The damn space.

This damn space that is provided by time

Is uniquely boring, subtly breakable as it concedes in life

Something remarkable makes this space

A terrible feeling of owning, disowning, price and theft

Watch the space – they say

Trust the wait and add a pray

Neither the space gets a makeover

Nor the endless smiling face

It just remains a broken machine far from even willing to race

The clock ticks

The days go

Months pass and years flow

The space never gets filled

Playing the wait game just gets skilled.

Best advice.

I have always wondered why everyone jumps in with an opinion on everything on everyone all the time? The standard rule has become to advice. To give advice all the time. At times adding that personal line – ‘I know. Been there, done that.’ Or ‘I exactly know how you must be feeling’. My question is how can I exactly know how anyone feels because they are not me and I am not them as well?

There are always several layers of permutations and combinations that get thrown in for every individual at even exactly same conditions. These differences do nurture dependencies between individuals but to expect them to be exactly identical, so that one can step in to feel for the other, is absolute foolish to say the least.

Hence, the biggest drawback in the sentence – ‘please follow my advice’ are the missing words; ‘choose’ and ‘feel’. ‘If you feel like or choose to, then please follow my advice’ seems like a more contained statement to throw at someone.

I think the lesser importance one attaches to ones own opinions, the lesser urge one has to throw it at someone else because an opinion always queues up first in the line of choice. Perhaps then this unnecessary rise in hatred would reduce because most of the time feelings are able to set themselves right on their own rather than having to force them.

Success. Failure. Life. 

By and large the screaming reality that one gets drawn to is to value oneself based on the worlds’ definition of success and failure. One, often is thought to be the reverse of the other. The very nature of the definitions aren’t contained or bounded by defined limits and ranges. There are abstract deductions on what might appear to be a success through the world lens and what might not and vice versa. Most of these parameters being covered in materials. This then begs to question the very existence of these definitions and then to question their impact on an individual’s self belief. 

At the core sits this notion of impermanence very rigidly which even applies to the brain. The brain starts decaying gradually with age as has been shown and published in the literature. Attaching value or worth  to impermanence then seems to be an interesting phenomenon of feeling good and worthwhile. Whereas in reality, this attachment in itself crawls on the shoulders of lies. Perhaps this is precisely why every definition and structure handed by this world runs out to change at the face of slightest threat. The torch bearers of such definitions run for covers when their lies and make belief stories to success are exposed. The failed ones, of course, stand no chance to voice their opinions because the materials aren’t drool worthy to report. 

In these circumstances, where death is our only reality and a mark of pemanence, shouldn’t success and failure simply be left onto love and thoughts  to judge rather than fame and materials? Because come to think anout it, a healthy mind and a loving heart are all that an individual needs to live barring all definitions. 

Letter 1.

Dear life,

You seem familiar but do I know you? I live in you or maybe you live in me; howsoever true the nature’s be. Of fleeting thoughts and the composed theories. Life, you are still a mystery.

Remember the times when I have run into you? The days when I have cried relentlessly. The nights that wouldn’t turn into days and the days that would burn the eyes.

You said that I could touch the sky. I believed that I could. Somewhere I forgot to ask the belief on why I should? From heartbreaks to rationalisation, bridging to separation; you have seen it as I have lived it.

If I were to ask you, what more there is to you would you care to reply or would you smile and glide the question into our known void?

Yours T.


Healing is a class act. Wounds do heal and along with those the cracks that appear in the process of becoming to unbecoming or vice-versa, heal as well. It is the healing of these cracks that leave one feeling connected, human and in love with the self.

The occurrence of every would is not external and the impact of every inner, well thought, decision can be damaging. Hence, healing your own self from your own little damages along with the external wounds is perhaps what can be passed on as ‘living’.

In a world where we are deeply encouraged to connect, to share and to talk about our opinions, healing somewhere sides in with silence. The silence of your being, not wanting to prove or to disprove, the silence of words which perhaps mean a lot or don’t and the silence of thoughts with either resonate or don’t, hold the power to heal the cracks within you that have resulted because of you.

Hence, I feel, the only class act that one can engage is in healing. Although brokenness has its own charm and beauty, a healed one holds that beauty with strength and grace.

And then there was me.

It would be crazy and stupid to expect someone to observe me. Silently. Unless, of course, I am in a hospital bed or coma. In life, I mean, it would be crazy to expect someone to observe me and not speak a word or express concern or speak behind me or discuss me or ridicule me or praise me. Hence, after a lot of thought and accepting defeat in finding someone outside of me, I decided to observe me.

I was inevitably in hate and a complete dislike had covered me from all possible angles when I started as an observer. I could find tons and thousands of flaws and I could never reason my behaviour. Who triggered what and why it get triggered and not that and how was I to know and what was I to act or not act.. I found myself drowning in a pool of uncertainty about being me.

I gave up. So much so for being an observer; I thought well let me be the one in the crowd and let people judge. I don’t need to observe me. I couldn’t sustain.

I had to come back to observe me. This time I decided not to pass any judgement, not to mingle with the thoughts and not to speak. I would simply observe.

I was the best of writers one day. I was the worst of friend the other day. I was the best student one day. I was the worst daughter the next. I was the beautiful partner one evening and I was the worst companion the next. I oscillated.

The space stayed the same. Just as I discovered my capabilities to scream my heart out at someone, I discovered my unique abilities to love. I discovered that I could sustain anger to a point of revenge and I could love to a point of suffocation. I learnt that as much as I enjoyed reading, I did hesitate to share. I also discovered that I had no problems in holding onto my own biases in the face of threat.

As the months turned into years, the observer got a chair. The comfort of an observers’ chair just knew to love, to laugh and to accept. I, then, was left with just a plain and simple choice of living the life being me. Being the observer me 😊

All the things ..

All the things that trouble me are my thoughts. Not only my thoughts but every other thought that’s thrown at me with a lot of conviction is also troubling. At times, I wonder, just these two words ‘I think’ create so much of stir inside that it gets to a point of no return. Whether this ‘I’ is you saying it to me or me saying it to me is irrelevant. Just the fact that this ‘I’ is succeeded by ‘think’ is good enough to trigger every possible emotion and raise the levels of anxiety in me.

I have always known and heard way too many times how I am not the body, how I am not the thoughts, how I am beyond all this but then the minute I step into life, thoughts become a part of my breath, things become a part of my being and somewhere all that I get reduced to is a thrash can trying to hold everything within.

I wish replacing thoughts with love was easy. I wish replacing thoughts with trust was easy. I know I am not there yet but I do know that it is where I want to be. Thoughtless for sure but in love and trust forever.