When in your mid-20s, your first-world problems will take up most of the space in your life. The weather will always be too bad, the job always too stressful. More than half of the things won’t make sense. I promise. So buy a cat or a plant. Then feed the cat and water the plant. They might still not love you back but you’ll learn to water only what waters you. Spend a lot of money on clothes and expensive perfumes and beer. Call it self-love. Then blame it on capitalism and move on. Everything in the world is a scam. Learn how to cook, your body and bank account will thank you. Fall in love. Fight. Have sex. It’s priceless - most of the time. Have lots of coffee, people will seem less stupid. Don’t become a premature mother, to friends or boyfriends. They’ll have you by your throat. Be kind - it will solve some of your problems. Flush out your savior complex with your morning poop. Don’t take advice from the internet. Wake up tomorrow. Buy another plant. Watch it die. It’ll teach you that you cannot save everyone. Forgive yourself. Be kind. Live.

Sad little kids

I’ve always, always been a sad little kid. So much so that I started making an identity out of it. I couldn’t really tell myself apart. Sad songs, sadder movies. Come to think of it, the most vivid recollection of it is the dreadful birthdays. I hated every bit of it.

I’ve also, always found it easier to blame some past trauma, some silly ex, or just the world in general for the slightest inconvenience - but it just gets exhausting after a while if you ask me. And surprise surprise - nothing really changes! The world stayed the same, while I kept rotting in the pit - that I dug for myself.

I’ll be twenty-five in about three months and age might not have made me wiser, but the one thing it has taught me, is to get up from bed every morning and let the sun come in. Of course, the hiccups are complimentary - where I constantly feel like I am getting ahead of myself. But I am learning to brush these transitionary feelings aside. I think my brain is just sick and stupid at times and wants to convince me that I should die and the world hates me. But a strong-ass coffee helps, or maybe a cigarette. You pick your own poison.

I traveled out of the country for the first time in forever, survived on less than three hours of sleep each day, attended plenty of meetings without yawning, and learned to navigate applications and concepts that I never knew existed but, but, I wasn’t a sad little kid in any of it (keeping one tiny ten minutes break-down aside). I listened to country music, danced, sang, watched the sky change colours, met some of the sweetest people, had more beer than water, laughed, and went to bed happy - tired, but happy <3

I am talking about cats

I find transitions deeply fascinating. How the scorching heat of summers turn into warm embraces in winters, or how sugar cautiously becomes caramel. Sometimes, changes are inevitable and I’ve anyways always been taught to identify change with seasons. Cats in particular are calmer in October. They are quieter, untroubled, don’t wreak havoc on the garbage bin too often. This should be the perfect time to say that I am scared of cats. And dogs. I’ve never had a pet and I’ve always wanted to and I am almost sure that I’d be a good parent but sometimes the tea cup falls off my hands and sometimes I forget to water my plants and sometimes I forget that my grandmother’s cat is waiting for me by the door to let him in at night and sometimes I forget that there’s only so much space in the room that I can take, and that anger is nothing but helplessness and cats, yes cats.

We were talking about cats. I once tried to touch a cat and my hands felt all ticklish, and I really want to know what the cat felt, but cats can’t talk, and I cannot meow. I also don’t always remember that excessive affection is satan’s bestowal, a turbulence in one’s land. This is a warning to wear seat belts if you ever fall in love with me. I was saying, autumns are magical yet brief and winter is almost here.

Change is inevitable, and it ruins my pursuit of the everlasting, and all big words that mean the same. I don’t quite know what to make of this but I saw an old couple holding hands at the doctor’s chamber the other day and I fell in love a little bit and maybe no feeling is final, but this feeling was there when I woke up, and it hasn’t left and I feel it running on my spine, and I am telling you that transitions are beautiful.

And I am not saying how the morning unfailingly comes after every night, but that must be what it is, the winters come to compensate for summers. October came to make up for all the June sweat. One thing comes after the other and change is final but can I wish for the boy I love to stay, can I wish for winters to last, can I take all your sadness and shred it, can I read all the poetry in one night, can I endlessly fangirl over kamala das, can I just, can I be.

Popcorn in the theatre

The first time I went to watch the movies alone, I had spent something around a thousand rupees. And somehow managed to convince myself how that money could’ve been put to better use - to buy flowers for a friend, or something for maa, food for a beggar, etc. etc., you get the point. (this is only to tell you that doing things for myself has never really come naturally to me)

Speaking of going to the movies alone - it was an awkward experience to start with. I shouldn’t laugh too loud, munch on the nachos too much, I shouldn’t move my legs, and absolutely avoid going to the loo, under all circumstances.

This might come off as me making a mountain out of molehill - but for someone who found it utterly futile to do anything for herself, this was a baby step.

Last May, in the operation theatre, while I gasped for air, and the doctors held me down, I thought I wouldn’t make it to see another day. A feeling that never goes away really. It had hurt more than I can remember now. But, I remember wanting to live. I remember wanting to do everyday things, I wanted to lay my face on my lover’s lap, feel his hands on my hair, and stay like that through the day, and night. I wanted to wake up, ditch my phone, have lots of burgers, and even more wine.

Sickness is a great teacher. It teaches you how to look around and not fall to your knees and weep. It teaches you how to spell - fuck thank you.

So the second time I went to the movies alone, I chewed on the popcorn, loudly. Sipped my coke, and then used the loo.

There’ll always be a million different reasons to want to sit and sulk, and who’re we kidding, isn’t it always easier to blame the world for all the inconveniences in life?

But believe me, it takes only one step to make a little space in your life, for yourself. One brave and enormously kind step.