Posted in Journal

Being Myself

As cliched and cheesy as it may sound, the best piece of advice I ever received was to be myself. But it didn’t feel cliched and cheesy because it came with context; it came from a clinical psychiatrist; it came after a torrent of tear-fall went down in his presence.

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Posted in Musings


When does a place stop being your own? When you leave, or when others do? Or with the realization that abstract concepts like home cannot be held down by the strings of concrete imaginations pointing fingers at what it should or should not be? Or by how nothing ever belongs to anyone – no, not even if you have a name tag or a medal or a certificate to show for it, because.. well, because, don’t you see how the fine print at the back reeks of an expiry date?

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Posted in Musings


Do I like change?? As an escapist, I welcome it. As an emotional wreck, I despise it. The revelation of the multitudes of meaning the single word has for me makes my sanity come undone; bares open the wounds that years of internal conflicts have wrought upon my mind – those never ending battles between thoughts of my own; I am the savior and the enemy, I am the fleets of marching infantry and the crowds cowering at their feet.

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Posted in Musings

The Invisible Line

I bought my copy of The Help by Kathryn Stockett at a large book fest last year. The stall offered any 3 books for Rs. 200 which was cheap by any standards. While scrambling for good ones from piles of mostly trash, I found this one. The cover page looked interesting and the title seemed oddly familiar. It was three days ago that I noticed the untouched book tucked into the shelf and decided to give it a go.

It was a revelation.

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