I Wish There’s No Going Back

Today, I have logged into my blog after a long time, and it seems to be a very strange coincidence that I had started blogging this very same day, 4 years ago. Those were the days of despair, I was struggling to find my space, trying hard to understand my feelings, but unable to express the things going on in my mind. I was drowning in misery, feeling all alone while being surrounded by a large number of people. It was just a simple random talk with a stranger that made me try my hand at blogging. And well, I started writing almost everyday, and slowly I learnt to let go of my past as well as to forget and forgive. I can definitely say, those days made me a stronger person. Thus gradually, the frequency of my posts reduced, as my happiness levels climbed steadily.

But alas, nothing comes without its flip side. Although I grew more confident and content with myself, I started to blindly trust people who were close to me. Of late, I have a nagging feeling of being pulled back to those days, a strange fear that I may have to relive those melancholy days again. I wish I could believe this has been caused due to the sudden shift in my job location across continents and cultures. But deep down inside me there is someone telling me its not. My sub-conscious mind tells me its because I have begun to realise that my trust is broken. But the egoistic me, does not seem to accept the reality. I fruitlessly try to shut out the voice that screams out the truth to me. I do not want to accept that I made a mistake. Well, I don’t think I made a mistake anyway, because, my decision did not take away anyone’s happiness except mine. Any other decision, would have been detrimental to either of the other parties involved.

So as I said, I am trying really hard to shut out this noble voice trying to get me out of this mess. Perhaps it’s this struggle with myself, that’s bringing me to the verge of a panic attack. It’s hard to accept that I am being pulled down only by the ones I love. This present confinement scenario does not seem to help either, when new to a place, all alone. At times, my heart starts pounding scarily fast, and I feel so helpless and trapped. As the whole world awaits the eradication of this nasty virus, I eagerly await the day my thoughts are vindicated and I prove my inner voices to be wrong. The feeling of having been taken for a ride yet again, is something I don’t think I can survive once more. I don’t want my trust to be broken, at any cost.

Fingers crossed.

A Defeated Battle

Why is it that people with depression are shunned so much by the society, perhaps much more than an HIV patient or a transgender would be. (Don’t get me wrong, I have no intention of saying that these people are to be shunned, nor do I support that. However, in the Indian society that I belong to, the society’s idea of the worst that can happen to you is this). However, there are several voluntary groups and organization that come in support of such ostracized social categories of people. But I wonder why it’s only very few people who even acknowledge depression, to say the least. For most, its just something that you bring upon yourself. To put it in simple words, “the fault is my own”, as Linkin Park says.

By the way, I was just listening to Linkin Park after a long time, and probably that’s what triggered a flood of painful memories in my mind. When someone so popular as Chester Bennington failed to get enough support, although his cry for help very loud and clear, how could someone as insignificant as me expect the world to hear my cries. Linkin Park songs have always been my solace from depression. Moreover, every time I hear their songs, I start thinking of all that I’ve gone through. Well, its a vicious circle. Each time I have a bout of depression, I search for Linkin park songs on YouTube. It definitely makes me feel better, but at the same time brings with it a lot of memories of my previous instance of depression.

The last 2 years of my life have been rather peaceful and I was somehow convinced that I had won my battle with the monsters in my head. But I was completely wrong, for the monsters were far more strong than I presumed. They were just waiting for a conducive environment, just like a dormant seed waiting to germinate. The gloomy winter, combined with my sudden change in job and place, was the best they could get. It has already broken the dormancy, threatening now to grow into a fully grown one, stronger than ever.

I really do wish I could open up to someone. But I’m just not able to make it, for fear of being judged. I’m sure I would be looked down upon, by every single person around me, as long as they have not gone through depression. And no brownie points for supporting depression!! Whereas anyone supporting the LGBTQ community or raising their voices in their favour, would be lauded by a large section of the society and called a progressive and humane person. (They undeniably need that support, no doubt). The other day, I somehow mustered courage and decided to speak to my husband about my situation. As soon as I started explaining things, I realised my mistake. He just didn’t seem to get what I meant, and things were going in the another direction than I expected. That was it, and I decided against coming out in the open about my situation anymore. Can’t blame him, for he has never experienced such a thing. I definitely don’t want to lose my loved ones, nor do I want to be branded as MAD by the society, just because of the nasty things going on in my mind. This is the very reason I chose to remain anonymous on this blog, so that I can openly write about my feelings, without being judged.

Sorry for the long writeup friends. I didn’t want today to be yet another night of crying all alone.

“I wanna shut the door
And open up my mind”

The Angel That Never Came!

I wish God was real.
That He would come down and hold me tight
Tell me it’s going to be alright
And embrace me in a warm hug I long for.

At this moment of despair, when nothing seems to uplift me,
When loneliness has taken its toll on me
When hope seems to be a long-lost dream
I yearn for an invisible hand,

An angelic hand that can save me from drowning
As I asphyxiate in this ocean of misery,
Trying hard to keep myself alive
And ward off the monsters engulfing my head.

But I wonder if angels truly exist!
I would have met one for sure, if they did
Coz I’ve encountered only demons in my life,
All around me, and deep within my soul.

I’ve learned not to trust people.
For eventually they’ll let you down and leave you to the monsters
Although for them, you’ve invested all your heart and soul.

In spite of all this, deep inside me I realise
The silent dream that I cherish
Of my angel who would come down with outstretched arms,
And take me along to some far away land,
With no glimpse of sorrow or suffering
My angel who would hold my hand, so that I never fall.

Cheers to My Sadness – A Glimmer of Hope

Silently, I stare at the ceiling, hoping for a miracle
That would uplift me from my dreadful miseries.
A pall of gloom has fallen upon the world,
Or is it just upon me, I wonder.

As I lay on my bed, wishing the world wasn’t so cruel
I reminisce on the past, my beautiful past.
The sweet memories keep haunting me
And depriving me of my sleep.

Sleep has been my only solace, from my unrelenting agony
Heavens know how I longed, for the blissful slumber
That would erase all my pains momentarily
With its enchanted magic wand.

The sadness I feel is unprecedented, the cause rather unknown,
To be at peace with my sorrow, is what I yearn for.
With a glimmer of hope, I await the day I can say,
‘Cheers to my sadness’ !

Why, Oh Why!

‘Why? Why do you love him?’, my dad demanded. I wondered why, because I had no answer. Having been a rebel all through my life (at least in my mind, for I was too meek as a child, too scared to respond, although deep within me I had forever wanted to rebel), I have always had answers popping up in my mind, for any question that was put forth to me. Whether my answers made sense or not, well, that was completely a different matter, and I was content just by framing some answer in my mind. But now, for the first time in my life, I was clueless. I mumbled something, but my dad was not convinced.

‘You cannot go ahead with this relation unless you give me a convincing explanation’.  Wow, I had to come up with some impressive logic now, so that they are not sceptical anymore.

‘Alright, I’ll let you know. Got some work now’, saying so I was about to slip away, when my mom confronted me.

‘Where are you trying to escape to? Answer your dad and leave’. I am doomed, I felt. Bluffing her was rather a Herculean task. But I had to escape now for arguing with her was pointless. ‘Amma, I’ll be back in five minutes’, and I rushed to my room as quick as I could.

Being born and brought up in a traditional Indian family, all this was expected for I chose to marry the person I loved, without waiting for the one my parents were about to find for me. I needed to convince my parents and his parents and get the so called ‘permission’ for marriage. And all these constantly reminded me of the Chetan Bhagat novel, Two States, although it was bit of an overstatement. Well, but that’s not my point here. I never ever thought I would have to stand speechless in front of such a seemingly simple question.

As I sat in my room, I tried to come up with a dramatic answer, but slowly I realised it was not as easy as I had thought. Nevertheless, I was not ready to accept defeat straightaway. Thus, I decided to call my fiance. After all, he was the one responsible for bringing me into this fix. But alas, I didn’t realize that I was in for more trouble. I had successfully added one more person to the list of questioners. ‘I need to hear that. Tell me why do you love me’, he too demanded. I cursed my instincts for having decided to ask him for an answer.

Now the ball is in my court, I felt. I had to find an answer for this all by myself. I pondered and pondered, but to no avail. I just knew that I loved him and that we were meant to be together. It was then that it struck me. Why is it necessary that all questions need to be answered. Why not accept things for what it is, rather than asking for logical explanations. Isn’t it much more beautiful that way. Yes, all this made some sense now, I guess.

Yet again, the very thought of my parents waiting downstairs for my answer, started nagging me. What do I tell them, oh God! But wait, didn’t Paulo Coelho say something in ‘The Alchemist’. Thankfully my memory didn’t fail me at this crucial moment. Fine, so this will be my answer to everyone who asks me the tricky question.

“One is loved because one is loved. No reason is needed for loving.”

How true. 🙂


The Vanishing Act

I woke up to a voice, a very familiar one,
Startled was I to hear it again,
Something to me that was long forgotten
Though I knew I longed for it ever.

I tried to remember, as hard as I could,
To place the voice in my memories, that
Was all too muddled and way too blurred
As time had passed, waiting for none.

Was that a friend or foe, I wondered
Or someone beloved who left me, to be
With the stars and angels high up above
And now yearning to be by my side.

I wished I could see, the source of the voice
I wished I could revive my aging memories.
I strained my ears to hear it encore
Twisting and turning my head to all angles.

I felt I caught a glimpse of a movement
That was all too quick and rapid for me.
I stared at the window in futile hope
‘Coz I knew it had already vanished.


Unknown Land

The earth looked scorched from the blazing sun. Where was I, I wondered. The land appeared barren, with no sign of life. I felt the sun’s rays piercing through my skin, burning me. Is this what they call a desert, I didn’t know. I stared at the horizon, trying hard to discern the edge of the world. But all I could see was grayish hue of the vast expanse of land, with the inevitable cracks that broke the earth into pieces. It must have been ages since it rained here, I felt.  The perpetual eternity was haunting. I longed for a drop of water.

Gazing at the distance, I tried to remember. But my memories refused to rewind beyond a couple of minutes back. I struggled to stand on my feet, but to no avail. Finally I gave up all my attempts and resigned to my fate, hoping for some miracle to lift me from my destiny.



The beauty of a blank mind

There are times when my mind goes blank, absolutely blank. It’s something any writer would dread I guess. Although I am only a beginner and don’t feel confident enough to call myself a writer, I used to get panicky whenever that happens. I’m at a loss for words, as though all my ideas have dried up. I wonder what happened to me. I log into my blog to post, but blankly stare at my screen. Even the daily prompt fails to trigger me. I lose hope and desperately slam my laptop.

But now when I come to think of it, I guess I can put it in a different perspective. Let me take a blank white sheet. What can I do with this sheet of paper, I ponder. Absolutely anything, I presume. I can put down anything on that paper. I can write, say, a story , a poem, or an essay, perhaps. Or I could draw a picture, maybe even scribble illegibly. Maybe I can put my fingerprint on it, any where on the sheet. Well, in that case, shouldn’t the same logic apply to a blank mind as well? Anything that happens around me will create an impression on my mind, if its blank. My mind being empty means I have no prejudices or preconceptions about anything, which will obviously create an unbiased opinion in my mind on what I see and experience. My mind is now flexible enough to accept the different points of view.

After all, these impressions are more than enough for me to write. So essentially, what I’ve come to conclude is that a blank mind is what helps me write freely. Of course, it might take me a long time to write, just as it would take sometime for the blank sheet to be filled with impressions. But I believe, the time is well spent. For what I write after the hiatus, will be with a new perspective and with a renewed vigour.





The Best Phase of My Life

It had always been my childhood dream to enter into the teaching profession. Born into a family of teachers, this was an obvious choice for me. I had always been surprised at the amount of respect they would get for the only reason that they were teachers. Having been a student for nearly twenty one years of my life, the title of a teacher was a much coveted one. I now consider myself fortunate enough to have landed a job in one of the top colleges in the country soon after my masters.

As I am only a month away from completing my second year in my dream job, I felt I should write down about this new phase of my life. I vividly remember the day I joined the institute, much apprehensive of what lay ahead of me. My mind was still that of a student, and it took a long time for me to come out of the shell of being a student. I had goosebumps, the day I had the name plate fixed on my cabin door, with the designation of ‘Assistant Professor’ under my name. Wow, unbelievable. Now I had to stop thinking and appearing like a student. My first day in class was just too awesome for me, (I guess it must have been at least close to that for the students). It had been only a few months back that I was sitting in a class and listening to lectures, and now here I was about to deliver my first lecture. That was the beginning of a wonderful phase of my life.

Teaching has brought about a lot of changes in me, the most important of all being that I’ve learnt to be more mature. I now have a lot of kids looking up to me and can no more be the carefree girl that I used to be. But I enjoy the newly attained sense of responsibility. It has indeed changed my perspectives about the world around me. I wish I can be like my teachers, who instilled in me a love for learning, motivated me to think out of the box and above all, to stay grounded even at the peak of knowledge.

There’s a joke I have often come across on the internet. It goes like this ‘Everybody says teaching is so easy just like walking in a park….But, only teachers know that the park is the Jurassic Park with a variety of dinosaurs’. Quite true, but honestly I enjoy being in such a varied environment, and that is what makes teaching so exciting.

The Ultimate Saga

On seeing today’s prompt on Daily post, I didn’t have to think for another second. The first thought that came to my mind on hearing the word saga was nothing but my all time favourite game ‘Candy Crush Saga’. For long I had wanted to write about it, the addictive nature of the game and the way it has come to have a control over my moods. I have never been a gamer, computer or mobile games were not on my priority list, and I know there are a lot more games more popular and interesting. But none of those have caught my fancy as the ‘Candy Crush Saga’ has. Ok, I admit I used to open minesweeper or Solitaire, in my extreme moments of boredom, but that was all what games had to do with me until this one came along.

There are times when I impatiently wait for the lives to get refilled so that I can continue my conquest. Many times I open the game, even forgetting that  I am at a public place and there are people watching. To be frank, the best part of it, is that they give me only a limited number of lives. Else I would have long been addicted to this, forgetting all my duties. I am even ready to forego food if I could get infinite lives on my favourite game. Thanks to the developers, they’ve saved my life.

I have often wondered what it was about this particular game that kept me so hooked up. Could be the sheer simplicity of the theme, or it could be the excellent graphics used. Perhaps its the way they have used the sound effects. I just go ecstatic, when I hear ‘Tasty’ and ‘Delicious’. I love the childishness of the game. It is pure bliss to watch the ‘Sugar Crush’ after the end of each level, not to mention the associated sound effects. I have got really bad mood swings, but Candy Crush is the only one factor that is always sure to lift my mood.

Recently I have switched over to Candy Crush Soda Saga, and the excitement has only doubled with the bubbling soda.