Tuesday, December 10, 2013


Porthos dreams of being a bear, and you want to shatter those dreams by saying he’s *just* a dog? What a horrible candle-snuffing word. That’s like saying, “He can’t climb that mountain, he’s just a man”, or “That’s not a diamond, it’s just a rock.” Just. ~J.M. Barrie

We all want to be different. Stand out from the crowd. Without exception.

Ironically, in this universal desire for uniqueness we all end up becoming similar. We all conform - to the desire of being a non-conformist. 

So what then? Does that automatically nullify what we are trying to do? Make us slaves to a world where the drab uniformity that drives us look for an individual identity also makes us create a different kind of same-ness. Perhaps a more difficult one to fight, given how carefully camouflaged it is in the garb of self-delusion. 

Maybe I'm being too morbid. Too much of a defeatist. Maybe I should look at it through rose-tinted glasses. 

Alternate scenario then. 

People are like rainbows. Each different. Each fitting together to make that splendid spectacle in the sky. You may be a happy yellow - along with tons of other chirpy yellow's. Or maybe you are a passionate indigo - but there are other passionate indigo's teaming up with you. 

No matter. All of you still form a wonderful picture - and it's a picture that would be incomplete in its symmetry without even one of you. 

Does that picture make you happy? Well then, my job here's done. 

As for me. I'm somewhat of a cynic. I keep thinking that even to be a rainbow, the sunshine cannot do without the rain. Even to be different, you need set parameters. 

Then are you really different? Or are you just pretending to be?

Friday, December 6, 2013

If only...

Something is amiss. I don't know what. A vague, uneasy feeling - of things changing, of time running out. I'm restless, again. I'm scared, for the first time ever. And what anchored me to peace seems to be drifting away.

My head's been buzzing...with words, phrases, thoughts. So, so many things! It's so noisy...and so deathly silent...all at the same time.

It's the distance. My mind is trying to fill this space between us - and the only way it can do it is by thinking...thinking...and thinking some more.

So much in fact, that I don't know which idea to grasp, which dream to dream. Which thought to articulate first - if at all.

And if I can't make sense of my thoughts, if I cannot get order in the chaos inside me - then how can I expect you to understand? If I cannot express myself, then how do we communicate? And communication is what we have survived on till now.

So is this survival at stake?

I usually thrive in spaces where there is no set order - but here, in this jumbled mind space, I'm afraid of losing my way, of losing my ability to connect with you, of losing us.

I want to tell you how much I miss you. But I'm afraid you will find me too clingy.
I want to tell you I need you. But I'm afraid you will find me too demanding.
I want to let you in - again. But I'm afraid you won't like what you see.
I want to tell you I belong to you. But I'm afraid of asking you if you belong to me.

I don't know if I want to hear your answer. I don't know if I want you to know mine.

When exactly, is ignorance bliss? I don't know.

Sunday, October 27, 2013


I'm beginning to prefer silences. Increasingly, conversations seem meaningless.

We are always talking. Look around you, there is an endless hum of conversation. But most of the time, no one is listening. Most of the time, we are only pretending to understand. Or care.

We talk - to fill gaps within moments. Uncomfortable, worried almost, about the silence that fills everything so immediately, automatically. Like water filtering through sand. Making it to some - heavy, muddy, unweildy.

You say those gaps are claustrophobic. I say they are like a breath of fresh air. Unpolluted by expectations. If you really let them, those gaps can set you free.

We talk to each other to avoid being questioned about our thoughts. We argue and fight - about things that will hold no meaning for us by this time next month. We offer platitudes simply to maintain cordiality. We exchange meaningless banter - so that we don't need to pay attention to the voices inside our head. The voices that make us uncomfortable with their clarity of thought. Or the lack of it.

When was the last time you were truly honest with someone. When you told someone close to you exactly what you thought, what you felt? Can you even remember? If you look back, do you see words filled with stark honesty - or do you see sentences uttered to preserve peace, to spare the other person's feelings - even if it's at the cost of your peace of mind, at the cost of what you really want.

When was the last time you really, really poured your heart out?

Without fear of being accused of insensitivity
Without fear of ridicule and rejection
Without fear of being misunderstood
Without fear of the consequences

Without fear of being viewed as too opinionated, melodramatic, belligerent, stubborn, stupid, idealistic, selfish...I could go on.

Perhaps that's why I seek you out. Our tiny bursts of conversation are so easy. And they say so much. And sometimes, our mutual ease with silence says so much more.

It's within these moments that I can tell my heart to just be. And my head, to shut up.

Tuesday, September 3, 2013

Hide and Seek

Hello? Anybody there? 

Who are you looking for?

There used to be this girl who used to live here once? She had many names, but one soul. Full of joy, and hope and dreams and unending, ridiculous optimism. You could recognize her from her loud, propriety-be-damned laughter that used to ring out at the silliest of reasons. And her endless chatter - about the impossible things she would do.

Oh her, I remember her. Crazy one she was. She moved on. Doesn't stay here anymore. Just as well perhaps. She never really fit in.

Moved on? Where? Why?? She had said she would always be around.

Oh I'm sure she's around, somewhere. But noone knows where. And noone really cares. She made everyone uncomfortable. And they retaliated. With falsities and mocking laughter. With indifference and aggression. They won her trust and then tore her to pieces. Excellent bit of guerilla warfare that was. And she left - not out of weakness, but sheer exhaustion I believe.

Any idea where I can find her?

She keeps to herself now. Once in a while someone gets a glimpse of her. But that's very rare. You can find her only if she wants to be found. And she has so many conditions to that. Hardly worth it.

I'll meet those conditions! I will!

Really? Think before you commit. She wants someome mad, someone who doesn't care what others say and think. Someone who is never afraid to speak her mind, or go after what she really wants - hand the consequences. She wants someone carefree - who can dance in the rain, laugh loudly, do the exact opposite of what is expected. Can you pay that high a price.

Oh I see. I'm too late then. These are the things I was hoping to borrow from her for a while. But for that I need to find her. And it seems I won't find her till I have all of this within me. And I'm not sure I know how to go about it anymore...

And who are you?

I don't really know. I was hoping she could tell me. I used to know her very well once - was wondering if she knew me well too. If she knew that she would, one day, be me. But no, I don't think she knew. Else she would have warned me. And maybe things would have been different. 

Tuesday, August 27, 2013

My Anti-Bucket List

Not bake the perfect chocolate cake
Not go bungee-jumping, para-gliding, ziplining across a forest
Have a career that gives me no sense of purpose or joy
Get to have our perfect kiss only once
Change who I am to suit the needs of those around me to the extent I don't recognize myself
Not make my parents proud of me
Do something that makes me lose my self-respect
Die without having done something crazy, impulsive and liberating (oh wait...think I've already done that!)
Not have a pet
Not travel the world
Not write a book
Not take up dancing again
Not have a cute, curly-haired baby girl
Not go on a trip, alone, at least once
Not have a weekend spent in bed, with him
Not get a surprise birthday party
Or the perfect, stupidly romantic date
Realize in the end that my life has been a long list of deadlines, appraisals, numbered leaves - nothing more
Get to 40/50/60 and then regret that I didn't have the courage to ask for what I had really wanted
Compromise on love - though I might be a tad late on this one...

Saturday, August 3, 2013

The Tempest

Thunderstorms, sleets of rain
Drenching us, driving into our eyes
Till all we can see is each other
And that's all we need to see

Flashes of lightning
Casting crazy shapes on the wall
And we watch our silhouettes
Our entwined fingers making shadow puppets

Rumbles in the distance
Drowning out our whispers
I'm not afraid, but I pretend to be
So that I can hold you closer

The curtains flutter, matching my erratic heartbeats
The water traces patterns on the sill
As I breathe in the smell of rain-soaked earth
And it mingles with senses that are filled with you

Wipe the fog from the windowpane
See the waterlogged streets below
I complain, but secretly it makes me happy
Now you're stuck inside, with me, a little longer

I need to steal a few more moments with you
To be able to hold your hand, snuggle - and just talk
To be able to do ordinary, everyday, but for us, impossible things
Just let it rain

Tuesday, July 30, 2013

“A poem begins with a lump in the throat; a homesickness or a lovesickness.It is a reaching-out toward expression; an effort to find fulfillment.A complete poem is one where an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.”

- Robert Frost

Friday, July 19, 2013

My Russian Doll of Desires

They are endless...my wants, my needs, my dreams.

I achieve one goal - and instantly move onto another. Never satisfied, never still, ever restless. There are points in my life when I will feel that I must, simply must have something. And I go out and get it. I don't rest till I have it. And then, the familiar feeling of discontent comes creeping in. And I start searching afresh. For what, or whom, I really have no clue.

And then there are times when my desires will be thwarted. And my brain and heart are unable to comprehend how, when I wanted something so badly, the universe snatched it away from me. Those days, it takes some time for me to reach equilibrium. And ironically, I only forget the old loss when I am restless for something new.

It's like a constant see-saw. And when I try to balance myself, I am forced to evaluate all my desires, all my dreams. To weigh them all up against each other. So that I can stack them for the perfect balance. I try to see which are too heavy, so that I can discard the added weight on my life. And which are too light, so that I know that they don't really need to be my priority.

But it's difficult. Because every time I look inside, I discover parts of me I'd forgotten, wants that I never knew existed. All so snugly ensconced within one another that one desire is only revealed when the other is peeled away - either by your practicality, or life's ruthlessness.

You love someone. You fail in that love. You discard it. Only to realize that within that love there is still a core of desire. You find a object for that desire. Lust maybe. You go after it. But it remains unfulfilled. You learn to ignore that need. But those feelings need to go somewhere. They change direction and become a quest for companionship instead. If you're lucky you get it. Else you try to settle for just understanding. And at times, compromise for tolerance.

Your needs get smaller and smaller. But those larger dreams remain. And they all take up so much space. In your life, in your thoughts. So you put them all together, one inside the other, close together, like those Russian dolls.

So that no one can see, or even guess at those layers that make you up. So that you remain invulnerable. So that if someone hurts the outside, you still have some dreams locked away inside to draw strength from. And you wait for someone to take all the pieces out, and put it all back together again.

And you paint cheerful faces on the wood outside. And you pretend it's all a game. Endlessly.

Thursday, July 4, 2013

The Archipelago Of Kisses - By Jeffrey McDaniel

We live in a modern society. Husbands and wives don't
grow on trees, like in the old days. So where
does one find love? When you're sixteen it's easy,
like being unleashed with a credit card
in a department store of kisses. There's the first kiss.
The sloppy kiss. The peck.
The sympathy kiss. The backseat smooch. The we
shouldn't be doing this kiss. The but your lips
taste so good kiss. The bury me in an avalanche of tingles kiss.
The I wish you'd quit smoking kiss.
The I accept your apology, but you make me really mad
sometimes kiss. The I know
your tongue like the back of my hand kiss.

As you get older, kisses become scarce. You'll be driving
home and see a damaged kiss on the side of the road,
with its purple thumb out. If you
were younger, you'd pull over, slide open the mouth's
red door just to see how it fits.

Oh where does one find love? If you rub two glances, you get a smile.
Rub two smiles, you get a warm feeling.
Rub two warm feelings and presto-you have a kiss.

Now what? Don't invite the kiss over
and answer the door in your underwear. It'll get suspicious
and stare at your toes. Don't water the kiss with whiskey.
It'll turn bright pink and explode into a thousand luscious splinters,
but in the morning it'll be ashamed and sneak out of
your body without saying good-bye,
and you'll remember that kiss forever by all the little cuts it left
on the inside of your mouth. You must
nurture the kiss. Turn out the lights. Notice how it
illuminates the room. Hold it to your chest
and wonder if the sand inside hourglasses comes from a
special beach. Place it on the tongue's pillow,
then look up the first recorded kiss in an encyclopedia: beneath
a Babylonian olive tree in 1200 B.C.

But one kiss levitates above all the others. The
intersection of function and desire.
The I'll love you through a brick wall kiss.
Even when I'm dead, I'll swim through the Earth,
like a mermaid of the soil, just to be next to your bones.

Physics 101

Conservation of Momentum: The total momentum in a closed or isolated system remains constant.

The momentum of my heart, when we are alone, remains the same. It keeps missing a beat. 

First Law of Motion: An object at rest remains at rest unless acted upon by a force. An object in motion remains in motion, and at a constant velocity, unless acted upon by a force.

Life was predictable. And static. And then I was swept away.

Third Law of Motion: When one body exerts a force on a second body, the second body simultaneously exerts a force equal in magnitude and opposite in direction to that of the first body.

Resistance. And attraction. You pushed my boundaries. And pulled me in. 

Law of universal gravitation: Every point mass in the universe attracts every other point mass with a force that is directly proportional to the product of their masses and inversely proportional to the square of the distance between them.

We clicked. The attraction I experience is in a natural consequence of the person I’ve discovered you to be. The ease I feel with you is inversely proportional to the distance I insist on keeping with others.

Tuesday, June 4, 2013

The Ship of Theseus

The Ship of Theseus, also known as Theseus's paradox, is a paradox that raises the question of whether an object which has had all its components replaced remains fundamentally the same object. (Wikipedia)

I've always thought about this. About identity. And your sense of self. And your soul. About the things that make these up. And whether, when the foundations change, these things change as well? I think they do. And when the sense of self and soul changes - are you better, because you've learnt and grown, or are you worse, because you've lost some of that innocence?

Is the change irreversible? And do you, with time, become unrecognizable, a completely different person?

Would you like that?

What if the person you used to be was someone you had complete control over. And then life happened. And that person got changed. One dream, one heartbeat, one desire at a time. What if this new person is someone you are grappling with, trying to understand, to reign in.

Would you still like that?

And now, what of your life. No matter what happens, how things change, from birth to death, it will be your life. That will be its fundamental definition. But what if you thought it will take a certain path - and then it goes off somewhere you never thought it would? What if the object (that is your life) got replaced one component at a time - new days, new moments, new memories. Would it still be your life as you recognize it? Or would it become something surreal - a movie that features you, but isn't directed by you.

What would you do then?

And finally, what of the people who hold a place in your heart. What if the place they hold changes? What if they rearrange everything, mess up your symmetry, push their way from the periphery to the center...or somewhere thereabouts? Would you still be the same person who thought a certain way about attachment. And detatchment? Would changing the way you feel - change you?

Who would you be then?

A new story? A new beginning? Or just some new chapters? A new soul? A new person? Or the same old girl...with some unexpected new thoughts.

Would it matter? Would you mind if it did?

Thursday, May 30, 2013

Someone once told me that I'm like a Rubik's cube. Different faces, different colours - and the process of figuring me out is both fascinating and frustrating.

I've never been paid a bigger compliment. Or a crueler one.

It's a complete Catch 22 situation isn't it. If someone doesn't figure me out, I'm lost. If someone does, then they will probably run for their lives :)

You see, we tend to be essentially selfish people. Caught up in our unrealistic dreams, unmet expectations, trying to carve out an identity that doesn't make us feel like just another speck in the crowd. We don't really have the time to listen to others hopes and dreams, to take care of their secrets when they trust us enough to open up to us.

We live in fishbowls for the better parts of our lives. And when we suddenly see someone tapping their finger on that glass, we realize two things all at once.

That there are people on the other side of that glass who have gotten out, who are experiencing a whole new world.

And that we have no fucking clue how to get there.

And then we are stuck - too cramped to be cozy and too secure to jump out. We keep thinking of the life beyond the bowl. We keep imagining what it will be like to live. But we mostly just settle for the water being changed in our container.

And in all that, in trying to survive, in going round in circles, in swimming with the current - only a couple of things remain.

The realization that we can either be good - or be happy.

Be good, do what everyone expects you to do, live life by the book. Or be happy - live life on your terms, perhaps disappoint some people, exasperate others, but not be restricted by a convex view of life.

Sometimes you can be both - but for that, you perhaps need to run alone.

Run really, really hard - so that you're short of breath and your sides hurt
Run - so that you can leave the beaten track behind and try a whole new path
Run - and hope that somewhere someone can keep pace with you.

And if you manage to cross the finish line and get on to a podium defined by your dreams - then that's the biggest win you can hope for.

It doesn't matter what you've achieved, what matters is you decided your own destination and defined your own path to get there.

And if someone has run that race with you, understood your need to keep moving and kept pace - well then you've solved the puzzle. You've become more than a speck in the crowd.

But heere's the thing. Most days, we don't even have the time to figure ourselves out.

And here we are hoping someone else will get it.

Silly us.

Thursday, May 9, 2013

Date A Girl Who Doesn't Read

Books will not be the only companion she needs on most days. She will have plenty of time to pander to your need for attention. And to the inflated position you give yourself in her life. She won't get lost between the pages - or travel to other worlds in her mind.

She will not demand textbook happy-endings. She will know life for what it is - and quietly accept it's ground realities. She will not romanticize memories or goodbyes. She will not even look back to see if you are looking back. You will be free.

She will not read between the lines. Or expect you to. That will save so much of miscommunication - and cut down on random musings, 'what-if' conversations, unrealistic ideals.

She will not expect you to read between the lines either. She will tell you like it is. So you know exactly what she wants, what she needs. No more surprises - or the stress of having to keep the mystery of your relationship alive.

Vocabularies will be limited - so you won't need to watch what you say, or how you say it.

She won't hold physical intimacy up as more than it's meant to be. You won't need to look into her eyes and whisper sweet nothings during sex. She won't sit and sulk if you don't hold her afterwards. Sex will be sex. Nothing more. Perhaps a little less.

You won't need to know who Murakami is. What Richard Bach says about love. What Camus says about life. Which Wodehouse book is her favourite. Or which Ayn Rand character fills her with awe.

You won't need to console her when her favourite character dies. Or put up with her restlessness as she waits for the next book in the series she is currently immersed in.

She will not believe in magic. In impossible dreams coming true. She will be comfortable within the limits life sets for her. She won't expect you to drop everything and go on a treasure hunt. Even if that hunt starts from your couch with a hot cup of coffee. She will be content to just change the TV channel.

She will not look for the hero in you. You don't need to measure up. Her expectations are limited to who you are. Not who she thinks you can be. With her, you won't need to strive to be a better man. You can just be normal, everyday, ordinary, average.

Don't date a girl who reads.

She will demand passion. She will expect euphoria.
She will make you restless. She will make you illogical.

She will make you want more. Always. And that might make you uncomfortable.

The inspiration for this one.

Monday, April 22, 2013


to carefree moments

by what I see

with unspoken thoughts

by expressed desires


Friday, April 12, 2013

Mirror, mirror on the wall

Rejection is the worst experience one can ever go through.

Worse than heartbreak.

Worse than betrayal.

Worse than failure.

It claws at you, gnaws away at the insides – and you can’t ignore that tiny little voice inside your head that gleefully keeps whispering “You’re not good enough.”

You can believe otherwise. You can know it’s not your fault. Or anyone else’s. It still doesn’t change anything. The insecurity, the questions, the sheer distress just keeps rushing back. Every. Single. Time.

Even when it's not rejection but some stupid twist of fate. Or circumstances.

It’s vastly unfair that another person should have the power to make you feel like this. A person who has no role in how you have shaped up, no contribution towards you as a person, who just happens to be there.

But is that logical? After all, if that person is there – then they necessarily have a role to play. And if they are making you feel a certain way, then chances are you have given them that power.

Then who is really to blame? They? Or you?

And how many times you can go through this before becoming immune to it? Before it stops hurting like a bitch?

And you stop hating yourself for hurting.

Tuesday, April 2, 2013


“I see myself as a huge fiery comet, a  shooting star. Everyone stops, points up and gasps "Oh look at that!"  Then- whoosh, and I'm gone...and they'll never see anything like it ever  again... and they won't be able to forget me- ever.”- Jim Morrison

But the problem is, I might not be able to forget either. And then I will be left with the aftermath of the light, the debris...of the what-ifs. 

Saturday, March 16, 2013

I want you - and I'm not afraid to say it!

People talk
About my image
Like I come in two dimensions
Like lipstick is a sign of my declining mind
Like what I happen to be wearing
The day that someone takes a picture
Is my new statement for all of womankind
 - Ani DiFranco

Is desire only a man's prerogative?

Sex, lust, passion, the need to have someone and the right to go up and tell him about it - is that a gender-based privilege? Or worse still, a law of nature. People seem to assume that women cannot feel pure physical need. They can only satiate a man's need and take whatever pleasure she gets in the bargain gratefully, submissively.

And when women express their desires, their needs, their fantasies - then it's usually accompanied by slightly raised eyebrows, embarrassed laughter, a shifting of eyes. Even the so-called progressive men are taken aback...and not sure how to handle it.

Not that some men don't love women who take charge. They do. But then these women are hardly considered the 'take home to mom' variety. As if having a sexual drive, a basic human quality, somehow makes them a tad bizarre and unpredictable.

Today, if I like a man, want him - and go and tell him about it, I'm not sure of what the consequences will be. And I'm not talking about rejection. I'm talking about the character evaluation that follows. And that is never the case for men, is it? If a man tells you he wants you - you might say yes, might say no, might throw a drink in his face. But then you think, 'men will be men' and that's that.

Now switch to a woman saying the same thing. No matter what the response, it's almost always unconsciously followed by a 'My, but she's forward isn't she'. And sometimes - 'Oh. She's asking for sex. She's super easy'.

We might ask for it - because we want it. Just as you do. When the time is right. The person is right. Doesn't make us desperate just as it doesn't make you a loser.

And we are so conditioned, that if a man rejects our advances, we go beyond feeling mere dejection. We guilt-trip ourselves to exhaustion thinking about what he must be 'thinking' about us. But why? Why do we waste our thoughts on the opinion of someone who doesn't give a hoot for our feelings?

Ever stopped to wonder why there are such an abundance of sex toys for women, and so few for men? Nope- it's not because society is overly concerned about a woman's satisfaction. It's because everyone secretly knows, that women are not always in a position to demand satisfaction of a man and men are not always capable of giving it. It's not a physical thing - it's psychological.

Yet, the desire doesn't go away - hence the handy little tools. Tools that are bought furtively, laughed over, used but never talked about, and then hidden away in drawers.

Along with a woman's needs.

Monday, February 25, 2013

We're Just Friends

This website caught my eye...and my fancy... - http://dailydishonesty.com/

The most honest portrayal of dishonesty I've seen in a while. Almost makes our little white lies seem like something fun.

Here's my list:

Nothing's wrong/I'm fine
Sorry I just saw your message
I'm going on a diet from tomorrow
I've cut down on drinking
It doesn't matter to me
I'm not scared of being alone
You look great
I'll clean my cupboard this weekend
I want to go bungee jumping
I have no regrets
I love you

Saturday, February 16, 2013

Now Hiring

Job title: Alcohol-Induced-Stupidity-Controller

Qualifications: At least 25 years spent as a teetotaller, or at the very least someone who can control his drink. Failing all of this has superhuman self-control which he/she can then use to bodily carry me away from potential disaster.

  1. Don't let me drink
  2. If you let me drink, don't leave me alone with people
  3. If you leave me alone, drug me first so that I don't remain conscious long enough to TALK
 Compensation: My undying gratitude?

Tuesday, February 5, 2013

It takes two to tango

I'd like to dance to this someday
A dark stage - a single spotlight
Maybe a mixture of jazz, modern ballet and the tango

And someone who can keep up to my pace. 

Wednesday, January 30, 2013

Letter To The Girl I Used To Be

Come in, kick off your shoes, sit awhile. Have a drink won't you? Let's talk...about you, me and the life we are fated to lead. Let's tempt fate. And see if we can change a few things.

So that you...don't become me.

You are just 16...there is time enough before you take off those rose-tinted glasses and don the dark Gucci shades instead. Before you need to hide those eyes and all they say from the world.

But while you still dream those dreams, let me tell you a few things I've learnt along the way.

Falling in love is not overrated. You will come to think it is. And cynicism will take over. Try not to be. Love, contrary to all your future experiences, is beautiful. And wistful. Being in love, on the other hand, is a bitch. Prince Charming almost always comes on a lame horse. And he starts off by calling you princess...and ends up keeping you locked in a tower of indifference.

The only ones who are never indifferent to you are your girlfriends. You might not have one today. But going on, you will find some gems. That makes you lucky. They won't judge you, they will pick up conversations 12 years old, hug, scold, worry - but stay with you through your insecurities and fears.

Never let anyone see you're afraid. You're pretty good at that now. Hone your skill. People smell your fear - and so does fate. It's ok to be scared. But it's never ok to tell anyone that you are. Not unless you trust that person with all you've got.

Never trust anyone with all you've got. They may mean well...but in a world where the fittest survive, sooner or later they will use your secrets to their advantage. Either to make you theirs...or to break you. Either way, it's damaging. Unless the love they have for you is unconditional.

There is no such thing as unconditional love. Barring your parents. But you won't get that now. You will only understand their worth when you're sick and alone and your mom isn't there to tell you it's ok. You may think you love someone unconditionally...and perhaps you do. But the other person won't get it. And that will break your heart. And harden you. Which will be unfair to the next person who DOES love you. And you will be left forever craving for that perfect, balanced relationship.

I'm sorry to mess with your head - but there is no such thing as a perfect relationship. Or a perfect life. It's always a struggle, always. For some it's a struggle for existence. For you it will be a struggle to live, break barriers, defy rules, be passionate, dream.

Dreams will come true - only if you pursue them with a desperation and no heed for consequences. So chase them and grab and never let go. Learn from me. I didn't chase hard enough. And now I'm filled with 'what-ifs'. Start pursuing them - now! Else all you will have are suppressed desires and simmering regrets.

Regrets - at not having tried enough, at having lived half a life - are the worst things you can have. Worse than heartbreak. Worse than infidelity. Worse than a failed relationship or an unsatisfactory career.

Work isn't everything. You will make it your life in order to compensate for the failings and emptiness you feel otherwise. But try not to. Feel good about yourself...because you're not half bad. Travel, read, dance, write - find ways to express yourself. Because if you don't then it will all start building up inside. Fizzing, bubbling, struggling for release.

And then even those grown-up Gucci glasses won't be enough to hide your thoughts.

Friday, January 4, 2013

A Toast

To the new friends I made
To the old ones who tolerated me for yet another year
To all the stupid mistakes I repeated all over again
and all the smart stuff I managed to pull off once in a while
To the arguments, the patch-ups, the nonsensical laughter and the heart-breaking sorrow
To my family who never fail to amuse and love me
and my detractors whom I give two hoots to
To all the hours I wasted watching crappy shows on TV
And reading books that changed my perspective
To all the failed attempts at starting a regular exercise regimen
And the successful one at fitting into a five year old top
To all the dreams that became reality
And those that will forever remain inside me, hidden away
To the new countries I visited
and the old cities that will always have their charm for me
To discovering new things about myself
and losing another little bit of me...

To 365 days of this roller-coaster called life! Cheers!