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

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.

 

---

“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.”

---

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.

---

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

Taking my Music to Goa

Don’t be a fool for the city lights.

One fine day, I just packed a swimsuit, a pair of flip-flops, sunglasses, a hat, sunscreen and some lip gloss and took off into the sunset. I had beer for breakfast and salt water for lunch, sand scrubs for pedicures and strangers for friends. I watched sunsets by the beach and listened to the same songs all day, everyday. I let the salty air cause havoc to my hair as I leaned out of the car window to smell the fragrance of nature. I let the long winding roads take me to their secret hideouts. I had a good book for company and midday naps for when I wanted to shut off and listen to the ocean. I was perfectly lonely – nothing to do, nowhere to be, a simple little kind of free. Except, I went with two of my best guy friends on this much dreamt-on vaction to Goa – and together with the ocean, they gave me the most carefree four days of my life.

They stopped mid-sentence to look at women clad in bikinis, they treated me like an equal, they weight-lifted my beach bag, always handed me the dry towel, gave me the eye-level shelf in the closet, did not drink and drive but made sure I had a beer in one hand at any given point in time, and never let me miss a sunset. And they stayed slightly sane so I didn’t have to do the same. I knew I could let go and finally live.

I always knew it, but they reminded me that the love a childhood friendship fosters, belongs to a whole different league. It’s simple, pure, genuine, honest and uninhibited. It’s the only place where you are you 24/7.

And hence began 72 hours of hopping from one blank space to another in my mind, and one tranquil beach to another in our small, cosy Wagon R. If there was a routine, it was only because at some point our grumbling tummies needed a break from the liquid diet and pee stops had to be taken into account to cater for the obsessive liquid intake. If there was time to kill, it was only because the crashing waves, the sun, and sand filled us with a languid laziness. If there was silence in the lack of conversation, it was only because the sound of it was taking us away from the city lights one moment at a time. And finally, if there was any regret, it was only because this addictive concoction of perfect rejuvenation and intense joy had no formula to memorise – we knew it could never be concocted again.

Idle mornings with hot cups of tea, music for the soul, and light-hearted tête-à-têtes became the unspoken ritual. Long, meandering drives through the green landscape, the smell of saltwater, and the flapping on flip-flops came next. There was a variety of ‘Khakra’ to choose from – manchurian, paani-puri, so on and so forth – thanks to one of my boys who came from Baroda. There were wet wipes (thanks to me) to ensure that the kharkra didn’t get into the eyes. There was uninhibited pleasure in the smallest of things. There was no sense of needing to be somewhere, do something or be someone. When tired bones talked after hours of dancing with the waves, we headed to watch the sunset. Another ritual that accentuated the inner calm. Hot showers, and more hot cups of tea. Louder, peppier music and conversations about growing up, growing old and childhood memories that made us. Laughter, stories, fears, secrets and plans. Late night playlists of ‘wish you were here’, ‘billie jean’, ‘on a day like today’ and ‘chocolate’. Midnights that led to early mornings. Early mornings without the alarm and without an agenda. Just more salt, sand, sea and sun. And love of a whole different dimension.

I couldn’t say that I needed a vacation because I needed to get away or needed to relieve pent-up stress. In fact, after what seemed like eternity, I was finally finding my rhythm, singing my songs, and looking forward to making more music as I go along. But I figured, there’s no better time to elevate a high that already exists. It’s like you first take your sad songs and make them better (as The Beatles sang), and then take that happy feeling and make it even better. You take all that love, magic and music, and come back with more, come back to more, come back for more. Like I wrote in an Instagram post “You set a deadline, you follow a timeline. You goal-set. Do the shanbang. And when you know you are all set to light the house on fire, you step back. You know you are finally ready with all the ammunition you’ll ever need. You know you’re gonna make it. So, you take off into the sunset with your people. You do it when you are happy, not because you seek it. It brings you unconditional love, magic and music. And you come back like a freakin’ power-puff girl. Geared for more love, magic and music. Because, back home you already have some saved for you, in an extra special shot glass – with a wedge of lime on the side.”

Today, I think back on this holiday in feelings, pictures, and visions – and subconsciously, I know I have created my next happy place in these memories. The place I go back to in my head when I need to believe.

You are my best friend and we’ve got some shit to shoot!

Best friend, Sofi Tukker

PS: This vacation I decided to take a break from blogging too, and hence no post was published five days ago. At the moment, life’s currents are pulling me in pretty damn strong and I don’t want to promise a post every 5 days – but maybe every week? Let’s see how we can make it work, without taking away from it’s music.

Until next time,

XOXO

Come Into my World

Come into my world
And you’ll find me
Chasing my demons
Fighting my shadows,
You’ll see the soul
That is just a memory
Of what it used to be.

You’ll see the eyes
That lie like no other
Of a truth that shivers
With past reverberations,
You’ll see a heart
Martyred a long time ago
For reasons that never were
For those that didn’t exist.

You’ll see a strength,
A voice echoing like silence
From tired bones, open wounds
Through a mercury so dense.
You’ll find dreams disguised
As words of wisdom
In prose, poetry and prayer,
As a flock of uncaged birds
Set free over a city of ruins.

You’ll see conviction
From caverns too dark,
To lights that run in tandem
Through me and my faith,
Engulfed in a white smoke
Glaring too stark.

You’ll see sore spots
Of faces that were,
Of business unfinished,
Of bitter bygones,
And bridges that burnt.

You’ll see nonchalance
In smiles, and shrugs
And veils of sheer duress,
A classic act onstage
Of living in an endless maze.

You’ll see arrogance
Crouching in a hidden cave,
In a darkness of disdain
Aftermaths of time at stake,
Only to surface again
And protect my fortress
From prying eyes
And crocodiles in wake.

You’ll see a blind faith
That came uninvited,
Barging right through;
The squatter in my home
Accounting for what I’m due.

You’ll see joy
That wages wars to stay
Unscathed and awake,
While creatures of the night
Come out to play.

You’ll see hope and despair
Partners in crime,
Slaves of the division bell,
Holding on for dear life
At the cliff edge of time.

And finally, you’ll see love
Not as a comeback,
Not as a setback,
But as a reason, as a will,
To take into embrace
All that’s out of whack.
To take with me in every breath
To my Neverland,
Where losing myself
And finding myself
Are one and the same –
Like life and death
In a last dance by the embers
Of an eternal flame.

A moonshine not so radiant,
A duststorm not too faraway,
A sea of corals without colour,
A dawn without its day,
A barter of blood for the sun –
This is me, dusted and done.

So, now you see a mask,
A cloud, a wall, a smoke
A lie, a farce, a fleece
You see it all,

But you can never really tell
If it was me or someone
You saw passing you by,
Nothing but a stranger,
Nothing but a memory,
Nothing but a vaccum,
Nothing but a story.

Most everything you think you know about me is nothing more than memories.

Haruki Murakami, A Wild Sheep Chase

PS: I recently fished out an old diary that has some poems and thoughts from a younger, more inspired me. I hope to share some here — this is the first. Not exactly the merriest, but something to remind me that life is beautiful now. Something to also remind me that this was always my calling.

Until next time,
XOXO

Secret Conversations

Whatever it is you are seeking, won’t come in the form you are expecting.
Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

---

Every now and then, you come to those crossroads – that fork in the narrow, meandering, unpredictable, forest trail of your being. A walk that began as an aimless journey and a hopeless quest for fulfilment and finding yourself, soon begins to get crowded — with people, emotions, situations, complications, choices, and decisions. A walk to remember that should have been all about you, becomes a hotspot for every other lost soul facing the same fears. It’s these common insecurities that bring you together, and before you know it, you aren’t walking alone anymore. In a dark forest, with a moonlit path, strange sounds for company, and the faint, inquisitive smells of all things living and dead, you light each other’s nights with your glow, and this Neverland becomes your safe haven — your comfortable bedding. Every day you live, you survive, you overcome, you conquer.

But soon, you begin to miss waking up to a quiet dawn, a sunrise you won’t need to share, a day you could conquer on your very own. A memory of that walk to remember now comes gnawing at you, and suddenly you wish to run away from the crowd. You wish to walk alone — with the birds singing, the light filtering through the trees, the eerie sounds of silence filling your nights, and waking up to a bed that has no one side to call your own. As you begin running, you realize you cannot — will not — go back. Breathless, and yet full of wonder, you finally come to those crossroads. They aren’t your first, and they certainly won’t be your last.

You stand at that fork in the trail — not knowing what you seek ahead, not knowing what you expect, not knowing what you might find. But, you stand there in awe and amazement — there’s a strange thrill in knowing that no matter what path you embrace, you have nothing to lose — that you are on your own, winning or losing only to yourself, accountable and answerable only to yourself, falling and pulling up your socks all by yourself. So you walk, willing to keep one foot in front of the other till infinity and beyond. You believe in miracles, in full moons, in magic spells, and in cats falling from the sky. You believe in the absolute surreal moments of time. You feel empowered to juggle whatever life throws at you — thunder, heartbreaks, loss, dilemma, love, failure.

But whatever it is that you are seeking, won’t come in the form you are expecting — because mostly, you are unaware of what you really seek, what you miss, what you need, and what may really complete you. So one fine day, as you lay still on the familiar turf of your being, closing your eyes and waiting for sleep to take you in, your marvel arrives. The universe secretly conspires for you, as you take in all the light your marvel brings. You don’t know it yet, but this light will guide you, warm you, free you and watch over you.

Your marvel may look different from my marvel — just as your reasons for running away have been different from mine, your walk to remember has been different from mine, as has been the path you journeyed. And yet, we all seek our own marvels, knowingly or unknowingly — to bring us back from our Neverlands, to sit beside us while we get lost, to know where they can find us, and to take us back there when we need to run away again.

They allow us that little bit of a leeway to not be ourselves sometimes, to do the things we wouldn’t normally do, and to help us feel right doing the wrong thing — without judgement, expectation or interference. They may come as revelations, dreams, visions, callings, desires, hope or intuitions. Irrespective of the form they take, these marvels become that undefinable something — that strange vigour — that rare state of mind where we believe we are invincible.

And yet, our marvels become the ideals that help us stay grounded — they become the footing to our chaotic imbalance, the calm to the hurricane in our eyes, the reason to our vexatious judgements, the composure to our impulsive minds, and finally, the answers to our secret conversations with the universe.

Every single time that you escaped to your Neverland, looked up with wonder at the night sky, gazing at the relentless spark shining bright from every little star, and spoke to the universe in hushed voices — the universe rearranged your marvel a tiny bit, till all the colours fell right into their places, and your Rubik’s cube of a marvel  was ready to take on the world for you, with you, beside you. You believed that all those secret conversations were nothing but a release of pent-up energy swelling deep inside you -—but little did you know, that with every shared secret, you were attracting your marvel towards you, never to be left alone ever again, to take your side in every little firefight, to rearrange you till you were sane again.

If you have been fortunate enough to be granted your precious marvel, then you must never ever let it slip away — tuck it safe under your pillow, ride on it’s happy wave, tie it tight in little strands of paradise, and walk with it before the morning fades. You must marvel at your marvel.

And those secret conversations with your cosmos — you must fuel them with the music in your soul — keep them coming. Sometimes you may be greeted only with the sound of silence, but very rarely a marvel will come along that will fill your patio with the rhythmic clinking of a thousand wind chimes in tune with your soul.

To the marvels that show us what coming back to life really feels like –

“Your ancestors called it magic, but you call it science. I come from a land where they are one and the same.” — Thor 

---

Until next time, XOXO

I’ve got a Dream

‘Way down deep inside, I’ve got a dream‘ — sings Rapunzel (in Tangled) with all the thugs, ruffians and thieves who seem to go all warm and fuzzy when she asks them in all her spirited innocence — ‘Don’t any of you have a dream?!‘

---

Some of us grow up knowing exactly what we want to do or what we want to be — the ballerina, the revolutionary, the sportsman, the figure skater, the michelin star chef, or the bestselling author. On the other end of the spectrum, lie the silent dreamers — the ones that are good at most things, and excel at nothing. They are the dormant volcanoes— bubbling within, serene on the surface — satisfied with being a tourist’s attraction, rather than the centre of it. This is us.

We were the teenagers living in our own lost worlds — we knew we would fare square in our circles, but we never found our real calling — our soul’s drug, our true life force. We were naive, fragile, carefree, and almost too happy with our ‘above average‘ opening acts in all facets of early adulthood — studies, love, jobs, life. But in the shadows, lay still, the dreams that were never dreamt, the opportunities that didn’t come our way, the exposure that we couldn’t experience, the inspiration that we couldn’t find, and the heroes inside us that we couldn’t recognize.

Nobody knows all along what their one big dream will look like. Sometimes, if you are lucky, you have all your ducks in a row from the very beginning. But sometimes, that dream decides to show up when you’ve finally got everything under control — and wish only to lie on a bed of green grass and gaze at the stars, patting yourself on your back, for you made a good life out of what was offered to you. ‘But, wait a second‘ — says the universe. ‘I’m not done yet.’

Suddenly, the dream is here in all its eloquence – to consume you, derail you, question your sanity and rip you apart. And yet, it’s everything you are made up of — it’s every cell of your body, every thought in your mind, every chemical in your blood, and every grain of your soul. And just like that, you know what the great people were talking about when they said ‘I’ve got a dream’. Just like Phil Knight says in his memoir – Shoedog — ‘It didn’t even look like an idea. It looked like a place. It looked like a person, or like some life force that existed long before I did, separate from me but also part of me. Waiting for me, but also hiding from me.’ Yes, dreams can feel so vivid, so real — it all depends on how you assemble it, frame it, work it – it all depends on how you sell it to yourself.

Dreams don’t often become a reality. When I wake up each morning, that’s the one thought I fight. The one thought I never want to believe in, to give power to, or to succumb under. Some may call it stupid, some may say I shall be unprepared to deal with the real world at some point, some may even snigger at my gullible outlook. But way down deep inside, I know that I can attract all that I’ll ever need to make my dreams my new truth. If I fail, I’ll know that I didn’t want it bad enough to be able to abolish all negativity with regard to its fulfilment. I am the only pawn in the game — and how I fare is always in my control — one way or another.

The world is full of triggers that may confine you to your swamp of a life — holding you back, chaining you to the rails, unleashing the mind games, sending you on guilt-ridden trips, and filling your brandy mug with a whole lot of clean juice. Don’t let it get to you. Because, Haruki Murakami always makes the best analogies, and this one is no exception; he says — life is like a box of assorted chocolates — where you eat your favourite ones first and leave the others behind, not wanting to eat them at all. But in order to get to the next box of chocolates, you need to finish the ones you don’t like. You need to deal with digesting bad energy. You need to accept being judged for your choices, blamed for your indulgence in yourself, and questioned about the future that you don’t hold in your hands. But all through this, remember to keep the hero inside you singing your favourite songs, dancing in the rain, and believing in magic. Let your soul live in its neverland where rules exist only to be broken, where reality becomes a dream and where you breathe music, eat fire and spew love. In other words, stay lost, stay sane.

At the very same time, grasp the entirety of the equation — confide in a friend, observe the competition, look deep inside your framework, ask the right questions. Are you wired to do this? Do you have the unmatched passion and potential? Is your illusory castle sitting on a hollow base of assumptions? In being so lost, are you walking under the sea all alone? Are your blueprints strong enough to win a firefight? So on and so forth. Be honest with yourself and let healthy criticism be the one you go to bed with.

But, once you know you’ve got all your ducks in a row (or all your squirrels in a rave – as a close friend always says), go all guns blazing. Don’t look over your shoulder, and don’t look beyond the horizon. Keep your gaze fixed on this day. This moment. Do it better, faster, nicer. Fish out rabbits from hats and flower bouquets from blazer cuffs. Give it every waking nanosecond, shut out everything else. Call it inception — plant an idea in your own head — call it what you will. Do it all long enough, and tell me you don’t actually believe in the only obvious truth – that your dreams are your only, absolute reality.

As crazy as most of it sounds, we are nothing but flesh and bones without some hope, some dreams and some love.

So, let the hero inside you run wild, chasing dreams, meeting strangers, making history and creating magic. Don’t be scared to run, be scared to stop.

In Mariah Carey’s words –

“And then a hero comes along
With the strength to carry on
And you cast your fears aside
And you know you can survive
So when you feel like hope is gone
Look inside you and be strong
And you’ll finally see the truth
That a hero lies in you“

---

Until next time, XOXO