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...

It was in my 9th grade that I decided what I'd pursue as a career. I am not able to recollect when it all began and how I picked up Architecture as a potential profession. I remember my parents taking me to career counseling sessions and doing everything in their capacity to make sure I take an informed decision. When I look back, I believe I tailored the results of those sessions myself. In my head, I had that career implanted - so every questionnaire and every one on one interview - all boiled down to a career in design.  But what I strongly remember is that I never chose architecture because I wanted to run my own firm or work in an architectural studio - I don't believe I said that out loud! To be associated with the construction industry with a deep understanding of design so as to execute and get a project running was why I took this path. I knew it before I started my studies, but somewhere down the line, with the fraternity being inclined towards only the obvious career...

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.

Back in 2016, when I was gearing up to get married, I happened to be part of many conversations that were a little confusing. At that point, I also penned down my thoughts in a blog "You're Getting Married?!" .    Ever since, I've been observing conversations, patterns, and its implications with a lot more attention - just for me to make sense of it.  A lot of the things said and done these days under the tag of sense of humor feels very unsettling to me - naive or snarky is what they happen to be more than often.  From early on as a child, the idea of raising a kid came very naturally to me. Over the years I grew up envisioning a future that definitely had this aspect covered. And then something changed over the last 6 to 7 years. I started revisiting the idea very often. I went through all phases - planning according to my age and our finances (looks like I wasn't good at keeping up with my plan 😛), considering adoption or fostering to cite a few. But I knew th...

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...

There are these things which seem so little or trivial but actually is so strong in its impact and intent.   At the end of every big discussion we realize that it's after all a list of small things that needs to be looked into.  When David and I started talking a few years ago, there were certain casual statements and major discussions that flowed between us which gave us both the confidence to look at a future with each other. I remember this one time, when we discussed children - funnily enough we both didn't seem too sure about whether we wanted to have children, and if we did, we had no idea when. But we both seemed to agree on what the child's name should be like and that seemed to be the most organic part of the conversation. Fast forward - And Last month, we welcomed our little one to this world and we were definitely feeling a whole lot of things. There obviously was so much excitement to tell the world about his arrival and so we did with the expected...

There are times when it is all about dreaming to go far and wide. There are too many frames in the mind of how lovely it would be to take journeys  where the nights live on forever and friends made will give you stories for a lifetime. Then comes the time to actually go far and wide - not being able to contain the excitement. The journey surely being more beautiful and rewarding than it looked like in the dreams - the time when the nights live on forever and the friends will do all the magic. And then comes the time where journeys begin to look different. Sometimes it even feels just perfect to be alone while experiencing it and sometimes it feels like a journey to find a place or person that will become home. Then for many comes the time when it feels like they have arrived in that space - place, person, passion or the like. At the end of so many journeys, you stumble upon that sense of belonging and all the experiences along the way feel like they were just ...

“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. 

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...

“You know what. I really can’t stand that. It is so distracting. Why can’t she stop doing it?” “He will never understand. He’s always been this and nothing is going to change.” “I don’t know. I can’t tell her this. My relation with her is not like you and your sister. We don’t connect or share much. So I don’t think me asking will work.” So what is the one common factor about these dialogues? It is the very fact that the issue is not being discussed with the person involved but with somebody else. And this aspect has been grabbing my attention way too much lately. Most problems I hear from people of my circle actually boils down to this – lack of the 2 C’s. Confrontation & Conversation                            Source : https://goo.gl/images/eN9vGx “Sometimes you just need to talk about something – not to get sympathy or help, but just to kill its power by allowing the truth of things to h...

She woke up that day with a smile.   Thank God. Lately days are bright and happy. Yet that day, it was something else. After a minute or two, she realized. The reason.   She was amused because she thought it was all long back ago. She thought she'd forgotten details. Days which once mattered the most.   And here she was, messed up hair and tiny eyes, and the smile. How a tiny bit from the past make us come alive without us realizing. How those pieces we thought were buried deep down or removed from our system find their way back on the days that makes most sense to those memories.   How we see the innumerable happy moments over the few that probably caused the drift. After all she's a wild child with stains.   Sometimes imperfect. Sometimes unclean. But so damn shiny underneath.

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...

“Sending letters and cards have been a part of us for as long as I can remember. Texting, social media and phone calls all work out just fine but there's this electric, yet very soothing energy that revolves around the art of writing the same down on paper, digging up an envelope, throwing in som e stamps, lick-sealing it (Kidding, don't go there  #papercut ), seeing that beautiful red box, slipping it in, praying to all the Indian Post Gods ‘thou not leteth them goeth astray', hearing the khakhi attired person ring the cycle bell, see them walk in the gate, 'Sukumaretta, kathundo?' (‘Do I have letter?’), to which he'll nod. Your loved ones would run to the door, wind in their hair and take the letter to find a random LIC letter.”  Quoting Flynn George coz I couldn’t put this any better. Writing letters is fun, therapeutic, and has a much deeper meaning to the recipient than anything else. For that matter my husband proposed to me over a letter and I sai...