Fourth Morning

Day 4/100

A couple of months back, I clicked a picture from the same spot. Then, it was a landscape of brown, barren land. Still beautiful, but this- was today morning.

As I stood there and refreshed my eyes with that overwhelming green, as the proof of life filled my lungs with joy, I understood that time passes.

Whether I do something, or nothing at all, time doesn’t care. It moves at its pace. A minute will contain 60 seconds and 60 of such minutes will make an hour irrespective of whether you’re watching Netflix or the paint dry. Those things that we call “time-pass”/ “pastimes”- bullshit. It’s just a warping of our perceptions.

I remember this one time I reached the railway station more than an hour early for a train that’s always an hour late. I had too much luggage to keep walking around like I usually do. So, I found a spot, tucked my bags around me, and pretended to be a stone for the next 2 hours. It was 45°C, I was sweating buckets, but the station was busy and somehow, looking around, focusing on everything and nothing- it was the most relaxing thing I’d done that whole month.

Time passed at the same rate as any other day and I was in my train after 2 hours of doing absolutely nothing. In that instance, nothing was beautiful, nothing was relaxing.

I do the same thing in my room though, for weeks together sometimes. I put aside all my work, all the deadlines I’ve to meet and spend my time doing stuff of zero consequence. I try to convince myself I’m relaxing. But, the moment you have to convince yourself of that, you know it’s false. I’m avoiding, ineffectually trying to escape and all it does, at the end of the day, is add a dollop of guilt to the bowl of nicely whipped panic in my head.

Slowly, that guilt, dollops added everyday, overtakes the flavour of panic. Soon, it leaves me incapable of even getting out of bed; because- it tells me- what’s the point? Nothing’s gonna work anyway. Especially, if it’s you- you can’t make anything work. So, I stop working all together.

That isn’t the solution now, is it?

The solution is to Do Something. It could be as small of pulling a foot off the bed. But, something, anything has to be better than nothing on top of a whole lot of nothing.

That’s what my mum has been telling me since the beginning; but, surrounded by the brightness of green today, in that faint chill that makes every morning worth getting out of bed for, it hit home. Finally, my (knuckle)head figured out that irrespective of my involvement in the world, in my own life, time will pass and keep passing. I can fill that time with nothing or with something. That’s the choice I get to make.

The only choice.

So, what will it be for you?



18:49 hrs, In a Bar by Myself

First things first, I think all books should come equipped with a few blank pages. As it is, when you’re hit with inspiration when you’re reading and you need to get it out- what do you do? Not like you can leave your book and go in search of paper!

Anyway, my point is, vanity is a funny thing. For all you know, you think you look perfectly ordinary, one human next to the other and suddenly, someone’s calling you pretty. Then the second one agrees with him and before you know it, you’re all about looking at yourself in the mirror, counting the spots on your face and applying gunk that costs a kidney. You might say it’s ’cause of those words which stuck in your craw, but, why’d you take them seriously in the first place?

Then, there are times when you become so conscious about your “prettiness” that every photo you’re in, you can see the clenched muscles and awkward smile. Once you see it, you can’t unsee and that’s how you end up with a gorilla as your Facebook profile picture and they have to look at it at least three times before they can recognise your face and punch one of those pity thumbs up.

Seriously though, just chill (is what I tell myself frequently). Your face is what it is. Your body is the lump it anyway is. So, make peace with it.

And chill.


27 June 2019 : 12:51 PM, Feeling Like a Canned Sardine

In a cab meant for 6, we squeeze in at least 8. If it overturns while cutting in front of a truck from behind an SUV, I die. No plan B.

Confronting my own mortality isn’t new, but today, it reminds me…

Kidney failure and 4 days in the ICU made my grandfather mortal.

A second open abdomen surgery within an year of the first made my mother mortal.

And in the light of their mortality, my father’s shadow seems to slowly wake up to its own reality.

Not for him- for me.

They were the pillars of invincibility in my life. But now, exposed by the naked truth of human frailty, they’re crumbling.

And I’m growing stronger. Because finally, I’m growing up. Of course, I’ll always be their baby; but, I can’t be a baby anymore.

So here’s to growing up. Here’s to mortality.