A breeze of salt and steel.

I kind of want to go back to the City now. It's not that I don't like this place. Because I do. It's just that I feel that I want to go back. But I also feel that once I am back, I'm still going to feel the same. Wanting to be somewhere else. Even when I'm home.
       Is there a name for this?

I watched Babadook last night. It was a bad movie with a 94% rating on rotten tomatoes. It wasn't scary and I didn't think about it even once before going to bed.

Something slightly traumatic happened to me recently on an early morning that left me shaking. I'm over it now. But when I'm laying down at night, the mind wanders and I find myself thinking about it. And just for a few seconds, I am able to relive it exactly how it was. My heart skips a beat and then everything goes back to normal.


Is it just me or have my words taken a darker hue lately? But words are just words aren't they? Anyhow. I must write more about the good that happens and the good people I meet. Or the normal people I meet or know who do good things that never fail to overwhelm me.
Today a girl I sort of work with. She borrowed a twenty rupee note from me. Later, even though she was running late for her bus, she ran back to give me the twenty back 'just in case you need change for something'. I smiled. I mean. So sweet. It's a small thing but. How sweet.
Also. I was late for dinner one night. And a girl who we are sort of living with. She said 'oh there are no clean dishes for you'. And then she left her food, got up and washed some for me. Seriously. What is this kindness?

The world is getting uglier by the day. Or maybe it has always been this way and ive only just begun to see it. A year or so ago someone talked to me about how dark the world is and how nice it was that i was  still able to see the bright side of things. Only recently though I realised that my optimism then, was in fact not optimism at all, it was ignorance. But things are different now. Or starting to be at least. You know how they say something like, in the midst of winter i found within myself an invincible summer. Now I acknowledge the winter while looking for the summer within. (I must say i really disapprove of this analogy where winter is associated with darkness and negativity. I mean what is up with that? But alright. Whatever gets the point across. ) I still believe that as long as people continue to be beautiful in even the tiniest of ways, there's still hope. There's always hope. And that. Makes my heart warm and toasty.

I have found that I have trouble being in the present. Being in the moment. Being in my body even.

We sat at a dhaba today. In yellow light. Wooden benches. Buttery chicken and roti right out of the tandoor. Azaan happened and it was peaceful for a bit.

The month has come to an end and I've collected a sufficient amount of memories for myself to take back home.
Maybe I will come again.

P.s. I'm realizing that this is a very haphazard post. But so has been life. And life shall show itself through my words.
Thankyou very much.

Acting small.

Somethings are irksome. Like people invading my space. Or people adding unnecessary drama, stress or other nonsense to my life. Or faaltu baatain which are like bad tasting candy floss. It is all one big IRK and it ends up making me grumpy which is not the side of me that I like or am proud of. I'd rather not be grumpy. Id rather be rainbowy and unrealistically positive.


I'm in the New city. For a month. This is my first time here and everything feels alien. Alien with brief flashes of familiarity. Just got off the phone with s1 and she said I don't know how you're doing this. Because I am so exhausted. Every cell of my body hurts. I'm exaggerating. But I am tired. I'm keeping my mind open and hopes up. Let's see how this goes. However it goes, I will make memories here. That's for sure. And maybe it will be enough. Just got off the phone with dad. Told him all about my day. I could hear his heart smile. Whatever good happens to me or whatever good I do, I make sure to tell my parents. They find such joy in it, my sweetbabies.

The word melancholy is so melancholy. Perfectly suited to its meaning. I love this word. Deeper than sadness. And way more poetic. Melancholy.

I want to own two dogs only so that I can name them Vladimir and Wolfgang. Wow.

I've been whiny and grumpy all day. Work is uselessly tiresome. My heels hurt at all times. And it's not the good exhausted either. I love the good exhausted. Give me good exhausted anytime. I love to work or walk or do anything I enjoy till my cells burn out. But this. This unfulfilling exhaustion. I'm not cool with that. I just need to make it work somehow. Make it work for me. And make sure that the two days that i do get off make all this shit worth it.

I had a nightmare again last night. I woke up panting. Which made me wonder. If i wake up from a bad dream because the stimulus is too much and the sleeping brain cannot handle it so it wakes me up. So could it be that the same stimuli if received in a waking state will cause me to lose consciousness because my waking brain can't handle it. Yes? No? Just a thought.

I love how you can see glimpses of people in other people. The tilting of the neck at a certain angle, pursing of one's lips in a distinct manner, a haircut, a side profile, a scent. It's beautiful how bits and pieces sometimes overlap.

At times I'm so awfully quiet. For long stretches of time. And then suddenly im acutely aware of my silence. And I know I have to make a sound. Or say something. And when I do, such a small half hearted voice comes out that I'd rather not have spoken at all. So some times I don't bother. I stay quiet. Who says silence can't be cozy?

Okay time to sleep.