Night Time.

 Stars spark in the night sky.
Someone wishes for you to cry...

The Struggle Is Real.

                    Art: Pascal Campion 

For a few months now, whenever I share my future plans with people, I have been met with responses ranging from pity to sarcasm. 

I had something good and I threw it away. 

It wasn't in the least bit practical. 

Last year saw me with my own place, a good job and a satisfying relationship.

Why had I turned it all upside down? 

Why have I chosen something that is obviously difficult? 

Something that will make me a waiter. ( Pun intended

I have carefully reflected and pondered on my decisions in the first quarter of what can only go on to be, an eventful year. 

Yes, I had a place to lay my tired body. It was my own pad, a symbol of my new-found independence... But it did nothing to quell the loneliness every afternoon, when I returned and made a measley meal of 'khichdi' for my tired self. 

My job and relationship were learning spaces for me, where I had experiences that made me grow as a person. I can never forget them and I am immensely grateful for the love and support I got from there. But I had to move on. I had outgrown both. 

We spoil so many memories because we never know when to say 'goodbye'.

Yes, I am now the proud owner of a misty tomorrow- I don't know how things will play out for me. 

But I have made the choice to not settle for anything but what I really, really want to do.

No Comprises Allowed. 

I don't know how successful my present ideas will be, whether they will flesh out into sweet fruition, but I know that I only have that much time before I allow myself to get lost into the comforts of daily living again. 

I choose the Struggle. 

Knowingly. 

Foolishly. 

I have nothing to lose. 

Birds

 Art: Pascal Campion

Free-spirited birds
take shelter in the rain.
Their wings need rest
from all the flying.
It is a brief pause,
a moment of peace.
Before the storm clears
and they brace their air-destinations
with grace and faith.

100 words for a week. Day 7.

                           Stream-of-Semi-Consciousness

It started with that damn lemon platt.
And Joyce's Ulysses.
How the fuck can someone write so jaggedly and get away with it?
I would shoot myself if I was his Editor.
But then, I would also be super talented if I was Joyce's Editor.
Ah.
If only.
I wanted to be great. But now I'm part of these hacks Pope and Swift used to make fun of.
Well, there can only be one Poet Laureate in the world and it isn't me.
So, coming back to Stream-of-consciousness.
Where is my mind is a song by the Pixies and features in the movie 'Fight Club',
I have never watched it but I heard the song after my best friend died.
No, I don;t want to discuss Death.,
Oh look, it's 1:43 a.m.
More on that later.
Have I really met my 100 word quota?

100 words for a week. Day 6.

Dare to be Diffe-rant.

Sometimes, you do things that surprise even yourself. Things happen that you never thought would. And it's okay. I believe in a larger plan. There are patterns in the Universe that we can only dream about and then, not even that.

You get saturated of something and you need a break. And you realise a few things. Sabbaticals always help. You're always thinking, creating, working- even when you're not.

I would like to tell myself- that it's completely okay to be doing what I'm doing now.

Because, well, some are born with a break, some achieve a break and some have a break thrust upon them.

Lotsa love to my well-wishers.

And a super special shout-out to my rock, the one who has kept me going through all this- Mr. Patel, whenever you read this, please take a bow.

:)

(Yes, I know this is less than 100 words. But can you imagine, me creating a cartoon story-board thingy?)