Goodnight, little girl

Not the giddiness of a crush, rather the calm comfort of a love that has blossomed into friendship. The arm loosely wrapped around you. Toasty feet to warm up yours. A light kiss on the tip of the nose. Scrunched up. Pout in place. And you burrow – into the bed, into the blanket, and into the body that is more comfort and warmth than the night can take away.
The tiniest of sighs that whisper love to one who can hear, and you slip into smiling dreams of light.



It’s odd how out of the 100 or so photos I have taken in the last month, this is the one I keep coming back to.
Something about this heavy, immovable, stone structure speaks to me of possibilities and freedom.

Something Old, and Something New

It’s the same old place again. An ending, and a beginning. And the question of how to break away.

I’m lost in a maze – darkness and shadow, doorways wrapped in mist, deceptive paths that vanish even as I walk them. Endless possibilities. And yet…

There is hurt, and fear, but the hope hasn’t woken up yet.

Its the same old place again. But this time, I want to make it into something new.


It is liberating when you stop caring. Have you ever stopped to think how many of your decisions, every day, are driven by a fear of consequences? Because you are afraid of losing something that you value? Money, health, life, friendship, or even just a bit of pretend peace?

But what if you weren’t worried about what you might lose?

The thought tastes of freedom.

With just a hint of recklessness sprinkled over it.

Or despair.


It’s the time to look back on the year that was. There is nostalgia in the air as people talk about what they loved/ hated about the year, or simply what made an impact on them. Yesterday I went to an event where a group of people got together to share the things they were grateful for in this year. And I sat there and thought about what I was most grateful for. I have a few select friends who I know will be there for me no matter what. And I am grateful for that. I have a decent job, and the financial security that comes from a regular salary and a habit of saving. And I am grateful for that. Loving parents about whom the biggest complaint I can make is that they worry about me too much. And I am grateful for that. 

When I started writing this post, I was sure I knew what I was most grateful for. I was sure of my answer as I sat in the park yesterday surrounded by people and their stories of strength and learning and love and fortune –  the things they were grateful for. But I am not sure of my answer now. What seemed so significant yesterday, that I was, in essence, willing to define my year around it, seems trivial tonight. What is an entire year compared to a day? Actually, the memory of a day that brought joy only because of its absence? 

15th December 2017. What should have been the 3rd anniversary of my wedding, had things gone as planned. The first 15th December since “the incident” that I didn’t even remember the day or what it was supposed to have meant. And that, I thought, was the biggest gift the year had brought. Now, I don’t feel I can give it that importance. And my wish for next year is that I don’t care whether I remember it or not. That there is not even a moment of confusion about what I am most grateful for in 2018.


Skimming through my blog, remembering who I was. Am I still the same person I was 4 months ago? 6 months ago? 3 years ago?

How much does one have to change, how quickly does one have to change, to be considered a different person?

Someone told me I had evolved. Grown.

Is evolution always a good thing?




Watching the red blossom. Trickle down skin. Slow.

Blood is thicker than water you see.

Is it warm? Feels cold to me.

Hide? Or run away? Always the question. But where?

Naked. Exposed. Broken. Just the blanket of red to keep you warm.

Dear Reader

Dear Reader,

I do not know who you are. I do not know where you are from. I do not know why you are here, reading my words. Do you even exist outside my imagination?

It matters not.

Thank you for letting me spend time with you, talking of whatever comes into my mind. Thank you for not interjecting in the middle of my musings. Thank you for listening, and not judging. Thank you for letting me be a part of your life. Thank you for helping me find my voice.

Thank you for letting me be, hidden in my dark corner. Alone, but not lonely anymore.

Waiting for…

Am I being mean if I’m waiting for the day I get to be alone again? Selfish, I admit. To be responsible for and answerable to myself and no one else.

Tired of playing grown-up. Because being a grown-up means so many things I don’t want to be.

Responsible. Stable. Rational.

Waiting for the day I get to cry again. To not have to care about how my emotional state affects another.

Anger, sorrow, frustration, despair.


Waiting for the day the reflection turns true again. When the water is still enough to flow unchecked.