Letter from You. To Me.

Hello you, the future me,

I am talking to you. And since you are reading this, let me tell you something, that probably no one has told you yet. You survived. Yes. That’s right. You fought valiantly, and have survived it all. You fought each of those moments where you thought that it’s time to give up, that it’s time you take a break, that you have had enough, that life’s been unfair to you and that there is no God that exists, because well, if he did, then why would he allow you to go through all the sufferings and pain and failures. There have been moments where you had the fundamental question, that each suffering soul asks, “why me? Why me, when I did no wrong to anyone”.

But what matters is this: You fought each of those moments, even if at times you sort of spared a moment thinking about giving in to these thoughts but didn’t. What matters today is that you stood strong on your ground, on your belief system, and that you went on to live, either with it or around it. Let me tell you what all you have gone through already, as of this last day of this August month of 17.

You made some terrible choices. Terrible choice of your University to graduate from. A terrible choice of trying to protect your high school love, so hard that you suffocated that person right out of your life. You took away someone’s freedom, thinking that you only meant the best for that person. Because you thought what you believed was the only truth. Because you thought world is either black or white. Right or wrong. Your way, else it’s the highway. Well guess what, when you give people choices in binaries, you lose them altogether.

Quite recently, Facebook popped up with one of your pained poems from the year 2014. You know, the ones which show This Day That Year. I don’t know if they still feature that, at the time when you are reading this. Anyway. Upon going back to that Facebook post, you saw that the post from 2014 was itself a re-share from the year 2012. So 2012-14-17, at the exact same time of the year, in fact the same dates even, you have been at the very same cross roads. In these 5 years you have physically moved on, but you remained stuck in the same time stamp. Your anthem still remains Johnny Cash’s Hurt. Yes, you are still listening to it, even right now, while sitting alone through the night at Ranchi for your cursed project. You still catch re-runs of How I Met Your Mother, tagging yourself to Ted Mosby guy, with all his emotional mess ups.

You barely moved on with one heart ache, and you fell in love again, with another beautiful soul. Or so you thought. You remained committed, changed your entire life plans for this one girl. Almost tied down with her. But. Again. All in vain. But a different story this time. You loved someone who could not love you back the same way. Yet another wrong choice. Her loss I guess because I know am damn good at loving!

You had brilliant job offers, one from Microsoft, and another from Intel. But being the kind of weirdo you have always been, you let go of them again. You chose an extremely low paying choice which grilled your ass like never before. You failed terribly in this job, because you thought you knew it all within first 10 months of getting into it. Pride came your way. Humility sort of got covered under Harry Potter’s invisibility cloak. Its presence would be felt at certain occasions, but temporarily disappeared.

Because of your own poor self-care, you screwed up with your health. A 23 year old who is currently looking like the digits were reversed. Typhoid, that got back within a month, a spinal injury going worse, since 2011. And pained muscles all over. Why? Wrong choices.

So what good has this life been so far to you? What is it that you believed? What is it that still never deterred you from taking the wrong calls? Why are you reading this, years down from today?

Now here’s the good part. Enough with the self-roasting.

You have always believed in miracles. You have a very simple attitude – if one wants something, real badly, he is supposed to go down all the way down. Fighting every single bad, to get what he wants. Not letting anything rest on the weak shoulders of destiny.

You never give up. Even when you failed in your job, you took ahead plenty of learnings ahead, made a place for yourself among the best of minds around. Even at times when your body tried to give up, you pulled off another all-nighter completing the task in hand. Because you loved doing what you were doing, which was NOT sitting in a cubicle compiling tons of codes.

You know love. You understand love. You have loved people around you with all your honestly and commitment. You crave for love. You have always been surrounded by it. Your parents are like no one else’s. Who have seen you in your worst, in your best, in your most horrible choices, in the prime of your times. Your family, your cousins, your friends. For times when you had thoughts of letting go and start leading a life just so simple, it has been these beautiful loving souls, the true loves of your life, who didn’t let you fall back. Who stood behind you to push you to walk another mile, when you thought it’s time to sit on a boulder and maybe sleep for a while.

What is your belief system? It’s simple. Do no bad to anyone. The checks and balances will be taken care by the energies of the Universe. You have a habit of not giving up on someone else. Then why give up on yourself?

Times right now are messed up my friend. You are perhaps about to get jobless 16 days from now. You have no idea what you are doing in your life. The levels of unsurity of where life is taking you is pretty damn high. But isn’t that sort of exciting too? When you went for hiking, in Kasauli all by yourself, you had no clue where the unravelled roads led, but you still went ahead, right? And then! Your age is on your side! You are just 23! You are NOT supposed to be all sorted out, right? I mean, if everything was sorted already, then what is the purpose of life? If all the questions are pre-answered, then what are you here to solve?

Intuitions. Go with your intuitions. You have held yourself back way too much. Stop seeking approvals from others. You are you. You are what makes you, you. Makes sense that way. There are plenty of others, out there, but just one piece of you. Go write another poem. Go ahead with your book. Go ahead with composing the songs you want. No one’s stopping you from having the long mane. Unless ofcourse you are having a hairloss problem!

So even if nothing makes sense right now, we are going to go ahead with whatever occurs next. In all the failures up till now, we both have realized one thing. In the end, it all works out. Maybe that happens the hard way, but you just happen to land where you are supposed to land. You might have taken a longer route, a detour, a path with pain, a tiresome road, but nevertheless. You reach where you planned and wanted to reach. You know that, in your heart. The loses you have had, were something that you did hope for to happen at some tiny timid part of your soul, which you tried to suppress. But well, the timid guy is mostly the right guy too!

So whatever it is that you went through, are going through, will be going through by the time you re-read this, they were all planned by you, yourself. The thought of it occurring was already beamed by you into the Universe. Hence, their occurrence. Just like when you toss the coin, you know which side of it you prefer to land on your palm.

Learn to cope up at your own sweet pace. If you are pained, then allow the tears to roll. And if you are joyous, then bring out that smile through your, I hope the still existent, beard and moustache.

Look man, end of the day, your mates will be there to help you out of the well of your troubles, but it is going to be you who has to climb your way up.

I am sure you are about to, or even better, already featured on that 30 under 30 magazines. Know this much. We both have gone through shit because we don’t know how to play it safe. We are the stubborn kind. And no matter how much people suggest that we take a break, that we must take the safe path, just don’t. After all,

“Every Second That’s Passing By Is Becoming Your Past. Better Make It Into A Story Worth Telling Tomorrow!”

We are the different kind. We do not “accept” things in their generic packaging. We generate our own goals, and make sure we get them.

Good night,
You.

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A beard enough experience

There is no doubt that life teaches you but sometimes your actions and choices also end up teaching you something significant. So it was August 2015 when I got fascinated by long beards and geared up to attain it . I thought it was not a big deal to do it as it’s gonna take only shit loads of laziness which I already had. But I was brutally wrong in this. Seriously. you get to spend a lot of money and time in salons and in hair products, which was unusual for me.

As I used to follow more of hipsters I thought of complementing my beard with long hair also so that I can end up with an undercut pomp kinda thing. So with this long messed up hair and eccentric beard, majority of the people around me started denunciating it. I have had this unusual habit of trying new things like piercing my eyebrows, making an explicit mark on eyebrow, a geometric design on the sideburns and a lot more. And every-time I got the similar kind of horrendous reaction. But these things were little temporary so the criticism didn’t last too long.

I grew my beard for almost around 400 days. I did not want to prove or learn anything, I just wanted to grow it. That’s it. But the experience made me learn something  (and laugh while writing this) . People used to come and enquire if everything is fine with my life. Comments on religion conversion and intoxication habits became as common as  Trump is in memes now a days. I used to have terrorist jokes in every meal. My beard used to be the ecosystem of all the microbes in this universe for the people around me. Not a single conversation went without it in these 400 days. I got even counseled by few people. My friends were afraid to present me to their parents. But I not at all got affected by these things. I just used to laugh at those things and some times feel pity on the people who used to relate my beard to Islam and hence carping it. Common man, grow up. Not all the muslims are bad. Don’t condemn a whole religion race just because of few assholes.

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The thing which intrigued me was that it was only a period of few hundred days for me, but what about the people who undergo this kind of experience through out their lives. A lot many people including me show similar kind of behavior to the people whom we think have some or the other kind anomalies. It may be dark complexion, some extra pounds of weight, facial hair, being homosexual or anything.  I am sure many of my friends may have said those things in good humor and I took in that way. But not every one is good at adsorbing it.

Now I am gonna say something which has been told by hell lot of people since our childhood but since I have had a recent encounter with it so I am yelling it again. To all the unconventionally experimental people and the people portrayed as outliers by the world , do what you feel like.Trust me you are awesome. People will praise as well as criticism your normality and rareness. Don’t waste your time in making people understand it. Take it as good humor, because most of the people have good intention. If not, you can assume it. I still feel good that I had a beard which passed the second button of my shirt. Feel good about your identity and execute your ideas without worrying about the world (If and only if it is not destructive).

P.S There were many people who loved my beard as well as hair. Even I with few of my friends incepted a beard club also.

How to get a 5-minute job done in 2 hours?

10:30 am.
Deserted room. Dusty tables. Wires running all over the place as if hijacked by thin black snakes, like in that movie ” Snakes in the Plane”. A lady, wearing hand-woven cream coloured sweater and bright, and I mean slide the photo-editor-slider-to-extreme-right-level of bright red shawl, just entered. The scarcely populated hall nods a little, tells me she must be a senior in ranks here. 15 desktop pc’s, and only 4 have been booted up. 1 out of these 4 machines have Flipkart, Amazon and SnapDeal opened up. All tabs with different brands of wrist watches opened up. Thin straps. Colours red, pink and all shades of these two colours. I guess the surd guy’s daughter’s birthday is coming up. The discussion is about where to find the express delivery option. Forgot to buy a gift, and now looking for a way out, this guy.
E-com has changed the entire structure of shopping and gifting in India within the last few years. An age when shopping online had hesitance to an age when shopping from a local mart raises more hesitation. Blame the easy, zero argument, return of goods facility these sites provide.

10:50 am. 5th pc boots up. But attendance in the room hasn’t changed. An attitude that reflects the attitude of all Govt. Departments. Morning gossip is an essential start of the day. The old machine apparently takes some more time, time worth some last night alcohol party gossip sharing, to rise up to the Green Meadow wallpaper of Windows XP. The red shawled woman calls out to the lady who has been swirling the spoon in a large mug for the last 15 mins. What we call, “beating the coffee”, for a creamier coffee. So this red woman hands over a bunch of papers to her. She walks straight to the worn out photocopier cum scanner. God! This copier needs to be admitted to the ICU ward of Hewlett Packard service station urgently. Such loud screeches.

11 am. Still no sign of any increase in the attendance of the room. Punjabi songs are flowing through the air molecules around; sharing of songs is underway now. The guy I am supposed to meet is nowhere to be seen.

government offices in India

The scarcely populated Government Offices!

Steel racks being used to the best. Heavy Index files all around, with wide plain sheets pasted on their spines, marking what the file is all about.
Meanwhile, coffee is ready. The butter bite biscuits are being garnished on flat, embossed with flowery designs, steel dishes.

“No thanks.”, I promptly reply, to the lifting of eyebrows by the helping staff, presuming I was being offered a cup!

11:30 am. So the guy arrives finally. Heavy corduroy coat. French beard. Santa belly.

11:35 am. Documents signed. Letters picked up. I am on my way back. So all I needed to do was a 1 and a half hour travel, over one hour of patience for a 5-minute job. Day well wasted.

Grow your wings again!

Grow your wings again, oh cruel heart,
For it was not my fault that he broke you.

Grow you wings again, my dear heart,
For I was abused by a heart not red but blue.

Grow you wings ’cause I need you to my stubborn heart,
I trusted him with you. He, all my secrets who knew.

Grow you wings again, we are safe now,
For he is long gone and its time we flew.

Grow your wings my heart, oh please,
We found a traveller new.
Traveller to travel with to mountains and rivers and lush green grass topped with the morning dew…grow your wings again. For the journey just began.

So much more…

I was color blind,
But with her I saw clarity, so much more.

I lacked what they called laughter,
But our jokes cracked me up, so much more.

Life usually seems so waste,
But there is always more to it, so much more.

I realized so many dreams,
And still had dreams so many more.

Letters stopped coming. Seasons changed.
But I had ink bottle still half full. For I had to write so much more.

The Scar’s Still Deep.

He woke up, with a wide smile. His heart was throbbing, ready to tear his chest apart and jump out. It was a dream, but as vivid as life. It had been days since he saw her, rather years now already, in life. But today, he finally had a glimpse, even if it was a dream. Yes, a dream this vivid, as vivid as life.

Minutes had gone by. He now started recovering, into the reality. The dream had come to an end. He, now, felt the chills of the northern air. Chills that could freeze. The blood felt like being called back upon by his heart, as he sat still like a ghoul. And now, there were no winter air chills. These were the chills that could freeze a soul.

This girl, this petite girl, who could do no harm, or so he thought, had entered his life, half a decade back. She plucked his heart out, and threw some life into it. Made him a man, who could now laugh, breathe, smile and enjoy small pleasures of life. And he allowed this sin. He let her pluck his heart, and carve it with her own knife.

Sin! Sin! Sin! Is what living beings around were yelling into his ear. But he couldn’t care less, for his heart, mind, soul was already handed over to this petite brunette. She showed him perspective. She showed him songs. She showed him breath, what it felt like living. He always feared life, but now with her, he feared death.

Everything seemed just perfect. On the last day of his life, half hour before he died, she cried, ”I love you! And I fear, I can’t live without you!”. He returned the words with a ‘too”. But the devil had different plans. Satan started dancing at the last half hour. He did not know, that would be the last night with her, and future had no chance.

Half of half a decade later, today, he sees her still. But not in life, for he is dead already, yet he still dreams. He woke up, with a wide smile. His heart was throbbing, ready to tear his chest apart and jump out. He finally had a glimpse of her. Her mother calling from the balcony. It was her, it was her, it was her without a doubt.

She was with him, as her mother watched up from their house, who knew, he loved her daughter, heads over heels. They had endless talks, right through the nights, right through the days. It felt like theirs was a story, that was about two inseparables. They celebrated even the month anniversaries, each month, in their own ways.

That was the dream he had that night. He dreamt of her. Her eyes, her sweet lips, her hair, her smile, everything from a fairy tale. He remembered every feature clearly, the mole beneath her lips, the long nails painted always. He even remembered how she weighed. In his dreams, it was their spring days.

Time. Though time is a player, who keeps his cards close. Never reveals. Has never disclose, as to what is kept in his deck. That bastard. Oh Time! That bastard! Showed them days, euphoric. Made him feel that she is now all his. All of her was all of his. Made them feel like question of tying knots was now only rhetoric.

Everything came smashing down. She went away. He was left behind. For months to come, he kept writing letters and odes to her deaf ears. The ship had sailed, said she, without bidding goodbyes. Hell. He would have never accepted a goodbye. So she moved on as he held on. She went away, but he would stay.

Half of half a decade has gone by, and yet he holds on to her, her spirit. A dream makes him smile, a dream makes him cry, a dream is all he got to live now. He has been dead long time past. Only these dreams act as a window to his life, to his past. He walks alone between the fringes of time, one moment present, most moments in past.