The Silence of My Voice

 Sixth year. Last day. In all of the years of Blogmas, the second, and third year were wildly viewed by people. And, through the years, that number has slightly gone down. I didn't understand, or think too much into the relevance of it initially, because really, it was only my way of wrapping my year up in a bundle of words. I also assume that the numbers that reflect now are possibly the people who care about me, and whom I care about. And, that's more wildly important to me. I was having a conversation with my girlfriends recently, when one of them (read: Mon) said something relevant enough for a whole lot us to understand. We can't put in the effort of two people, just like we can't do the thinking of two people. All we can, and must manage should be within our bounds. Apart from you, no one can help you ensure that more, than the people who really want to be in your lives. It is, indeed, true that people who truly care, remember all details. And, I've been wonde...

 People are not statistics, or death rates. They're people; so help them. Music makes your day. Silence saves it. Respect is more important than any sort of love. Remember that. I talk really fast. And, I don't like it. Start with a plant. Just one. I promise, it'll change your life. It's vital to know if the guilt you're feeling is all your own, or being pressed upon you. Women are capable. Strong women are powerful. Hoping is what maintains you as a realist. I still regret not taking more pictures. Sometimes, some things seem too hard. Stop. Not everything requires your 100% I still have to learn when to give up. Wilting leaves of my plants break my heart Apologize only when you feel guilty. Otherwise you're only faffing. I know what I seek. I just can't trace the start point to it. I said last year you can never repay people for taking you as you come. Truth is, they don't need you to. If your questions are unanswered for too long, it's probably b...

 There will always be parts of you that are inexplicable, even for you. Though, it seems to matter more to us, than to other people. Try, and think of the moon's reflection in the sea. Rippled, broken, even when it's the moon itself compelling the tides; but somehow, gazing at it, no one doubts that it is, de facto, the moon. That's all of us, the moon in water.  For everyone else, we're simply the moon; whole, still round, still white - even when we keep disrupting, and getting unsettled by our own reflections. It's easy for us to oscillate between treasuring ourselves, or not. But, there is a difference between intelligence, and wisdom, and we need to use only one of them when it comes to how we deal with the daily encounters with ourselves. I know I've said this before, but we're kinder to people, than ourselves. And, that's a huge mistake because when I think back on the times I scalped myself over something unapt, it hurts now to know how hard I was...

 We all live our life with numerous fissures within us; some we've been existing with all this while, and some, made from our own misdemeanours. I feel, as humans, whatever we're foraging for is unto us to ensure it fills us in. Often, we commit a grave gaffe celebrating the encounter of only one of a million elements that we chase, and use it to try, and plug all our crevices. A lot of us are running on empty, most times. To shoulder the albatross, and to also drain something from the same tribulation, of providing all the puzzle pieces, is how we make ourselves, and others juice out. I find it quite flakey when people mention they have a certain set of hobbies, or none at all. I feel people adopting hobbies is their way to relentlessly keep giving themselves a chance to be out there just enough, to be able to get a glimpse of what they're seeking. It's a bleak chance, but one, anyway. Then there's the lot of us too fearful to do anything about it. We often throw o...

Five days to Christmas. I've felt, and expressed this earlier in one of the few Blogmases, for how fast it went. But, none of them have seemed to gone by as swiftly, as this one. There's something to be said about being engrossed all the time. This year has been a massive one-off for everyone in the world. I never would have imagined taking care of my life, home, and work the way I have been these past few months. I won't lie. Some days, it's hard; and, some, it feels like pure shit. I had to learn to turn my whole day, from the way I got up, to how I had retrain my mind to change its tune to the best time of the day. With a tonne of concessions in a lot of things in life, a lot of us barely felt much, apart from the frustration of lagging work, and house arrest. For an illimitable of us, the fate hadn't been so kind. Unemployment, sickness, death, starvation, homelessness. Imagine having a flat tire on your way to an important meeting, with no help around, resultin...

I found my time with myself over the years extremely edifying. Half-pint trips to cafes, the movies, the book shops, or even the local nursery lady for a cup of tea. Allowing yourself the time to cognize all that only merely floated through your mind amidst your dreadful industriousness tends make you feel freer, I feel. Of course, some esprit de corps is delightful, but once I started taking myself all over the city, I realised I wasn't appreciating my own presence enough. It's an unnoticeably tiny part of it, but it makes you comprehend the need for a lot of us to travel to places alone, because it's not the newness of an alien city you're trying to discover. Contemplation, and perusal of self is key. I've iterated this in one of the Blogmases - everyone should live alone once. As social animals, there's nothing more discomforting, and challenging than to accept your own company. I reckon, maybe that's why humans came up with the concept of gallivanting, i...

Some people over the years have asked me if I take other people's opinion into consideration before writing what I do. The fact of the matter is, the answer to that question is a hard no. A lot of the things said here might matter to a lot of people. But, it's written mainly because they matter to me. I'm a bit on the fence about how abashed I am about not being amenable enough toward myself  earlier. I reckon subconsciously, for almost an eon, I believed it to be imperative for a certain amount of us trying to be a part of the same race, to be exactly the same, cookie-cut people. And, a lot of times I took cues from anyone, and everyone around me. Until a point came when a genuine reaction from me seemed confusing enough to know if it really was me anymore, or not. I abhor the thought that I put my mind through that, at all. Abhor even more, that it took me so long to gather that I didn't have to like myself at any point of time, as long as I loved me enough to keep wo...

 A lot of the times it's easy to come off as erratic for your choices of bents. I didn't fathom a lot of things my parents did, when I was younger. I could, but I didn't. "Hold the bottle tightly." "Not near the glass!" "Who's going to pay for this?" It was easier as kids to infer it was always about the money, until you start yielding some of your own. Which then, you employ to start piecing yourself a beautiful life, and that's when you cotton onto all the times you thought they were being mean. I've only latterly corralled the parallels between me, and my parents in the way I take care of my house, car, belongings. It's one thing to look after something well, because you wanted that item; because it's selfish, it's a materialistic response to your materialistic desires. It's a whole different thing when it's a part of your own world you've cemented together. I grew up in Delhi. For those of you who don...

Do you ever feel haunted by people? And, I don't mean dead. I mean functioning, alive people.  I've often remarked that we put our love out to the world very hopefully on our good days. And, by chance, someone gets a whiff of it, and they like what they're caught in the middle of, something extraordinary happens. People fall in love, everyday. Unfailingly. Some of them, even irrevocably.  It's not often a cakewalk to run into exactly what you seek. It's actually a snowball's chance. Yet, a lot of us do. And, when I witness something of the sort, I only wish they both know how fortunate they are. Because, most of us, plainly put, aren't. Being unlucky in love, and just having a luck that wouldn't even let you have the chance to pick yourself up, when you fall, are two drastically varied things. My heart breaks for the latter, because we don't know the struggles a lot of us are having to go through. Some people are vacuums. Regardless of how many times...

Every jazz takes time. And, the feeblest of things help. The next time you drink coffee, and your day feels slightly more fulfilled than the few seconds before, pay attention why; if it was the taste, or colour or the apt temperature. It's knowing more about what you like, right? And, we don't do that anymore - try to find things about something we like. Sure, coffee isn't a piece of art - though, I could well argue that it is - but, it is a tiny bit of your everyday affair with you. We're bent on waiting for the next big thing to occur, and we keep letting all the details pass us by. I don't think life happens in any other way, but little by little. Grab it. Until then. More tomorrow. Artist: Brent Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas, A.

For the better part of the year, most days were dead reality. They came in each day with no itinerary, or an upshot. We really put the motion, in going through the motions; so much so, just an old song was enough on days to unnerve. There are  a lot of people, who lost a thing or a person too many this year. Jobs, family, friends, projects, hopes, dreams... A lot of things, for a lot of us died this year. As one of the smarter species, we're quite brainlessly assaying to depart to better things, only because we couldn't hold on to a good thing. That's a folly. No one ever found anything better by leaving a good thing behind. You find a good thing, feel lucky for having so, and work to the bone at making it better. And, this is an underlying issue with most of us - assuming we'll find a better thing, because we have gotten used to having everything facilely. And, even more of us have forgotten that struggle is what makes that good thing far superior, because you know you...

Remember when we were kids, and the sporadic, puny feats would make us feel invincible enough to grow up to be anything we wanted? And, there wasn't just one role we anticipated ourselves playing; there were volumes of them. Yes. How's that going, by the way? As children, we manifest ourselves to ourselves at multiple chances. As we grow - and, I don't mean grow up, but grow older - we tend to do this in our own times; in secret places, behind closed doors. I don't reckon it's the apprehension of being held up to an opinion, and flak all the time, but despondency in our own selves. So, we find ways to create; or, better yet, escape. I'm aware, I've spoken enough about it, but this place holds a special place in my heart. Deer Park girdles every Sunday morning with my parents, as a kid. It skirts my bunk schedules in college, to hide in a cafe writing, overlooking the lake, and the forest beyond. It contains all my low points, and long walks of woe. It's ...

Workplaces all over the world are dreadfully condemnatory, and discriminatory. And, at times blindly run, as well. What dictates us to mostly continue dwell there is either love for what we do, or necessity. I've followed suit to the prior, but the latter must be a load of pants. Like I said  here  yesterday. Ambition.  There's a price to pay to for indulging in it. And, that price is your independence. When you rise from the ground up, there's a lot to ameliorate from being zealous, because you gain more than what you had. When you already have a cushion to launch off of, you're in the position to be enriched by others' ambitions.  Like I said yesterday, need because of greed is ambition, and the price of that is your independence. Need because of need is helplessness, and this time, peace is the price to pay. And, with your peace as the price to pay, the one thing you're never able to do is surround yourself with people who would share a quid pro quo with you,...

Whoever suggested to live your every day like its the last, was either downright poor, or radically wealthy. And, funnily enough neither of them believes this to be true because both of them desire abundance all the time - one because of need, and the other greed. The dear, sandwiched middle class walks with both. Greed because of need is dubitable, need because of greed is ambition. The prior is the indulgence of the rich, the latter, the custom for the middle class.  And, that's all I'm going to put here tonight for your thought. So, give it one, because I will talk about this more tomorrow. Until then. Artist: Furkan Söyler Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas, A.

 Being alright with both, when something you tried manifesting, does, and didn't, is a very bold space to be. Funnily enough, there's a lot of self added in every verb we need to describe our behaviour towards ourselves. Talk about emphasising the point. Everyone has their own way of practising self-(insert desired verb here). Mine is, a lot of the times, with music. And, that holds true for the majority of us. Just a good, ol' Rewind for today. "...you were staring down the street 'cause you were, tryin' not to crack up, It wasn't like a rain, it was more like a sea..." "....I was three days on a drunken sin, I woke with her walls around me, Nothin' in her room but an empty crib..." "...kerosene in my hand, you made me mad, On fire again, all the pills that you take..." "...In the skies over black Venice, I see eyes of a white menace, The surprise of the week, is that I never heard the sound, All the L.A. women..." ...

In my teens, I dreamt about everything materialistic. In my early 20s, I dreamt about money. In my latter 20s, well, there's a lot more. We grow, we grow up, and we place a price on what's vital to have. We put a value to worth in diverse measures. Even ourselves. Especially, ourselves. Whoever taught us, or told us that we're the kind to which a denomination can be placed. It's easy to believe good things about yourself; easier to believe the bad ones.  We're often not very hospitable to ourselves. We're all torn between believing whether we're virtuous of our own love, or not. I'm not very implicit at this point, why we're in a steady battle with ourselves because of others' demeanours. It's an impact, sure. But, I feel we give too much of a voice to others, before we remember to give ours a value.  I've always felt criticism, feedback, and discipline is the healthiest way to grow. And, I hold a deep respect, in a place very personal in...

 Self-doubt. Self-confidence. Self-love. Plants. Invasion. Completion. Phases. Barricades. Paranoia. Hope. Success. Laughs. Puppers. Help. Possibilities. Comfort zones. Discomfort. Criticism. Faith. Direction. Growth. Panic. Alarm. Revivals. More plants. Accusations. Silences. Oranges. Pretence. Loss. Enlightenment.  Illusions of friendships.  Broken friendships.  Friendships that wouldn't let go.  Decisions. Pain. Strangers. Unconditionality. Newness. Even more plants. Seek. Self-respect. Dreams. Some more plants. More hope. Work. And, more. What're you thankful for this year? More tomorrow. Until then. Artist:  小老虎-tgr Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas, A.

Over the past few years, I've turned into a massive advocate of energy. And, a major lesson I've derived from that belief is patience. A lot of us enact as being the sort of people "who let things take their natural course." As another human myself, I can say I have it on good authority, the majority of us don't hold the kind of grit to be tailgating that theory. I was one of them. I would rush into things, on the pretext if I don't give it my 200%, it's not going to happen. And, how wrong I was.  For some of us, we deem we're giving something more than our all. But in effect, the truth is, for the longest time we're never able to figure, how much of our all, is really our all. It's an immensely tricky thing to know of. Our minds are our sanctum. So, when we assume we're giving our 200%, and we fail, that same mind uses up all its corners, including the little sanctuary you created in it. And, there goes the peace of mind. And, we do this o...

There are infinite moments between where we're now, and where we wish to be. Though, it's glib how we're never chuffed with our current situation. And, we're easily petrified of the space that keeps us apart from our wishing place. Some people call it future planning. Though, I'm not sure it really is that. Money, no object, success, healthy relationships - the usual memo? Although while ticking through the checklist that gets you there, or wherever else you anticipate, do you have a list to make sure you're taking more with you, than leaving more behind? Didn't reckon so.  We ardently lie to ourselves about what it is we want, because we either aren't brave enough to accept what we want, or zealous enough to put in the work to verily seize the same. And, once we stop lying to ourselves, that's the most truthful we'll ever be in our lives.  There's an elephant in the room that we never address, mostly because there's a multiverse of rooms...

Deliberate about how people closest to you hurt you.  Calculatedly, or not, venting, or insulting. Mostly all quandaries are solvable, except the last. It takes a specific kind ignorance to dig deep, and cramp someone that way. Respect is a mighty thing. It's sheer elusiveness makes for a very tactile ache, when there's a lack of it. Even worse, is the idea of being respected.  Here's what I think. Someone can be closest to you, or mad for you, or worked with you for years, and still not respect you. And, more often than not, I've descried this happening with almost everyone around me. The issue is intuiting it. Disrespect would mean even a meagre presence of the opposite. But, a lack of.... And, when you happen onto the void of it, it's a distant kind of grief. It's the kind that leaves a bulging scar you feel every time you itch.  It's not something that goes away with a self-care routine of bubble baths and a glass of wine.  There'll be a lot of times...

Are you a perfectionist? Is it exhausting? I spent my late teens and early 20s trying to make everything immaculate. That induced a crushing alarm to fail at doing so. When you're constantly trying to be vigilant to not commit even the slightest mistake, you lose out on acting for the work you've been fretting about being impeccable in the first place. And, that's the first step to stagnancy, inaction, and failure.  Remember passing through landscapes as kids while travelling in the train? That's it; movement is requisite for change. And, when you're rendered indolent because of your innate dread of being sophistical, you lose out on doing anything at all.  There's a pressing need to rewire the ideology we're taught to work with dramatically. Though, the only way to go about it is introspection. At the end of the day, all of us are well aware of what our potential is, and while some of us find ways very young to harness it, some take a couple of decades. But...

I love me a Jade plant. The most arresting thing about Jades is that you can shape it any way you like. You prune it one way, and it grows bushier there.  Concoct a scenario of being able to snip parts of yourself to grow in that direction. All of us are  always someplace else. Now concoct another, of a dimension where you are exactly who you want to be.  An isotope of you in another time. What are they doing? Are you already that person? Do you even want to be? If so, are you doing enough to be that person?  Think hard, and think fast about your gears, that hurt you the most. And, then think a lot on them. either you'll start loving those parts, or you'll want to prune them away.  The most sublime slant about our minds is, they're always in a state of repair. And, it doesn't stop because, miserably enough, we don't. We keep piling the trash can, but never take it out. If there was a routine cleansing machine for the mind, you wouldn't be mindful about which of ...

  Who are you? Most importantly, who would you want to be? All of us are schlepping an incompatible image of ourselves than what the world deduces us to be, and we perdure endlessly, hard as hell to muster all that we want our stories to be about, within ourselves. All our minds are alike war zones; you can effortlessly map out shelter areas, the warfront, some tanks, and bazookas lying in an unkempt corner. Take five minutes. Take ten, actually, and try fancying exactly how faultlessly you want your life to turn out a veritable way. That's all it takes. Five minutes, and a lifetime to relentlessly netting it all. But, while doing that, what parts of yourself are you putting out in the meat market to be butchered? For all the innumerable units, for every imaginable kind of quantification for distance, areas, monies, time, no one ever came up with one for an emotional stake. With all of us there are moments we barely remember, and some we go over time and time again. That's what...

Hello. Another year. Another Day One. Another Hello. Another year of Blogmas. (you can read the previous years  here ) The year has been apathetic to everyone, to say the least. So, there'll be no talk here about it. It's Christmas, after all. And, as impartial times this year have been, the varied perspectives looking at the stunted burgeoning as people has lingered long enough. Growth is incontestable, esoteric, and loud. I've been opining, and abstracting our lives to be an endless file room, with a myriad mantles after mantles lined with every second we've spent compassing, committing, executing, feeling, breathing, living, or not. Imagine, walking through such an arbour, and pulling out a file at chance. Imagine, pulling a file outlining everything you went through in a second, that you'd grown heedless about it. Imagine, musing over this one second, bringing forth all the seconds you've been deliberately, and snugly tucking away in files marked confidentia...