Dream Catcher

To those who belong to the Road!

2021-05-10T14:31:00.004+08:00

अब न मुझको याद बीता

मैं तोह लम्हों में जीता
चला जा रहा हूँ
मैं कहाँ पे जा रहा हूँ...
कहाँ हूँ?
इस यक़ीन से मैं यहाँ हूँ

की ज़माना यह भला है
और जो राह में मिला है
थोड़ी दूर जो चला है
वह भी आदमी भला था
पता था
ज़रा बस खफा था
वह भटका सा राही मेरे गाँव का ही
वह रास्ता पुराना जिसे याद आना
ज़रूरी था लेकिन जो रोया मेरे बिन
वो एक मेरा घर था
पुराना सा डर था
मगर अब न मैं अपने घर का रहा
सफर का ही था मैं सफ़र का रहा
इधर का ही हूँ न उधर का रहा
सफर का ही था मैं सफ़र का रहा
इधर का ही हूँ न उधर का रहा
सफर का ही थ मैं सफ़र का रहा
मैं रहा...

मील पत्थरों से मेरी दोस्ती है
चाल मेरी क्या है राह जानती है
जाने रोज़ाना...

ज़माना वही रोज़ाना
शहर शहर फुर्सतों को बेचता हूँ
खाली हाथ जाता खाली लौट'ता हूँ

ऐसे रोज़ाना
रोज़ाना खुद से बेगाना...
जबसे गाँव से मैं शहर हुआ

इतना कड़वा हो गया की…

की ज़हर हुआ

मैं तो रोज़ाना ना चाहा था

ये हो जाना मैंने ये उमर वक़्त रास्ता गुज़रता रहा
सफ़र का ही था मैं सफर का रहा.......

सफ़र का ही था मैं सफर का रहा.......

Cheers!

Dukkha

2020-02-19T11:21:00.000+08:00

I hide my face in the pillow and cry loudly. I press its velvet surface on my face. My closed eyes try to contain the tears until they are full and they start overflowing from the corners of my eyes. My face is moist with tears and the steam of my breath. My heart is saddened with grief and I cry non-stop.

I feel the grief very strongly.

So strongly that I am in a state of complete denial. I do not want to live this moment. I just want to get transported into another reality- I want this to be a dream. I push my heightened senses of grief to believe my Disbelief.

And while I am in a state that is in between the two, I get transported into another reality. I wake up with tears in my eyes, a wet pillow and heavy breathing...into this alternate world which I have been taught is reality.

I don't know how many realities I exist in. I don’t know if I can cherry pick the ones I want to live in. I don’t know if after I have chosen one, I will be stuck in it until infinity. I don’t know if I live upto infinity. I dont know if death is actually another name of life.

But I do know that grief is beyond infinity. Suffering of humankind – Dukkha is timeless,

and it exists in every dimension of spacetime in every alternate reality. How many realities have I hopped on from… and still I haven’t escaped Dukkha.

Every reality is a new manifestation of Dukkha.

Lokah Samastah Sukhino Bhavantu

“May all beings everywhere be happy and free, and may the thoughts, words, and actions of my own life contribute in some way to that happiness and to that freedom for all.”

5 Types of men on Dating apps

2019-12-06T18:36:00.001+08:00

The phrase ‘men will be men” does not apply to men on dating apps. There is a variety here, with each category has its distinct features.

1. The Perpetual “Dick pic” Sender.

Not because he owns a big lighthouse but possesses a skill that enlarges objects in cameras. His photo library is full of such photos which he scrolls through while having dinner. He uses these pictures as an icebreaker. He has a blank profile with 2 photos- a gym selfie and a close up of a Martini.

P.S. His character’s name is “Bazooka” in his Play Station.

2. The “Marriage Only” guy-

He already has a date in mind with you- much before he even matched with you. It is in the format of DD/MM/YYYY which is fixed for his marriage, has printed invitation cards, and the guests’ lists is ready. His extended family and friends are excited and his cute little nieces have their gowns stitched for the party. The only thing remaining to be finalized is the girl.

P.S. He doesn’t believe in fake news like compatibility, wavelength or chemistry.

3. Emotional Tom with Mommy issues-

He is between 20-23, plays guitar, watches MILF porn and matches only with older women. He is on his first job, and over beers he tells that he wants to get to top MBA schools and work in a shiny office. His top Spotify artist is Billie Eilish.

After every date, he asks you to rate the date on a scale of 1-10.

P.S. He doesn’t pay for drinks.

4. Sapiosexual anti- social Geezer-

He is here just because he has no better place to be. He is grumpy, quirky, socially awkward and is addicted to his computers/ alcohol or being alone. They suck at flirting. They have been single for a long time and are so comfortable with it. They are confused if they want to date or just need a vent. They judge women on their general knowledge, and haven’t been to a cinema hall in the last 8 years. They send one word replies. They get blocked every 3 seconds by the Chinese.

P.S. I am one of them.

5. The Real Man-

He is perfect! He listens, he cares, he pampers. He is good looking and one of his hobby is cooking. He makes you laugh and is good at what he does. He is well respected in his profession and doesn’t smoke. He doesn't waste your time in playing games. The only problem is that they are not on dating app.

P.S. Because they don’t exist.

Which one is your favourite?

Truth is...

2019-07-17T15:41:00.002+08:00

Why is Truth so painful

So disagreeable

So disquieting

So troubling

So isolated

So agonizing

So objectionable

Until I do not accept it.

The moment I accept,

Suddenly Truth is so beautiful

Like a scar that shows that it healed a wound.

I like scars

They remind that the pain is momentary

Just like Truth.

Loneliness is the human condition

2019-06-21T11:07:00.000+08:00

“Loneliness is the human condition. Cultivate it. The way it tunnels into you allows your soul room to grow. Never expect to outgrow loneliness. Never hope to find people who will understand you, someone to fill that space. An intelligent, sensitive person is the exception, the very great exception. If you expect to find people who will understand you, you will grow murderous with disappointment. The best you’ll ever do is to understand yourself, know what it is that you want, and not let the cattle stand in your way.” ~ Janet Fitch

Blood Red Silence

2019-06-14T17:03:00.002+08:00

I am alone and I feel alone

I see the other side of the harbour and I know there is no heart beating for me.

I am miserable and I feel miserable
I feel the cramps in the body and I know that they are not physically induced.

I am in pain and I feel the pain
Why is heart ache so painful? Why there is no blood visible?

In this city full of lights

Why is everyone dwelling in this darkness without questioning the pain;

Why in this overpopulated city there is none to sit beside me and tell me that all will be fine;

Why there is none to talk to. I have so many stories to tell, so many jokes that I have written;

Why there is so much silence in this crowded city full of bars and restaurants and chatters;

Why is there dried blood in every pair of eyes, costly suits and fake smiles;

Is it Me who is sad or.......this city is...

Life, Death and my Pink Dress

2019-06-11T17:42:00.001+08:00

I often think about Life
And Death.

Living means going to work and waiting for lunch time, rent payment reminders, always be sleep deprived, never winning lottery tickets, spending weekends alone in your matchbox apartment eating comfort food

Living a longer life means more wrinkles, knee pain and baldness

Whereas,

Dying means none of that. The absolute emptiness that transcends into the eventual nothingness

You see, I have figured out the Truth. All mysteries of life sorted. In my thirties.

Am I prepared for death, you ask?
Life has thrown me into such situations for which I was never prepared for.
A cheating partner, loss of job, change of countries, depression.
I am as ready for death as I have never been for life.
Is death as difficult as life, I ask.

I can sort everything in my life or death

EXCEPT one.

‘What happens to my Pink Dress when I die”

This lingering unanswered question remains in my mind.

I have shared my ideas, my body, and even food with people

BUT never my Pink Dress

What happens to my Pink Dress when I die

It is so dear to me that every morning when I open my wardrobe, I glance at its beauty
The times when I wasn’t ready for the world, it prepared me to face the ugly truth of life with its beautiful color and softness

I doubt if I’ll be what I am in absence of my Pink Dress.

So what happens-

When I die…

Will it be disposed off

Will someone else wear it

Will it be donated

What if a thinner girl wears it with a wrong belt and worst, wrong pair of shoes! Oh God!

What if a girl wears it with a red lipstick! Pink and red don’t go together! Please

I’ll be groaning in pain lying in my grave.

Will my mother give it to my cousin whom I despise; my soul won’t be resting in peace.

What if I die in a plane crash

While wearing my Pink Dress

Will they bury me, with my Pink Dress

Silk is 100% biodegradable, it will disappear in a few days’ time, oh God.

What if my parents decide to cremate me

I can’t imagine the sight of my Pink Dress being in flames

I am not scared of Death.

It is an ultimate Truth that I accept.

And attachments, cravings and desire, as Buddha says bring sufferings.
So if any of this Karma and Rebirth and Soul and God thing is real, I want to be reborn, with a possibility to wear my Pink Dress in the next life.

But honestly, what happens to my Pink Dress when I die…..

The story of Ambrose (True story)

2018-12-20T17:33:00.000+08:00

The most painful Painkiller

I had it all before I turned 20. I was a 19 years old Malaysian Chinese boy who was married and had got a scholarship for higher studies in Australia. As Asian middle class parents, they tell you that overseas education is important if you want to make it big in life.

In 1980, the whole Malaysian Chinese family attended my graduation ceremony in Australia. They saw me flying my cap in the air. My grandma particularly felt happier and Mum had never been so proud of me.

They left for Malaysia and I stayed back to pursue my Masters in Australia. I was a star of the family now.

Everything had been well except Mum’s growing cancer. It had been becoming more and more painful. And there I was, an overseas educated, helpless guy who couldn't do anything to ease her pain.

Dad was trying not to tell me everything about her health so that I could concentrate on my studies. But at the back of my mind, I knew there was much more than I was aware of.
After my final exams, I went back home immediately, to see Mum. She was already bed ridden by that time. And that answered why Dad had been trying to hide from me.

Her health was deteriorating. She was losing weight. She was in pain. And by pain I mean hours and hours of endless, dark pain with an ear- numbing sound.

If you ask me, why was she in pain, I have to remind you that back in 1981, 37 years ago, there wasn't much that doctors could do except asking us to pray. Even the availability of morphine was restricted. Morphine is a strong painkiller and acts directly on the central nervous system to decrease the feeling of pain.

I was watching Mum groan in pain day in and out. I would sit by her, holding her hand. I could feel the roughness in her palms from years of housework & laundries. I would stroke her forehead telling her all will be fine and wipe her tears. In return, she would say that my presence was easing her pain but I know she was lying. Her cancer pain was excruciating. Sometimes, she would require 2- 3 morphine tablets when the pain became unbearable.

I spent nearly two weeks at home, mostly by her side. We talked about my childhood, about the world, even death and how much she missed watching me grow up. We talked for hours in her room overlooking the garden. Probably while growing up, I didn't get time to talk to her in such detail. Why do grown ups start talking less and thinking more.

I was seeing her die day by day. I would be holding her hand, telling her silently how much I loved her, as, as Asians you don't tell your parents that you love them.

That night on 31 Dec 1981, she was crying in pain. She said she couldn't bear it anymore. She asked for morphine. Dad put the last 2 tablets in my hands. And looking at her in agony, I knew that it wasn't going to be eased with just 1 tablet now. She needed more.

She was asking me for morphine. So, I did this. I made 4 pieces of 1 tablet and gave it to her, one by one and tricked her to believe that with 4 tablets, she would feel better.

Her suffering was becoming intolerable. She asked me for more morphine. But I kept holding on to the last one.

She kept struggling with the immense pain and begging me for morphine.….. she died. In pain. In front of me.

Her last words were (full of anger): “Give it all to me, I am dying”.

So there I was, with my mother’s dead body- stiff with pain, her eyes closed- still wet in tears, and a morphine tablet in my hand. She did not need it anymore.

She died the most painful death. With a painkiller in my hand.

For the world, 31 Dec 1981 marked an end of the year, but for me, it was the beginning of an era of guilt.

For me, Time stopped. I remain stuck in the last moment of my mother begging and I holding on to the last morphine.

I returned to Australia. I knew I had not just lost my mother, but a lot more. I could not eat, sleep or study or concentrate on married life.

The whole night, I would look at the ceiling with my eyes as fixed as a stone, asking myself, “Why didn't I give her the last morphine. Why did I hold it back”.

I would watch my wife sleep by my side, and I would be awake. I would cry secretly in the deep agony, asking the same question again and again, all night. How not only I lost my mother, but how much I hated myself for holding on to something that would have eased her pain in the last moments. I wanted to punish myself. In the worst way possible.

I finished my studies and started working for a big investment bank in Australia, but Mum’s teary face kept appearing in front of my eyes begging me for morphine.

I would see other mothers in the street and wished Mum was alive like them. I regretted that I could not buy gifts for her as I was a student then. Keep aside pampering her, I did not even fulfill her last wish.

I had nobody to ask forgiveness from. Mum was dead. She had left me. Forever. She was never returning. And, in her last moments, I chose to hold on to that tablet and watched her die in excruciating pain.

I wanted to call Dad and ask him why he let me take that crucial decision when he knew I was immature. Why didn't he do it himself?

But then, I kept myself in her shoes. He was a husband of a dying woman. He was seeing his partner dying for the last 5 years and every passing day was distancing him from his wife. He was far away from his sense of decision making and logical thinking.

It wasn't his deliberate mistake. So I forgave him. But that didn't mean that I could forgive myself. I hated myself. And I was dying from inside every day.

The guilt changed my appearance and anyone could tell from my face that I was at war with myself with me losing from both sides in every scenario.

Almost every night, I would dream of her. The pain of losing her manifested in different ways. Every morning I woke up with silent tears running down my cheeks. My wife, who slept beside me, like an outsider, didn't know the demons I was dealing with.

After the 5 years, I went back to Malaysia to visit my father. He had remarried and was still living in the same house. Mum’s room became the guest room that nobody used. My father & his wife slept in another room.

In the afternoon I went with my father to visit Mum’s grave. I prayed silently – “Ma, I have come home to visit you.” I sat there and cried.

We had dinner at home. Dad asked me if I would sleep in Mum’s room which had been vacant all these years. I agreed. I looked from the window, at the garden- dried leaves all over. I knew I would be spending this night looking at the ceiling in this emptiness.

But, that night, I fell asleep. A deep slumber. Mum appeared in my dream.

I was lying down on the bed. I saw her walking towards me. She looked as young and beautiful as she did, just before she got sick. She was wearing her bright yellow burial dress. She sat down next to me on my bedside.

I told her that I miss her badly and feel so alone without her. I said; “I am sorry, Ma. I didn't give you the last morphine; you had to suffer so much because of me. I could have eased your pain but I didn't. I am in deep agony. I haven’t forgiven myself since”.

Her hands reached out to my temples. I felt the roughness of her thumbs stroking me with her fingers, comforting me while saying “Son, I forgive you. You don't have to punish yourself. You don't have to suffer anymore.”

I cried in her arms. Then, she very slowly faded away...

I know, this did not happen in real, but it was more than just a dream. She came back to life. Back to this world. For me... To free me... To redeem me… She had to come. That is what mothers do.

Next morning, I woke up. A thousand pounds lighter. Like a bird ready to fly, like a prisoner out of the prison after serving a long sentence, like someone just pulled off a big rock stuck in my heart, like someone was given a shelter in a stormy night.

I woke up, a different man. A free man. A man ready to live. I was forgiven. No more guilt. The stopped Time started to move again.

That night didn't just redeem me, but also gave me a goal- To help those suffering from cancer. I do not know how far I have succeeded, but I am on my way.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ambrose moved to Hong Kong 20 years ago and retired as the CEO of the same bank. He now works in the sphere of helping cancer patients.

After I read this story to him, he wiped his tears and held both of my hands and said, "Thank- you for writing this Pooja, I would pass on this story to my children and grandchildren".

P.S. Do not ask me how much I cried while writing his story

What do you think of 2019

2018-12-12T16:46:00.001+08:00

Can you believe 2018 is going to end? Didn't it just start and end, like the last 30 years of my life. How can it end without a notice?

In case you are also wondering (and worrying) like me, I have a better idea. Instead of worrying about 2018, why don't you welcome 2019.

I read this article somewhere, in which the author suggested asking yourself:
• What would you like to pay more attention to in 2019?
• What would you like to pay less attention to, and let go of?
• What’s one word that defines how you’d like to live in the new year?
• What are the top three things that you really value?
• What moments would you like to create in 2019?

And I forced myself to answer all the questions like a host was asking me on a TV show. And I found:
• I used my conditioned mind, not heart, while answering.
• I read the questions as “what I should” than “what I want”.
• I chose answers based upon what society expects from me- job, money, husband, kids, mature and realistic decisions.
• I almost separated ‘Me’ out of me.

In case, you are also doing the same mistake, and you too not have a goal, you can use mine: BE YOU.
Get a f*king tattoo of it so that you don't forget.

The Road Not Taken

2018-12-03T15:43:00.000+08:00

I live my alter-life with this old friend of mine in India.
Each time I think of her, I think- if all went as right as it should have, this is probably how I would have been. A well settled life with husband and kids and extended family and a house and a well paying job and ‘respect’ in the society a.k.a. my perfect life.

And this life that I have lived in real- this partner-less life, with no kids, solo travels, no accumulated wealth and no EMIs. This tangible life where I haven’t scored well in terms of a lot of societal standards a.k.a. my imperfect life.

And after 12 years I put my these ‘two lives’ on a table and compare. To see which one has more ‘market value’.

The more I analysed, I found that this lustrous and successful perfect life looks beautiful on the display, will I ever choose to live this imperfect life ever?

To my surprise, the answer has always been- yes.

Not because I lived this one, but because the perfect is too good to be true. Are people trulyhappy as they pretend to?

I am not justifying or trying to prove that by going against the stride I did a better job and everyone should do it. I am simply sharing that now the kind of relationship that I share with myself is the strongest. That I value what I have been through not just what survived. That the journey has been mostly painful and sometimes rewarding but I am so happy that I played the game even though I may not look like to have winning it, but hey who has ever come out of this game alive.

I do repent what I missed but I can’t trade it off with what I have been through. Never did I need to lie to myself. I afforded to live a life of truth. I never had a lamp post of my complaints. I became a risk taker in life probably because I had nothing to lose. The whole process of learning and exploring changed me. I gradually learnt how to take big decisions, and to take the responsibility if that failed. I don’t know if I’d have liked myself as much as I do now. I don’t know the cost of what I never achieved, but I value what I learnt in the process.

I probably would have never gone for meditation courses if I had toddlers to take care of, and even if did, I might not have been able to concentrate as I would just be physically present at the retreat. Or if I did, it wasn't just to escape from my nagging mother in law.

I’d not have risked myself to climb up those volcanoes, jump into those rivers, get hurt and not cry, drive alone hundreds of miles with bleeding legs, get tattoos (and still not cry) and do all those craziest things if I had a husband at home to take permission from.

I know in the end it is all a game of ‘what ifs’…
…but isn’t it exciting to sit on the end of the shore and watch how different the sun- sets look like from a shore which is not so crowded. Probably because you swam against the tide while everyone else decided to settle down at the first seen spot.

Most of the times I question myself what I achieved in life but I don't get a perceptible answer.

But when I ask myself, if given a chance, will I do it all over again, the cheeky inner voice says “Yes!”.

P.S. I have become the girl your parents warned you not hang out with.

Unfriend yourself

2018-08-31T11:34:00.004+08:00

Imagine:

• You are at a bar, and see this beautiful woman sitting on the opposite table. You love the way she is looking at you. You are about to make the first move and a friend suddenly appears from behind and reminds you that last time you did the same the woman said she had a boyfriend and how humiliated you felt. He asks you to be logical and calculate the probability of such a beautiful woman being single. You remain seated in your seat, finish your drink, watch another man approach her and leave the bar.

• You are sitting at your computer contemplating whether you should apply for this awesome job- a job that you’d love. You are about to click ‘submit’ and this friend suddenly appears from behind and reminds you that last time you did the same and the company ignored your email. They didn’t even call you for an interview. If you apply again, it is basically same story. You close the tab.

• You are at a networking event with all the reputed people of your industry. There is a random quiz. The host asks a question about American trade agreements with China. By chance, you just read that news today. You are about to raise your hand and guess who reminds you that last time you did the same, someone else gave a better answer and yours got ignored. Yes, same friend. You remain seated in your seat, check your phone and watch someone else give the same answer and clap.

I am sure by now you know who this friend is.
Yes, it is You.

It is You who judges the present based upon past events. You tells you that past events are a benchmark of how you lead your life. You says that your present lies in what You learnt in past. You tells you to not explore but assess every new opportunity with You’s past experience. You tells you that You knows everything and you should just listen. You asks you not to question and place your unfettered belief in his past.

But you know that the road to the future is not from past, it starts from present.

Don’t listen to You.

Unfriend You.

P.S. Don’t take it personally when people tell you to go and f*ck yourself.
P.P.S. Know what, actually do it.

Lust Stories

2018-08-07T17:08:00.000+08:00

Netflix understood that the top selling thing in the world is sex. But after critics have proved that it is overrated, they came up with a new idea.

So, how about ‘Lust”

I met this Indian guy who gave me a very apt analogy about the psyche of Indian society. He said, “It is like a spring, the more you suppress it, the higher it will bounce once released”. To me, that is the best way to describe the evolving Indian cinema at the moment.

Content of Lust Stories:

The first best thing about Lust Stories is its characters.

The second best thing is- its deep meaningful characters.

The third best thing is- you see yourself as a character in every story, and more so when the characters start taking off their layers and you get to see them up close.

I think we all are able to see ourselves naked on screen. Because we often fail to see how hollow we are.

You see yourself as the controlling husband, as the lover, as the cheating wife, as the curious teenager, as someone exploring his/her insecurities, as a non-satisfied partner- sexual and non- sexual.

I see myself in every story too.

I saw myself as the confused possessive woman who doesn’t know that she is too attached to something she knows is temporary and futile.

I saw myself in the unsatisfied housewife whose husband wanted a mother of kids instead of a wife.

I saw myself in the sexually unsatisfied newly wed woman, and the impotent husband at the same time.

I saw myself in the remorseful lover who was having an affair with a married woman.

I saw myself as the divorced woman who has made peace with the slut reputation because of her single-hood.

I saw myself in the character that is using people without realising that it is also getting used.

I saw myself as someone who has delayed every personal decision because I am too scared to lose than excited to achieve.

I saw myself as someone very professionally successful and very weak personally.

I saw myself gambling at lost wars.

I saw myself trying to fix everything by imagining that nothing went wrong in the first place.

I saw myself starting a loose thread that I can break as per my will and finding myself entangled in my own coils.

I saw myself at deciding to be strong and gradually forgetting that I had to be strong and then getting offended at being reminded to be strong.

I can write one million more points but I think this is enough to give the idea. But it doesn't have what you might be looking for.

P.S. Go watch Lust Stories not to watch lust, but to see yourself naked.

Top 20 ways to handle break up

2018-08-06T16:12:00.004+08:00

If there is anything that I can call myself an expert in (after cooking) it is ‘breaking up’. I have broken up more times than I have been in relationship with. I have broken up with people with whom I have not even been in relationship with. I break up with people I don’t even know.

While I am an expert, I believe it is easier said than done.

After realising cooking is really not my forte after even animals refused to eat food cooked by me, here is my guide for a healthy wealthy and wise break up. Cheers. Thank me later.

1. You must eat. You can’t cry empty stomach. (Make sure you don’t eat what you cooked.)

2. Realise that you managed to carry the relationship until today. And that if not a good cook, at least you were a good listener.

3. Download all the dating apps available in App Store. Meet the first guy you match with. On the same evening. Make sure you don’t spend even one evening alone for the next one month. Because obviously, you don’t want to face yourself. (And ask him what is he doing tomorrow).

4. Sleep with the guy you meet on the first date. That way, next morning you will have a bigger guilt to face with than the shit you were trying to deal with in the first place. Be smart. Choose to suffer smartly.

5. Go to your phone book. Select a random person. Call. Tell them how shitty they are. Empty yourself. Get rid of all your frustration and negativity. Finish the call. Block them. (Tip- any person except your boss; ex boss is fine).

6. Unblock your last ex. Call him and say that you are missing him. Behave like you never broke up. (Tip: create some random shit of some romantic past incident to make it sound authentic).

7. Change your profile photo. Put a sexy one- on Whatsapp and Facebook. That will attract potential candidates. Prepare yourself for the people with whom you are going to exchange numbers in the next 2-3 days. You must appear date-able. And, hot.

8. Learn photoshop.

9. Check stuff online. Sort by cost. Buy the costliest item you see. You need to realise money can buy love.

10. Wear all the dresses that you thought were too sexy for work. Call the IT guy at your desk and ask how to convert a .pdf to word.

11. Call your friends and tell them that they were right when they had warned you that you were dating an a**hole.

12. Go to your bestie and ask him if he has beers in the fridge. If not Stella, Corona is a must.

13. Recall the incidents like- the evening when you went clubbing with a group of friends and were ignoring the weirdo who was checking you out. Try to remember his name and text him that you have been thinking of him. Ask him out.

14. Treat yourself with Indian buffet and make sure you eat double of what you pay. That will definitely put you to sleep if not booze.

15. Don’t delete the number of the person you are breaking up with because you will need that during your next break up.

16. Hook up with the African guy in your language class. Hook ups are meaningless but so is life.

17. Date of break up: Plan diligently. You must not have any interview, exam, periods, a performance or anything similarly upcoming in the next 20 days.

18. Buy 1 kg chocolate. DS Groceries has the cheapest one in HK.

19. Tell Chatty Kathy at work that you broke up.

20. Do everything that your ex hated.

You are welcome.

God's Reply

2018-04-11T10:40:00.001+08:00

And this is the time to write a blog...

During my hostel days, I met this most amazing girl- Jassi. She is beautiful, sweet, cute, humorous, very grounded to earth, pleasant, nice, good person at heart and extremely original. You know people who have good vibes. On my first day in hostel, sitting amongst the snobby girls, she was the only one who spoke to an introvert like me who was silently sitting at the corner eating shit hostel food.

It has been around 10 years. I left the hostel, then India but on on-and-off mode, we were in touch. Rather she kept in touch with all the hostel girls. Even shittier ones (like me).

And it wasn't just me who liked Jassi. Everyone liked Jassi (truly, Jassi jaisi koi nahi). Her Facebook posts will have thousands of likes (I don't even have 20 real friends) and it was clear- she was a dear one.

He childhood photos on FB showed that she was born in a rich family. The family had servants, big house, and expensive cars in the background. While we all girls were busy saving money to make our ends meet in a city like Mumbai, she spent all her salary. She didn't have to save! What a blessing. She lived a life anyone would envy, but actually she was so sweet that none could envy her. That was the most beautiful thing about her.

In 2013 I went to Mumbai and met her. And she told me that she was seeing someone. My first thought was- the guy is too lucky. She got married to him a year later. Trust me, it was true love. I could see that. They looked like made for each other. Then she got an opportunity to work in UK and she told me that it was her husband who encouraged her to join. In my heart, I said, I knew you had got a great partner, you deserved that.

Nothing can be more perfect than her life. I can bet.

A few months ago I noticed that her Facebook account was deactivated. I tried reaching her on Whatsapp but that wasn't working too. So I reached out to her on LinkedIn and she gave me her new UK number. I got busy and forgot to text her.

Last evening, sitting in the library, I felt depressed about my life, and for some reason, just thought of her as to how some people are living a life of my dreams- professional and personal life balanced with a loving partner.

So I added the number and texted on her new Whatsapp "Hey Jassi, where have you been". She replied, “Pooja, probably you didn't know. I lost my husband in December. 3 days before our 2^nd anniversary”.

Sitting in the library, with books on globalization and rising economies on my table, I got tears in my eyes. I was shaken deep inside. She said, “How can God be so cruel. I know shitty people living a lovely life. How can this happen to me, Pooja. I still can’t believe that this has happened to me”.

I definitely know God has plans but I thought shit plans were for me only. She definitely didn't deserve this.

I am blank. I don't know.

Don’t know if my question of “why me” is answered in this way. I didn’t want this answer. If this is the answer, I don’t want to ask any questions ever.
I don't know if I should ask any questions. God's level of sarcasm is beyond my understanding.

Is the answer to "why me" is "everyone else is too"? Please, I don't don't want to hear that.
This is not my answer.

P.S. OK God, if not me, please reply Jassi.

(XVIII) Life is

2018-01-18T15:13:00.000+08:00

Life is
trying to sleep at night and trying to stay awake at work.

(XVII) Life is

2018-01-17T15:10:00.000+08:00

Life is
living to eat and avoiding to eat too much

(XV) Life is

2018-01-16T15:05:00.000+08:00

Life is
living on the beach and dreaming of mountains and then living on the mountains and missing the beach

(XIV) Life is

2018-01-15T15:03:00.000+08:00

Life is
having one feet on the accelerator and another on the brake all the time.

(XIII) Life is

2018-01-14T15:01:00.000+08:00

Life is
Taking the same bus, getting down at same stop, doing the same job every day for years and calling it a 'settled' life.

(XII) Life is

2018-01-13T14:59:00.000+08:00

Life is
a decision every morning whether to push or pull a door today

(XI) Life is

2018-01-12T10:52:00.002+08:00

Life is
Creativity entangled into routine

Thank you for your order (The Doctor)

2017-11-28T11:38:00.001+08:00

“Ouch”, he said, touching his abdomen. “Ah, hunger cramps”, he chuckled.

He picked up the lighter and lights the last cigarette he had and walks towards the balcony. The sky is raging grey. It seemed like a typhoon approaching but he won’t know. He hasn't stepped out of the house in months or watched TV or paid any bills or eaten anything in the last 3 days. There is no cash left.

He looks up in the sky, grey clouds rolling over the black sky. The tiny droplets hitting the window glass making strange images. He doesn't know if he is seeing theses images actually or is just a hallucination. He puffs little black clouds of smoke from his mouth and picks up his phone, and googles “online drug store” and selects Secobarbital.

“Do you have the prescription, sir?” the customer care executive calls to confirm.
“Yes, I am a doctor. I need it…..umm… for my patient”, he fumbles. “I have uploaded the signed prescription on your website”.
“Do you want to pay by credit card or cash on delivery, sir?”
“Ummmm… card”.
“Thank you for your order, sir. The medicine will be delivered by 12pm.”

He finishes his cigarette and feels the rain on his face. The rainwater wipes his tears, erasing the painful story of his life from his face.
He thinks of his mother and the day he graduated and how happy she was to see him as a doctor who would save lives.
And, there he was the one, planning to take one, with a suicide note on his table and a death drug on the way. . .

P.S. Wrote this story upon given a prompt of "Thank you for your order". More stories to follow.

Did you think I won’t know”

2017-11-27T11:30:00.000+08:00

I don't know why I am writing this, but then why not. You must count each time life blesses you.

I was 13 years old when one day I was lying in bed down with menstruation pain. Mom had told me that “periods” is something that a girl should never tell anyone. I didn't tell anyone- not even grandma, or may be I was shy.

That day, seeing me groaning in pain, grandma came and stroked my head and massaged me until my pain was relieved.
And then, covering my shoulders with the quilt she said, “Did you think I won’t know?” Hiding my face, I cried out of love.

Yesterday, after 20 years, I was lying down, crying in the same pain. My flat-mate heard my groans and helped me.

Somewhere in the heavens, an old soul cried out of joy, whispering “Did you think I won’t know?”

15 Things I Learnt by Travelling Alone

2017-11-08T16:02:00.000+08:00

In the last 3 months I have traveled more than 32000 km.
“Wanderlust”, “Globetrotter” and “Backpacker” and other similar terms have taken over the internet. Like a community of people who are not happy with their lives and looking for something different. I am not too sure if I am one of them. But I do believe that unless you go through a tearing process of transformation, nothing changes.

I have been on similar journeys. But there is a different experience when you travel alone. More than just travelling I feel it is more of talking to self and this quality 'Me time' answers a lot of decade long questions.

Here are the 10 things I have learnt by travelling alone:

1. I got to see inside as much as I saw outside

2. I found the best travelling partner who thinks, feels and enjoys everything I do- myself

3. I became a better decision maker and a planner and more brave at heart

4. I met the most creative person in this world- Mother Nature

5. I became a better listener. I can hear myself say and have learnt to follow my heart.

6. I saw my limits expanding everyday- at staying hungry/thirsty, walking more than 20km a day, carrying my own luggage and being a risk taker.

7. Fear has limits and I defined them.

8. It is possible to live and reach places without internet.

9. Journey is not journey, journey is the destination.

10. I learnt to fly without wings

11. I am not a very bad photographer .

12. Your gut is your GPS. Follow it

13. Gives you an instant review of what you thought about a place and what you actually found

14. Helps you learn new cultures and human nature outside your comfort zone

15. I learnt the difference between collection and accumulation.

P.S. All these photos are mine.

The girl with one backpack and a passport

2017-08-31T16:08:00.000+08:00

I met an American girl during my trip to Japan. She had been travelling around for the last 4 years. Indeed her American passport made her life easier but wen I asked her how she decided ‘where next’, she said: I randomly get down at the stations and then explore the area around. This sounded dumb but exciting at the same time…playing with uncertainties. She travelled all across Europe and now was in Asia for over 2 years now.

My first impression about such people generally was: Dude, you are running away from their life.
And, after running away from myself for years, now I can definitely say that the only way to find yourself is when you allow yourself to get lost in the first place.

There are different things that motivate people. Some people are motivated by beauty- of nature, of beings; to some, cultures provides the inspiration and to many, money.
I think I have lived across a lot of these phases, after I realized that the recurring theme of my life has been: “Curiosity”.

Curiosity to do things I have never done, to see how things work, to explore what lies on the other side of the river and curiosity to see if I’ll be curious forever.

Curiosity keeps me going. Ask yourself- what keeps you going? And, explore it in all layers.
Now, when I am 30+ and less greedy and more confident in my skin than I have ever been, the thought that half of my live is actually over (Life expectancy of an Indian female is 68.35 years) urges me to make the most out of it. Curiosity + less time available= More curiosity.

One of the biggest fallacies I realized about life is about a beautifully (peacefully) planned and lived life. I feel predictability is a silent killer. I always thought I loved perfect plans. And look at my life: Life made sure I never fall into a trap of my own plans so kept blasting it in weirder ways.
In a few years time, I’ll be 40 – that used to be my benchmark for calling somebody ‘old’, and I’ll reach that that before I know.

Unless I put myself out into the dark, I am not going to see any supernova. Until I am in the usual comfort that I am used to be in I’ll not see what lies beyond.

So, here is my challenge: I will see half of the world that God has created before I turn 40.

Caveat being- not that I'll die or get arrested, but that the world I wish to see will not last forever.
I want to see the world before countries destroy each other. The notorious dictators and evil leaders are on their spree to destroy histories. And, am not too hopeful.
Look at what they did to Damascus/ Aleppo. Can I think of going to Baghdad now? All those stories about Kabul have been buried forever now.

So, I need to hurry up- I don't have forever, and the world won’t last as long as we presume it to be.
And the challenge for you is: find out- what moves you, what shakes you and what keeps you going.
(Believe me, you’ll get three answers. Feel free to share)