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.


A letter for home.

Delhi is a city in India, and so yes, this letter is to a city. I hope you like this!

To Delhi,

Whenever somebody asks me about the best relationship I have been in or the place I refer to as home or just the city I get nostalgic for, I take your name. I often ask myself this: were you The One?

I was twelve when I shifted to India from Dubai. Now anyone who has seen you knows you are not the love-at-first-sight kind. It takes time and maybe even ages to fall in love with you. A month before I shifted, I came to you with my father to find an apartment, a school and maybe a reason to not leave Dubai. You gave us five. Overwhelming traffic, impolite people and horns so loud that I didn’t feel like listening to music for two days. But it is said that when you love someone, one reason to stay is enough. You gave us a beautiful society to stay in.

Just like any other heartbroken dude you might have come across, I lamented for Dubai for weeks. I spoke non-stop about the best things about the place I used to live in as a child. You would have grinned so hard if you possibly could. I remember very vividly that our affair started on my first day in an Indian school. Three girls walked up to me, shared my chips, and spoke to me for hours. I fell in love with you because of them.

Ever since that first day, you introduced me to pretty women and novels and parties. But here are the two things you gave me that I will forever be grateful for: my first heartbreak and poetry. I met the girl that would later promise me homemade cookies and personal stories and completely leave me in awe of her. I wrote poems with grammatical mistakes but a lot of love and short stories with tons of feelings just for this girl and that made me happy. She was way out of my league but exactly everything I would want. You have me things that made me ‘me’. How could I not call you home?

Delhi, I know I broke up with you abruptly and I miss you too, but I guess we weren’t meant to be. You’re still my home, though.

Write back to me someday?

A homesick me.

Instagram handle: @myspirals
Previous post: Two best friends and a strange story.
Related post: To all the #METOOs

Give me prompts in the comment section below and share if you liked this!

How extraordinary came to be.

I go through a personal tale to explain how the word extraordinary came to be. Bear with me and enjoy reading this! If not, feel free to read this instead.

As a ten-year-old, I always wondered how calling someone extraordinary was a compliment. Why was being more normal considered to be a great thing, and is that what my goal should be? To be a little more of everything that we all are? Apparently, yes. I was a fat kid with chubby cheeks who always had a smile on his face. I cried a lot and laughed even more. As a kid, I could run out of time in a game of Antakshri and still giggle. Pretty women and their hair flips, lipsticks and kind smiles fascinated me. I could play all day and still remember to complete my to-do list.  Continue reading How extraordinary came to be.

Existential crisis

Existential crisis

A big thank you to Heena for nominating me for the Blogger Recognition Award. Go check her blog out. I nominate Benefits with brain because of her lovely work. Click here for the rules : rules. Also, comment below if you’ve ever gone through an existential crisis. Enjoy!

Existential crisis.
One winter night,
Inside the folded pages of darkness and the moon,
On a terrace made of stone and expectations,
I lay under the stars,
As they looked down on me.
I gazed and felt
The cold wind’s hand on my speedbag face,
The curves of darkness and its nakedness,
The bare existence of my soul
that lay hidden inside the crumpled bed-sheets of this beautiful night.
I wondered and worried,
About things bigger than my eye-lashes and 11:11 wishes,
About things more important than betrayal and revenge,
About my mere existence.
Am I Chekhov’s gun?
(If in the first act you have hung a pistol on the wall,
then in the following one it should be fired.
If I exist,
I matter.)
Or am I a gun people keep hidden in drawers,
To mark their authority and ensure their security?
Are guns needed at all?
Am I even a gun?
What am I?
I looked for answers
Inside the folded pages of darkness and the moon.

Instagram handle: @myspirals
Previous post : Butterflies and crushes.
Related post : Languages, medicines and magicians.

Give me prompts in the comment section below and share if you liked this!


Every now and then, I write about myself, about how I am just another person, and about how I am an infinity. Christmas, hot chocolate and love have always been mentioned here or there in my poetry. Here is a small and brief glimpse into my obsession:

  1. 2009: We stopped at a gas station to buy food and coffee. I was nine, so I ran towards the chocolates aisle in the store close by. Meanwhile, my dad bought me ad my sister hot chocolate, sandwiches and cupcakes. He bought coffee and sandwiches for him and my mom. So we got into the car with the best food ever and drove around the streets of Dubai, listening and singing along to classical Indian music. I remember the taste of hot chocolate, the sound of my sister’s giggle, my dad’s smile and everything in between.
  2. 2013: Four families got together to celebrate Christmas. The music was too loud but no one cared, and the food smelled like god himself. I was thirteen and fat, because I didn’t yet know that you could, by choice, not eat delicious food. Eating it seemed kinda obvious to me. So as everyone grooved to the music, I danced too and ate something once in while. It was a party worth remembering and that’s when I became best friends with the amazing people I was dancing with. Every since that Christmas, many games, life saving advices and lame jokes have followed.
  3. 2014: Ninth grade has been the show stopper. I was in a history class, talking to my girl friend when this other girl entered the class. For the next two years, I had been madly in love with this other girl. She was like a walk in a park, except that the park was an amusement park and the walk was actually crazy, jaw dropping, breath taking rides. She had beautiful eyes that looked like an eclipse, and a smile like the fourth moon of the fortnight, a bright crescent. Her eyes had dark circles under them, and her arms had cuts. And every time I saw either, they recited a different story and wonderful poetry.

I started writing in 2014, so these three have always been something I find myself using in my poems. Here are ten random questions that I am answering to tell you more about me.

  • Are you scared of heights?
    ∞ I am. I’ve been on the tallest building on Earth and still, height freaks out.
  • What is at the top of your bucket list?
    ∞ I don’t really have an order. But I’ve always wanted to go Greece or Amsterdam.
  • What is the first book you remember reading?
    ∞ As funny as this sounds, my first book was a comic called Tinkle. But my first novel was Percy Jackson.
  • What is your eye color?
    ∞ I’d say dark brown.
  • Do you hold any convictions that you would be willing to die for?
    ∞ None that I am aware of. But I guess I’ll know when I have to.
  • What is your biggest fear?
    ∞ I am Atelophobic (the fear of not being enough)
  • One thing you know now that you wish you had known as a kid?
    ∞ That fears exists, probably.
  • Do you judge a book by it’s cover?
    ∞ I try not to, but I might subconsciously.
  • What makes you angry?
    ∞ Everything?
  • What are you attracted to in a woman?
    ∞ Preferably bold, frank and wild.

I hope you know me a little better today. Also, a shout-out to Hello Lauren for nominating me for the sunshine blogger award.  Tell me more about you in the comments section below. You can ask me questions too. I cannot wait to hear stories about you.