Tomorrow’s a new day.

This one is for new beginnings.

(You might want to skip this if you don’t want to read about me. Thank you for coming here, though)

Before I tell you all about my journey, you should know that I am not the son of an army officer who has to wear uniforms and smell like good-byes. I am also not the son of a business tycoon who travels often and migrates with a suitcase filled with his family to wherever the market is looking good.

My father is just what he is supposed to be, a father. He does what he thinks will be best for his children. But every now and then, you can also see a small hint of a nomad if you look deep enough into his eyes. That’s how it began, by being a father and a nomad.

I was very young and in Delhi when my father got a wonderful job opportunity in Dubai and he had to leave us behind to go. Even worse, we had to shift to Chennai while he worked hard and became a warrior in the corporate world, fighting for peace and a beautiful house for his family to live in.

As a six-year-old in Chennai, I remember three things. Kinder joy, Jim Jam, and games. Of course, there’s the occasional ‘Remember that’ moment, but that’s usually just nostalgia and my mom talking. Eventually, we moved to Dubai.

I don’t remember much about the experience of my first flight except that I never even realized the plane took off because I was too busy eating. I spent almost five years over there, with Coke bottles, Indian food, and my best friends. But the obvious thing happened when I, personally, least expected it. My parents decided that it was time for the kids to learn what India was all about, and what better place to learn that than Delhi?

Because I was older, I don’t remember things about my time there that I wish I did. But then there is also the curse of being a human, which basically means I remember a few things that I don’t want to hold on to. My first heartbreak, first vodka shot, and my first poem have the same person and place in it. The same girl, and the same city. How can Delhi not be special for introducing me to love and Poetry? I called it home.

Three years into the best years of my life, we had to shift again. It is kind of obvious at this point because my family tends to do everything a bit too much, but this time was different. I knew what home felt like, I knew how a group of friends can be better than four walls and how disco lights can drive the darkness away.

For the first two years in Gujarat, I missed home. I wrote poetry on love and social issues but never on home because it was too damn hard. It got worse when distance took its toll on my friendships and I had fewer people to talk to as time went on. I developed commitment issues, and insecurities of my body and everything around it.

My life became a big coin flip and I had a very short span of time to call heads or tails, to call alive or existing. I don’t know what I chose, honestly.

One day, it all became okay. The nomad gene inside of me kicked in, and I promise you it is the best pain-killer/antibiotic ever. I still have atelophobia, and I still have insecurities but it’s easier to accept that now. I did not make best friends again, but I never stopped making memories.

I made my home but it wasn’t four walls or a group of friends, or two arms and a heartbeat. It was blurry memories, nostalgic smiles, and poetry. It took time but it was worth it. Stay strong.

Have a great year starting from whenever you read this.

Two, happy poems.

Two, happy poems.

Well, it’s Christmas tomorrow. I had to write something that left you smiling. I hope you like this, and if you do, maybe comment a lot? Also, share a lot. Just takes a button. Also, tell me about your happiest memory. Anyway, enjoy! Merry Christmas and Happy holidays!


In a line of poets
that can break your hearts
and numb your skin,
of course you would prefer the one
that makes you feel happy.
Consider this your rebound poem.
Do you remember
what your happiest day was like?
For me,
it was probably the day I wrote poetry.
The first draft was awful
but it had something very important in it.
It had a lot of me.
When I made a friend read it,
I had the widest grin ever.
I wrote a letter to a stranger once
and had an envelope smile on my face
as every word I wrote
made him less of a stranger.
I love oceans.
They’re like puppies to me
wagging their tail-like waves
running to me as I walk closer to them.
That reminds me,
I love puppies.
I held my first pet in my arms like a newborn.
Maybe my smile will finish this poem for me.

Keep smiling,
okay?


Previous post: A new haircut.
Instagram: @myspirals

Give me prompts in the comment section. I’ve never shared my own picture before so let me know if it was weird. 😛

The smell of trees.

The smell of trees.

We’ve spoken about Agastya before, in this post – A new haircut. This poem is based on a very particular line that I wrote for him in that post. I hope you enjoy this! Do comment, a lot. Literally.



“He missed his people and the way they smelled like different kinds of trees.”

– Utsav Raj

Home is a tricky concept.
I think of it as a wall,
with cracks running down its spine,
picture frames of memories
hanging on fragile nails,
and a very nostalgic touch to it.
You decide what the wallpaper is,
what it looks like
and what it smells like.

For me,
it looked like people
and smelled like trees.
My best friend
who I barely spoke to anymore,
stood on the far left.
If I ruffled his hair
I’d feel a breeze on my face
rushing away to hide
its European Larch scent,
fresh and distant.
A kid I used to teach
stood on the far right
and when I tickled him,
he would giggle endlessly.
He was sweet and smelled of honey
like Sassafras trees.
Dead center
was the girl I loved.
When I kissed her forehead,
and my nose played hide and seek
with her hair,
I caught a fragrance
and it reminded me strongly 
of cherry blossoms.

Home is a tricky concept,
and unless you leave,
you’ll never know what you’ll miss.


Instagram handle: @myspirals

Give me prompts in the comment section. Oh, and share this a lot, please?

Life update: one

Hey!

In the post – 365 – I announced that I’m going to post a life update on the 16th of every month. You can skip it altogether if you’re not interested in anything but poetry. Here’s my very first one. 


Well, I’m a dropout. I did start college back in July but barely went for my classes, because of which I was asked to opt for externals instead. I thought about it and discussed it with my family but we came to the conclusion that it’s best to drop a year and start again from July 2019. Why? Because I hope to have written my complete manuscript of the book I’m working on by then. Besides my book, I’m also working for Terribly Tiny Tales and Humans of Bombay as a writer. But that barely takes any time. I use the same posts I write for this blog for TTT and I go for taking stories for HoB every weekend.

I also hope to get much more work. If you’d like me to do a guest blog-post for you (paid) or collaborate, feel free to hit me up using the Contact page.

I haven’t exactly started my book yet because I’m waiting for the day I feel like starting it. I’m planning a trip to someplace in India to simulate a push towards that feeling. However, I have worked on the character sketches, outlines and a few other aspects of the book. 

There’s really not much to say here. This is pretty much my day. Writing, reading and using my phone. I live in Ahmedabad, a place that I’m not a big fan of, which basically means there’s nowhere I like to go in this city. Hopefully, that’ll change soon. Also, Christmas is coming soon and it happens to be my favorite season. We’re considering getting a tree this year, something we’ve never done before. Yay!

I’ll just spend it with my family because no friends (because Ahmedabad), so barely any gifts. But I guess it’ll be fun anyway.

So yeah, that is it so far. See you next month!