Fat men, high chairs,

Big enough to fit them and their self-conceit.

Some women among them, with clouded judgement,

Represent women, but somehow the feminism within them missing.

…

Huge words, false promises

That we almost believe.

Sentences that make no sense, have no logic behind them,

Masked by the pretence, ‘Victory is achieved!’

…

Quirky logos, branding much

The concept of serving this country.

Bright colours, catchy slogans

That turn the heads of the naïve, indubitably.

…

Numerous groups, one against the other

No one ready, to rule together.

Strong opinions, big decisions

Taken for the people, but actually benefit those cats of Cheshire.

…

Fat men, in high chairs

Wearing clothes of gold and silver,

Yet we elect them, praise them, believe in them,

For them to cut the rules of the Book into slivers.

I was such a fiery mouthy little bitch back then lmao! But how is this still relevant today?!

Anyway, we’re finally at the end of my #NaPoWriMo series, where I dabbled unsuccessfully in poetry. However, you must come back for more, because up next is going to be my Character Sketch project, where I dedicated an essay to people I was close with, or felt deeply about, in my life back then. You know, maybe I’ll continue this series, and write about the new people I’ve met since then…

Until then, I hope you keep reading…

… the blue diary xx

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You and me

We stay together,

Most of the time.

In each other’s arms

We find solace.

…

You and me

We help each other grow,

Learn,

Connect,

Think,

Feel,

Dream.

I look into your eyes

And you look into mine,

And read all that’s there within.

…

You and me

Together, we’re strong

And only while being together

We can communicate with others

But when left alone

We experience anxiety.

It’s like we’re made for each other.

…

But that’d be too much to say,

Too much to expect,

Because

For them, you’re just an inanimate object after all.

A large screen, which operates through the touch of my fingers,

A thing, and not a being,

A thing I simply refuse to give up,

A thing I’m addicted to.

…

But how do I tell them

That you’re all of the above

And so much more.

That you’re the only companion

I must solely rely on.

…

For the others have given me up…

Now, keep in mind, I wrote this poem during COVID when this wave of loneliness was washing over every single person on the planet because of the quarantine. Despite being in touch virtually, like everyone, I felt alone and ended up being addicted to my phone. This was before AI was introduced to the peoples, but this poem now takes a dark turn…

I hope I’m not still addicted to my phone as I was back then lmao.

But hey, one more to go, and then we’ll be done with #NaPoWriMo. Until then, I hope you keep reading…

… the blue diary xx

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Time.

They say, he is a friend to no one.

They say, he’s cruel,

And that he waits for none.

That he keeps a stopwatch for each person,

And monitors them till their watch stops ticking.

Ironic, isn’t it?

We think we use a watch to keep Time.

But in reality, Time uses a watch, to keep us,

To watch us,

Watch us die I suppose…

…

I came back home a few weeks ago,

And like any other child who lives away,

I was delighted with the idea of staying with my family all-the-time for the next couple months.

I got back to my room, my sacred space, and I got to see mom, dad, and my sister everyday all the time,

And knew that they were safe here, with me, and I was glad.

…

But as Hours turned into Days, Days turned into Weeks, I saw Him.

I saw those nearly invisible lines that Time marked on people.

…

I saw those lines on my mother when she complained a bit about the pain in her feet,

When she started eating less,

When she worries herself about her and father’s life after me and my sister would be married and moved away,

And yet she continues to stand for hours every day in the kitchen and make us food,

And love us the same with all her heart.

…

I saw those lines on my father when he started forgetting smallest of the things,

When he couldn’t comprehend complex sentences,

When his teeth started to ache,

When he started getting tired too easily,

And yet he continues to work hard every day to earn a living.

…

I saw those lines on my sister when she started talking of boyfriends and the idea of falling in love

And hostel life and projects and assignments,

When she started learning how to take care of herself and of the people around her,

When she didn’t need my help anymore,

When she started talking of buying a Mercedes, not for herself but for father,

When she started to grow up,

Not only in age and body, but also in mind and soul.

…

I saw those lines on my own face when I looked into the mirror and saw this tall woman,

And not a naïve little girl,

When I found myself looking for a job,

When I found myself wanting to travel alone to various countries and explore life,

When I found myself torn apart between living my own life and helping mom and dad live theirs,

When I found myself thinking too much about the future,

And whatever it holds, and how much Time did I have left on my stopwatch.

…

Time,

I’ve discovered, is befriended by none.

Because they think he’s cruel,

And he waits for none.

But he takes care of everyone’s stopwatches,

And monitors them till they stop ticking.

Ironic, isn’t it?

We think we use a watch to keep Time.

But in reality, Time uses a watch, to keep us,

To watch over us,

To watch us live our lives, grow up, grow old,

And to watch us die.

No matter what Time does though, I hope you’ll keep reading…

… the blue diary xx

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One fine winter night,

The two of us go out on a ride.

You drive us past various streets

Me sitting behind you, arms spread out wide.

The city quiet, the roads empty

The crisp weather keeping them all home, warm.

Yet we choose to get out and see

The city, the woods that surround.

The cool breeze flying through our hair

My trying to not let my beanie fly away with it.

None of us speaking a word to each other

Just being together, in spirit.

After all, aren’t those conversations wonderful

Which occur without having anything to say!

Just holding our hands together

And never parting our ways…

…

We stop by a place to drink some coffee,

And while we wait we look around,

This small locale, so secluded

With the trees and the woods all around.

Suddenly we notice,

That we’re standing too close

Looking for warmth in the arms of each other.

The distance between us,

Magically vanished!

We gaze into each other’s eyes

And our hearts beat faster than ever,

Then I break it, thinking that

It wasn’t something my heart could bear.

Then you say, with a playful smirk on your face,

“We’re standing so close, we could almost kiss!”

And I look at you for a while and think

“You’re right, we could almost kiss,

We could almost be, we could almost stay

together, forever, we could almost…

If only we could, we would

For I wouldn’t be able to stop myself

And neither would you.

But we shouldn’t, for I know,

That we’ll part ways when the day comes.

Till then, I have to cherish these almosts

And then leave you one day, glum.”

…

But I don’t say it out loud just yet,

For you may hate me forever,

For leaving you standing still

And not kiss you when the moment was, whatever for.

I look away, and ignore your statement

And say something else to cut the tension

Thinking you’d probably understand

And let it go, and forgive me later for it.

Instead you take hold of my hand

And you say those words which

I never hoped, I could ever hear from you.

And then a tear creeps down my cheek

But you gently wipe it away

Then panic strikes in, and I pull away

Bringing back the distance between is.

You finally let go of me

Leaving a thousand words unsaid

And understanding easily

What I couldn’t even say.

…

The ride back home, hauntingly quiet

So much like the ride towards, yet so unlike

Me, unsure as to how to tell you

That soon I’ll have to leave you,

For whatever that’s important to me

And somehow it comes before you, I wonder why.

You, probably unsure, as to why I stopped you

From saying anything further,

Of what you were going to

And why I silently made you cry.

We spend the next few months in melancholy

And meet when its time to finally say goodbye.

You understand now,

Why I left yoou unanswered

Yet you stand strong in front of me

Holding back all your tears

And as I leave, I take your hand in mine, for the last time

And I make false promises to call you, and text you,

Someday, sometime.

Damn, now I know why I stopped writing poems lmao. They don’t even follow a single rhyme scheme, or any of the metres, or any other intricacies of poetry! And it just ends up looking like a messy rant of my thoughts. I might as well do that in my personal essays, instead of propping them up as poems…

Anyway, just three more to go, and this poetry saga of my life will be over.

However, I hope you’ll keep reading…

… the blue diary xx

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Two of them in a single picture

Never fathomed that it were possible!

The futility evident,

By the amount of people standing between them.

The remoteness evident,

By the actual physical distance between them.

…

Two of them in a single picture

With a smile on both their faces,

Showing full teeth,

And their necks perched high,

Both unaware of the other,

Unaware of the state the other is in.

…

Two of them in a single picture

Taken to include the entire class.

But somehow for each one,

It’s like taking a picture only of the two of them.

Oh what irony!

For neither is actually with the other.

…

Two of them in a single picture

Looking at it you find it;

That expression on their faces,

Of desperately wanting to be together.

Oh how strange it is, that the distance between them,

Could vanish, if they just got rid of their insecurities,

And moved a little bit closer!

Another poem which gives a tiny glance into one of my memories from undergrad college. COVID had a way of being nostalgic about college, even though I was still in my final year, and these memories hadn’t even happened that long ago! Yet, I was remembering them as if they happened ages ago…

I think I’ve only got a few more poems from this series, and I’ll be back with them. Until then, I hope you keep reading…

… the blue diary xx

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Whenever it is that I sit down to write,

Whenever inspiration does strike,

I write pages and pages of thoughts,

And I just can’t seem to make them short.

But this one’s confined I tell you,

Or at least I’ve tried to.

‘Cuz nobody reads the long passages I write,

Except maybe those whom I dearly like.

Who believe in the stuff I do,

And always listen to what I have to say.

Unlike others who merely pretend,

But do not know a single word out of my life’s essay!

So this one’s for those who do not have the the time to read

But have the time of their lives for silly, brainless, mean jokes.

I hope you at least read this with your meagre attention span

And appreciate the fact that I could write shorter just for you folks!

This is such an immature poem lmao, but I guess I was angry that the people who called themselves my “friends” back then, didn’t read whatever I wrote. I mean I knew they weren’t readers, so I guess I was expecting a lot from them, but on the other hand, if you call me your friend, you should *want* to read/listen to what I have to say in my most vulnerable moments. Right? Idk.

Anyway, I’ve obviously grown up now, and I’m just happy if one person reads this. I’m writing these for myself now.

I’ve got a few more poems from this NaPoWriMo series, (which barely got like 5 likes on IG lmao), but I’m still posting these here, because well liked or not, I’m proud of everything I’ve written so far.

I’ll be back. Until then, I hope you keep reading…

… the blue diary xx

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We climb onto the bus and the journey begins.

You sit at the extreme front seat.

I’m at the back, happy being able to see your face throughout the ride.

You play music for all of us and they all dance to it.

I choose to sit back and look at you,

As you keep smiling and laughing all throughout the day.

And here I am, a bit blue,

Wishing to know what it was that you had to say.

I stare, as you let go of your curly hair,

And it flows with the wind.

Then for a moment you look right at me,

And I wish to have your hands all around my fingers, twined.

…

We stop by a place,

To take some rest.

You take off somewhere with your friends to roam about,

And my mind goes in a state of unrest.

When we climb back onto the bus,

You choose to sit right behind me,

And now I can’t see you.

But maybe your eyes are on me,

Or maybe they aren’t.

Maybe you sat back there because there weren’t any other empty spaces,

And maybe you’re just looking at your phone or probably sleeping,

And here I am, my thoughts wandering in some other place.

…

We reach our destination and roam around,

And we come back to the place where we’re lodging and just lie around,

On the artificial grass,

Gazing at the night sky,

Celebrating a friend’s birthday,

And pretend being in a state of high.

I look at your glassy eyes

Which have a glint of happiness.

And I’m relieved you don’t look that deep into mine,

‘Cuz I’m afraid you’ll find nothing but sadness.

I lay in my hotel room thinking about you

And wondering if you’re awake,

Wondering if I looked good last night,

Or maybe I just flaked.

Maybe you didn’t even notice,

And it all went in vain.

Or maybe you did,

And just thought I was lame.

…

The next day when the sun came out bright,

We decide to hit the pool.

You decide to wear black,

And I do too.

But surely that was a coincidence

And you look shocked as I am.

But you say nothing,

And I pretend to not notice.

But later when I wear blue,

It turns out you have that colour on you too.

Then on the third day when I wear white,

How is it that you wear the same colour again?

Three coincidences in three days,

I’m starting to get paranoid again.

I so want to talk to you,

And even the moment is so right.

The setting is perfect,

And the lights, so bright.

Yet something stops me

From going ahead,

Making the first move.

But I pretend to feel nothing instead.

…

It isn’t as if we don’t talk ever.

We do when everyone’s around.

But you don’t look into my eyes then, even if it is me you’re talking to.

And I feel as if I’m buried somewhere under the ground.

I stay quiet most of the time,

Listening and watching you intently.

Just curious as to what you’re thinking, feeling, or even doing,

Or wandering in your own world blissfully.

…

Why is it that I can’t talk to you, I don’t know.

But I do know that when it ends,

I’ll remember each and every one of these tiny moments,

However insignificant they might be

In the eyes of the normal.

They’re very significant to me.

Those looks which lasted a multiple eternities,

That brush of your hand when you went past me,

That feeling of getting goose bumps,

And the beating of my heart at it’s fastest speed.

The memory of those five days we all went on that trip.

Some of it tedious, some of it fun,

Most of us will forget it all, and go again someday,

But I hope to remember this always,

Each of my prior memories of you, outdone.

And when we’re back at our homes,

I’ll write it down in my diary.

‘Cuz this is the second time I’ve ever felt this in my entire life

And I want to document it all.

I’ll read and reread those pages from my memory

And I’ll wonder again, if you remember this, or even remember me at all…

I’ll be back with more of my poems. Until then, I hope you keep reading…

… the blue diary xx

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I don’t want to be Jo.

…

Everybody who watches or reads Little Women,

Relates to Josephine March ‘cuz they all wanna be her.

…

They all want that perfect ending for themselves.

They all want a Lauri to fall in love with them so that they can reject him,

And then move to the city and find a Friedrich for themselves.

They all just wanna wake up one day and write about their lives and expect to become bestselling writers overnight!

…

They don’t understand the worst parts of being a Jo March

Are being alone,

Not being loved,

Being too ambitious for a woman,

Being a father figure, a care taker to their families,

Taking charge of one’s life,

Working hard towards their passion in order to earn money out of it,

And even if that means that they’ll fail multiple times, they have to get up the next day.

Telling everyone that women have minds and souls, as well as just hearts,

And that they’re not born just to love.

Love is not what a woman is just made for,

Cuz she’s been made for so much more.

…

And I don’t want to be Jo March ‘cuz I’ve become her already!

Alone, loveless, deprived of companionship.

Found my Laurie, lost him to Amy.

Didn’t find my Friedrich yet, don’t know if I ever will.

Haven’t written my book, forget publishing it.

And I too think that women aren’t just made to marry and love and make children.

Women are so much more.

And I too wanna be free.

I don’t want to give charge of my life to anyone else.

…

Maybe that’s why, even if I see a romantic proposition coming, I push it away before it even reaches me.

‘Cuz I’m so sick and tired of people saying that it’s all a woman is fit for!

I’m so sick of people saying that a woman can’t make her own way, and she *has to* be dependent on a man.

And has to give him her undying love and support and then children, and then take care of those children and the household.

And even after all that, all those things don’t belong to her.

They belong to him

‘Cuz he’s a man.

…

But it’s all so difficult living in this mentality.

‘Cuz the more I think this way,

The more I find myself alone.

I’m 20 and I find myself alone.

it’s like Jo said in the 2019 film

That she’s so lonely that she just wants to be loved.

Who she loves doesn’t matter anymore.

And she knows that being loved and loving someone are two different things,

But she’s so lonely.

So lonely.

…

I’m lonely.

And I find myself being Jo.

And I don’t want to be.

I don’t want to be Jo March!

I want to be happy,

I want to be loved.

I want to be anything but Jo.

‘Cuz I don’t know if there is even a Friedrich out there for me or not.

And I don’t know if I even have the patience to wait for him to come to me,

Or the guts to tell him that I love him even if he is right in front of me.

…

So please,

Let me be somebody else.

Let me be some other character from some other book from some other universe.

An Elizabeth Bennet from Pride and Prejudice,

Or a hazel Graze Lancaster from The Fault in Our Stars!

A Lara jean from To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before,

Or hell, even a Juliet would do, even if that means I’ll die in the end!

But at least I’ll be loved…

And I won’t ever be so lonely as I am now.

Don’t think this was one my best ones, but it is something that I wrote back then. I have to face my past versions if I want to get better in the future. So here we are…

I’ll be back with more of my poems. Until then, I hope you keep reading…

… the blue diary xx

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Stop.

Listen.

What does it say to you?

That you’re unworthy?

That you don’t deserve any of it?

…

Stop.

Think.

What do you have to say back?

Can you prove that you’re worthy?

Can you prove that you deserve it?

…

Stop.

Listen again.

Does it tell you that all your efforts to solve this maze are going to fail?

Does it tell you that you’ll be alone in all this?

Does it tell you that you’re not capable of doing it all alone?

…

Stop.

Wait.

Tell it that you’re enough.

Tell it that your efforts will destroy all its challenges.

Tell it that even if you fail, you'll be contended with the fact that you at least tried.

A short one from me this time. But there’s more to come!

Until then, I hope you enjoy reading…

… the blue diary xx

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I’m in my bed,

Wrapped under covers.

It’s summer I know,

But somehow these blankets have become the only thing I’ve got, to snuggle with.

…

I feel a sudden pang in my heart,

And I wonder what the reason might be.

So I pick up my phone and start typing,

This.

Whatever this is…

A poem?

A rant?

An article?

An essay?

A diary entry?

I honestly don’t know.

…

But I do know

That whatever it is,

Writing will help me figure it out.

It always does.

…

I haven’t been able to write though,

Since many days now.

Whenever I pick up a pen

And try to scribble on a blank page,

It just stares back at me.

Some random words do fall out,

But nothing that makes sense to me.

…

So I scrap it all out.

And start again,

And again,

And again,

And again,

Until nothing comes out at all.

Then I go blank.

…

That’s when it gets the worst.

I start thinking I’m worthless.

I start doubting my abilities.

I begin to create this image in my mind

That if I can’t write anymore

Then what’s the point?

What is the point?

And that’s when I give up.

…

I stop trying to write, thinking, “I might have some other talents in me which might be useful.

So why writing? Why words? Why these beautifully stringed sentences?

Why these poetic devices? These similes and metaphors?

Why these long paragraphs? These essays and these holographs?”

“I don’t need them!” I begin to think.

…

I start doing other things,

Like helping mum in the kitchen,

Being a good daughter,

Start reading books,

Watching the news,

Talking about it with dad,

Helping my sis with her projects,

Being a good sister,

Helping others,

Friends, foes, and strangers,

Being a good person…

…

But whenever I go to sleep,

I feel what I felt today

Before writing this down;

A pang in my heart,

Which says that I do need those words,

Those beautifully stringed sentences,

Those poetic devices, similes and metaphors,

Those huge paragraphs, essays, and holographs.

…

I need them to talk.

Talk to myself,

And then maybe other through it.

I need them to let it all out.

All the mess that’s in there,

In my crappy brain.

…

Maybe those staring blank pages

And meaningless words,

Try to teach me something

Every once in a while.

That I need to stop trying too much,

And give myself a break.

That I need to start loving myself,

And my words, my writings.

…

Believe me I’ve tried.

And I’ve realised,

That loving myself

Is the hardest thing

I’ll ever do.

But it needs to be done.

…

And then maybe,

Just maybe, I’ll start writing beautifully.

Till then, these sudden outbursts of words

Like the one occurring right now

Are the ones I’ll have to rely on.

To say proudly, that yes

I write.

I write whatever comes to my mind.

And that these words, these beautifully stringed sentences,

These poetic devices, these similes and metaphors,

These paragraphs, essays, and holographs,

Make sense!

I hope you enjoyed reading…

… the blue diary xx

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An old man walks down the street.

A street which isn’t the same as it was 20 years ago.

He looks around as he takes a stroll under his umbrella, thinking…

“Everything has changed”.

…

The same amount of heavy rainfall, pouring down the skies.

The skies which are the same saddest shade of blue, or black, or maybe both, he thinks,

“But besides that,

Everything has changed”.

…

Small houses demolished; buildings that touch the skies take their place.

The people who originally lived here fret over but also somehow get along with the immigrants, thinking…

“Everything has changed”.

…

The old man continues walking, passes by many shops, restaurants, cafes, candy stores on the way, taking in a different fragrance with every 5th step of his way, remembers his childhood.

“There used to be very few places to eat out back in those days; that too with much less variety and so little confusion!

But now…

Everything has changed”.

…

The old man sits on a bench alongside the road, tired of his walk, mesmerised with the current state of his whereabouts.

Mercedes, Jaguar, Audi, Range Rover, and whatnot branded cars drive past him, the traffic which has drastically increased on the road irritates him.

The whole change in the scenario from 20 years ago of this neighbourhood frightens him.

He longs for his home, back in the countryside, where he finds solace.

But at some point he thinks, “There too…

Everything’s going to change”.

I hope you keep reading…

… the blue diary xx

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For the second time

I leave one thing in search of another

Another, another which is better

A better that I think will change my life forever

…

For the second time

I lose deep old friendships

Friendships that I thought would last forever

The forevers that I thought would also benefit me as it did them

…

For the second time

I lose love

Love which once made me powerful

Powerful yet powerless at the same time

…

For the second time

I feel numb to all the pain

Pain that doesn’t come one by one

One that comes all at once and leaves me devastated

…

For the second time

I’m left with nothing

Nothing to love, live for, or die for

Nothing but my memories, emotions, and the little bit of strength that keeps me alive

…

For the second time

I build walls around myself

Walls which hold me together

So I don’t fall apart by the weight of everything that I’m holding in

…

For the second time

I try to move on

Remembering to never let anyone else in

In where they could break everything

…

For the second time

I hope that the next time

I’m strong when this situation arrives

Strong enough to face it and yet not break down

For the third time…

Wow, that was intense to rewrite! Little did I know that I’d be doing all this for the third, fourth, and I don’t know how many more times. But hey, that’s life I guess. I’m definitely stronger now though, so at least one of my wishes from this poem came true.

I’ll be back with more of my poetry masterpieces like this.

Until then, I hope you keep reading…

… the blue diary xx

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The Sky’s turned to his saddest hue

As if he’s trying to hold back his emotions.

Pools of tears forming in his eyes while he’s looking over at the Earth

The state she’s in

The life within her fading away

Bit by bit.

…

The tears tumble down his cheeks

As he lets down his guard

But only for a while.

It rains

Then it stops

As quickly as it started.

As he pulls himself together

Staying strong for his companion

For he might have others

But the Earth has only him.

…

It’s all their fault, he thought

Them humans, he condemned

For exploiting her to their benefits

And not giving a damn about

The very own place that gave them a home.

…

But they’re all gonna die soon

For she has given too much to them

And now she’s fighting back

Taking from them all that they ever loved

Bit by bit.

…

She’s gonna heal herself from

The disease that is humans

Regretting the fact that

She created them in the first place

Only to have them hurt her

Maim her, rape her

In every way possible

But that shall stop now

For she will have her revenge

Making them all face her wrath

…

Then the world shall be

Brought back to equilibrium

Saving herself she shall

Put her pieces back

And the Sky and the Earth shall be happy again.

I hope you liked it.

Sometimes I’m so proud of the writer I used to be, even though I’m so much better at it now. I just remember the validation I needed as a writer back when I was 20 years old, and now, as a 26 year old writer, I so happy to be the one to hold her and tell her that she was already so brilliant!

I’ll be back with more of my #NaPoWriMo2020 poems.

Until then, I hope you keep reading…

… the blue diary xx

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Mum and dad, if you end up reading this, try not to be disappointed in me? I promise I’m not that person anymore. And if in case you don’t end up reading this, I’ll be somewhat glad and relieved.

Anyway, here you go…

I’ve got Taylor Swift’s ‘this is me trying’ playing in the background as I type this post. It’s the perfect track to play while writing about what I’m going to write about, I think. I’ve even got the name of this track tattooed on my wrist, right under a semi-colon, and even though I got it for a reason completely different to the song, I guess it has almost the same sentiments.

Addiction: that’s what I want to talk about today.

(Trigger Warning: read only if you’re comfortable with the topic. I wouldn’t recommend reading if you’ve got a history of addiction or if you’re going through it and are in a difficult state right now when it comes to addiction.)

To begin with, let me just put it out there that I’m no expert when it comes to addiction. I’ll only be speaking from what I’m currently going through, and hopefully, as always, by writing about it, I’ll figure out a way out of it.

I previously mentioned that I’d been working at a job for the last one year, which wasn’t in the field of writing. It was a customer service job, which helped me gain a lot of experience in many things, but most importantly it taught me how to talk to people, especially strangers, without having a legit panic attack. In the last one year, I’ve somehow overcome my fear of talking to strangers, and now I can easily make conversations and carry out the dreaded ‘“small talk”, without breaking a sweat!

But along with the good things that this job has taught me, it also brought along its problems. Its nice to talk to people when they’re also being nice. However, when a customer is being difficult, it’s somehow not as easy to navigate. During my time at the job, I’ve learnt how to hide my anger and frustration towards a difficult customer in front of them at least, and manage the situation with a smile on my face regardless of their behaviour. I’ve mastered this skill so well, that I heard one of my colleagues say that they’ve never once seen me get angry, ever! Honestly. I’m glad they haven’t, because when I do get angry, I’m a very difficult person to talk, and to be around.

However, bottling up the anger that came with this job meant that I had to figure out a way to let that anger out in a different way. I couldn’t take it out on any of my colleagues or friends or my family, because that would just be unfair. They don’t deserve being yelled at by me, because they didn’t do anything wrong, and they’re really not the people with whom I’m annoyed. So, I decided to take the easy way out to relieve the stress, and I started smoking cigarettes.

When I was a teenager, me and my best friend, we’d decided that we’d try everything there is to try in the world, but never smoking. It was a kind of an oath that we’d taken as kids. But when we grew up, moved to Mumbai, our world was opened up to a more free and liberal lifestyle. I wasn’t around her when I tried my first cigarette, and I didn’t like it at first, but it gave me a certain light-headedness that I enjoyed.

I had a rule when it came to drinking and smoking back then; that I’d only do it when I was around people who smoked or drank. I still have that rule, and it works for me, because I’m not very much of a party person, so there are very few instances when I’m hanging out with people who drink or smoke. But six months into this job, I had taken on smoking more regularly than I used to. At first I only did it when I was working, and only during my break. But slowly, as you can predict, it became more regular. One hint of a difficult conversation with a difficult customer, or during a lull between rush hours, and I’d be out back smoking a cigarette. It turned into a very toxic cycle, which I was slowly getting addicted to, because it was a quick fix to the stress that this job gave me.

I slowly stopped smoking cigarettes and moved onto smoking e-cigarettes, or vapes as the kids call it. Cigarettes are expensive and less accessible here in the U.K., than vapes, and they were flavoured, which meant they didn’t give one horribly bad breath. Also, they’d hit you better than a cigarette, since the nicotine amount was higher than a cigarette. Eventually, I was smoking four 600 puff vapes in a week! Apparently that’s not a lot, because I know some of my colleagues to go through a single 600 puff vape in less than a day. But it was a lot for me, considering I had no history with smoking then.

Slowly, my friends, colleagues, the guys I dated, and even my sister noticed that I was smoking more than usual. My best friend took the courage and let me know that I was getting addicted, and she asked me to consider quitting. I mean, deep down I knew I was getting addicted, but I guess I didn’t want to admit it out loud. But she did, and it took me aback. I started noticing what it did to my health: the shortness of breath, lower stamina, and a general air of nervousness about myself if I didn’t smoke for a certain amount of time.

This is where we come to today I guess.

When I quit that job, I decided that I would try and quit vaping altogether. But I know that this is not something that’ll happen in a single day. And if I went cold turkey, I’d have horrible withdrawal symptoms. So, I’ve decided to cut down my intake, lower the amount of vapes I smoked in a week.

Now that I’m not working at my old job since the past four days, I’ve got a sign on my bedroom wall that says “Quit Smoking”, in a very aggressive way. However, I don’t think being aggressive with myself has ever worked for me. So I might have to come up with a more kinder sign for myself, which says the same thing but it somehow convinces me in a more softer way to quit this habit I’ve picked up.

I think I’ll give myself a month or so, reduce my intake, and slowly I’ll be sticking to my old rule, where I only smoke when I’m around people who smoke, which is a very rare instance anyway. I hope you guys, as my friends or fellow readers agree with this strategy, and if you guys have any notes or advice, leave them in the comments and I’d be happy to read them. Also, if you guys have any links to any advice columns here on Substack or anywhere else, please add the link in the comments, and I’d be grateful to read them and get any help that I can.

As always I’m grateful to my readers for even just reading my works, if not liking o leaving a comment, or recommending it to your friends. It’s what keeps me alive every single day.

I’ll be back tomorrow, with something else to talk about, and hopefully, day by day, the plan I’ve devised above, works out. Wish me luck!

Until then, au revoir! <3

I’m glad that at least this goal was the one that I was able to actually achieve. I moved back to India in December 2024, and ended up completely cutting myself off. And now it’s mid-2026, and after many ups and downs, I’m doing good for real!

This brings me to the end of my Substack archives, but I’m sure I’ve got a lot more of these gems saved in my Instagram archives. I’ll be back to post them here soon!

Until then, I hope you keep reading…

… the blue diary xx

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But hey, at least I don’t continue being stuck in one place for a long time. I love that about myself; the fact that I always keep moving, falling, getting back up, and moving again!

Hello again Substack!

I’ve just recently quit a job I’d been working at for over a year now. It wasn’t related to writing or anywhere close to my desired field of work, but it has certainly taught me many invaluable lessons which I’m grateful for, and ones which I’ll never forget.

Now that that chapter is over, it is time to turn the page and start a new one.

After this year-long break, I think its time to divert myself back onto the path, one which I initially wanted to walk on. I’m hoping that by starting to write on my Substack again, I’ll find my way back…

But this isn’t the only thing I’ll be doing of course. There are many other things that I have to work on, in the hopes that at least one of them works out, and if not, it helps me in one way or another to achieve what I first set out to achieve. I would love to lay out all my plans here, because that’s what I usually do: lay my heart out in the hopes that the words I send out in the world manifest in one way or another. That might have worked for me in the past, but now I’m thinking of taking a different approach.

One of the things I hope to be able to do is, somehow isolate myself from most distractions. I wouldn’t say *all* because some distractions are quite necessary for me to be able to live, for example, talking to my family back in India almost every day on video calls. They’re my biggest cheerleaders, and without them I wouldn’t be where I am today. And one or two other distractions that shall go unnamed.

On the other hand, this time, I’ll only be revealing my plans if and when they work out. After all, no one else is really affected by them besides me. So it’s really no one else’s business. But of course, as and when they do work out, I’d be delighted to share them and celebrate with everyone!

However, for now, this is all I’ve got to say. But fret not, because I plan on slowly making it a habit to write here every day from today. Soon, you’ll be getting more updates about me and my world of writing. I just hope I’m actually able to follow through all the plans I’ve made, especially the one about me writing here every day.

So, wish me luck on my journey.

Until then, au revoir! <3

This was a short one. I guess after working one year at a Starbucks, I ran out words to write for a while. But look at me now two years later, how I’m back in my stride, writing and reading and writing, and working at this brand new job in Mumbai where I get to write every single day!

I’ll be back with more of my archives. Until then, I hope you keep reading…

… the blue diary xx

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I don’t think anybody noticed (because barely five people read this) that I didn’t put anything up here last week.

I normally would have, despite whichever struggles I’m going through. However, last week was a bit too much to handle. Things finally calmed down yesterday though. But I still didn’t have the energy to write anything. Finally today, on this fine Tuesday evening, I’ve mustered the courage to come up with something. I have no idea if I’ll be able to write again on Thursday this week, but if I don’t, count this one as a combined post for Monday and Thursday this week.

Honestly, I don’t even know where to even begin to describe the events of last week. Suffice to say, they were enough to cause me (a person who is mostly cool, calm and collected) to absolutely fucking flip out. I literally yelled, cried, threw things, screamed, pulled my own hair, clawed at my duvet in frustration. If I had a punching bag in my room, I’d have completely torn the thing apart! I was that angry.

It wasn’t even anything big. It came out as a result of a million tiny things going wrong, one after the other. Starting with me not being able to get a ticket for my little sister to attend my graduation ceremony because apparently the huge-ass Cathedral on campus had reached its “full capacity” and I was only allowed to bring in two free guests, which had to be my parents. I had to buy the fucking “live-stream” tickets for her, which is so unfair. “At least, everyone will be together for the reception afterwards,” is what I keep telling myself.

That’s just one of the things that went wrong. Numerous other things have been going downhill for the past few weeks, and I have been getting overwhelmed with it all, but not once did I break down. I knew, if I didn’t stay calm, I couldn’t come up with a sensible solution/s to get out of all this. But then, last Monday, the hinges on my laptop (my new as a baby laptop!) decided to get jammed, and in turn, led to actually crack the screen when I opened it!

I lost it. I cracked!

Thankfully, in the heat of all the things I did to take out my frustration, I managed to not throw my laptop and break it even further. When I came back to my senses, I decided to send it back to India to get it fixed. My parents can bring it with them, when they come here next month. So that’s one problem solved. Until then, I’m using my friend’s laptop, since she’s got another work laptop to work on.

A lot of other problems are staring me in the face right now. I solved another one of them yesterday. And the graduation ceremony ticket problem, there’s nothing I can do about it. So three down, a million more to go. I guess it definitely is overwhelming, looking at all of them at once. So I’m just trying to take things one step at a time.

Writing here on Substack isn’t really a problem, but as soon as I get done with this, I’m going to move on to other problems this week. Hopefully, this gives me the motivation to do other things, now that I’ve got some things off my chest. Other tiny miniscule problems that are either too personal to mention here, or too minute to bother you all with, shall go unmentioned.

But now that I’ve finished my quota for getting extremely angry as well as immensely sad (which happened in January earlier) for this year, I can finally move on and focus on coming up with solutions instead of wallowing in my pain. A lot of things might change this next week, or even in the next month, but I’m not giving up.

Now, I have to go. White-sauce spaghetti awaits. I’ll be back, hopefully on Thursday, but if not that, then next Monday, with something positive to talk about.

Until then, au revoir! <3

Honestly, fair. This was one fair crash-out from me I guess. It was such a frustrating and depressing time of my life. I’m glad I got through it. Although, something tells me that I’m not done with my share of trials and crash-outs in my life yet… I’ve got many more to come in the future!

Until then, I hope you keep reading…

… the blue diary xx

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Also, mum and dad, if you end up reading this, I’m sorry? I think you guys have a vague idea about my dating life, but this blog would probably reveal more than you intended to know. I’m cool with it though; just don’t be mad that I didn’t tell you most of this lmao. And if in case you don’t end up reading this, you know I’ll eventually end up telling you all this anyway…

And to everyone else, enjoy reading the messy dating life of a pathetic 23-year-old… :p

I’ve got a major writer’s block this week.

So I don’t expect this Thursday’s post to be great or anything. It’ll probably be very disoriented and all over the place. But I am writing and putting up something, so I hope that counts. I don’t even know what this is about, but I’m just gonna go with the flow here.

I could talk about my career again, but I am kind of stuck these days on that front. I don’t want to keep ranting about the same dilemmas over and over again. Consequently, since I have no extra money coming in, I cannot take up any adventurous trips to go to, which means I’m stuck at home with nothing to do, except continuously apply for jobs and wait to hear something other than rejections in my emails.

So I thought I could talk about dating! My own dating life and dating in the 21st century basically. A fun topic, right?

I’m no expert, since I barely have experience in the matter. Even if I do, I don’t think it counts. I’m 23 years old, and it’s just kind of sad to me that I haven’t had a single meaningful romantic relationship in my life. Honestly, I’m not even looking for anything permanent since I’m just in my 20s and looking to experiment. But I do want something that makes me feel amazing, and at the same time, the most awful. I want something that is beautiful as well as painful, and I am ready to get hurt romantically, brutally if need be. However, I’ve never had the opportunity to experience any of it.

I thought I had it back in November 2020, when I fell in love with my best friend of three years, and he told me he was in love with me too. Except, my fate is so doomed that he had to be taken away from me to work in a different city within the next two months. We tried to make it work long-distance for six months. Nonetheless, when you don’t have a lot of time together to create a base for your relationship in person, no matter how hard you try, a long-distance relationship is set to fail.

That doesn’t mean that I’ve been alone. There have been a lot of guys in my life, and I don’t mean to say that in a way which comes off as slutty or me showing off. It just means that I have come close to experiencing meaningful friendships and relationships many times. But for some reason, I tend to break them off when the slightest bit of inconvenience comes up. I know that it’s not a healthy way to navigate relationships, but I’m just too damn scared to lose myself in the process of experiencing what I want as I mentioned above. So I’m basically stuck in this vicious cycle, and I haven’t found a single guy for whom I’d be willing to break it.

I was close many times though. Just at the start of 2023, I thought I was going to get a chance to build something amazing with this one guy I’d only been seeing for 20 days. It was so healthy and organic and beautiful. But like I said, I’m doomed. I am so doomed, that to break this really great thing that was happening to me after such a long time, his ex-girlfriend just shows up after two years of no-contact and convinces him to give her another chance. He obviously said yes to her, and I didn’t really think I’d be heartbroken over something so frivolous and silly. But I was heartbroken nevertheless.

I don’t think it has brought me down enough to lose hope though. I’m a reader and a writer, and I grew up reading stories of love and friendship and romanticism. At heart, I am still a huge hopeless romantic, however cringe and cliché it might sound. I have been writing essays and short stories about love, and even my debut novel is a story of love and friendship. I don’t think I can ever give up hope on these things in my life.

Although, it’s not like it’s easy to date in this day and age. Social media and dating apps have ruined the experience of meeting someone naturally and forming real relationships. I’m not saying that dating apps don’t work, they do, for some people; but not for everyone, I suppose. However, I’m so introverted that I’d probably never be able to strike up a normal, let alone a romantic friendship with a stranger I just met at in a park, or a bookstore, or a museum. So, dating apps are probably my only resort.

That led me to form various filtering processes of my own in picking out and matching with guys on those apps. You don’t need to know those of course, but they are helpful up until a certain level. Then comes the talking stage, which honestly is so exhausting, because you have to start again every time you start talking to a new guy. But there really is no other option, is there, besides starting to talk to them to get to know them? So you have to do it, however exhausting it may be.

And then, when you’ve talked for a certain amount of time to make sure they’re safe enough to meet in person, you decide to go somewhere on a date. A café or a bar is usually the best option. You don’t have to commit to something as long as dinner, but you can always go for it after grabbing the coffee or drink if the date turns out to be nice. If it doesn’t, you can always cut the date short after a nice coffee or a drink, and a few conversations. And then if you like, you go for more dates, do fun things together, really get to know each other and get comfortable in each others’ company.

That’s as far as I’ve been able to go with guys in my life though: just a few dates. And then something happens, a problem shows up between the two of us, and I cut it off and never speak to them again. Sometimes I don’t even tell them that I have a problem with something they said or did, and I just end up ghosting them. And yes, I know it’s not okay, and it’s not healthy, and I’m trying to work on that. But like I said, I haven’t found anyone who is worthy enough to make me break this cycle.

If any one has any advice or suggestions, let me know, because I’m all out of answers. I’ve just started seeing someone new, and I don’t wanna make the same mistakes over and over again.

I’ve got to end this rant now, since I don’t have a lot to say this week because of the aforementioned writer’s block. But I will be back on Monday, hopefully with something more interesting to talk about than my not-so-interesting dating life.

Until then, au revoir! <3

I wish I didn’t have to share this again, but in the name of artistic integrity, I have to face all my versions; the past, the present, and the future. Most especially, if I want to grow as a writer, I have to face my past. Even if I really don’t want to…

As always, I’ll see you soon. Until then, I hope you keep reading…

… the blue diary xx

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Brilliant, isn’t it? And relatable to many!

This is a combined post for Monday and Thursday for this week.

I forgot to write on time, again. I realised that on Wednesday, so it was too late to even think about writing anything for the day I missed. I’m trying to be strict with myself about writing here, because I have never committed properly to any of the blog sites I’ve created in the past, and left them high and dry. I don’t want the same to happen with this one. But a few slip-ups in the beginning of this process are allowed, I guess?

The possibility of me going back to India is being floated around in the discussions I’m having with my family these days. My situation here isn’t really that bad, but my family, especially my dad has this habit of being super realistic and preparing for the worst case scenario in every situation. So, that’s my worst case scenario these days: moving back to India.

Honestly, it wouldn’t be such a bad thing. I can’t live away from my home for that long anyway. I’m very clingy towards my family in a partially healthy and partially unhealthy way. I’d get home cooked meals at the palm of my hand, I’ll have people doing stuff for me, and I won’t have to do my own chores at all. I could just help dad out in his business, give him ideas on how to expand, how to the reach out to his customers my age, and help him change with the times. I’ve got a million ideas on how I could help him, and how I could put his money to a better use; I’ve got his businessman gene in me after all!

That’s the thing though. I could do all of that and be happy and successful. But do I really want to? And aren’t your 20s supposed to be you trying different things that you want to do in life? Its the age of trial and error, and I don’t think I’m done trying.

I know, secretly, people (especially Indians that I meet in the U.K.) assume that I just moved here because I’m just some “rich kid” whose father had some extra money lying around the house, and had nothing better to do there in India because COVID happened. I can see their eyebrows raised when I tell them that I’m studying for my MA in Creative Writing, which for them is a course that someone takes who has a lot of time on their hands.

What they don’t know is that I’ve been dreaming about this since the 7th grade when I first gave those two Cambridge ESOL examinations. They haven’t seen the posters on my bedroom walls, or the amount of research and planning I put into coming here, up to the point where I drove myself crazy. I vigorously looked for funding opportunities, and asking dad for the money was never an option. Never! However, because of COVID all my funding opportunities came to a halt, and I was about to defer my acceptance offer for a year. That’s when he offered me the money. So, yes on the surface, it must look like it, but I was glad to take it from him, because he earned it with his hard work for me. And it goes without saying that I will find a way to pay him back someday.

What I really doubt is, will I be able to do that by going back this soon? Without even really trying to make it work here? I’ve only completed stage one, by successfully completing my masters. Where I’m stuck right now, is being able to get a job. And sure, I have a lot of academic accolades, but I have almost zero working experience. So it has been a task, applying for jobs, and receiving rejections.

When I talked about this with my best friend, he came up with a straight-forward answer. “No!” he said, “You can’t come back now. Don’t even let that idea into your head! You didn’t dream about this for so long only to give it up this soon. You need to achieve all those little goals you wanted to achieve in the U.K., and only then you can come back.” And sure he doesn’t really have a full idea of the trials and tribulations I am going through here, but his response gave me a lot of clarity. All the doubts I had in my mind suddenly vanished because it all came down to me not giving up without taking what I came here for. I got all the clarity I needed from his answer.

His clear answer doesn’t really solve all my problems, but it does help me decide on what to do next. Now, it’s in my hands on how to make it possible.

So, I’m sorry mum, dad and sis, but me coming back home will have to wait. Until then, you prepare for you guys to visit me here.

Oh, by the way, moving into a new flat is soon eminent, and I am super excited! I will finally have a place of my own, and I can decorate it the way I want. I have to start packing now. Also, my podcast interview went really really great, and I cannot wait to share more details about it with you guys. It’s going to be out this month. I also have to continue writing my novel soon, because sure I’ve got numerous chapters written, but I really need to get back into the rhythm and finish writing the whole thing before 2023 ends. That’s one of my major goals this year. Hopefully it all goes well; fingers crossed!

I’ll be back here on Monday, hopefully with some good news on the job front.

Until then, au revoir! <3

I ended up staying in the U.K. for one more year, which was such an amazing time! I’m so glad I didn’t give up, and that I chose to stay. I still get sad about the fact that I eventually had to come back towards the end of 2024, but who knows, maybe I’ll get the chance to go back there again some day!

Until then, I hope you keep reading…

… the blue diary xx

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Read this blog, and you’ll understand why I’m saying this:

It’s almost 10.00 am and surprisingly I’ve slept through the night last night, and woke up in the morning this morning, like a normal person.

It was Thursday yesterday, and I completely forgot that I’d promised myself to write here twice a week, and I almost missed it. But it’s fine, I’m only a day late, and posting this today, on Friday, works.

Since Monday, when I leaked the excerpt from my upcoming debut novel in my last post, I’ve been getting this overwhelming feeling of insecurity. That was me showing a part of it to my friends and family, and consequently to the rest of the world (if they ever read my posts here lol), and it left me feeling very vulnerable. I did say I was open to receiving feedback, any comments or suggestions or improvements. The people who actually read my stuff, sent me elaborate messages giving me praise as well as constructive criticism, and however less that number of people might be, I’m so glad I’ve got them to support my work.

Besides my friends, I have also received a lot of feedback from my professors at The University of Surrey, when I was studying my MA in Creative Writing. Each semester we had numerous Creative Writing Workshops, where every week we would study the creative sample works of one of the students from our class. It was a great opportunity to get my work seen and receive feedback from the academics who were smack dab in the field of Creative Writing.

And when I collectively look at all the feedback and suggestions I have ever received, one thing keeps coming up constantly: details! While writing a scene inside a plot, what details to include, what details to hide, what details to reveal at what point of the plot, and what details to leave to the imagination of the reader. That’s where I have the most problems while writing any piece of literature.

Sure, I notice a lot of my mistakes in this department during the numerous editing sessions I carry out before actually putting my work out there for anyone to see. But my first drafts always have me over-explaining stuff, and I don’t know how to restrain myself from revealing too many details too soon. Who knows, I might be doing the exact same thing in these posts here on Substack, because I barely edit anything I write in my drafts before posting it.

Now, what I’m wondering is how do I fix it. How do I fix this involuntary habit of over-explaining myself? If looked at from a deep psychological point of view, the personality trait of over-explaining oneself, comes from the childhood trauma response of a person who has never been believed by anyone when they were young. I’m no psychological expert, but at least that’s what I’ve learnt from the internet. So, in order to fix that, I’ll have to turn to a psychological expert. (If you’re one, please comment your suggestions below or send me an email.) But until then, I’ll have to rely on my endless editing procedures and my own instincts.

Another insecurity I have when it comes to my original works, is that I always think they’re very basic. I probably hinted towards this in my last post too. Whenever I look at my own works, it screams ‘basic bitch’. Again, that possibly comes from a very self-deprecating point of view, and I really need to work on that. But I constantly keep trying to make my works unique. I just hope, in the process of doing that, I don’t lose my originality.

It’s almost 12.00 now, and I think this post will have to be a short one, since I can’t think of anything to write besides the above dilemma. I’m being interviewed today, for the Surrey New Writers Festival’s podcast, and I need to go and prepare material for what I’m going to say. I’ll reveal more details on this in my next post. But for now, wish me luck!

I’ll see you guys again on Monday.

Until then, au revoir! <3

See what I mean? Introspection #101!! Sometimes I wish I wasn’t so self-aware and constantly self-examining myself. It hinders my ability to just write without over-thinking…

Anyway, as always, if I’m not busy overthinking, I’ll see you soon.

Until then, I hope you keep reading…

… the blue diary xx

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It makes me so proud of the writing abilities I had back then, and how I had a dream about publishing my debut novel at the mere age of 23/24! Obviously, it didn’t work out for me for reasons out of my control, but I do miss my novel-writing-phase so much…

Who knows, maybe I’ll continue writing it, and finish it some day?!

It’s no secret that most writers create works based on their own lives.

The very fact that they can conceptualize their own life lessons and turn them into literary works of art is what makes them a writer. So when you look at fictional stories or even fantasy novels, you’ll notice that in their foundation they are highly inspired by something the author has experienced in their own lives.

My first novel is no exception. A coming-of-age story of three friends, their relationships with each other and the rest of the world, presented in a romantic, comedic, and satiric way, is all there is to this story. In it’s roots, it’s very basic, very common, very human.

But simply whipping up a story about three friends won’t get me anywhere, be it Wattpad, or even the high profile publishing houses, which is why I have to come up with something unique.

My brain is always full of amazing and brilliant ideas, and of course, I came up with various ideas to turn my real life story into a very unique “fictional” novel. I touched upon the genres of thriller and crime and detective and mythology and fantasy. I came up with many tropes on how these three friends would have a story in each of these genres. But none of the genres offered me the opportunity to present this story in the way I want it to be out in the world. It didn’t seem authentic, or written from my heart. And sure, we have to make a lot of logical decisions, but why the most important decisions in our lives are made from the heart, I’ll never know.

All I knew, that it was the heart I had to follow.

So I did, and I decided to unveil a lot of the realities of my life, through this story, and through some unique fictional elements which help the story in many many ways. Romance was ever-present in this story. Not only was it the foundation, but it also tied everything together. However, it was the comedy and the satiric themes of the story that really brought some colour into the writing of this novel.

The only recurring problem I have with this piece of literature is that I cannot for the life of me come up with a title for the same. But I suppose, a very obvious answer to this dilemma will show itself at a later stage, as I continue to work on this, make it ready for publication and not give up.

Let me tell you what happens, without giving all of it away…

The story is written from the first-person point of view of Sana, the protagonist, who returns to Nagpur, India, after spending five years studying, working and traveling overseas. But she only has a month to spend with her family before she has to leave again and go to Mumbai to begin her new job at a magazine. This one month is a description of her journey into her past, the years she spent in this town since school all the way until five years ago when she left the place.

While rediscovery of the past events, she takes a nostalgic tour of the town, reminiscing some old memories with two of her old friends, Sree and Jay, who are all estranged. Her journey takes us through a lot of flashbacks, and the backstory, and the present events go hand-in-hand in a very Christopher Nolan kind of way, and make us make sense of why everything is the way it is between the three of them.

Oh but wait; Sana seems to be carrying a deep secret since the very first chapter, which remains unknown to everyone! A secret which affects her every single decision, and haunts every single moment of her life, until she is finally forced to face the truth and let it go, so she can be free.

Whatever could that secret be? To find out, stay tuned as I drop more hints about this novel in the next few months.

Until then, check out an excerpt from one of the chapters in the novel, ‘The Church of Sanity’. Among the numerous flashbacks throughout the story, this one is a bitter-sweet memory that is the end and the beginning of everything that unravels among Sana, Sree and Jay, and their consequent estrangement.

I hope you enjoy it!

It was a pleasant evening, approximately seven years ago, and the three of us had decided to meet at our spot at 6 pm.

The next day, Sree was heading towards Bangalore, back to his college, where he had already completed two years. This was going to be his final year, and he was home for the vacations, before the year began. Two days after he would leave, I was set to go to Mumbai, where I’d spent two years, and was going back for my final year, just like him. Thankfully, Jay stayed behind in Nagpur for his college, or else who knows how all three of us would have managed to be in the same place ever again. He was our anchor, a reason to come back home.

I was the first one to arrive at our spot, this bench next to the cemetery, on the grounds of a church. The compound walls to the cemetery were so low, you could see the entire area from this bench. I was just waiting, sitting on the bench, reading yet another book. ‘The Amethysts’ it was called, written by Frank Delaney.

“Can you believe it?” exclaimed Jay as he walked in with his usual swagger and his basketball outfit. He was probably heading here right after practice.

“What?” I wondered.

“They’ve repainted the fucking place all over again. This is the third time they’ve done that in the past two years.”

“Well, it does look bright and new,” I said, as I looked around to admire the fresh view.

“You’re missing the point here Sana! Our names that we carved into that wall; they’re gone! Again!” he pointed aggressively to the wall on my right, as he finally reached the bench and sat down next to me.

“You’re right! I can’t even see where it was. The wall is now brand new.” I traced my palm through the wall on the exact spot where our names were.

“Exactly! This cannot be happening. How many times do we come back here and claim what’s ours?” Jay declared, as if he was about set a war on whoever came his way.

He started aggressively fishing his bag-pack for something and I went back to reading my book, waiting for Sree to join us and handle Jay’s paranoia.

“Aha! Found it.” He took out a drawing compass, and crouched down on the ground in front of the wall. He held out the sharp end and began carving. I looked at him and shook my head in exasperation.

“What is the use, Jay? After a while, they’ll repaint it all over it again. They constantly keep working on maintaining the church grounds, and I don’t think they’ll let a vandalistic wall carving remain on these ‘sacred’ grounds. Besides, contrary to what you think, this is not our spot. I mean sure, we hang out here regularly, but we do not own the place. The church people do.”

I stopped talking when I realized he wasn’t paying attention to me at all, and just kept carving our names onto the wall. This wasn’t anything we needed to worry about anyway, because he was carving our code names that I created when we first carved them in, so we wouldn’t get caught.

Bunny | Adi | Avi

A ‘Yeh Jawani Hai Deewani’ movie reference. I’ll admit it was lame, but the three of us related to that movie more than we ever wanted to admit.

Not that anyone was going to put out a police search with full names and faces for this minor vandalism, but I did not want to take any risk that would stop us from coming to this place. But we also needed a way to make this place ours, and the carving seemed perfect.

“What’s going on guys?” Sree asked as he arrived, with a bouquet of artificially coloured blue chrysanthemums.

“Jay is mad that they’ve repainted the grounds, so he’s carving our names back on to the wall.” I responded without looking up from my book because I wanted to finish the exciting chapter I was on. When I did look up, Sree was already walking towards me to sit on the bench.

“Ooh! Are those flowers for me? Why, thank you!” I looked at him adoringly, teasing and flirting with him.

“You wish,” he chuckled as he replied, and put the flowers away from my reach.

“You’re mean.” I made a fake grumpy face in front of him, and went back to reading my book.

A minute later, I notice a single flower out of the bouquet being placed in front of me on my book.

“They’re for Mrs. Mascarenhas’ gravestone back there,” he said as he pointed towards the graveyard, “But you can have one of them. Here.”

I gushed, almost naturally, not because he gave me a flower, but because he remembered the day Mrs. Mascarenhas died, two years ago.

// With her curly grey hair, and her short hunched-back frame, she used to come here with a walking stick in one hand, a bunch of blue chrysanthemums in the other. She was a regular visitor at this graveyard. She’d always come in once a week and put those flowers in front of her husband’s gravestone. She saw us every week, found us sitting on this exact bench either reading, or listening to music, sometimes both, sometimes doing our homework and projects together, sometimes just lying around and looking at the sky.

Every time she saw us, she would give me one flower from her bouquet, and Sree remembered that. Sometimes, when she knew for sure that we would be here, she would bring along her famous prawn curry for us to eat with rice.

Sree knew her well, because she lived right next to his family home. She looked after him when he was a child, when his parents were busy working during the day. Out of the three of us, her loss hit Sree the hardest. //

I remembered, the day she died, none of us could bring ourselves to head inside the cemetery for her burial. So instead, we just sat here on our bench and watched the herd of people surrounding her coffin, as they buried her into the ground, and placed her right next to her husband. She was at peace.

I held Sree’s hand as I remembered that day in that moment, while sitting on that bench. Jay was still busy carving our names, so the two of us decided we’d head inside and put those flowers at Mrs. Mascarenhas’ stone.

I let Sree walk ahead, and left him alone as he remembered her, gave him the room if he wanted to shed a tear, and watched him from a distance. He then beckoned me by his side, where we stood holding hands, and just looking at the stones, remembering her and her infamous prawn curry which was always filled with love.

Through the corner of my eye, I saw Jay standing up. It seemed he was done carving our names, and was making his way towards the cemetery. But when he was near the gates from where he could see us, he stopped walking. I looked at him directly this time, with a questioning glare, wondering why he stopped walking.

I noticed his eyes were looking hard at my hand which was laced with Sree’s hand. I looked at our hands, and then back at Jay, and then somehow instinctively, I let go of Sree’s hand. Jay contemplated for a second, but then I waved at him to call him to stand beside us. That’s when he started walking again.

Sree looked at me for a split second with confusion, but then saw Jay coming in and then understood. I’m not sure what he understood, or why did I let go of his hand just because Jay was coming in, but it was a very strange feeling.

Me and Sree knew there was something between us, some sort of a connection, which was in many ways deeper than the one we shared with Jay. But we weren’t ready to explore it because we didn’t live in the same city. Both of us just assumed that a long-distance romantic relationship would hurt even more than a long-distance friendship.

On the other hand, we were also not ready for the world to know, especially not Jay, because we knew he would flip out if he found out about us. We felt bad enough to abandon him in Nagpur and leave for different cities.

So, in that moment, the three of us just stood there, looking at Mrs. Mascarenhas’ grave, churning somewhat the same dilemma in our minds: what happens next, and when would the three of us would ever be in the same place together again.

And now, after almost seven years ago, the names that Jay carved into the wall that day were here, all intact. And the memory of that day, which was the start of everything that drifted us apart, was all still etched in my brain.

Thank you for reading this excerpt. I hope you guys liked it. Any feedback, suggestions, corrections, any constructive critiscism is always welcome. Please let me know in the comments.

Tune in again on Thursdays as well as just Mondays, because I decided to write twice a week from now on. I am having too much fun writing here.

Until then, au revoir! <3

It’s so great, isn’t it? The mind of a 23-year-old woman, just out of uni and carrying big dreams that crumble before her in just a few months; and then it takes her about 2-3 years for her to rise from the ashes…

As always, I’ll see you soon. Until then, I hope you keep reading…

… the blue diary xx

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