Sleepless

She tossed uneasily in a restless slumber. Each night she retired to bed wondering what exhausted her more – the nightmares that did not let her sleep soundly, or the nightmarish reality she found herself living every morning? Perhaps, this whole life had been one big mistake.

“If you wish to call it that, at least acknowledge it as a beautiful mistake,” he said.

Her eyelids rolled upwards, and then she rolled them back in – she really was in no mood to open her eyes. “When did you come?” she asked. “I’ve missed you; you know!”
He looked at her serene face that now showed the hint of a faint smile. “I’m right here. Why don’t you just open your eyes.”
She felt him crawl into bed and settling down beside her. “I’ve really missed this,” she sighed as she allowed herself to be spooned. It had been a tiring day, but she knew that he already knew that. He always knew everything. And he always accused her of the same.

She allowed her mind to travel back to the time of their parting. He was the wanderer on a mission to discover new lands. She was the North Star meant to stay fixed. Even if it was in a sky of chaos and muddle. It hadn’t taken him long to realize that no matter how far he went, his compass always pointed in her direction. She was still the point around which his whole world turned. Yet she knew she had to push him away. He was meant for greater things. She too had a different purpose. “It won’t matter,” she had said. “Life’s short, and we’re only here for a brief period of time. Let’s just live our purpose, collect these experiences, and meet on the other side?” It had seemed to be the most sensible thing to do at that time.

As she snuggled up to him, she mumbled, “I wish you were really here. Things are just so easy when you’re around. When I’m lying next to you, in your arms, time seems to have come to a standstill. There really is nothing more I find myself desiring out of this life.”
“I needed this too,” he said, gently kissing her forehead. “You’re my favourite place to go to when my mind needs peace.”

Dreaming of being in the other’s arms, both had a good night’s sleep after ages. The nomad in him wondered how the cosmos managed to travel the world every single minute, every nano-second, every single day. What from him had travelled through into her world even after he’d left? And what part of her had still not left his side? Did anyone ever really leave? Was there any place in the Universe where they could just park themselves forever? Did such a place even exist?

“Not yet,” smiled the Devil. “And, perhaps, never,” and once again, sucked them into the world of nightmares. But it didn’t really matter anymore. 

“Everything is an illusion,” her voice served as a reminder calling out to him even amidst those nightmares.
“And that’s no excuse to not experience everything,” he chuckled and dozed off thinking of her – his favourite illusion.

Universal Dilemmas

The stars burned like the memories of brighter days, light years away from when I now drive past in my car. Do they represent a map of beautiful moments from my past or a future without? A dilemma perpetually stands before us in the guise of two roads not taken - a divaricate, bi-forked future, an only-seemingly simply choice that keeps us up days and nights. Do we let go of our pasts or hold on to it and make peace with the future? Or do we hold on to both with what is left of a thin string, frayed at both ends?

None of us have the capacity to wait in the anticipation. The stars have seen what is yet to happen and we cannot. These trials and tribulations in life make us and break us. We have no choice but to talk to the moon on our many solitary nights together, as we take the walk and pause before the roads in front of us and take none.

We live lives riddled with dilemmas, problems, and sorrow. And whom do we blame for these dilemmas that span space and time?
The Universe, right?
We blame the indefinable Universe. Could we ever possibly define the same? What really is the Universe, and what is Life?

What is the Universe but a swirling eddy of moments and people lost forever in the blink of an eye?
Gone.

What is the Universe but a vast sandbox surviving because of the entropy of dancing sand particles?
We’re dust to dust, them and us; chaotic, but in peace.

What is Life but an archaic spider-web perfectly spun in the riddled lace and taffeta of punch drunk love?

Oh, Life. It hangs on by a thin, thin thread, trying to stitch up the cuts that time made on its arms.

What is the Sunshine but a handprint on our hearts?
What is the Rain but these very crocheted hearts coming apart?

The thread lies not in the hands of the puppeteer, or maybe so. Break free. The loose ends of the life you spun are to be rewritten by you. We thread life up and reel it in.

What is a Story but a beautiful lie; a horrific truth; a beginning, middle and an end to the secret garden, stolen books, and arcane memories?
Volatile, yet liberating, eccentric, but a thrill like no other.

What is Nature but poetry in motion?

The lightning, in its very psychedelic nature, sets fire to the menacing thunderstorm and blossoms into the bloom of spring,

What is Luck but an unanswered wish for fortuitousness originating from the depths of our unfathomable minds?
Poor Luck - always blamed for us getting lost in this dazzling maze of life, building living graves for our hollowed out corpses.

What is the Universe but a treasure hunt for a treasure that’s already yours?
Peter Pan searched not-too-far; the ticking crocodile still awaits Captain Hook.

What is the Universe but sheer indefinable beauty in all its mosaic jigsaw puzzle glory?
It may be incomplete and broken, but it is beautiful and unimaginably perfect.

What is the Universe but You?

A New Tomorrow

She looks so calm and composed while others around her bustle like crazy, headless chickens, as if there’s nothing in the world that could possibly ruffle her feathers. A bubble of happiness, making everyone feel that there’s nothing happening in their world that cannot be solved, he thinks he knows everything there is to know about her from the very moment he set his eyes on her, but everything he thinks he knows is incorrect.

Chattering nineteen to the dozen, she raises her brows and stares into the distance, only for a moment, but the mask slips and he notices. Once again, like an old video cassette, flashes of his past start playing in front of him in reverse mode, and finally some things start making sense – as if suddenly the missing pieces of his jigsaw puzzle had unravelled themselves before him, and he actually knows now where those pieces fit.

In that moment, in her, he sees himself again, and only remembers the bygone days…What he was, who he wanted to be, and how passionate he had been about fulfilling his purpose. Unfortunately, life got in the way. He sat in silence, contemplating about all that had happened, moving within as diverse thoughts and ideas filled his head to the brim, probing through the good and bad memories of his life that was now coloured with each and every experience that he’d had.

He stares at her and realizes that she has gone back to wearing her mask. But he just cannot do that anymore. Nor will he let her do that anymore. And as he arrives at that decision, with her, his tomorrows begin. 

13 Reasons Why Not

To you who felt that the screams of your pain remained unheard,

And to you who needed a corpse to remember that you’re still alive,

Welcome to your tape…

Tape 1, Side A

I know life is not your favourite colour at the moment, and you are seeing everything in black and white, but honestly, even seeing things from just a black-and-white filter is better than being blind.

Personally, no colour will ever be brighter and purer than black and white. And black and white always merge to form shades of grey. It’s not easy recognizing people as warriors fighting a battle every single day, doing the best they can to not let their dark side overshadow their good, but everyone is a fighter. So are you! We’re all fighting battles every day. It’s alright if some days we don’t emerge as winners. Tomorrow we shall try again.

Tape 1, Side B

The world is not simple enough to just accommodate black, white and shades of grey. Everything began with a white palette and then you were handed the paint-brush. Even if you have lost sight of it, the paint-brush is still with you.

It’s still your life, your easel, your soul. Do it up with any and as many colours as you want! How you choose to paint your life is completely your choice!

Tape 2, Side A

Do you remember that clear night when you lay in bed and stared out of your window, gazing at the stars shining in the sky?  

Stars are nothing but carefully bandaged lights, aren’t they? Just mark all the memories that hurt you, so that they can become the stars that enchant you…

Tape 2, Side B

Stargazing in the city is a rare feat. Just paint your bedroom ceiling with the starry skies and the heavens above! You can then live under a dazzling sky every night.

Or just get out of your room and paint the town red. Red would suit the town more than your wrists, my love!

Tape 3, Side A

It’s alright to question. It’s alright to wonder. It’s okay to just talk. Shout if you must, scream if you need to, but please speak. I know you don’t want them to hear you, but there is always someone who’s ready to listen. There is always someone who’ll want to listen to you, not to a map of cassette tapes. You are more than a map of crisscrossed pain pathways. You are so much more than that!

Tape 3, Side B

I know you think that you are not enough. You feel you did not matter enough for them to save. No matter how hard you tried, you never were enough, even when you did your very best.

Guilt is not what you need to satiate, honey. You matter immensely. You are so much more than just ‘enough’.

Tape 4, Side A

We’ve all had some hot chocolate friends. And then there were the caffeine-addicts. You’ll also come across the white-collared whiskey-drinkers or the ones who are perennially on a juice-cleanse.

People come and go in pairs, threes, and fours, and so does pain. No one is meant to last forever. Even pain will not last forever.

Tape 4, Side B

Life is filled with joy and the chaos of happiness. Life is also sad from time to time. How else would we be able to appreciate the good times if we haven’t ever experienced anything bad?

Life’s a mixture of good and bad times. That’s just what life is. Life cannot be used as an excuse to not love yourself. Life cannot be used as an excuse to just give up.

Tape 5, Side A

Life is like a novel with many chapters. Some good, some bad. There are some great stories in the book of your life. Your laughter is like music to the ears, every time you speak, it’s like poetry oozing out of your mouth, your entire mind is a museum and every thought of yours is a work of art.

If only you saw yourself through my eyes…

Tape 5, Side B

You are so beautiful! Crimson love is present in your blood, and it is love that flows through your veins, making you the most loving person in the entire universe.

Your beautiful heart is like the crown jewel of your entire being treating everyone it meets with compassion and care. If only you could treat yourself with the same amount of love that you bestow on others…

Tape 6, Side A

You are like light. If you didn’t glow, darkness would engulf all in its path and instruct many to just live half-hearted lives.

Without your shine, they would be comatose; just lost in a world of life, a living grave of their childhood hopes and dreams. You are the light they need to let the night turn into day.

Tape 6, Side B

You are the light synonymous with life. It would be a shame if you would not love yourself for shining bright.

Go ahead. Radiate. You are not meant to burn.

Tape 7, Side A

You are meant to live another day, my dear light. I see you wandering at night staring at the stars. There is an unknown puzzle that you seek to solve, a journey that you hope to sight…Hiding from the day-star and only conversing with the moonlight, why do you not wait for dawn to arrive?

Let the Sun be proud of its progeny, after all?

Love,

Someone who genuinely believes you’re worth it. 

The Devastation

Do you remember the last time when you felt completely devastated? Last night? Or today at the breakfast-table? Or maybe during the last flight home? Did you feel like a colossal mess? Did you feel like killing yourself? Did you want to just fall asleep and never wake up?

I guess it happens to everyone. I know it happens to me, so I am sure it must be happening to you as well. Please don’t make me feel alone by letting me believe that I am the only one who goes through this…It’s alright. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.

We all die a little every day – you’ll realize that when you walk into a corporate office and see people who, as kids, dreamed of being astronauts, writers and musicians are stuck in the monotonous, boring 9 to 5 jobs. We all kill a little every day; and sometimes we just assist others in the killing process. How many times have you crushed the dreams of your loved ones by telling them they are unachievable just because you meant well, and wanted to save them from failure? It’s alright. Don’t feel guilty about being a killer, and don’t feel hurt because you’ve been a victim. Dying is an indispensable part of life, as is causing death.

Just go for it. Buy that dress even if it shows your less flattering curves. So what if you feel that you look ugly just because you have those few extra pounds? Go finish that half-read novel. So what if you get dark circles? Go order the extra toppings on your pizza. So what if you’re broke? Go sing that song aloud. So what if you’ve got a terrible voice? Because what if that part of you that’s living today dies tomorrow?

Today was a bad day. But tomorrow will be better. How do I know? Because I like to believe that whatever happens, happens for a reason. And things will be the way they are meant to be. Go cry your heart out. No one is judging you. Or maybe they are, but do their judgments really matter? You know they don’t! Go send that reckless text. No one’s stopping you. It may all be for nothing, but at least you got what you needed to out of your system. Go walk that extra mile because you are only what you think of yourself to be. Don’t let others’ opinions of you stop you from advancing towards your goals.

So, when was the last time you felt completely devastated? Today? Yesterday? During that last conversation? It doesn’t matter. You’re going to feel devastated yet again. There are so many times when I’ve felt that things could not get any worse, but they actually have! And, I also remember times when I thought the future was absolutely bleak and hopeless, but things suddenly changed for the better. You’re going to die yet again. You’re going to kill yet again. Some dreams need to die, and all wishes need not come true. Some experiences will force you to kill certain bits of you, but never kill the parts of you that you cannot live without. Devastated is beautiful; because the last time I checked, broken crayons still colour. 

Pieces

She sits down on the floor and makes no move. She sits and does nothing. She knows she wants to think, but she just can’t. She has been paralyzed, but with what?  The blade goes back and forth, back and forth. Back and forth, it makes a sound, almost like some melody. It hurts. It pains and pains. It pains a lot. She smiles. She keeps feeling the pain, and the pain keeps intensifying. She laughs.

Her entire room is dark. She has been sitting down far too long. Today’s the day, she decides. She thinks that this is it. Today is the day. And then, it suddenly stops. No more sound, no more melody. There is red around her…Staining red…But she is still able to get up. Her wrist oozes the most stunning vibrant red, but it’s nothing that can’t be fixed. Turns out today wasn’t the day after all…

She gets up from the floor as the sunlight falls on her face almost mocking her existence. With a smile, she covers her face, and with a long-sleeved kurta, her scars and steps out to brave yet another day.

There’s something about her, something that’s strange, and something that’s unique. She does not appear broken, but he can hear the shrill cries inside her. She seems strong, she seems happy, but he can see the numbness in her eyes, and hear the pain in her voice. She’s probably made a deal with her demons, and yes, they have left her alone, but he realizes they took something with them in exchange – a part of her soul. Each time, she feels love, the crater in her soul longs to be filled.

Nobody ever sees her for what she is. No one misses a part of her. But, there are times, when she does miss some old part of herself. He notices her looking around for pieces. He wishes he could paste them back. Tiny pieces that may seem insignificant to the world, but they still belong to her, and she wants them because they are hers to take back, hers to place back. There are moments when she stands to search for them and place them back, and then the reality hits her, and it hits him too with harder force. He can see the pain behind those gorgeous eyes of hers. He wants to be there to fill in the blank spaces that she leaves behind every time she walks. He wants to be the shine of her eyes, the strength of her voice, and the reason for her happiness.

He wants her to feel loved, to feel happy from within, and become the symbol of hope and tranquillity that she is capable of becoming. He sees her for what she is – someone born to lead, not to lurk in the shadows. She is a being of purity and integrity.

He knows that she can cradle the existence of this small world of theirs one day, but today, he lets himself be consumed to bring light upon her so that she herself is able to shine one day. He knows that by doing so, he’ll be losing a part of himself, but for her, it will be totally worth it. 

A Note From The Rain

 This is for anyone who feels like continuing to hold on to something that Life wants them to let go of.

Hello!

When you want to hold on to your dream or a love for anything, and you feel like the whole world wants you to walk away from it, but you want to stay, I know how it feels. And I think everyone does…

I know you feel like the X that you drew on a map so many years ago seems further than ever…I know you feel like you cannot appreciate yourself no matter how hard you try because no matter how much effort you put in, they never seem enough…I know all these things because I recognize that look in your eyes – the look of tamed frustration of holding on to something that does not want to be held on to…I too understand what it feels like to burn with the fiery desires that one has the capability to possess and get burnt...I too understand what it feels like to have that heart made of fire-wood have its flames doused by the sudden shower of rain. I too have many questions, doubts and uncertainties. Questions that seemingly have no answer, doubts that want to pull at your strings of hope until they snap, and uncertainties that wish you would move on to something more stable.

You are not alone. And together, you and I, may have a solution; we may revel in entropic peace. Bear with me, the rain falls through my heart too, and I am simply trying to stop it from crumbling.

I feel it is the literal rain, an accompaniment to the drizzle of ideas and the hurricane of emotions that always makes melancholy more poetic than it actually is. Or, maybe, it’s because when life pulls the trigger, it is your own tears that comprise the rain that falls as dead bullets. That is not terribly surprising for the Universe thrives on War, and Life just so happens to be your personalised battle-field. In many ways, you have known all this time that a white murder was not too far along. The death of a dream you dreamed, a love you loved, a wish you wished or a belief you believed. Loss in any form is agonizing. That is where the rain comes handy. According to me, it gives the most beautiful explanation of this particular situation where you can feel yourself break; but it is not a clean break, it is not a clean fracture…It’s louder. It is the sound of rain in the most powerful thunderstorm you’ve been trapped in. Thousands of raindrops on roses, but they resemble thorns. Oh and the rain is strong; the drops relentlessly hit you, and the feeling is devastating. They shatter a part of you into billions of tiny pieces that you cannot put back together by yourself.

I know you wish things were different. Everyone does. But you have to be strong and you have to keep holding on, if it’s what you believe in. Hold on, despite the pain that comes from the ropes cutting into your skin. Hold on, in spite of the storm tearing at the billowing sails of your ship. Hold on, without a care for what the world has to say to you because that’s the kind of person you are. You drew the world around yourself because you believed in it. And you cannot let ‘Life’ tear you apart. Hold on not for the insecurities you have of the implications, hold on for the connection you possess with your dream. Hold on, not for false hope, hold on for true love. Hold on because you know of nothing else but holding on until you change Life’s mind. It is possible and it’s not. We have to be open to all possibilities. But, hope is never lost. Hold on to it. Hold on to yourself.

If you have to let go of something, let go of the questions. One day, they shall be answered. Let go of doubts. Your doubts can someday be rectified. Don’t doubt yourself, your fire shall burn again if you let hope fuel it. I know it’s hard right now, but in case things don’t work out, I promise that uncertainty can be made certain. You may have to live with the pain for a while, but wear it proudly. It simply makes you more human. Let go of the despair and remind yourself to love and love and love yourself. Hold on to the power of your heart, and feel it beat not just for itself, but for the love of your dream. Hold on to that. That’s all that matters.

Try to let yourself smile a little when it rains.

Love,

Someone who knows exactly how it feels.

Let There Be Light

Suzanne Collins may be widely known for the Hunger Games trilogy, but years before she became popular, I remember being a fan of another series written by her - the Underland Chronicles. And I really liked the series! Now, in the Underland, a world within our world (or rather below it, to be precise), the word “light” is synonymous with the word “life.” This was years ago, but the only reason I mention this reminiscence is because I have only lately realized that for the current optimist in me, this was one of the earlier forms of positive reinforcement I encountered. In the words of Stephen Hawking, “However bad life may seem, where there is life, there is hope.”

So the formula goes:
Life = Light
Life = Hope
Light = Hope

Ever since we slid out of that primordial slime, our unifying cry has been for more light. Light in so many different forms – sunlight, torch-light, candle-light, neon, incandescent lights that banish the darkness from our caves to illuminate our roads, and the insides of our refrigerators. Big floods for the night match at Eden Gardens. Little tiny flash-lights for those books we read under the covers when we’re actually supposed to be fast asleep. Light is more than watts and foot-candles.

Light is a metaphor. Light stands for knowledge, light is life, light is light…

When we were children, we were afraid of the dark at some point or the other. While psychologists believe fear of darkness is not a natural fear (after all, we live in dark wombs from the time of conception to birth), it is still a very valid fear – darkness stands for the unknown. It stands for oblivion. Time passes and we are no more children. We grow up. Monsters under our bed turn into monsters in our heads. Perhaps that is why, more times than often – we are afraid of the light. And what could be sadder? We are always on this never-ending pursuit of happiness, yet we keep finding reasons to lose our way. Hope is everything. Hope is the light that guides us home, to happiness.

Hope is being able to see that light despite the despair and darkness. Yet we still fear the uncertain, the unknown. Earlier, we feared the darkness, and as we grow old, many of us start fearing the light. It’s hard to say which fear is worse – a child’s fear of the dark, or an adult’s fear of the light? Or perhaps, both are just the same. Nevertheless, what’s important is that we move past these fears. Yet we seem unable to do that. Why?

In Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Dumbledore had said, and I quote, “Happiness could be found in the darkest of times, if only one remembers to turn on the light.”
This thought is iterated and reiterated throughout the series. Let’s take Ron Weasley and the Deluminator as an example - the Deluminator did not just turn off the lights, it was a beacon of hope. The light showed him the way; like a lighthouse would to a ship on a stormy night lost at sea, or a lantern to a passerby on a foggy evening. The main point I am trying to make here is that Ron Weasley was not afraid to let the light show him the way. For anyone who wonders why light symbolizes hope, this would make perfect sense…
Because light is what we wake up to every single day – to sunlight and a new beginning. It has been said that with the flight of the morning, through a heart of darkness shall always emerge the light.

If there is only one lesson to be learnt from a lifetime on this planet – I feel it would be this: light shall always trump darkness. I see it as a universal truth, if you may. A single candle is illumination enough to show you the way. Hope. Hope could mean the “light at the end of the tunnel”, hope could refer to a “driving force”, but hope is a matter of perspective. I like to believe that hope is everything. Lumos > Nox. Where there is life, there is light.

“For, the world may be broken but hope is not crazy!”
- John Green

Goodbye 2016!

It’s the last few days of the year. Goodbye, 2016. Finally, this year has come to an end – a year that was a total roller-coaster ride in terms of emotions, memories, and achievements. In hindsight, it was just like any other year I suppose. Some part of me is glad it’s coming to a close, a part of me is not (I mean what do I do if the coming year turns out to be worse than this one!). Excuse my cynicism, it’s a side-effect of ageing. To be honest, cynicism is nothing other than disappointed idealism; something I realized the other day when my best friend was trying to drill in my head that a few bad days do not account for an entire bad year. To be entirely honest, it has been a good year – a year full of lessons and clichéd inner awakenings that are again a part of the natural growing-up process.

It’s weird looking back at who I started 2016 with, and who I’m ending 2016 with…Who I was a year ago, and who I am right now. I am a much happier person today than I was at that moment. I may not have changed for the better, but I’ve definitely changed for good. I feel closer to my companions, I feel more at home than I’ve ever been. 2016 has been a whirlwind of change, yet I still feel centered. This brings me to what I wanted to talk about – change (what they say is the only constant in life!). We love it, we hate it, but in the end, we just have to deal with it because there is nothing else we can really do about it. People change, ideas change, situations change, and before you know it, the year ends and you are a completely different person – or, perhaps, as I’d like to believe, a newer, improved version of yourself.

Reality is subjective, but 2016 has made me aware, to some extent, of what is real and true; and as I’ve allowed myself to be awakened to my feeling of being, I realize that it was everything that I already knew. I am what I am trying to become and achieve. I do not become loving, I am love. I do not become sincere, I am sincerity, and so on. So yes, that’s it. The ocean persists, waves come and go. You are the entire ocean in a single drop and not a single drop in the ocean. Life happens. Moments come and go. Just seize every moment.

I’ve noticed people getting annoyed at my optimism. Few have managed to muster courage and ask why I am happy all the time. There are many who claim they can never imagine me being sad. I just feel that people fail to understand – I am not happy all the time, and I can be sad too – last year, was particularly hard for me, and there have been moments where I’ve been in the depths of despair. But, I feel that if there could be an accurate measurement – life would actually be finite suffering and infinite hope. For me, what I learnt in 2016 was that being negative is a sure-shot guarantee for ruining things. Being positive, on the other hand, might just make a difference…or it might not. But I am willing to take that risk. Hope…Hope is everything. If you haven’t found it, keep looking. I hope you will find what you are looking for, the coming year.

The most important lesson I have learnt in 2016 is that you should just seize the moment and tell people how important they are to you. Not because they could leave at any moment or because they could return to you, but because they matter and it’s worth saying something. Parting ways with people forever is easy, but when you find someone you want to keep around, you should do something about it. You get 31,536,000 seconds in a year. Have you used at least one of them to tell someone they mean a lot to you? I did in 2016.

I could go on and on and on. The memories and lessons, good or bad, have been countless and unforgettable. You survived. So did I. And now, we’ve stumbled onto another blank canvas. Paint a masterpiece. Write a bestselling novel. Contribute to humanity in any way you can. I’ve learnt a lot the past year, including the fact that you are only as insignificant and irrelevant s you convince yourself to be. It’s not wrong to be upset or sad or cynical as long as you can shake it off and let go. Letting go was a particularly difficult lesson to master for me, and it’s a lesson that still needs to be fully learnt. Another lesson – it’s not weak to be afraid or sad, it’s human; and actually a tiny reminder that you have something to lose, and gratitude is the way to go.

Take a breath and pause. Reflect on the year gone by. Hold precious memories close. Forgive. Let go. Believe in second chances. Love and be loved. That’s what New Year is all about. It’s time to make a new start and let go of the past– just take some moments to say that final good-bye. 

Interstellar

He stared at his fellow-star tenant, and thanked her for the adventure. Space and time had fought, resulting in a break in the continuum.

The shooting star he had wished upon was already dead. He’d believed her to be infinite, but at that moment, she felt empty…As empty as the vacuum that had existed in her heart when they kept taking pieces of her and she let them. He wondered if there was any word for that.

She often accused him of acting like a storm that often came unannounced and left after uprooting her from her being. He did not dismiss that particular allegation – he was human, and storms are, anyway, named after people; nebulae are not. She was made of stardust – they’d crushed her and she’d let them. She was now going to become a star, because that is how stars are born: they crumble, collapse, burn and then finally glow. As a child, he’d stared at the twinkling stars in the sky and wished upon them, but ever since he met her, the twinkle in her eyes was all that he’d needed. Was there a word for that?

She’d wished for something that had destroyed her. Her love for him had moulded her, but, ultimately, what she’d been able to sacrifice had defined her. He couldn’t come up with a word for that.

He’d always loved metaphors even though he had a hard time coming up with original ones by himself. Yet, life had given him the biggest metaphor in her form. Together, they’d embarked on an interstellar adventure, and in the name of allies, all they had were time pirates! Unfortunately, time had always been relative…Two years, two months, two weeks, two souls who kept responding to the hurt that was taken from them. What words could he use to define that? Time was relative, yes; but the hurts were subjective. Love had managed to transform them, and though it was always transcendent, their love had never been quantifiable.

He knew she was probably laughing upon hearing of his cosmic dilemmas. To her, nothing was complicated. Love was nothing but a fleeting glimpse of eternity that would last forever; love had always been free falling, space racing, never running-away but more of a running-towards. Love was nothing other than the North Star which one could always gravitate back to.

She wanted to return home to the star they came from. He used to call them “star tenants” because he believed they’d shared the same origin star. They’d embarked on the same voyage light years ago, but their pathways had been different. However, different star trails from the same star could only stay apart for so long until parallel lines and intersecting lines lost their meaning. The heart did not know of time, space, distance or choice. Heart-strings unravelled in the same way as did the fabric of the universe – there was a break in the continuum, and in their case it was a paradox of love called love.

He used to believe that a black hole is a passage through space and time. She wished he’d understand that time always stood still, making darkness perhaps the perfect place to love somebody. He did not realize that black holes were hugely dense objects, with an inescapable gravitational pull. When he’d fall, he’d fall forever. Forever. It meant there was no way out. She wished he’d allow himself to succumb to the vulnerability, to the fall…Only if he fell, could she catch him. She wished he’d allow midnight to become the easel he’d aligned his stars on – to write of his future infinitely, just like the artist and writer he was. He needed to reel himself back in; he needed to realize that the pursuit of happiness is nothing but a secret locked for safekeeping with the diamonds in the sky.

Space and time had had a fight, resulting in a break in the continuum. There was a break in the opposite end of the spectrum. What he’d believed to be infinite had become unwritten…Unwritten like the rest of his life before him. He wondered if there was a word for that. He realized that, indeed, there was a word for that! It was nothing but love. As he stared above, there it was! Against the dark sky, he saw a ray, an age-old ballad – of science and faith, love and hope. He saw white light - a million colours that briefly splattered across the easel, an aurora lasting all of eternity. He knew it was her light and in his heart, he preserved it and cherished it while it lasted. Finally, he no longer saw a black hole as a dead end anymore.

The Arrival

She could not believe her eyes as she saw the sight that lay in front of her. Finally, someone had tried flashing a torch and attempted to alleviate the darkness that had become a constant feature of her world. Suddenly, she felt as if her light had returned, and slitting the throats of her dumb tunnels, finally, she found her voice back, tearing through the vast emptiness of her long-neglected vocal cords.

Her beloved had finally come her way, and she found herself overcome with desire yet again. The yearnings brimmed inside her like the splattered paints on an artist’s palette that remind one of the uncontrollable and inconsolable passion he has for the colours he imagines in his mind. But wasn’t it now a little too late? Her branch of time hardly had any leaves left, and despite being so close to love, there was still no way for her to experience it to the fullest.

He understood her dilemma. He had been wandering for days with memories of her still lingering, and he knew that despite being away, he was still loved. He realized how, blinded by the chase to success, he had failed to sufficiently reciprocate the love that came his way.  He knew that he was late, but he had returned at last. He wished now for her to come to him, as with each kiss of hers, he fell asleep, and as she tried to overcome the trysts of life and death, he wished to wake up as she shone her light of dawn.

Time was definitely not on their side. There wasn’t enough time to listen to his small broken tales of camaraderie, but his return had finally pacified her lifelong frustration. No matter how late it was, no matter in which condition they both were, they were both together, they were both finally “home”. This final meeting seemed like a fun, topsy-turvy merry-go-round ride that completely overshadowed the tiny, dancing fireflies who stirred up fun, happy memories. The purpose of her life had been to meet her beloved, and once again, as she looked into his eyes, she saw herself, and realized that she had found her God. 

One life-time is never enough to accomplish all unattained desires. They still had to make several journeys together. But for now she knew, as she closed her eyes to rest, there was no next time.... 

The Call

It had been a long time since their last meeting. Every time, she missed him, she stared at the sky. After all, no matter where they were, they were all under the same sky; and they both fell asleep wishing under the same stars under the same sky they shared. People always told her that time is a wonderful healer, but she had seen how time had destroyed them – perhaps, it was too late for them to be able to salvage their situation. Time could heal, time could rip a person into pieces. But, time could not change the story. Ever since he had left, she found herself constantly swimming between two waves – the flood of letting in, and the torrent of letting go. Sometimes, she felt so frustrated that she thought it was time to just leave and turn to dust. If the essence of her life was leaving him, she wondered if she could just walk down the old path one last time, gather everything that she wanted and re-paint the entire road red. She missed the lazy evenings they spent together and wished she could just go back to simpler times. She knew there was still a chance – albeit a teeny tiny one – but she was not sure she wanted to take it. It required a lot of effort, and she wasn’t sure she could invest so much again. Besides, only a miracle could really save them, and she did not believe in miracles.

As he waited for his train to arrive, he remembered the first time he had met her. The swarm of people rushing to enter the train while she was attempting to get out had scared her. As soon as she saw him at the platform, she just rushed into his arms, and the world around seemed to have come to a stand-still. The way she’d held on to him made him feel incredible and uniquely warm. He wondered if she had ever been horrified the way she’d been that day. It isn’t everyone’s cup of tea to endure the journey on Mumbai local-trains during peak-hours, and that had been her first time. In that moment, all she’d needed was a whisper and a hug. He hadn’t quite known what to do, but on that day, she’d made it clear that trust had no faces, only promises, and her vulnerability had involuntarily made him promise that he would protect her. She was the first person from whom he learnt that the world deserves to be loved; even by broken people, like her and him. As he thought of her, he realized that what they shared was beautiful, even though it had been dead for some years. Had it really been that long, or it just felt that way because time only seemed to fly when she was by his side chattering away to glory? He realized that the night did not always need to be dark and cloudy; light always shone to drive the darkness away. After all, they lived on a blue planet that circled around a raging ball of fire, next to a moon that moved the sea – who was to say that miracles don’t happen?

The time had come for change. It was time to recover the good parts of their life. Happiness was now just a phone call away, and this time he did not hesitate as he pulled out his mobile-phone and dialled her number. 

The Battle Of The Egos

He woke up early in the morning, before the sun got an opportunity to set his skin on fire, and went for a run. He enjoyed running. One day, he hoped to be able to race fast enough to finish life’s race. As soon as this thought crossed his mind, he stopped on his tracks abruptly. Why was he suddenly so interested in rushing through life instead of savouring every moment? He had never harboured any delusions of an easy life, but why was he choosing to run away from problems instead of attempting to solve them?
Deep down, he knew the answer. She had been his “problem-fixer”. All he had to do was tell her about what was bothering him, and she’d take care of everything. She had a knack for making all his troubles and worries magically disappear. But where was she now? He had no idea.
He wondered if he should send her a message. He was affirmative that she would reply. But then, he wondered, should he tell her about what was on his mind? Would she think he was only trying to reconnect because he needed her? He couldn’t just pick up the phone and tell that he missed her. Expressing feelings were her department, as was intuitively understanding what he was feeling even when he did not say a word. He had even stopped cyber-stalking her months ago. It was too painful seeing her constant updates with people who had once been ‘nobodies’. Even though she frequented places which were a stone’s throw away from his habitat, it bothered him that she never made any plans with him. She had always taken the initiative. Why should it be any different now?
He thought it best to keep his feelings to himself. Dismissing all thoughts about her, once again he began sprinting across the blocked paver.  

The never ending stretch of the sandy seashore seemed to confuse her way. The beach had become her new home, yet she was not able to decide how she felt about it. She’d been feeling this way for quite some time now. Since the last one year, she’d been tossing between choices, cities, and voices, and she could not remember the last time when she had felt like her old self.
Her old self always had a smile on the face, didn’t hesitate before greeting strangers with open arms, and always remained in a positive frame of mind. Where had this old self disappeared? Why did she feel so uprooted?
She’d always been a traveller. Shuffling places was not new for her. In fact, she quite enjoyed that part of her life. Perhaps, the problem was that he was not there with her…
Even though they had never frequented places together, having him in her life made her feel like home. He was her home – the home where she felt comfortable, where she felt safe and sheltered and where she could be her genuine self. When things went awry, as they often did, his voice was all she longed to hear. Just like home is a place that’ll always be there, not for once had she imagined a situation where he would not be around. Before him, she unknotted her burdens and he held them for her so that she could walk out of the door without the weight of her problems bringing her down to her knees. Home is where the heart is, and her heart always remained tied to him, no matter how far she wandered away. Every time someone mentioned home, her mind always led her to him.
She longed to be home again. So many months had passed. Did she dare to pick up the phone and give him a call? What would she say? What if he didn’t answer? What if the call made her realize that the picture of the home she had painted was a mirage, and in reality, her home had been long wrecked? What would she do then? It was best to wait for him to make a call this time. After all, nothing was over until it was explicitly stated so.

The call never happened. The text remained unsent.
Both clutched to hope with one hand and prepared themselves for disappointment with the other.
Ego had won this battle. Would the heart still manage to win the war?

Anywhere

She walked aimlessly on the deserted road, not really knowing where she wanted to go. It started to drizzle, and she looked around hoping to take cover before the rains got worse. 

He saw her standing by a dilapidated ruin of what appeared to have once been a tea-stall. She looked haggled and tired, but her spirit did not seem beaten. “Can I take you somewhere?” he offered. “I have a bike.”

She smiled at him and wondered what to say. She could’ve asked him to take her home, but then she remembered that a storm had ravaged it. She wondered if he’d help her rebuild it, but it was too late for them to salvage it. 

“No, thanks,” she replied. “I’m just on this road, walking on.” 

“Where?” he prodded. 

“Away from the ruins, and hopefully, away from the storm.” 

Thunder rumbled and lightning struck. Without another word, she got on his bike and they rode along. 

“We’ll sleep anywhere we find shelter,” she suggested. “This storm is too strong!” 

“And finding shelter in this country-side is so rare. Do you know where shelter can be found?” he asked.

She just tossed her head and replied, “Anywhere.” 

They stumbled upon an old, shady-looking hotel, and it had a room to spare. 

As she was about to crawl into bed, she warned him, “I often get nightmares when I sleep, but I dare not ask for your care. That would be too much kindness, of which I’m very scared. In case I wake up and cry, please forgive me. I only cry for my home and everything that I could once call my own.”

She did not seem to realize that he was too baffled to respond. So, she continued to speak and he listened in silence, puzzling how from this situation he could abscond.     

She was murmuring to herself, “I told them to make the house stronger! I screamed for help! They paid no heed, and dismissed the need – it’s only a breeze, they said. Don’t worry unnecessarily. What is the need?

But it was a storm alright. The very worst of its kind. I kept trying to save them. I told them to stay strong! But they huffed and puffed on the side of the storm, and there was not much I could do alone. Now everything’s gone! Everyone blames the storm! We could have saved everything, but they still blame the storm!”

He looked at her deep-set eyes. “Is that why you are on the road, simply walking on?” 

“Well, walking isn’t all I do,” she laughed and pointed out, “I sometimes speak to strangers just as now I am speaking to you! But, generally I talk about the weather, because that’s what strangers do.”

He laughed at her statement and assured her, “Now and then, it’s alright to digress. Conversation, path, or both, briefly. I am in no rush, and neither are you. There’s nowhere you have to be, and there is nobody awaiting me.”

“I could go wherever I wanted to, except, of course, back in time,” she sighed. “But I am really tired now, tired of walking, of being, and tired of trying to rhyme.”

“Then let’s just lie here, do nothing, think nothing,” he suggested. “How does that sound?”

He took her silence to mean a ‘yes’ and continued talking along, “I want to look up to find a clear sky each day, and realize the universe is awesome.”

She smiled in surprise and shared, “I want to believe that karma is a sure thing. I want to believe that there is something out there that ensures that things go right. That there is a plan. I’m not on it yet, but I believe there is a plan. I might have lost my home, but I still have two legs. I can go anywhere, and I’ll go where there’s happiness.”

“And where is happiness?” he asked with a grin. 

She returned his grin with a twinkle and simply replied, “Anywhere.”

The Time-Turner

It was while cleaning her cupboard, one evening, that she found the old silver-band watch which she thought she had misplaced a couple of months ago. The glass was dusty, and the hands were not ticking. She laughed out loud at her discovery. She had not worn a watch in the last seven months. Somehow, it had not felt necessary.

What’s the point of finding the watch, she mused. It was more important for her to find time. These days she just did not have the time. She was busy at work, moving from one task to another at express speed. When she was home, she whiled away time by completing all the household chores, even things that could be put off for a later day. Her mother and close friends sometimes expressed concern and asked her to slow down, but she hadn’t paid much heed to their advice.

As she stared at the watch that she was dusting with a piece of cloth, she noticed yet another thing that was wrong with it. The date display still showed 10^th January, 2016 – that was almost seven months ago. What had she been doing seven months ago at this time? She remembered it so clearly, as if it had just happened the previous day…

Life had taken such a drastic turn in these seven months. Seven months ago, she’d have never anticipated her entire life revolving around work. She had always believed that work was something one had to do to ensure life could be lived with ease and comfort; now, work had become her life! If her existence could be equated with “living” that is. Was she happy? She cringed as she realized she could not answer this question honestly even to herself.

She knew it was time for change. She wasn’t one to live in denial for a long time. Her new journey had already begun, even though she was yet to take off. It wasn’t going to be easy for she was still muddling with the shadows of her past. However, the shadows did not cause her much distress. After all, there can be no shadow without light. They go wherever the light goes. They appear when the light appears. Somehow, this realization gave her a strange sort of comfort – it made her understand that she hadn’t completely plunged into the world of darkness. There was still a tiny ray of light – some hope – left for her.

She fastened the old watch to her wrist. The watch was old, the time was the same, but this journey would be a new one. With this time-turner, she had been gifted the opportunity of re-visiting the last few months of her life. Until she finished editing and re-writing the pages of her current life, time would have to remain at a stand-still. 

The Travellers

She was tired. No matter how hard she tried, he was everywhere. From the corner of signs, she could see him. Even though they kept telling her what to do next, she kept seeing him and nothing else. In the end, they just gave up. She wished they hadn’t. It was not like she was purposely ignoring their precious advice. They just did not get it.

He was her road. No matter where she was, and no matter where she wished to reach, he was the journey she would have to make in order to reach her destination. They kept telling her that many times the journey is the destination. So, did that make him her destination?

Sometimes, she tried changing her direction on the same path. She’d long realized that the path is not always a straight road, and, at times, it is easier to keep walking on the same path, exploring the different directions. But why was it that in each direction she only met him? Did he already know she was arriving? At some level, did he also believe that she was his path?

Once or twice, she stopped to wonder. Did he read her world in the same way as she read his? As he became a page-turner in her world, had she also become a bookmark in his? He still dwelled in her world, but was she also beginning to enter into the spaces between his stars? He read through the stories of light, and she read through those cracks, through which that light entered and shone.

Were they both travellers meant to keep stopping by in each other’s life? If that was indeed the case, did she have the courage or the will to wish herself and him a “Happy Journey” and meet one more time?

“On the map, it appears that I am going home. But the truth is that I’m only getting more and more lost,” he sighed.

“On the map, it seems that I’m already home. But the truth is that I’m lost with him on his road,” she realized.

The Twenty-Six Year Old Child

It was an orange scarf that hid in a corner of my cupboard and I never bothered giving it a second glance. I had never worn it, and would probably never use it, and so it lay tucked in its corner, bearing the burden of other clothes piled on top of it, almost forgotten. Until one fateful evening when my mother told me to give it away in order to clear some space. Despite the fact that it took her over half an hour to explain which scarf she was talking about, I put my foot down and refused to get rid of it. And so it stayed in my cupboard, and it still has never been used.

As I reflect on my behaviour, I know it is the kind that probably a four year old is more suited for, and I wonder what made me react in this strange possessive manner. It isn't just about the scarf but, in general, I am not someone who likes doing away with things. I have been this way since I was a child, and at twenty-six, I am not sure if I am any different.

I often wonder: do we really change with time? Do we actually grow up or are we the same people inside who would react to things the same way they'd do before if only they were given the space? As we start developing physically, our process of socialization ensures that we start reacting in ways that we are expected to, but do we really change as a person inside ourselves?

The process of growing up involves behaving in a way as expected by our peers, family members and significant others. So, we try hiding the green monster with a smile when we greet some people. We brush off our irresponsible side with finesse and each and every moment, we stand, all geared up to brave the big, fierce world. We try hard to fill the gap and be the person we are expected to be in order to match the image they have of us. But, somewhere inside, we still enjoy those small joys; we still like to do silly things; and some wishes that were once our dreams continue to haunt us.

Each one of us, according to me, is unique, and born with a different set of abilities, habits and desires. Rather than trying so hard to fit in with the rest, we should just own up to who we truly are and work towards achieving what we were born to do. If your first instinct as a child was to gather up some vessels and make music, chances are that it still is! Hence, this Children's Day, let us resolve to loosen up a bit, and be the person our inner voice has been screaming out to be. After all, we don't really "grow up", we just learn to hide ourselves better.

Happy Children's Day Everyone! Let Us Always Remember To Celebrate The Child In Each One Of Us!