There’s a train track roughly a kilometre from my new place. It’s close enough for it to be downright annoying. It was exactly that when I first got here. That was roughly three weeks ago. It has come to my realisation that the train doesn’t bother me anymore. I mean, it does get me riled up every time I hear that honking and rattling approaching from far away but when compared to how it was when...
It was the 31st of December. I was in a bar. My friends sat all around me on what was a table overflowing with pints of beer. It was a good evening, and I was a little tense because of something at the bank. I had just received the Indian Blogger Award though so life wasn’t as bad. It was a classic case of general experience, and the new year was right around the corner. This was last...
Winter has settled in, and it is getting harder to get out of the bed in the morning. I guess that could explain why the morning workouts are marked “done” at ten in the morning instead of eight lately. I think it is fine as long as it’s getting done.
A song plays in the background as it reminds me of Love. Love, however, left a while ago. Love left as quickly as it entered the room. Separation, however, stayed.
I’ve been on the road for roughly four weeks now, and I’ve learned just one little thing. Travelling, especially solo, is like playing a role-playing game. You have a backpack with limited space, an initial inventory of items, a couple of quests, and so on.
When I packed my bag for Bangalore almost two weeks ago, I put a T-shirt too many in it. There are reasons I didn’t want to be in my hometown. At that moment, the reasons felt overwhelming. So, I put my entire solid-tee-ensemble in my slightly smaller backpack.
The bus had just started to cross Gurgaon. I sat on a seat by the window near the front exit of the bus. The harsh sunlight coming in through the window didn’t add to the comfort. The conductor stood near the door wearing a well-worn flat cap, his shaved head and the soft stubble of white hair showed peeked right below the side. His face was covered in a stubble too. Traffic made the bus slow...
We’re all stories. We’re all the things we tell others. But, we’re also the things we leave out. I’ve learned that recently. I feel that is the problem when you think and believe people are the stories they tell.
I have a confession to make. I disappeared for four days last month. I’d wanted to do that for a while, and so, I did it. I finally up and left, turned all internet access off, made myself unreachable, and escaped into the hills.
I guess I am too young to say that life is overwhelming, but I’ll say it anyway. I, also accept that I am too privileged to say the same. It is arrogant on my part to claim I know what I’m doing when I write phoney posts on self-discipline or when I give disguised tutorials on how to live life.