An ode

Of all the pain this heart has felt.
It is you,
that hurts the most.
My fingers falter.
Words stop at my throat.
An involuntary sensation grips me.

I have a blood clot in my heart, you see.
The blood that rushed for you.



I no more define myself
as a girl with words.
Rather, I now define myself,
as a woman with none.
as I struggle to pen down
this deep anxiety.
This pain unfulfilled.
This insecurity,
of what I used to be
and what I see myself becoming..
I find myself,
looking.. for words.

That were once my only friends.
that understood the turmoil of my heart.
On a lonely night,
with only the moon for company, staring hungrily.
It is words,
that made me look at it, differently.
I saw the light in the dark.
A dream in the nightmares.
I saw truth –
in the lies that the day was made of.

Words, oh words.
They filled me up..

I would go on a romantic rendezvous with it,
Smiling to myself.
Speaking a language
only we understood.
Occasionally, trying to find,
the depth larger than us.
My lips twitching,
at a revelation..

It is no magic,
nor a metaphor for poetry.
For I know it is real.
It was real –
when the world disappeared around us,
and we waltzed through the chattering crowd.
Laughing and crying.
Smiling and wondering.
Just happy enough, to know..
that we had each other..

We always had each other..

As I sit by myself.
Smoking a cigarette,
watching the embers
burn on my lips.
Nostalgia of the once, lonely nights,
fills my heart with gratitude again..

I no more look for words to give me company.
When the moon stares hungrily,
I no more waltz in the crowded streets,
looking for depth in the meaningless chatter.
I no more laugh or cry,
smile or wonder,
under the starry nights.
I no more look for truth,
amidst the lies..

For I am no more,
The girl with words.
Rather a woman
with none..


What is it about you?
What is it about you, sunset?

Every time under your warm shade
A forgotten question goes answered
All that is lost
All that is about to go
Seems so trivial under your might

What is it about you, sunset?
For, you are a poem
A moment of realisation
You come from the endless mumbling thoughts within
From the ultimate abyss of
For, you are a tear
A silent cry
A painful journey.
You are the end
And you are the beginning.

What is it about you, sunset?
For, it has been a while,
since I felt so alive 

What is it about you?
That makes me realise
Of a life less lived
Every time.


I miss you.

The way your tender hands caress me
Comforting that everything will be okay.
When on a dark, gloomy day,
You take in all the fury, the vanity and the insane
The way you calmly shrug at my own disdain
the way you say,
“It doesn’t matter, it never will.
For I love you and I always will.”

“Fat” or “Fit”?

Hi everyone,
My friends. My family. My acquaintances.
I write this post because I love you all and hence feel that I must officially inform you guys that I have PUT ON WEIGHT.

Yes, that horrendous thing that one must never become I have become that. My jeans are a few inches tighter on my hips, my face looks rounder than oval and flesh can be seen in my arms. Hence, I am just using the lingo that everybody seems to  be more comfortable using – and notifying my dear ones that I have become “fat”. And before you make that pitiful face and go on to asking me “Why have I become SO fat!”, I just want you to know that – I don’t care.

I know what it feels like to feel fat. I know what it feels like growing up, with people around you – pointing out that extra weight on your hips, your arms, your waist, your face, your neck – wherever their scrutinising eyes could reach. And making cumulative assessment of your figure, they would go on to give tips about “fixing it”. Exercise. Stop eating junk. Drink lemon water. Then they would gleefully go back to their lives, finally having done something productive with their day – leaving a child, insecure and miserable. So, I know what it feels like to feel fat. And I say, “feel” – because I was never fat. I was healthy and bulky, which is my normal body type and I was made to feel that that was not a good figure. The good figure is one, with no flesh, bones sticking out, toned hands and legs and stomach and hips. So, I grew up convinced that I did not have that ideal figure. My “thunder thighs” definitely did not fall in that category.

But I aimed for it. I exercised day and night. That’s all I thought about. I wanted a perfect figure. I wanted to prove everybody wrong. I wanted to lose all the extra  weight and look super pretty! Eyes would turn for me, I thought. I wanted to walk like  Poo (from K3G) in my college. So, basically I lost a lot of weight.

The funny thing was –

I was close to a flat stomach (yea, that never happened) and my thighs were poles apart – but I always felt fat. Always felt insecure. No matter, how much I starved, how much I did yoga, exercised – I was never thin enough. But here’s the real catch. Now that I have become “Fat” (according to a lot of people in my life) – I don’t feel it. I don’t feel fat.

I feel happy. I feel satisfied. I feel healthy. I eat good food, I sleep well, I work very hard and I know that my job requires me to expend a lot of my energy and my time for it – and I don’t mind. I feel accomplished. Every morning, I wake up with the most wonderful heartbeat throbbing against me – something that I had never experienced before. I feel free. I feel secure. I feel fit. And I feel powerful.

So, I guess I am better off with that extra weight on me.

This post is not an answer to my friends calling me fat. You could call me a buffalo, for all you want. (But I know you would rather call me a hippopotamus) But this is a post, in which I wished to say that being fit is of utmost importance. Happiness, satisfaction, mental peace – comes from being fit. But that insecurity lying deep within us, does not make us fit. It makes us weak, vulnerable and I have seen in many cases, it can even lead to depression.

I  just hope that there will come a time, when kids would not have a scarred childhood because of their weight. I just hope that someday people will understand that everybody has a different body type and to truly care, is to accept them the way they are and see beyond the hallmark of beauty set out there. I just hope that someday, calling somebody fat would not be an insult, but rather just a statement that wouldn’t scream of the society’s fuck up of this “idea of a good figure”.

Till then, lets just understand that – people don’t like being called fat. It brings back the memory of unnecessary insecurity of so many – and that too, for no good reason, but just because you were stupid enough to say it without much thought.

Merry christmas everybody!
To a healthy, lovely life ahead of us.
Santa Claus is also fat. Be like Santa Claus.
Cheers! ❤

Show up

Show up, show up, show up, and after a while the muse shows up, too.

~Isabel Allende

“To look life in the face and to know it”

Lately I have been having doubts about the decisions that I have taken in my life. Most of them are career oriented. I keep asking myself, have I been doing this right? Am I lost? Do I not know what I want to do next? I have been so confused at my own confusion and – I understand when that is related to love problems – but work? Wow. I never thought I would be confused about work. I thought I knew exactly what I wanted to do. And then something happened that is pretty much inevitable in general term called “life”. Change.

Now, I am a kind of person who loves change! I hate monotonous life. I just hate it. Its not like everyday needs to be unique or something but I have known myself to not handle routine life in a row. It gets me all worked up about how useless my life is, while people in Instagram have so much more exciting things to do.

That blabber aside – its been tough. And my workplace is not really a kind of place where you have the liberty to share your concerns such as these. You see – when you are in the film industry – you are here because of your passion. That’s it. Doubting the work you do (not the project) is almost like doubting your passion and that is looked down upon! I understand that. I have been judgmental in the past too. But since, that’s the past – I am not going to JUDGE myself about it anymore.

So after a lot of pent up emotions inside, I finally decided to share it with someone who I felt was trust-able and probably not judgmental. And I did. In the process of explaining it to this very kind woman (and an amazing writer!), I found myself asking her – if all this is worth it? She spent a lot of time listening to my woes and after some discussion I was finally able to understand my dilemma. So, I decided to not beat my head over it and wait for the right time and then do the right thing – as per the passion commands. But the question that I asked her, really bothered me! I mean – I did not know if being in one of the best places of the industry and getting to learn from the best people in the industry – was worth it or not? That’s scary. What do I want? I asked myself. And there was no answer. For a person, who is always so sure of herself and the decisions that she takes – this is sort of a panic attack.

And then I woke up this morning, did my one routine that I don’t get sick of doing – I made tea. (When I do get sick of it – I order it from the dairy downstairs. But its still the most routine of all the things I do. Don’t even get me started on my bowel movements!) Anyway – so I made tea and started reading a book. I had an hour to go to office and I always need some time for myself before I go to work – that’s the only way I can function in a normal manner for the rest of the day. So, I was reading this book and I had a sudden urge to write something. I immediately took my diary from my bedside drawer, my pen from the pen stand on the bedside drawer and settled myself on the huge cushion for my back, on the bed. And I looked outside – it was raining.

My windows are big. When I had taken up this house – that was all that I was sold with – the ample amount of windows in my house that led to a magnificent view of the greenery outside. That’s a tough gain in Mumbai and I can’t stop bragging about it. I looked at those trees outside and in the rain, the light green looked lighter and the dark green looked even more darker. What contrast! Their barks, so deep brown – were flaunting their beautiful scars. And it came to me, in the most poetic way possible. The answer to my question – this is why its all worth it. 

I might not have a lot of time for myself, but when I do – its all mine. I am not worried about the next project because I am safe at this point. So, at this point – I can keep looking out of the window and remember how satisfying life is. Unless of course I lose my job and then I will have to worry – but until I don’t – I have this moment. I can pay my rent. I can pay for my groceries. I have a bedside drawer (Its important. I paid for it!). I have a space for myself that is my own and I might not have all the time in the world to think – but I have everything I need to sustain for myself – so that whenever I get the time, I have all the means to THINK. And I wouldn’t trade this for ANYTHING else in this entire world!

Yes. I am here because of my passion for films. But that does not mean that that part of me will always be satiated. And the last thing I want to do is pretend that it does. It won’t. Its very important to do what we love and its even more important to not make it a habit. We don’t want to end up eating snacks and be full by the time dinner’s ready. How will we enjoy our dinner otherwise? (imagine a high pitched squeaky voice saying that)

I realized that we tend to create a projection of our enlarged selves and then pose it to be real. We actually believe that people don’t see it. And we keep doing it because it tends to make us stronger, so we get quite convinced that that image is true. I don’t want to be captured in that image of myself. I don’t want to be captured in the philosophies and the wisdom of the philosophers. I want their wisdom to help me grow, not stunt it. I want it to make me powerful, not weak.

Like in the book, “The Hours” by Michael Cunningham,Virginia Woolf writes to her husband:

  “Dear Leonard. To look life in the face. Always to look life in the face and to know it for what it is. At last to know it. To love it for what it is, and then, to put it away.”

A part of my life felt simpler today. And hence, the urge to share.

❤ 🙂