The Modern Fable

When you look back, you remember the moments you felt deeply. Not those moments when you were at an extreme end of a mood swing, but when your emotions held gravity because you recognized something in your life worth noticing. These moments may be felt consciously, like the time when I saw all my family members dancing to weird Bollywood songs I don't even remember and thought that I would miss this when eventually I packed my bags to a college I hadn't decided yet. When I hugged my brother close on his 22nd birthday, hoping that the smell of his hair might soften the reconciliation I'd have to give myself when I left town the next day. It is at these moments that we feel the urge to hold these precious moments close because we're scared of letting them go, filled with fear of losing this wholeheartedness. It is at these moments that I fully experience what Brene Brown meant when she said that joy is the most vulnerable of all emotions. We're scared to feel it, but ...

I have faced isolation from friends and family, lack of financial stability and physical freedom, emotional abuse, and clinical depression. (I am still in the middle of some of these problems) I have given up on many good ideas and projects, and haven't found a strict definition of a career to align myself with.  I thought that this made me different, that this defined how much I could achieve in life because they somehow scarred me. And I won't lie: they have scarred me. I have trust and self-esteem issues. But the key thing is that I am not alone and I can use my experience to help others, even by talking about these problems and creating a safe space for them. I define myself as a problem-solver and that has been the key to deciding which projects I enjoy, and because of these experiences, I am in a unique position to empathize with those who have faced similar problems and use that emotional intelligence of what it means to go through it and develop solutions. These solutio...

The stories we tell ourselves, how they fuel shame, and the impact they have We are creatures of habit, and our thinking habits form mindsets. Our mindsets, more or less, dictate how we approach our life. Lately, I have been exploring my mindsets and their impact on me. Earlier this year, I struggled with severe clinical depression, and taking a gap year to spend some time with myself has helped me explore the mindsets that brought me to this point. And I realized something. The stories I told myself had the biggest impact on how I viewed myself, how I interacted with others, and the decisions I made. In 2021, as the pandemic was raging, my family was struggling emotionally because of the financial setbacks we had faced. Amongst other problems, as mid-year approached I would wake up filled with anxiety that would get aggravated when I saw the date. You see, when the year started I had an intention of starting projects that I could include in my college application but months passed, an...

Instead of asking, 'Have I worked hard enough to rest?' ask, 'Have I rested enough to do my most meaningful work?'  Nicole Jane Hobbs This quote changed how I viewed rest. I used to bargain how much rest I deserved based on the quantity of work I had done. But after giving it my all in one project, I find myself needing a long rest to recuperate. Oftentimes, I feel like I need more rest than the little window I had allotted myself. And there is a reason for pushing myself back on the track again. Piling messages, pending projects, upcoming deadlines, and disturbing realities to escape. But I have learned that the outside world won't stop because I need it to slow down. I will have to step back. This means drawing some boundaries: not scrolling LinkedIn in my free time and saying no to a couple of projects I don't think I have the mental capacity to deal with anymore. Making boundaries is still quite tricky for me though. If I say no to this project, will I regre...

I will be honest. I used to despise this blog. Why, you might ask? Or, you might not but I will still answer as that is what this post is about. I wrote this blog amidst the beginning of a dark time in my life, where I was in my head more often than not, trying to find ways to move on towards my definition of success. I was lost, anxiety-ridden, and filled with guilt over my perceived mistakes. It was also a very isolating period in my life, where I was slowly uncovering my values but no one was there to discuss them with, to acknowledge my efforts, or to nudge me in the right direction. I have since learned to be there for myself when no one else is, but it can still be quite isolating. I was on a quest to do something great, but I was struggling to commit to something, anything. I eventually found a way to bring my ideas to reality through TKS, but that came way later in September 2022. Right now, we are talking about the latter half of 2021, when I had recently started this blog....

There is a ticking clock in the back of my mind, taking away my peace, pushing me to strive. Piling expectations to exceed, and messages to read. Sometimes, I feel I am a puppet, getting pulled by threads. But even when I stretch and stretch, the pile still remains, mocking me with its presence, reminding me of my mistakes. Oh, I know what you must say, build better boundaries. But boundaries can keep other people out, how will they keep me in?

Emptiness frees up space, to push away the remorse I’ve been clinging to, to break away, the cycles of mind-numbing thoughts I have been going through, to pause the pattern I have immersed myself in to escape the reflection that has been due. Emptiness takes up place, where old wounds festered, where the pressure to keep up pressed further. It takes its presence within, when you finally have the courage or the lack of iron-fisted will, to no longer keep pushing on, to let go of the forces dragging you on. Emptiness follows letting myself go. But with the void comes distant hope, for the bondages that may eventually fill it, who knows? Emptiness makes space for wind to blow and sunlight to show. It may take away the heavy-hearted guilt, and even the bubbling excitement, but the lack of stimuli, gives peace to the tired old soul, and shelter to rest. Until, the war is back on.

 I hoped that the brightness of your smile, would chase away the darkness surrounding me. But it was a foolish hope and an even more foolish love to fill my void with your soul. You tell me of your mischiefs, your adventures and the girls who once loved you like I do right now. I will soon be replaced, but I’ll always remember you as someone who saw me. Someone with whom I could let go a part of me unknown to many, even counting me. You tell me stories, while I share my feelings, for apart from my emotions of being lonely, and disconnected, I have nothing to reveal. What do you want me to say? That I find my existence bleak? But how would that make for a great dinner story? You think I worry for naught, but I have lost more things than I ever had, like the time I lost you, when I shared too much that went on in my mind. So we stay together with you enjoying life and me enjoying the sight because it’s the closest I have been to happiness of my own....

 I dance around your demands, hoping to squeeze in my own wants, for I know if I breach your lines, you’ll threaten me with your trusty old tactics, hoping to take away the means, with which I build my life. Whether these threats are empty, only time will tell. But my mind is too tired to calculate the next move which shall soothe you, so let me break the paradigm. Let me test my own willpower, while you retreat to your set of laid-out commands. Let me test my own freedom, question the narrative of the outside world shunning me. Let me build my own world, outside the walls you have built for me. I have your unwavering support one day, the next, it is gone. Well, I’ll have to manage without it, so it seems from now on. Let me test if my love, can fill where yours took hold. It might not fill the void, but it will help me go on. On and on, until you are just a story A story that my mind replays, when it winds up the good, old memories. Well, stories can c...

I have struggled to find a home where I could rest. All I could find were walls,  that held the promise to hold me, shelter me,  but all they did was contain me. The cleanness of the walls barely became a canvas of my morphing anxieties. Their protection against the outside clamor, brought no peace. I couldn’t build a home inside the people I had the blissful chance of being close with, for they were forever changing, as if colors of varying dyes were being added, in the water their vessel contained, predictable over what color might form next but changing nevertheless. I couldn’t build a home that was bound to be broken for I might not have the strength to piece it back together. I have since found a home in books, where people share their life experiences behind the veil of a persona, a fictitious character, which is as real as all our memories and thoughts, for the person who reads them. People may change, but the books they have written would remain ...

I scroll through people. People with opinions, with faith and wisdom, with songs and limericks. Yet no matter how beautiful, bold and profound they may be, they don’t fulfill my need for connection.

Detached from the words we write, Personas separate from personalities. Experiences morphed into facts, they form our shared, disconnected reality. Boxed into pixels on a screen, powered by a freedom of speech. Tweets, captions, unread messages, and catchy headlines, rule the unruly mind. The foreground becomes a blur, yet the digital wallpaper becomes crystal clear.

//This is one of the poems I found from the year 2021, while gathering my writing. I decided to post them to document my growth. What can I say? I know enough, to not want to know more.

//This is one of the poems I found from the year 2021, while gathering my writing. I decided to post them to document my growth. Adults live more in imagination, than children do. The children overcome their beliefs and dreams, All in due time. But adults continue to live, under imaginary fears and responsibilities. Believing everything to be an imposition, when they are truly free to leave,

//This is one of the poems I found from the year 2021, while gathering my writing. I decided to post them to document my growth. In matters of the heart, There is no pretense, Only truth. The truths do not come to the wise, in search of them. But reveal itself to those, who have been broken enough, to not put up a show anymore. Neither to the world nor to themselves.