Sister Mine.

When 2019 had dawned, I had decided that I would write a new blog post every month in the hope to try and find some calm in my chaos. As 2019 is about to end, I sit here with two posts dedicated to the year and a chaotic head. But as they say, it’s the thought that counts, right? 

A lot has changed in the past 6ish months - adulting while waking up every single day with the feeling of not wanting to adult anymore, new city, new people, new timezones, new ways of life, knowing what it is like to feel lonely in a room full of people. 

Amidst all the changes and the time differences, the person who I run to when I’d run out of places to go remains the same. Whenever anybody says “Oh, I didn’t know you have a sister”, my immediate response is, “Umm, she’s my first cousin”. However, she is so much more than just my sister; she has played the role of a mother when I have needed real-life advice, played the role of a best friend when I have called her up and cried about being out of mango ice cream or when PMS got the best of me, played the role of a therapist when it’s too chaotic to pen my thoughts down. 

I am not quite sure if this is supposed to be a thank you note, for words will never be enough to describe the gratitude I feel for having this pure gem of a person as my sister. 

Her life could be a total mess, yet she reminds me to breathe for she knows that when I say that I feel suffocated, I am not lying. She knows how real the chaos I talk about is. She has seen me at my absolute worst yet has never judged me but rather accepted me with all my flaws. She has also seen me at my best, knows what I am capable of achieving and has always reminded me that she believes in me; even when I refuse to believe in myself. And I feel privileged to have someone who loves me with all of their heart and a bit more if that’s possible. 

When I first decided that I want to write a new post before the year comes to an end, I was not sure what/who to write about because my thoughts were all over the place. As incoherent as they could be. And that's why it makes sense - the fact that this post is dedicated to my sister. Because nobody has been able to attenuate my fears (even the irrational ones) and understand my pandemonium better than her. Sometimes, she does not how to fix things. So, she tells me it will be okay and for some reason, I believe her. 

Someday, if we are lucky, we won't have to be on opposite sides of the screen to talk about our joys and sorrows. Someday, we'll make a grilled cheese and have ice cream later to drown the sorrows and dance to happy songs to celebrate the joys. Someday, this will happen. I think both of us are content with the possibility of someday for now. Now, if you ask me, knowing that the existence of someday is a possibility, along with the very many other happy thoughts that I carry in my heart, is a beautiful way to step into the new year. 

So, this is me, doing my happy dance, about to hop into the new year, with the hope that I will update this blog on a regular basis - it's always good to hope :)

Oh and also, it is okay if you cannot understand the context behind the title of this post. I am pretty sure, my sister would.

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I have never told my Dad that I love him.

I don't tell my Dad
That I miss him.
Neither does he.

He asks me if I ate properly.
He asks me if my headaches are less frequent.
He asks me if I'm out of money.
Same questions.
Every morning.

I am not sure
If I should tell him
That my head is a mess
On really bad days.
I don't see
how that would help.
So,
I tell him not to worry,
I tell him I'm alright,
I tell him I'm doing just fine.

He tells me the same.

I am not sure
If I should tell him
That my thoughts
Don't let me sleep
Even though the clock,
Staring right at my face,
Is reminding me,
That there is barely a single living soul
On the street.
So,
Instead of picking up my phone
And dialing his number,
I keep scrolling
Through our pictures.

I'm guessing he does the same.

He doesn't talk much,
My dad.
He listens.
Patiently and carefully.
He knows I don't like it
When he isn't being attentive.
He doesn't like being clicked.
He knows me enough
To smile for the 172nd time
For me to click the perfect picture.
He doesn't like being told
What and what not to do.
However, he nods his head,
If it's me on the other end.

He has seen me grow up
From the little girl
Who needed her dad
Every second, minute and hour
To the girl,
Who is independent,
Who he depends on
To be his wake-up call.

In the midst of growing up,
I have seen him grow old too.

I am not sure
If I should tell him,
That the freedom and the independence
Suffocates me
On really bad days.
So,
Instead of ranting to him
About how much better
It would've been
Had he been around,
I ask him if he's proud of me.
He says "Very".

My heart is all giddy.
And everything makes sense
For a little while.

He doesn't talk much,
My dad.
I remember the days,
When we did nothing
But sit on our patio.
I am assuming
He used to think about things
he never mentions
As I fall asleep
In his arms.
I guess that is why
I find silence
more comfortable
than dinner table talks.

So,
here I am,
Sitting on my patio,
Wondering if I should dial his number,
To tell him,
That the sky is clear
And full of stars.
And how I wish he was here,
So I could fall asleep,
In his arms.

I have never told my Dad
That I love him.
Neither has he.

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Things 2018 taught me.

It was four years ago that I started blogging. I wouldn't say I was an exceptional writer but I liked writing. My post would get 50 hits and I'd be the happiest kid.

I have no apparent reason for not posting new blog posts anymore. I did write. I wrote more frequently than I used to. I just never posted anything on my blog. Recently, it hit me that this was supposed to be one of the many little things that made me happy; that could make my day go from "I don't want to adult anymore" to "Everything in my life makes sense now." and I figured if I cannot find time for something that makes me happy, I am doing something wrong.

So, here I am writing my first post of 2019 with the hope that I update my blog at least on a monthly basis and what better way than to make a list of things 2018 taught me.

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1. There are very few things pizza cannot fix. You might gain a little weight but you also gain perspective so I think it's a fair deal.

2. You cannot split people into just two categories - people you love and people you don't love. Some people can be like one of those foods you eat but are not really fond of. My sister told me this and it does make sense, at least in theory.

3. You need to make time for things that make you happy - it doesn't have to be something that everyone comprehends as long as it makes you do your happy dance.

4. It is alright to believe in magic and unicorns and fairies. It's not called living a lie, it's called hanging on to something that keeps you going when the truth is too brutal to digest.

5. Up until now, I used to believe that you cannot stop loving someone - you cannot unlove people - I used to say. 2018 taught me how wrong I was. As it turns out, you can stop loving someone who meant the world to you at some point in your life just like you started loving someone who didn't even exist for you at some point in your life. So, my new belief says, you can unlove people, but it's not something that happens overnight.

6. Sharing your poetry is not easy, it doesn't matter if you're sharing it with 20 people or 200 people. However, you can perform it like you own the room if you do not let the fear of being judged crawl in.

7.  Moving to a new city can be overwhelming. Give it some time and the city will start to grow on you. I promise. You will find places that feel just like home and everything will be alright.

8. You won't need to manage the busy schedule and the time difference to stay in touch with people who matter to you. The time difference will take care of itself as long as you care enough to make that one phone call/send that one text message to make your day/night a little bit better. Long distance is only as complicated as you want it to be.

9. There will be times when you'll feel lost and it's alright. Wander around instead of trying to find your way back home, and who knows, you might hit a jackpot.

10. I am going to end my list with the words of one of my favorite authors, J. K. Rowling - "Personal happiness lies in knowing that life is not a checklist of acquisition. Your qualifications are not your life."

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Promises.

She was a little girl when she first came across the word - "Promise",

Had been here 5 years now, so

Would you blame her for assuming she was smart?

"Promises seal the deal" or at least that's what the little girl then thought.

How can I blame the little girl for believing

that her dad would keep his promise

and not let go when she was cycling?

But he did.

Having your belief shattered doesn't hurt much though

when you're just a kid.

The candle on her cake now says ten,

five years added to the journey and she had no clue

if this was the beginning, the middle or the end.

How can I blame the toddler who was now 5 years older,

for not falling for her sister's 'promise',

maybe falling off her bicycle had rendered her smarter?

But her sister wasn't the same,

She made her realize that we can accuse people

but promises were not to be blamed.

Add five more years to the ten she had already lived,

Now she had an abundance of broken promises,

however, some were left unbroken, indeed.

Would you blame the girl who wasn't so little anymore,

for putting her faith in the books she read and the stars she played with

because for some, promise was just another 7 letter word ?

Her new friends, she guessed, carried the messages her sister had sent,

They hummed the exact same tune she used to and their dances were way too similar !

'Oh honey,' they'd whisper , 'life is much more beautiful if you let all the colors and the scents blend.'

Two years have passed since she last said her age was twenty,

She carries a pen and a paper with her all the time now,

A couple of things had been crossed off her 'bucket list' now, yet it was far from being empty.

I don't blame her though, for believing in something which many think is naive,

for not everyone who looks up to sky finds it beautiful and stunning,

And the way I see it, retaining your belief system, come what may, is certainly pretty brave.

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Restlessness

restlessness - (n) the inability to rest or relax as a result of anxiety or boredom.

                13 words. That's all it takes to describe this state of mind. 

"Maa, I am going over to a friend's place." I say as I open my closet and pull out the first pair of jeans I find. My mother's voice hits my ears while I am brushing my hair, "Wait for a while, I'll ask your dad to drop you," she says. Any other day, I'd have happily accepted the ride but not today. I needed a walk. I needed to get out of my room and stretch my legs and talk to a couple of puppies on my way. I did not want to wait for a while even if it was a matter of 5 minutes. So, I pull up my socks and say as calmly as I could manage, "It's okay Maa. I want to walk." Now, as much as I love walking, she knows I'd never walk over to a friend's place. She gave me a once over and I was waiting for her to ask something but she didn't so I gave her a meek smile and hopped out the main door. 

I'd be lying if I said that I have never been restless. I have. But it passes after an hour or so. I manage to find something to do that would have my full attention. This time was different somehow and I have tried and failed to figure out the reason. It's been two days now and I haven't done anything which could be called productive unless you count sleeping. I have tried watching movies and reading books and listening to music; when none of these worked I resorted to the creative stuff - making paper butterflies or flowers or pocket diaries. But even the butterflies didn't manage to captivate me for too long. So I figured a stroll might help.

Strolls do help. Or I should say they allow me to forget a couple of things, if only for a while. They allow me to let my thoughts go astray without the fear of not liking what might pop up. My thoughts jump from nothing to everything - unrequited love to recent crushes to baby pandas to coffee to goodbyes. And there it was. The reason behind it all. Behind me not being able to finish that movie or enjoy that novel. Goodbyes. I have never been good at them. It's like I know that I'll have to bid adieu some day but I am silently hoping that the unicorns work their magic. I couldn't bring myself to accept the fact that my sister was back in New York and it's not long before my best friend leaves for his college too. 

And training yourself not to cry doesn't help either. All those tears asking for your permission to roll down your cheeks and you shutting them inside misleads your heart into thinking that you're totally fine. However, your mind knows better. It knows that closing your eyes doesn't make it a night. Those purple walls of your room, once your friend now mock you for not seeing the vacuum that you've created around you. The novels which you used to love so much fail to hold your attention because you turn to share that funny line you just read and find the next seat empty. You can't seem to finish the movie because you know you won't be able to go out for a chocolate ice cream if you didn't like how it ended. 

I know I sound delusional but that's how I am. I'd rather have someone hold my pinky finger when I cross the roads rather than them reminding me on the phone to look out for the vehicles on both the sides. But it's alright because I know it will pass. It may take a day or a couple more for me to get used to the empty room and to fill the vacuum. Till then I have my writing. And I'll try reading books too. They might feel bad if I ignore them for too long. 

I know everything is going to be just fine when the heart and the mind are on the same page.   

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The guy who taught me to trust Maybes

Yes? No? Maybe? - whenever these words crowd my brain, I know that I am in need of a break. I am not exactly the kind of person who would pack their bags and run away to some place because they need solitude. However, I love taking long strolls and take turns without thinking where the road would lead. It was during one such nighttime stroll that I came across the house. I call it 'the house' ever since and it's become my go-to place. It seemed that the house was abandoned but for some reason I pushed the gate and went to check if the door was locked and to my surprise, it wasn't. Abandoned places don't have furniture so it was silly of me to assume that it would be a fully furnished place but I can't deny that I was a teeny bit disappointed to see the empty hall. Nonetheless, I climbed the flight of stairs and they led me to the terrace. Sitting on the edge of the terrace with the breeze playing with my hair, I looked at the winter sky and realized that I can sit there till the sun comes up. As much as I wanted to stay, I knew I needed to get back home, so I got up and made a mental note of visiting the house often.

It was not long before I had memorized the turns that would lead me to the house. One evening while running a personal errand I decided to take a quick detour to sit on the edge of the terrace. I had been in such a hurry that I did not notice the door was ajar but it's a bit difficult to not notice a six feet person standing in the exact same spot you are used to sitting. I was about to leave when he interrupted me, "I don't mind if you want to stay." I looked at him and he passed me a smile that reached his eyes which were painfully blue. I took a few steps forward and sat next to him. He must have been a year or two older than me but that didn't stop me from stealing a quick glance at him, for he was invariably the most beautiful person I had ever seen. I know guys aren't supposed to be beautiful but he was. "Do you come here often," he asks after having caught me staring at him. I blush and somehow manage to get out the words without fumbling, "Yes. Not everyday. But I do come here a lot. It feels nice. I don't know why the people who lived here abandoned it." He laughs a boyish laugh and I think I missed some joke but he explains, "The people who abandoned this place are my parents. This was my favorite place but sadly we are selling it. I liked it here too; serene, isolated, away from the mundane world works for me." I don't know what made my stomach lurch - the sadness with which he described the place or the fact that I won't be able to visit. 

He seemed to have read my thoughts, for he changed the topic and asked, "Any particular reason for coming here?" I was startled by his question and also annoyed at him for breaking my chain of thoughts. He raises one eyebrow when I don't answer and my cheeks choose that moment to turn crimson which amuses him. "Sometimes, I need a break when my thoughts become to much to handle. Where am I heading? What if I fall? What if I reach a dead end?", I shiver. He folds his legs and turns to face me; I blurt without thinking, "You are wearing bunny socks. They're too cute for a guy." He grins, "I would take that as a compliment. Thank you very much." I thought he was done but he adds, "You know that's the problem, you come here because you need a break. You'd find another go-to place when some family comes to live here." I was about to get up and leave because I don't like when people tell me what not to do. I really think he could read minds because the next moment he said, " And you just judged me for acting like a know-it-all, didn't you?" He laughs his boyish laugh again and I change my mind. "You don't talk much, do you?" I look up to him and say with a teasing smile, "You don't allow anyone to speak. And I am sure you read those lines in some book. Everyone needs a break." He shrugs, "Of course they do. But not from their own thoughts. I take breaks when I am tired of hearing the mundane dos and don'ts of this hypocritical world. I don't understand what's wrong with a guy wearing blue bunny socks." I grin and was about to apologize but he cuts me off, "Or what's the big deal in taking the wrong turns and reach a dead end, you could always turn around." I look away from his face towards the swaying trees, "Words are easy to come by. Each dead end you hit has a consequence and I don't think I am ready to face it." He tousles my hair and my I am pretty sure he heard the thud of my heart; however, he continues with a grin, "This is the time to make mistakes and hit dead ends so that when you're 40 you'd know which road to take. Don't listen to someone just because they have been here longer, they might have a different perception and it's not mandatory for you to have the same." 

I could have listened to him talk forever, such was his charm. All of a sudden the moon reminds me that this was supposed to be a quick detour and I get up with a start, "I really have to go. It was nice talking to you." He plants a kiss on my cheek and this time my cheeks turn a ridiculous shade of pink to which he laughs again and says, "It will be around a year before my parents actually sell this place. This can be your go-to place until then or maybe you could start looking for some other abandoned house." I go to the house everyday in the hope that he might be there but he hasn't visited since that day. That evening and his perfect appearance are the only memories I have of him. You'd think it was stupid of me to forget asking for his number but the way I see it, this one memory is enough to last for a lifetime and who knows I might find him standing on the edge of the terrace of some other go-to place I find. 

It's like he knew I would come searching for him the next day because he had tucked a note under a piece of wood. I opened the note and it read, "When confused between Yes/No, I'd go for Maybe any day because that way I have half a chance of not hitting a dead end."

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Answers.

The thing about answers that amuses me is the fact that not having them annoys us so much that we'd rather come up with some chimerical version of the same than admitting a simple statement "I don't know". In your defense, it's the way things have been ever since we started growing up. We're accustomed to be in our comfort zone; we'd go in state of turmoil even if our pinky toe crosses the border.

When my brother was little, he loved hiding in the closet, waiting for me to find him and I played along in the beginning. A couple of days later however, I stopped looking and soon enough he got tired of waiting, making me switch to some other game. Funny, isn't it? The way toddlers' mind works and the way they can jump from one thing to other without making any fuss. A few years pass and the same toddlers are attacked with never ending questions. "So, what next?" or "When will you act like a grown up?" or "Don't you think it's time to think about your marriage?" or "Ever wondered why you're not girly?" - we're constantly surrounded by these. As if this wasn't enough we develop the habit of self-interrogation. "Does he love me?", "What if I don't make it through this semester?", "Will I ever fall in love?" and the list goes on. 

Of all the complexities existing in this universe, what befuddles me is this tendency of having everything sorted, of not being okay with uncertainty, of not having a bit of patience so that things fall into perspective, of not being that toddler who knew how to move on. Do something because you want to, without any reasons, ignoring all the what ifs and maybes because they're there to stay, now and forever. People will frown upon some of these but trust me, there's only so much one can frown; they're bound to give up.

The way I see it, it's quite simple. Maybe everything would fall into perspective if you stop trying too hard and maybe the answers would grow tired of hiding in the closet if you stop looking for them.

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