Diary of a Lost Wanderer

Source:  Mindyourmind Coping with loss can be extremely sensitive as a topic to both write or talk about to someone. This loss need not be only related to romantic relationships, it could also be the loss of a dream, a job, a project, a pet, a promotion etc.

Today, I want to tell the story of Sapna. A girl who true to her name, existed in a dream world of her own or to put it correctly, continues to exist. Since the age of 10, she harbored a huge crush on Shahrukh Khan. One summer afternoon, as she sat staring at the television screen displaying Shahrukh Khan trying to reach heroine's window by climbing a wall, her heart skipped a beat.

** Trigger Alert : Suicide, self harm, depression, gas lighting, toxic childhood, abuse ** Dear Diary, Tonight I am unable to stop. The toxic taste refuses to leave my mouth. I tried everything. I gargled with Listerine at least half a dozen times. Since that fateful moment I have consumed more than 4 packets of chewing gum but to no avail. I am writing this sitting in the bathroom. I am scared I will puke anytime and I don't want to risk Mamma's wrath yet again. Since morning she is so angry with me. I don't have it in me to fight with her one more time.

Not many moons ago, my healer had told me that my inner child was misplaced and that was the cause for a lot of emotional upheavals I was experiencing. She told me I had abandoned her when she needed me the most and that now I need to cajole her to believe in me, again.  Picture (C) Privy Trifles

' It is almost impossible to watch a sunset and not dream .'- Bern Williams Picture (C) Privy Trifles

Some days it is important to say it all, But nobody ever told us of a day when you will no longer be heard. You will scream. You will cry. You will speak up all that had been burning in your heart. Your embers will refuse to spark. Your voice will not reach any heart or pierce any soul.

The morning rays filtered through the window as I took the last bite of my lavish Sunday brunch. Ah! Don't get any ideas. I am a lazy bum. Sundays for me are days to laze, more than the weekdays. I get up later than usual and cook something which serves the purpose of both breakfast and lunch.

One of the most important things I learnt in the last 4 years of dealing with an autoimmune disorder is the art of doing nothing. It is important at times, to be busy doing nothing. It doesn't mean you are free, it means you are doing 'nothing'. 

"Life is one of the best teachers we could come across ever in the world." In the last few years I have learnt so much about myself that I am surprised how I existed before this. It is important because we are never told to know ourselves. We are always taught to keep others first and that is where the whole problem starts brewing up.Today, if someone were to ask me to describe myself then perhaps this quote would be perfect:

I love it when as a writer, I can tag anything and everything that I do as research 😆 

Home. A place. A building. A memory. A feeling. Nostalgia. Childhood. Emotions. Dream. Desire. Family. Siblings. Happiness. Secrets. Songs. Heart. Soul. Love. Peace. A person. Home.

Last four years have been eventful. Quit jobs, moved cities, went on solo trips, ticked off quite a few things off my wishlist and managed to survive all the changes my illness brings along. If there is one thing I realised amidst all this, then that was this; " This life is nothing but a place to make memories - Yaadon Ka karkhana. Some bitter, some sweet, some tear jerking while some that make you smile even after decades - but memories are always cherished. Because strangely people change, memories don't. "

"Love stories are never created. They always existed around us, waiting to be written, to be heard and to be spoken about." Many times I am asked how do I find the ideas to write stories. I have always loved stories, from time immemorial. And the writer in me, never fails to catch the whiff of a story bubbling around. Like last night, when I was fiddling with my YouTube playlist.

“There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle.” ― Albert Einstein Dear Diary,  Miss scolded me in the drawing class. I coloured the sky green and the grass yellow. It somehow looked right to me. Everybody in the class laughed at me. 

Source:  Pinterest Have you ever woken up one day and felt all empty? As if there was nothing left of you except that body which you were clinging onto with all your might. Today was one such day for me. 

Sitting thousands of miles away from the place I grew up calling home, this evening I have this strange feeling of being homesick. But to be home sick, I had to know where my home was isn’t it? The place I grew up was made up of bricks and mortar and could be called a house but never a home. It never eluded the warmth of being a home. Nevertheless, home it still was. It after all was my sole companion on all the silent nights I had spent crying alone and those unending days when detested being alive.  Source:  NYOOOZ

Source:  Pinterest How often do we underestimate the power of stories hidden within our family! This isn’t about such a story but about a possible alternate ending to one that has been haunting me since days. So I am sharing it here. 

Source:  LoveThisPic Tonight, my soul smells like you.  It takes me those winter afternoons when we watched the movie called life through our rose tinted glasses and laughed at our dreams. That song which held our secrets is no longer hidden. And our story, well that is still being written. 

A new month, new day and a new week starts with a new desk. The old one had began to creek, just like my thoughts. Sometimes disturbingly noisy while sometimes it was soothing like the morning music. Nevertheless, I believe it managed to scare my writing muse away for the time being. For it simply refuses to come hither. While my muse travels to gather stories for me, my soul travels to gather fairy dust for me. After all, what is life without magic!  " We travel, some of us forever, to seek other states, other lives, other souls. " - Anaïs Nin  Source: Pinterest

Source:  New Anthem Community Church Being born in a country where careers are decided even before names, I gather a lot of funny reactions when I say I quit my job as an investment banker to become an author. Some laugh assuming that I am joking, while some pooh-pooh it thinking I am from one of those banker-turned-authors bandwagons who is dreaming of making millions and soon will be back to work once I see how not-so-easy it is. Rarely do I find someone who really is keen on knowing my story. To begin with let me clarify I didn’t quit my job to pursue writing. There, that statement sounds so pompous but it isn’t. It reeks of fear if you observe closely and I will tell you why. 

Source:  www.letters.org Dear Friend,  I smile every time I read your last letter: “ Anytime you need a friend, I will always be there for you .“ But maybe we never thought of a time when the pain inside me would have strangulated my voice. Would you still be able to hear my cries for help? Will you be a friend, even when I can’t say I need one?  I need you. I need you to talk to me, listen to me and discuss everything under the sun and not just my disease. I am already facing it day in and out. Talking about it constantly is depressing at times. Let’s talk about the places you have been travelling to or the latest movies released. I would never want it to be about all that should have been but wasn’t. I would rather want it to be about all that can be, shall be and will be. Read the whole letter HERE

I never said it was easy to find your place in this world, but I’m coming to the conclusion that if you seek to please others, you will forever be changing because you will never be yourself, only fragments of someone you could be. You need to belong to yourself, and let others belong to themselves too.  You need to be free and detached from things and your surroundings. You need to build your home in your own simple existence, not in friends, lovers, your career or material belongings, because these are things you will lose one day. That’s the natural order of this world. This is called the practice of detachment. ― Charlotte Eriksson

A lazy Saturday afternoon , I was chilling with few friends over chilled lemonade when the conversation drifted towards best-selling author Nikita Singh's soon to release book Letters to my Ex . Strangely irrespective of the way the relationship had ended, we all had something or the other to say to our ex. There could have more than one relationships in our lives, but there is always that one person who changes us. That one person from whom our heart refuses to move on, even after decades. That one person who can still make your heart skip a beat. That one person who spoke to your soul, like no one ever did or will. There is often a lot left unsaid in relationships, maybe that causes the misunderstanding too as we expect to be understood without saying anything which doesn't happen all the time. Source:  Odyssey As the book blurb says, "  Most love stories have their share of misunderstandings, angry tears and hurdles - only for longing and faith to save the day...

Only once in your life, I truly believe, you find someone who can completely turn your world around. You tell them things that you’ve never shared with another soul and they absorb everything you say and actually want to hear more. You share hopes for the future, dreams that will never come true, goals that were never achieved and the many disappointments life has thrown at you. When something wonderful happens, you can’t wait to tell them about it, knowing they will share in your excitement. 

“ Dil Dhundta hai phir wohi fursat ke raat din… ” Faint sounds of music in the air announce the arrival of evening today. Gulzar on the loop is how my day has been, crowded with my own thoughts in words and otherwise. I talked to someone on phone today and my own voice startled me for a moment. Had it grown hoarse or sweeter? I might never know. All I know is this quietude is addictive. This still, noiseless existence grows on you. The only voices that can be heard are either from your heart or your mind. And if sometimes you are lucky, then your dreams might try speaking to you. 

On a crisp Saturday morning, I decided to wriggle out of cozy comforters and get some writing done. The October sun was warm and soothing. Not to forget my writing desk, bathed in the golden hue from the sun rays looked exceptionally inviting. And so, I occupied the throne.