A note to my 28 year old self.

As I seal these words in ink,

I can see you brooding over pesky grays: unwelcomed and too many!

I know, I know you are a planner,

That you like to hide,

And hate to take risks

Yet, can't you just let go?

I know life has been tough

Growing up sucks,

Adulting gives you cringes.

But, girl, dance in your pyjamas

When you still can.

Don't brood at the worldly ways

Your blanket shields you from all the hurt.

Your books accept you with warmth,

Life is more about you and less about the world.

Let them run after all the sparkle,

I know you find peace in your dim lit corners.

Summers fun for ice-creams,

Winters for a piping cup of coffee.

So what if you still are a kid trapped in an adult's world

You still are you and that is what it takes.

So, dear, breathe while you still can

The 20s won't last forever,

The 30s would be real bother,

Mellowing 40s would be wiser.

But right now, as I write this

I want you to enjoy all the cosiness

You deserve and reserve for yourself!

I want you to be 'YOU' unapologetically,

Until we meet next time.

Comments

Life on wheels

The one thing that I always had dreamt of as a kid was to have a caravan that could take me to places.I always wanted a gypsy styled life. The idea itself mesmerized me to the extent that I kept dreaming of it the whole time not even realising how it was time which kept on rolling but I stood exactly at the same place, my dreams could never concretize. What was laughed at as a childish game was so important to me that I keep doodling it in my memory till now. I see a meadow, lush green with those small daffodils growing by, perhaps Wordsworth's daffodils! Then I see a girl, her wild unkept hair sailing in the gentle breeze. She has a smile which speaks of solitude, and her heart , well that's swelling with happiness as he looks at her caravan, after all she finally has a life on wheels. What more could she wish for, what more can anyone wish for? It's not always that we get to live a life we conceived as a kid, life keeps on deciding our track. From what we liked doing

Grandpa and me

I am the eldest grandchild in my family. And being the eldest, I was pampered a great deal by my grandparents. My aama (grandma) and baa (grandpa) always shielded me from every possible dangers including thrashings from maa. I have pleasant memories of evening story sessions as grandpa took me to bed. Aama would oil my hair and tie pony tails which resembled coconut trees that I used to draw. Sundays meant elaborate sessions with my grandparents. Baa would trim my nails, aama would fondle me to sleep. Their bed room was literally my playing room, my story book reading room, my painting room and what not. With time, as I grew, I got a room of my own but their room was still my favourite one. When I left for hostel, I missed them more than I missed my parents. It was in the year 2014, I had come home after my exams when aama received a pressure stroke . She couldn't make it. I had spent a month as he lay sick on her bed. All of a sudden, there was a role reversal. I could

"My love is enough for both of us"

"My love is enough for both of us", she often felt those words ring in her heart. She finally had understood that life wouldn't always follow her designs. That people are meant to leave but their memories won't. She often had wondered how someone could love her to such an extent when that person had always known that she wouldn't reciprocate those feelings. How could a person stand by her when she always acted as a fleeting shadow. She never had given hope for she knew the pain of dejection but he kept hoping like a hopeless vagabond. How she wished that he would some day hate her enough to let go. She devised ways to free him from this web, she acted cold, turned indifferent, did everything he detested and she finally saw some changes. It was a relief, he finally seemed to take hold of his life. She could see him grow responsible. He finally it seemed was learning to love himself. Phone calls died, meetings subsided, they become known strangers. All this while

Swings of a rhapsodic mind

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