JLo breaks internet. I ponder.

This post is inspired from JLo lighting up the internet with her ‘Turning 52’ photos – in a hot bikini, cruising in a yatch in Capri, kissing Ben Affleck, and essentially, looking like a million bucks!
Flooded with DM’s from my 30-something friends of the meme that went viral thereafter – the one that had ‘JLo at 52’ on one side and ‘me at 35’ on another – I couldn’t help but feel unsettled at how we let the 30-something label define us.

Jokes and memes aside (which, I agree, are extremely funny, just as they are self-deprecating), the 30-something generation of today is NOT the 30-something generation of yesterday. We have kids and full-time jobs, we ‘invest’ in our bodies just as we do in good lingerie, we have skincare routines and date nights, we can hold a conversation about money and politics, AND we bake sourdough with a dip called babaganoush.

The new definition of sexy is not ‘young’ and ‘size zero’ but empowered and independant.

And yet, we find it so hard to give ourselves credit for how far we have come. Of how cognisant we are of our needs, preferences and choices.
We want to believe that we are not our age or our fine lines, but we tend to blame age for every momentary lapse of memory, every ‘tired’ moment of our day, every unwelcome acne scar, every hangover headache, and every extra pound of flesh. Yes, age does have a bearing on how our bodies cope with nature – both on the inside and the outside – but that should never stop us from looking after ourselves well. Something we didn’t have to do when we were 20, because nature allowed us some slack.

This 30-something stereotype is so ingrained in our social upbringing, we often fail to see beyond it – even though we are beyond it! It’s just the way we are wired. Making age the villain that it is not.

Yes, it is so frustrating to watch younger-somethings have the things we work so hard for. Good skin. Good hair. Good metabolism. Good sleep. Good close-up photos. Good bounce-back-after-partying-all-night. But, it is equally satisfying to have those things when they are well-earned.

It’s an achievement.
It’s realising of goals.
It’s being aware of our minds and bodies.
It’s focusing on our well-being.
The kind of stuff that turns us on.

Being 30-something is filled with joie de vivre. At a whole new level.

So, I say, we stop associating it with sagging breasts and flailing libidos.
That is not true and you know it.

We stop with the unreal beauty standards of no smile lines or no greying hairlines.
They are memories of a life well-lived.

We stop aspiring to have flawless bikini bods just because.
We get those buns of glory off the couch and onto the yoga mat – for fitter minds and fitter bodies.

We stop tagging 35+ pregnancies as ‘geriatric.’ Doctors now call it an ‘advanced maternal age’.
Educate and be educated.

We start feeling okay about date nights with books. About coffee over cosmopolitan. About shopping alone.
We can’t be happy doing the same things we did a decade ago. Change is good. So good.

We don’t say – ‘I’m growing older’. Instead we say – ‘I’m growing’.
Growth is beautiful.
And, we 30-somethings dig it.

So, start your Monday with love and gratitude for your 30-something striking personality, beautiful body and mindful words.

As for JLo at 52 – that’s going on my vision board.

Me on my 35th birthday, 6 months ago. Reminds me of a birthday wish from a dear someone who said –
‘Grow happier, not older!’

Until next time,
XOXO

Of rainfall, reflections and pandemics

So, I know feeling empowered to be the best possible version of yourself is the hot topic that’s doing the rounds. And, especially so, for women. Let’s narrow it down to the 30-somethings – because, well, you know, we have kids and chores, and jobs and responsibilities, and mostly no time, space or excitement in our pre-COVID resumes. But COVID times are looking surprisingly different for us. When before, we were surviving, now we are living. Boredom is such a privilege to us. Putting aside the fact that we struggle with keeping our children entertained and have taken over domestic chores with such might – we are finding this new reality secretly liberating. It’s mentally and physically more demanding – it takes thought and action. But at the same time, through this new living, we are building better relationships (and muscles?). Aren’t we all baking? They say food is the purest form of love. Aren’t we all looking at ourselves a little more closely in the mirror? Being fitter is as healthy for the mind as it is for the body. Aren’t we feeling moments pass? The present is all the clarity you need for a future. And, aren’t we all missing our loved ones, our friends, and even those bitches who make us feel terrible about ourselves? Absence is the greatest teacher to help recognise the energy we want to be influenced by.

But, whether you are a 30-something or not, there’s a new-found something we can’t quite describe. There is the bipolarity of positive and negative emotions around every scenario. Stay-at-home has definitely sparked the creative circuit, but it has also set sail our objectivity into murkier waters. Somedays, we just want something we know we can’t have. Somedays we accept the new normal and make temporary peace with the walls we now talk to. And yet, there is a lurking beckoning to the self. Everyday, there is self-discovery, awareness and appreciation. There is self-love in reassuring yourself – you have to grow through what you go through, and that the only way out is through. Even as the online memes make money off the home bakers, home teachers, home workers and home fashionistas – we know, there is something taking us all to a higher orbit of consciousness. A place, we are all beginning to realise is, dangerously addictive – maybe it’s called contentment? Satisfaction? Happiness?

Admitted, some things still suck. Some things make us sore deep inside. Some inspiration is missing. Isolation is no good to the social butterfly. ‘F2F’ meetings are now a distant memory. Will Sunday night dates ever see the light of day? Will bookshelves still hold weary old pages with handwritten notes? Will Hard Rock Cafe just be a cafe? Yes, life is missing its music in many ways.

If you didn’t notice, summer rains are not the same this year – that cigarette with a hot cup of tea, that romance in the air, that daydream moment watching the world go by from an open window. Summer rains in 2020 leave you nothing to smoke, nobody to romance, and nothing to observe. And, that brings us to some realisations of how little things take up the most space in our hearts. It’s not the movies we miss, not the brunches and wine, and definitely not the rush of the day – but the moments that bring meaning, and connect us to our thoughts. The disassociation from the self is fading slowly, as we live more consciously and deliberately – feeling exaggerated emotions, putting matters into perspective, finding semblance more easily, disrupting mundane patterns, and observing our moral axioms.

Something big has changed for humanity. A pattern that has been arbitrary (if that oxymoron makes sense). Some have shown unexpected kindness, which I believe is the most effective, least costly agent of human change. Some have sacrificed the self for the community, and in a war against the unknown, combined faith has to be the only hope for survival. Either that, or science. Hitherto, some have concentrated their efforts towards care and cure, the most noble of all of the above. There never was a time when suffering was so equal or so global – and somewhere, it has brought the mightiest to be more grounded, the privileged to be more fearful, and the developed to be more prudent rather than prejudiced. Today, nobody is invincible. We are all equally safe or equally not. And, that restores the balance at many levels. That humbles humanity.

And yet, nothing will ever be the same again. In a new light, we may learn to explore without abandon, give greater gratitude, find time for the self, experience joy more uninhibitedly, and love more fiercely.

In its entirety, this pandemic saga will have redefined time. The time ‘before’ and the time ‘after’. Every anecdote will be a relative reference to the before or after ‘this time’. Reminiscing and romantisizing the past will keep us going, while romantisizing the future will add a purpose to that kindled fire. I’ll leave you with my most loved reference to Murkami’s ‘storm’, because no matter what the question, the storm always gives you the answers you were looking for or didn’t know you desired – 

“And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.”

– Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

Don’t do the things I would do

It’s a really weird time in the world and where we once found it necessary to slow down and take a deep breath, today, deep breaths are plenty. Hearts are fuller – either from being closer than ever to your loved ones or being farther than ever to their magical hugs. Where once we made decisions on the run, today, reflections are standing their ground. In this existential crisis, there’s thought before action, and even after it. More than ever, there is a candid affair with this new-found friend – TIME. Probably casual, probably temporary, but definitely worth it. As every feeling is felt with deeper consciousness and every moment can be seen passing, experiences seem enhanced somehow – the good, the bad and the ugly. For many of us, it’s been a time to stop, refresh & reanalyse. For many of us, it hasn’t been straight forward and while we strive to flatten a global curve, we are flattening our own life curves laboriously. It’s what I call the sine curve of existence.

A little bit of context is in order, I feel.

Over the years, this blog has been that place where I’ve come to remind myself where my strengths lie. It’s the brave, new me. The one who has come a long winding way, growing both personally and professionally. It’s been a place meant to inspire. Positive and intentional. With feelers of love and hope. It hasn’t been scripted or content strategised to be that way, but, the power of believing in the existence of good in a bad place has been my modus operandi. Open wounds, insecurities, fears, judgements, disillusionment, compulsive negativity, depression, regret, and losing the will to fight – talking about these never made anybody happy. But, it doesn’t mean that they don’t exist in people who resolve to see beyond them. Internally, we give up time and again. But, we stand back up for the ones who stand with us. A lot of fulfilment comes from acceptance of what can be and what can’t, where your weaknesses will get you and where your will will take you, who stays by you and who you can never trust. A greater fulfilment comes from knowing that you kept your grace (at most times, if not all) even at your lowest points.

But what about the highest points?

To me, it’s the highest points that call out danger. Highs and lows are relative experiences. The lower you’ve been, the higher you’ll go. The lowest you’ve seen will always be a measure to the rush you feel when joy hits you in an unexpected place. You pamper yourself with joy because you feel you deserve it so bad. Because obviously, the balance must be restored somehow. All the strength you held inside you in that storm – that’s a strength you want to keep aside for sometime – holding on to it was all-consuming for a while. There’s wisdom in the storm, but somehow that wisdom is limited to bad tidings. There’s self-indulgence where there should be self-care – and no, you’re not naive to be blinded by it. You see it and you tell yourself – ‘I need to let go. Moderation can wait.’ You tell yourself that these highs are temporary and this happiness that fills your heart is a feeling you must cherish while it lasts. Because life has taught you that it might slip away one fine morning. For now, excessive is normal. It’s acceptable. It’s deserved. It’s only fair. All the reg flags are there, but you think you have time before you must abort mission rogue.

Tell me this hasn’t happened to you? Ever? In the slightest? That time you fell so in love on rebound. Or partied too hard. Or smoked too much. Drank because it felt like the greatest escape. Shopped like a maniac because you felt you earned it. Binged ate and binged watched. Became anti-social or overtly social. Worked too hard because it was a distraction. Chased money or success. Let a love-sick mind take big decisions. Became a compulsive attention seeker. Stepped on somebody’s else piece of pie. How many times have you honestly looked at yourself and known that excessive is becoming the new normal for you – and that the time bomb is quietly ticking in the dark.

Now I know that sounds fucked-up. But, let’s not be so quick to judge or be so hard on ourselves. We all believe that we deserve a certain deal from what we are dealt. Oftentimes, life throws curveballs and the game is reversed. The cards are all mixed up. There is no pure sequence. No joker. And then suddenly, the next card you’re dealt is a piece of the 7th heaven. It completes a sequence, it calls for a new story, a new chance. It floods an empty space. So you bet double. And then ten-fold. Until you are barely left with anything but some remnant pride. You plunge – knowing all too well this is a gamble, but believing in that good fortune because you deserve it don’t you? A gift for all that has been. It’s empathy vs self-pity – the emotions are confusing. Terribly misplaced. There are moments of delirium. And then, like a rude shock, somebody declares three aces. Somebody who isn’t you. You were waiting on this day while you began putting up that excessive house of cards. You always knew it wasn’t sustainable. And, crash landing now…

Back to the lows. Back to the sine curve. The periodic oscillation of up-down-up.

Nobody is above and beyond this process. But, some of these lessons stay on for posterity – only one glitch here – you can’t learn it from me. You’ll do it in your own time.

And yet I would say (like Tony Stark says to Peter Parker) –

‘Don’t do the things I would do, and definitely don’t do the things I wouldn’t do.’

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Stay home, keep your loves safe. And, if they are away from you, remind them often that they are so very loved. Let the continuous waves of up-down-ups not dim your inner light. If it’s a dark time, you’re probably on the side of the moon where the best music lives. With it, you’ll live to fight another day.

Until next time,

XOXO

The 30-something rebellion

How Hollywood-ish is the 30-something rebel livin’ la vida loca (living the crazy life) of her 20’s? The fact that I just typed out livin’ la vida loca goes to show that I belong to the Ricky Martin fan club era days. And yes, I was in love with him – then. Back in the day.

So, without delving too deep into the absolute pathetic existence of my 20’s and the reasons behind it (primarily just me), let me summarise. Single child. Formally educated. Nerd. Solitudinarian. Scientist dreams. No fear of missing out. Non-risk taker. Non-adventurous. Sucker for routines. Strongly opinionated. Inferiority complex & body image issues. Obsessive compulsive. Sarcastic to the point of no return. OG dreamer. Ahead of her times. Never fitting in. Didn’t get along with many girls (still don’t). Handful of real friends. Music & books for company. Occasional mug of beer. 8:00 PM curfew. Protected & under surveillance (and put that into an Indian home context). Piercings, tattoos, sex and drugs were words we did not use. Belonging to a ‘good family’, that lives in a ‘society’ (I’m not sure where all the others live?!).

This is not to say that I was unhappy in any way. I was blessed with family, love, a comfortable home, and more than enough to cater to my needs and even some of my wants. Which may be why I never felt the need to add another layer to my existence. It was, if I may call it so – flat. But, as with cold beer or hot women, flat is not the way to go. Predictable is boring. It sure might be reassuring, stable, safe & organised – but really, we’re talking about a 20-year old here and not her health insurance.

I can’t deny that as the 20’s brushed past me, my bucket list of the wild/crazy/adventurous/fun things I wanted to do someday, stretched to infinity and beyond. All I did, was to write them down neatly in my handy dandy notebook, numbered by priority (OCD, remember?). Don’t feel bad for me; I checked some of them off. And some, I feared, would just be ramblings of a forgotten life. The opportunities were plenty, but I found myself weary of taking them. Insecurities, family, fear of judgement, falling in love too soon, being focused on creating a stable future, and overall, being almost too proud to be able to hold myself back from ‘distractions’ – kept me from realising that control is so overrated. And sometimes, experiences (both good and bad), when in moderation, are the only goddamn ways to learn, weigh & forge the life you want to finally live. I didn’t want to make mistakes. But, soon I knew, I’d much rather have learnt from them.

Small mistakes in the 20’s means smaller mistakes in the 30’s. No mistakes in the 20’s means boulder-sized mistakes in the 30’s. If there’s one thing you take away from here, let it be this. Because protecting yourself from the unknown is like having a hard shoulder to cry on when the known isn’t (and will not be) everlasting.

I learnt it the hard way, so I’m entitled to preach.

But, like Mick Jagger sang “old habits die hard, harder than November rain” – it takes conscious choices to change patterns. So, I’ve tried to let go. Done what I’ve felt like doing in the moment, without too much thought or self-judgement. Essentially, I’ve been living the present. And, concentrating on getting some stuff done from that bucket list.

And, I feel happy.

But, there’s more meat to the matter. Because, at 33, you gotta do it all with grace. You can’t get away with things while you make the young-dumb-broke-single justification. Somewhere, you gotta balance the act. You don’t want to be a 30-something wanderer, you want to be a 30-something rebel. And yet, nothing’s nice overdone – not steaks, not cinema, not makeup, not rebellion.

Any rebellion is a craft – carefully planned, executed and mastered.

So, here’s some more free advice.

The last thing you wannabe is a 30-something trying too hard to be a wannabe 20-something. Not cool. By all means, do the dumb shit – but you’ve earned the wisdom of a decade more – so know when to stop, and where to draw the line. Know who to tell, and how much to tell. Know what to wear, how to behave, when to shut up, and where you’re unwanted. And please please stop saying – “30 is the new 20”. It isn’t. Just like blue can never be the new black.

There’s grace in acceptance – of age, of smile lines, of greying locks, of post-pregnancy stretch marks, and more so of preferences – quiet over loud, nights-in over nights-out, ‘me’ time over crowds, fitness over smokin’ hot, classic rock over pop, buzzed over smashed, conversations over sex, and Jockey over Victoria’s Secret.

It’s really okay. The spark in your soul and the soulmate who sparks it, will never get old – at least, not in spirit.

Until next time,

XOXO

I guess I just feel like

For years now, I’ve sat at my bedroom window on the fifth floor of an urban apartment facing one of the busiest streets in the city, and I’ve made dreams and decisions, choices and regrets, reflections and perceptions. It’s what I call my urban lighthouse. A view from the top, with a beam of hope. As I’ve watched swarming headlights and clamorous horns flitter through my empty spaces, I’ve felt the silence inside me knocking to be freed. I’ve watched the pitter-patter of rains making me warm inside. I’ve felt parts of me  fading away, and parts of me coming back. In the cacophony of the city’s weekend nights, I’ve felt less alone. And, right there, I’ve made promises to myself, I’ve given myself deadlines, I’ve allowed myself to feel and let go, and I’ve come to accept that bad decisions and wrong directions are my innate specialities. I’ve told myself – “No more decisions – because you can’t make any, and the ones you make ain’t gonna do you any good.” And, I’ve been naive enough to believe that I can live in the in-between forever.

Those dreams at the window are dreams I keep going back to. How I wished for something and how that something finally happened. And how that was a bad decision in hindsight. Then, there was another big dream painted at the same window. And how that turned out to be yet another testament of my failure. How dream after dream, I was envisioning a life that made no sense in its entirety. Ironically, how I applied the law of attraction to make it all happen, when my bread-crumbed path was nothing but dust scattered in a mist that sparkled when there was a ray of sunshine, and left darkness behind on a forlorn road when the dust settled at dawn. And yet, every one of those dreams has a vivid life – the song I was listening to, the way the bokeh street lights softened the night air, the way my hair swayed in the gentle breeze, the smile I had on my face, the faith that rested in that fantasy. No flickers of doubt, no dark forebodings. I’d trust myself, my instincts, the fire in my soul. I trusted it because it ‘felt right’. Because, I’ve read enough books, watched enough movies, and seen enough in my lifetime to know that I must shut everything out and listen to the voice inside. That’s the way to go right? But, what if that weren’t true? Where does that leave us? Where does that leave me?

It leaves me where I am today, at the hilt of the in-between. Weary of decisions, willing to put out the fire in my soul with a damp memory – not willing to stop, not willing to walk. It’s comfortable because it doesn’t demand a finality. It’s not wrong, and it’s not right. It’s not having anything to believe wholly in, but feeling content that right now, I can put a rest to my laws of attraction. It’s taking time off from dwelling in the past, planning the future or even living the present. Essentially, it’s a state of nothingness. One may argue that empty vices fill empty spaces – and even if so – I shall not have to decide on what to keep empty and what to fill – and how. After all, I’ve only topped up my glasses with peace, love or music – or all. It’s the only way I’ve made sense of my world. My reasons have never meant much else. But fate often does a double take & reminds me that apparently that’s not how it’s done around here. Here, we weigh things. Not once, but once every day. We make some calculations, and we barter only as much as we get back. We have many definitions of love – even when it’s not beautiful. We don’t believe in absolutes. There’s grey everywhere. 50 shades of it, as someone put it. And to bring this all into perspective,  is to say that where you work your mind, your heart shall rest. Would it make sense if I said this makes it too real to be true? – and impossible for me to do. I could coax my soul to do all the math, but would that make it ‘feel right’? And if not, then what? You make that decision that doesn’t feel right but may be right. While I still make the decision that feels right, but turns out all wrong. There’s never any fair-play in matters of the heart. I read somewhere that nobody knows where a journey will lead them when they begin – nobody.

After the ego, second-guessing yourself has to be your greatest enemy. And one that’s smart enough to call your bluff. As the self-proclaimed bad decision maker of my kingdom, I declare that I’ve yet to prove my hungry heart’s innocence in every matter so far. And, one way of setting matters straight is by resorting to some more foolishness, and following the heart to make another bad decision, and hoping like nothing else that it won’t let me down after 33 years of beating inside me. And yet, I’m not ready. Not ready to brave that tight-rope walk again. Not ready to believe that failure will always remain an option (and in my case, as statistics will show, with a high probability). Although for now, me and failure are on a temporary break from being deeply involved. We’ve come to a mutual understanding of sorts. I don’t irk it and it stays out of my business.

But, one of these days, the time will come when I’ll have to face this old friend again – in a battle I’ll choose to fight someday. This time though, I’ll go in better prepared. Maybe with an armour around my heart. Maybe an escape route.

Or maybe, I’ll simply win.

After all, only a strong heart remembers to hope.

And if your head explodes with dark forebodings too
I’ll see you on the dark side of the moon.

Until next time,

XOXO

Circles

I never really understood what coming a full circle means. I mean, how do you know the circle is complete? When do you know that you are ready to take your twig to the beach, and start over with new circles?

I suppose some would call it closure, or acceptance, or moving on, or realising a dream, a vision, a goal. Or starting where they left off. Or maybe even, finding something that was lost. A person, a feeling, a spirit. Coming to terms with change. Understanding that it was for the best. And finally realising that everything is exactly the same now as it was when you began. Except that, you aren’t.

Beginnings always hide themselves in ends.

And mostly, you can’t tell one from the other. At least, until a certain time. Beginnings, ends, phases in between – their territories are often murky. There are highs like never before, and lows like never before. There are fragments of peace, of limbo, of waiting for the next runway train to hit or the desert storm to leave you blinded. But, the highs – those are the most confusing, most fulfilling fragments. A high is a high because it has a trigger. A catalyst that fuels the trigger. And as long as the trigger and the catalyst are something you can control, something that is real or tangible, you are in a safe place. A happy high. Minus the trigger, can you still find your happy place? I’m not too sure. You can never really be sure. Until the day that trigger is you. Something inside you.

The lows, they have triggers and reasons too. But, more often than not, in this period of steady, slow, unperturbed change, they become self-inflicted. Living in the memory of a bad feeling. Putting your mind and body in the same situation that you know is going to leave you free falling – and not in a nice way.

Hopping between these surreal worlds of love, hate, regret, acceptance, anger, remorse, loss, strength, joy, calm, hope – can be tiring, confusing and may seem fantastically pointless. Compartmentalising, practicality, conviction, maturity – suddenly you need to put them all into grand perspective. Something that seems impossible because you simply feel so so tired. Love, life and everything in between will hit you with a few shots of dopamine every now and then, but like a shot of coke, its temporary. Nobody is naive enough to be unconditionally happy anymore. And so, the circle remains half-doodled.

Here comes your constant. A constant against which you measure your truth. Something that helps you absorb the reality around you and the surreality inside you. Something that is neutral ground. Positive. Not something that helps you escape, but something that helps you stay. Not something that you can’t do without, but something that adds beauty to what you already have (and we all have something to live for, so let’s not go there). Something that should never be perfect, but something that you can live with for at least a while. Nothing too intense, because there you may be unintentionally crossing the fine line between staying and escaping. Something super solid. Stronger & saner than how you feel right now.

After the constant, comes the most beautiful phase. Where all of the confusion, although still surging, comes with some answers. There is a little more clarity, a little more living in the moment, a little less conversation, a little more silence – the good kind. The switch between the highs and lows are fewer, calmer, more organic. There’s some balance within. It’s easier to see what’s real and what’s a part of the game you’ve made up.

This, by no means completes the circle. And this by no means promises that your constant is here to stay. Things are always ambiguous – dynamic – floating. The constant may stay, or go or change into something else, someone else. You may come back full circle to the place that made you or the place that broke you. But, there won’t be a definite end or a sure-shot beginning. No perfect circles. Just a lot of in betweens. Some tolerable, some not.

Finding a place to plant your feet (and your heart) in the in betweens, is what endurance is all about. It’s not that ‘nothing is permanent’ – it’s simply that ‘we want nothing permanently’.

You change. They change. The world around you changes. None of it is because of you, for you or without you.

The trick is to get as much ending as possible into your beginning.

Until next time,

XOXO

The Space Between us

When two people meet, things happen. All kinds of things. And even before you can trace your fingers on each other’s cheeks, there comes a grand opening. Every relationship has its first grand opening. At some point. The first awkward silence, the first prick of pain, the first unspoken conflict, the first fight. And more often than not, they bring you together for the first time.

Really together.

 

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“There are invisible lines between you and me. Lines that should never be crossed, lines that need to be respected and lines that define us in many ways. In wanting to be so close that nothing may ever come in between us, these invisible lines, when given purpose, can only bring us closer. Because when you open your arms wide to beckon me closer, I don’t want to be nudged. I want to be far enough to be able to run into them, and at the same time not so far away that I cannot feel you. As I grow older, hopefully wiser, and surely crazier — I’ll be needing that space every now and then. I’ll need to put up my tent and camp there when I can’t seem to find answers. You can light me my campfire, roast me my marshmallows, make me my hot chocolate and stare at me all you like under the twilight sky. But, keep the words for another day. You can stay close and keep me warm, but too close for comfort was never my style, baby. I’ve always been too screwed up for that kind of sweet lovin’.

But, this sacred space between us is a world in itself with its dark alleys, its floral valleys and its questionable morals. It’s the place where our shadows meet. It’s where the sparks fly. It’s where the minds intersperse. It’s ours and yet it’s part mine and part yours.

These invisible lines can mean different things. Sometimes I cross them when you aren’t watching. Sometimes I eavesdrop. Sometimes I walk past them even when you gingerly push me away. I tend to ignore the hints. I push you to push me away. But there comes a point when I know I’ve gone too far beyond the lines, into territory that should not be trespassed. I take off my shoes, hold the ruffles of my dress in my hands, and start running. Back to base. Back to my space. Sometimes, the mayhem can be averted. Sometimes, not. Words may fly and tempers may flare. Or there may be cold silences stretching into the loneliest of nights. More often than not, the burning guilt inside me makes me hold your hand, trample my ego and simply apologize. And this time I cross the lines, with intention, come over to your side and kiss away the pain that I brought you. By now, I know you have forgiven and forgotten because kisses always make you do that. You even urge me to believe that your space is mine to share, that I can walk in anytime —especially when the tide is high and my only safe haven is the lighthouse at your end of the coast. But you have always been gracious with your part of the space, giving me the freedom to look around, explore, question or even demand. The love, hope and music that we have going for us, always keeps you feeling selfless. So much so that sometimes when I want to feel you, I can just lean over and find you there, waiting to lock your eyes with mine.

But my space, that’s always been the Mission Impossible without Tom Cruise — basically, hopeless. I have guards and shields and other metaphors. I’ve never let you in beyond the sheer white curtains that the summer breeze loves to caress so much. It’s almost admirable to see you always waiting your turn when I lock myself in and unlock the vapid mind games. You patiently wait while I hibernate, or find time to love back. You respect the invisible lines, even the ones that don’t exist. You stand there smiling, giving me the thumbs up, making sure I eat my meals, dress-up when I have to, go out when I need to — all the time stealing glances and caring more than you really should — and making yourself happy in doing so. Maybe if I went around declaring my innermost desires to the people I felt them for, I’d end up like you — happy or something.

These lines are now stronger than the ones that run across our palms — the ones we were born with. In a short time, they have made their presence felt. They have guided us and misguided us. They have brought us closer, as close as close can get. They have taught us lessons of love, taken us on guilt trips, warned us when we tried to trick them and burnt us when we walked into their fire barefooted. At the very same time, they have taught us the beauty of distance, distance in love. The beauty of freedom, of time for oneself, of breathing the same air and yet living in two different souls. Of breathing together, rather than for each other.

This cosmic space between us is all we’ve got to remind us of how far we have come. They define the polarities in our world — pointing to questions that bewilder, without naming them. Unlike our physical bodies, or our fearless minds, this space is limited to our intertwined souls — merging only when we wish for nothing to come between us, but keeping us sane at all other times. Because walking on beaches, watching sunsets and feeling the grains of sand disappear between the fingers of my palms, are the times when I want to hell with this space between us. I want the tides to gush it away. I want that the horizon envelope it into it’s journey into nothingness. And yet, I want it there. It’s a paradoxical dilemma, with no right answer.

But finally, it is oddly comforting to know that there is something between us; a sort of pull. Something you always do to me and I to you.

As we are learning to fly, we may have reached for the secrets too soon, we may have worn out our welcome with random precision, but as strangers, legends, prisoners or diamonds, we shine forever, baby.”

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P.S: Recently, I’ve not been able to dedicate a lot of time to writing. Most of these narratives have been written in the past but are very close to my heart.

Until next time, XOXO

Here comes the Sun

Those who can’t sing, find a song to love. And eventually, find someone to love the song with.

Tell me you haven’t fallen in love with someone who said ‘take a sad song and make it better’, when you were sulky. Or, ‘there will be an answer, let it be’, when you felt overwhelmed. Or ‘I want to hold your hand’, on that very first date. Or ‘you give love a bad name’, when you had a fight. Or ‘wish you were here’, when you were missed. Or ‘we’ll be counting stars’, on a beautiful moolit stroll. Or ‘you are my fire, the one desire’ as a cheesy pick-up line. Or ‘when you held my hand, I knew it was now or never’, just after your first kiss. I mean if someone talks in song lyrics – what else can do you? Except say ‘Love me do’ and feel ‘on top of the world’. Because ‘sweet child of mine’, you’ve just landed on your ‘stairway to heaven’ – and here on its ‘rock n roll damnation’. You’ve found your ‘T.N.T’. So you ride out of the sunset, keep your eyes on the road and your hands upon the wheel – and suddenly, ‘you find it hard to believe, you’re in heaven’. Here, everything is ‘larger than life’ – with ‘tequila sunrises’, ‘blazes of glory’ and ‘high hopes’. You are ‘stuck in a moment’, dreaming a dream of ‘strawberry fields forever’. For effect, you might want to sing it — ‘staw-berry fields…for-ever’.

‘Little darling’, ‘welcome to the jungle’ of song lyrics.

A funny story. A few weeks ago, I met a friend for coffee and he was really keen on me trying a certain coffee blend at Starbucks (and my fixation for Hazelnut Latte is legit). So, after a lot of deliberation, I succumbed, and to my surprise – loved my new coffee. So he said to me ‘Isn’t it good?’. And I said ‘Norwegian Wood’. He looked at me as though I belonged in an asylum. But, you feel me, yeah?

Do you believe in using songs to say things?

The language of lyrics from some of the most classic songs of all time, is a language that is holy to only some of us. And hence, we say things like ‘keep me stuck in your head like your favourite tune’ or ‘let’s keep each other on repeat like our favourite song’ or ‘no matter what people think of you, always keep singing your own song’, or better still – ‘find the one who hears your music the same way you do’. We have an innate weakness for song and music references in our conversations. As strange as that sounds – we are a certain type of person. And only our type gets the magic of our weirdness. We feel elated when we quote a rather unheard lyric from a bygone era, mid conversation, and the listener knows our song or responds with yet another lyric reference from the same song, artist, album, or era. We trip on lyrical comebacks for all the musical words we sprinkle around us like sweet, rainbow confetti. We feel united with lyric lovers on our frequencies of love for all things music – and although we may not necessarily be able to sing to save the world – we selflessly drop lyrics like fairy dust wherever we go. For us —your energy is the song you save in your heart, your aura is the colour of the melody that resides in your soul, your spirit is the light in your eyes when you hear the songs that made you.

We scan souls based on their music preferences and may sometimes say rude things like – If you don’t love Floyd, then talk to the hand. But, what we really mean is that your world is a little less magical because you have not seen life with real music in it. We feel almost a bit sad for you — like watching you grow tinier and hazier from the window of a moving train — you, the passenger that decided to get on the next train only because you thought this one’s not for you. But that’s the thing about these trains — some are made for every single human on this planet — taking you on journeys you’ve never been on before — journeys that will stay with you for time immemorial, journeys you will want to take time and again, and journeys that will mould you into letters of love, stardust, dewdrops, rainfall, sunsets, moonshine and everything nice. And although song lyrics may seem only like words strung together as sea pearls in a necklace, when brought to life by the right voice, they become that priceless piece of vintage beauty on the slim, beautiful collar bone of a woman from a place of ethereal goodness.

And that is exactly what music does for me. I don’t sing or play an instrument, or understand the technicalities of good music. All I know is that some songs have taken me through the roughest, darkest days – transgressing time, lost loves, hopeless evenings and lonely nights. And then there are those that bring flashes of sparkling joy flooding back even after months, years, decades – all I need to do is close my eyes, plug and play. I cannot describe it, define it or understand it – but my connection with music is like a dreamworld come to life in 3D – I can be where I want to be, with who I want to be, doing what I want to do for those 3 minutes of that song. And in those 3 minutes, I can be lost and I can be found again.

I feel grateful to be surrounded by people and voices that resonate with my synergies – lovers of the ‘feeling called music’. I feel blessed to be a 30+ today because as the younger folk at my work place often tease me for saying ‘Back in the day’, it is true that ‘Back in the days of rock n roll, music was real.’ And I’m glad that timeline was ours to cherish.

Peace, love and music to all.

Until next time,

XOXO

The Serendipity of Falling in Love

It is true that everything has to wait for it’s time. Just like this blogpost that has been scheduled atleast 5 times in the past few months and never been published. It’s just one of those things that I’m not generally good at – writing a partially fictional essay about relationships.

And hence, a tiny disclaimer — this piece scrapes the lines between fiction, fantasy and reality. It comes from a place of inspiration, but a lot of it is a figment of my greedy mind’s imagination. It’s my interpretation of a magnanimous emotion; one that is deeply understated as being in love.

Haters of mush – steer clear.

Lovesick folk – this is your music.

“One fateful night, a fortunate stroke of serendipity knocked at my doors. This night inched languorously towards the day, stealing my sleep in its wake. As I was lying in my bed, imagining the stars that I could not see, the grass under my skin that I could not feel, and hands that weren’t with me to hold — something changed. My heart may have skipped a beat, my mind may have played a few tricks on me, and my palms may have felt sweaty all of a sudden. It was a moment I remember, a moment of rebirth, a moment of awakening, a moment of intellectual curiosity. If I had waited too long to do what I always intended to, then this was the universe gently nudging me forward to take my leap of faith.

It was as if I was watching myself from afar, in slow motion — feeling my chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm of unfamiliar notes, while thoughts became words and my hands typed in a frenzy of what can only be a strong desire to unleash an old mystery. A mystery waiting to be solved, an enigma waiting to be understood, a desire waiting to be absorbed, and a love waiting to be consumed.

The night gave way to the day, and days rolled over into more nights of innocent exchanges, deep conversations, smiles that were too big to contain, and hearts that were too full to hold back. We knew we had been planted in the right place. And come spring, to bloom was the only fate that lay ahead of us. It was destiny all along, and I couldn’t question the magic spell it had cast upon us.

Sometimes, a leap of faith, a belief in the stars and a microsecond of letting your guard down, is all you need to stumble forward and fall into the arms of grace. Because once you have done that, you will never have to climb a mountain alone, or laugh without abandon, or make choices that are drenched in remorse. Suddenly, your stars are perfectly aligned, your dreams are dreamt in unison, your reality is surreal, and your soul has found its drug. Nothing else really matters. There is beauty and truth even in the seemingly mundane. It is quiet, still, silent — except the strange thudding of the heart, making its presence felt, starting from the tingles behind your neck to the tips of your toes. In your heart you know — being so high on something has never felt better.

I’m not so sure that there is one soul mate for each of us. I’m not sure that love is only of one kind. I’m not sure if you ever really know that the love you feel is at its absolute, possible zenith. Or if there could be more? However, I do know that when it is right, it is all-consuming, it takes you places you have never been, it fills you with magic and makes you believe in strange afterlives. In paths of illumination. In shining on like crazy diamonds. In becoming one with the cosmos. In flowing like the boundless river. In leaving a lot of your reality to the imagination — turning fiction into fantasy and normalcy into nirvana. It’s the bright, blue, eternal flame that takes you away from who you are to a palace of illusions far far away. There’s more to you than yesterday; you know that now. In finding love, you have found the only feeling that touches the deepest, darkest corners of your soul — and, the soul of another that turns you on like nothing else ever will — a strange, spiritual beckoning.

Finding something beautiful without seeking it, the serendipity of the universe — never fails to amaze me. Even as you think you know what your highest mountain could be, it calls you higher, bringing you closer and closer to where you were always meant to be — as close as close can get. There is no turning back, there are no rules, no boundaries, no regrets, no questions, no judgements, no prejudices, no internal wars, no dwindling pride and no burning egos. Just a calm sense of silent comfort, of not doing but only being. A state of peaceful limbo. A secret chorus of minds making love, of words wrapped in pregnant silences, of voices that resonate in perfect synchrony, of good trips that stretch from dusk till dawn, and of psychedelia that lasts a lifetime, and then some.

And then comes the irrational fear of losing something that is so good to be true -—because too good to be true never happens twice in a lifetime. Because showing grace even when you don’t have to, is love in all its humility. Because when you choose the person over the stakes, you know you have fallen deep. Beyond expression. Beyond faith. Beyond control. You are officially in the maddest love there ever was. And life gives you a deliberate moment to bask in the glory of impossible dreams, entwined fingers, entangled souls and kisses that never feel complete enough.

I know now, that this magic is irreversible. I know it’s here to stay for a very long time. These moments are making history — seeping into every fiber of my being — opening doors, breaking walls, tugging at heart-strings, touching the untouched, and stealing glances. Because, as long as you are stealing a lot of glances — lot lot lot — the magic can never really go away.”

To the one who dreams my dreams with me — you know that even when I’m not with you, I’m never without. You know I have walked with you in the light, and I will walk with you to the dark side of the moon.

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Until next time, XOXO

2018 Favourites – Quarter 3

Oh boy. Quarter 3 has been quite the mind-boggler.

Like a fast-paced, twisty-turny, fiction novel full of intrigue, drama and what not, the plot only thickens with every hair-pin bend in the road. For the most part of this quarter, I was almost waiting for a bus to come hit me from the right when I was looking left to cross the road. And even so, I wouldn’t change a thing about it – peace may prevail where I don’t (for now), but chaos is the most beautiful form of unlearning and relearning. It may come disguised in veils of confusion, but it pushes me to be consciously present in every moment, for fear of the moment being lost in the flurry of worldly things. Capturing each moment in the mind’s eye, in all its vivid totality, has been the takeaway from the quarter, and I recommend it with an enthusiasm verging on fanaticism.

I have some strange favourites this quarter, and I can’t exactly put them into categories. So, let’s do this random, not in tandem. If it rhymes, why not yeah?

Serendipity (Tattoo)

I’ve been asked by curious fellow metro travellers what my ‘serendipity’ tattoo means, signifies or if it’s written in my handwriting. I have always been fascinated with the idea of finding something beautiful without looking for it – the serendipity of the universe. And it happens to be, that a lot of what I love (people, things, opportunities) have come to me ‘serendipitously’ – a word I still struggle to pronounce despite Google trying to teach me how. Now, when I look at it on my left arm (in a place where I used to wear my watch – which now goes on my right wrist), it reminds me of all the good things that have been nudged my way and the promise of many more to come.

It may be just a word inked on my skin, but to me, its my guardian angel. Sometimes, words do that which actions never can – they turn on the soul.

Hand-held mirror

They say a friend’s eye is a good mirror. Especially if you are looking for positive criticism. And especially if it’s got to do with wearing eye-shadow.

A hand-held mirror is your best mate for perfecting an eye-shadow look. You can hold it on one side while you work your brush on the other side of your face. It gives you a real close-up view of your lids, it allows you to look at your lids from a lower angle, and it’s ideal to carry in a purse for touch-ups. It also makes for a chic, elegant style statement. I personally prefer a wooden one, but there are a lot of cheaper options available in the market that will serve the purpose.

Let’s stop leaning into mirrors, struggling to get feline liners to be precise. Let’s only lean in when there’s a kiss waiting on the other side.

Hero Fountain Pen

‘Where did you get that!’ – my childhood pal exclaimed, while I fished out my humble Hero fountain pen from my bag, to scribble down some ‘tech trivia’ that he was so patiently enlightening me with. As if a magical sabre had been unearthed from a hidden cavern, he beamed, looking at the ‘pen that was a part of our childhood’.

The Hero fountain pen was always the one thing from the pencil box that was never shared – every individual writes in a certain way, and the pen adapts itself to its master – the nib getting smoother and more artistic with each passing stroke. And if one was to lose his hero pen, it was doomsday conspiracy into pi. Such was the charm of this unassertive companion.

And to this day, I don’t share mine with anyone. In fact, my childhood pal requested that I get a new one for him, because he knows he wouldn’t have shared his. After all, it’s not the kind of love you spread thin.

To my dismay, these fountain pens aren’t easily available anymore, except in small, unassuming stationary shops.

Jewellery – dainty necklaces

Just like the fit and style of a pair of denims, necklaces tend to change trends every season. They go from chunky to dainty to statement, from silver to gold to rose gold, from long to short to choker, from colourful to monotone to metal – and TBH, keeping up is like sprinting towards a moving train. Never mind the current in-vogue style, I prefer comfortable, dainty, gold necklaces that stay close to the neck and most importantly, don’t tangle the hair, bobble the t-shirt or oxidise. I get mine at the usual high street stores, wear them for a season and get new ones after a while. They make for a subtle accessory statement, without being overbearing. Go casual, party, or formal – they work with most OOTDs or OOTNs.

Live music

As an untimely September rain drizzles across the city, a cold ‘November rain’ finds its way into my heart (have to admit these words are stolen). The universe has been gracious to grant me the pleasure of listening to a lot of live music lately – mostly old school rock ‘n’ roll – transforming my dingy world into a starlit, twilight sky. The unbound joy and tireless beauty that live music brings to the soul is undeniably the best feeling ever. Through all the drama of life, music was the only way to run away without leaving home. And now when I think back, I see that every memory has a soundtrack of its own. Because for me, it’s more than just music. I feel alive, I feel at home.

As cliché as it sounds, music is my safe kind of high.

For the best live music ever in Bengaluru, come, jam at blueFROG on Church Street. And call me if you’re going this Friday night. #notanad

Remote for DSLRs 

There’s nothing like being the master of your own game. It is frustrating to miss a personal deadline simply because you are dependant on a friend, family or anyone else for part of your work – this is especially true if your work involves photography or videography in any form. My life changed the day I got a wireless remote for my DSLR camera. This meant that I could click my own pictures as long as I had some natural light and a sturdy tripod. If your camera can autofocus, then you can move around, pose away and shoot multiple looks in a day. Being independent makes work easier, faster and so much more satisfying.

As far as I know, most DSLRs support wireless remotes that are compact and can easily be hidden in the palm of your hand. Making love to the lens has never been easier.

App Canva

The app Canva is a saviour if you have basic design needs to be fulfilled. Whether it is a display picture, a Facebook page banner, an Instagram announcement, an invitation, a logo or any other design need, Canva has set templates that can be modified to match your requirements. It saves a .png file for you – so you are sorted. I have been using it for over a year now, for multiple requirements, and love the quality of the design templates. The app is user-friendly and requires no technical understanding of design. It’s free, it’s on your phone and it does the job beautifully. No reason to not love it.

Placeholders for Books

“If you remember me, then I don’t care if everybody else forgets” – says Haruki Murakami in my favourite book ‘Kafka on the Shore’. A book overflowing with surrealism of cats talking to people, people talking to stones and stones changing the course of time. And although Murakami also says that ‘there is no such thing as a coincidence’, it might be one that I was gifted some adorable sticky notes (featuring cats of all sorts) just before I began reading this book. And even as I read the first chapter, I wanted to go back and read some parts again. It was as if the words were calling out to me saying “If you remember me, then I don’t care if everybody else forgets”. So, I began tagging my favourite pages with my kitty placeholders. And every time I wanted to go back into Kafka’s mysterious, alternate world – I opened a random, tagged page and began reading. The memories came flooding back, the words creating their magic again and teleporting me back to Murakami’s lost world.

Subsequently, this became a ritual associated with every book I read after that. And hence, made its way into my quarterly favourites.

Bucket Listing

Don’t we all fantasize of a bucket list that we wish to realise in time? Simple things. Adventurous things. Wild things. Dreamy things. We make them up, play them over and over in our mind’s eye, plan to make it happen and fail due to our unrealistic expectations from ourselves, our lives or from those around us. And very slowly, these fantasies take deeper roots, growing stronger, etching deeper and flowing through every vein. Until one fine day, like a red scarf instigating an angry bull, you go at it head on – all in, all out.

2018 was a year of rebellion. And with it, I saw my bucket list come to life. A vacation to Goa with 2 married, childhood guy friends – something we planned since we were ten. Check. (Read my travel blog here)

It was the absolute highlight of my quarter. And worth the 22-year wait. Also, the craziest tan I’ve had in 22 years (still eminent in the pictures on this post).

There was one more check on the list, but I can’t talk about it. I’d have to kill you.

Writing

They say that when your passion becomes your job, you must find another passion to chase and embrace. And yet, my passion for writing and creating magic with words only burns brighter.

I always looked at myself in the mirror and said ‘I write for a living’. So much so, that the universe strummed my words into reality, spiking it with some love, luck and a whole lot of positive vibes. Writing for a living means that I come home with a head full of levitating words, all jumbled up – and writer’s block when I sit down to work on this blog. Creative inspiration and originality are hard to come by, and late night ‘eureka’ moments just don’t fit the crazy schedule.

But write I will. I maybe inconsistent (a word I hate to be associated with), I maybe missing a deadline, I maybe making false promises – but your love isn’t taken for granted because as someone said –

I was running out of miracles, but then I met you.

I am never giving up. I am never stopping. This is where I began. And this is where it shall all end.

See you in December for the last edition of this series for 2018 – favourites for quarter 4.

Until next time,

XOXO