Monday, April 24, 2017

For once, break free.

Some times, you need to let go of the world. By the term world, I mean people, relations, duties, expectations, time tables, routines, promises, commitments, schedules, meetings, Facebook, Twitter, Watsapp, Instagram, groups, social causes, more and so much more.

The world can run on its own. Even without you. The world doesn't rest on your presence. It was running perfectly well before you and your ideas came along, and it will continue to do so, without you for ages to come.

So break away. Be with your self. If there is any one who needs your presence, your time, your concerns, it is you, your self.

What do you need? What are your own desires, dreams, expectations? What's your bucket list? Have you even made one?

You get one life. One body. How much time do you spend thinking about it and it's needs?

Peace. Your entire being is screaming for it. But the noise of this world over powers that scream. Engulfs it. While you run around in circles, desperate to win every smile, every favor, every friendship, you keep your own needs aside.

Why is it so wrong to be selfish? Self centered? Why is the very word meant to sound so derogatory? In an ideal world, every one is concerned about every one else. Which means that every one should be duly cared for and be loved immensely. However, an ideal world does not exist.

You are responsible for your self. Period.

The world will always put their own needs, desires, wants, necessities,  whims, dreams, aspirations before yours. So why should you not do the same? At least, for even once in a life time?

There are a thousand and more strings attached to you. Each pulls you in a different direction. A direction away from your self. Break a few of these strings. Break them all. Be free. Stand up for your self. Find your own ground and stay there. For a while. May be for an eternity. Until you have reconciled with your self, with your soul. With the you, who, sits quietly inside you, waiting patiently for you to commune with her. She waits with a trust and innocence of a child. Don't let her down. Not again. Not every single time.

She is the only one to whom you can return, when the world turns on you. She is you. Don't break her trust, don't let her hopes fade away. She has her own dreams and desires. Desires which were never materialistic. Simple, innocent desires.

Sit with her some day. Talk to her. She has so much to tell you about you. It's only when you know yourself inside out, can you have the strength to walk back to the world. To the society.  To instant everything. Be calm within your self. The mind gets restless and then, there is this constant chatter. Non stop. Incessant.  Merciless. Painful. Exhausting.  Tormenting. Dangerous.

Don't let the chatter start. It's excruciating to put a stop to it. The chatter breaks your concentration.  Plays nasty games with your thought process and subconscious mind.

Stay quiet. Calm. Thoughtless. Inert. Placid.

Don't stretch your self so far. Don't take yourself for granted. You are only human. And it's absolutely fine to be one. Every one around you is one. So why be different?  Or pretend to be different? How does it help you? Why torment your self and overlook your own priorities for a society, a world, a relation which is temporary?

Come back to your self. Be with her. She needs you more than you can imagine. You need her more than you can fathom.

For once, break free.


Friday, April 21, 2017

Conflict and Calm, at the Crossroads.

My heart wants to go out. Or may be it wants to go back. Back to being the me from a few months back. Strong, outgoing, vivacious, extrovert, proactive, ready to take up every challenge, always in front of the line, ready to take full  responsibility of everything,  always be there for every single person in my life.

But my mind shirks back. All of the above are similar to spots of very bright spotlights. Blinding. In a dark room. In a silent, dark room. Where you can not see the crowd sitting there, facing you, expecting things out of you. Normal, day to day things. Obvious reactions, same old rhetoric answers and comments.

My heart craves to be the innocent child. My mind wants to be the thoughtful adult.

And hence, I hesitate. I pause. I don't know if I am ready or not. Yet. To go stand in that spotlight.

What if everything goes wrong? What if I fail? What if I am not able to be the person I was then? What if people don't recognise me anymore? What if I fail to stand up for the things that once defined me. What if I am not the old me? Will I be accepted? Will I still have the same set of relationships with the people around me? Will the world let me fit in?

I am slowly transforming. I can feel it inside me. Every day, some thing changes. Better or for worse? I don't know.

Some days, I feel strong enough to take on the world like the old days.

Some days, I just don't care for their opinion.

I have started feeling okay about not caring any more. I am okay inside me, with myself, about not being proactive or approachable, or helpful. I am absolutely okay with not sharing my ideas, let alone care if they are accepted or not.

This aloofness from every thing that defined 'Socialising', has brought an additional and surprisingly satiated feeling. A feeling of quiet. A feeling of a very deep and profound calmness.

That need, to always be available, to be ready to help at the first perception of a person's need for help is slowly ebbing away.

There was this undefined and unexplainable burden that I carried for years. To always make everyone around me happy. There was this fear that people won't want me anymore if I was not around to be an agony aunt or provide that shoulder to cry on. It does not exist any more. The burden and fear do not exist any more.

Yes, I accept that their ghosts still linger around me. But they do not freak me out the way they used to in the past. I have learnt to simply ignore that they are hovering around me.

Relationships are not that fragile any more for me. I don't feel the need to be omnipresent for everyone round the clock. I don't feel the need to love and care and be concerned about people, even the very close ones, any more. I am so  happy to spend so much time with only my self, to talk to my self, to pamper my self and to be available just for myself.

This feeling is precious. It's like first love, you are not sure how to define the bitter sweet feelings in your heart, but you are beginning to appreciate their existence.

On a funny note, I am actually beginning to understand the whereabouts of my heart - apart from it's biological location, that is.

Bottom line:

As I stand on the crossroads, I am happy, I am calm, I am at peace with myself,  with my choices about my past, present and the very near future.

That is all that that matters now.


Monday, April 10, 2017

A much needed walk down the memory lane

In the middle of all that I am going through, her school began today.  She is yet to learn how to put up the brown covers for the books, so the job fell on me. And since I'm worse than the worst butter fingers and procrastinator who ever walked on this earth, it eventually fell on him.

The guy whom I have bugged beyond boundaries all these years, gets the worst of all that I am going through.

But all that lamenting will be for later.

Just now, I want to walk down the memory lane and remember the weeks before school. When the new books had arrived and were yet to be covered and were nothing less than novels for me. I would read every one of them (yes Maths and YES, the horrid Physics too!), from cover to cover.

It was so much fun to have new books! So what if I was going to be disgusted with them in less than a month? Right then, they were as precious as my other story books. New topics, new stories. Summer vacations were peaceful and cool fun. In an age when there were no summer camps, no hobby classes and definitely no TV.

Summer holidays meant 'Me time'.

Courtesy to the city's electricity department, there would be days and nights without electricity.

I wonder how would she survive if she was to travelback to the Ranchi of 1990's?

Summer holidays meant no home work, no routine, and temporary deaf ears for parents' orders or rebukes, and hence life was a bliss!

Most of the colony's kids went off to their grandparents' towns, villages or cities. Us three? We stayed put most of the holidays, except for an occasional visit to the maternal grandparents' place with Ma. Dad was in government service, so no holidays for him.

The visits always ended in me severely hurting (read: damaging beyond repair), some or the other body part, so the visits had to be abruptly cut short. I have no one to blame but myself for these mishaps (a broken teeth, a twice broken and stitched nose and chin, twisted beyond repair ankles - which also meant no high heels (ugh! who cared anyway) or classical dancing (yaay!), for me, for the rest of my life).

Back to home turf, it was early mornings. When you are a kid plus the eldest cousin from the paternal side plus a girl plus the only child of your parents, you have to live by the parents' definition of morning, afternoon and night, 365 days a year.

TV viewing required two rounds of approvals (read: lectures on 'good old days when I was a child' and 'how much did the neighbour XYZ and ABC cousin get in Math this year?'). P.S. The nefarious cousin was ages junior or senior to you and the world's most devoted, studious, obedient, holier than thou specimen.

This phase used to drain so much energy out of the bliss of summer holidays, that I went without TV for a good many years. This was before I had read every word in every book in my library, my land lady's library, the neighbour's and the school library. Then. I rebelled. And thus earned the moniker of being the black sheep of the family, who was unfortunate enough to be a girl as well.

We lived in a rented pre-independence bungalow,  built in the middle of a garden (read: over grown jungle), spread over 13 katthas of land. Very spooky indeed, now that I retrospect.

Mornings went trailing behind Dad, snipping, pruning the gazillion plants he had planted in that jungle...errrm...his garden. It was my duty to water the glorious manually cultivated land. Rest of the day meant endless hours of reading books and lazy prolonged lunches.

The clock turned 4:30 PM and I would be out in the jungle, wandering around, weaving imaginary stories around every plant, shrub, grass blade and tree. I guess, I always loved those green sugourns more than play hours during school days. The evening sun, having lost its bite, would play hide and seek with the jungle's taller trees. The flowers and the curry leaf thicket had a special evening smell which still lingers in my fragrance memories. Every season, from winter to autumn, right through the monsoon, had a specific fragrance for each part of my very own jungle.

Ma would cry herself hoarse yelling for me, but I was deaf to every earthly voice for good two to four hours.

Hey! Blame that not just on me!

Those countless sparrows and parrots and maynas and crows and the rest entire feathered kingdom would be tucking in their families and sitting down for their very early supper right about that time.

Ma never agreed to my version, that I could not possibly hear anything over their chirpy raucus. Which meant another long lecture and the inevitable daily Ma vs Me tiff, resulting in me going off in to the thicket to sulk alone till sun down.

Now, let me make some thing very clear. Though I have always loved the greens, I particularly detest those weird,  creepy crawlies that reside on or in them. Trust me when I say that it was the entire botanical garden out there, consisting of frogs, crickets, spiders, grasshoppers and what not. So with the first Crickety chirp, I would fly home (less than 10 meters away, but felt like miles away at that first cricket's creepy hello!).

Evenings were of two categories :

If I could be subdued in to feeling ashamed and embarrassed enough about the state of affairs of my recently received report card, I would be sulking over a book, scribbling maths sums in my room, alternating between sympathising over my fate, sniffling and scratching away to glory where the mosquitoes got a bite in to me .


If I was lucky, I would me out in the back yard, lying on a rickety cot in the dark (accompanied with mosquitoes,  of course).

These were the evenings that I remember just now, and can give a million dollars to go back to and experience endlessly.

The clear April - May - early June sky (yes, those are by far the only benefits of studying in an ICSE board pre-independence convent girls only school - don't get your hopes too high), was sprinkled with stars and an occasional moon, if I was lucky enough.

Since there was no electricity and the inverter could support just one light socket, Ma monopolised it post sun down (that is if we expected her to produce any dinner in that cave like kitchen). This was perfectly fine by my standards. Nothing can ever compare to those quiet evenings which soon transformed in to dark nights. A slight breeze would rustle the branches of those infinitely tall eucalyptus trees, and later came down to me, sitting or lounging on the cot.

I have a very precious memory.

When I knew that the breeze was about to reach me (yes, you can gauge that by the nearness of the rustling sounds around you), I would open up my palms and stick out my feet with the fingers and toes spread gently apart. The breeze would caress my open palms and soles and weave through my fingers and toes. That cool feeling after a sweltering day and a usually stuffy evening was priceless.

The breeze had a tune which played each night as it traversed the branches of the trees. The same rhythm,  the same beat, the same pulse. Summer breezes are different from any other season's breeze. May be, I perceived so, because this was the only season of my 'me time'. 3 or at the max 4 weeks, before the distractingly drizzly monsoon breezes took over.

I weaved these precious memories, year after year, between my 2nd year of school to the 9th. Those were good old days. Then, quite suddenly and abruptly, we moved on to live in an apartment. For about 5 years, before I deserted my city, leaving my innocent childhood behind.

I yearn for those breezes today. I yearn to be out there all alone, quiet and lie gazing up at the night sky for hours. I miss the fragrance of my jungle, that I loved and hated intermittently as seasons changed.

I have a confession to make.

If I am stuck in an unpleasant or difficult discussion and I act either goofy or demented and either don't respond or give insane or irrelevant answers, you know where I am in my mind.

I am walking down in my jungle, weaving imaginary stories, tales of people and kids who once owned and loved that piece of land, as much as I did, still do and forever will.

A place I called home for a few years, but which never was meant to be mine.

Friday, April 7, 2017

The Story of a Bad Day

Some days are bad, some can get too worse to survive through.

Talking to people, I used to love the sound of my own voice, modulate it as per the audience. I loved being the center of a crowd. I loved being able to inspire people with my words. I loved to train people towards new perspectives.


I sweat. I shiver. I stammer. I think of all ways to get away from the crowd, as soon as I can. I feel claustrophobic. I look for ways to escape out of the crowd as soon as I can. But social decorum requires me to be there in the crowd for longer durations of time than I can handle.

It takes effort to reach out to people. I have nothing to say. And I can not answer questions about anything. Not about the work pending with me. Not about things that I am supposed to complete. And definitely NOT about taking up a new commitment or responsibility.

If you were to drag me to a group of people (read: even if the crowd contains just 1 person) , I would struggle with all my might towards the other direction.

The effort required to meet a person (one to one or in a crowd) gives me sleepless nights. I will not sleep for hours, if there is a planned meeting the next day. I will look for all possible excuses to get out of every meeting or chance of talking to someone. Does not matter if that person is someone with whom I have been talking for ever or some one new.

People. Scare. Me. Out. Of. My. Wits.

The girl who challenged everything and everyone will not step out of her comfort zone. A comfort zone which is a figure hugging dress.

I do not recognize this new me. I will not comment on my feeling regarding this new me. She is my new transparent shell from which I look at the world. I will not say I yearn to go back to the old me. Atleast not yet. I am just calm and comfortable inside my shell. I make sure no one comes close enough to damage the shell. If such a situation arises, I have no choice left but to run in the opposite direction or completely vanish. Some how I don't care much for relations now. May be that was my undoing. I cared too much. I was a people pleaser. I loved to make others happy,  even at the cost of my own loss.

If I don't respond to your messages or phone calls or emails, its just that I don't care or be bothered about how you will react or respond or what impact my lack of response will have over our relation. Nothing matters except my sanity.

You are upset, offended, angry, infuriated? Be. I don't care.

Please understand that I am not doing this with a purpose to hurt you. It is my protection shield. Like the needles on the back of a hedgehog. If I prick you, it is because you came too close for comfort.

I do not know if I want this phase to end soon. I rather like being out of the limelight. There is no need to care for anyone. There are no commitments to be bothered about. There is no to do list (there is, but it just does not bother me any more). My calendar is empty. Places I visit, people I meet are as per my own discretion.

Things are so weird right now that I have been putting off all plans to visit the doctor for certain serious ailments. As long as I am able to bear the pain, I am fine.

Weekends and impromptu leaves from work are my recluse. Me with my tab or a book that I am reading. That is my world. And I don't have any plans to changing things until unless there is a major calamity or disaster. What happens then? No clue.

What happens when I get an attack

It happened again. The scare attack. I lay in bed the entire day today when I was supposed to be at work. I actually slept the whole day. Or most of it anyways. I will try and explain what happens when I get an attack.

My body feels as if it is made of jelly. The kind of feeling you get after the first day of workout. But minus the pain. And it is not just the muscles that have been worked on. The whole of me feels like that. I can not talk to anyone. I prefer being alone. Absolutely alone. Speaking is out of question.

It is difficult to give instructions to the household help. Honestly!  What will I do without her. She runs and keeps my house sane and in working condition, while I lie scrunched up in a corner of the bedroom.

Thank goodness that we have a good understanding and that the daughter is learning to be independent enough to get through most of the day all by herself.

But this is not the way things should happen. This is not normal. Who lies in bed the whole day, until unless you are physically unwell? Which I am not. I am a healthy person. But yet, I just can not get myself to talk to people. I have a problem talking, even looking at a face.

I don't take calls. I do not make calls. Everything can wait. And if it can not, then, I am just about ok to make a loss or let go of something. The doctor has asked me to pick up the phone ad make a casual call. I have been planning to do this for over a month now. But it is yet to happen. I do not know what to say beyond a 'Hi, how are you?'

If I have a meeting tomorrow, I will be going without sleep the whole night today and be in a puddle of my own sweat and jelly muscles till the meeting happens. Not more than 5 months ago, I used to take control of everything in meetings. I would monitor everything with a hawk eye. Make sure things happened when they were supposed to happen, put people's noses to the grind if they didn't do what they were supposed to do. But that was so many million years ago. Today? I just don't care. If things are not happening,  they are not happening. I refuse to take that ownership.  I refuse to be at the head of the army. I refuse to write that escalation mail or pick up the phone and give that much needed piece of my mind..

At home, it takes so much effort to talk to someone. She wants to chatter nonstop. And each time, I shove a movie or some excuse about me being unwell. How long will it continue like this?

Soon, the school will start and then she will need more monitoring. School events and homework means more contact with humans, both big and small. I can not begin to tell how scary that thought is.

The biggest and the most painful impact will be that there will be no frilly birthday party for her 6th this year. It's painful for me because I love to have a flashy birthday every year for her with all her wishes and dreams made real for a whole 24 hours.

This year? It's just a week to go for her birthday and nothing has been planned yet. No cake, no invites, no decoration,  no food list, no decorations, nothing. But this year the pain has been numbed by something bigger and deeper within me. The feeling is similar to pressing a body part which has recently been numbed with anesthesia. Press, prick, cut. Do what you like, the pain doesn't register at all. What havoc will reign when the anesthesia wear off, I have no clue.

The child seems to understand or rather adapt to her mummy's weird behaviour. She is not making any demands even now. The child who talked 'Birthday' a month in advance is blissfully oblivious to the upcoming event even today.

Some how, I will have to get things ready for the birthday.  Some how, I will have to survive being amongst those invited. Yes, even if they are just the 2 sets of grandparents! 

Saturday, March 25, 2017

The Answers To Your Whys

If I have sent this link to you, it means that I am desperately trying to make ammends for all the goof up I have done, for all the promises and commitments I have not lived up to.

To the reader (s) : I am really sorry. That is all that I can say. If our relationship (social, professional or  personal) has been long and good enough to survive this phase of my always abnormal life, it would have stood one of the most terrible tests of time.

So. You are angry with me. You think I am being a snob. I promised to meet you or may be do something for you but I did not. May be I did not answer your call. May be I did not respond to your SMS. May be I did not give in that report and act as a complete and shocking unprofessional. May be I wasted your time. May be your money too.

Something. Anything. Stuff that has shocked and confused you. How could I do what I did or did not do.

 I agree. You have every right to be angry with me.

But won't you want to know the reason where was I when I was supposed to be meeting you? What kept me from turning up? How could I, who in a million years, could not have been expected to break her word?

Ok. So here it comes.

I was broken. I was scared. I was sweating. I was cold. As cold as dead. But. All this on the inside. On the outside, I was smiling, laughing, acting normal. Why? Because I was amongst people who expected me to act normal. Who thought it was OK for me to be amongst them.

Inside? I was suffocating. I was screaming. I was thinking up every possible way to kill my self with out causing an uproar. Without letting people know that I was dead. And one thing. Only one thing, stopped me every time I wanted to jump off that 11th floor balcony.

She. Her thumb stuck in her mouth at 3 AM, snoring peacefully with one leg lying peacefully on my neck

She saved me. Every time I stirred towards the edge of the bed. The thought, the vision of her seeing her Mummy dead was not some thing I could imagine or fathom. So. I stayed put. And hence I survived.

But that was not the end of the story. I realised that I could not continue to be amongst people. And keep up to their expectations.  It was impossible to keep up the act. To act normal. As if I was the same old me who loved to crack jokes, take initiative,  be outgoing,  be the centre of every crowd, the one who always took the lead, the one to whom everyone could turn to for advice or help.

It had to end. Or I would have had to end my life. There were just hese two choices in front of me. The second was impractical because of her. Mind you. Only because of her. Nothing and no one else mattered then.

Some day I will tell her how she saved my life. Right now, she is too busy imagining herself to be a caterpillar who needs to crawl all over me every night.

As I type this, I am all alone at home. She wanted me to go down with her to the play ground.  But I made an excuse, like every single time for the past so many times.

It is easier to say no to her and see her fallen face than to face people. There. I said it. I am scared of people. I can not talk to people. Any one. Every one.

I break in to a sweat. I stammer. I start shivering. I do not know what I am saying or what I might blurt out. I am scared my audience will laugh at me or sympathise with me. I can not bear either of the reactions. Hence I try to sneak out of a crowd. Or not go out at all. At times when I have to be out there, the feeling is similar to what it feels like to put your neck on the gallows, with the crowd watching and mocking you, as you wait for the blade to drop and everything turn black.

I am sorry I chickned out on you. Really sorry. But if you really care for me, I hope you will ask God to keep me alive for as long as it takes me to be alright and not be scared of people. Of everyone. Of any one. Even you.

I hope that I will be ok soon. I hope I will be able to talk to you soon. I hope I will be normal soon. Till then, please don't be mad at me. Please don't be angry. Try as hard as I might, I can not get my self to get out of my cocoon. It feels safe here. I am calm, relaxed, not jittery. In short, I am as normal as I can be.

There have been months after months when I have only slept on Fridays. Because for the next 48 hours I had the opportunity to be home, not move out. Not even out of the front door or even the balcony. That is how scared I have come to be of people.

The only people who have kept me sane are him and her. And the gang at work. Every one else freaks me out. Yes, my parents too. Specially them. I cringe at the thought of meeting them. And it does not help when they are just next door. I am flustered and frustrated.

Every thing is at stake. My social life, my career - oh, by the way I have quit the job. I am so scared of every call, every meeting. Clients, vendors, support staff, colleagues, people who know me in general. They all suffocate me.

They all have so many expectations!  God! Why! Why! I am no good at any thing they think I am an expert on! I am a complete failure. I am a no one. All that people know me for has been a facade. I have been superlative at faking it till now. Making people believe that I am good at all that I do. But I am not! I am not!

I can not even begin to tell you how much courage it takes to stand there and look confident and so cock sure of every thing I say and do, when I am a puddle of my own sweat on the inside.

It is the most painful thing to be an imposter who is so loved and adored and valued by all who know her. I never thought I will ever hate myself so much.

I hate faking being strong and positive and sane. I hate being some one I am not.



Thats all I can right in less than 15 minutes of pure breathelessness.

P.S. : Please do not try to get in touch with me after reading this. P.L.E.A.S.E.

That will be the biggest help.

P.S.S. : If you just have to talk to me, as in, for example, if we are professionally connected, act normal as if you have not read this. Yet.  Or Ever.

Until I am as normal as you have known me to be, take a deep breathe and pray for ~SimpleyMe

Wednesday, March 22, 2017

Life inside the cocoon

Does this really happen in real life? An extrovert transitions in to an introvert. The girl who dared so much? The girl who was the center of every crowd? She now resides in the corners.

It is a strange calm feeling. To be alone with my thoughts. It is so peaceful. It is so blissful. In fact the feeling is so healing that even the finger tips have got used to it. And they move ever so slowly over the key board.


Where is that girl who would jump online to publish every thought that came to her? Where is that girl who craved for all that publicity, for those 15 minutes of fame? She seems to have vanished.

But then, I still stand here. In flesh and blood. Who am I then, if not the same person?

So much has changed in so little time. For once, I do not crave for attention, do not value their opinions, their feelings, their desires.

All these years, I serviced the needs of every one around. And finally the time has come when I look within. When I focus on only what my heart desires. The past and the future hold no value. I really don't care how the later gets impacted by this decision.

Let the world say what it wants to. I, will not bend over any more. I, will not retreat. The happiness of my heart, the fulfillment of my dreams, the peace in my mind and soul are now my top priority.

The girl who went out and over her way to please the world has transformed. As Miss About to Be Six states, I was a caterpillar all these days. Crawling all around, slowly. But I guess I have had my fill of the world.

Its time to build my cocoon and rest. Transition slowly in to a being with wings. To fly away up in to the sky. Fill my wings with the winds of this world. That, is the future. Right now, its time to live safe and happy in my cocoon. How long is my stay here? I do not know.

Even in the middle of the storm, and in the devastating calm post a tornado, I believe that every thing will be alright.

I will make an honest confession here: I am actually liking and slowly falling in love with this new Me.

A Me, who does not care for how others feel, what will make them smile or happy. A Me, who does not run to the ends of the world to gather things or put stuff in place to make some one's life a little bit easier. Their smiles and heartfelt gratitude have no value for this Me. I guess the earlier Me has been helping selflessly so long that She has completely burnt out herself. There is actually a limit for how long you can continue thinking of and valuing every other person except your self.

Will this Me go back to being the older Me? I do not know. I do not want her to be. But then no one has any control over destiny.

As I lie here in my cocoon, my safe place, I look at the word from the walls of my present home. It is still the same. Nothing changed or stopped because I am not there. It is a happy-sad feeling to accept the fact that the world can run without me. Happy, because my absence does not impact things and sad because my absence does not impact things.

Which means that the old Me had nothing to worry and fret about, after all. She is not being missed even an iota by any living being.

Which also means that I can now focus on developing my wings, making them strong and supple enough to fly soon.

So what am I going to do? Oh ! there is so much to do that 24 hours in a day, 7 days in a week, 30 days in a month and 12 months in a year will not be enough to do them all! At least not all at once!

So, that means there are still streaks of the old Me in the transformed new Cocoon Me.

Well, no one completely changes ever.

I have made a mental note of the things I want to learn: Drive a car, yoga, meditation, crochet, knit, stitching, quilt, pottery, cycling, walking, jogging, cooking (well yeah, I never loved facing the fire), baking, wood carving, carpentry, painting, gardening - specially to make Bonsais. May be a few things will get added, a few will be long forgotten. To read and to write are like breathing in and breathing out, so they will always be an integral part of Me, today now and forever.

What ever happens in the future, one thing is for sure: I am not going back in to a crowd of known familiar faces soon.

They scare me, give me sleepless nights. Familiarity breeds comfort to expect things and I do not intend to give that freedom to any one any time soon.

Guess this new Cocoon Me is going to love being a Cocoon Me for quite a long time.

P.S.: When I started writing, I did not mean to publish this. So if you are reading this AND I have shared the link with you, remember that no one changes or transforms completely. Ever.

Not even  ~SimpleyMe

Tuesday, March 7, 2017

Hello There! Long Time, No See

Hello. Been ages since I wrote something. Feels good to be typing away on a keyboard with no set thoughts in my mind. Its like knitting. Every time the thread makes a turn over the needle, there is a little more of a garment getting created.


Wow, I actually wrote something! Feels nice. Feels nice to see that my brain can still connect the dots in the most unfamiliar ways. That I can still go on typing and a story gets created on its own. Where do my thoughts come from? How do I know what to write? Why am I even writing now? I don’t know, really. It is just as if my thoughts are paving the way on which I want to walk. A slow walk this time. One step at a time.

Saturday, October 1, 2016

Some Day

Some day
I will sit in the quiet
And miss you
Some day I will sit alone
With nothing to do
And miss you

Some day
I will look at those scattered toys
And let them just lie there
And not ask you to pick them up

Some day
I will just crave to hold you in my arms
To smell your baby smell
To hear your incessant chatter
To read you a hundred stories
To tickle you and laugh mercilessly

Some day this silence will drive me crazy
Some day the clean rooms
And the well kept drawers
Will look insane to me

Some day, leaving a glass of water unattended
Will seem so abnormal
Some day, your absence from these rooms
Will transform this home in to a house

Some day, I will beg to hear you sing
The same song on repeat
Or make music out of the pots and pans
Some day, my fingers will yearn
To comb through your hair
To make countless ponytails

Some day, I will have so much time
To do so much and more
But the heart will over rule the head
And I will sit staring in to the empty rooom
With a Mount Everest of work load and priorities
Lying there, discarded and of no value

Some day I will have all the time to do
All that I have always wanted to do
When you are not around
Some day, I will have all the time
To spend time with Me


All I would ever want to do
Is to be with You

I miss you my dear Sunshine
My world between this earth and that sky
I need you to be here right beside me

To drive me crazy and love me
And pull me in a thousand directions
All at the same point of time

I need you to be here,
This very moment, right now
To break this nightmare
Of living through that Some day, Today


Thursday, September 29, 2016


Hello Aaira,
I am Swara.

Mummy says I am your big sister, your tai
I am 5.5 years old, and I DON'T LIKE BABIES!!
But one day I will grow up, and so will you
Then we can be friends too

But right now, tomorrow,
When we meet for the first time,
I will act up and will not want to be around you
Please bear with me

I know you will wonder
Who is this wierd big girl?
She does not seem to love me
Like every one else does

Mummy sends a message through me
To rest assured, that I will come around
To like you and love you so
Like only big sisters can do

Though you will soon fly off to a new city
And I will meet you in a few months time
I promise to let you play with my toys
Not the new ones, mind you! They are MINE!

But if some one dares to scold you
I will stand up for you, my little doll
Like a big sister should
Infact, did you know,
I already have a pet name for you too!
I want to call you my "Little Chotu Baby"

Too long I know,
Oh! Don't wrinkle your nose already!
Some day I will let you give me a pet name too, see?

Mummy is sad that I am going empty handed
To meet you, my brand new, very first cousin sister

With no frock or doll to share with you

But I bring with me, mean tricks and playful chatter
Neither of much use to you!

Haah! See? Thats what big sisters do!

Mumma has glared at me and used her warning tone
To be nice and not make you cry
But then, she will not be around, you see?
She also told me to let you sit in my lap
No! I screamed!

Please Aaira! Grow up fast!
I want to be friends with you
I willlet you be Anna
And be your Elsa too

If you love me, I will love you
Just like your Mummy loves you

But you are too small to play with
Or to tease and snatch toys from

Mummy will be very angry,
If I do such stuff now
So I will patiently wait for you to grow up

So we can play and chatter and
Quarrel and fight and pull hair and
Watch TV and eat ice cream and
Play in the rain and get ill
And break rules and get in to trouble
All for one and one for all!  Together!
Mind you if you don't back me up!
Ah! I will always back you,
You can trust me that way, you know
That's what big sisters do

Until then, please help me to make
Every one around understand

Friday, August 19, 2016

My Square 1

Tough times : They teach you a lot. But. Only if you are ready to stay calm and listen. Some times, in the rush of life, you have no means to stay calm and quiet and sit in one place. Life just whirls around you, taking your breathe away.

I have been seeking a place where I could take a pit stop once in a while. A place that could connect me to my Square 1 - the place where my story began all those years ago.

In this moment, I can not afford to travel or run away from the storms that I must stand strong and face. I do not have that luxury of either time or money.

Thats what the logic of life dictates.

But the heart and brain are crazy parts of the human anatomy. The chemical equations and elctrical stuff inside us that create our emotions and memories can play some strange games with every possibly reasonable logic in the universe. And any ways, what is this universe? Just another fact in your brain.

So, let me get back to my search for my Square 1.

My parents have shifted to the flat next door on my floor. So technically my Mayka is right here beside me. When you walk through the rooms of the two residences, you can make out the stark differences. While one is a chaotic mess of a young very lazy family, the other is a calm, clean, serene, bubbling with positivity, well maintained nest, from which the yound ones have flown away.

There are days, when I do not know how to move even a step in any direction. On such days, I lock my self in one of my parents' 2 bed room flat for an entire day.

A room with a view of the crazy cemented world outside. I take a deep breathe in and am overwhelmed by the fragrances of this calmness around me. I have lived in many places, and have come to believe that every family, every household has a signifacnt and unique fragrance of its own.

I snuggle under a blanket which has been part of this household since I was a child. There is a distinct memory attached to this blanket and every article in this room, even if it has been a different room, in a different part of the country, every couple of years. I look around at the various articles of furniture and the usual knick knacks of a simple bed room.

I realise, there is nothing in this room that belongs to me now. My mother has replaced my stuff with those of her grand daughter. There are neat piles of toys, crayons and clothes everwhere. I am glad that the child has her grand parents staying so close to her. These are her memories in the making.

Somehow, the grandparents, through their lives as parents, have found a secret way to be better parents than we can ever be. May be this home was always meant for childhood. May be the only way you can be happy here is if you are innocent and happy and untouched by the world.

Slowly, very very slowly the flustered heartbeat and the pulserate calm down.

I can hear my Mom tinkering around the house, putting things in place or just muttering to herself. The usual sounds of a household.

It dawns to me : this is it! This is my Square 1. My Mayka. My memories. This is where it all began. This is where I recharge my batteries. This is the place where I sit back, take a deep breathe in, disconnect from the world and focus on what's on the inside.

A place where I do not have to think of impressions to keep or inhibitions to worry about. A place where I set aside all my roles and responsibilities and become what I was when it all started : Me.

The bag of worries and responsibilities will be there, waiting outside the room when I unlock the door tomorrow morning.

For now, in this moment, I need to be here, in this room, in the quiet solitude. This is my way of a day long meditation.

I do not need to sit in a certain posture to meditate, when I am here in this room. I do not need to focus on my breathing, since it is the only thing I am doing while I am here.

I watch the flurry of thoughts in my head go by. Some, I keep aside for future thinking, some, I contemplate on, deeply.

There will always be things which will need priority over everything else.

Right now, they have to take a back seat.

Right now, I am my priority number 1.


Tuesday, August 16, 2016

Love reigns forever in our lives

A fairy flies into our arms on invisible wings
And the sun bursts out from behind dark clouds
A little song that we hum together each night
And its melody dances on lips all day long
She reminds us of all that he and i were yesterday...
And the floodgates of memories stand open
Tiny fingers and innocent eyes must touch and see everything
And the fear of this world just doesn't exist
A child was born to us
Or was it the re-birth of two kids
Laughter and joys fill our days
And love reigns forever in our lives

Wednesday, August 3, 2016

In need of some comical relief

Result of the second 2.5 hour ride back home in the current week:

Successfully mugged up the lyrics of all the chart busters and the jingles of every radio channel.

Planning to update this in my CV too!


Height of embarrassment:

You and your colleague forget to surrender your camera phones with the security guy just before a very very very important initiation meeting.

You are late, so instead of going back, you put both the phones on silent and stuff them in your butt pockets.

The meeting starts. You start talking.


You cling clasp open close your wrists, you go from full confident flow to "Umm-errm-urrm", and would give away your entire fortune to take put the darn phones and throw them away. You can not.

You curse the callers to stink in hell.

God listens to you. The calls end. 30 freaking vibrating seconds are over.

You come out of the meeting to check out the missed calls.

Damn those tele-callers!!

~A muddled, haggard, bus-lagged, sick of and in love with FM, SimplyMe

Saturday, July 30, 2016

Happy Saturday after Ages

Dear Puneri Road (somewhere between Undri Chowk and Bishops School),

Thank you for having completely disappeared in the non existant rains, for being chock-full of nails and shards of glass and what nots.

Thank you for puncturing (read butchuring it with 5 holes) my tyre, skiding my bike and spraining my hand.

What did I miss out on? A pre-planned and much awaited session at ICBI.

What did I gain? A very happy Miss Five, an entire afternoon of sketching, coloring, cutting, pasting and creating Mr. Coco Dot, the Frog Hat for her school project.

In short : a Saturday at home after a long, long, very long time.

Currently in Ooooww Mode,

Friday, July 29, 2016

#HomeworkBlues with Miss Five

Currently arguing if Dory and Nemo are the right name of sea animals.

In other stories, we took 3 minutes to finish 3 pages of Maths home work and had a vey serious discussion on whether Ariel the mermaid is a real sea crature or not.