Posted in m@dness


Some people say they will be there with you no matter what happens, some others will walk away from your life for reasons that dont make any sense at all and then there is the third category of people who will not just say that they will be there for you at all times, but will also hold your hand and walk with you through the happiest and worst of times. Thank god for them.

Am off for a week. No phones, no internet, nobody. I took a stand. And am glad I did. People who know me well, know that I am doing nothing wrong. And they are with me in the decisions I make. I am sick and tired of living life according to other people’s rules and so starting now, I am going to live life the way I chose to live it, the way I want.

Before I go, here’s a little something for you to ponder on; Do not ever comment on someone else’s life or the mistakes they make when you have done the same thing in the past. Someone forgave you and held you close inspite of all the mistakes you commited. Then why not give someone another chance? Why lose people to petty egos and misconceptions? Life is too damn short to waste it on hating and losing friends. And for once in your  life, just one damn time, be happy for someone else. The moment you start seeing happiness in other people,you will see your own miseries slipping away.

Oh and lastly, dont let anyone and I mean anyone take away what makes you happy. Its just not worth the hassle.

As for me, I am off to a place to meet someone whose mere presence makes me the happiest 🙂

Have a great week ahead 🙂

“Aint no mountain high enough

Aint no valley low enough

Aint no river wide enough

that keeps me from getting to you”

Posted in m@dness


I am not exactly sure why, but i seem to be on a rambling spree these days. Today as I sit down to write I have a  zillion disconnected thoughts on my mind. And so I decided that for a change I’ll just type whatever is on my mind. Again, let me warn you that none of it will have any connection!

Time flies. Time waits for no man. Time heals all wounds. All any of us wants is more time… Time to stand up… Time to grow up…Time to let go…

I know we’ve had our differences, and I’m sorry we’ve been out of touch. Believe it or not, I was trying to make everything better. I know you’re angry. I hope you’ll forgive me. Someday.

Too often, the thing you want most, is the one thing you can’t have. Desire leaves us heartbroken. It wears us out. Desire can wreck your life. But as tough as wanting something can be… the people who suffer the most, are those who don’t know what they want.

Sometimes, when people say sorry, you just have to forgive them. Coz there may come a time when you would be asking for forgiveness and that person might just not accept it. “What goes around, comes around.”

Sometimes the people who you give least value to can change your life.

Maybe I do believe it, all this “meant to be” stuff. Why not believe it, really? Who doesn’t want more romance in their life? Maybe it’s just up to us to make it happen. To show up and be meant for each other. At least that way you’ll find out for sure – if you’re meant to be or not.

When we follow our hearts, when we choose not to settle; it’s funny, isn’t it? A weight lifts, the sun shines a little brighter, and for a brief moment, we find a little peace.

I’m a human being. I make mistakes. I’m flawed. We all are.

Posted in m@dness

The gift

The other day when I told Ro that I write, he seemed really shocked and that stunned me. Yeah I know that not too many friends of mine know that I write and I dont want them to know. However Ro’s reaction got me thinking. Why do I write? Why do I write and not make a fuss about it? I write because I don’t know any other way.I write because my fingers hurt if I don’t and my mind doesn’t rest till it’s penned down(virutally). I don’t care whether it will please my people, or whether it’s going to win a Booker or whether it will truly be the best piece of writing I’ve ever done. I write because it makes me human. It’s my heart’s way of expressing itself.

I remember Das telling me that when I was really young, I used to take Readers Digest and read and laugh at the jokes. Mind you, I was hardly 5-6 years then and there is no way I’d understand what was written! I still laughed. I wrote essays and cut out pictures of important news and wrote about them in my own style. Like my own personal newspaper. I think Das has all that kept away safely. I used to draw too. Artist A. Ramachandran, a friend of an uncle used to term it as modern art then. It used to be window, lines, circles and god knows what shapes. But I remember Ramachandran uncle slowly deciphering it and asking me if I thought while i painted. He, dad and my mother were pretty sure that I’d be a creative person rather than a geeky person. I could not have cared less abt what I’m going to become. I wrote because I needed to. I wrote poems that didn’t make sense to anyone but me. I wrote books on spiral pads about people/incidents who meant something to me. My brother used to make fun of it saying i’d copied it from somewhere. But you must know that i am talking about an era where the internet was still unheard of.

I was someone and I felt something because I wrote. I would get up in the middle of the night and write thoughts that came into my head, dreams that were disjointed, rhymes that came from a consciousness I didn’t know existed. I wrote a diary for years. Everyday. Things that made me smile, things that troubled me, things that could be better.I wrote fiction. I wrote about things I thought about would/could happen and the emotions that I’d have if it did come true. I made a diary after diary of my life. I kept it locked away. Like all my other writing work. I didn’t want to show it to the world…not even the people closest to me. It was mine. It was private. It was not meant for public scrutiny. I didn’t want the criticism on it. I didn’t need the feedback. Until my brother stumbled upon it one day and made a hue and cry about it! Thats the day I stopped writing diaries and to this day, I havent written an entry.

I went on to study human minds. I thought it was the most fascinating thing. I still think it is. I wasnt too keen on learning psychology but as I read, learnt and wrote more, I realised how amazing the human mind was. I would come home numb from exhaustion, bruised from the reprimands and broken from the penury and that’s when I could do only one thing. I wrote.I sat down and filled the virtual world with stories of people and places and my feelings to all of it. Till I went to sleep. Till I knew my heart was happy for a few hours.


And then it happened. I decided…very hesitatingly…that maybe I should show something to the world…And I wrote an idea out. An idea that came from a conversation. An idea that had bearings to my own life. Something that a few people might be able to identify with. And I wrote my first post.It didn’t have a title then. It was just this idea. And it developed, like my life into something larger. I kept it closely guarded. Afraid that if I show it to someone they will bring it down. Afraid that people might think this is my life or that my life would turn out to be the way i wrote here. But I wrote, concentrating on just the feelings of the fictional incidents and events I created. The actions would come later. The mind doesn’t really know Love. Only the heart does. And that was my beginning. I deleted more than I wrote. I began to think that unless it was the best piece I’ve written, it should be trashed. I researched and the feelings turned into style.People who were regular readers commented that I was changing and that my style was improving. I became confused. That was not me.I always wrote because no one was looking. It was my secret place. And now it had to be all those things that I could not fathom I would be.

And it finished.I sent it to the recycle bin.I say recycle bin because I started again. Yet again. Being true to myself. I wrote with a passion that came from knowing that I had a gift. I could imagine really well and I knew it had to be given due credit. So I wrote. My soul was out there. For all to see. To criticise and hate. This was it.  And now as I wait for the reactions to come back, I know that my heart will not be able to take the dissension yet I will be strong enough to live another day.To write more.

No looking back. After all I have the gift.

Today, when I see the recognition I get, be it likes, shares or comments or just clicks/visits, I know and I am assured that my gift is real and not imagined. Not fiction.

Posted in m@dness


I feel blank today.
Unusually blank.
And unusually not-so-positive.
And I don’t even know what to write down.
But I am going to,anyway. Scribble down whatever comes to my mind.
The past few days have been weird.
I’ve been perplexed about most of the things.
I’ve been trying to hold on to happiness.
I’ve been fighting back my tears.
I’ve been ignoring my instincts.
I’ve cut down on people.
I have so many things to do. But I don’t feel like doing any.
There’s just one crazy dream that I’m clinging on to
And I’ve been waiting for something cryptic.
I’ve been cribbing over stupid things,driving my friends mad.
I’ve been thinking about the past.
And I’ve been over-thinking endlessly.
I’ve been doing everything that I shouldn’t be.
But it’s happening anyway.
And this post probably doesn’t make much sense.

I think I’ve got a bit of writers block.

I keep going to write a post and then my mind goes blank. I should go and stay in a log cabin in the middle of a forest and look out over a lake. Well that’s what they always do in the movies isn’t it?

Think my main barrier is that there has been a lot going on over the past few weeks, a lot of ups and downs, and I’m not confident enough to be as honest as I want to be. I promised myself I would be honest when writing this , but it takes a bit of getting used to. I’ll get there though.

Posted in close to heart, m@dness

My Muse

There was a time when I used to think that in order to write you just need a topic and a sense of direction. I am still being taught the ‘techniques’ to write, the ways to attract the audience, the difference between active and passive writing and above all, the RULES to write. Over the years I have learnt that writing is not just about rules and logic, it is also about emotions. It comes from inside. It is something that you can’t really learn. You can’t learn to be creative, it’s just there in a person and there is a time and place when it is going to come out. I get those days when I really want to write but can’t get past a few words, and then there are those days that I am surprised by looking at how fast I can type. Sometimes my thoughts flow faster than my typing speed and it’s hard to keep up with them. 🙂

I am an emotional person. I work with my emotions. I can’t write if I can’t feel it. I don’t want to write if I don’t feel it. My best writings have come from the heart and not from my mind. It is true that every writer has a muse, an inspiration, which he/she looks up to. It could be someone or something. For some, it is knowledge, for others it’s the time of the day. Some are inspired by places like a beach or a particular café.

For me, it has always been love. Love has given me strength and confidence. I don’t know how people think that love makes a person weak. Love has power–the greatest power of all. Love makes me confident. It makes me speak up. It does wonders. I am one of those luckiest people who have loved and been loved.

You wonder why I write, and why I write so passionately. I am passionate about writing because I love. I love and I write.

Posted in m@dness

Mixed Emotions

When I start writing this the only thing that is hovered over my mind is that I am just being sheer nostalgic. I don’t really know how far would I go writing this but all I know is that I have this urge to pour out all what I feel at this moment somewhere for I know I cant talk to anyone about it. Not that I have isloated myself or something but sometimes the things that amuse me, happiness that I find in a minute situtaion might not be the very same for the opposite person. Why do I make them waste their hearing abilities in giving a ear to all the stuff which means zilch to them. But writing in here I know somewhere there might be a single soul who would at least figure themselves in my shoes. I know too very melodramatic, but I can be this way sometimes.

All what I say, write or do, depends on my mood. And it fluctuates terribly. I might be in a different mood, and when the pendulum is back to its starting point of oscillation, you find me different. My motive of writing this hasn’t been certain enough. I had no idea that I’ll end up writing here, for when I start, I think I am not a good writer, maintaining a blog isn’t something I should be doing. I really don’t know what I should be doing. I can talk, talk for hours, talk things of which someone would have never thought I have knowledge about. But sometimes there is this part in me which doesn’t know what to talk. Doesn’t have words to frame a sentence to thank someone who made me feel so special that my skull goes in a hypothetical coma. Puts me in a situation where I am all choked and all I know is that I want to convey what I actually feel but I cant. It is something like this that happened to me. The things he had said, produced this new kind of feeling  within me which had never been sensed by me. Pride, I christened it. To be someone tiny in his life. That he is someone who plays an important role in my life, for what I am is a part of all the tiny things he thought me. For he is that part of my Alma Matter, that would never be forgotten, and will always be cherished. I know it is something I should be happy about, I should talk to. But the only person I always discussed this with seems to get a feeling that I am not a part of the aura that should surround him, so that hurts.

I knew I would not come real far with this. Mixed Emotions and me, synonymous as always!