Flipping through the pages of my diary

I don't think I ever stopped writing, I just think poetry stopped visiting me. I think it must have found someone better, Who can grasp words like no one else, Who can express emotions no one felt. I think poetry forgot my home. I think I no longer long for its visit. I think nothing much anymore— I feel nothing more, More than the name the tip of my tongue holds, But dares never call. I think I feel exasperated, Trying to write something I don't know. Bonds of yesterday have gone, Like mist in the morning. I have been sipping tea every afternoon. Poetry has left my lanes. I have nothing more to conclude. I have lived a life of fun. Now, when the time comes, I must bid goodbye to those who are gone. This is the only lesson of life I must learn. This is the night I realized, When my heart noticed this silence howling for too long. There are no words on the sheets— None in my heart, none in my head. Poetry must have left my home, And all my diaries, one evening. So I sit with no ...

Someone asked me recently, “How do you want the world to remember you?” But why must the world remember me? I believe it doesn’t need to. Human memory is broad. Human memory is too short. So, don’t remember me. Remember yourself. Remember who you truly are. The world need not remember me. Nobody has to. There’s no compulsion, and I don’t wish to be remembered. I wish to be free. Forget me like the last rain, forget me like the lost train, forget me like the morning dew, forget me like the broken cage. Just forget me. Forget me in peace. But if, by one’s own volition, someone remembers me, then let them remember me as if I were never gone.

There’s a little café hidden in the countryside, tucked away in narrow alleys that twist along the ocean lanes. If you keep walking, you’ll eventually stumble upon it. It sits so close to the sea that sometimes I wonder—isn’t it scary? And yet, at other times, isn’t it such a blessing? There are barely six tables inside, and it feels less like a café and more like a secret gem you only discover when you’ve been lost long enough. There are hardly any customers. Whenever I’m here in the countryside, I always come back, because my heart whispers it won’t be long before it closes forever. Sometimes I imagine it was opened just to soothe the loneliness of the old granny who runs it—but maybe that’s only in my head. Still, the tintinnabulation of the windchimes every time I enter settles into my heart. I always sit by the window, order my favorite Pad Thai, a side of Tempura, Pickled Vegetables, and end with Mochi. I watch the evening sky soften while the ocean offers its last restless glimp...

Really, there are types of warmth. Exactly there are. The first type is that which burns so fast and leaves so quick — just in the blink of an eye. You will never know what to do. You will never know when to surrender. You will always be half a foot inside and half outside the door, because it's so confusing, it's so much to bear all at once. But it's always dreamy, it's always unreal. It's always too good to be true.  The second type is the one that only burns to burn you all. It engulfs you inside. It leaves  you only with scars, burns, and ashes. It leaves you like never before. It leaves you with more pain than healing. It takes away more than it ever offered. You are just like a moth reaching the candle flame, not knowing it will take away your soul. And the third type is, like yours — sacred — It burns slow, but forever long. The type that never goes away, no matter what. The type that won’t scare you through its intensity. The type that doesn’t burn your soul...

Sometimes I just wanted to tell someone, "I missed you. I missed you so much that it felt like the world continued moving forward without me. It felt like I was stuck somewhere and nobody cared to help me out. I could witness the embers of our love and the shambles of our memories. I missed you so much that my heart yearned in all different languages nobody understood. I tried to write them down, but I was terrified it wouldn't make sense to anyone. But even if you don't understand poetry or literature, I won't mind that. Just understand my feelings. Just understand these three words. They are more burdening than 'I love you.' It made my heart sink every second. I missed you. I missed you so much. This is all. Just listen to my heart. Just listen to these three words." Love only makes me sad yet my desire to be loved never ends. 

I recently started listening more to people than speaking. I realized people do have fun stories to narrate. But most of them live in their past. They tell me about their past — how was their childhood, their first love, school days, and summer vacations. But I want to know who they are now, who they are sitting in front of me. They nowhere tell about these things. But one can still tell just by listening to them. Just look at them when they speak — how their body calms, how their body stiffs, how their hands move, how they breathe, where they hesitate, where their eyes brighten up, where their smile falls, where their voice is the loudest, where it's mellow, where they sigh, and where they smile the most. I realized the worst you can say while consoling someone is, "Don't cry, please." And the best you can say is not to utter anything. When they cried amidst their stories, I just watched them. Because I am really bad at consoling. I knew if I started consoling, we wo...

Sometimes I say phrases like, "I miss you," and my brain steps in, asking if I really do miss the person or just the feeling I felt. How much of an injustice it would be to your soul if I accept that I only miss the feeling of having you, of feeling less lonely in this world, and then crawl back to you, telling you how much I missed you. This is wrong to your heart, but my heart really craves that feeling — the feeling of being loved, of witnessing what gentle masculinity is, of feeling how loving a man can be in a world where dads only scream. I know it’s wrong to return to someone just for the feeling, not for the person, and so I choose to remain in this corner of the world — not trying to write you letters, not trying to make you feel how my world has fallen apart since you left. But isn't it crazy? How much our minds rationalize our feelings — our hearts. If only I could hear the deafening noise of my heart saying, "I miss you," while completely shutting do...

You know, meeting him felt like I was buying a home. And a property dealer came into my life, and he told me that the home he was going to show me was very beautiful. It had big windows, it had a beautiful porch, it had a beautiful room, and there were three to four rooms. You know, it was very spacious — but not so spacious that you’d feel lost inside. It was cozy in a way that you’d find belonging there, you’d find love there, you’d feel like returning back there. It was warm, it was kind, it was a compassionate place where you could be you, where you would love. And every time he talked about that house, he showed me some pictures of it, and I was like, “Oh my god, oh my god, yes, I like it, I like it, I like it.” He kept talking about that house. He sent me one or two pictures, but for 11 days he told me about that house — more about that house. The paint, the color, the texture, the walls, the roof, the garden, the doors, the windows, the bed, the wardrobe — everything. The kitche...

Just write, write, and write, but don't say it out to the world. It will spread like fire. I miss someone, but I will never confess it again. Life will go on, they say, whether you love or miss someone. I will believe it with the whole of my heart. Life goes on because hope makes us believe it. You will always notice—at least in my life—I have always written for you at nights. Wonder why you knock on my door only then? You come for me when the world goes to sleep, when the moon comes out, when tides go up. You are also in love—at least that's what my heart said secretly to my mind before choosing to love you more. Life is nothing more than you, me, and ghazals at night on my retro radio. I think we should remember: love is not about conquering, but it is about remembering. And I shall forever remember you, even if I, by fault, fall again for someone new. You taught my soul to love myself more. You taught me solitude—it’s all love can truly embrace, or people call it lonely. I a...

There have been great poets at mind, at heart but not at paper. Words they wished to say, never came down their throat. It evolved in their mind, died in there too. I thought what I feel will make a profound impact in my world. How big were my feelings. It all came all at once, conquering my heart. But among 2 trillion galaxies, each with trillions of stars, i m here in one galaxy  perhaps that too with no exact plan and just a mere coincidence. So how am I supposed to believe that my feelings were ever too big, ever too profound when i realize i am too small in this vast universe. Since then i lost in touch with my feelings, with my heart. I am no longer serious when I am hurt or when I am happy.  Why did we take ourselves so seriously ?  It makes no sense, atleast not to me anymore.

When people you have known for so long leave, they leave with so much more than just your name in their heart or your favorite midnight dumpling recipe in their head. They take away all your experiences, all your secrets, all your plans, all your dreams. They know how you get excited watching rain patter on your roof. They know how you smile at the sky watching stars. They know which color looks the best on you. They know your first crush from high school. They know how good you are at making stories. They know you suck at pretending. They know you can't go a day without breakfast. They know you doze off by 10 PM. They know you hate nightouts and movies at nights because your body clock is too punctual. They know your hobbies on a random Sunday afternoon. They know the places you feel home at. They know the phone numbers you’ve memorized but are scared to dial. They know the lullabies in your playlist because there have been nights you struggled to sleep. They know how much you spe...

I just feel like if only I could see the stillness in every moment. If only I could stop rushing—on the way back home, on the way to college. If only I could take my meals more slowly, feel every breath filling my lungs. If only I could just lay in bed and gaze at the rooftop. If only, when I speak, I do so with calmness. If only I could let go of all the hurry in my life. Then, I guess, that would be my dream life. I have realized how much I love being at home, how much I love being at peace. I have recognized the moment when loneliness starts to merge with solitude.  I have realized that the greatest form of love I could ever find in this world is the love I hold for myself.  I have found solace and serenity in every passing moment—to be in it fully, with open eyes and an open heart, to not worry about the future, to not dwell in the past. What a life to live. What a life. A life I am living right now. I’m happy for me. I’m happy for myself. –2025 February song

I had all the right words, but I was mute. So, I wrote them down. But he was blind. So, I made someone else read them to him. But he didn’t know my language. Now, he had something to say. But when he spoke, he forgot. Later, he remembered, so he wrote them down. But I didn’t understand what it meant. And the cycle continued.

I just realized it that people dont change. Because we are all just walking museums of our past wounds, traumas, promises of our ex lovers, learnt coping mechanisms of our childhood, insecurities and neglected emotional needs when we were too young to ever understand the consequences of it. So, If someone doesn't change for you, or their behavior that triggered you or the pattern that you only wished could be eradicated from this relationship then everything would have worked well or you wished your anxious heart could just stop messing it all, but the truth is people dont change and trust me you can't change someone if they dont want to change for you. Hope is an addictive pill. You hope for one more chance and everything will actually change, everything will work. But this is how years go in vain and you should stop doing it now. Sometimes just listen to your heart and you will know it all – why it never worked. This was supposed to be my last text to him but often it's b...

Life Is Like a Box of Chocolates When people ask, How can I be happy? they often forget that they celebrate happiness but rarely sit with sadness. You don’t have to glorify sadness, but you can acknowledge it, accept it, and let it be. Most of our unhappiness comes from trying to fix things that aren’t in our control—holding onto a perfect version of life that doesn’t exist. Life is like a box of chocolates, filled with different experiences. Imagine you have a box with 50 types of chocolates. You try one—it’s good, but not great. The next one? Amazing. You love it. Excited, you try a third—it’s creamy, deep, and just your type. You wonder why you didn’t get this one first. But that’s life. You had to go through two chocolates before finding this one. Then comes the fourth—it’s rich, smooth, and makes you happy. But when you try the fifth, it’s bitter and ruins your taste. Do you stop there? Do you cry and decide you don’t deserve good chocolates? No. You don’t lock yourself in a room,...

You spend so much time into chaos, drama, with some people, and situations in your life, that you feel this is what life and love feels like. Unless you meet someone one day, where there is no drama,  there is no constant surviving mode, no unnecessary fights, no fear, no anxiety. There is just understanding that flows through, where there is no over explanations, where there is no fear of abandonment, rather it's just peace, it's just compassion, empathy, love, respect,  calmness, and a lot of stability. It is then you realize that it's not the butterflies in your belly that makes you feel loved, or that is the proof or evidence of being in love, but rather it's calmness, and feeling secure, and feeling safe with someone around you, that you are not hyperactive, and you're not shivering, you're not nervous, and your health is not deteriorating but rather you're at peace with yourself, comfortable in your own skin, and more in love with yourself when they ar...

There are different kinds of love in this world like warm love, compassionate love, anxious love, avoidant love, secure love, emotionally fulfilling love, disappointing love, arrogant love, kind love, attentive love, sensitive love, joyful love, consistent love, inconsistent love, romantic love, passionate love, gentle love, fierce love, impatient love, burning love, calming love, silent love, loud love ...and the list will go on for long.  And despite of all these kinds, you will always get to choose the type of love you want, you need and feel deserving of. And I will always choose a love that will calm my nervous system, that will always make me feel emotionally safe, where everything is workable, where everything can be communicated with love. I will always choose a love that will sit by my side in silence too, a love that will assure me not with words adorned with love but one that is full of actions, a love where I don't have to prove my worth daily, a love which I dont have ...

I would always wonder why you and I, who were so fundamentally different, came together. You were always running away from me when you were upset, while I would run into you all the time, pestering you for what happened, asking you multiple times, and watching your silence speak to me. I always felt like the door was closed in my face when I tried to reach out to you because I don’t know what personal space means. And maybe more than that, my heart was scared that the door might never open again. I loved you so much that my soul wanted to transcribe every part of your soul so we would never fall into misunderstandings again. I thought maybe silence had its own language, and I would try to read it, but I couldn’t master it, and your silence ghosted me. My anger toward you often evaporated through tears falling down, and I never knew what to say because I had many words stuck in my throat, which never really aligned at their best to make sense. I was anxiously attached, and you had an av...