P's Notes

oh god, i didn't see this coming. did you? i used to mock my mother i said i see no dust,  what are you dusting? why are you changing this bedsheet? it seemed ok to me oh god i have become my mother i spent the first day of my year-end holiday cleaning my desk putting my work laptop in a bag and shutting it down for four days changing the bedsheets dusting the bookshelf i have become my mother i like cooking nimona it takes effort but i don't mind the effort it reminds me of childhood winters when we sat in the sun not alone with chachis and cousins and peeled peas for hours i don't remember the conversations clearly but i remember the occasional antakshari and tipi tipi top there was no rush there was no desire to see the sunset also we didn't have phones to think of taking a photo there was no gram and nothing gramworthy we sat till we heard the sound of the motorcycle coming towards the house and knew it was time for chai and pa was home Note to self: You think while

 You remember as kids we used to have slam books where our friends would fill their favourite colours, favourite city, favourite actor, etc, etc. And as we grow up, we usually grow out of favourites. Either there are many things to like in a category and you can never pick one or you have stopped caring about the category altogether. Who cares about a favourite colour anymore? (I'm sorry if you do). However, today I was thinking about my favourite day in a week and even though the options are only seven the decision was not difficult at all. My favourite day is Saturday.   Saturday marks the end of a work week. It's the first day after a series of five days when I am not waking up in a hurry to log in to my work laptop. Even if I wake up early, I still have the time to lounge around and look at the money plant on my work desk being greeted by the morning sun.  I usually start by making my bed and opening the curtains. The morning sun makes me feel better immediately. On Saturda

I hardly ever write about the good days. The need to vent and get it out of my system often leads me to this blog. On the days that are not overcast and I can sit and eat rajma chawal on my sunlit balcony without worrying about work, I  feel. I feel a lot but I don't sit to write. Does that happen to you? It's Monday and I am recovering from a weekend that involved a lot of feelings. Saturday was calm and I wondered if sunlight could make me so happy, why do I need the money? If you can derive pleasure from nature and people, which is the truest kind of pleasure I believe, then maybe capitalism might not be able to weigh you down? I don't know. These are just thoughts. Good to think about them, hard to pursue them. Saturday was also about a cup of coffee during the sunset with a long conversation with Purvash. We talked and talked each other into it and then out of it.  Purvash and I talk a lot (to each other). Sometimes our conversations are in sync, we are both enabling e

Okay, so in an effort to be completely honest with my blog and also to test if journalling can truly make one feel better, I am here again for the second time today.  I worked from home today so this day shouldn't have ended like this but ah who can predict, right? I was crazy busy today between 10:30 to 5. In between, I took a one-hour break to cook, eat, and take a shower. I was running in the break though, literally jumping from one thing to another. It didn't help that I decided to wash some of my woolens today. But somehow right when I was going to finish work around 5ish, Google News decided to show me a notification that talked about B12 deficiency in vegetarians and its severe impact on a particular girl. I was already tired but I started feeling really low especially after looking at this notification. Can your mental health or how you are feeling at a particular moment affect you physically? I think it does. I feel that my mental health has physical manifestations. Ho

I feel quite uninspired and blank. Before coming here, I scrolled through everything that I could. I don't know what to write about today. I was working and thinking about a piece for months. I sat on it for so long that I kept missing deadlines. Somehow I finished working on it yesterday and sent it to the editor. The default expectation is always rejection but let's see. I am also imagining and wondering what if it gets accepted. But it feels like that piece has left a void. Last few months, I had something that I was supposed to work on. Now my mind is looking for a new subject. I am reading Mason Currey's book. It has all these stories about women artists and how they worked, what was their daily routine like. I love reading/watching the daily routines/rituals of people. It's strange and weird. This need to be so voyeuristic. But it is what it is I guess.  Anyway, this book is extremely inspiring. It tells you how despite all kinds of adversities and responsibilitie

Am I honest with this blog? Can we ever be completely honest outside of our heads? There are thoughts that cross my mind all the time and are so strange that I don't even want to document them anywhere or say them aloud. They are not things I want or think about, but somehow the fleeting thought doesn't care about that. It comes, if it has to.  Think about the weirdest thought you had today? What is it? Can you say it out aloud to someone? On my way to the office, in the auto-rickshaw, I often think about me rolling down or stumbling and falling out of the rickshaw. Sometimes I also imagine my head flying out of the rickshaw (something like what Alia Bhatt did in Brahmastra). If we are ever on a quiet road, I think about the driver taking me somewhere else and violating me. When I see an ambulance on the road, I think about the urgency of the siren, of the person whose loved one is on the stretcher.  The other day I saw a guy standing across the bus stop and it seemed like he w

I always take too long to come to this. I don't know if it's the fear of a blank page or just the usual habit of procrastinating everything. Even the feeling of accomplishment and the so-called 'joy of writing' which I genuinely feel every time I write is not enough to push me to be here sooner. I had dinner, switched off the tv, cleaned the house a little bit unnecessarily, played music, scrolled through my phone, and a couple of blogs that I follow and when finally there was nothing more to look at, I decided to open the blog. It's been a weird day. Work was tough, although I was working from home which always makes it better. I have told you how much I like the sunlight. My work desk at home is near a window and the light was falling on my face while I was on a video call. It was making me look a little better haha. There is also a mirror right beside my work desk so I was peeping and looking at myself in between and what that sunlight was doing to me. I know my

 I was watching an interview series yesterday that talked about violence and cinema and was hosted by Varun Grover. At some point, Grover said that all Indian parents want their kids to make Baghban.  His comment took me back to the day when I watched this film with everyone at home. As I grew up, and my parents grew older somehow their interest in cinema deteriorated. Maybe adulthood and responsibilities did that. I am not sure. However, the memory of watching certain films is still fresh in my mind. Like it happened yesterday. Baghban is one of them. Amma, papa, mummy everyone was crying by the end of it, as expected. I don't remember how I felt exactly after the movie. What I remember is that my father (being his very own self) asked both Prakhar and me to write a movie review of sorts.  I wrote a three-page essay I think. However, I remember wanting to write a lot more. I was reading a story at that time (I think it was a comic book). In the story, a girl was asked to write an

I leave drafts unfinished Sometimes I don't find the words to write the story that's been coming to me for months Often, I get scared and delete the four lines that I wrote I hated the four lines anyway How does it matter The idea still lives in my head, it doesn't leave I moved on to something else Something that's easier, that's passive in a hope that I will come back someday and write without the fear of a blank page and without deleting the beginnings Bad days are too bad  I can only manage to finish work  and eat and sleep, sleep a lot Good days are too good make me happy and jumpy  takes away the motivation to write how do I find the medium ones,  the days I can write on? I remain restless with words still struggling to come out

 [7:05] I have been up since 6:30. A bad dream mimicking the past reality woke me up. My full bladder didn't let me go back to sleep.  My past, my childhood never leaves me. I often wish there was an antagonist there. Someone I can blame, who had no context, no backstory and neither a good intention. It would have made my story easier and simpler. I would have had someone to blame for the bad dreams. I wish I found it easier to blame people without looking at their context. I always end up thinking about their context, how did they grow up, what they didn't have, and why they behave as they do.   I have a fear of people screaming and yelling. When I see someone yelling, my mind automatically starts imagining the far worst things and situations possible. I don't know how I am able to imagine those situations because I have never really seen them unfold. I might have seen them on TV or imagined them while reading/watching the news. News is the worst. I remember the term dushk

Shampooing my hair seems to be one of the biggest struggles in life. Some women shampoo alternate days, some twice a week, I wait for the entire week to wash my hair. I wait till it becomes greasy and unbearable. I have thought about breaking this pattern but I am not sure if I have made enough effort. Yesterday while watching someone's vlog, I suddenly decided to spend (or waste?) some money on a fancy conditioner, hair oil and a face mask. I am not a face mask person. I have never used it. But it seems like a good idea suddenly. I was happy when it got delivered. I have not used it till now though. It claims to remove blackheads and whiteheads and help with acne-prone skin. I mean why not! I hope I start using the hair oil I have bought. I haven't been able to write. That half-written piece will choke me it seems but I still won't be able to finish it. Let's see. After two days, yesterday I woke up not feeling tired. My throat was feeling better suddenly. The day went

 [11:12] I can't believe there is a dear diary situation going on here. I maintained many diaries growing up. Didn't know will end up replicating something similar in an online blog. The Sunday evening dread has set in. I have to go to work tomorrow. I feel tired thinking about it. There are a couple of blogs I visit every day in a hope that there might be a new post. I like reading about other people's anxieties and the mundane details of their everyday life. It's comforting. I had a dream last night. I was in my in-law's place. My mother-in-law's mother had come to meet me and I didn't have sindoor in my bag. I was freaking out. I don't remember what happened after. This phrase was ringing in my head after coming back from work on Friday - The banal worries of a woman's life. In the auto, while coming back from work, I was thinking about how will I dress up when his folks come to my place here, how will the routine look like, what will we eat, and

I finally spent some time researching and writing today.  Still managed to waste a lot of time watching videos and scrolling through Twitter. However, also happy about some progress. I want to finish the piece by this Sunday, at least the first draft. Writing gives me less time to overthink, which is a good byproduct for someone like me. I have been quite anxious lately and a lot of times there is not even a trigger. My breathing pattern changes. I start taking shorter breaths. I get restless and irritable. Apparently work is going to increase this month. Hoping that it doesn't but let's see.  As an adult, it's sometimes hard for me to find out who is a friend and who isn't but it often feels that the people I consider friends are not really encouraging or aren't happy for me. This makes me question the entire point of friendship! I have also lately made peace with the idea of not having friends. Maybe Purvash, work, writing, and books are enough to keep me busy and

Have you watched the show Girls ? If you are a woman reading this and have not watched the show, please do. I think it's streaming on Hotstar.  There is a scene where Hanna Horvath finally gets a writing job in a famous magazine. She soon realises that it's not a real writing gig. She would not be a staff writer but would be writing advertorials. The perks of the corporate job, free snacks, and a good chair, all seem a sham now. She cries. Talks to some of her colleagues who were also writers in college, before they got this job. They won competitions, wrote poetry, and drama but have not written anything for years now. One of them tells her that even though he has not been able to do it, it's still possible. He says, you only have to go home and write for three hours before going to bed. Hanna agrees, comes back home with a plan, but ends up falling asleep on the sofa itself without writing a word. The scene hit me hard.  I have also been doing jobs that are not real writi

 [8:24 AM] After writing the last blog, I got inspired to declutter my notes group on Whatsapp. I read about this app on Twitter (Notion) that allows you to make lists and immediately downloaded it. Then last morning, while being in bed, I reorganised my reading list. The list that I have made from the book mentions in some of my favourite blogs, a few Twitter threads, etc. Today I downloaded a few of those books. A couple of months ago, I was not able to read at all and I was mostly spending my time binging and scrolling through. Then somehow Deborah Levy pulled me back and just like that I am reading again. It makes me happy. I am travelling for work today. I will be spending the next three nights at three different locations. The thought doesn't excite me though. It actually bothers me. I am most worried about toilets. So now you will hear from me next week, I think. On some days, I like the silence of mornings, it calms me down. While on others, it bothers me and I start spiral

[10:20 PM] I changed the name of my blog today. It's named after two fictional characters that have influenced me the most.  Phoebe Buffay, I loved watching you in my early twenties. Hannah Horvath, you made my late twenties more interesting.  There have been so many more women who I have loved watching on screen. I have wanted to become them. Maybe in my pursuit, I also imbibed some of what they had. From Jo March to Anne to Lorelai Gilmore and Carrie Bradshaw even Jules Ostin and Ayesha Banerjee.  I grew up in a small town watching YRKKH on StarPlus and so much of what I thought at that point was because of these TV shows. Much later, when I moved to Delhi and especially when I moved to Bombay for TISS, I was exposed to content that had real women. Women that I was looking for. Women who I could relate to. Women who made me feel less alone. Women who taught me what no education could ever teach me. I wish and hope that someday I am able to write about these women and also those w

It's been 18 days since I have written here. I was supposed to write every day. In the last 18 days, I have thought about writing every day though. I am reading a writer's (Deborah Levy's) three part memoir. I am watching this show called 'Girls' where the protagonist is a writer. I think about writing and the struggles of it all the time. However, it still took me 18 days to come back here. Today was also hard. It was a long day. A lot of it was spent in the auto going and coming back from work. I don't particularly hate travelling for work. At least on most days. Especially when the podcast episode that I am listening to interests me. The long auto ride seems worth it then.  A friend asked me yesterday - 'Are you writing' I said no.  I wanted to explain her, tell her why I am not writing. But in, my head all of it seemed like excuses that I didn't want to say out loud. It been almost a month since I have received an editor's response over an id

I had weird last 24 hours. I witnessed how two women turn on each other because of one man. And how the entire world blames either of the two women but the man still gets away. The women blame each other. The world blames them and calls them names. They become the hysterical witches who are paranoid and insecure and unnecessarily possessive. While this man who grew up in a sexist setup, and was never taught how to be with women is in a position of power and influence now. It's a shit show. This man's world is a shit show. ------------------------------------- I have realised that if I want to write this blog consistently, I will have to make sure that I take out 30 mins for this in the morning. The day just goes by and in the evening I don't feel like writing. Sometimes I feel that I seek too much comfort. I am watching a lot of silent vlogs these days. Especially House Number 26 . It's weird but I find it calming to watch women on the screen do mundane everyday activit

 [11:55 PM] I didn't want to write today. I am just here because they say that showing up every day is important. I had a lot of work. I did some. Went out to have dinner with a relative who was in my city by chance. Overthought. Overshared. Felt vulnerable and tried to not overthink it. Drowned the voices in my head by watching a Youtube video and now I am in bed.  There is too much food in the fridge and it is bothering me. I also don't like most of it, which makes it worse. I read my last two blogs and cringed. It felt so unnecessary and self-indulgent. What's the point plus it's not even good writing. On most days I don't like what I write, or how I write. There is just this desire to write like those few people who I like to read. Sometimes it feels like I don't want it enough. I have an editor's response to a pitch I sent two weeks ago. I need to work on that but I am not doing it. Okay, going to sleep now. Bye!

[7:18 AM] It's hard to form sentences right now. My thoughts are all over the place. I woke up at 6 and then slept again only to see a weird dream. I don't know what it means. I met my school friend who recently got married in my hometown. She told me that she and her husband are living separately because it was good for her career. She also said that she was becoming dependent on him a lot for her happiness. ---------------------- I was an obedient child. I was raised to be one. I always thought that if my parents are giving me freedom and letting me study in the best school, I should be grateful to them. I strived to be a good child and consistently sought their approval. I thought I needed to do that and only then will I be allowed to go to a big city and follow my dreams. I didn't have dreams though. Apart from moving to a big city and earning my own money. My only motivation to do well in school was that I didn't want to be one of the women I grew up with.  Even th

[7:24 AM] It's a Monday morning. I have woken up like a zombie. Didn't have a good sleep. But turns out, that it's a good day to start something that I have been wanting to start for weeks now. Julie and Julia + Rumlolarum + Atomic Habits + My own desire to call myself a writer led me here. It took me so much time to start this because I was terrified of failing. It's not easy to do something consistently. I didn't want to add this one to the list of unfinished things that I wanted to do but could never do. But now I am here.  I am going to start blogging. Everyday. Yes. Why? I will tell you: I want to write every day even if I am not getting paid for it. I think if not better, it will at least make me a more disciplined writer. The idea of having a ritual or something that you do every day, on good and bad days fascinates me. It's extremely challenging but also exciting.  I have a lot of thoughts. Too many thoughts I would say. And a release might just do good