Home.

This post is completely about me.

“Souls tend to go back to what feels like home.” – N.R. Hart

Home is the nicest word there is, insisted Laura Wilder.

Home isn’t always four painted walls and a cozy bed. And it isn’t always two warm arms and a beating heart. It can be anything.

I’ve been shifting from city to city all my life. Sometimes, even countries. And so I’ve made a home that has walls made with memories and painted with a tint of nostalgia. Michelle K said ‘Nostalgia is a dirty liar that insists things were better than they seemed’. I don’t mind lies anymore.  Here is a small and brief glimpse into my home.

  1. My family and I were walking back to my apartment, giggling and talking about songs as we licked on our ice-creams. The walk from Baskin Robbins wasn’t a long one. So, back in 2010-11, 10 year old me did not care about anything except the ice-cream that kept melting and dripping from the sides of my cone. As my parents walked behind me, and we were less than twenty steps from our building, I decided to try and stop the dripping by licking the cream. As I did, the scoop came right off the cone and fell down. I was left with an empty cone and a family that just could not stop laughing.
  2. Two years and a different country later, the first day of school in India really terrified me. Of course I had been here before, when I was in first grade, but a lot changes in six years. I took the bus to school, anticipating what the day could possibly be like, all the way to the school. I met my class teacher and she took me to my classroom where thirty students literally shout my name out when I entered. I remember the big smile on my face as I sat down next to someone. The same day, a few hours later, when almost everyone had left, I took out my lunch. A yellow lays. As soon as I opened it, a few students come and share it with me. I found one of my best friends that day.
  3. By the time I finished my first terms in grade eighth, me and my best friend had started having sleepovers every night. We basically lived at each others places. Surprising our mothers daily (Although, they weren’t), playing every possible sport, and doing any thing that could push us over the edge and into the category of clinically crazy.
  4. 2008 – we shifted. 2012 – we shifted. 2015 – we shifted. Aren’t these memories too?

Home for me was four colorful people and a lazy (also, crazy) day out. Home for me was a bunch of warm giggles and a throbbing rush of blood to our cheeks. Home for me was a constant blur of memories, and random pauses. I miss every place I have been to. Although I miss the last one the most.

Now I know all of this might mean nothing to you. But it does to me, and as I promised, I’d like you to know me for the person I am along with the words I write. This is part of the infinity I am. Find your home. Build the next curve of your infinity. And when you are done, don’t stop. We are the infinite spiral of space, with no end at all.

“If we were meant to stay in one place, we’d have roots instead of feet.” – Rachel Wolchin

Bless this home ∞
Adieu.


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A ghost with a beating heart

I’ve been asked
‘Are you okay?’
Way too many times.
And I’ve answered
Way too many times
‘I am fine.’
My voice has been firm
Quite unlike my smile
That trembles
For just a little while
But manages to lie.
I try.
There are no cuts
On my hand,
And no dust
On my shoulder.
It’s just
My damn eyes.
They cannot seem to lie.
I’ve been asked
Way too many times
I’m tired.
But I’ve answered
Every single time
‘I am fine.’


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My happy place

“Dance with the water,
move with the sea.
let the rhythm of the water
set your soul free.” – Christy Ann Martine

The warm smell of summer,
The heat of the sand,
Breeze mixed with splashes
Of water and calm.
The waves moving back and forth
Becoming a metaphor all along.
The clear water
Washing away my anxiety,
My fears, and
My thoughts
Becoming a metaphor all along.
Blue above my head,
Blue under my feet.
Telling me what life is.
It’s cold water and
Scorching heat.
It made me happy,
It made the words inside me happy,
Becoming a metaphor all along.


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The thin line.

“Condemnation without investigation is the highest form of ignorance.” – Albert Einstein.

Criticism is healthy as long as it is positive and constructive. Things can seriously get messed up otherwise. There is a very thin but fatal line between positive and negative criticism.

Positive motivates, but negative demotivates. Positive builds, whereas negative can destroy. Positive upgrades, and negative degrades. A change in tone, a wrong choice of words, or outright complaints can push positives over the thin line.

I have seen both sides of this coin, and the negative is not as pretty as the positive. It is draining me out, feeding on my doubts and insecurities, but I know I have to stay strong. Whenever any of my friend is upset, I always promise them one thing. That it will be okay. Wise men say people always have the solutions to every problem except their own. I have to believe it will be okay, and so do you.

Here is the deal.

When you grind, your mind starts progressing. The spark of creativity burns all doubts or fears. The light at the end of the tunnel appers. When you awaken the fire inside of you, everything lights up. But the darkness can return if the doubts or fears are called upon in an inconsiderate way.

You have to learn to digest a few brutal criticisms here and there, but you have got to learn to believe in yourself and keep the fire burning if the darkness tries to rise. It will not be easy, it will definitely not be over soon enough, but it will end and as once said :

“In three words I can sum up everything I have learned about life: It goes on.” – Robert Frost.

A healthy mind can handle criticism. It blossoms because of it. You have to, too. Positive or negative, keep improving yourself. Be the best versions of yourself. Learn to take criticism seriously, not personally (Hillary Clinton). Be positive. The flower will blossom, just work till the right season comes along.

And to all you critics out there, do what you got to do. Just be a better version of yourselves at it. Thank you, too.

Criticism is disapproval. Just make sure not to cross the thin line.


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98.

Humans have faults.
We give name to feelings,
but forget to give it life.
Often confuse ourselves
Feel something, call it another.
Judge people
On race, and skin
On sex, and sexuality
We often misunderstand
The hearts within.
Humans have faults,
but that’s just a part of being us.
After all,
We are all Jon Snows in this world;
We know nothing.


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