.a written note.

Aren’t thoughts a world in themselves? I am on my left, a little dizzy, with WhatsApp screen on on my phone. It’s standby and I have something going on in my mind. I know this. I know what it is. It’s time standing still and I’m no longer in the same place. Like an unpredictable summer wind, I’m taken away and back to the 90s. It looks like film. Grainy. Old times really do look grainy- a blend of red and yellow and a sad brown, sepia. I see my brother, 4 years older to me, with his smile just as innocent as I recall it. His signature full lips, a wide smile showing half of his teeth, it is so intact now that I see it. Alongside him, there’s me, 4 years younger to him, a sister that wanted to fit into his idea of a good sister. He’s wearing his red Polo T-shirt and my frock is brown and white. I’m playing with him, trying to generate in myself an interest for bikes and all things mechanical so that I too will have a say in seemingly interesting conversations between him an...

Last week, first visit: After days of only planning to visit and restart with my classroom now after three years, I visit finally in the last week. With little hopes of meeting all of my old students in one place, I still wish I’d meet them all for I’ve missed them so much. When I actually go to the classroom, which is basically an extra room provided by one of the families from the community, I am ecstatic to meet all of them slowly, one by one coming to the classroom as they get to know that their Arundhati Didi has come. Pankhudi is a non-governmental organization that works towards providing education to the underprivileged kids in a slum in Pune called Patil Estate. This slum is situated in the middle of probably the busiest locality in Pune that is Shivajinagar. However, the slum itself gives birth to a different life that I became a part of back in 2013. I had served there as a full-time volunteer till the middle of 2014. All of them are just as surprised as I am,...

I think of you. I think of you a lot of times. Sometimes you occupy my entire day and there are times I wake up in the middle of the night because of the nightmares I get. Nightmares are made of thoughts at the back of one’s mind and more often than not, those thoughts are unaccepted, denied or just scary. I think of you when I’m walking rounds and rounds after dinner, when I’m waiting for my station standing in a crowded bus, when I’m with people laughing and talking excessively, when I’m having good days, when I’m reading a book and come across a similar character like you — like any one of you, when there are extreme joyful situations and also when there are lowest lows. I think of you. In other words, you didn’t leave my mind. You’re either no longer in my life or you’re on the verge of leaving but you haven’t left my mind and you will probably not. I met some of you in the most typical scenarios and there are those of you I met accidentally and unexpectedly. But eit...

if it leaves, it’s not pain. It never was. If at all it hits you hits you hard, it’s like a blue ink it leaves behind stains that refuse to vanish no matter who’s doing the laundry. It entertains like a dream long enough to confuse you into reality and it elopes into a faraway land turning you into a melancholic mess engulfed in solitude that becomes a more fathomable, a more comfortable white-sheets bed. So, in your mind you may think you're alone all indulged on your own, what will you answer if I say I too am one, one of your irrational thoughts or loathsome imageries that hide behind the curtains of your eyes? I am the sight you thought you lost. I am the intrigued audience when you’re on stage. Therefore, let there be a time apart from their goody mouth and promising handshakes for they're all true and pretentious at their own convenience and you must not ever stand waiting For you have a universe within you dying to come alive and kill with a smile.

Writing has its own advantages and disadvantages. Yesterday I wrote about maturity. I do enjoy writing on paper before blogging. It’s just how I function. However, at this moment, I am directly typing this all and planning to post. Let’s talk about blogging. It was five years ago when I first started blogging. It interested me to a level where I realized how immensely did I enjoy writing. It was a hidden hobby and Blogger became the medium through which I initially wrote. It wasn’t a diary where I regularly updated daily happenings, it was more than that. I started with expressing how I generally felt about things and how certain things drove my attention at the moment and I’d talk about it on my blog. The blog grew with many fellow bloggers who became my readers and for the first time in my life, I was virtually surrounded by people with whom I developed mutual interests. We would only write individually and read. It wasn’t a compulsion, it wasn’t a necessity. As a few...

How do you get over a city? How do you get over a city that once gave you some of the best times of your life and not to forget the constant emotional reminders of those times! I think cities are a hundred times more difficult to get over with than a walking-laughing-talking human being. Interpersonal relations are sometimes too overrated. They’re overwhelming, yes. But they’re overrated. I, having entered twenties and still not being too comfortable with the fact that I am actually growing up this fast, have come to think that people are only as hard to understand and deal with as you treat them. I’m not a consultant nor am I an expert at interpersonal relations. Rather I’ve recently grown very bad at them. I’ve tried and tried, but some things just can’t be helped. On the other hand, a city. A city is a tremendo us pack age of self growth, a good makeover to one’s perspective and if you’re new to a city and have almost no one to go to for starters, then trust me, you’...

Writing has become tough. It’s like that small town not too far from where I live but whenever I plan on visiting, it’s either raining heavily or the traffic is just too much; meaning I postpone. Procrastinate. Unlike before, when I didn’t visit but lived there for as long as I wanted. It was home. It was easy. The traffic, the rain, none of it mattered. The town existed within. It helped me connect with myself the first time in life and I still haven’t experienced anything close to that feeling when you know how well in sync you are with yourself. It was just so unreal and the most real experience all at the same time. It doesn’t have to be perfect. It doesn’t have to be classy. It doesn’t have to be overflown with self-love just because I mentioned connecting with self. Rather, it’s not about self-love. It’s about self. I’ve lately come to understand how essential it is to know and be generous or at least, acceptable about or with oneself, your own self. I didn’t real...

Tonight lying exactly under the sky gazing at the stars and moon I am feeling no fear inside no fear none at all none cares here for the good laughter, enjoyment, music and whatnot I am intrigued by all and I can feel there’s no reason to be scared of anyone ever in life I finally understand I am a whole human being and the value of it I have a whole universe within and rushing through me there’s a galaxy in just about everything about life breathtaking is what I’d call this this enchanting endeavour.

Writing has become tough. It’s like that small town not too far from where I live but whenever I plan on visiting, it’s either raining heavily or the traffic is just too much; meaning I postpone. Procrastinate. Unlike before, when I didn’t visit but lived there for as long as I wanted. It was home. It was easy. The traffic, the rain, none of it mattered. The town existed within. It helped me connect with myself the first time in life and I still haven’t experienced anything close to that feeling when you know how well in sync you are with yourself. It was just so unreal and the most real experience all at the same time. It doesn’t have to be perfect. It doesn’t have to be classy. It doesn’t have to be overflown with self-love just because I mentioned connecting with self. Rather, it’s not about self-love. It’s about self. I’ve lately come to understand how essential it is to know and be generous or at least, acceptable about or with oneself, your own self. I didn’t real...

It shouldn’t be a sunny afternoon. You shouldn’t be indoor at work on a sunny afternoon when it’s time to realize that you’ve become a loner. I gaze outside at the tower beside the building of my work. Aimlessly. It’s a sunny afternoon, but the afternoon that comes on an odd Tuesday. Now, how empty does that feel? No birds around to chirp as it must be too hot outside around 2 PM. I scribble a paragraph or two on a plain white paper and it feels surprisingly good to write. I feel the sudden urge to write it all out, to pour my heart out with the ink that’s vivid blue. I recall each and every event, every tiniest bit of deed in the recent past that may have led to being a loner. Here I was, sitting idly in the middle of work, never thought I’d be a loner but who can help it if I feel it so deeply within? Probably the bedtime playlist, the small seemingly unimportant epiphanies every now and then, when ignored, along with other casual needs of indulging in my own company, ...