24 years of life

It’s said we never stop being a student… life is a constant teacher and its lessons are never ending… I have used this sentence too many times in my life, but never really appreciated the beauty of the truth behind it. the best teacher is the one who doesn’t makes us realize that they are making us learn something new, when learning occurs in the course of enjoying the moments… when learning occurs silently… and leaves us amazed every time we stop to look around, at all that we have learned…
Life passes on… there are too many stories in my life… and I don’t know how to share it with the world…. I have all this emotions running in my heart and I don’t know how to express it. They are so beautiful. All these stories full of memories, I don’t think I know how to use words to justify them… I feel lost in the maze of so many story… every one of them different…. Everyone of them with strings of memories attached… some happy and some not so… but all of them leave me amazed at the life I have lived till now… it’s like counting my blessings… which I have never done cause I never thought I had any special miracles happening in my life to be acknowledge… but I now feel blessed… at having received so much… now that another phase of my life ends… time for reflection starts…
I have always been a pessimist all my life, always expecting the worst. But I guess there is still a optimist hidden somewhere inside me, because I keep getting disappointed, cause I have not yet been able to kill the part of me that expects more than the best in people and situations!! Now that I take time to look back, I see all the times when this hidden optimism had pulled me through… left me teary eyed and pushed me to push myself….
Someone once taught me to approach life with subdued aggression, so as to appear approachable while still never losing sight of the goal. I am much too lazy for that. I don’t have the patience to keep up a front I don’t believe in… either I go full throttle or I don’t go at all… this middle ka “na yaha ka na waha ka” funda (neither here nor there) doesn’t works with me. I am an all or nothing sort of person. But having experienced life up till this point, I understand the wisdom in those words. And it has become the new motto of my life, my new life.
I am a 24 years old, entering the professional world for the first time. The experience is both a shock and a relief, with hints of what “financial independence” feels like.


story of me

They say, the best stories are the ones with little bit of truth in them. a little bit of the soul of the writer. I haven’t had the most extraordinary of lives… But there have been a lot of things I am always going to be grateful for. So this is my story. The reason that I write.
I know lose is a part of life. The way we deal with them makes us who we are. I can share happiness… it’s the sadness that I am partial about. I guess it’s the reason I am often labeled selfish. I know I am a hypersensitive person and there aren’t many ways for me to hide or overcome this defect in my character. Before reading the autobiography of Thrity Umrigar, an Indian parsi author, I never realized that I wasn’t an abnormality. That there were people out there who felt the way I did.
I lived in a small place, far out of reach of the world that I had started living in inside my head. I wanted to be part of that world, be part of her story, I wanted to ride the B.E.S.T bus with her, wanted to pull down my socks and hike up my skirt with her, I wanted to be the person buying story books with her. But we lived in different places and more importantly in different time era. But she was my inspiration. She was my friend, someone who understood me, someone who went through the same things that I went through, someone who realized that love could become a cage from which it would forever be difficult to fly away… someone who knew that letting go first, took so much courage. She felt like a soul sister I had from a different dimension. Through her story, I got hope… that future wasn’t as bleak as it looked, that there was a much wider world out there, and people who understood us, where we wouldn’t have to live like misfits, where we would be accepted for who we were and we didn’t have to hide behind the curtains of fake controlled smiles, that there was a way to experience the world from that small window of hope… books.
So I wrote. To be able to turn sorrows into stories. To be able to read them and let go of them. everytime reality got too hurtful I took refuge in the world of stories. Everytime the world got too sarcastic and mean, I turned to them again. Until it felt like the stories in those pages were more real than the real life passing me by. I tried to build a mask. To stop the pain from seeping out into all my relations. But damaged goods cannot be repaired, can never be brand new. The cracks were always going to show. I tried to hide it. tried to make up for it. but the truth is, the world always knows your weak points. And life always teaches the same lessons until we learn to learn from them. so when reality finally struck, and relations I thought most important to me couldn’t withstand the burden of my past, I had to lose them all…
They say love can overcome everything. I have been in love. And I ended up breaking them, destroying them. So now, Love scared me. I didn’t want to be a monster anymore. I closed all the windows to it. Because I didn’t want to hurt people anymore. I was tired of pulling everyone down with me, to that scary dark pit where hope had very little light. I didn’t want people who loved me, to face those demons I had to deal with on a regular basis. I was scared… that they wouldn’t love me if they knew the real me, if they found out how broken and beyond repair I was. I was scared that they would give up on me if they found out how far gone I was. So I gave up first. I left them before they could ever leave me. I was a young scared child in a grown person’s body. And nobody understood it, nobody had a clue about it. Cause I had managed to fool them all. I guess I was successful in building that mask I always wanted.
Until one day, when love decided to walk into my life, breaking down doors and pushing through the darkness of my soul. A love, which made me lose control and forced me to show my real self. Love which made me realize, I was holding on to too many things. Love, that made me realize that my heart had enough space for love but none for all that guilt. It made me realize that if I ever wanted to move forward in life, I had to first forgive myself. Those people I had hurt had long since forgotten me. They had moved way ahead in life… that I was only a distant memory, a small character in their story. But for me, the guilt kept the wounds fresh. It occupied and colored all my memories with hurt. Sometimes it filled all my waking hours with nightmares. Consciousness suffocated me. Sleep was my only escape.
But this beautiful love took me by the storm and left me without the support of the mask I had always held on to. It forced me to face my demons and overcome them. it made me realize that my hypersensitivity wasn’t a curse. That I was strong enough, capable enough to love and be loved. That I was held back by chains I had built myself. that the mask I had thought was my fortress had become my cage. And I only had to be strong enough to let it crumble. I realized that all I had to do was ask for forgiveness, that I didn’t have to suffer in silence. That sharing my hurt was going to enable me to let it go finally. So I did it. And with each story that I told, I felt the tightness in my heart loosening. The lump in my throat melting and love filling up my soul and hope glittering like diamonds. The grip of guilt finally letting go of me. at last freeing my soul.
This is me all barred. Judge me if you must. But I learnt all these lessons and I survived it all. And don’t they say? What doesn’t kills you make you stronger! I am better than I was. I will be better than I am. I promise.

glimses of my kintsugi soul

I was just chatting with one of my friend, about old friendships, about my stubborn nature, about how many friends I had lost because of my pride. At the end of the message he wrote, “I don’t know what you think… but sometimes think of other person not yourself.”

I was stung to tell the truth… and a lot of sarcastic lines came to my head but I decide to think of the other person and replied, “Being selfish is what I do best. Please allow me at least that pleasure in life.”

But his reply stunned me. “You try to be selfish… you show that you are selfish… this fake, show-off selfishness is more dangerous.”

Made me think, did he really know me that well, to make this sort of comment? Or was I just plain easy to read? Did he know of the wet pillows at night, did he notice the far off look I got whenever I saw a bunch of friends discussing studies… did he know I screened all my thoughts and action and that I wasn’t spontaneous anymore. That I was just a shell of a person, I once used to be, trying to maintain a show. That I lived everyday filled with sadness and fake laughter, of how close I was to crossing that fine line between moving on and giving up on life…. that depression was a thing I had to deal with everyday in the emptiness of my one bedroom flat.

Flash backs are such cliché… something one has on their death bed or at really bad moments in their lives. I have a normal comfortable life. Nothing to complain about. Nothing to celebrate about either. But these flashbacks seemed to follow me everywhere… putting tears in my eyes at the most unexpected of times… times I wasn’t prepared enough to hide them. Looking at a friend’s message where he sent me a psalm brought tears to my eyes in the middle of a crowded room. Maybe because I didn’t expect anyone to pray for me… or to remember me in their prayers. I had almost given up on God… it felt like a reminder from some other lifetime…  at other times, being pulled to the front of the table, where a birthday cake sat ready to be cut, by the 6 years old son of my landlord, so that I didn’t feel like an outsider (which I was), left me amazed… Did I believe the world to be worse than it actually was??! Or was I dwelling down into the hole of self pity again…

People say that there are some questions in life which cannot be answered because they are meant to remain a mystery. Because there are no answers and all we could do is trust in something bigger than us, believe that someone up there is going to take care of everything, if we just kept our side of the bargain and lived our lives in peace and quiet. Sometimes I feel like asking, was I suppose to turn out like this or was happiness ever a possibility for me?! Am I just a broken vessel or is God going to turn it all around and turn me into a kintsugi… a perfectly imperfect piece.

wanting more…

I broke up with him. I know I love him. More than I have ever loved any other man. I can live, without him. I can marry someone else and be happy. But I also know, I will never find someone else who would love me as much as he does.

I didn’t do it because I was being brave for both our sakes. I didn’t do it because I thought I was doing both of us a favour. I didn’t do it because I thought we didn’t have a future together. I did it because I am selfish. Because I want more than love. I want recognition. I want to be able to climb the 4th ladder of the Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. I need to have it. I am too selfish to be satisfied with just love. My dreams are too big, too big for anyone else to be in my life except it. I have tried ignoring it. I have tried to pass it off as just another unreachable dream. But I can’t. I want it, more than anything else in life. I want fame, power, glory. I want my parents to look at me and be proud. I want to go beyond boundaries. I want to explore. I want more… more than anyone else… I know I am being greedy.

It’s a dangerous combination… or maybe the perfect one. I need to learn to be harder. I am going to be harder. No more sniffling around for people who will soon enough leave my life to never come back to it anymore. I need to be stronger, a better actor, a better pretender. I need to learn to hide my hatred along with my love. Its weakness, as the professor rightly said, to let anyone come close to my emotions. I too need to build those walls stronger, larger than before.

I wonder if it’s possible to let go of everything for a dream… filled with doubts… with weaknesses… with hope… but still clinging on to this dream for more… greedy selfish me, I hope I survive it all.