Her Adventures with Mismatched Socks

She was meticulous, organised and obsessive about perfection. She was diagnosed by her friends as a specimen with a mild case of OCD. She refused and claimed to be healthily obsessed. It was just her fond love for symmetry and unblemished perfection.

Accepting the unsymetry wasn’t tough, but it made her nervous. One day, she decided to brave it, and she wore two different socks to work. Grey on the left and black on the right. Since she wore ballerinas, they were pretty much visible. 

She glanced at her feet every now and then, but then the day went by without anyone pointing her flaw out. Rather, no one noticed it at all. There was this vague feeling in her head of being watched, scrutinized and judged for her mismatched pair, when everyone around her were busy feeling the same about their mismatch and living in their own heads.

It was impossible for her not to think of the mismatched pair the entire day, but it was not that difficult to accept the mismatch either. It was as simple as that. Acceptance.

She chased the perfect symmetry in life so furiously, that she had missed seeing the beauty in the other powerful but ignored things. Like: Her mother’s love. Her mother silently listening to things she wasn’t speaking out loud. Her accomplishments. Her aging parents. Her own self.

If accepting this unsymmetrical mismatch could, if not silence, tone down the restless voice in her head and let her get going the entire day, why not the same with the mismatched unsymetry in herself?

This was her first step towards being a little adventurous, in her own little way.


That One Hug

They stood on the porch at four hours past midnight, as their paths awaited to be diverged again. Their adventure had come to an end. With time, the familiarity that the distance had deprived them of, was discovered in an unknown land. With time, the comfort of being themselves with each other had fallen in comfortably like that one missing puzzle of a jigsaw.

When it was time to say their goodbyes, he held his hand forward while she glared at his formality. She opened her arms timidly and he took a step forward and gave her a hug. This was not a drunken state of mind hug. This was a conscious hug. And his hug conveyed everything that maybe his words couldn’t for the last three years of knowing each other over long distance.

That one hug, opened up a box of suppressed emotions in her. But she hid her face in the dark as she saw him sit in the car and head towards the airport. She walked away towards the elevator before he could see her again from his car.

But that one hug…

The pretense icicles in her heart had melted. There was acceptance of deep attachment to another human being. She was overwhelmed and surprised with the enormity of the feelings she had for him.

She held back the dry tears that threatened to break from her eyes. She thought maybe sleep will make it easy to bear. Maybe sleep will make the ‘momentary’ feeling wash away, she thought. She went and slept on his freshly made bed.

The morning after dark was cloudy with light drizzles. The enormity of being able to feel so deeply had still successfully caught on with her as she boarded her cab towards the airport. She confided in her friend, who sat next to her with her arms on her shoulder, as she began to understand that she was simply missing him. She had gotten used to the unasked assurance from him. The unasked fulfilled promise of being by her side, no matter how, when she needed him the most. She had gotten used to his presence around her during their adventure together. As her friend held her, she let go of her pride and felt hot tears flow freely from her eyes.

It was finally the acceptance of a beautiful bond that they shared – friendship. It was a pure, unadulterated, unselfish, maybe a little selfish, friendship. It was the acceptance of letting go of her controlled boundaries and acknowledge the special place he held in her life. It was this acceptance that made her determine to make an attempt to show her emotions like he did with her all the time.

To be honest, she had taken a while to realize the emotions of his hug. Once the feeling of his arms around her shoulders was gone, only thing that remained was the warmth that he had left behind. Maybe this was their last goodbye after all.

My Mistakes

My mistakes: They are like invisible chokers around my neck. Gently kissing my neck – with a pressure just enough to remind me of the horrors that followed after all my mistakes. They act like a gentle reminder, like the ghosts of my past, constantly hovering over my future, reminding me of every drastic risk I had taken.

The choker. It is constantly on my mind. I find my hand almost reaching my neck every time I think about it. I imagine it to be made of cold white steel with a fiery red ruby in the center. The ruby holds the rage, the shame, the penitence and some learning. Feel the cold steel, tighten its grip around my neck, making me gasp for my life, every time I am close to making same mistake. Ringing a faint and familiar taunting words in my ears, “Only fools make the same mistake twice.”

I am not sure if I’m imprisoned in the hands of fear. I am not sure if I doubt my decisions, because of one big mistake. I am not sure if it is killing my essence slowly.

But I am glad of that invisible choker around my neck. It keeps me in check. It lets me be wild but not reckless. It lets me be sad but not depressed. It lets me forgive myself, but not forget.

It binds me, but it also helps me evolve.

And sometimes, I am wildly proud of that choker around my neck.

My Lessons From Today

Never be afraid to ask. Only when I ask is when I get all the answers and with the answers I learn something new. Leave no room for assumptions.

To ask questions, I learned to leave my ego behind, to not be afraid to show that I do not know something and finally to accept that I am at times ignorant and need help to understand. Only when I accepted all those things, I got more knowledge. I became a bit wiser than before.

This is what I must do:

  1. Ask when I do not know. 
  2. Let my ego behind, accept and not be afraid to ask. 
  3. Listen to them speak. 
  4. Learn and grow. 

I keep wondering, how many deaths in my family and in my friend’s family should I see before I finally understand that life is not permanent. Only death is.

Maybe, I already have understood it, else this reasoning or this understanding wouldn’t be there. I must value time more than I do already. My time. My time with my loved ones. The time that my loved ones share with me.

I must remember: Only and only death is permanent. Nothing else.

Maybe, my dear reader, you will listen and learn from my mistakes as well. Teach me as well, it will help me when I am lost.

Let us learn and grow together. 🙂

Mr Grey Does It, Yet Again

Ordinary. That’s how he made me feel : just like everyone else.

Stirring a powerful rage in me which was mistook as “puppy love” by everyone else. I would say, that didn’t bother me. Yet.

What bothered the bruised self ego is its own pride for being forced to swallow the apparent hard truth which is applicable to everybody as per the human psychology: The truth behind every action. The hidden motives which I refused to accept. Especially the motives on social forums, motives to feed my necessary narcissism/self pride, whatever you may wish to call it. But this was not it. Though my points were blatantly made void, this wasn’t what had ruffled my just calmed feathers.

No, he doesn’t know how much he has affected me.

He made me question my pursuit of truth – If my love for truth is pure or is it really just a lustful chase to feel and enjoy the idea of not being regular. He blatantly voided my stubborn argument that some of my public actions had no motives which humans normally thrive on. My reluctance to accept the motives as everyone else over his equally stubborn arguments, made me doubt myself. I asked myself, “Why am I denying this so violently? Why am I explaining myself this explicitly? Why am I taking up challenges to void my past actions? Why?” I wonder in this self doubt, was this an argument with my subconscious? Am I lying to myself, pushing myself in denial till it ceases to be the truth? Being a double standard? Because if there were truth in all my statements, would I feel the need to go out of my way and explain myself?

Am I not paying attention enough? Not observing enough?

This hurts my pride. This makes me angry.

I lie, yes, whenever necessary. I am not a saint. But his arguments made me question if I’m lying to myself. If yes, it would be a catastrophe. And that’s how accepting his arguments made me feel ordinary. Like being some person with just a face.

This shakes my loyalty towards obsession of the truth. A moment of self doubt.

Let me take a deep breath. Let me sooth this wounded beast first.

Better now.

If he was right about my motives behind particular actions in argument,  I have no interest to question his motives right now. But my interest is on as to why did he consciously provoke something in me which he felt I was ignoring urging me to address it?

How much denial have I buried?

I love truth. I accept to embrace it. And I must start  so by putting an end to lying to self or denials as it is called. I will stand up to my truth and not doubt it. Doubting my truth is doubting myself. Any fingers raised at it next time, will be slapped back with raw truth. Truth is never to be doubted.

He provoked all this.

He did it, yet again.

This time, keeping my pride aside, I almost welcomed it.

Bright Red Flaring Nose Alert

Struggling to find a healthy channel to tunnel all the unbearable rage spitting out of my clenched jaws. Over all those unanswered messages, the failed tests, the audacity of my own hormones for compelling my own body to disobey me.. Also such unbearable intolerance to humanity’s stupidness at times. It is overwhelming.

This rage heightens my obsession with all the suppressed obsession. Especially my insatiable obsession with the truth. The unbearable desire to break it to people without giving a damn to their feelings, because I feel liberated and assume that they would too, eventually. But not all are evolved. Some like to dwell in their own chimera.

Such coldness cannot exist in my bones for the sake of humanity. But this temptation is too hard to resist. Pure unadulterated truth just spills out unfiltered at my unprepared company’s ears, shaking their core and my sense of existence. I must say, it sounds very beautiful when it escapes my lips with such ease that it seems to simplify things and present them to my naked soul as is. I am sure my company wouldn’t appreciate it the way I do. But at that moment, I effing don’t care. I am comfortable in my skin and pure. At that moment, I do not want to understand the complexity of human need of reassurance. Because, at that moment I’m stripped off all the false hopes and reassurance with the naked truth simply confronting me pointedly in my face. I see no need to deny people of that either, whether they want it or not.

I do agree, many including me at times need the fake assurance to keep the hope alive and keep feeling alright. But at what expense? Isn’t it better to accept what is as is and hunt for the next best thing? We are anyways dying slowly everyday so why dwell? That makes me cold and heartless, so be it.

This is what people would call as the “demon” in me. It will be called a demon by them because usually the misunderstood/difficult  side would be easy to tag as “the evil”. What is evil anyways? Isn’t ignorance and oblivion evil that way? Wouldn’t it be contradicting on humanity’s part to call the truth as evil? Don’t many people demand for truth at times?

Truth. At times a welcome blow that knocks the wind out of my lungs, making me more alive than ever, even when I will be gasping for my breath. An epitome of liberation. An epitome of true form of a person, mask-less, unfiltered and pure. It brings destruction, but with the peace it has to offer. Nothing else matters.

But, once the moment of crazed obsessive passion ceases, my eyes sees the destruction my uncontrolled tongue has left behind. Breaking some people and pushing them deeper in their own oblivion. But does it really matter? Isn’t truth more satisfying? Once they open their eyes and embrace the truth won’t it be more liberating? I sound heartless. Maybe I am.

But, I understand there are norms of society I must follow. I must lie in order to let the faith in humanity not cease. I must be conscious and not let anyone break because of my actions. Even in the course of me being heartless, I must understand my obsession isn’t theirs. Truth doesn’t matter to all, but yet it is demanded with such elan.

Such irony. Such a paradox. Such a waste.

If only I could tame my obsession with truth and actually want to tame it along with my imprudence and my tongue lash. Till then, oh what the hell, I may as well enjoy it. At whatever cost may be.

My Nagging Obsessions

This is one of those times when I want something, I have to have it. And the want becomes so aggressive that it borders to a nagging obsession. There is no rhyme or reason to why I want it. There is only one thing – I want it and it has to be mine.

An irritating trait.

So irritating that it goes beyond the “rational” logic of “What is yours will be yours”. That rational sounds more of a consolation. I do not want to wait for it to happen.  I am not that bold either. But all I simply know is I want it and make it mine.

Patience is a virtue they say. But when running out of time, what is patience? “It will eventually come to you if it has to be yours”, they say. An extension to that “rational” consolation. And I continue to grow more impatient by the end of the day.

There will be a false pretense and it all ends with a lie – it is not so significant. I do not know why is this that I want that I’ll wait, figure things out more, analyze more, ignore my emotions and see where it goes. It’s just an emotion after all.

Jibber jabber.

Few Brilliant Things

A Book Store

It’s heaven on earth. As soon as I step into the store, everything is all right again. The more I look at the books, flipping the pages until I breathe in the scent of the pages; the more I can feel my worries ebbing out of me. Everything is non-existent, but the beautiful words spinning fantasies and adventures, luring me to get lost into. As I run my fingers on the spines of the books, I wonder which book awaits to mould me into something new. And before I know it, there will be a bunch of books cradling in my arms. And just like that the cashier will be swiping my card with a smile, beeping in the numbers waiting till I hear “tiding”on my phone. And I will be smiling back, signing the slip, opening the door and walking back with my guilt free indulgence till I see another glass door. And the books will be lovingly inviting me in.


They are the biggest risk takers I have ever seen. A business risk seems nothing when you see them taking responsibility of saving lives. Breathing into us some air of relief when there is pain. When the wiring of our senses snap, they will all be working as a team, hollering the alchemic relief to make us sane. They beauty of doctors is, they do not go helping people and saving their lives because it is their jobs. They do it, because they want to. And when they genuinely care you feel safe.

A Support

Every mood is infectious. And thus, knowingly or unknowingly our spirits either rise or fall, regardless of our own moods. It is easy to walk away, to stay away from the negativity. It is tough to stay back and give a helping hand to a “friend” when personal good being is in consideration. But, there will be one support who will still stay back and dive in and pull the person out of his misery. Or be the much needed silent support till the pain passes by. This person might be you, letting your “friend” know that he/she is not abandoned and alone. There is support. This is friendship.

A migraine postdrome.

When I realized what I was missing

It is great to be in love again. I can sleep comfortably in your arms, listening to your stories at night.
It is great to know what I love to do. I enjoy every second with it, doing it, passionately.
It is brilliant how “loving” things gives some meaning to my actions.
Other than cynicism. Blunt sarcasm. It does.

Random thought again:
Does explaining another human of my actions, my words, my raw emotions, deprive those humans from thinking at all?
Does explaining everything and anything to someone, deprive them from thinking?

Why don’t they think?
I wonder, what runs in people’s mind when they don’t think about things that should matter.
I wonder, how does an empty silent mind would feel like.
I wonder, how people enjoy ignorance most of the time.
I wonder, how do people not enjoy discovering life. Anything about it.

What are you thinking?

 I, of New York. 🙂

Random Thoughts of an Exhausted Mind

There is a difference. Exhausted mind. Exhausted body.

 I should note down my thoughts. I have stopped doing that. The randomness of my thoughts is surprising me. Sometimes they are so beautiful and so fast, that it seems waste few hours later when I can’t even remember what I was thinking about.

 I hate the beginnings. I hate goodbyes. In between is the best time in any relation.

Today while walking down the road, facing the wind trying to blow me away and the vehicles that loved my legs, I realized what my dream is, is nothing but my passion. I wouldn’t know how passionate I am about my dream if I don’t even taste it. Let me lick it, let it tingle my tongue. Then there will be a big bite, the tingle will linger forever. That is my probability 1.
1 for hope
0 for failure
One risk I’ve to take.
Fear of failure, I’ve to face.

I love infinity.
I love numbers.
I love metaphors.
I love words.
I love puns.
I love oxymoron.
I love the word free.
I love freedom.
I love symmetry.
I love silence.
I love making people uncomfortable. Nice people.
I love sound. I love sight.
I love senses.
I love Batman.
I love Sherlock Holmes.
I love so many things.

Squirm sounds like worm.
Squeeze sounds squeeezy.

Secrets are beautiful. A hint about it and it creates an air of mystery. Decipher it. Find out what is hidden beneath all those lines.

The pursuit of perfect happiness. With a person. With self. One ignorable flaw discovered and it breaks the  beauty of perception of what seems to be perfect. For a person obsessed with perfection and only perfection it is tough to settle for anything. Just anything. A reminder to self: that flaw is the path to perfection. Perfection is untouchable-ly near.
Yea I created that word.

Secrets are intertwined with truth and lies. That makes it even more mysterious. How much does truth matter? How much does a lie matter? To keep a person motivated when she’s dying, tell her she is not dying? Lie. How much did it help her when she eventually heard what is happening to her? Truth eventually finds its way. Digs and digs and slaps you in your face.

How much can another human be trusted?

Sometimes it is fun to watch other person underestimate me. I like watching them get uncomfortable again when I decide to show how ignorant they are.

Being in control. At times it feels so powerful. Knowing when to be in control. Even more powerful.
I like the power.

Life is all about choices. Everything is about choices.
I chose to share my randomness with you today.

Why were prime number called as prime numbers? Who made all those rules about numbers?
Prime numbers are special. Just special. I am going to use them and make my secrets even more difficult for you to dig.

Decipher me.
I dare you.

It is so easy to fall in love with fictional characters.
It is so easy to fall in love with a voice of a face I have never seen.

The word beautiful is itself so beautiful.
Like the word free.

I should leave. I’ve to get stressed at office tomorrow, again.
I’m a grown up now. I work.