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“Today I walked a hundred bucks.”
“You mean a hundred metres?”
“No, I mean a hundred bucks.”
“Well, the distance I covered would’ve cost about hundred rupees by cab.”
“But can you really measure the experience of walking in rupees?”
“You can’t. But sometimes, you need to put a price to everything that’s priceless to make society understand the value of it. It’s like saying the rustling of the trees and the wisp of the wind costs x amount of money.”


Death by WhatsApp Groups

Hey, I’m only just exiting your WhatsApp group

It’s not like I’m exiting our group as such

Look, we still remain, flesh and blood, cheers and hugs

We still differ on some things and agree on so much.


But you see, from morning to evening

My life has been going beep beep… beep beep

I am lost in my thoughts and I don’t want to awaken

Or I’m just very awake when I should be asleep.


And I like to be in the moment,

Not in pieces, in many different places, you see

So when I’m with you, I shall be with you intensely, fully

But when I’m with myself, please just let me be.

“Falling upwards. Daybreak. Uncrash. Rolling down uphill. Apple tree. Cherry tree. Grapevine. Grape wine. Dark chocolate. 75% cocoa. Chocolate. Fruers and ambitions.”

Just came across the above note saved as a draft on my phone. Sigh. Sometimes I wish I could understand myself.

On being one with yourself.

But tell me, which extraordinary man or woman has ever existed without his or her set of contradictions?

I guess the trick lies in being able to see yourself as a whole, to know who you really are, whatever others might think or interpret of you. 

To not live as scattered pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, but to be able to put the puzzle together, piece by piece, to make a comprehensive ‘whole’. To not exist in extremes, but to let those extremes exist within you, without being worried, confused, or tormented.

Even if it requires becoming vast. More vast than you ever have been. And being vast is easy. For true vastness lies in realizing just how small you actually are.

One day, I will sit you down and explain to you exactly what all I do. And all that I am. But wait. Let me figure it out for myself first. 

A good time for feeling good

I like to think of December as the ‘Friday’ of the year. It is the finishing-off, the ending, the last bite of the chocolate pudding – sometimes scrumptious and sometimes partly bitter. It is the gathering up and moving on.

Friday for me is a party day – even if I’m not at a party. On Friday nights, my endeavour is to find something to do that is anything but intellectual or creative, while on most other nights it is exactly that. Similarly, December to me is a party month.

First, there is Christmas. Even if the carol-singing, the crafting of all sorts of green and red decorations, the secret santas and the merry-making is not what it used to be back in school, the feeling of it all has somehow lingered on. Then there is my best friend’s birthday, which for almost two decades has fallen on the same fixed date. And of course, there are the new year’s countdowns, the short dresses and fishnet stockings, the overcoats and the whiskey. All in all, it’s a good time.

But is celebrating just because you are supposed to enough cause to be merry? I think not. Over the years, the ending of a year and the start of a new one seems to have acquired meaning for me. It is a fresh start, a new beginning. If I were a bird, this is the time I shed my old feathers and patiently anticipate new ones.

Feathers. They’re things that have taken a long time, a lot of nurturing and caring to form. They give you flight, perhaps even an identity. Sometimes they’re so pink, so turquoise blue, so parrot-green, that it is only natural to get a little attached to them.

And yet I have learnt, it is ok to shed them every once in a while. It is ok to let them go. Because new feathers almost always appear, and more often than not, they’re more beautiful than the ones you last had.

And if I am to trust my instincts, the feathers that will come now will be the most beautiful ones I’ve donned, thus far.

To December. To January. To new strength, new courage. To a truly happy new year.