New Beginnings

Looking at the frequency of the me-notepad files in the past 3 years, I realised how much I have changed. I got into an intense relationship, indulged myself thoroughly in expressing every poetic feeling with flowery sentences, transporting myself to unfamiliar worlds like the magnificent foggy roads of Delhi in winters (Yes, I can make the most ordinary of places rosy and dreamy).

As time passed, as the pain set in, as the conflict set in, I bottled my feelings in a glass container. I could look through and know they existed, I was almost scared to look for too long. It wasn't long, before I compressed them. Adiabatically at that. To keep my real-life sanity intact. To not get ahead of myself. After a great ordeal of patching up and finding pieces of me that were lost in transit, in this (I call it) at-times-miserable-but-mostly-immeasurably-happy journey, I am back! Back to cherishing lush green ivies draped on roadside trees towering unusually high, and sun showers highlighting patches of metallic mundane freeways, and writing mellifluous sentences about them :) Instead of being pre-occupied by the same drivel.

So, the mostly-immeasurably-happy journey. I was insecure, possessive, inane (in my defense, if you can't take the worst of me, then forget relishing the best). I was, simply, in love.

But I know, I did it all right.

I experienced all the magical moments life bestows upon us, besides, the uncanny irony that it is rather well-known for.

-Sitting across the table from that special person, listening to the jabber in the group and just admiring the non-sense with puppy-eyed admiration.
-Giving someone the privilege of your undivided attention and tender loving care.
-Standing at the door after he left and staring into the distance till he turned into a tiny fading speck.
-Having him admire all the idiosyncrasies you admire about yourself; be it singing halcyon one-liner songs with the sweetness of a granma's lullaby, while sitting on a lawn under the blanket of midnight's stars or in the privacy of an unlit room.
-or, Painting cartoons like drawing class exercises of primary school instead of complex recurring dreams that are begging to be portrayed and released to life.

Yes, pure indulgence.


I have finally come to the fine realisation that what matters is I have grown.
I know myself more. I understand myself better than ever and I can talk with a surreal assertion about what I want in life and that definitely contributes (one last time) to the immeasurably-happy factor.