The life before ..

The life before ‘social profile’ sat in prominence is hard to imagine. Was I this interested in people and their lives is hard to believe and argue? The number of times that I have liked someone’s travel album or someone’s new born baby’s photo is beyond count. Earlier all this information used to travel through in time and I would genuinely be happy or think or leave it to my imagination on how their lives would be. That imagination of mine would generate hope, would generate positivity and a lot of genuine warmth in me for them. Now, with everything right on my wall and in my face, I am pretty sure that my feelings are stagnant.

The same click, the same love, wow and sad expression, how much more do I have to add? Is that all that I am allowed to feel when I switch on that social media tab? I guess everyone likes to be angry once in a while and thank god, I am able to click on anger too but then do I really click it for posts of friends, colleagues and people by and large? No. I seldom react to being angry on a piece of news that I feel has an impact on me somehow. The conformity that I have been made a subject of, governs me day and night. I get notifications on everything that I post online. Why do people react? Why don’t they act? Have we always been a society that acts to react? I wonder.

Do I miss the age old traditions and long waits for a piece of news? Perhaps I have been pushed into the age of ‘now’. I am so used to getting reactions right as I finish posting that I no longer no what it feels like to wait. I could argue that it is a good thing to have happened in time. But I could also counter agrue that perhaps what waiting would have taught me, these instant reactions wouldn’t.

Do I then blame the social media for being a part of life? I guess I blame myself for ‘being social online’.




3am .. 

She opened her eyes and tried to figure out which city she was in. Delhi, Bombay, Kolkata, Bangalore, London, Sydney, Hong Kong, Vietnam, Cambodia, Kaula Lumpur, or was it some random city in the United States?! The dark room made it hard for her to see. The ceiling felt familiar but the lights were put out for her to read. She closed her eyes and decided to fall asleep. 

This became her 3am routine. Day after day, night after night, years went by and every night ended for her at 3am and every morning began at 3.05am for her. What followed then was a strange sequence of struggle in her thoughts and in the broad daylight when she smiled and laughed, even she didn’t know who she was. 

Several searches revealed strange facts about being up at 3am at night but those never appealed to her. What did appeal to her were those 5 minutes of transition between her reality and her existence. She could argue that her existence was her reality, well, actually not. Her realisations weren’t her reality. They made up for the reality that she chose to see and to trust. Her existence, well, she just existed like the rest of us, in flesh and blood. 

Finding it rather hard to tell and to digest, she decided to move through her transitions and reason. Oh well, like several others, she didn’t realise that even reasons weren’t available for the best known cases. Sometime in history books, she had read that it’s always a struggle between the mind and the heart so she decided to figure out what was it that was tearing her apart. Was it all in her mind or was in all in her heart?! Something somewhere did need to be fixed for her life didn’t feel like life usually does. 


The very fact that none of us have a choice to die closes all avenues and norms of ‘freedom’ that we keep talking about time and again through centuries. We are all born out of other humans. We evolve into humans. We carry out tasks like other humans. We basically move up and down and in circles like every other human. In these movements through time and air, we entangle ourselves into thoughts, theories and actions. We react, we act, we feel and we live. We force feed ourselves into gaining knowledge of the unknown given that we feel very strongly about the power of the universe that we are all a part of! However, in the process we fail to acknowledge that this very universe didn’t give us the key to be equal and to be free in our human form 😂 What it has done though is this. It has given each of us a desire, a little code of information in each of us that makes us all exactly equal and exactly similar. So I don’t understand these baseless debates around equality and around freedom.. Doesn’t suit us humans to even talk of freedom because for sure, the only certainty that we do know of, that is, death, we don’t even have the freedom to choose it so what on earth are we talking about and killing each other and fighting for?! 


Her signatures didn’t match, neither did her cards work 

Heels hurt her ankles; and the back zip made her uncomfortable

She stood patiently looking at her watch 

She was hoping something, somehow would tick in the clock 

The minutes turned to hours and hours into a day

Her routine of waiting never changed its way 

Righteousness never flowed in through the passage of her door 

She never knew what it would be if life had been tuned not abhorred

Perhaps destiny, is what she consoled her heart of!

Maybe the winds were listening to her in disgust and moved on 

Patience gave into pretence; circles reduced to dots 

Brokenness defined itself through her unnerving faith and trust.

My friend. In pain. 

‘In pain and in suffering, I’ll be there for you’
I had said it once! 

Little did I know that 10 years on she would call with a statement ‘I am terrible. Did you hear that, I am a terrible terrible human.’

It was hard to hear her cry over phone,

It was hard to explain anything to her.

All I could gather that she was made to feel pathetic and she was torn apart. 

The world that she was a part of convinced her that she wasn’t theirs from the end to the start.

I couldn’t comprehend her pain,

I couldn’t convince her otherwise,

When she felt her integrity was scrutinised.

She spoke at length and I heard in silence,

I kept repeating that she was in denial.

She didn’t seem to hear me right,

Instead she declared to me that she was completely unfit to fight with life. 


When a child is born, the umbilical chord is cut by someone, he is cleaned up by someone, he is wrapped up by someone and he is fed by someone. He, is dependent on everyone around; he trusts everyone around; he is a part of them and they are a part of him. To him, they are all part of the same ‘life’. Trust, faith, love and being take care of comes as part and parcel of his very entity. Right after he is born, he places his trust in everyone without knowing his relationship to them, without knowing what work they do professionally, without knowing how much money they have or how much money he has. He is born a human and he comes with his basic rights of trusting humans for being human and for making him one of them in time, through what they all share, ‘life’ 🙂 

Then why through the years, these very core rights of his on humans needs to be earned back?! Why does he doubt intentions of others?! Why does he think twice and even thrice or several times before loving another human?! Why his vision of ‘trust’ gets restricted?! Why?! 

Life, never said to the soul that was born that ‘go and earn money, earn a name for yourself’.. Instead life said, ‘go and live me. Live me well.’ .. And ‘live well’ took into materials so deeply that the very core of his rights as a human, on other humans and on life itself, got blurred. 

Why would trusting another human beyond relationships be so hard?! Why would loving another human beyond defined boundaries be hard?! These are what we were born with, these are what we are made of! So why would we bring and build other humans differently?! 

You, the life

That awkward sensation of a touch, 

that feeling of being loved, 

that moment when your world collapsed, 

the burden of being lied; 

that process of breathing that you had to re-learn, 

that accountability that you had to burn, 

the roads that you had to stare, 

that journey which was fruitlessly despair; 

the sentence that broke your soul, 

the gifts that burned your clothes, 

that freedom that even you envisage, 

that glory that you would rather cultivate; 

the nation that you have always loved, 

the books that you have covered up; 

the writings that you have torn into pieces, 

the knowledge that you reuse to cliche; 

that body of yours, when it was criticised, 

that moment when your associations failed to divine; 

the dilemma that you breathe in, we all do; 

you’re the mother, the carrier of life, 

undeniably broken yet forgivingly new.