Restful (or Less?)

24 hours in a day – How royally do I waste it?

Sometimes, I manage to draw some semblance of good out of my day. I ate healthy, I had a stimulating conversation, I delivered a good piece of work, I worked out, I wrote something, I ran errands, I cooked a great lunch. Whatever. Something to make me feel good that I didn’t let the day go waste.

Nothing to write home about.

Many nights, even though the sleep comes easy, I find myself wondering what on earth did I accomplish in the 16 waking hours of my life that day beyond browsing Etsy and Buzzfeed! (No offence to either). What’s the word I yearn to use?

Constructive. Or Productive.

Funnily (or not), I hesitate to use those words out loud. Story time: I was 15 and on a school trip – an overnight to a village in Rajasthan. We were sitting at this spot all afternoon. Gossiping and playing cards. I became restless with the inactivity when there was a world to explore outside the guesthouse (or so I imagined). I just voiced out this one line in frustration, “Let’s just go and do something constructive, guys”. I never heard the end of whatever came through the laughter. The boring studious girl had spoken the boring studious lines as usual. Even my close friends couldn’t help a chuckle.

Till date, I am surprised by how easily that mildly mortifying feeling comes back to gnaw at me.

The point of my rambling is that I always get restless if I have not done SOMETHING! I can’t just let things go. Even on a holiday, I cannot relax and keep feeling wasteful. I wonder about the dozen things I could have done differently, to show something for my time and leave behind a piece of worthiness. To whom, is a very good question!

I don’t know. I don’t have any answers. Just a long list of could haves, should haves and would haves.

Put me out of my misery, will you?

Journey #writephoto


It will always be about you and you alone,

However extensive, immersive and convoluted the path maybe

In the end, only you can face the song of your salvation.


A journey that has twisted and broken the bones,

Before spitting you out into the wild

Demands a resolution that only you can surface.


Time has come to confront your destination,

To leave behind all traces of society and civilization

To embrace an old friend you stopped running from.

After a long time, joining the Thursday writephoto prompt at Sue’s



The wounds sneak up slowly.

The blade and the belt catch you unaware,

On the precipice of the cliff

And the free fall into the churning tides.


You don’t recognize the relief you seek.

Is it from the intense sting of your welts?

Or from the powerful current you can never take on?

Or from the pointed rocks that tempt you to end it all….

Life of a Shadow

I arrived out of nowhere.

Hazy and formless I flitted over the surface,

Racing over fields and streaking over rivulets.

It was a wriggle, a walk, a sprint and a swim,

My personal kind of marathon.


Gradually but surely I was gaining form,

My lines became clearer and my steps became wiser.

I learnt to tread lightly on water,

But place my foot firmly on land,

And hold my breath while climbing tree tops.


With time, I turned dense and unyielding,

My heartbeats struggled to keep up.

But the last leg needed the best I could give,

I raced on,

Bearing witness to my emerging form.


Chasing and running away,

It was when I took my last breath,

When I finally met my creator

And was laid to rest.

I became myself.

The journey from nothing to something to everything. Life is not a circle – it is the most curved straight line one can think of. Inspired by a dancing shadow of a cloud.


It is slow. It is painful. It is unavoidable. It is welcome.

I am bending to the will of the increasing warmth of the sun. The clouds have broken through in a glorious display of song and dance, the memories of the frost all but forgotten. It feels like waking up from a long, tormented sleep where even nightmares would have been welcome instead of the blank lifeless vacuum that held no concept of meaning.

The blood is running through my fingers again as I furiously set the pen to paper. Doodles make way to letters and then somehow, magically, unfathomably, the letters are turning to words. I am afraid to stop writing lest the sunshine gets lost and I get frozen – suspended back into the land of the long winter.

Oh! I have missed being here. I have missed giving reign to my thoughts. I have missed the joy of not knowing which words my fingers might bleed. I have missed being envious of the brilliance of fellow bloggers and writers. I have missed being inspired.

It has been a long journey to open my blog again. For months I was contemplating, but I couldn’t turn it into a task. This place was always about choice, about joy and about freedom. I was loathe to make it into something akin to duty. My mind was numb. It was all about laundry lists and action items in the long journey of settling down which somehow never seemed to happen. It has been almost a year since I moved to Toronto and yet, my mind took its sweet time into making the city its own.

I don’t know when this city became home but I will tell you when I realized it – last Sunday. D and I took our first long vacation since moving here and got back on Sunday. That is when I equated the end of the vacation with coming back home. My condo and my city was what I wrapped around myself with a sense of comfort and security. This in turn, encouraged me to welcome myself back into my second home – this place 🙂

Let the good times begin! Happy Summer everyone 🙂 How have you been?