Hello darling, how are you?

Dear You,

I’m writing with the hope that you’re fine and well, alive enough to read my letter. Alive not just physically, in a way that your heart is beating fine and your organs are working just the way they should. But alive enough to soak in the wonder that is all around you.

So you’ve had your heart broken, wouldn’t really be the first time, would it? Will it be the last? Perhaps. Maybe not.
Don’t sulk, isn’t a broken heart a sign of one that was loved anyway? I didn’t make that up, I read it somewhere.
That’s where I get my wisdom from these days — conversations of strangers, random comments by people on social media and some very old books.
Strange places to find solace, isn’t it? Not the books though, they always find a way to soothe my weary soul.

Sorry, I have a way of losing track.
So, while the world seems like a terrible place to live in, especially now that you’re nursing a broken heart, I want to remind you to be a little more kind to everyone. But you’ll first have to start with yourself.
Allow yourself to cry, and when you feel like you can’t breathe anymore, gently remind yourself that you can, you will and you already are.

Be strong, be kind and be gentle.
Say please, thank you and sorry when you have to.
Wash your feet and face before going to bed.
And remember you might feel broken right now,
But you’ve never been more whole.

I woke up like this

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It’s morning and the sun is rising slowly, at its own pace.
But that annoying myna is back in the balcony, cheerfully calling out to God-knows-who.

I wake up with this insane need to see you. The feeling, similar to my body’s aching need for caffeine. It’s quiet at home, the cool morning summer breeze sneaks in through the opening underneath the door and I rush for cover.

I want to tell you the things that I feel about you, but I chicken out like always. So I’m whispering it into this abyss. Into this space where words are either lost forever or remain etched for eternity.

Life, currently, seems more smeared with fingerprints than my spectacles. But you seem to know just how to make things clear and better, I dare say.

It’s strange to know that someone looks at all this madness and is crazy enough to say, “Well it looks like a lot of work. But do I want to go on this journey that might or might (definitely will) not plunge me into greater depths of craziness? Well, yes I do.”

Sometimes I wonder if all of this is a dream, what if this is my brain playing a ruthless prank on me….
And then, I suddenly realise this is real because,
That annoying myna is back in the balcony.

New Girl goes to Muscat

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I really believed that I would never be the new girl again. Not in an office or in anyone’s life. Yes I had decided to remain single and jobless for the rest of my life, but life, apparently, had other plans.
While I spent the last nine months whiling away my life, I barely had any worries. Well, other than that one totally-justifiable fear of a dumbbell falling and crushing me instantly. Yes, tragic indeed. So as I went through life, travelling, eating and upping my stalking skills, little did I know that  my days of joblessness were sadly numbered.
Before I knew it, 28 years of my life were neatly folded, packed and stuffed in three suitcases and one bag. All threatening to burst out, thankfully not doing so. Some tears, a failed attempt at running back home and three hours later I was in a new city, in a new country.
Far, far away from home.
It’s just been a week since I moved here and I’ve realised that life has been crazy, but also exceptionally kind to me in so many ways. But on a few quiet evenings, when the sun is getting ready to set, I think of home. I miss every small annoying detail and I wonder, if three suitcases and one bag are all that I have to show for 28 years of existing. But then I remember that I did leave a dozen other clothes at home, so there obviously is more.
On other days I’m busy practising how to behave like an adult, how to socialise with people and smile, even though I’m panicking six ways to Sunday (or Friday, because #Muscat).
Through all of these ups and downs, I realised that I’m capable of so much more and that I can be anything I want to…
But for now (and for the unforeseeable future)
I am the New Girl.

Back to the future

Dear You,

If I tell you that a year from now you’d quit your job, take a break and travel across the world, would you believe me? Well, maybe you should. Because you’re going to do just that.

2017 could seem like just another year but it will make you brave. You will learn that there is no greater joy than standing up for what you believe in and asking for what you need. And when you realise that love, happiness and peace no longer features on the menu, you will politely move on.

Moving on, however, won’t be easy. It’ll bring with it moments of doubt, sadness and complete chaos. But you don’t have to worry, because it is only when you fall that you learn to look where you’re going. You will understand this soon, but I must tell you, there is no shame in putting yourself first. No shame in leaving behind things and people that no longer make you happy. You are after all your first priority, everything and everyone should come later.

This year, you will learn to be kind and loving to the one person who matters the most – you. It won’t be an easy process, but loving someone never really is. However, you’ll manage to strike up a friendship with yourself and it’ll be the best thing to ever happen.

Don’t ever doubt that you will be loved. You always were, you always will. You might be difficult to love, but not impossible. And there are people who always love a challenge, no?

You must and you will learn to see people for who they really are. Don’t let their judgements cloud you and don’t let harsh words break your spirit. Take a break from toxic people and if the break doesn’t work, cut them out of your life.

This year will bring you closer to people you love a lot but can’t find the means to express it. Hold on to that feeling, it’ll keep you warm.

And while you sit here right now, thinking about how life is going to pan out, I’ll leave you with one last clue. 2017 might keep you at home, but when the year ends, you’ll have to get ready for a new adventure. A fresh beginning, one that involves moving to a new country.

So don’t waste your time worrying about the future, what’s meant to happen simply will. Accept your losses and celebrate your victories, and remember whatever happens you will always be enough for yourself.

Love always,
P

The sense of an ending.

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I knew it was long overdue. 
But please give me the benefit of doubt, I was, to simply put it… scared. 

So I re-read the chapter. Feeling every word, letting each emotion cut through me. This time, allowing flowers to bloom in deserts and letting rivers (that shouldn’t have been there in the first place) go dry. 
And then, once again, I arrived at the last word and the last punctuation mark of the chapter. 

I had two choices:
1) To re-read all of it again.
2) To move on to the next chapter.

I sat there, unable to fight the tears, running my fingers through the now faded words and memories. In that moment, I met the love that got lost somewhere and all those emotions that were hidden under every full-stop.

But, it was time.
And so,
I turned the page.

What’s in a name?


I always made up new names for you. When you’d shrug and roll your eyes in annoyance (and I’d like to think you were faking it), I’d ask you, “really, what’s in a name? You, by any other name would still be as adorable”. You’d roll your eyes again.

Now, when I spot your name on hoardings, in magazines or as the name of the most absurd character on television, it floods my heart with sadness.

Your name. I say it out aloud sometimes, just to remember how it felt.
Your name. A seemingly ordinary one, something I wouldn’t have ever taken notice of before. 
But now, every time someone says it out aloud I turn to look for you. Hoping to find your familiar eyes that once made me smile endlessly.

What’s in a name, you ask?
Everything and then suddenly,
Nothing at all.

Someday over the rainbow. 

What would it be to finally receive some closure?

Would it come to me as an epiphany? Suddenly, like a mid-summer storm, on a holiday across lands and seas? Would it feel like the dark, heavy clouds gave way to some bright sunshine that suddenly lifted the gloom in my life? Of course, you’re not going to answer my questions.

I sometimes impatiently wait for it, just like I once did for you. Heavy with anticipation, eyes not moving from the door for even a second, lest you walk in and I miss that glorious sight. But wait, how is this about you? This is about me and my quest to find some peace for what we once had and what we now do not.

The thoughts in my head, the words that don’t seem to leave me alone and you… all feel like a terrible mix and I can’t seem to contain it anymore. The former find a way to get out, strewn carelessly sometimes through letters and blogs.  But you? You refuse to budge.

It feels like I’m going to war, so I wear an armour to protect myself from thoughts of a happier time. There is no use, because the memories start playing, in bright colours, laughter echoing  while sunlight flitters in and out of your room and you rush to hold me. Then the movie pauses. I pull back the armour on and walk out.

There is no peace now, but someday on the shores of another foreign city when the setting sun gives way to the night, it’ll probably come to me.
Maybe that day I’ll watch that movie without flinching, perhaps I’ll even clap, whistle and cheer when the credits roll.
And maybe that day  I’ll get my closure.

Things we need to talk about. 

I never liked empty spaces, hearts or homes.
So I started filling them both.
A couch here, a person there, a coffee table where it wasn’t needed,
a lover when there was space for none.

In hindsight it wasn’t the room full of things that bothered me.
Rooms could be filled and emptied, things could be bought and sold.

But people… people were the problem.
They came at their will sometimes, and that was all right.
It was their leaving that I  never recovered from.

Dear diary.

I didn’t know what I was doing and where I was heading to. I simply existed. I did all the essential things that had to be done to survive.

On a few occasions I’d forget to breathe, other times I’d deliberately hold my breath to see how far I could go, until my mother would come asking what I wanted for dinner. And you don’t ignore her. Sometimes, I think that was what brought me back to reality, her questions and the heady smell of garlic she often used to cook, two things that I grudgingly grew to love.

The incessant chatter of my parents was often drowned by the chirping of the birds (that would wake me up in the morning). I never understood why they had to sound so cheerful, even though they might just be talking about how annoying the day is.

Sometimes I’d just watch the world go by, dawn to dusk, dusk to dawn. I’d fall asleep in between, waking up to a slightly confused state of mind. ‘What day is it?’, I’d wonder, ‘Am I home?’, was what often followed.

It seemed like a rather monotonous way to live,
But maybe, just maybe, that was what I needed to do.
To simply exist for a while.