as i move through

I want to say that it's okay. I want to say that I am walking out of 2020 with a lighter heart. I want to stay on the brighter side of the ledge and say that things are all right. But a bigger part of me is so bitter. I have barely an hour left till I walk into 2021 as I write this. So let me just be as honest as I can and just say it out loud. I feel bitter about how 2020 went for me.  When I turned 22 last year in March, I was already preparing myself to take bigger, bolder decisions and bring changes to my life that I had been wanting to for so long. I wanted to see more of the world and learn and grow more as I did so. I wanted to pursue what I felt passionate about and strive for it. I wanted to leave home and build a space for myself somewhere far off and see for myself what it meant to live like that. I wanted to chase sunsets in unknown terrains, maybe touch the sea with my bare hands, and tell the waves that I've come home. I wanted to get lost and find a purpose all o...

My brother has the softest hands I have ever held.  At 25, his soft, dainty fingers are still baby soft. A gush a wind, a change of tides is sending him off on a flight.  I hope his soft hands and sincere heart keep him safe. 

On my 22nd birthday in March, I remember I had a strong conviction. I had things to get done this year - milestones to reach, places to be, people to meet, a person to become. I dreamt strongly with passion and had faith to get through things steadily. Even then I knew that nothing I did could really prepare me for everything. But I was ready to leap, ready to try, and that felt enough. By the time we moved through the weeks in March, things felt bleak but I was still hopeful.  Hope isn't anything tangible. If anything, I feel that it's fragile - "handle with care". As days passed, my hopefulness was clouded by judgment, self-doubt, and fears. As hours, days, and weeks meshed together, I tried to find a thing or other to do. I was trying to run - just as people around me, just like time. Just like how the earth still spun and brought each day to a night. Just as the blooms in spring got drenched in the monsoon rain, eventually withered, and fell. It felt necessary to ...

Fallopian tubes. Yep. That's all I remember about the female reproductive system from whatever I learned in school. And I am pretty sure that it's because I wanted to make sure I spelled it right. I am not good at spellings and often find it frustrating to deal with them. But that's a revelation for another day. This blog post is about menstruation - about menstrual cups, to be more specific.  It has been a little over two months since I got one for myself and it has been a year since I thought of getting one. I took my sweet time deciding on this one. I'd probably have waited longer to get one had Kanchan not taken the leap and got one for herself. Once I had the menstrual cup gently packaged and delivered at my doorstep, I restarted my research about menstrual cups.  In over 20 blogs I read and the same amount of videos I watched, many shared the exact same thing - fold the cup in a certain way, make sure that you are relaxed and comfortable. I even scrolled through t...

There are a lot of things I can be grateful of when I think of the sky. How limitless it is, how open it is... how constant it is. And despite all that, it still manages to float - high up above us.  The sky also makes me want to smile at the most random moments. It reminds me of you, reminds me that I am thankful that despite being far apart, I get to share a part of it with you, somewhere in its vastness. Last night it was pouring outside and I felt grateful for the loneliness, for the quiet, for the moment. I almost felt timeless. I couldn't see a color in the sky but I heard the rain loud and clear. I could smell it too. And if I held out my arm a little, I could hold it too. But I lay still and listened to it for as long as I could.  I wondered if you were listening to it too. I wondered if you had anyone keeping you company. You are not the biggest fan of loud thunderstorms, I know. So I wondered if it was pouring where you are... or was it the same drizzle I had under m...

Sometimes I feel like I could easily give in to the chaos. Succumb to it. Surrender. But never really let go. One of my biggest fears, I have realized, is being forgotten. To be wiped out clean from someone's memory, and their lives without a trace. And it's also not like I have done anything grand or achieved anything great. Not do I have an adventurous life. I’m as mediocre and ordinary as anyone can be. My fear is ironic for me in many ways. I struggle with gaps in my memory. On most days, I sub-consciously remember Baa and his little gestures, Maa and her antics. But I can't put a finger on the details. If I concentrate enough, I can vaguely picture them. But their voices... Oh, their voices become so prominent on some days. It's almost as if I am in the room with them, or they are there on the phone talking about something entirely random and out of the blue. Photographs feel like lies to me. Maybe it's because I have a hard time trying to visualize people and ...

Dear y/n, It has been a while since I sat down to write. It has been a long, long time since I sat down to write something to you. I miss you a lot, really. I feel like I don't say that enough to you - considering how much I really miss you. I am taking each day as it comes, one thing at a time. But all of my days seem like they have meshed into one. There isn't much action, really. There isn't much change in every day routine. It has been that way for a while now - dunno how long... I haven't been keeping a record.  But I do know that I have been watching a lot of sunsets. Almost feels like a compensation for all the years I missed taking in the sight. A lot of my sunsets for the past few years were spent doing last minute things at work, or in crowded bus rides, or in long walks home where I headed east. But now, I make time every day for sunsets. Some days, I sit and watch the sky change colors, just taking in the noise that the breeze brings in. Some days, I watch t...

I've fallen for people in places. I've fallen for places with people. I've also been abandoned - by people, places and promises. x x x Often, I find myself watching over flickering lights at abandoned places. Lights - waiting, just to be put out... by the ones who left them. At times, I also tend to people who've been left behind. Left behind with flowers - waiting, just to be withered. x x x Sometimes, I wish I had a map to plot people and places. To plot them right back together... Just so that they stopped waiting and weathering.

A tungsten-lit square room that barely fits a bed and a table, and yet holds a lifetime worth of dreams. Little purple flowers bloom right outside the door. I watched the lights go out right before the crack of dawn. It was quiet. I lay awake holding on to my cup of tea - that runs colder than water. ~ x I wish I could sing to you, a song of self-love and bravery, like it's my favorite tale of all times. I wish I could send you a string of letters, each signed with quotes I have saved on my Pinterest boards. I wish I could show you the threads I have bookmarked on Twitter, each a momento of days for when I felt a little more alive. I wish I could I ask you to come in and see my plants, pet them a little and ask me about tea. I wish I could walk with you into the city and listen to your stories. The box you live in doesn't feel like home, you say. You have had a life before this, I'm sure.  I wish I could let our fingers brush as the night fell, I...

When I feel fidgety enough, I tuck my hand deep in my pocket and make loops on my earphones. I thread an end to another, trying to make sense of the conversations happening around me. It rarely helps. But I do it nonetheless. With some conversations, you can't help but be fixated with trying to escape them, or put them to an end. I have had quite some afternoons filled with monologues tiring enough to make me feel at edge. Trying to place things in order. Trying to weigh my words and actions in a way that I can weaken the projection of the forthcoming pain. Trying to make it through today so that when I see tomorrow, I have a little less to feel sad about. Some of these monologues have left me with more ache than I anticipated. Some of these monologues make me feel like I have been on this bus for too long. Some of these monologues and a handful of other afternoons I spend being the listener in conversations, I make loops on my earphones that take a little too long to undo. B...