mushroom cottage

Dear Diary

self love

life

choice

Fairies

A Summer Vacation

A Summer Vacation

The first thing I did when the vacation began was to make a list. I have this habit of making to do lists that tend to be useful at times. There is always a list at hand. Urgent tasks, pending work, small details that might slip away especially since the time I crossed thirty-five and seem to have acquired a talent for forgetting. It runs in the family. I remember my aunt who, in the pre-mobile era, carefully wrote down every important phone number in a notebook—only to forget where she had kept the notebook itself.

This vacation, I told myself, would be different. I thought of making healthy changes in my diet and starting to exercise. My body resisted, my mind wandered, but something in me wanted to persist. There were also reminders of limitations such as high blood pressure, thyroid issues, fatigue, the discomfort of summer heat, a lingering sense of mental unrest. I thought of becoming a fitter person by the end of this summer vacation.

Instead, I found myself immersed in four seasons of Never Have I Ever, caught up in the chaos of Devi Vishwakumar’s life. It may be a show meant for teenagers, but it stirred memories—how confusing those years had been, how uncertain I had felt. Some emotions do not age; they simply wait for the right story to awaken them. Around me,the TBR pile kept on accumlating: Young Forever, It’s Easy to Be Healthy, The 5 AM Club. I read about discipline, about transformation, about becoming a better version of oneself. The ideas were inspiring, but inspiration, I realised, is fleeting. Still, I tried.

Then my sleep cycles became disturbed with afternoon sleep. Sleep became erratic. The afternoons stretched long and drowsy, the nights restless. I thought about waking early, about the idea of brahmamuhurtham, that sacred quiet before dawn. I have always been an evening person, but I wondered if mornings might hold a different kind of clarity. One day, I managed it. I woke early, walked, read, and felt, briefly, a return of something I had once known—a sense of purpose, of alignment. It reminded me of another time, years ago, when I had first read The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari. Back then, life had seemed full of promise.

There were interruptions such as travel, hospital visits, health concerns, unfinished work waiting quietly in the background. There were days of complete inertia, when even getting out of bed felt like an effort. Days when the question arose, uninvited: What for? Sometimes it is just a dull heaviness, a lack of direction, a quiet erosion of meaning.

My sole refuge was journaling and I tried looking at the empty page with a new understanding. It  became a habit and refuge by being a new way to make sense of inner turbulence. A way to remind myself that my story, however small it may seem, belongs to a larger human pattern. The days had blurred into monotony—sleep, heat, small attempts at discipline, small failures. I walked a little, ate a little better, tried to bring order into my surroundings. I thought about writing a book—The Diary of a Female Quixote—a collection of reflections shaped into something meaningful.

The desire to write comes in bursts and there are moments when you feel that you want to record every passing moment and narrate stories about your existence. In those moments, I am certain that I will write something worth reading, something that will endure. By morning, the certainty fades, replaced by doubt, by routine, by the ordinary weight of life.

I am half way through my vacation and I walk occasionally and try to eat healthy. This vacation did not transform me in any dramatic way. I did not complete my lists. I did not become disciplined overnight. I did not solve the deeper questions that trouble me. But I have made an attempt to write a summer journal and tried in small ways to care for myself. I hope that I continue journaling though not daily but at least whenever the burst of creativity reaches me.

 

 

anger

feel

good things

Nature

reading

rich

Us

I have a self that knows years of sense and more nonsense. I stand alone in crowds yet walk with you in green fields at the same time. I run in many new paths sitting at my armchair though I never leave my  world but for fresh signs or old paths. 

You are my other self, whom I do not know for I have never seen you as you really are, for I was struck blind by your light. and love was something that naturally followed. You were not with me in the physical sense yet I know you were with me in each and every circle round the holy fire and will find you near me in every dream.  

You are my favourite daydream that I return to time and again just to hold your hand in an unreal realm where rules don't matter and hearts speak only the truth. In another world, in a different circle of life, you and I will win our eternal game of love and may understand each other perfectly well. For us, time and space have never been important concerns for both of us and all that remains is the sense of unconditional love for the self and the other.

Diary of a Female quixote

Morning Potion

Venting

feel

storytelling

Green Again

A bit of bright blue sky to sing aloud;  

A pelt of rain to sleep comfortably;
A bit of thunder and lightning to look
And feel brave and happy at times.

The swooping  airshow by the kites;
Caught by the eye and not on the lens,
The evening palettes in hues of blue,
That brings back some thoughts of you.

Like a chorus in a song, you play nonstop,
While I watch the skies and the rain,
Look at the fresh green banyan leaves
Turn wan in the summer sun like me.

The tiny heart-shaped leaves will flicker,
And our hearts will turn green once again.

Two of Cups

Though we may be apart, in a sense we are always together, across all lives, present and future. For this sense of aloneness creeps on you when you stand in the crowds.

You are my other half, my twin flame in this life, for it is with you that my dreams run wild and I weave stories of togetherness in an unreal realm. And, I have become like you in the years that followed.

In a way, when I look back on life, like a traditional Indian bride, I have walked with you around every revolution around the sun, I have stayed loyal to your love and held your name holy like a talisman.

You are my other self, whom I do not know for I have never seen you as you really are, for I was struck blind by your light. Yet I know you were with me in each and every circle round the holy fire and will find you near me in every dream. 

Even when I dream, you are with me and I return to your thoughts time and again just to hold your hand in an unreal realm where rules don't matter and hearts speak only the truth. In another world, in a parallel universe, we celebrate our life of eternal togetherness.

It is destiny that brought us together and again we spend our time chatting away about how life has been during these years of absence. I dream of a life of togetherness again, stargazing or soul gazing or learning more of each other.

And, though apart in real, in every circambulation around the sun, you and I will grow together in wisdom and though our lives will remain apart, you and I will find that this sense of oneness with each other in spirit, that itself is a reason for celebration. 

 

The Unsent Letters

Dear Sean

Do you remember how you had given me a CD of popular songs and soon they became my favourites as well. It was your way of making people happy that made you a favourite among them.  I was smitten by your charm and what was missing after you were gone was your ways of making one feel special.

The OSTs from popular movies were my favourites- be it Titanic or Armageddon or Robinhood. Our world revolved around discussions about books, films and music. This year, as I am making a playlist memories of our candid chats pop up before me and once again I feel happy to have met you though we lost touch somewhere along the way. This year, I will create a playlist for you so that you will get a chance to listen to my favourites and croon them in your melodious way.

Love

Berry

 

The Unsent Letters

 

 

Dear Sean, 

Just the other day, I heard the song Phir Le Aaya Dil from the movie Barfi on the radio. I was transported to the time when we were head over heels in love with each other. When I think of our days at college, I wonder how naive we were and what a beautiful bond we shared. 
 

For me, you were a refuge from the troubles of this world and your hand held unconditional support in those days. Now, in an era of infinite longing, I am reminded of those good old days of togetherness,whenever I hear this song. 

Love

Berry 

 

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