An Old Book

There is something magical,

in the pages of this book

for it isn't new.

I like wondering about

the people who read it before me.

As I go on reading each page

I imagine them reading it too.

I think about their stories,

as they share this magic with me.

I know them by the lines they underlined

and by the note on the front page.

It seems like time has stood still

And I know them and they know me,

through the stories amid these pages.

I Choose to Breathe!

You are so dark,

How will I see you in the night?

He said it, and they laughed.

My heart cringed,

But I smiled.

I smiled for there was no better expression 

to hide my unsettling emotions.

This wasn't the first time, after all.

I looked like a man, she said

for I needed to get rid of the facial hair

to own my feminity; to be a lady.

I needed to sit cross-legged,

and talk and laugh slowly.

For that's how ladies are.

And here I was with chapped lips, no eyeliner

wondering if I will ever fit.

Your profile picture is pretty, 

but it needs to be edited.

I was asked to apply some filter,

that can hide the acne and dark circles

and make me look a little less chubby.

For chubby was bad, being lean was bad,

Acne and dark circles were not pretty,

But why assume I am seeking prettiness? 

In the age of push-up bras

and Instagram filters,

the definition of being beautiful has changed.

But I choose to not conform.

For I don't want to be your kind of beautiful.

The thick layer that you want me

to put on my face; suffocates me. 

And I choose to breathe.

The Untold Stories

I wonder if I will ever be able to tell them what it was like...

what it was like to cry myself to sleep, every day.

what it was like to not want to wake up in the morning.

For the time has gone,

And I am still alive.

I wonder if it is possible to weave those emotions and days into words?

The threads are loose and I am short of words

The words that I have are not enough,

To contain the emotions I felt back then.

I can't find a way to let these stories out,

They are buried inside me. Somewhere.

But I don't think they feel trapped.

My soul is their home,

and this is where they belong.

It will pass?

I have been telling them, it will pass,

But I am not sure if it will.

For "time" heals everything is an illusion,

A convenient comforting lie.

Do they think I am invalidating their pain?

Do you think I am?

Is comfort what they seek right now?

Or am I just being untrue to myself?

I have been there. I should know.

But I am not sure if it has passed for me.

Or if it will ever pass.

I ain't sure if "time" has managed to heal it.

What do I tell them, then?

That the pain will linger,

And you will learn to live with it.

Is that the truth? 

Or is it another comforting lie, 

that we are made to believe is true.

21-Aug-2017

I am 22 years old and this is a narrative of the day (21-Aug-2017) that changed my perspective towards life.

It was a regular day. I woke up and was rushing to get ready for office ignoring the slight pain that I had in my stomach since morning. I was planning my day and was only worried about some stupid song that has been playing in my head for I did not want to sing it aloud in front of people.

I reached office and attended a couple of meetings struggling with the pain that was still persistent. The doctor at the infirmary gave me a tablet for acidity but it didn’t work. I wanted to work so I sat on my workstation with a hot water bag trying to ignore the pain which was intensifying with every passing second.

Suddenly it shook me and I found myself crying and shivering because of the excruciating pain. That’s when my colleagues noticed me and decided to drop me home (hostel).

I came back home and was lying on the bed. I remember not being able to get up. I remember feeling helpless. All my efforts to get up and do something were going in vain. Suddenly, amidst that pain, I realized that my door is locked from inside and there was nobody on the floor due to office hours. The chain of thoughts that followed was scarier and hence I was pushing myself to keep my eyes open. Finally, after an hour of struggle, I was in my senses. I picked up my phone and called my aunt who lives nearby in the same city. My uncle and aunt came to pick me up in 15 mins and they took me to a hospital.

I was admitted to the emergency ward. By now, the pain that had started in the lower abdomen has reached to my shoulders. Every breath was painful. The doctor and I were still of the opinion that it was some sort of stomach infection. I was in pain but I hoped to be fine as soon as possible so that I could work on the new project at the office that I had been excited about for quite some time. The pain was still persistent and hence I was taken for an ultrasound.

The person who was doing the ultrasound looked shocked. I could hear the whispers in the room. I still remember the worried faces of the doctors and nurses. I remember my aunt calling my parents who were miles away in my hometown completely unaware of how things had unfolded since the morning. She told them that some cell has ruptured in the stomach due to which a lot of blood has released. I did not get enough time to think about how my parents must have reacted to this. I was on the stretcher now and was being taken to another room for CT scan. I had seen all this only on television and was scared if this test is going to be painful. The irony of the situation was that any amount of pain could not have added to my suffering for I was already in a lot of pain.

All the tests were done. I was screaming on the stretcher in the emergency ward. My brother was arranging blood donors, the doctors were taking my signature on the consent forms as I was going to be operated. The chaos was not only around me, it was inside me as well. I asked the doctor if I was going to be okay and she said, certainly. That time was the scariest time of my life. I was not able to breathe properly. The worried faces of doctors were not hidden to me. In that pain also, I could sense the risk. I was scared because I wanted to live. People who die in their early twenties never plan death, in fact, no one does. Everyone plans life. I remember being scared of death. My mind was hounded with questions like what will happen if I die? Where will I go? In that moment I was collecting all my inner strength that can make my desire to live stronger. It is so easy to fall in self-pity and hate your life but that one moment made me realize how precious life is. It is very difficult for me to describe how badly I wanted to survive this and get back to work or my normal routine.

I was taken to the operation theatre. I asked Dr. Pallavi if it is going to hurt. She said I won’t feel a thing. That did not calm me down for it might be one of the lasts. One of the last moment when I am in senses. I might not be able to come to senses ever again. I asked the doctor again, this time directly. Am I going to die? She said firmly, no. We’re going to save you, don’t worry. After that, I don’t remember anything.

I opened my eyes. It was a dark room. I could see patients around me. My mind was at peace now. The chaos has subsided. I was happy to be alive. My aunt came to see me and I asked her what is the time. She said it’s 11 PM and you are completely fine now. My parents came to meet me around 1. I remember not being able to laugh or cry because of the stitches on the stomach. I distinctly remember the nurse who was there to give me water. She was around whole night and was beside me on every beck and call. She told me how human beings get scared of little injuries. She said nothing has happened to you and you will be completely fine by morning. She knew nothing about me or how critical I was a few hours ago but she said it with such a conviction that I believed her. She played a big role in my recovery for I believed what she said. I believed her when she told me everything is fine. I woke up early next morning. And after a long time saw the sunrise from the big glass window beside my bed.

My friends visiting me in hospital

I was in ICU the whole day, mostly alone except the visiting hours when friends and relatives were coming to see me. There were only patients and nurses. I was surprised to see the devotion with which they were serving us. Nursing is one of the noblest profession in the world. After the surgery, the days that followed were also difficult for I was not able to walk on my own. Being completely helpless brought a new humility in my life. Thinking that you are self-sufficient and you do not need anyone is the biggest illusion of a human being. You will always need people in your life. Nursing can also be a depressing job for you are always around diseased people but what I experienced in those two days was unimaginable. I remember how the smile of that nurse filled me with hope.

Dad feeding me

My doctor told me that she saw a case like this in 1993 and then it was mine. I came out of that pain fit and fine. After the treatment, while I was recovering, there used to be moments of self-pity. I hated being helpless, not being able to do daily chores on my own. I hated not being able to go to the office. But the redemption was the memory of that moment when I was in the emergency ward and the only thing that I wanted was life.

I am only 22 and have a bucket full of aspirations and dreams. I want to live those dreams and am glad that I got another chance.

A chance to live!

My First Book

I was 12 years old when I read my first novel. I picked it up from my school library. I had never heard of that book before. My teacher did not ask me to read it, neither was it recommended by my friends. It was completely a random pick from a random bookshelf in the library. I guess what attracted me towards the book was the book cover. I could relate so much to that girl on the cover.

I don’t remember much about the book now but as I began reading it, I remember falling in love with Matilda, the character. I remember seeing so much of me in her. I remember how the clumsy-little-shy girl inside me found a new friend.

That is how my love for books began. As I grew up, I kept falling in love with different characters and stories. But Matilda, among all of them, is still closest to my heart, for that was my first book which made me realize that “between the pages of the books is a lovely place to be.”

Thank you, Roald Dahl! :)

Adulting

I graduated in 2016 leaving behind three of my best friends: Ranabir, Sutirtha, and Purvash. Ranabir was my batch mate whereas Sutirtha and Purvash were my juniors. Words won’t be enough even if I dare to talk about the relationship that all of us had with each other. I shared a unique bond with all three of them and it was beautiful. The only assurance that I had on the day of my farewell was that we are still going to be in the same city. Ranabir decided to stay in Delhi and prepare for masters whereas the other two were still in their final year of college. I was placed in Gurgaon only, so I knew that I could easily meet them on weekends.

This is us on the day of my college farewell. 

I joined my new job in Gurgaon in June 2016. The company hired around 40 graduates from different colleges of Delhi University. So, I wasn’t alone. We all were fresh from college and were looking forward to our first corporate exposure. Before joining in Gurgaon, we had a one-month residential training camp in Neemrana. It was called a boot camp. I got to know some amazing people there. Three of them became really good friends. Riddhi, Saahil, and Sumedha. The office was awesome because they were around. We shared and cherished some beautiful moments together. I still remember the day we got our first salary. Now when I look back, I think the office was what it was because of these three. From doing stupid and crazy stuff to working hard on our projects we did everything together. The year went by like a dream.

This is my office gang.

Fast forward to June 2017. I was standing in the Oxford Book Store (Connaught Place, Delhi) buying six farewell gifts. All my six friends have either left the city or are leaving in a couple of days. That moment when I was thinking about them and trying to look for a perfect gift for each one of them was my loneliest moment ever.

The feeling that none of them are around is yet to sink in. But probably this is the first milestone, the first lesson of adult life. People come and they leave.

It is not wrong to be attached but as they say, it’s also very important to know how to be detached as and when required.

Thank You!

Do you remember the last time you thanked your mom or dad?

I don’t.

I was amused when I suddenly thought about it. I must have said thank you zillion times, at least. From a pizza delivery boy to an auto driver to even the irritating insurance executive, I have thanked everyone but my parents. We thank our friends for staying in touch, for coming over, for listening to us, and sometimes for just being there. What is the problem then?

Why have I never thanked my mom or dad?

It’s just weird. I don’t know how to say “thank you” or “I love you” to them. I have been sharing all the facts about my life with them but I haven’t learned to share my feelings yet. I can tell them that I am sick but I don’t know how to tell them that I am in pain. I can tell them that I am happy but I don’t know how to hug them or give them a peck on their cheek.

I remember when my mom used to wake up at five in the morning to prepare breakfast and tiffin for me and my siblings. I have two brothers and we always wanted different items and she never said no. There were times when she made Paratha and bhindi for me, puri and chole for my younger brother, and some other dish for the youngest one. She did it all happily. She used to be on her toes even when we came back from school. She has been my alarm for seventeen years. Now when I think of it, all of it looks so overwhelming. She never shouted at me when I kept saying mummy paanch minute aur. She was kind, patient yet firm. Whenever I was low or felt pessimistic about anything, she used to come and sit with me and utter that one phrase that made no sense to me at that time but leaves me with a lump in my throat now. “Meri beti nahi kar paayegi toh matlab koi nahi kar paayega” or “Aisa kuch nahi hai jo tu nahi kar sakti”. I wonder if she thought I was a superwoman or something. She somehow made sure that everything was in place and she did it all so effortlessly. She made sure that we were given everything that we needed even if we did not ask for it. I have seen her fighting for us over things that I never thought mattered but probably it did matter to her. Now, it has been four years living away from home and there hasn’t been a day when I have not missed her for the tiniest things that are not done because she isn’t here. She never preached yet taught me so many things. 

I remember, in class 9th, I came running to her from school to tell her that there was a guy who had confessed “I love you” to me. She laughed. Yes, she made me see the humor in the situation which I thought was so serious. She has always had a unique way of handling things which is so simple, non-chaotic, and funny. I have seen adults around me burdened with all the melancholy and responsibilities that life brings with itself. My mom is not an “adult”. She never let life take a toll on her. She never lost the child inside her. And believe me, it is so refreshing and reassuring to see her being the way she is.

My dad is the exact opposite of my mom, I guess that’s how God restores balance in everyone’s lives. He is the mature one in the relationship. All through my school years, I have seen my father working hard to raise his beautiful family. He used to be busy but he never missed a moment in our lives. Not a single award function or annual day. Probably that was his way of showing that he is there and will always be. When I was in class 10th, my school planned an adventure camp for us. Some of my classmates were going and some were not. I wanted to go but since I have never been a demanding or rebellious child, I decided that I would ask once and if my dad says “no” I will be okay with it. It was a 10-day trip to the mountains where there would have been no connectivity. Basically, we had to trek and stay in tents in freezing temperatures. Also, the school was charging a huge sum of money for it. So, at the back of my mind, I knew that he would say “no” and he said “no”. I don’t remember how I felt but as decided I did not insist any further. After that, every day in school when I saw my classmates discussing it, I felt bad. A day before the trip, my father told me that I am going and that he gave the check to school a week back and all this was only because he wanted to give me a surprise. At that moment, I wanted to hug him and tell him “thank you” but I could not. I regret not being able to thank him for giving me the best 10 days of my life, for not being an over-protective parent, and for letting me go. This was not the only incident. My father allowed me to go to school on cycle when everyone including my mother and grandmother weren’t sure about it. My neighbors asked him not to do so because it wasn’t safe. I don’t think that my father did not know that it wasn’t safe but probably he knew that he can’t keep me in a cage because the world outside was not safe. He has always been a protective father but I have also seen him trying hard to not let his concern for my safety come in the way of my freedom. He allowed me to learn swimming and Kathak. It all might sound extremely normal today but it wasn’t at that time. At least not in the society that I hail from. I always felt privileged when I saw girls around me, for my father let me do things that they were never allowed to do. He had tears in his eyes when I got my result in class 10th and class 12th. One of the best memories of my childhood is seeing him collect awards on my behalf. My father is a fighter, he taught me to not give up on things. He is a visionary, a path breaker. He was never scared of doing things that he felt were right. He has never tried to conform to the stereotypes of the society that we live in.

I am not saying that a “thank you” for all this would suffice, but every once in a while telling them that “you are the best parent in the world” or “I love you” would do no harm. While I understand that a parent-child relationship is full of unsaid things, I also think that sometimes people need to hear someone say it out loud. And saying it out loud sometimes does wonders, for it keeps them going, it gives them the assurance that they are right, and it gives them the courage to keep doing what they have been doing.

While reading this epiphany if you felt the same, go pick up your phone and say, “thank you” to the most beautiful people in your life and believe me, their reaction will melt your heart and make you ask yourself that why didn’t you say it before and what took you so long? 

There’s magic hidden in little things, go find it.

Hello

Hello Everyone,

This is Prakriti, a 22-year old Piscean who is trying to figure out life (and this blog :D).

I am not an intellectual and I do not have intelligent opinions on politics, sports or art. I am not the person who can analyze the economy of this country or comment on inflation and GST. 

This blog would just be my way of expressing what I feel as an individual. I might talk about some movie that I liked and why did it make me cry. At times I would talk about home and how much I miss it. I can talk about books and Bollywood. I can talk about my friends and the FRIENDS (TV show). Once in a while, I will also tell you about the people I have been admiring. I will talk about life and how growing up sucks. 

I mostly live in my own world that is not-so-full of people. Zoning-out is my thing so please don't mind if I ask you to repeat what you just said. :P

So there I am, a huge fan of Phoebe Buffay and in love with Harry Potter. :)