Life, Story telling

Everyday Life: A beautiful mess

Remember my last post about “A shitty day”?

Thank you so much to everyone who liked and appreciated it. Well, that was something out of my head, that was the “Writer Me“, and here today, I bring to you the “Journalist Me“.

It was another pleasant day in the metropolitan city, a Friday- You know how much importance a Friday holds! Yes? I woke up late as usual because I forgot to put on an alarm. I quickly took a hot shower, had an aloo parantha, packed another two for lunch and took the metro to the office.

After I had wrapped up my work at the office, I planned to go visit my parents for it was their wedding anniversary. I fought a lot with my father because he told me that I’d be late being the typical Me and I promised him, I’ll reach on time. We had a family dinner planned after they’d all pick me up from the bus stand. So, I leave the office on time, journey planned to the capital city and then, a 200-minutes bus ride to home. Yasssss!

Waiting for something bad?

I bumped into my friend outside my office(should I link his profile here? 😛) and he suggested to me that I should take a bus from here itself. Why go to Delhi? Well, always open to suggestions, I agreed.

Half an hour later, I ran into an unknown bus stand, find only one last bus to my city and get in the women’s line. 20 minutes later, lucky I had been, I got the very last bus seat ticket in my hand. As I turned around, I found another 25 men running towards the bus.

I was eager to reach home. I took the seat on the bus and plugged in my earphones. You know it hurts bad at the very last seat, right? Very bad! But yeah, at least I had a seat.

90 minutes later, I was done. I had my back and legs hurting sitting at the most uncomfortable seat on the planet, a tau smoking at the other end of the seat, people screaming at the driver for the high speed and yes, someone stole conductor’s bag. I can’t tell you how much, but it was worth a lot with all those tickets in that bag.

They stopped the bus and we had police at the scene. “The conductor was gonna lose his job.” We stood there for more than 40 minutes that even the man in front of me ordered his Cheese onion pizza from a nearby shop. Lucky him!

The bus finally moved, 300 m ahead to the police station and there we were back again, to file an FIR. The people sitting beside me were so nice to offer me food and crack jokes, time and again. But, living in a world like this, where I don’t trust people and experienced why even the nice ones aren’t trusted. They were nice, my instincts weren’t.

I called my brother to cancel the family celebration, and sat there mad waiting for the bus comprising of 90% male passengers to move, complaining!

Finally after 90 minutes of drama, when we got moving, I had my back hurting again and my heart crying for spoiling my family dinner. And sometime later, I heard some whisperings next to me. You know the tau who was smoking earlier, he was searching for his bag of food under the seat, and alas! He found the conductor’s bag and went back to cribbing because it was his bag which was lost.

In that moment, I saw more than 70 people who didn’t know each other, laughing together and making puns. I didn’t feel any pain and I wasn’t sad anymore. I wasn’t alone in that moment. I could listen to the laughs and watch the grinning faces. I could hear myself laugh. I felt so proud of myself. Because nothing bad happened, nothing. This is the beautiful mess, you keep acknowledging everything around you, you smile and you cry and you move on.

The bus stopped again and the driver refused to go any further. At that roadside dhaba, every passenger from this bus ran to another 2 buses standing nearby. Standing in a bus with about 100 passengers, strangers cracking jokes to each other, discussing politics and the metropolitan city and 4 fights later, I finally reached my town.

I thanked the people who were nice to me, finally got home and 30 minutes before the day ended, celebrated with my family. We all ate cake and laughed and laughed, and told our stories to each other.


Your shitty day will always bring something good. I’m always skeptical about people, but I found out that there are wonderful people around us too. I experienced what the actual Haryana Roadways are. I experienced the actual struggles people go through, day in and day out which we living in our comfort zone don’t realize. I noticed how people find comfort in the most uncomfortable situations.

Yes, that’s why I call it the beautiful mess. My beautiful mess!

Life, Story telling, writers

A shitty day

I woke up to the sound of those hammer machines from a nearby construction site, irritated but smiling widely, as I felt that warm ray of sunshine on my face. I picked up my phone and this is when I could hear the little crickets of anxiety chirping inside my brain. My smile faded away and I gasped.
“I was supposed to be at my office by 9″
I jumped out of my bed and brushed my teeth, splashed my face with icy-cold water, picked up a dress that won’t tell that I didn’t shower and booked a cab. In “Your cab is 3 minutes away” time, I assembled my stuff and packed some fruits for lunch. 10 minutes later, I looked at my phone,

Your ride has been canceled. Tap to book another cab.

Oh, oh, oh, I can’t wait. I bombed out of the room and ran towards the Metro Station. And as I walked briskly, I took a deep breath, “It will be a great day, don’t worry”, and yeah, it turned out to be. I stepped into cow dung.

With a loud cry and a one-leap-foot run, I was finally in the next metro. As I scratched out the cow dung from my shoes, I could feel disgusted glances to and fro, been passed on towards me. But I didn’t have time for that. Not today.

I ran into the office with my hair all frizzy only to find out that my Manager was on leave. All this for nothing, seriously?

Well anyway, it turned out to be the most silent day at the office. The head from South Asia was at the office for a visit. 20 minutes later, as I walked through the cubicle corridor with the cup of coffee, my eyes finally met his and I started prepping the conversation in my head, and I tripped over the carpet.

Yes, of the 142 days that I’ve worked here, this was definitely the best for this trip. To Paradise.

I cleaned up and scuffled with my project the whole day, waiting for the next thing to go wrong. But, nothing. After 8 hours of working, I walked to the gym. Avoiding the treadmill and any other equipment which could accidentally kill me, I completed my workout. On the metro back home, I started observing people around me, all tired, ready to fall on the bed as they reach home. In a city so big, each and every life here feels trapped in a tiny cubicle. To calm down my running thoughts, I started typing in my draft. Yes, Blogging keeps me going through.

Back home, I took a long hot shower, ordered great Chinese food and poured myself a glass of wine. Well, I deserved this after a long day! I turned on “Sex and the City” on Netflix and accidentally caught a glance of my phone.

6 missed calls

Oh, God. Now what?

No another tragedy, it’s just me. I rushed to the PVR 2 blocks away in my PJs, socks, and slippers. Yeah, my date had been waiting. For the next few minutes, all I heard were heavy breaths and people shouting at me for knocking out their stuff, and yes, my legs hurt. Bad! Very bad.

35 minutes of apologizing and blah blah later, I was back on the couch, with SATC, Chinese food and spilled wine.

It had been a rough day darling, but it’s okay.

I leaped onto the couch and pulled a blanket over me. As I listened to Carrie Bradshaw narrate,

After all, seasons change, so do cities; people come into your life and people go. But it’s comforting to know that the ones you love are always in your heart. And if you’re very lucky, a plane ride away.

I processed my thoughts about life and, finally fell asleep, only to wake up at 8:49.

Oh, No, No, Noooooooo!

Now that, you’ve laughed a lot at how crappy my day could go, I hope that you’d noticed that even with all the crap, I didn’t start cribbing and did all I could. Gave in my best at my work, to my blog and took care of myself. My Maa always taught me that, “No day is a shitty day. Every day is a good day when you’re giving in your inputs and acknowledging everything good that life has to offer.

Just know that the stress and work from a lot of tiring days, that you see as shitty, bring together that one AWESOMELY-AMAZING day, that makes all the pain go away. Everything is not gonna go this amazing all the time, but for how long can it go bad? Not if “I” am the one who decides what’s good and what’s shitty.

And also, I woke up to 6385 shares, 1269 comments, 816 retweets and hundreds of messages flown into my inbox. My blog had gone viral.


Life, writers

My Writer’s Block- Trick of the Light

As of now, I always thought that writing was easy. It came easy. I never had to think so hard, my imagination always kept up with me. Walking to an 8 am morning class, I could dive into the pool of my thoughts and write a poem. Thinking about how badly I miss my long-distance friend, I could write a blog. Standing in the balcony with those tiny raindrops hitting my face sharply, I could describe what rain means to me in a hundred words.

Some days, with the utmost inspiration emerging from within, I could write and write feeling good about life, even when all by my own and most days, I looked around, observed the people and the place and something would just toss content inside my head, I would shape the idea into words from the simplest vocabulary I own and there it was, in minutes, the final draft.

But, it’s not always easy. You might want to write and words couldn’t be formed out. You could try everything- pen and paper, a laptop or even a phone memo. Nothing. You could sit writing in a dark room or you could sit in a park, you could walk by the riverside or glue your eyes to a screen in a very expensive café-restaurant. But it wouldn’t happen. And you might end up thinking for days and for weeks and for months and for years, and would blame it all on the writer’s block.


Writer’s block, huh! Don’t you sometimes feel thankful to the inventor of this term? It is because of him that you’re procrastinating this, right? It’s always easy to blame.

Think about it, someday in the future, you are doing your job and you’re thinking, What happened to my dreams? I could’ve been a writer; I could’ve been a journalist; I could’ve written a great movie script. Where did it all go away? And then, when you sit down in silence with yourself, thinking about what in a world of visual media gave you the inspiration to write and about all those dreams; that would be the time you will be able to figure out what made the combination of your imagination and writing skills fade away.

Or was it there with you the whole time and you weren’t just focusing?

Earlier today, I was writing another draft while riding the metro and I couldn’t stop smiling. I was happy and fantasizing myself in that situation and then, I ended up reading parts of what I had written by then, and “Oh God, This is shit! Why am I so happy?” And a deep breath later, I thought to myself, “Of course darling! Your blogs are going to be shit some days and tip-top some other days. Some days your audience would say that they couldn’t relate. And some days, they would find it motivating.” We all have different perspectives on life and we see everything around us with that perspective.

So, dear fellow readers and writers,

A writer’s block is nothing that you can’t overcome. It is just self-doubt creeping in and making you think that you can’t write. And you CAN defeat that. Just write something, even if it is shitty. You know that you might have to make changes a hundred time, but it would be worth it. Your every write-up can never be so perfect. It’s all a trick of the light.

So, just don’t give up.

Never give up!

Life, Story telling

My poor-poor child


It was 7:15 pm that late evening when she walked into the parking lot and handed me her ticket. I looked up at her while sitting on my chair as I took that little yellow piece of paper from her. She didn’t look me into the eye, neither smiled, just walked away to her car. I stood up from my chair, my reflexes bursting off to ask her, “Are you okay, child?”, but it was none of this old man’s business.

Usually, this girl, Amara, was very cheerful. She would always smile and wish me a good night while driving off. On days, she would ask me about my health, and if my son treated me well. She would sometimes bring me sweets and tell me how tiring her day was. One day, she brought me a rose and taught me the art of keeping my beautiful, old lady happy. Another late evening last December, I had been smoking cigarettes sitting on my chair while receiving tickets as the car moved out in front of me. I was a pretty mess. She ditched her boyfriend and spent an hour with me, making sure I never smoked a cigarette again.


I looked away as a boy called out for help to move his car, parked very wrong. This is the thing about spending 6 hours of your day in a parking lot for over 2 years. You meet new people every day, and sometimes the same people every day. For the next 40 minutes, until my shift ended, I talked to an old lady visiting her son in office with sweets, two young siblings fighting about who gets to sit in the front seat and their parents almost crying trying to persuade them and about 100 men and women in black and blue walking back after a day’s hard work.

As the clock struck 8, I moved to the last lane to get my bag, I saw Amara’s car parked. Shouldn’t she have left 40 minutes ago? I walked to her car’s driver window as I saw her dozing off with her head tilted to the other side. A little smile emerged on my face. My poor, little hard-working kid. As I walked two steps away, my heart stopped pounding. No! No! No! No! No negative thoughts! I walked back three steps and cupped my hands at the window to look inside.

My sight can only remember two things- a good seven-ten white pills lying on her skirt and a cylindrical bottle near the gear that would have fallen off her hand. I tapped on her window hard, “Bachha!” As I ran to the other side of the car to look at her face, I screamed out for help. I was blocking all the thoughts in my head. I looked around the parking lot as I cried out again.

I cupped my hands again at the window as I saw her lifeless face staring back at me. I got pushed back a step and held my chest, as I could feel the hell-fire inside my heart. My poor-poor baby. I kept crying for help and people started gathering. I could see a young couple screaming as they dialed 100 and 102. A boy in his early twenties took a small rock and started to break the window. People were terrified with this unexpected horror at this happy hour.

I could see her in front of me, laughing and my heavy head couldn’t imagine what could have been so worse that she took this step. She was a happy child. I always saw her smiling. I wish I could have talked to her when I noticed that pretty face so sad this evening. I wish I could have talked.. I wish I could have helped.. She might or mightn’t have talked, but she would listen.. Maybe my granddaughter’s story would have made her smile… Maybe I could tell her how motivating she had always been… Maybe I could know what went inside her head… Maybe I could help… Maybe I could talk… Maybe I could at least try…

With over 5 crores people in our country suffering from depression and with more than 50% of the ones who’re struggling refuse to take treatment, we need to create a lively environment for these people. We never know who could be dying a little more inside, every day, behind a pretty smile. People refuse to come forward with their problems, we all could do a simple task- talk, never under-estimate our gut feeling and be a little more kind. To everyone. To ourselves.

Because talking helps. And by listening, you can help.


Dive in; Drive it away

Hey there!

So, here is a really quick update- 4 hours ago, I went for a drive, to the outskirts of the city and that would be after many many months. Yeah, I have my license, and I know how to drive, but you understand that feeling of excitement and anxiety when you are up for something after quite a long time? I was going with my father and I didn’t want to him doubt on my skills.

We started well. I was pretty amazed by myself and we started having a good talk until I finally turned the car to the national highway. Now, I have a fear of buses and trucks driving past me. You remember the time when you had to speak in front of a large group of people, or present your business idea to the director of the University, or maybe propose to your long-loved girlfriend BUT suddenly your old good friend, Anxiety kicks in. He takes the first seat in the audience, or sits directly beside your Director, or maybe attempts to talk your girlfriend out of it, even before you propose. Yes, that Anxiety, she took the back seat, just behind me.

Driving was fun- it was a pleasant evening, had just rained an hour ago. Every time I looked into the rear mirror and a truck was approaching the car, Anxiety started screaming high-pitched into my ears. And that disturbance would get transferred through my feet to the accelerator as if the truck owner had been paid by my worst-worst enemy.

Papa always tells me, “Computers and Cars are alike. The more you spend time with, the efficient you become with them.” So, I smiled, its okay. The truck can overtake me, or slow down and horn for me to get aside, or MAYBE HIT ME IF HE DOESN’T LIKE ME!!

We drove to an office, he went in and I stared at the pink-blue sky, hoping I could get a glimpse of the sunset, maybe.

We drove back, talked about our family and had a good laugh. And oh, then, Boom! You know, my city is the best and the rainy days make it more beautiful. I could witness a gigantic pool ahead of me, with a mix of melted chocolates, Nutella and maybe, POOP.

I smile to myself, you had swum in a 7 feet deep pool, right? You’ll easily drive in a 2 feet pool. I looked into the mirror, smiled at the bitchy face of Anxiety and drove back home. But all through the way, one question kept striking in my head, again and again- If you can get over Anxiety and fear and drive to your destination, why can’t you do this with every other single thing in your life? More than the destination today, you loved the journey, never mind how annoying Anxiety was every now and then, but you did it. Why isn’t this possible with Life?

We have a human tendency of not noticing things as they’re meant to be. Everything we do, every lesson we learn is connected to another one which can be learned and implemented.

Fear is necessary. We always try to get over our fears, when all we have to do is learn to deal with them. Because,

Being brave is doing it even when you’re afraid. 

Isn’t it?

Once you have taken your seat, started the engine and taken the car to gear 1, it’s not that difficult to drive on the national highway! So, dive into the work you love, and drive away your annoying old friend, Anxiety, from the Land of the Calm.


The Last Day

|| 9.47 am ||

I wake up buzzed as the room is brighter than ever. I look for my phone and sit silently staring into emptiness, I am acknowledged with a fact I couldn’t believe: Today is the last day of my life. WOW, Right? Now, where did I get this message from? Take it as you like, like: The Yamraj Himself appeared before me and gave me the message, or I got a text message from my doctor because I had been coughing since a week, or maybe I just assumed so because I had a gut feeling. Assume as you like this time.


So, now that I have 24 hours to live, or maybe less as I get into a shock from the message, I decide to own the time I have. You know, that I’m-bold feeling, or more like a cliched solution: I’m going to live the rest of my life as I want it to. Next? I make a bucket list, yeah?

  • Go rafting and cliff jumping in Rishikesh
  • Have the most delicious chocolate cupcake
  • Have the best booze party of my life and invite everyone I know??
  • Or maybe, EXPLORE THIS LAST DAY IN BRUSSELS OR PARIS? (Only if they provide me with a special EMERGENCY visa!!)

Well, No. Sure, this is the last day and I should make the most of it. But, this is not my most. I define my “most” for myself, you for yourself.

I would like to spend the day with my loved ones, family and friends- people who have been my pillars throughout- No negative energy invited! I would be nice and sweet as sugar to everyone, and…

Again, No. I wouldn’t wish to be the sweetest person alive on that day, on my very last day. I would wish it to be like any other usual day. Maybe, I would go to the pool with my people and then let my body lose deep into the water and stay there looking at the blue, till I can’t hold my breath anymore and I panic and kick myself out of the water, breathing heavily, yet, smiling, as water drips through the corner of my eyes.

Maybe, I would like some of this precious time to myself, where I scribble in my diary all the thoughts hovering in my mind. And then, I would want to go on a drive with Maa and watch the beautiful sunset like it’s the last one I’ll ever see. (WOW!) As I watch the orange ball of fire hide behind the dark green crops, I tell her how much I love her and how grateful I’m for the way she raised me. And then, going back home, I would have dinner with the fam and maybe a Vanilla ice cream later, and laugh at my father’s silly jokes, we never really laughed at. And maybe, I would like to have some champagne with everyone.

Well, just a glass.

Or maybe two.

Celebrating my death?

No baby, No!

Celebrating life.

The value I chose was to create a happy environment, for myself and my people; to let go off all my regrets and live in the moment, satisfied with whatever I own and creating a little more. Even with the little time I was left with.

Now, I would love to know how you would want to celebrate the Grand-Finale of your life? Comment down below.

But, before you go there, you got your ideas through this, right? And you scrolled? You would leave that for the very *LAST* day of your life? You know, there’s an amazing thing about death. It’s uncertain. You never get a notification. Not a day before, not an hour before, not even a minute before. So, whatever popped up your mind, 7 seconds ago, that is what you’ve to do.

Don’t wait for the last day,

Go out and live it like it’s the best day.


nature, Poetry

The Night full of Stars

To the night full of stars,
I imagine how beautiful you’ld be
When, where and how, I think all day
You and me, unfeigned throughout.

It’ll be all like a fairy tale
The happiest day of my life
While those other girls dream of their knights
I think about you,
And you all gathered together, smiling down at me.

Visualizing, I see it all
Happening during a road trip
I will be there with my friends
Pampered in the front seat.

One would be driving
And all of us singing
I will be staring at the moon
Driving with us on those deserted roads
And the wind gushing past my smiling face

Terribly lost in the world of my deep thoughts,
I’d be staring at you all
Ignorant of the fact,
My dream came true.

And suddenly, I see it all
There’s a horn honking behind
Bringing me out of my virtual world
To look at you all
Awestruck, mesmerized, speechless.

I take a 180 degrees look around
For it is all that’s feasible
And then, I hear myself screaming
Scaring the humankind around.

They side-park the car
Bombarding me with questions
The honking car speeds into the secluded way
Leaving me behind, smiling wide
All eye to eye.

“Is everything okay?”
“What were you thinking?”
“What did you see?”
“You won’t say, or Would you?”

I look at them and just smile
“Get off the car, my people”
I grin, and together we all
Were standing there in a gasp
Ignoring my silly, silly deed.

Unable to utter any words,
I smile like a moron;
My excitement’s at its peak,
Asking my butterflies to rest

But, I let them go off.
I scream, I jump, I laugh
I pat’em all
I point at you all
And let that tiny tear shed.

Every foot’s frozen to the ground
It’s four degrees around
Mine, uneasy, active and shaking
Like just came off a trampoline.

With a leap, I lay there still
On the grass green and thick
To gaze at you all
Shining bright, twinkling, and still still
Reflecting different colors, I never knew exist.

Taking over the whole sky now
You corner the moon,
I had been staring since forever
Now difficult to figure out is happy or sad

Then again, some of you away,
Some not so far away
Like the crowds at Times Square
Everyone from far-off lands
Collaborating a citizenship.

I now run out of words,
Not because I am speechless at you beauty,
But because I look at this wallpaper
Clashing with the world of my imagination.

Here I am, back in my dorm room
Looking at a night sky themed laptop screen
Wishing there were clear nights,
Nights full of you beauties.
Damn, These city lights!

I remember the good old days,
Being a 9-year-old
Each day after homework and play
Spelt with a blanket of stars.

I long for the day when this’ld all be real
I would be looking at you,
With my tiny hazel eyes,
Much more mesmerizing than
Whatever came out through the windows of my brain.