A Reading, Writing Life

A Reading, Writing Life

6/13/2025, 11:19:01 AM

"Living never wore one out so much as the effort not to live." - Anaïs Nin

A Reading, Writing Life

6/13/2025, 1:00:19 PM

*Your art will be terrible. (13.06.2025)* Art is such a raw and vulnerable thing, and when you are new to it, it can turn out to be really terrible. You start with joy. You love the process, but you do not always end up with a piece you are happy with - it can be that heartbreaking. It has happened to me hundreds of times, yet somehow I keep going with renewed hope. I think there are two things that keep you going: 1. Even when your art turns out terrible, you somehow learn a tiny little thing, like a colour combination, a pattern, a design, a texture that you can use to upgrade your future work. 2. And sometimes, it's not terrible. It turns out great, and you savour that piece. When you look at it, it brings you peace, it brings you joy, it reminds you that good things can come out of art and you must keep going. So anyone who is trying art and failing, just remember it will be terrible, but you will progress, and good art will also arrive, it will become more frequent if you keep making it, if you keep enjoying the process, and learning through it.

A Reading, Writing Life

6/12/2025, 11:09:10 AM

*My Light, My Joy. (12.06.2025)* This morning when I was making a paratha for Alizey and chai for myself, I had this warm feeling of being blessed with such a bright light in my life - yes, that's what Alizey means to me. Before I became a mother, I feared I would probably lose myself, and would never have the time and energy for the things I loved. Luckily, it turned out just the opposite. Alizey, with her positive energy, has made me more of myself. I have been able to connect with nature much more deeply, and my micro-joys have increased tenfold. I still do all the things I loved - but way more than I did before. It somehow happened that I started reading, writing, and making art with much more fervour than I ever did before. When I sit down to paint, she paints with me. She loves our houseplants and waters them. She has befriended the trees outside our window. When we are in the car, I am so excited to show her the moon, stars, trees, sunset, and animals. I am so glad to share this joy with her. Sometimes, we play with water. Sometimes we laugh for no reason. My sense of humour has emerged out of nowhere, and I love laughing with her, and making her laugh. We have the quirkiest conversations ever, and sometimes I totally forget I am her mother. Our nature walks in spring filled our hearts with such joy, but I love to have her around indoors. Now in summer vacations, we have slow mornings with lots of cuddles, and she wakes up smiling and ready to seize the day. It almost feels as if a part of my childhood and my summer vacations have been returned to me - with a lot more presence, a lot more joy.

A Reading, Writing Life

6/5/2025, 12:05:04 PM

*I feel alive. (5.06.2025)* I can't believe I have spent years in high functioning depression - going about my day doing all the things I had to do - but never fully realizing I was not truly alive. Weekends became my refuge to read a little, maybe journal or doodle, but most of the time I just needed to recover from the burnout caused by those five days when I was doing work that held little meaning for me, and I was away from my daughter (this hurt like nothing else). I wanted to raise her before my eyes, and I was away for many hours and came back so exhausted that I couldn't even take care of myself, let alone her. Even with the optimism that never left me and gratitude for the good that still remained in my life, I woke up to mornings with a heart full of darkness. I almost felt nauseatic rushing through mornings. Even if I didn't want to question, an inner voice often shook me, "Is this the life you want to live for the next 30 years?" Life seemed pretty perfect on the outside, but deep down, I knew I was far from my true self, and therefore hurting. People looked up to me. Parents were proud. Relatives praised me. Old uncles in weddings would especially come over to talk about civil service. I was generally well accepted at work and would put in effort , but deep down, I knew it was not my path. My values were entirely different. I wasn't giving time to the things that fed my soul. How idealistic, right? Many people told me, even close friends, that I could work on my passions along with this job as well. I could do everything with it, but that wasn't true. The environment where I spent the most time of the day, where materialism, sychophancy, conformity, and elite capture ruled, didn’t leave me with the energy and truth to pursue what mattered the most to me. I was holding on to something that was unaligned, and I was doing it out of fear. Fear of losing something unimaginable froze me - it left me frozen for days. And somehow I got the courage to free myself from it, and take a leap of faith towards the life that felt like mine. I am full of life, and I don't wake up with depression anymore.

A Reading, Writing Life

6/2/2025, 12:58:21 PM

"Attention is the rarest and purest form of generosity." - Simone Weil

A Reading, Writing Life

6/5/2025, 12:33:11 PM

"If the day and the night are such that you greet them with joy, and life emits a fragrance like flowers and sweet-scented herbs, is more elastic, more starry, more immortal-that is your success." - Henry David Thoreau

A Reading, Writing Life

5/23/2025, 2:40:59 PM

"People do not realize just how much they are putting at risk when they don't accept what life presents them with, the questions and tasks that life sets them. When they resolve to spare themselves the pain and suffering, they owe to their nature. In so doing, they refuse to pay life's dues and for this very reason, life then often leads them astray. If we don't accept our own destiny, a different kind of suffering takes its place: a neurosis develops, and I believe that that life which we have to live is not as bad as a neurosis. If I have to suffer, then let it be from my reality. A neurosis is a much greater curse! In general, a neurosis is a replacement for an evasion, an unconscious desire to cheat life, to avoid something. One cannot do more than live what one really is. And we are all made up of opposites and conflicting tendencies. After much reflection, I have come to the conclusion that it is better to live what one really is and accept the difficulties that arise as a result because avoidance is much worse." - Carl Jung

A Reading, Writing Life

6/2/2025, 9:43:32 AM

*Dreams (02.02.2025)* I don't know why, but there's a dreamy, calm, almost joyful vibe to June. And while thinking about it, I realized that how I lost my aliveness when I gave up on my dreams, very precious dreams, because of my limiting beliefs that they cannot be a part of a practical life. I felt so devoid of life - despite all the luxuries and prestige civil service offered. It always felt hollow. It is hollow. Those who work in it know it's very empty from the inside. Maybe that's why social media has been abuzz with people putting on statuses about how fancy it is. That validation from general public is probably their only joy - because it's so meaningless - so pointless from within. Many young people join to make a difference in the world (exceptions are there), only to find themselves fulfilling the dearest wishes of our politicians and facilitating elite capture. Even the honest ones are doing it because they are the executives - they are not supposed to question - they are supposed to implement. And then the prestigious postings, cars, a salary, and the power that comes from being part of the elite is hard to let go of, especially once you start getting used to it. It makes you very weak and very fearful from inside. It makes me sad for the intelligent, questioning minds, the bright and hopeful minds I experienced at CSA. I am so glad I chose my dreams. I chose peace. I chose joy. I chose my daughter over all the fanciness that just hollowed me out. Dreams are so important - they are our aliveness. May we never think they are too far from us - may we never let them go just because they are far from the reality that we see around us.

A Reading, Writing Life

5/17/2025, 10:00:52 AM

*Almitra (16.03.2024)* It's 2:30 am. I have read a lot. I have done all that I love, and now I am in bed. Dogs are barking. I sit still and listen to them keenly. Why would one listen to dogs with so much concentration? In my mind, images of ghosts conjure up. Dogs howling at a group of ghosts, floating up, barely a foot above the ground. Dogs are not okay with the fact that these ghosts are not walking. They are not okay with the fact that they are not sufficiently clothed and are just grey smoke that can easily move between things. It's not okay. It's not normal. While I have just started to think about it, I see Almitra. You would wonder who is Almitra and how do I know her name? I see a lady in a cloak with some red embroidered flowers. She has braided her hair in a thousand braids. She has fine features and a prominent jaw line. She stands in front of my double bed - just in the centre. Her hands are folded, and she is leaning as if in obedience. I am startled but not afraid. She introduces herself, "I am Almitra, and I am from faraway lands and a time very long ago. You know me." The name rings a bell. Almitra? "Yes, your name is familiar, but I have never seen you." "You have not seen me, but you have known me from Kahlil Gibran's The Prophet. I remember you were admiring me as you started reading the book." "I am a little confused. Weren't you supposed to be a fictional character added to the book for an intriguing start?" She answers meekly, "I have been a fictional character for those who have not met me. However, Kahlil knew me, I visited him often and inspired him to write a little bit about me in his book of poetry." I have so many questions. A fictional character coming to meet me out of the blue? Did I read "The Prophet" with too much interest. Am I dreaming? Am I hallucinating? While I have these questions just beginning to form in my mind, Almitra answers them. "No, you are not dreaming. You are not hallucinating. I am here. I am here to meet you." "Why?"I almost ask spontaneously. She takes a moment, as if she is looking for the right words to explain to me why she is here. "I have a message for you. I have a message that you need to start writing." "Writing about what? I can barely write a text message these days. I no longer have that flair anymore. It went away long ago." "Is this what you're thinking? You're just imagining things because you're afraid." "Afraid of what? I am not afraid. See, I am not even afraid of you. You the ghost, Almitra!" "I am not scary, Ma'am. I am just from the past." I hesitate, but ask, "But what do you want me to write about? I think I fail to think of things that I can write about." "No, you are not failing. Just put your phone aside. Maybe just not doom scroll all the time." "How is that practical? What about the calls from the office? What about the whatsapp messages?" "You can pick up the calls and put the phone back. Make 7 pm the time to read whatsapp messages. Then read again at 9 pm. Keep the phone away in the meanwhile after checking your messages." "Okay. I guess. I will write. But what do you want me to write?" "Write your story! The story you have lived. The story you're living." "Wouldn't it be too dull to read?" "Only if you fail to be honest." "Open up your heart and write." So here I am, my laptop open, I am writing. Writing about Almitra. The braided woman who stood in front of my bed a few minutes ago. She has told me to write and write about my life. I have written. I have written this as the first story - a beginner's episode. After all, this recent episode of her appearing here is my life, too. So what happened to Almitra? She disappeared after telling me that I must start writing? Not even a goodbye, you would ask. No, not a goodbye. But she said she would return to check if I was writing. She will visit again. See Almitra I have written - I have written a little bit about my life and a little bit about you. Can I go back to sleep now? It's 4 am, already. Almitra is nowhere around. I shut the laptop lid and prepare to sleep. In my ears, Almitra's voice keeps ringing: "Open up your heart and write."

A Reading, Writing Life

2/19/2025, 5:30:16 PM

*No = Bliss (19-02-2025)* I have recently realized (and quite late) that life does not necessarily get better by adding more things to it, but in fact, saying no makes it way better. Saying no to people, places, things, other people's ideas of living, and activities that don't align with me makes life beautiful. In the past, I have suffered from a lot of social clutter. I have been carried away by unwanted socializing, buying into people's ideas, and just trying to meet the demands of people who don't even matter much to me. Only now that I have had the chance to spend a lot of time with myself, I have realized how many things in my life were plain unnecessary and a huge drain on my energy. This clarity is a blessing, and it has enabled me to say no more boldly to everything that is not needed, not wanted. Life is much simpler, more fulfilling, and more joyful - even without adding much to it.