Desert Rose

 The hardcover was intact but a little sticky from years of perspiration from being stuck in the cupboard. It is lovely how seeing just the outer cover can stir a whole lot of emotions. It can wake up memories that you had put to sleep with a lot of effort. On turning each page, each of their faces smiling wide was so clear in the mind. In a phase of life where you’re wondering if memory is your thing anymore, it is quite reassuring to see your mind map the handwriting to the right faces.   A line here and a phrase there; a quick sketch here and an inside joke there; ink pen on a page that’s slowly fading (but you still remember enough to fill in); pages made all colorful with every line in a different pen. On a day when everything felt grey from the inside, just flipping the pages painted her mind red. They’d been the world at a point. Then there was a blur. Then there were years of questioning the blur. This phase was followed by some agitation and anger for not being...

That morning stretch & silent prayer; that tea or coffee that you prepare. A little sweat and some good smiles; and cleaning off some pending piles. A pleasant hello to the one across; a quick chat with someone you were cross. A plate full that satisfies the tummy and soul; a good watch without having to scroll. A goodnight with a book over the face;  and that feeling of not being part of any race. Most of the days - this is all we need.  The honesty and integrity of daily routine - the highest vibrating energy to take us ahead.

Considering that this year has been a lot about motherhood for me, it had to be a year of intense connection. While that experience with my son and husband has been a chapter by itself, what needed more time and energy was realizing the need and beauty of a profound disconnect. I never worked well with the concept of disconnect. Was it because I did not learn how to build boundaries too well? – Let’s just say that I did not learn to draw them well and my parents probably still don’t know that there is an option to do so. Celebrating bonds, emotions and heavily investing in relationships is what I’ve been conditioned to. No – I still can’t tell myself it is any less than amazing. Yes – I can now tell myself that not everyone can understand or feel the same way. If the idea of needing to “disconnect” at times sounds ridiculous, or even mean-spirited, I want to assure you that isn’t my intent at all. In my own life too, I have been the one that was disconnected from. It does hurt,...

What was I even thinking? Some days you just can't stop wondering about this. Some soups we get ourselves into, leave us questioning our own self over and over again. Some people we choose make us wonder about our capacity to analyze or make choices. Some of these situations are such a mess that though we make ourselves believe that we have moved on, very often we keep going back trying to understand why it took that path.  Whoever it may be or whatever situation it was, we definitely knew what we were feeling. But then - what were we thinking? Or, did we think at all? In some way or the other way, most of us are trying to sort something like this at all points.  A couple of days after me and my friend spoke about this aspect, I happened to read a note I'd written to myself in one of my older notebooks.  "What was I thinking? - I clearly wasn't thinking. Why wasn't I thinking? - Because I was busy feeling and I guess some aspect of it was good at that moment."...

21 days. There were countdowns everywhere. Different kinds of them - cooking experiments, art and craft, reading, reviews of contents to watch on digital platforms, ludo tournaments, zoom calls, home work-outs, cleaning and rearranging spaces and so on. The interesting part is that most of us knew that these 21 days will not be the end. In fact we were sure that there will be more to it. But still there was the countdown. There was hope. In a sense, we've lost count of days but countdowns are still on. Quarantine activities and #hashtags are still trending. Economy has collapsed. People around the world are going through all sorts of tough situations. Some people are dying in bits and pieces and so many are just dying. Freedom has now taken a new definition. But we feel hope. We have faith. For many it has been about realizing that while searching all around to experience the profound, it was right there in their homes. For many it has been about re...

“We were a thing, you know. It is almost like we wake up together and do all our stuff in sync. We also enjoy similar activities and styles. But somehow she was not okay with me being around with….” “We are so connected and I used to share everything with them. It never felt like they were so elder to me. It was more of a buddy vibe than grandparent vibe. But then…”  “Last time I did that work schedule since she wasn’t there right. Now apparently I need to take up that responsibility completely!”  “We both were the best of friends. Like literally! For a really long time, it was just that and then with all that happened later and for the mess it became – wish I could…”  “How can we say no nah? It is okay. We’ll manage somehow.” Every person I talk to seems to be having something going on along these lines on a personal and professional level. Of course – my life is full of it too.  Really – these kinds of issues that each of us encounter on a d...

Hold fast to dreams, they say. For if dreams die, life is a broken winged bird that cannot fly. But somehow she tried every night to stay awake to keep away from those dreams. Some days the waves get her and on others a shadow screams. She did her little prayer and filled her heart with gratitude. But then into the night, her fears came haunting, breaking her fortitude. Like children bring their broken toys to mend, she surrendered it all to God and turned to her friend. Tell me, she said. About the journeys they’d make, places they’d live. About the children they’d have, the home they’d build.  But he didn’t tell because he didn’t know it yet. We’ll see it as it comes he said instead. But it wasn’t until the bad dreams took her that he understood;  she didn’t need the home or the journeys; she only needed a beautiful dream to hold on to. 

Some days I hear that voice. The unpretending harmony. But so rare are such days. Most days it is all about the pretentious. Isn’t that proof enough that she’s been missing something. She spends her mornings and nights in faith; submitting every bit of her to that omnipresent power. It is like she waits everyday for her greatest self to come and rescue her. When will she realize that she must go to her? You’re sincerely being nice to us and everyone. When will you be nice to yourself, woman? You breathing thing. That’s how life works – being a home to new life while being a memory to many. I am letting you be because without a shattered heart, you may not find the strength to build a life better that before. Oh but I am not letting you be forever. Let me whisper this into your ears. "You’re worth everything. Loving deeply and living fully. Because you’re here today and alive. That’s all the proof you need."   "It must be possible to s...

When everything seems to be in place but yet it doesn’t feel that way. When the heart is always wandering but even the destination finds it hard to believe that you could wander. When there is not a bit of emotional energy you have for yourself and yet you squeeze out all that is left for people around. When you are honest and say uncomfortable things only so as to make the future comfortable but all you’re left with is a judgmental  sigh. When we are busy making assumptions and judgement  without realizing that you are being judged too. When you give your everything professionally but stingy ones on the other side dismiss it over convenient excuses. When you say “Me too” and people around dismiss it by just saying “oh you too”. When you’re constantly watching series and movies on digital platforms which of course are so brilliantly made, but you wonder why it is all about killing, dying, evil & fantasy – more like the end of something is near....

Some days we get it all wrong. Sometimes we just have one of those days, where things happen to you over and over again, as if someone up above is testing to see if you really want to have a good day. At least I do. A little something that's been brewing up inside my head leads to everything else. And then even before I realize, I just want to run and close myself in a room. I sit down and go through every scene of my 'bad day'. What all did I do? What did not go too well? Why did I say it or do it? I try to justify myself as much as I can ; as hard as I can. I repeat great lines to my own brains - " It is impossible to live without failing at something, unless you live so cautiously that you might as well not have lived at all - in which case you fail by default." or shorter ones like - "Life is tough darling, but so are you.". I deceive myself like I'm going to fix myself and look for options for distraction and engagement. It keeps going for a w...

When I graduated, I was all set to pursue masters and do all the stuff that I was 'supposed' to. A year later, somewhere I felt I was not sure if I wanted to. And I began enjoying all the little big things I was up to. And then on it has been multiple things I engage myself in everyday which began to feel fulfilling. But there are those days where I am sent into this state of shock thinking about the questions I'm asked. So what's your plan? ( Earlier it was about my further studies alone but now it is also about my reproduction chart)  Am I not running this race fast enough?                                                                                                                Image so...

You know that feeling? When you’re just waiting. Waiting to get home. Waiting to get into your room. To close the door, to fall on that bed. And to just let everything out that you kept in all day. That feeling of relief and desperation? Nothing is wrong. But nothing is right either. And you’re tired. Tired of everything. Tired of nothing. And you just want someone to be there, to tell you that it is okay. But no one is going to be there and you know that only you can fix you. But you’re tired of waiting. Tired of having to be the one to fix yourself and everyone else. Tired of being strong. And for once you want it to be easy. To be simple. To be helped. To be saved. You know the chances are slim. You’re still hoping, right? You’re still wishing, isn’t it? You’re staying strong and fighting with tears in your eyes. You’re fighting. Keeping fighting. Write yourself a warrior’s tale.

She walked in barefoot into the nature. Something whispering, murmuring, coaxing and invoking. The many trees that turn color in the fall. The sunlight filtering through the treetops making beautiful dappled patterns on the pond. Children all around making happy shrills. Running, playing and being their age. The lone couple under a sprawling banyan and the other couple freezing moments of maternity. The bald man asleep on a bench and another just like that on the grass. A young lady reading ‘God of Small Things’ and the grandpa with his kindle. A bunch of burqa clad women busy picking fallen leaves out of their lunch boxes as they sat in a circle, giggling. And another lot playing ice and water. Babies in their strollers and the puppies strolling around. Roses of every color and shape. Some as big as two palms cupped together. The gulmohar, silver oak, pink Cassia and hundreds of nameless astoundingly beautiful plants. The texture of the ...

It was my turn to move away from home. It was time for me, like they say, to go behind my dreams. And I was sure. My entire world was sure that my father would not deal with it well. I knew he wouldn’t wave goodbye without shedding some tears - joyous and anxious. (Somewhere I was proud of it. Proud of being his girl with whom he cannot stay.) And finally that day arrived for me to fly out and as I walked away, I noticed something was different. He didn’t shed tears and his look told me a thousand things that I couldn’t then perceive. Everyone around including my mother said he had prepared himself well for this change and was strong. But somewhere behind my mind that image remained. Tiny details but the most important things seemed different whenever I went home. He didn’t play his usual doze of morning music which was like an energizer to wake up for us all our life. There were not many evenings where movies were discussed to tiny details. Those evening walks where keeping up w...

She was like ice but still burned like no one ever could. She set herself on fire each night because it was too dark and chilly in the hell she was living. She dreamt of people falling from the sky, plummeting to their deaths. She woke up with disbelief in her eyes but the nightmare continued.  She pumped her veins with things that can poison her blood; but she continued breathing.  She felt her insides rotting and quite unsure of how her heart still kept throbbing. She was like ice but still burned like no one ever could. So she put on her pretty dresses and painted herself in different emotions.  She kept singing aloud as if she knew the right trail.  She kept dancing and swaying as if she knew the right moves. What she knew was that every thorn that caught her at each turn, slicing into her, would just make scratches.  She wouldn’t let a few scratches bleed her dry.   So she kept singing and dancing loud enough while...

I thought your heart leaked love;  when did venom turn out to be so intoxicating. So extremely alluring;  yet unexplainably excruciating. It was in your lips; soft yet evil, conquering my soul. It was in your touch; hidden beautifully in that romance. Like a beautiful thing it came; Then a sense of falling and an eventual cease. I am free now.

It was all about order then; But she doesn’t know until when. When did that pull towards love and chaos take over? Or maybe was chaos always the constant? Her world now moved too fast. She missed the shades of each sunset;  She no longer felt her toes kissing the earth beneath. It was no more about order; But chaos. It was like being the moon afraid of the vast sky; but loving the way it held the stars. She yearned for peace from all this mayhem. But she didn’t realise that she invited it; Because she was too wild to feel alive when at peace. To be reckless; To consume. To be wild ; To be her. Chaos was its own kind of beautiful.

They wrote love letters like bed time stories and stacked them.  Those stacks. Reminders to never forget. They swam in a sea of open ended sentences.  Sentences punctuated with her scent. But did she know then, that the gravity of loneliness smelled the same as well. Broke. They rebuilt. Broke again. The 'lost cause' wrapped in 'remember when ' and 'what could have been' ;  all in an 'if only things were different'. And she's lost. Dizzy. Lost on that less traveled road.  He was like a December. Serene. He was the morning cool.  And she no less than a fool for mistaking glass for the openness ;  mistaking the calm for content. To awaken the lost, silent dreams ; wanting to gather hope and spirit ; those stacks found a place elsewhere ;  those bed time stories were put to sleep. Forever. 

All that turbulent past ; to times moving way too fast. All that bow and arrow ; that made it right at my heart. All the wrongs and mistakes ; that saw immense growing up. All those trials that seemed right ; which turned out what I call my life now. All those moments of clarity ; which was just a mere weak illusion. All those questions with no answers ; but just my endless and tired gaze. All that waiting for greater purpose ; which is more about whether I care to hang around. All that turbulent past ; to times moving way too fast.