my voice. The random long messges that you send when I’m down reminding me that I can do whatever I want in the world and I deserve the best are what I’ll be grateful for. 

They say you do not say sorry or thankyou in friendships. But let me say it, because I am grateful. Grateful for the way you’ve changed my life, grateful for being a constant reason for my happiness. 

I sometimes wonder if I’ll ever say someone that I love them as many times as I say it to you in a day. But then, I do not regret being aapreciative, being thankful. Because sometimes people know that you love them, but it’s okay if they forget it sometimes. It’s okay to remind them.”

P.S : I’ve titled it part 1 because on any day I may feel like writing for her again and any no. of words won’t be able to describe what she is to me.

“The scars of depression are beautiful only if you come out of it alive.”

It’ll be hard. You’ll be gathered around by so many people, constantly reminding you that they are there whenever you need them, and asking you to keep telling them what’s going inside your mind. But you won’t be able to because this is a phase when you’ll be struggling to understand what you feel and what you are. Inside your room, the lights will be switched on, their beam will cast your shadow on the wall behind you but yet all you’ll see will be the dark clouds, spread over your life like a shroud that covers the dead, the lifeless. And at that very moment, the people and the things will seem so immaterial, so worthless. 

We may not even realise when we’ve entered in that very phase of depression. Amidst all these thoughts, the only thought that’ll conquer all the others would be of self harm. Reason, rationality would wither because every dimension that we see this phase through will try to reveal to us that every problem that we face today is because we still have air going inside our lungs, that we are still alive, that we still have a life.

But before you do anything, remember, your scars are not poetic. Your wounds are not beautiful, not until you fight the one who gave you those and come out alive, stronger. Your life is a gift that many still crave for, in heaven and in hell. Your tears won’t create rivers so significant to mankind if you do not know how to make them your history. You are a warrior with a sword called life. You may lose games, and still win consolation prizes, but this my dear, is life where either you win or lose it all. The latter may be easier, but that is not why you were brought to life. You were born to win.

Rebirth.

One morning you just wake up, and surprisingly everything just seems different. You do not check your phone for messages. You do not complain to God. Your heart doesn’t seem to burn. Your lungs feel less toxicated and breathing seems a lot easier. You realise that the void that you felt is not there anymore. It’s filled with some energy, some powerful force brought by the fresh air around. You do not stop feeling, but you start feeling different, a difference that feels worth exploring and understanding. It feels like it doesn’t matter anymore. The cries, the restless nights, the long messages that you sent, the desperation, all just seem so futile. And this time you do not regret things, but giggle and laugh the memories off. 

The water level has risen to such an extent that it broke all barriers, washed everything that came into its way, and this water is now unstoppable. This water is going to quench the thirst of millions. This water wasn’t made to be stored in a dam bounded by cemented walls, allowed to flow only on someone’s wish. It was meant to enrich every place it could reach to. It was meant to be much more than what it was, it was meant to be a life saver, it was meant to go where it belonged to.

And then you know, it’s over with him, that you are done with compromises, sadness and tears, that you do not have to mould yourself according to an edifice that changes its shape whenever you try to fit in. Because your purpose in life is much bigger, much better. You do not belong to one person, you belong to the world and everyone, because you have the capability to make changes in lives. Your life isn’t confined to a bedroom with walls painted black in disguise, but your life is the fields where flowers bloom and sunlight dances. 

And this is a new birth, and a journey to being a person that you’ve always deserved to become.

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\\ Not a traveller in disguise \\

I am slithering over the fences that bound me. I am scared to take the first step as I may land into a pit and then there’s no life saver around nor a way to return but I am determined, because where do I return if I want to? I’ve lived at a place full of people for so many years and yet it feels so foreign, so unknown, so unacquainted. I don’t belong here. I don’t know which place I’ll go to. I haven’t really decided on it. I don’t know what my destination is, but maybe I’m better off without having one. I don’t want to be a traveller in disguise, because I’ve been born into it and with the ability of hearing the call of the roads. I have no shame and I need no acceptance, nor do I need a baggage full of things, as my necessities have always been the woods, sky and the never ending trails in them, waiting for my footprints to be left on them. I won’t take with me, any food or water, because I was born to wander. I was born to live life in a way which people call ‘to survive’. 

I was born to feel like home in places I’ve never visited.

I’ll fall in love with a writer.

I’l fall in love with a writer. 

Because his words would be able to bring life to the lifeless. He won’t just see things but feel them. He wouldn’t see black as dark but poetic. He wouldn’t see the sky like a cluster of clouds above us but as a part of some other universe that exists parallel to this one. He’ll know what I want before I want it, because he’ll know every dimension of me, the bitter and the sweet, the stormy and the calm, that too better than anyone else could have known. He won’t just touch my hands, face or body but he’ll touch my soul and leave his imprint on it forever. He’ll have a way with words, and just somehow ordinary things would seem celestial when he’ll write them. He’ll know how to deal with emotions. He’ll let my happiness and pain seep inside me because he’ll know that it’s important to feel both. He’ll know that expression of feelings can do wonders and that’s why he’ll be able to express it all, anger, disgust, happiness, love, frustation either through words he’ll speak or through the poetry he’ll write. He’ll have a different way of making me feel special. He’ll not speak much in front of everybody else. People may consider him an introvert or even mysterious, but at the end of the day, when there’s nobody around he’ll let me turn the pages of his life which nobody else is allowed to. I’ll be his confidante and favourite reader. And whenever we’ll sit together, he may not look me in the eye or may not speak much, but silence would become the language we’ll love conversing in.


I’ll fall in love with a writer because writers do not just fall in love, they drown in it, they create their own worlds in it and they do things that are extraordinary to us but ordinary to them. 

And when I do fall in love with a writer, I’ll own pages of his book and he’ll own a part of me. And it won’t matter if we are together or not. Our love story would forever be alive in his words and that would just be enough.