walking over wet grass

At what point in life do we feel it's safe to say it's sorted. You know, we are good for life, life can't get any better. And that is the point you have achieved it all. Everything you will ever need and want is there, at arm's length.

Loved ones *touchwood* sitting all around, with the smile of content and giggle of secrets shared. 

Corporate slavery, doesn't seem so abysmal, opposite in fact. Where, at what age, is it all golden. 

Questions fill up my anyway cluttered head.   

I take off my slippers and stepped barefeet on the dewdropped grass. I lay there staring at the glaring moonlight in my face.   

I'm 23. And I'm golden. As I can be.  

I tilt my head. The dew shimmers in agreement.

Wanderlust.

I've lived my life in phases. To write a book, I'd write one of so many flavors and stories. 

~The night strung together, and the stars, so distant in the skies shiver, blue, twinkling. Slowly, the wind turned in my favour. It turns again, and sings softly in my ears. The magic recreates itself. Tonight, I held her in my arms. Close, not tight. Stroking the shadow of the eyes, not distant. The infinite starlit sky danced overhead in the harmony. 
And the morning came on in its ultimate glory, flawless.

Treading a subdued kiss on life, and it takes the path it was always meant to. My soul is content to have finally lost those whitened nights. Its autumn outside my window now. Unspoken heaven of golden leaves and the smug fog at dusk. 

"Love is brief: forgetting lasts so long.
Since, on these nights, I held her in my arms,

These are the last lines I will write for her.

I don’t love her, that’s certain, but perhaps I love her."

Shifting Aisle.

Someone should write a book where the main character slowly falls in love with the reader.

I'm someone- Wanderlust. 

Faceless Strangers.

We all have that dream. The one with our faceless stranger. At one time or another, that dream about you and her. That dream you so distinctly remember and yet, her face seems faded into your memories. This dream so symbolic, so intimidating. So tantalizingly mystical. Hidden, repressed, crooning in your dream about how each of us have that side we don't show- sometimes even ourselves. Living deep within, you'll find this faceless stranger.

This probably means more than I thought it would. Stories of untold smiles, unsaid tears, held back words; and a faceless stranger.

Its something so simple, so plain. That thought of meeting someone today. Randomly, think of the innumerable lives you touched today. What if you missed your perfect dream out there in the crowd.

~Maybe he sees her again. Maybe he doesn't.




"In the story's faceless lair."
-raw. emotional. me.

Windchimes.

I hear the wind ring the bells and chimes outside the window. Here, where the sunshine falls on the bordering clouds, is where I'm sitting writing today. 
Did you forget me already? So soon, is it. Or are you actually anticipating, wearing your heart on sleeve. That would be nice to hear once in a while rather than you seeing mine. Isn't it gloomy outside, or was that yesterday. I was still at this window looking down the path leading me out of here, anywhere. 
It mustn't have been really long, has it. Must be though. Changes show otherwise. 

~Its a long winding road,
Winds around me engulf the sound of the chimes.
I seek the path ahead- i think long;
leave me at the shore,
that day, that time..
I'd travel to another land.

That's the dream knit.. in the time being.

It's where I see the sunshine envelope rain and wind banners passing through life.

photo credits: SK.

Sand in my shoes.

I searched till the corners of the world, to look for you. But here you were, all along, right next to me. Ever since I learned my first steps.

I'd run to you, playing around that pillar. You always healed those wounds when I'd topple over the pebbles on the road. My first rhymes and the tales, of fairies and fables, you taught me word by word.
I'm growing up now. I play a different beat. I sing a disparate song. You stand by, defining my differential unconventionally for my ownself. You're still the personification of the pillar I need to run about to make a day.
I'm growing up now. You take steps forward with me.
Giving this and that, and all those unsaid dreams wings, keeping me grounded, I'd have been confused but makes sense with you. It's not all dreams and wishes and plans, but also a mixture of do's and don'ts, the links, the aim, the feelings, with just the adequate amount of pinch of reality.
I've learned, to walk with my head held high, no matter the destruction to mask. Your words, your presence, 'you' motivate that. 'You' inspire that. I see myself driven to be half as inspiring.
I'm growing up now. When I have, I hope to be able to scuffling through a lot of sand.

Ps. There are a million 'I's and 'You's out there. From me, it's to all those pillars in my life making it all possible. Life isn't a fairy tale, so we get these few for just the close resemblance. We fight, we throttle each other at times. We go out for decent dinners, we also sometimes are close enough to burning a place down. A child, a friend, a sister, a brother, a companion; they're in so many roles around you. Take a moment. Feel happy.
Pick up that phone, make that overdue call.

Boondein.

I heard that wave splashing off the shore today. Again.
Stepping right out of my clockwork, speckled across the face, were those driblets. Like heartbeats, the sounds of the slight piano paddles waddling through, the spatter of the cars passing by, carrying us over the winds till where those tiny droplets reside.

It's your calling.

Querencia.

Did you say it.

‘I love you.’

‘I don’t ever want to live without you.’

‘You changed my life.’

Did you say it?

~Make a plan. Set a goal. Work towards it. But every now and then, look around. Drink it in.

Because, this is it. It might all be gone tomorrow.

choices. chances. changes. 

Sculptures.

'Weathering the endless storms
 for rare glimpses of magic
each winter 

is both,
a blessing and a curse I relish.'

phoenix

Kairos.

I make it a point to always give a lot of thought to the title of anything. It's what defines what's going to come next, what it is going to be about. In that moment, you must know what i'm talking about, what i'm referring to, where i'm leading to, where to i wish to head. But that's me.
So, this comes in here. This is the fleeting rightness of time and space that create the opportune atmosphere, the perfect moment of actions, movement and words. This is where my world turns into ours. This is the place shared in the furious course of life.

How many times would you open a book, a page, with something in mind? Where you know what to expect, where you already have the start and an end to something made up. How many times would you blindly step into the dark? Or take that one step yet ahead on the cliff? Would you?

Look around. See. Understand. Listen. Hear. Sounds, lights, people, shades, patterns. Notice. Grasp. Capture. Save it.
Think, how many of these are willing to take that sealed road ahead?

Dive into the ocean. Breathe.
Dig into the snow. Feel the chill down your spine.
Step out in the rain. Smile at the offer of a shared roof.
Plan. Breakthrough.
Jump off a cliff. Skip a heartbeat.

Watch life through the lens.
'Be the dark side of the lens.'

eyes of a wayfarer.

Ubuntu.

In an age where most of us have lost touch with the life and rhythm of magic, the cycle of the year is a sure way back into the Center of Life. 

This tale has been told since generations. Its that time where out of the greatest darkness, the light of the world is reborn. Here forth, the light grows and the hours of darkness will begin to slowly lessen. 
Marking open fire to this darkness, even though the days were smaller, there was hope and joy lighting up the house. Gathering around for that story, the fairy tale, I'd glow up in the light of the stars. As I grow older, I take my mother's place as the storyteller, and it's my turn to tell you the tale of generations. 

It's a story about the inevitable cycle, the journey of birth, growth, fulfillment, decline, death turning back to birth. Darkness has forever remained a puzzle, a riddle calling out for an answer by itself. An impression on sight, a slight tickle to awareness as it fled by, darkness came along with premonitions of its own. I never feared it, I'd always say instantly. Somehow, it made me appreciate the daylight so much more. Someway, it made light breaking through cracks seem so magical and beautiful. But people didn't see it,  they grew accustomed, they came on accord with this change. So they missed the darkness taking over.
Darkness deepened. Chaos and mayhem drowned the town. Stumbling around the dark, people began to lose sight of just about everything.
A woman, neither old nor young, longing the shimmer of the light in her eyes, in memory of the lights, saw what no one in the land saw. Her children, neither bairn nor big, had that light in them, that light which imbibed her own soul. But it was growing tougher by the day to fight the dusk. So, to return that light in their soul to her children, she committed herself to set out on a journey. A journey to travel in search of the light amiss and implore it to return to the land it once inhabited. With no conception of how long it may take, she wanted the children to take care of each other, to love each other, and remember her love for them each day. 
Despite the agony of leaving the two behind, she set out into the cold lonely winter night. Walking past the dreary dew dipped grass, she sang to the light she remembered. Dimmed by the richness of the night, the stars and the moon in the heaven above sang in her glory, her journey. Rejoicing in the thought of finally seeing the light again, she finally reached the outskirts of the land.
But what welcomed her was more of an appalling image of bedlam. Dug up fields, lost animals, uprooted trees, she saw houses being dismantled and everyone in a rush, in desperate hunt for something. That was the land of lost gold. But there it was, right in the middle of everything, the patch of green, a single bare-branched tree. And midst below the tree was the summer sunrise to the world, unnoticed, unseen by the peers in the dark. This wasn't hers to keep. Before moving on with her quest, she spotted someone out there. With the eyes of a dreamer, he seemed to be building a house, a home. She defined the hazy ray of glimmer to him, making him promise to do up the entire land as his home.
Asleep beneath a tree in the woods, she dreamed of the moon descend down from the heaven and bury itself deep below a tree. She awakened to dig up the ground to have found a crystal pear, at which point the villagers raided in and shattered every last bit of it. 

Finally awake, out of her dream, in hope for an answer, she found herself step into the underworld of dreams and imaginations. It was different here, even the darkness felt warm, nothing like the world above. She walked in deeper, she saw flower buds snug in, just as she tucked her children in. The rivers and streams so pure, flowed through crystal rocks. The stones, so gorgeous rivaled the most beautiful of sunsets and gemstones. Past all this, she walked till the center of the earth. In that dark cavern, in the purest of watery depths, she saw the luminous light. Gazing, in the heart of the shining halo, she saw, a child, the most wondrous and innocent one. Just as mothers do, she smiled at the sight of the child enveloped in the light. The child smiled back and she heard as though a child's voice whisper, "I have waited for you so long! How glad I am you have finally come."

~It's a story about Grace. Grace, it's a gift the Spirits bestow on all of us, whether deserving, or not. It is that unexpected, unmeasured gift of Love. 

Stories.

So, that's how it starts. In a random phone call, middle of the night, all teary (maybe crying, hopefully laughing).. but however, it led to this, couldn't be that bad.

It all happened a couple of days ago. A bright sunny day, the clouds had finally given way to sunshine. She sat pretty with the sun shining up her face. With the glitter in her eyes, she soared up towards the horizon. Somewhere on the way, the doors to a home opened up. Most as soon as she found solace in a perfect corner, is when the war broke off. It must have shattered her heart to not be accepted with open arms or an open heart. But the keeper had to establish boundaries. It was a necessity, more of an involuntary thing. It's that feeling of your space, your zone being invaded and the lengths you'd go to to protect it. So that's what they both did. She protected herself with a smile, that's all she has. And the other arguing the mind and heart, trying to understand this newcomer- to share home.


~All our stories don't always have a happy ending. Freedom, acceptance and revamping; takes time and grit.

The bird was a passerine. 'Is' a passerine. She flew in that day and decided to stay. The not-dog Hazel fought while the little mocking bird sat up the window sill. It was quite a sight really, seeing them play catch and cook around the house. But she refused to budge and leave the house, or fly off. Some of us are nesters. After half an hour of rigorous chasing and fighting amongst the two, they finally decided to take a break. All this mostly went about in my room itself. We made a video of the not-dog trying to fly up to the funny-bird plonked on the paddle.
Well, end of the day, we are all friends and I stay with a not-dog and a not-bird. One still lying lazy next to the bed, and the other still sprawled idle on the paddle.

Ría.

Blank. Absolutely blank.

And there are such times too. Funny how we keep harping on never having our minds without a thought in it, and still find ourselves with that dazed expression staring into nothingness and space. What’s that one specific thought setting you into the transition of trance. (It’s a question.) That one last thing you seem to recall before driving into the sunset.

So, this is new. You can write with a blank mind too apparently. That’s a first. What’s it about, all the chaos and rush around that’s making words pour out. Past nights and storms, dawn came around eclipses.

~Change is my constant. 

PC: Gauree Sharma.

Infinity.

Stages in life, one must see, feel, think and get par.

One. Start the dream. Step into the purity of it, the vividity merging deep into each sense. It's there to take over, to break past what's real. Helpless, willingly, hold the hand and walk.

Two. It's on the way there. Somewhere. With eyes closed, and a shy smile spreading through the darkness, it condenses that sparkle.

Three. Life, becomes the dream itself. The sunset, the sunrise, even the midnight. Heights taken, clouds shrouded, its the catch to the blind fall. Roll in into arms of colors, patterns and lights.

Four. Tap on the bridge between visible and invisible. Even the dense nightfall brings out its fireflies. Magic, is all around, bridging that gap.

Five. Fairy lights, slow dancing in the burning room. All elements ablaze, the chill in the water doesn't break the fervor in that fire. Mirrors reflecting the union, the collaboration.

Six. Walk down the aisle (the dream is coming, for you and for me). Magpies carpet the way. Daffodils carve stones. Sun drops down snowflakes. Names are written to evince.

Seven. Infinity is to infinity. Seep into the state of trance. Its taken over completely, without a cell to breathe. Belongings, are already declared.

Eight. The last kiss on the lips. Dreams as these don't end. It grows. Its growing. Raising its child. Hustling through the thunderstorms to keep that child breathing.

Nine. Slip away. Soul-mate, the prodigy. Years of patience, and its here. The joy, the elixir beyond, free of the poison. Life, breathing slowly into dream (and it awakening the life in me).

~These eyes still inhabit glass castles, dreams, magic, fairy dust and a Prince Charming. Tears still haven't welled up in these eyes. There's nothing for keeps, so these live in memories what came by, and dreams and illusions of them. Look closely, and one may find what they never should. Stare as much as they wish not to. Mirrors shimmering in the dark, these eyes will always smile. For that dream.
"Da cosa nasce cosa."

All roads lead to just one heart. Mine.
Fall in love with it, and it'll keep you alive for the rest of eternity beyond this life.

Solipsism.

~Words.

It's probably just this time of the year.  Maybe it's all just in my head. Maybe a bit of it is out there. Even though I do see most of it. Isn't seeing believing? Maybe it's just me.

Stare into distant space; recalling memories, remembering experiences, the adrenaline rush, the push, even the pull. Uncomplicated dreaming, there were times one would just sit and wonder and maybe knit togetherness. Maybe, who am i to say or think or need or want. But that said, we are all here living for that just one thing- 'uncomplicated dreaming'. In your head, and in mine.

Acoustic version out, starving for restart.

photo credits: Sharanya Sridhar

PS- I complete a year here. With tears of happiness and sorrow still trickling down strong, a lot was lost and more was gained. I cherish what i had, and love and treasure what i now do have. I stand here wishing things maybe a lot different, but i'm just so happy being here, standing where i am, my space, I'd never change a thing.
Staring into distant space, still, even today, recalling so many memories.
I'm dreaming about what's next.
It's time.

(I'll be here.)

Destination.

"Life is a journey, not a destination."
-Ralph Waldo Emerson.

~I fall short of words just merely thinking about the journey so far. Decades, years, months. Moments. So many I think, I was sure I felt I lived my life in. I was so so sure, and yet, at the next turn was something that absorbed me in.

Just so many times in the past few days last month I'd open the page and try, honestly, to get those right words, frame the picture perfectly. I'd hope you'd see what i don't say. That's about it. Today, i don't have anything to share. Today, i don't have any tales to tell. Today. Today, i'm all about excitement, amazement, reckoning and expectations.

dark side of the lens.

*counting days.

Dreams.

Day 45.

In my footsteps- Chapter 2.
Remember the first article on 'In my footsteps'. A happy proud thought. Here's another one in dedication by the same author as last, my little one.

Dreams.

Dreams. A magical place where one finds an escape from the harsh reality of life. A place where you find joy and happiness, peace and contentment, or perhaps, terror and pain. It's a beautiful concept. Even with the eyes closed, we are able to see a world so mysterious, so marvelous, yet when we wake up, it so happens that we are unable to recall those moments.
After a long day of hard work, when one falls asleep, the mind relaxes the body by the amazing pictures of the subconscious. What we see, what we hear, the smell, the touch, everything our mind stores in the subconscious, revealing its secrets only in the form of dreams. A troubled mind would many a times cause a nightmare, in which the person lives his fears. Terrible dreams, beautiful dreams, dreams of pain, dreams of happiness, the nightmare of losing someone or the excitement of falling in love. What you think, what you feel, is what you see in your dreams. Dreams are merely messages from the subconscious mind. A person, guilty of some crime, would have troubling dreams. A person, content with his life, could have a peaceful dream. Students my age? Well, we just have exam terrors! Dreams, or actually nightmares, of missing an exam, sleeping through it or falling ill. We see what we fear. We see the fear coming true, but its only imagination. Its the time we let our imagination run wild, having no control over it. That's the beauty of it, not knowing what will happen, the unknown is what makes it so interesting. The mystery is what makes it magical. Yet, some people do practice controlling their dreams. Its called lucid dreaming Risking their lives, as there is a danger of complete paralysis, the person tries lucid dreaming so as to gain control of their dreams.
Dreams are, many a times, absurd, completely random. Suppose, as an example, you might just have a dream of playing football with a bunch of ghosts, or perhaps, jumping from tree to tree, like Tarzan. You could even sit and chat with Newton, under an apple tree! It's all up to your subconscious. If your subconscious is in a good mood, well then, happy dreams, but if in a bad mood, get ready for the worst roller coaster of your life.
Dreams are not only caused by the subconscious mind, but we, consciously dream a lot of dreams as well. The aspirations, the desires of our hearts. A dream to be happy, a dream to be successful. The dream we see with open eyes. We study, we work hard, why? To achieve what we desire. We aspire to be successful, to have a happy, content dream. A joyous life is everyone's dream. We want to be something in our life, maybe like our idols, maybe someone different. Some want to be doctors, some pilots. It's their dream. A mother's dream is for her child. A dream where the child is secure, safe and happy. A father's dream is for his child's future. A student's dream is good grades, therefore a good college. A lover's dream is to be united with his love.
Dreams are beautiful. Dreams are dark. Dreams are scary. Dreams many a time, leave a mark. A mark on us, a mark on our minds.Dreams are nothing but a figment of our imagination. The ability of our minds to think something so beautiful, so colorful. We all have a dream, we work to make that dream come true, and when it does, our heart alone knows the exultation it feels. Dreams are like books. I believe, we live two different lives. A life so harsh tat it makes us weary, and another, of magic, mystery and uncertainty. Dreams are both, conscious and subconscious minds which are uncertain, vague, but are equally endearing. To dream a dream with open eyes, to think of the success, the happiness, excites us. Dreams we see with eyes closed are equally terrifying. They are terrifying, for we don't know what to expect. It's the fear of the unknown that excites us, thrills us. Like books, these dreams take us to places completely new, places made up or maybe places we desire to go to. Similar to books, we find a mixture of feelings in them, sometimes joy, other times pain.
Dreams of the future, of the past. Dreams of oceans, or deserts vast. Dreams black, dreams blue, dreams of all beautiful hues. Magic is withing your mind, your heart. Beauty is within you eyes. Dreams are, well, a composition of all these, and the element of mystery. Let the imagination run wild. Dream and make your dreams turn into reality. Live the dream and feel the contentment, the satisfaction. Walk towards the dream, clutch it in your fist, and show the world your achievement.
Dream, because dream are life. The numerous different lives you live, everytime you dream. Dreams are escape from the madness of life, yet in dreams, we live an unknown life. A life based on imaginations, a life based on our feelings. A life we don't fear, because we know it's not real. Or maybe what we are living right now, this life, is merely a dream and when we die, we actually just awake from a long slumber. Interesting as it, it depends on the mind, what you think of dreams. Dreams, forever, shall be a mystery, as life is.

-Ananya.

Unnoticed.

So, back into bedlam. It's a day of chaos, catching up, clutter and customizations. But then again, it's a Thursday. Aren't they just meant to unload-load.
A space where students are panicking running to their exam centers, and teachers to last minute hope for them. Also, sharing space the love-hate relationships of your work environment. What you think of offloading may just be taking you towards overloading. Just a scenario. So what between this hustle bustle, this mid-week braindeath. Oh! Did I forget to mention emotions of anger, exasperation, depression flavored perfectly to go with the want and desire to kill, murder, slaughter, maybe even die. Due respects to each one.
Anyway, turn around, there is a place called home where hopefully sun's shining and poppies are blooming. That long drive back. That tiring journey and walk through the forest. That frustrating sound of honks gelling with incessant chatter over someone else's shoulder.
Wonder. Ponder. What of guarantees.
~So, after struggling through a tough Thursday turning me down, I have the never-ending train ride to look forward to.
No, seriously.
But talk of bumping into bliss.
Sometimes, we, you and me don't realize how a day comes crashing onto us. How the turn of events in your life affect, influence and change the others. That vicious cycle of cause.
Dad says, "its always your choice". And that's how I came to believe of it.
In that packed train of people, some on phone, some amongst themselves..some unpleasant, some silent and others mostly just indifferent..there was this one in a corner. Nothing special about this one, just plonked on the floor clutching to a bag that seemed important. Trapped in my own web of thoughts, I happened to glance over. Found myself greeted with a warm smile. That's it.
That's all it took to repair the broken pieces of a tiring Thursday.
That unnoticed stranger.
The countless days of happiness.

Ceramic dolls.

Day 36/40.

Ethically, these aren't days and issues to be included and made a part of one's happy-days. But somethings are better recorded and a word spread out than kept buried within. Days, more often than not, do set into the dark night.

Silence. Withdrawal. Anger. Humiliation. Shame. Retirement.
Emotions overwhelm at sights and expressions. Stories untold, hampering progressions and one pulls out all other.
It's how my blog's always had tales from my days to share and known. So, what do I have today. I have one from the haystack you have been a part of. Surely you are unsatisfied with the country's political situation today. What are you doing about it? Of course, how are you not disturbed about the financial condition of the country. How are we resolving it? Certainly, aren't we deeply upset about the economical setbacks. Who's going about coming to a solution, or even trying? Tell me what you voice out.
Crime against women. 45351 molestation cases. 24923 rape cases. 9173 sexual harassment cases. Reported. 24 percent conviction rate for rape in India. 20 years maximum prison sentence for rape. Step out of the circle of violence. 98 percent of the victims know their attacker.
Disturbing facts? Did you report from your share.
Put this statistic into perspective, any women around you, your mom, your sister, you friend, niece, cousin or even the one right across the couch, one out of three is sexually assaulted or been harassed.
That's all bad.
That's all a fact.

So, my question. How is it that we raise the issue and commit to it.
It's just something I wanted to raise. To readers, to people in general and get an answer along with a panorama widespread. To build upon, when it happened in my vicinity I did what was in my power to put a stop to it. To support further, I had the reinforcement of authority to voice it out as loudly as one could. In hope, in optimism, the ones out there take an example, as I did.

“I wish I could have saved her,” he says now.
~Nirbhaya case.

Snowfall.

Day 35.

~A hand on my shoulder
A smile on my face
Incredulous
The way things fell into place.
We, each came here with a dream

Your dreams, here, are not yours alone.

The Peanut Express.

Day 22-uptil now.

AWOL. are we on leave O.o
So, back from the work vacation to blog. Been one hell of crammed best days. A part of me just doesn't know where to start from. The other one, well, that one just wants to climb up your head, dance and tell you all about all the dimensions of madness.

To start with, January 31st saw me be a part of the Indian Arts fair with one foot stuck in ComiCon and the other jammed with work. So, the Indian Arts Fair. I didn't realize what art is before that point of time I guess. Owe so much to that tour with Sharun. I mean, the bee-hive worth 3 crores; and if that wasn't enough what was that wall with mirror-ed red stripes. And mind you, that wasn't the best part. Best was meeting the border-line measures on that rod. Its worth over a crore. Yeah, that's that. I'm in half a mind of turning into an artist. Particularly because at the end of that event, THAT rod, it was sold off for its price. I'm inspired.
We eventually 'Escape'd into the arms of free beer, 'comic' people and punctured tires.
Next day had to, at any cost, see me up and about at 5am to hit the road. So, after sleepless night of 4 hours, I bid farewell to Delhi for the day. Peak of my day this February 1st, I made it sharp in time for the year's engagement. Here, the party actually never stops. You find yourself jumping from ground level to stage 1 to the final destination of decks. My day goes from a 5 to 5 am shift.

Turn around, and I'm back to the fair with a bang. Who knew Sundays could see me sitting sipping wine and olives amongst vada-samoosa-pav. That's my February 2nd. Between caught up fun and friendship, there's so much fire.
My Sunday too, like yours, yesyes, exactly that, set into a Monday. I alternate between Delhi and outside. So the road called out and 5 am alarm sloths were out again. And this day took three to do the tango. Heading back, did I tell you about whacked up friends driving me around the city streets 'making sure' I get to a long awaited wedding. What happens at a wedding, stays within there. *shush*

So, we're down four days of rush-run-race and wakefulness. February 3rd was done with and 4th was the last one tracks hopefully for a while. Ask me what happiness is, and that's what it is. Even if it means not going cosmogyral. I loved what came next. Sleep-wakeup-message-sleep-sleep-sleep and sleep a bit more. Joy, that's joy.
That's my rejuvenation for the weekend coming up. My Peanut sorcery. With yellow all over, this was hands-down one of the best of the 100 days.
Friday-Saturday-Sunday.

Sketchy-peanuts.

I'd land up writing a book if I start telling you about each memory made. But, to brief, Chuck and Snoopy were elements of happiness, friendship, fun, crazy, trouble, surprise and so much more. From the introductions to farewell hugs. Overwhelming. From the supervisor-scarecrow pranks to random museum visits. Overwhelming. From giggles to games. Overwhelming.

~Mad as a hatter.
The outraged 'DoNotTouch' signs and kids away with the fairies. There's a story to it all. The early Sunday greeting of dancing music mates, racing rims and hyper hysteria; there's a whole lot to it.
What's more, the trippy walls, space-bars (which is my favorite part, btw), stolen badges and super sketches.
Oh, did I tell you, THEY ARE NOT UP FOR SALE. Exibits amongst everything else. #iykwim

on the wall.

So, what was it about the Peanuts Express that makes it so amazingly awesome. The thing about Peanuts is, that willingly-unwillingly, it makes you a part of it. And that's exactly what it was. Is. Making everyone a part of it. In ways you couldn't and wouldn't imagine. And what was I doing here, well, I was leading the gang-way.

Do NOT Touch.

Six of these skeletons in the closet. That's all it took for ComiCon to happen and take twists-turns-topples we took.
It's a team effort, I'd say.

Orange Lemons.

Day 21.

And you're a part of my day, again. Hah.

Lots of things to be happy today, people. Where do i start, where do i start!
Ok. Let's go one at a time, atleast let me try, where's the harm. So, after crazy mad strenuous days killing my back, I had today all to myself to take it slow. I don't even need to tell anyone out there how that feels. And, I've never enjoyed my cup of bed-tea more.
Morning set in, the day panned out into a relaxing session.
Home seems like home again. Wedding pomp and show is all up finally, and my bandwagon seems to be in place with the madness dimensions. Oh! How I've been looking forward to this.
Another one out of the blue showed up, old memories and traces crawled their way to new smiles. Smiles earths to the ship. Sending them all your way.
So. Snap out of it. Tip of my day. Yes, its the oranges. Me, an engineer; and her, a people's people out of the world. We, together, the unstoppable, the invincible team, after a struggle of 20 mins with a plain simple juicer finally, FINALLY managed to figure our way around it.
"Rupa takes less time." O.o  (i wonder)
Those tortured and slaughtered oranges, along with the beaten up eggs; I had the awesumest dinner. The cheese omelette couldn't taste better, the orange juice couldn't refresh me more, and the company was as always the best and fed.
Can't miss out the recorded coded expressions learned about. Lesson#3498256264357 : don't ever give missed calls. Like ever. You never know what you invite and which demon you may unleash. Seriously.

oranges and lemons.

In too deep.

Day 19/20.

Its one of those times, those days where only you yourself can save yourself. Thinking back to that morning when I wished and hoped for this one where I'd have not a stop gap second to sit and just ponder. What if I told you I'm standing here, thinking back, knowing, believing, seeing, cherishing every dream from back then. I wonder what it'd be like.
Running here and there and everywhere, I'm making my life happen. Out on the move in a snap moment, I'm living for myself. Falling in, and also falling off, I'm walking with eyes open into clouds.
I'm out on the edge, and i'm screaming out my name.

zoned out.

Comedy of errors.

Day 18.

I'm told to be a person attracting trouble and disaster by itself somehow. Whatever proof was needed, I guess my day 18 did it all. I can't help but laugh thinking about it.
So, that's how my day starts, with the loving hyperventilating boss on the other end of the phone. Everyday, every morning. Yes, she apparently loves me so much more than the bouy. Tchtch, competition. (take that)
Yesterday was a wee bit panicky for everyone though. Both parties on their tiptoes. So, I hit the road. Actually it was the rail. Where was I off to? Well, from this end of New Delhi I was to reach the other one. Places I hadn't even ever heard of in the 5 years I've been here, were soon going to have the special honor of having me there. Heading out with no idea of the route to take and a phone beeping with low battery, the day called for a memory of sorts.
Dingading. Two hours later; one hour late for the meeting, post getting lost at metro stations, changing about three metro lines and vada-pav metros, I finally got where I had to be; at the metro station I mean, still not at the venue, that's another one for another time. So, one hour late for a meeting, I step into this plot and feel no less than Hansel-Gretel at the witch's palace. Phone, update on that, that was dead long back. My boss' love had no way of getting to me. Dammit.
By the end of afternoon, I couldn't wait to step back into that godforsaken 2 hour rail-ride, again, vada-pav-ed, not to forget. But things were panned otherwise for me here. My absolutely amazing government had found this day only to nikalo all their jaloos (take out processions for all you angrez out there). So, the metro remains shut for 4 hours. News Flash. Supercool. To add icing, I found myself right in the middle of the stampede in the basement of the CP station. Struggled my way out to be turned down by 50 million auto-walas. That, was the cherry on the cake.
So. 6 hours after leaving my place, after bumping around half the city, reaching late for a meeting, hopping back and forth between offices, clam-baked in metros, being a part of a stampede and fighting with half the city's auto people; I was finally home.
Due dancing over my head was my next meeting and a crazyass-late-lying-'friend'.
What's amazing is I managed to still pull off the day, yet another day, with all the bedlam. What'd life be without the drama!
And that's just the beginning of the drama.

feet-credits: Das.

Shamiyana.

Day 17.

Day 17 needed some time, space and sleep to sink in. Remembered starting my blog back in April and the emotions that very day.
"And then, I did something I have wanted to do since a long time; I ran towards the gate and out of it, without as much as a glance", were my words to quote. From there till my day 17, this is what changed.
So, what happened on day 17. What I had willingly run away from 10 months back, exactly 10 months back (not to miss); I, on my own accord walked towards it all. There was that day of happiness at levels unexplained, and then there was day 17, a 100 days of happiness episode. Emotions so similar, too, can be so varied, so wide apart from each other.
Satisfaction. Peace. Joy. Memories. Happiness. Togetherness. Reconciliations.

So. that's what I did my day 17. I stepped out.
Out of my shell, out of the hiding, out of the cocoon, the walls I had so carefully built, to take the trust fall to be only held. I didn't fall. I stepped out without an armor. And as the sun set, a new me is what I found to rise above it all.

"Bottom line is, even if you see them coming, you're not ready for the big moments. Noone asks for their life to change, not really. But it does. So, what are we, helpless? Puppets? No. The big moments are gonna come. You can't help that. It's what you do afterwards that counts.
That's when you find out who you are."
-Joss Whedon.

shamiyana.

100 days of happiness- Preambled.

Day 16.

It is republic day.

Democratic.

'Wedding Extravaganza'

100 days of happiness- Day 15.

So, post wedding spins a were still on a high when another one got aligned. And to add the family flavor and spice, 'the sister-in-law' uploads the entire extravaganza unadulterated.
In a split span of every snap I relived each passed moment. I went back to the TOI interview day, lunch at Big Chillz, venue hunting plans; through the first club-hit, birthday park meet, clothes stalk-chase-dally; to see plans formulate into something so beautiful.
Put a tireless smile on my face, you two make me fall in love with the idea of it itself.
~Also, I realized today, the passage is a gradual one from an inspiration for what this page, this blog is, from a friend, to a family member, a mentor, to most of all a person whom I look up to. I owe a lot to this, and it all makes me really glad it is you.

I've come all the way from 'Transitions' to the 'wedding extravaganza', and its been one hell of a journey!

photocredits: Nikhil Kapur

100 days of happiness- milestones.

Day 14.

There's this, this that (past-present-future) has-is-will be the happiest milestone.
My little cupcake, aka the master of devil, much much love and gelati.

cupcaked gelato

100 days of happiness- educe.

Day 13.

There comes a time, when insatiable indulgence gets the better of you. One of those is what I encountered yesterday, and oh the joy of gluttony that gave me the high.
Hot fresh imarti out of the oven, onto the tables and savored by starving-drooling-eyes. Imagine my surprise and satisfaction when the imarti traced my childhood back to me. It hadn't changed one bit. Even years later. From a place that started off from the dust had reached a milestone in life. And I couldn't be happier knowing there are still names-places-faces that retain and cherish authenticity till this date.
It's definitely something when the balmy imarti melted in my mouth while I sat like any other 3 year old on my chatai.

educing milestones.

100 days of happiness- highway.

Day 12.

Sometimes, more often than not, my way is the highway.
Who'd have thought my tuesday would drown drenched in touring across the countryside with my absolutely amazing partner in crime. The dark clouds of taking over with the splatter on the window shield, a hot cup of coffee with a tinge of lightning thunder-storms, and, aah! the snuggling winds swirling.and whining through the padlocks; was just the start of it all.

highways

100 days of happiness- idleness at dawn.

Day 11.

In the thick of pressures and chaos, the sunrise brought about a world of colors.

To bask the centuries away; Nor once look up for noon?

100 days of happiness- sequins.

Day 10.

I'd have put down words and phrases to tell you what's behind the darkness, but then you wouldn't see beyond the light.

"Though my soul has set in darkness
It will rise in perfect light
I have loved the stars too fondly
To be fearful of the night."
-Sarah Williams

mǣnōn

Goonj.

100 days of happiness. Day 8-9.

Goonj. The sound of an echo.
Somewhere, on the broken dusty road to nowhere, I found happiness to last through days. Gunjan, trapped in her own shackles in locks, drew herself out, her vivid eyes saying all there is to speak, listen and see.

kohl.

100 days of happiness- replay.

Day 7.

Replayed over and over again, this is something that just doesn't get old. Investment banking or the council members at the circle of marriage, rules all broken and kept, 2+2 is always equal to 4, every which way.

My best friend. My mentor at so many times. A shoulder. A punching bag. And even a mannequin. Through ups and down, life did wind and wrap us around people, around circumstances, around situations.. But we saw that coming even 5 years back. 5 years later, and still here screaming bewitched by the moment and replayed snapshots.

Replay, because i would live it all over again in a blink of an eye. 

We are two awesum people living life, and living it to the fullest. The bucket list grows faster than it gets struck off.

So so much hayzaqueen love.

Day 7, a complete dedication to this demented butterfly keeping me together. So, to Nikita Das, life is so insanely great. Thankyu.

do(ing) epic shit.

100 days of happiness- in my footsteps.

Day 5.

I wake up every morning nowadays thinking about what may be my tipping point of happiness today to be put up, and found the best for today. My kid sister is all grown up suddenly, from toddling around tagging everywhere to turning into a beautiful girl (no matter ow much i may tease her of resembling a chimp). Can't believe she's already finished school and stepping out in life.
So, my 5th day of happiness is all her in my socks. I'm a proud sister and a very happy mentor!

~Stop for a minute, take a look around. Let it sink in. You're leaving. Leaving behind the 14 years for something greater.
Stop. Glance around. Take it all in. Because its all ending.
You're leaving. Give it a minute, grace these 14 years, but after the minute ends, let it go. Honor the memories, remember the faces, carve it in your heart. These 14 years made you, you. Take a moment, a passing minute, to embrace a new beginning, with a promise in your heart, to make it...worth it.
Make or break your life, remember this school, the 14 years it gave you. And someday, look back, visit again. Feel the nostalgia, relive the stories.You're leaving, but, wherever you go, whatever you do, you take this name (Frank Anthony Public School) with you. Remember, it is your duty, uplift the honor and pride of your school. Because, this is where it all began.
Its not the school I'll miss, but the school life. Not the people, but the person I am with them. I'm not afraid of leaving, but of the change.
(in words of Ananya)

100 days of happiness- checks and stripes.

Day 4.

So, typical monday morning. If you're new to the concept, let me enlighten you a bit with one of mine. I finally headed out to office (after a week's 'work-from-home' *snigggers a bit*) for a crazy super busy day prepping for events amongst 50 million other things. Well, I forgot its monday for everyone else too. So, after a harrowing 2 hour journey on the road, the chocobloc was all worth the giggles and chuckles. As if the day wasn't jammed enough that the overdue new year's celebration (literally) came knocking on the door.

smudged shades.

100 days of happiness- sounds.

Day 3.
Behind locked doors and dismantled rocks, there exists a place where yours is not the only voice that echoes.
I'd have never thought of a sunday spent this way..even though its something I've been looking forward to since over 2 months now. A new life, a fresh brewed mix of highs and lows with just a pinch of eccentric balances is what I found beyond those honeycomb carved walls and aligned footsteps.
PACH, as we say poetry and cheap humor gave a direction to me in a dimension that ceased to exist. Overwhelming, the happiness ringing and tears welling. Overwhelming, the dwelled heart-beats and chiseled wind-chimes.
"if you're happy and you know it clap your hands.." was the tip of my day paired complete with the poetry in Braille.
Happiness comes knocking on your head here, and what's even better, PACH will come knocking faster if you're feeling otherwise.
~World's a big small place when you step out.

sights through creaks in doors.

100 days of happiness- molecules.

Because over and above, even on a saturday its fun to be behind it all.

100 days of happiness.

Day 1.


The work-a-day at Kunzum with PACHwaasis and BTMooners. Hand in glove with the chilled windows, sugared icicles and eaten clicks.

enclosed borders.

Beyond the barbed wires and boundaries, found a world so full of colors.

~The world before us is a postcard, and I imagine the story we are writing on it.