Reading some of the people

what about the people you come across everyday? Do you care to pause and guess their story? How much do you decipher about their life from what you see?

I saw this man, elderly, in the dining hall of the hotel i was staying in. I was there for complimentary breakfast; I assumed he was there for the same too. Plain, nothing mystical about his appearance or behaviour. He was with this woman, almost half of his age, could be his daughter, could be anyone else, no one knows. She had an American accent, so much that even her Bengali sounded a lot like English. He sat there, in the table at the corner of the room, ordering food he’ll probably never finish. What distinguished him from what my mind thinks inn plain, is that for the three days that i saw him, I noticed he always avoids sitting on the seat that faces the window. “You know i get uncomfortable when i face the window”, he says to the woman he’s with. Why i never knew and probably never will.

The little girl in the metro, jumping along with her father, probably on the way home from a half in playschool. Innocent, unaware of how fast life sometimes gets, so much that no amount of painting can catch up to its pace. But she’s happy, even in the crowd, she has her father’s hand to hold, and what else does a girl of five need?

The Sardar uncle from the grocery store, one side of his spectacle frame is broken, he hasn’t fixed it yet. Probably earns just enough to maintain his family, after all the debts that people take and all the bills that need to be paid. Maybe fixing the broken frame is a luxury, not qualified as a necessity yet, probably will never be. Yet he smiles at anyone who stops by at his shop, adjusting his spectacles like they’re windows to the world outside.

The lady sitting next to me in the e-rickshaw, talking on the phone to someone about taking a half day on Saturday because it’s Holi. Who doesn’t like a day off from work and spend some quality time with their family? I think she’ll ask her seniors at the office. I hope they give her a holiday.

People are so interesting, with their never ending stories and intricacies.

I am glad to read some of them.

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The inside story

I like the beginning things on random notes, so no matter how often someone tells me to clear the mess on my bed, I’d probably tell them why the Sherlock poster right on the next wall is my favourite.

Let’s meet someday, and I’ll tell you about things i like and other things i find beautiful and the thin line of difference between both. I’ll tell you that i think pregnant women look divinely beautiful and that flowers look better in a garden than in the bouquet.

Sometimes, i wonder if i left traces of myself in people, would the person in the mirror look hollow? I think  of lovers that don’t exist, the kind who’d have let me plant flowers on their tongue so that every time i wish to pluck a rose, i could kiss them instead. But they’re there only in my head, immaterial, like conversations that didn’t happen or like the dead cells on the mosaic floor.

It’s a little funny how almost always is backed up by the guilt of some kind , that in times when people around are mourning, all you can think of is the reasons how you could probably have let something not happen. But there it stays, like a piece of metal tied to your chest, dragging you down every time you try to breathe

And just because i can’t sum a lot of things in words, I just as might tell you, I like random endings too.

To the Home

Looking at the calendar

Counting the number of days left!

In a daze thinking about the good time, you spent with your loved ones.

Living the passion of your life in an unknown land.

Packing tales and goods to share with your comfortable clan.

Just wondering HOW many dreams and memories do the trains, buses and flights, carry on every Friday evenings.

The finite journey to experience infinite love.

As we grow up, we realise,

Vacations are not the ones that we planned during our school days to Goa, Some hills, or Somewhere abroad.

It’s all about going back to the place where we’ve spent most of our childhood.

That feel of being grounded to nativity, seated next to the window in a moving train as scenes through it pass slowly;

You look into your phone and smile, as the roaming symbol migrates from the first sim slot to the second sim.

The moderate warm wind soothes your face, and your favourite language is all that you hear.

The big green name board welcomes you.                                                                                     Finally, home is here.

What if…

when was the last time you felt devastated? Last night? Today at the breakfast table? Or maybe during the last ride home? Did you feel like a huge mess? Did you want to kill yourself? Did you want to suffocate your senses down?

I guess it happens to everyone. It happens to me, and i know it happens to you too. Its okay. There’s nothing to be ashamed about it. We all die a little every day. We all kill a little every day. Dying is an indispensable part of life, i have learned.

Go for it. So what if you look a little ugly? Buy that dress that shows off your collarbones. So what if you get dark circles? Go finish that half read novel. So what if you are broke? Go eat that burger with extra cheese. So what if you have a bad voice? Go sing that song aloud. Because what if the part of you that’s living today dies tomorrow?

Today was a bad day. But tomorrow will be better. You may ask me how i’m so sure about it. That’s because i like to believe that whatever happens, does for a reason. And if things are meant to be, they will be. Go cry your heart out, no one’s judging you. Go send that reckless text, no one’s stopping you. Go walk that extra mile, for you’re only what you think yourself to be.

So my dear, when was the last time you felt devastated? Today? Yesterday? During that last conversation? Doesn’t matter. You’re going to kill yet again. But never kill the parts of you that you can’t live without.

Devastated is beautiful. 

 

TALK IT OUT

holding things inside? lets say it out

Happiness is not out there, it’s within you

Holding things inside, many of us surely have a lot inside us. The things which no one knows. That can be your secret, something that hurts you, some incident may be a good one but the point is Are you happy keeping it inside? 

Most of us don’t share it because we think that someone you are sharing to will make fun of it or they won’t understand. But what about the things that are getting piled up inside you? What about the relief you will get once the words will come out?  You too are aware of it that you think a lot about it and you too want to get it out someway. So why not now? Why not just take a step, say it off and get it sorted? Let’s not think for the things that are not meant to hurt us. Lets not hurt ourself.

LETS JUST TALK IT OUT.

Communicate, even when it’s uncomfortable or uneasy. One of the best way to heal is simply getting everything out.