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.
I’ve barely managed to get a structured thought out on the screen recently. I’ve managed to squeeze out a few captions on Instagram, but most of them were prompts from pictures I had clicked randomly. There’s not much I want to tell the world anymore because I don’t think it adds any value to anyone’s life if all I do is talk about myself. Does it? I don’t know...
Shounen manga is a Japanese comic, for the lack of a better word, usually aimed at young boys. These are famous for their obnoxiously loud characters who speak their hearts out without thinking.
I had just come back from Telangana. Volunteering was over. The gap year had resumed, and I was watching Youtube. “Self-discipline is freedom… from yourself” was the title of one of the videos in my Youtube recommends. It was at this point that I had watched Youtube for four hours or so. I wasn’t doing it actively or consciously. I didn’t watch that video. I’m...
I’m done with college. I’m also back to my hometown. As I woke up late, after an unplanned ten-hour sleep, there were two things going on in my head. First, a plethora of guilt. Second, the question that the guilt kept asking me, “what now?”