searching home

Where do you go when you start to miss home at home?
What do you do when you try explaining to your mom there is something wrong with home
and she doesn’t understand
she somehow doesn’t understand that home does not feel like enough yellow
how do you tell her you want to go in search of home
but you don’t know where to start from
should you start digging inside your home
find what somehow got buried
or do you just leave, try to make a home in things you shouldn’t
and just wait, till everything feels home enough
how do you tell your mom you miss her laugh, reverberating in the hall
how do you tell her it was the sweetest melody you ever heard
how do you tell your brother, you want to run away
you want to leave home because you don’t recognize it now
you don’t feel the walls smiling at you
you don’t feel the floors kissing your knees when you fall
you don’t feel the same way you felt when you were 5 years old
how do you tell your dad you miss pretending to be asleep so that he could come and kiss you on the cheek, and tell you how much you mean to him
how do you tell him to do that more often
how do you tell your dad that you want to hide behind the curtains like before and when he finds you, ask him to bring you back home
the original home
how do you tell your dad that your happiest memory is of them playing carrom till your fingers hurt
and laughing till your stomachs hurt
when you couldn’t get enough of that feeling
and now, nobody seems to have time
nobody seems to have enough love left
and nobody likes hugs anymore


Our own personal museum

I feel there should be this one room in every house
our own personal museum
to frame cards and photographs in elaborate ways
to give a short description, so clever that people actually have to make an effort to understand
but the museum should be of all the things which make you happy

and when you go there and sit in silence
like in movies, in front of that huge framed abstract painting
but instead let it be your huge framed abstract painting
and when you sit in front of it
making sense of all the colourful paints splattered across the canvas
let it help you make a big decision in your life

let there be photographs of clouds on that special day
and let there be do not touch signs
because I know it’s scary to let people close
let there be a special scents section
because you want to keep your one thousand one hundredth day of school close to you
and you never want to forget how the homemade cake your mom used to make for special occasions made the whole house smell like vanilla for days
I wish there could be a way to preserve scents
also let there be a to be continued, for all the memories which are still to be made

and when people come to your house, hoping to get a peek at your museum
let them come inside, let them make sense of what makes you happy
let them make sense of you

endings, i’m not a huge fan of endings. i rarely get to the endings, in the midst of being so excited for the beginnings, i forget things have to always end. i forget how hard endings are supposed to be, i forget how things end so new things can come into your life. I’m scared of endings. when the tunnel ends, which way are you supposed to go. when your eyes are still blurry from all the darkness, how’re you supposed to take all the light in. i make this little home in my routine, my day to day activities. it means that things are going as they should, you have something to hold onto in all the chaos. what’re you supposed to do when it ends, when a part of your day ends. how’re you supposed to get normalcy back in your day.
but i also forget how endings are beautiful, about how sunsets make for a perfect culmination to the day. about how sometimes, it’s okay to stay in a little darkness. about how sometimes not knowing what to do next is okay.

things I hope for you

you always remain kind and pure, this world doesn’t let its evil creep in through the cracks in your heart. i hope this world makes you happy at every turn and you do the same for the people in your life. that you always have a reason to be kind. that you never sleep without knowing you’re loved and cared for. that you keep giving to the world even when it feels like a black hole is sucking everything inside. that you always have a home to come back to, a person you call home, the feeling you call home. i hope this world always inspires you to do better, to be better. that you never feel you aren’t enough. that you go back to bed knowing you can make mountains move by the power of your love.

Instructions on how to string an apology

realize you’re wrong, that sometimes you can be wrong too, sometimes you could be the cause of someone’s unhappiness too.
wrap them up in a blanket, take them to their happy place, tell them how sorry you’re, tell them you didn’t mean to hurt them, tell them you won’t repeat it

now that you have told them so much, tell all that to yourself too, tell yourself that you’re a human who makes mistakes and you can sometimes take them back through apologies.
make a note in your diary about where you went wrong, remember not to take that lane again. remember to keep your promises.
after all this, let them feel. let them grieve for your actions, they can’t easily forget it. there’s no erase button. ask them what else you can do, ask them if you could just sit next to them. respect whatever they say.

i have this huge fear of being abandoned on an island and nobody coming back for me. everyone just went on with their lives without batting an eye, like i was erased from everyone’s brains. suddenly i didn’t exist. i keep telling my people one day i’ll be lost, so lost that i won’t be able to come crawling to them, so lost that maybe they won’t even recognize me. i keep asking them to promise me that when that day comes, they’ll fight for me. they’ll make sure i’m never left on that island. that I never step foot on that island. i always imagine myself being in this corner, unable to move. all of my people just there, doing nothing. not even trying to get me out of there. just watching. as if i deserve it. i don’t know where this fear comes from, but i do know i feel lost and vulnerable.

What’s your dream day like, not your house or your car or your job. Your dream day, one day full of magic and fairy dust, which doesn’t need to make sense. It could start at night and end with you going back to sleep in the day. You wake up at 10pm, on a Friday night. With your person by your side. Go for a night swim, under the stars, and come back home. Get dressed, or maybe not. Leave with the chlorine hair and your clothes with the fragrance of chlorine. You go to the museum, watch stars from the telescope, the world is just slowly waking up at midnight. The number of people slightly increasing on the roads on your way back home. You plan to go to work late. It’s okay to be a bit late when you both run the company. You pop in a coffee shop on your way, it’s quiet. You decide to stay for a while, read your books. Then finally, after a lot more convincing from your person, decide to leave. Get dressed for work, only to be surprised by such wonderful stationery at your desk. Stationery is better than flowers, especially yellow diaries and green pens. It’s a beautiful day at work, you’re working, but you’re happy. It’s the busiest day in so long but you love the rush. So many calls and emails and barely having any time to pass on a smile to your partner. You both decide to stop in for a light breakfast, pancakes seem perfect. And when you’re so high on Nutella, finally reach home to just crash on the bed, both of you.

I tell you I’m studying maths,
and you look at me with awe
or disgust maybe
I’m studying maths to make sense of all the things which don’t make sense anymore
logic and reasoning is the only thing keeping me sane
only thing keeping me from running to a forest and living there
animals make a lot more sense than humans
humans are too blinded at times
considering we’re the species with the highest intellect, we don’t act like it most times

I don’t do feelings, or maybe I can’t
logic is my safe space
my means to holding myself together
my means to understanding this world a bit better
so when people are disillusioned in love
I’m trying to bring some sense into them,
shaking them from head to toe
making sure they know how stupid they’re being

I thrive on reasons, I feel the need to question everything
my mom calls me crazy, I tell her she should be like the bournvita mom
trying to find answers to all my questions
I’m grateful to google and ted for trying to answer most of them
but I still need someone to question the world with me
someone who’s lost without logic
but not doing maths, I like physics better

I don’t know why
but I love to keep these certain traditions and rituals
it won’t mean a lot to people
and some of them are just in my mind, maybe
but they are just there
like watching all marvel movies with my brother
or using a particular word or phrase only with this one person
or always going to a certain spot with a particular person
I make these spots for different people
you probably have a place reserved for you too, the one I remember you by
I don’t know if it’s healthy
but it’s just, everything somehow has a sentimental value to me
like a piece of paper you scribbled on, in sixth grade
or a toy airplane you joked about being my birthday gift, I have that too
there’s this whole box of stuff I have
including all the cards I have ever gotten
there aren’t many, but they all mean the world to me
my dad wrote a letter apologizing to me once, that’s probably the closest to me
because he rarely apologizes now
he rarely thinks he was wrong
so one day, maybe I’ll show it to him
tell him how much he has actually changed
I know it seems a bit stupid
that’s not how you’re supposed to remember people by
but it’s just easy to associate them with something tangible
makes it easier to let them go too

close your eyes and think of your happiest memory
don’t tell about it to people
keep it close to your heart because the more you tell people about it
the more it loses it’s value
so take that memory and lock it inside a safe
put airtight packing over it
don’t let it get polluted
and if ever, something unforseen happens
something you feel you won’t ever be able to come out of
take it out carefully
unravel it bit by bit
the pure memory which was far away from everyone for it to be tinkered with
and, let it make you feel better
and after that memory has done it’s part
let it go, let it be free