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Here’s a little something for you. A day. A heart wrapped in a sweatshirt. A cold winter with pecks of sunshine. The stardust falling off from your eyelashes like fairy glitters. The road filled the clatter of two souls, walking side by side. The street lights their perfect candle , perhaps a little brighter. Not enough stars to count in the wishes of a life falling off the subtle branch of potential. All the potential just turns into the ashes, sewn back into the earth like it finally belongs somewhere. Empty canvases filled with white, a colour unseen, a little delight. The chuckle of a mad man. Words. Tons of them. Futile promises of a long period of time. A thief. Stolen kisses. Never a heart. Pages. Pages, full of people, but not one alive. Time turner. Turns in time. Turned days into nights. A crawl into a stumble, a stumble into a walk, finally he ran. He ran so fast, that he leapt through dimensions. Parallel words where skies were brown. The sea was solid and the land melted down. Cinderella never lost her shoe, why would you part with something that fits you so well. Perfection was a myth. Or even so, is it? A small offering to my dearest writer’s block, XD

As I walk down the place, I wonder if I could capture it enough to remember. A part of me is scared of being used to it. When you're used to something, you stop noticing the details that make it pretty. It's like you stop playing with your toothpaste after a point in life. I want to capture it so much as to remember it. The way it feels like someone just threw a red colour over the sky, and trees and humans just looks like mere shadows of the dark. It all feels equal. It all feels blue and black. The little sparkles through the ebb, it's like seeing glitters through a painting. I wish I was a painter, and if I was I would be jealous of the person who made this art. I would think about every little thing they drew, and how can someone draw something so beautiful through the eyes of their mind? How can you?

I can see you in snowflakes. Each one of them just sit right in the palm of my hand, and other rests on my nose. Its melting, and the feeling of it feels warm. Its like having you shower from the sky. Having you shower all over me, slowly, and you then seeing you fade away, slipping away through me. I ! wish I could hold on to you a little longer, but then that would not be you. | And so | let you go, and wait for you to come around, every year. I could be your sunlight, but you, you always have to go, or I could be your darkness, and then , maybe just maybe, you'll stay. Wont you? Either ways, I will be yours and yours only.

I can't sit here and tell you that you could be loved. For I haven't been able to do it myself and it's useless to preach things, you do not do yourself. But humans are such a species,that all can be loved. Even the monsters get loved. Why can't you be, there's no way that is possible. -one side of slop Wrote this one fine evening. But since we talking about embracing the imperfections, I will do nothing about the imperfect grammar, or the way you don't even know who it is written to. Just plain lines that cut through your soul. Just them.

“Dreamgirl- Teenage Blue” This is the song that reminds me of the old-school romance I dreamt of as a kid. I thought love happens only once in life, and that people, stay a forever. More that someone is exactly the way to wanted them to be. This song feels like a stormy day. Everything seems amazing . Like a lullaby sung, a crib swong, everything moves back and forth,plants, trees, her hair, as if her scent is taken away by the wind. And you know it will never be back, but at this moment, it feels right. Been more of a listener lately, and that reminds me of how music unroots the heart. Will share some. Music and thoughts.

I can see her. We run and run, laugh and laugh. As if everything belongs to us and the world is like inverted greyscales. She turns and looks at me and I know she is the one. Waves I can see waves, footprints. Another tear she shed, a flower in her hair, an umbrella flying away,another free soul. Busy roads, stormy fields possessed by her loneliness. her hair, it flies, I let it. she is beautiful. Song that I thought about when I wrote this: CASTEBEAT- Change your mind Picture credits: from the movie Èmotion 1966

I didn't know I will be tackling a space deficit, from the I don't have clothesssss to wear to the I don't have any space to keep transit. It's can give competition to those Instagram reels, but it was slow and I never knew I would have to. But cheers! Adi needs to let go her 12th standard notes (that she made very beautifully). I do not understand the attachment or the 'possession ' thing. I know that I would be ready to rip the gills of any fish that dare put their fins on what's mine, be it things that I do not need or read anymore. It's weird. Maybe it's time I actually let go. No, not a maybe. It's definite. We are making space for the new. 9th standard crush's birthday card is not what you need to get through college!

THE ONLY TIME, A SERIES OF IRREGULAR PROMPTS #1 A long time after, fingers slipped, a chat with my old best friend. Dear diary, an ear for the ones, who want to speak, but are better with words, through the ink. A thousand secrets of adolescence, confessions of love, the lost age bundled up in sheets. This was a bookmarked page. A page, filled with a string of cupid’s wings and a lover's phase. Some drops of pearls had managed to make a mark on the yellow page, and there lay a heart. Just a heart, a little tattered, a little old, a little folded, like it has gone through generations waiting for the person. My name didn’t seem to vanish much. It’s still there in some imperfect words. A hand-cut heart out of a piece of red ,a chapter crafted with small hands, inking promises to always be there. And something was felt. The solace, of being wanted for once. And this is how I remember, the first.

# Reality check? I was walking around the street, in the corner was a bowl. A bowl full of sweets, so many. It looked like a treasure I could behold. Make them mine. A mere glance of the left and right and I approached it. My hand made it's way to insides, trying to fill my palm with as many delicacies it could gather. And it was all supposed to be mine- 000f dream. Reality check? I couldn't draw them out. Why? Because I wanted all-And you're about to give us a lecture on greediness right? No. It was because I wanted all. But the jar has this narrow head, and my hand would get stuck inside due the excessive mass. I opened my palm, releasing some. I picked out a few, sad about the ones I lost, forgetting about the ones I found.

# I Am Still Not Used To... I am still not used to typing your name and finding nothing. Our chat is stuck at November 12th,2018, where you last wrote pata nai . And till now I am trying to understand if that pata nai had something more that I couldn't understand, or failed to understand.It hurts. And it kinda does so much. You were this shard of peace, we owed to each other. From the mornings, where we spoke our sleepy thoughts to the nights were we slept listening the same damn song. It feels so hollow, and like someone just dug out a part of me from me. And I am ending up being nothing. And I kinda still wait at times...You promised that we'd go a long way, and I'd be the only thing you'd thank Instagram for.I guess I will do that too. But I am writing this, cause I don't write for people. And I had left that job years ago. And I am doing it again, and sadly, it's for you, and you won't be able to read this.

# Dear Diary #61 I am starting from right where I ended. And this is where I am. At 61 st. Which means there has been sixty times when life went breaking apart, creeping my nerves, filling me enough to write again. Don't misunderstand this with my other history, my poems and stories they'd really fill a different slot. But this. This is my place. I come here when I am sad, in pain or lonely. You're right. When I have no one,I come to you. Is that selfish? Cause, you don't leave. And people probably do. I am good with words, but not good with lies. Yeah, that's where I mess up. So, well say, when I want someone to stay for me. Do I really stay for someone? That's what it is, right? You're expecting people to stay for you, escape sleeps probably give you as their first priority. But give it a thought. Is there someone like you, probably expecting the same from you. And you don't reciprocate cause probably you don't want it. Why? Cause you don't feel something about this certain person the way you feel about some other person. And that becomes some entire love octagon. Triangle is just a baby. I am there for you when no one is there for me. I am not there for you when people are there for me. Yeah. That is what I call honesty. Don't be sweet, be honest. Be it. So that you don't end up on someone's Instagram status termed as#fake. Atleast it's better to be called rather mean and selfish. Right?In the end, we are all bad tales in someone's book, and what can we do about that? We keep doing it. And yeah. I am upset. Cause, I am a bad tale.

# I Don't Own You.. I miss the way we started. So mixed into each other. Like there was nothing left in life to do. Other than finding your lost crunchie, which I secretly wished you'd never find. Cause I like seeing your hair open. The way locks fell down in heat, and the way you got irritated. You were , not the Cinderella who lost her shoe. . You were the ones who wouldn't brush at times, which is gross. But you make sure, you do it when you meet me. I have stories. And I know they'd never end even if the night passed by. But I know you'd be still willing to listen. Everytime we fight, we leave. And we leave so fast, and it's time, and we're back. And I only know, we are capable, of more than just love. We are capable of destruction. And we're scared, that the small fire between us, would burn down the entire field, along with everything we own. What do we own? I own the beer we drank at 3 am on some random man's terrace. You drank three, I drank two. You own my tshirt, the one you wore cause you'd no extra clothes to stay. And I wanted you to. And you did. You own my words. And I own, wait. I don't own you.

# I Don't Own You... I miss the way we started. So mixed into each other. Like there was nothing left in life to do. Other than finding your lost crunchie, which I secretly wished you'd never find. Cause I like seeing your hair open. The way locks fell down in heat, and the way you got irritated. You were , not the Cinderella who lost her shoe. . You were the ones who wouldn't brush at times, which is gross. But you make sure, you do it when you meet me. I have stories. And I know they'd never end even if the night passed by. But I know you'd be still willing to listen. Everytime we fight, we leave. And we leave so fast, and it's time, and we're back. And I only know, we are capable, of more than just love. We are capable of destruction. And we're scared, that the small fire between us, would burn down the entire field, along with everything we own. What do we own? I own the beer we drank at 3 am on some random man's terrace. You drank three, I drank two. You own my tshirt, the one you wore cause you'd no extra clothes to stay. And I wanted you to. And you did. You own my words. And I own, wait. I don't own you.

# Counting the stars that left the sky. You know, I wanted go out, live and breathe. But now, I don't. I feel helpless. Suddenly, like you feel home is a safe place.I wanted to go out discover the world, the nights andthe days.But now I guess I want to turn myself into this cage.Lock myself in. The world suddenly feels scary,theworld living and how, for some, even home isn't a safe place. Who is it? Who is next?I have been trying to find goodness in every being tojust realize, I am wrong.There's no goodness. There are only people. People who want work done, people who are selfish and useless.People who don't know the number of stars over the horizon, people who wear face masks.People who talk about breathing, and can't breathe.

# Person-#1 The guy am going to talk about isn't very special to me. He wakes up every morning around eight. I have a strong feeling he is an insomniac since all the night when the world sleeps, I see him awake. Struggling through the walls of his own mind I guess? As far as I have seen him through not many things make him happy, but I would sometimes see him smiling to himself as if thinking about someone really special. Sometimes I would sneak through his phone and see the gallery. I would see no pictures at all, I wonder where he hid them. Some nights feel never ending, all I can see is him, sitting alone. Sometimes tears would come through the corner of his eyes, and I wonder what pain he is hiding through his lies. Sometimes he would feel a complete different personality, the one you see with all, and the one alone. The one I see with people around is different, teaching me the basics of slangs. Happiest in all and I would never see a tiniest hint. The one at home is a bit different. He looks like he's been burdened with a load on his chest, a pressure to be one of the best. The one who's eyes are easy to be read and even the smile is unable to get me convinced, about the stamped. Even when I reach the depth it always feels like a desert oasis,however far I go, I realize it's even farther. He seems like a mystery,a puzzle unsolved. All I know that I've seen him smile even in pain and I know he's stronger than he seems. Friends and family mean the world to him. Friendship is something he's loosing with time, but I guess that's life. I am just hoping he will be okay soon, for there's a sun after a moon. He doesn't show it when he is hurt but I know he is. I really wish that he shared his pains to someone trustworthy, atleast which makes the weight on his chest reduce...and makes him breathe. To be honest the qualities of him if counted are like the stars over the sky. He burns like them through and I know he's magical too. The only message I want to convey to him, Sometimes being perfect isn't the best, for imperfections are supposed to be beautiful in itselfIt's okay to cry when you're hurt,And feel not okay at once. I am with you and many more. All I know is I don't see boys like this exist anymore.

# Not- so- thievery I have realized something. When I was small, I picked this certain glass bangles that I really liked. These bangles looked like coloured circles of life, all colourful with tiny mirrors of self love in them, wrapped in transparent plastic of reality. I wasn't stealing you know, just picking up something I really liked,without paying. Unfortunately, the churi wale uncle happen to notice my not-so- thievery and I had to keep them back, cause Papa refused to buy me those. What's the point of telling you all of this? Aren't we doing the same act throughout life? We pickup things from people we meet. Kindness, love, hope and so much more. All of it is picked up. I would even say jealousy, cause the moment, we get to know someone is jealous of us, we start to get into doing the same, comparing. There's a difference in being taught something and picking up something. We mostly pick up.We pick up our definition of 'the glass bangles'.And payment? Payment is somewhat done in attachments, and every time you do this certain picked-up action, you recall the person who you picked it up from, and in most cases, these people end up being past tales. And that's it. I haven't really thought about when we don't pay the price. And this is what makes my theory incomplete. But the thought, that you'd be tossing your head upside down with your hair falling beautifully against gravity thinking about it, makes me chuckle. And I guess I have succeeded on my part. Think about it. Yeah. Until then. Take care. -Ady

# And you were just this another chapter. October,2016. We both had been heartbroken, crying in some dark alley, assuring our neighborhood aunts that we're fine. We were eating ice cream, one two many, actually I didn't count but well. We thought it would numb the pain and somewhere it did. The summer must've gone really fast, trying to find a new value to the life we once almost lost. She broke your heart. And he did mine. We were in a different city different ally and under a different sky.And actually, now I realize, I was never alone. When I actually felt. There were who knows a millions or more crying with me, walking alone under some streetlight some drunk some eating ice creams, some just walking. So that is why, I am using we.Now the fact, that we didn't break each other's heart then, makes up for now. Cause eventually we did. And I remember the promises we gave. When we give a promise, we mean for it to stay. And well. Sometimes it just doesn't. And you were just this another chapter I guess. Just another part. And I wanted you to be my story. The ending you know. The happy ones we talked about. Remember? So as much as I want to finish this book with you. I can't. And as much as I want to remember you, I won't. And so. I hereby break one more promise. Add this to the pile. And that is writing this here. Cause I want to forget you, but I do not want to forget the feeling of loving you. You're just a chapter, and yet the most memorable one. And I want to reread you.I wonder if this will happen again. Perhaps life is a cycle. What goes comes back again. Maybe, love will find me again. Maybe.

# 28th December, 2020 Let's talk about the evening. I played badminton after 2 years. I played like a noob. Met a pro player kinda boy, jisne ache se bezatti ki, koi kasar nahi chori bande neh. I fell my phone twice kyuki pocket was too elastic. Phone toota nahi. Then I played without shoes kyuki mai hawai pehen ke aayi thi and it wasn't supportable. I looked shitty but who cares. I was awkward most of the time but koi na hota hai. And now am sitting ghar ke darwaze meh typing this out. And honestly, mai phir kal jaungi thodi bezatti karwa ke aaungi kyuki yaar, bhai seekhna hai. Zero se hi sahi, let's just start.

# 30th December,2020- Morning. Okay so it was really a funny morning this time. My Dad was roasting me like a damn almond and well me being me got angry. I took the racket and rushed out of home with anger in my veins and escaping the place. I really wanted to be away. So I did. So well, I was alright. I had planned that I will just juggle the shuttle cock and get some time pass without the peer pressure of PERFORMING. Before that I made sure if there was someone I could play with. So like the lost souls in the universe I was going around. And after two rounds something happened. I saw Piro! Now if you're wondering who is Piro, he is de pro player of badminton that I have managed to get myself done bezatti with two days in a row. He was there with his dog! His dog was cute. But unlike most people I didn't jump on the dog doing aloo aalaee lee kuchu puchu. I ran. And it was like every turn I took he was there. Since all the roads were connected. Every turn I took he was there. And then. Well I ran because I looked just same as yesterday. With the same racket and alone, with the same specs and same me, and I didn't really wanna look like those..who haven't got shit to do. Plus it's embarrassing. Then, I ran for my life. Like bruhh. It didn't happen like those Bollywood movies na. Girl meets boy boy meets girl awwww. Naaaah. I ran away like I saw a ghost. And I really hope he hasn't seen me. When we were playing in the park the other day someone has asked him where he lived. And he said nearby. I had brushed it off like okay. And now I didn't had an idea he lived this close. One part of me wanted to follow his ass, but most of my brain cells wanted to escape him Cause I didn't wanna look like, sad, and I didn't really wanted him to ask me if I wanted to play. It's all 5 pm. And I have never seen him this early. So well. That was it. I played in the ground after seeing the coast clear. Must've looked like a thief, with hoodie on and glasses and mask and hands in pocket. Like duhhhh. Do I know you? That's it yaar. If you've managed to read this long, without feeling bored or sleepy or just irritated. You've all my love. Shaam ko miltey hai...

# 30th December,2020-Evening Alright. So today I am gonna talk about misunderstandings and okays. The evening today was nice. I wasn't sad, it wasn't bad. The guy I had talked about, Piro I met him again today. Played again. Lost again. Bezatti bhi fir se karwai. But today was different. I will get back to the different part. But wait. Let me talk about misunderstandings. The way Piro would ask me 'Khelogi?' was not exceptional. He did it with everyone. Yes, and here I was thinking too much. Now, Piro didn't do bezatti of me intentionally, he did this with everyone, misunderstanding number two. Piro played well. Piro tried to make me loose cause I was standing like a dumbhead. And I guess I gave him a shot back. And he lost. Blahh. Sorry I am lying. He didn't loose. But well, this was definitely some victory I got. He looked same, frizzy hair. It was funny how when he gave me the shuttle cock, our fingers touched and those two seconds become so awkward. I know it isn't supposed to feel awkward but it did. Piro ate away my shots. And then sulked about how I am just standing. And when I said it's because 'tum mera saara shot kha gaye!' He replied 'hum nai khatey na tho abhi tak tum out hoti!' And then we went back to playing. I didn't loose much cause I didn't play many shots but the once that came they went well. I wouldn't say I did too great, but it went somewhere above zero. There were so many misunderstandings. And I guess I will figure about more. Now, let's get to the other part. Okays. Yes. Let's say it together. It's okay if I miss shots. It's okay if I get out in the first ball. It's okay if I hit a person in the head with my badminton cause he freakin deserves it. It's okay if I stumble a bit. It's okay if I stumble a lot. It's okay if I get made fun off. It's okay. And when you speak it out. Say, it's freaking okay. You accept it. And you know what? Acceptance has a lot of power. You can't do good in something, if you can't accept the other things. It's not your kid rainbow world where you throw away the vegetables you dislike in your mother's plate or slide in through the window. You need to eat it all. Vegetables are costly these days anyway. You can't afford to throw it away. And the moment you start to enjoy it, it becomes easier, it becomes progress, it becomes something you look forward to, and I am looking towards a tommorow. Piro asked my name. He was the eldest guy in there. Other than him were kids, though those kids played well. So everyone out there called me Didi, and Piro yesterday called me Didi but i didn't feel like Didi. So today he asked my name, and I said it. And guys I am guaranteeing, this guy is older than me. So Didi holds no value. I do not add this to my acceptance speech. Haha. So be asked me my name, and that was it. I didn't ask him his. Though I wanted to. So well. I enjoyed today. That's it. I hope you guys didn't sleep.

# 31st December,2020 Two words to summon up a day, nice day. I met a girl, Aditi. Yes, it's funny right? Calling someone with your name? Now if you expecting me start with the flashback of how she reminded me of me at her age and stuff, you're wrong. She was nowhere like I was. She has beautiful hair, she played well, she could speak, she would speak up if she wanted something. The Adity of ninth standard I remember, would sit at last bench, the corner one, keeping her head down. Adity's best friend sat in the first One. This was not her will, but the teacher wanted it so. Maybe she felt they would talk less if she did so. And maybe she succeeded, making Adity silent. Yes, that's how Adity spent her time, re-reading her literature books, and writing about her. She would often speak about how she felt, and sometimes she'd write stories. Adity was no geek, she wasn't one of those with great confidence and some oxford vocabulary. She didn't wanted to write. She did, because she wanted to pass time. She did because she didn't really had anyone she could speak to. Anyway get over with boring flash back already!!! So anyway I met this girl Aditi and she played well. Piro didn't come to play today. I played with other kids. Obviously I did play a lot today cause Piro wasn't there to eat away my shots, but then I somehow missed it. Also then, Aditi happened to be playing with him almost daily, and before me. So well, i managed to dig in some information. But hey, I didn't ask his name she said it herself. I am not to be blamed. She also said he was somewhere seventeen. I was guessing him to be the college guy, but seventeen is probably 11th or 12th. And somewhere hope he isn't in 11th varna he will start calling me didi. Ewww. Piro's real name is Ishaan. Stop, I am not blushing you're. So stop. Hahaha. Okay. I think he must've had some plans. I dk why I felt like I should've had some plans too. End of the day, I played a lot today. I improved ofcourse. And I managed kids. Normally Piro(i will call him piro only, cause he didn't tell me his name himself, can't call him) would manage them all, otherwise they'd rip each other apart. But today I kinda managed. Pro tip: Phone ghar pe chor ke jana, you know why? You will feel like freedom. Stop hiding phone ke peeche. You may feel shy for two or three days, but then trust me, you'll blend in. I have. And I love it. and I hope to see him tomorrow. Haha. He is just the only person near my age isliye itna soch rahi hu. Zyada kuch nahi hai!

# 1st January, 2021 First of all. Happy New Year!So, today was, not so good but okay. I had headed out of home at 4.17 pm because I had tutions at six. And I didn't wanted to rush the play. Let's talk about, the new kid. I am so sorry I had asked his name but I have forgotten. He was a good player too. He was in ninth standard. And he was good. It isn't like a new character. He has always played with Piro and going in the same place four days in a row, thodi jaan pehchan tho ho gayi thi. So this new kid, was very respectful. He was great. We played together in doubles. And I made him loose twice. And I am sorry about it. But, I didn't see him frustrated and all. I mean the way you say, it's okay. It's fine. Let me tell you, till then Piro had not come. And I somewhere waited for Piro. Okay so I am gonna call his Ishan from now. Cause this Piro thing reminds me of, how amazing he is, and I don't really want to remember it, I want to play and from now on I will only concentrate on that. Ishaan had not come till then and I had lost twice. We had gone out of court giving the others a chance to play. The ninth standard kid told he has got some work so he's gonna head off. I was standing absentmindedly thinking about how Ishan might not come today as well. It somewhere gave me a feeling of a different sunset. The aunty. Let me tell you. When I was busy in all of this, I saw a lady roughly to be in her fourty or fiftys sitting with one racket. She happened to ask something from me. Hey do you know any tution for maths nearby? I heard the question and then I asked the standard she wants it for. She also happened to be needing it for ninth. I dismissed the idea saying how everything is online these days and the coaching I study mathematics in teaches higher secondary mathematics. And then making a move I asked You don't want to play ? She replied Actually , my son had come to play football. He also brought this one racket. But I don't have a shuttle . Let me tell you one thing about me. I always carry a shuttle. I slipped out my shuttle asking if she wants to play. Unlike what I had thought the lady got up, holding phone and purse in one hand and the badminton in the other. I asked her if she's gonna play holding all the stuff. She said it's fine. She'll manage. And boy; she did. She played well. We had played for some real time. I don't really understand the problem with me. I do well with one on ones. But the moment we slip into doubles or triples I start to suck up. Anyway, so she was a calm lady and she played well. Honestly I wanted to play with her more, but then her kid peeked his nose through the nets of the racket demanding his racket back because he'll play. I wanted to grand slam that kid, because man he wants to play with some damn strangers when her own mother plays so well. He can just play with her. Can't he?! The mother sat back on the bench again, looking at other kids play. I went back and joined the group of kids. By this time Ishaan has joined us. Good news and a bad news. Ishaan didn't made fun of me today. Other kids did. Yes, I was the famous 'didi' jo aatey hi chali jaati thi. Haha. They were kids come on! I don't know why Ishaan just didn't made fun. Instead he just said tum thak kyu jaati ho ek maarke? And I didn't say much. I did some shots today as well. It was only after Piro told ki bhai 'Adity' ko do shots miss karna allowed karo. And everyone listened. I mean yeah. He even knew kaunsa shot mai miss karungi. I guess I have made some pattern till now. Kids be like, didi ko shot do pehle voh miss karegi. Now thinking about what he said, why do you get tired itna jaldi? Stamina?! Why do these kids play so well? Peth se tho sekh ke aaye nahi hongey. Then? Kids have energy. Kids are flexible. Kids are fast. So now Adity kya karre hum yeh jaan ke? If you notice Ishan closely, he is so active, and fast, and he can plan his shots. What do I need to do? Work on energy, flexibility. And stop DAYDREAMING. Ek sapna batare hai. I didn't ask his name even today. Didn't ask his class even today. And I think to just let it be. Don't add expectations to the pile of resolutions, because they definitely gonna break.

# 2nd January, 2021 New achievement unlocked. Got myself hit in the stomach with a football. If you're wondering where the big ball came in from, in the beautiful game of badminton. Let me enlighten you, it came flying. It hit me. The girl if you remember her, Aditi was standing just beside me. She talked about how she also got herself hit once. Ishan was on the other side, and he asked the guy who was playing football if has special obsession with girls. I kinda started laughing and trust me I couldn't stop. I was playing and laughing. These kids playing football took advantage of the kid card, and played right where we were playing. So I got saved thrice after that from patt se headshot. It was really fun to play today. We played a lot. And the kid I talked about yesterday, I asked his name from him again today. It's Ronit. So something was off with Ronit today cause he was missing shots and hitting them like a flower. The guys were smashing each others asses. You can guess the aim, the point where the upper and lower part of the body meet. Ishaan again asked my name today. He was juggling the shuttle and asked 'Naam kya hai tumhara?' And I asked back 'Mera?' And then he be like ofcourse tumhara, mera? He said mimicking my voice. I told him my name, asked him his class though I had guessed it would be twelve and it was twelve. Today we played off the court cause a couple of kids were already playing. I did made many shots today, to be honest I even stole shots. And I made fun of Ishaan today. The incident went like I gave him a bad shot a lot towards the right. So he said kaun hai udhar? Kisko de rhi ho? And then 5 secs later he did the same. So I mimicked him and said kaun hai vaha? Kisko de raho ho? And be smiled and said Achaaaaa . It was really nice playing today. And well. I think I have started to blend in. My body didn't pain much today. A good day. Let me tell you some tiny secrets about today. Well honestly, everyday I try something different to know what suits me. If you're a girl reading this and you really want to play, remember somethings for comfort. And all these points are something I have gone through. Trust me you'll feel confident. And found remedies to it. And when you're able to look above these four points all you need to do is play. These are some things that always distracted me. Guys I am telling you, it was a 1 today. Above 0. I played till 6.05 today. Usually I'd move out at 5.50pm. Today I am ending this abruptly, not every ending needs to be perfect.

# 3rd January,2021 Note: Start reading from 28th December if you're new. Happy reading! Today I managed to have a swollen hand, cause I banged a girl, like kind off collided with her while we wanted to hit the same cock. And if you find a lot of double meaning in this sentence. Congratulations, you've the same brain as me. And in case you're still trying to figure out, congratulations again, you'll go to heaven. But this action sequence happened towards the end. Let me tell you from the beginning. I had reached our usual place by four fourty p.m. I was quite ready. Ishan wasn't there in the ground so I figured out he'll come a bit late. One part of my brain wailed in disappointment, thinking about the dark side of what if he didn't come today? What if? The court was preoccupied by some other kids today as well. We were actually the same group, but they'd been playing a tournament kind thing. So it wouldn't be free for a while. Likewise I told, I always carry a shuttle cock with me, me and Aditi planned to play without the court. There was a new girl I was today. Let's name her NG1. So NG1 appeared to be Aditi's friend. I kept playing the shots and handling both of them alone. It was fun I won't lie on that. We were in betweens joined by two tiny guys. Alright, any guy smaller than me is tiny. So I am definitely not talking about infants. And then, wind started to rush through like every place, the sand flying away while everyone closed their eyes. My hair automatically got opened, coming on my face while I tried hard to get it back, and then Ishan entered and the our eyes matched. If you're thinking that I am faking all of this, then you're really do know me by now. In real, he just joined in getting some of my attention and nothing on ground really changed. We aren't in Karan Johar's movie right. Let me tell you one more thing. I don't know how this mechanism works but whenever I am playing in front of Ishan I somehow get out early! So it was planned that boys getting out after two misses and giving next person a chance and three misses for girls. Normally I would jump upon my feminism card, but I thought what's the issue? This time a guy in there said Girls will also get two chances. Why special for them? And to this question, I wanted to know Ishan's answer but he didn't speak. And then it was changed to two misses for everyone irrespective of gender. I didn't say anything. The boy did have a point na? So me being me got out after sometime. Obviously I would wait for that long so I started to play with a new girl, let's name her NG2. She wasn't really good at it and missed shots, she kinda reminded me of me on first day. And then Aditi joined in us after she got out too. Let me tell you, these guys play exceptionally well and zabardasti nikalne ke peeche padey rehtey hai. Then, after a while the court ka manager started to yell saying he'll repair the court so we need to leave. The place where I live in we have plenty of courts at 1 km distances. So it wasn't a trouble. We walked into the other court. It had become dark till then. There were some lights on the court, and the switch was high. Ishaan has some good height so he clicked it on. But the lights didn't get on. I remember the comment Ishan said Light bhi series meh lagaya hai, kuch andar ka problem hoga and I had immediately guessed he must be science. Since the lights had ditched us we planned to play in the dark. And trust me, we were hitting the shots blindly. I couldn't even see the cock. NG2 and Aditi has followed us. There were two other guys whom I won't call kids, cause they appeared to be Ishan's friends who came too. I am real bad with names, as you can guess. So we played in the dark and by 6 pm most of everyone went home. And then it was just Ishan's two friends on one side, me and Ishan in the other. And then I asked. Konsa stream? And he said Science and then I replied Humko pata hi tha! And then he asked kaise? And then I retold him about the series connection part. And then he brushed if off saying how ninth class kids can also identify. And then he asked me The conversation went like Aur tumhara? Commerce with maths I said while hitting another shot. Commerce with kya? He asked. Maths I said. Oh acha tabh thodi izzat hai tumhari. And then I got to know that he is in ISC board too. Then NG2 changed places with Ishan. And I was almost about to go since it was already six. I insisted on a last shot. And while playing the last one, we couldn't see each other much as we were concentrating on hitting the shuttle. I hit the shuttle she hit my hand. She apologized and I think it was alright. Things like that happen in a game. But now here am typing this with one left hand since my right hand has been bandaged with Move. Maa said it will not pain today but tomorrow. However, it was a great day. And yeah, I manage to tease Ishan these days. And the way he answers Achhhaaaaa while smiling makes my butterflies active. It's the feeling that you made someone smile, and gives me a feeling of being something. Existence. Like I hope there'd he this day I won't come and someone asks Where's Adity? That kinda feeling. And it's worth a billion dollars, that feeling , in just one smile.

# if I were her-1 Mom cried the first time she saw me go, I was happy, I told her how my first day of school was. She did not look at me. She stared into blank space. I could see my reflection in her now glassy eyes. they looked like looking into sidelines of a beach. She did not blink. But when she did, as if pulling a lever to a dam, the water pulled out. It started with one small drop as I saw, but more drops followed. I shaked her, Mom why are you crying? Arent you happy? . She stared into blank space. Minutes later she came back to me. She said Lets celebrate our first day eh? and we walked down holding hands, her asking what else happened today? and me going on about it.

# what if? -2 Today she came back home late. The liner against her eyes was smudged. It was a daily thing, and so who'd notice? I never did. But today there was a different abruptness in her actions. She tells me to never eat in bed. She ate in bed. Her hands were shaking while she held one end of the spoon. Had she gotten so old in a day? my eyes followed her figure through the dark. She was done and had turned off the lights. As she slowly slid in under the warm sheet, there was nothing. I think she was asleep. I waited for her hand to land on my temple, as she'd pat me to sleep even if I was already asleep. It was her love language. She did not speak it that night, or if she did I would not know. I feel asleep waiting.

# midnight memories-3 It was midnight, when I saw it. Can you guess? may you guess? No. I saw something. In beneath the sheets, the awful darkness that engulfed us, her and a movement. I had woken up in the middle of the night and felt as if the bed had been shaking. A soft muffled voice hummed through the pitch black night. Was it a song? An answer. No. It was her beside me rolled into a ball of her despair. She tried her best to keep it as soft as it can. It was not music. It was a cry. A cry that took me too long to understand. It was not music. It was not beautiful. I saw broken parts of her that were wanting to be stitched in back to her. But it would still hurt. It did. But I would not understand, for I fell back to sleep.

# spacing out What are we if not looking at plain space, never blinking eyes, never moving lips . I am almost scared that your eyes would be watering in a while. Kudos to me for ruining my blog with such a random post. I love to be loved. Who doesn't? me. I do not like to be loved at certain parts of the day and other times I do. Writi

# 4th January, 2021 NOTE: Start from 28th December if you're new in here. Happy reading.<3 I will tell you something, I am giving a mathematics exam, and the first sum goes wrong, and then, the second one too. Will you be able to solve the third? In most cases you won't, even if you knew it, even if it was easy. You know about the first day of college? And you're allowed to be anyone you can, no one really knows you. A clean slate, and that'll be you for the next three years. I am playing badminton, and I have fucked up the first ball, the second too. I got out. I played again. I again fucked. And do you think after that I will be able to, play? I'd say the first few minutes of a game decides who will win and who won't. And it's not about the shots. It's the attitude of a person towards loosing. A person like me, will fuck up the whole match. And you can guess the reason. Confidence. And when you fuck up your first balls, everyone out there knows. They don't know who'll win, but they sure know who'll loose. And that feeling, is something I can't describe. I sure do can, but at this moment, I am at a shortage. Shortage of words, confidence, people, oxygen, and me. It's funny how in a normal day, if good things and bad things happen together, we'd still call it a bad day. So let's talk about the good day first. Today Ishan was there in the lawn before I reached. He was playing as usual. And then I joined in. And you can guess what things might have happened. I will tell you what I did after getting lost. Ishan was standing. And I was standing behind him. And obviously I didn't had anything better to do. So I started checking him out. Like the way he'd keep one hand in pocket and play with the other, and occasionally slide his rectangle spectacles up. The way he was so slim, and by the time I reached a bit out of nowhere Ishan turned. I had thought only girls had this impulse of knowing when someone is checking her out, but appears like Ishan has that too. At that certain moment I pretended to be looking at the beautiful sand ground. And after he turned in the front I couldn't stop laughing. Then let me tell you about how I wrote my name in the sand. Aditi NG1 and NG2 didn't come today. So I was anyway feeling lonely. Like I don't know what it did. But them being there just felt nice. Today I didn't get a chance to play much. I was rather just being there. Let's get on the bad side. Firstly, is that little kid, who said to give me so that I can get out first. Then there was this particular moment when I was getting into the court and Roshan(good badminton player/Ishan ka dost) said it's his turn. And then Ishan said 'Jaane dena ladies first' and then Roshan responded 'Areey aseh nahi chalta' and then Ishan said 'Areey asebhi 2 min meh out hoke aajayegi' and damn. Do you think I will play after that? And then I was about to go and it was almost six, and then I asked for my shuttle cock back, and they were still playing. And then I asked Ishan. And he said Areey chota bhai samjh ke dede please and trust me I wanted to cut this part out of my blog, but then I didn't wanted to cut out the reality part. And then I shouted Ishhhhhhh right after he said that and I guess he got his answer. But then I gave him the cock, like okay give it back to me tommorow. Honestly it wouldn't matter to me, like damn, okay, it's fine. I will go tomorrow and make it clear that I am not interested in brotherzone or I don't know whatever zone it is. But then when I got home. Dad opened the door. And then he said Acha voh mai na gaya tha ground meh, tum khel nahi rahi thi bus khaaddi thi and that was it. Why the fuck will he spy on me. Whyyy. Whyyyy. And then Dad started to talk to, khelna nahi aata.. sab ladke the udhar isko koi khilata hi nahi hoga bekar.. and then. Then my brain being my brain fucked up. And here I am sitting writing this out. And after this I am gonna shower some negativity. I am feeling embarrassed. Of myself. So be out if you don't want to feel it, don't worry I won't mind. I am so used to it. I am so plain and ordinary and I have no idea what still is there. I have been to places met people and they've done nothing else in life other than prove me once more how ordinary I am. How I can't ever fit in places or cross roads. How I can slang back a bastard or kick someone in the ass. All my life, I know it doesn't amount much time that I have lived. My sixteen years of existence, every real person I have met, they've always told me. Told me that how wrong it is, to be kind or good or patient or just you. Kindness does cost a lot, who says it's free? Who said?! I want to stop thinking about everyone around. I want to answer back a kid without thinking twice that he might get hurt with my harsh choice of words. I don't wanna think about so many people at once. Cause it's useless. They won't do the same for me. They won't. Stopping for the world is so, easy to say, but it hurts when the world moves on. And you're left with nothing, just a being good tag and regrets.

# 5th January, 2021 Note: if you're new here. Please begin from 28th December. Much love <3 Isn't it so funny, that you always mess up in front of the person you like? The way it is, like the moment he's beside you, you get so nervous,and there's a certain chill in the body, and you seriously can't rub it off. And you constantly think, that you mustn't do something that makes it obvious. And that's how cool ki jagah fool banjatey hai hum. Have you seen those daily dramas, how the moment it gets boring, the writer either kills someone or generates someone. Little did I had an idea that real life would go like that. I know you're confused. Trust me, I am too. Today, again Ishan was already there in the ground before me. And the last day that I had given him my cock, it has managed to survive somehow. And I had the little birdie for five seconds roughly, and then Ishan asked for it again. And I made that face that says Jab lena hi tha tho diya kyu?! I am real bad with remembering names. Today NG1 had come. Do you remember her from the last to last day? Hopefully. So NG1 came again with Aditi. I have figured out two things. 1)If you're in Ishan's team, you'll never loose.2) You'll never loose because you won't get to play only, cause he will hit each and every shot, and you can fold your arms ahd wait like a dumbhead for the cock to reach you. So Ishan was in Aditi and NG1 's team. Now that you'll need some introduction of her. NG1 is beautiful. NG1 has silky straight hair. NG1 knows how to play well. NG1 knows how to cooperate with Ishan and not confuse him unlike me. NG1 has a friend with her, Aditi. So they played and kept playing. I seriously have no idea what's going between me and Ishan, cause he be asking me Out karde tumko kya? and I be like Nahi and then he be nodding and making someone else lose. So Aditi, NG1 and Ishan played together for a long time. I was out. So I kept seeing her. I mean okayyyyyy. I am a writer I gotta observe naaaa! And then the way their chemistry went so good. And the way Ishan wouldn't even look at me while he be playing with NG1. The way he'll ask her if she wants to serve. The way he hardly asked me if I wanted to server. The way she never let him down like me. The way she was just someone he can laugh with and share jokes, while I looked around with bored expressions. Do you smell something burning? I guess I left the gas on. And then I didn't go much into the court. Like 'hey' I don't wanna sound bad, but if I can't play then why should I stay? And then when I wouldn't get much to play inside the court cause they're simply so many people and I'd get out doing silly things. Ronit, if you remember the ninth class boy was off today as well. Something has been cooking in his brain lately that I feel. Cause he simply looked lost. He was playing outside the court. So I joined him. We played a lot like that just one on one. And that's how I realized, I don't suck, I get confounded, when there's more than one person in the field. And so I fuck up the triples and the doubles. I really enjoyed playing with Ronit. And I was all sweaty, like every part of the body aching. Ishan also joined me and Ronit for five minutes. And his opening lines to me were Abb hum agaye hai na tumko khelne nai denge and then I shouted to Ronit Oyeee isko mat dennnnaaa but then Ronit is a confused alliance. And then Ishan played for a while and I did too. I somehow was happy cause I didn't fuck up then, that I usually do getting under the Ishaan red zone. And time flew away. It was around six that I realized I need to be home. One line that Ishan told me in between game was Tumhara cock aatmahatya karne wala hai and I knew it had already broken the way they were giving smashes. I laughed. And I actually did. I asked Ishan a few questions like when does he study and when he comes to play. I won't share that detail. But now, I guess it has become a ritual. Two questions per day, and few moments. I am confused though a bit. Ishan confuses me, sometimes he calls me aap sometimes tum. And I don't know what I am yet. I have never heard him call my name much. It's mostly for Aditi the ninth one. And he didn't really get a reason to call me by by name. I hope he does.

# 6th January, 2021 Note: Start with 28th December, 2020 if you're new. Happy reading. <3 Fairy tales. I am in my fairy tale. And every word he says, feels like more than he said. I hear it exaggerated. The world goes blur, and there's this spotlight all over him. And all I can see is him. But now, these lights have blinded me, I really can't see anything. Where am I? Who am I? Is Adity just this? Just plain and normal and ordinary dying for attention from a guy she'd met a week ago. Wasn't Adity the girl who'd talk about skys and caged birds and dreams? Well I am still in a dream. And I guess it's time to get over with it. Today, Ishan had come after me. And we played. I'll say I did really better than usual. And I was good at it. However I didn't really get a chance to play with me and Ishan in the same team. A part of me said, you winning cause he isn't in with you. What does he do to me? NG1, you remember her? I have managed to remember her name today. It's Rupsha. Ishan played with Aditi and Rupsha again today. Rupsha is good. And trust me Ishan would fight for her. Even say she isn't out even though she clearly is. He'd really play great with her. And she's nice. I know I am basically repeating all the stuff that I said yesterday and it's basically because it's the same thing that happened. I didn't talk to Ishan much today. I didn't even play much with him today. Cause he started to play one on one with one of his good player friends, Virat. I saw him from far away and it was just that. Aditi and Rupsha by the end of the day started to talk to their girl group of four friends. Ronit the ninth grade boy, he was there in the beginning but then he disappeared. And I really do feel something gravely wrong with him. Though I'd say it maybe just teenage swings. Ronit was mostly the only person I'd talk to without being awkward. And some kids randomly. So Ronit not being there made me sad. And I felt. Wait, I didn't feel anything. It was 6.50 someone had said. And I walked and walked going away from the ground. And I hoped someone would maybe even ask Jaarhi ho kya? But no one did. Even if they did I will never know. But I won't keep my expectations up. I played hell good today. So don't worry about that. But I have thought something. From today, I won't talk, about him. I won't notice his hair or the way he swings his bat. Or the way he fixes his specs up. Or the way he takes up stand for another girl. Or the way he doesn't notice. Me. And I know it's too much to ask for playing the same game with someone for eight constant days. So hereby, I make him easy for him. As well as me. This doesn't mean I won't talk about him. It's just that, he won't be. Noticed. Just normal guy I play with. No Piro. No smiles. No expectations. No sighs. It will be I and me, and them. Not him and me and them. I know I have been breaking language rules quite a many. But then, art isn't supposed to look nice or perfect, or beautiful, it is just supposed to make you feel something. And if I have managed to make you feel it. Then trust me. I don't feel alone. And I know today was smaller than you'd expected. But this is my life. And I can't kill anyone out, or add someone in. They'll happen naturally. And I hope, nobody dies. Do me a favour, will you? Please be careful. About yourself. When you go out or meet people . I hope hangouts can wait. I know I go out daily and it's a funny thing hearing it from me. But, I make sure I wash myself well when I am back. I make sure I don't get close to people. I make sure I don't touch anyone. And I know work doesn't wait. But please, please be safe. I really don't want to loose anyone. Please. I am scared. A lot. So do this for me. Much love <3

# 7th January,2021 NOTE: Start with 28th December,2020 if you're new. Today, let's just talk,life isn't supposed to be full of twists each day. So today, I had reached there before, someone . And I played well. It was just me Ronit and a couple of other people playing before someone joined in. When someone plays, he plays it so well that I get relaxed. And I miss the shots coming my way. So a very funny thing happened and I am still laughing over it. Ishan(also called someone) hit a serving and the opposition had a kid. The kid was standing in the back, and the other two players were in front. The kid is tiny, so you can make a whole scene now. So when the shot went to this kid, he hit it in the wrong direction, and the cock hit the sides of his racket,so the shot ended up hitting up his team mate's ass. And that too right in the middle. And it was some legendary moment. Everyone started to laugh like crazy. And today, like the pledge I took yesterday I didn't look at Ishan much. I mean, I almost was playing like an individual who only wants to play, and that's it. Nobody else matters. Right? Ronit today did play a lot too, it was all shuffled up. I played almost well today. You'll say today Ishan left early, so it was all me and my tanhayi(cliche). It was the first time I had seen him go early. I kind off wanted to maybe stop him and ask him the why and where. But I didn't. He said he's going, to his friend Roshan, and he walked away and kept walking. I saw him until he got out of my vision. Sounds pretty dramatic right? I will even tell you, me and Ishan had a one on one thing, and it went great. I guess to some extent, I have upgraded from the noob category. Though I will say I didn't really care when he went. And I won't count the part where I asked his friend five times about 'why he went early' because he forgot to answer me four times. I was just asking. It's allowed right? The girl group was also there today. The girls were nice. They too played well. Twp new girls had joined us. Let me make a serial number. It was two new girls. So the girl gang has, Aditi, NG1( Rupsha), NG2(still don't know her name) , NG3(Deepa-new girl) and NG4( new girl but not so good player/ reminds me of me a week ago). And dayum, I still can't understand how these people manage to make friends. I hope I remember their names. My neck basically pains right now cause I had shouted a lot on everyone so much. These guys play badminton, and it's fine, but why do they get so close to each other? And they don't wear masks because they're playing. So I kept shouting from far away to stop getting into each other's asses. Okay I said it in a more decent way though. Roshan is almost equal to Ishan in certain ways. He is a muscular guy, but definitely knows how to use brains, has a good height. Who'll believe he's just fifteen and in ninth? And he'll be sixteen this January. I had over heard him and Ishan discuss this the day before yesterday. I will tell you, this guy got some warm blood, cause when I was playing with him, and when someone did something or fucked up, he'd murmur slangs to himself. Don't overthink me talking about him, I am didizoned. And I don't mind. But somewhere I feel, like the world is conspiring against me, like every person I meet will make me their sister and talk after that. Though I think it's nice in a way, cause the respect you get, you feel nice. And plus, apnapann sa aajata hai. But okay, sab bhaiya bann jayenge tho saiya kaun banega huh? And I can already hear the right guy theory. You'll know when it's the right guy. The right guy won't zone you, the right guy will wait. The right guy will hold your hand and walk on roads. The right guy, will like all of you and you won't really have to pretend. The right guy will know the vulnerable side of you. But you know something? You'll take the right guy for granted. And then, then he'll stop trying. And then you'll have your ego. And then he'll have his self respect. And then, you two will fight, and almost break up. And then you'd agree on giving it a break. And then you'll get separated cause the break stretched too long. And then you'll meet him some years later. And history shall repeat. He will again fall for you, and you? No, this time you'll fall even more. And this time it would be equal. And you'd not let him go this time. No again. So the cycle is in your hands. I love the way I started it, and I kept walking and this place that I have reached is broken but beautiful, and I know things won't happen like this. You may not meet him again. And that's it, maybe he wasn't your Mr. Right at all. Okay so after I played, I went around the stationary shops to buy some artifacts for my project. I was happy to see that ninty percent people wore a mask, and we had ten percent of le-jhandry people. And I have been avoiding eating outside food somehow. Pataka bhi tho banna hai! I have been trying to work on myself. Four months to boards right?

# 8th January, 2021 Note:Start reading from 28th December if you're new. You knew it all this long, didn't you? Knew what?! Come on, don't beat around the bush, I know you, and you knew it and still you did it Yeah, I did. You knew all this while, about the whole attraction thing and still you kept writing kept feeling, and you knew that it will be- Temporary. Yes I knew it. We are same right? You're me and I am you. And how many times more, will you? I want to stop and I am trying. I mean. Adity, you're hurt, and you know it. And you knew that all this while it had never been a person you've been writing and liking. It was just the way, you seek help of one person to forget another, and you knew that it will make you foggy and you won't be able to think straight and still you did it. And yet again- It's of no use. Yeah . --- I has as usual reached the court around four fifteen. In the usual way, jacket tied around my waist, jeans,black t-shirt and a high ponytail. I will tell you that today indeed was a busy day. I played a lot and I also ended up getting my foot cracked. I know it's sounding awful but I have no words to explain a moch. If you know hindi. I will tell you the fact that I have started to know people. And play with them. And be smart. And think straight. And even lead some. And I am happy. The legendary moment of the day was when Roshan was playing. And someone have a real wrong serve. It went and hit the place between legs and everything started to howl like oooohhhhhhhhhh and it took me a while to understand what had happened. Ishan said Oyee Roshan! Ghungru toot gaye and then Roshan said aajaa akrot todta hu tere and then damn they started to have a friendly fight. I don't know how boys do it, like they manage to try killing each other in a friendly way. I really like it though. I mean, fighting and knowing that it's cool. And then Roshan came back saying Akrot khao bol raha tha budhi badhti hai and I was along the side seeing all the drama happen. Ronit was along the other side today. He had somehow shifted from badminton to football. He was playing with one friend of his saying that he has a match soon. Today there was ecstasy mingled in the air(and thoda sa corona jisko hum dekh nai saktey). And it felt like it will rain. My body gave me chills and all I wanted to do was sit on the ground. And preferably just fall. I mean fall and sleep. Lay down. And close my eyes. And let everything sink in. Let's it feel cold. Like the storm in the mind. And honestly maybe I wanted someone to join in. And we could talk about all the things in the world or maybe share something more than words could, share our silence and the infinity of words. But no, I couldn't do all of these. People were there. I was a person. And I didn't had the guts to. And I really wish tommorow we get this kind off atmosphere too. Because I think I made a mistake. I should've sat. Let the world do theirs, and should've done mine. I regret. And I can undo. I wish I could. Theher jaa tu kisi bahaney se ayee zindagi...

# 9th January,2020 Note: if you are new, please begin from 28th December. I started with something, for something, and I ended with so much more. I started with a boy, a handsome one, but just a guy. And right now at this particular point, it's more than just him. The way you get mingled and feel like you belong to somewhere. And you can call the people yours. And you can fall in front of them. And maybe even cry. We find the most amazing people in the most unexpected places. I will tell you something, we are a generation busy searching for the right people in wrong places. And to begin with, all you need to do is, keep the mean machine down. In case you haven't guessed yet, it's your mobile. I will tell you something. I won't say pcs and bad because they are fixed and they don't give you the comfort zone of use in anyplace anytime. And you know, when you look up the screen there's a galaxy full of stars waiting to be noticed. And maybe you can also be one of them. And maybe you can fall in love with yourself. But you need to remember, it should be, for you. Why do you need someone else's validation? Why isn't it all for you? Why does some person 12473728 miles away, point of view hurt you? I will quote some lines you know. These aren't mine but I wish you read them. The only thing about pain,is that it demands to be felt and that it. That's why you feel pain. That why I feel pain. And also one of my favorites you don't get an option to not get hurt. But you do get an option in who gets to hurt you and Augustus Waters liked his choices and Hazel too. I am sorry if I changed some part of the line. But, it's so amazing. Alright, people if you're reading this. Please, look away and sleep early. Save some overthinking. And, you guys mean so much to me. Now that you've read me, we are connected. So sending some kaaaafi saara pyaar to you. Okay, so today when I was at the ground I forgot about myself. I forgot I was Adity. I kept hitting hard and didn't gave a flying duck over, it went or not. And I really wanted to sit on the ground but the idea of getting attention still gives me chills. And so I'll keep it for some other day. Ronit fell down today while answering a shot. He's been falling too much these days. NG2 if you remember her, I am so sorry if you're getting confused, her name is Rishika. Rishika is nice and confident. I played a lot with Rishika until the time my legs would despise the job of taking my weight. I will tell you, I am the official 'didi' of the place. Cause only Ishan is seventeen, and I am sixteen, rest are smaller then us, say ninth tenth or eleventh. Though never underestimate them like areeey yeh tho bache hai. Today one kid whose name I forgot the fifth time was hitting a shot and I was chilling near the court and it literally hut my head. Khi khi khi, though the kid was all happy cause usne 'patt se headshot ' diya to someone who was not even playing and chilling. I was very aggressive around the end like 'jaldiiii karoooo'. The thing about these kid boys are that they talk a lot between games. And it's irritating. Girls are great though, they don't talk much unless they're kept beside another girl. So these kid boys keep talking like a chatter box and never get bored. Though there are some other kid boys too who emphasize on playing rather than speaking shit but trust me you'll think they're Sir Oracle. And it's somehow that whenever I miss a shot Ishaan will NOTICE it and do some comment thing. Like I missed one shot and he said waaah pro player khelri hai and trust me I was almost about to break Rupsha's head today. But it was mistake. Like I was all focused on playing and she came and stood behind me and I got no idea. And I am so happy that she didn't get hurt, but two secs later Ishan came and said Tum tho aise khelri ho jaise sab ko maar dogi and I immediately wished it should've been Ishan's head instead of Rupsha's. I mean come on! Though I will tell you a thing. When I was in school, I was a mediocre student, the good and bad mixed. But you know the teacher won't remember my name. But she remembered the topper's name and you know who else she'd remember? The worst students, the mischievous ones. So you get remembered either for being too good or being too bad. And this is how I know. People in there shall remember me. And will you remember me? Let me know. And, today was great. And today was bad, but today I will think about the good part and the bad part, let it stay under the covers, and you too, it's cold.

# 10th January,2021 Okay so foremost, I want to start with the best part of the day. And it wasn't on the ground. It was someone who called. Let me tell you, it's his birthday, I won't say the name. But he means so much to me and I forgot. I seriously did. But I am so happy. And you know he had a great day. He's been this happy after a long time. And he deserves all the happiness in the world. And we talked for say 24 mins 33 secs and it feels like every minute was lifetime. Like you know that it'll end soon and so you just don't want to waste time and make sure every minute of it counts well. Padho likho IAS YAS banno mera naam roshan karo. And I really wish. Him. To get over whatever hurricanes going around his life. He's trying. And here we go, Happy birthday, and cheers to him all the way. I hope he doesn't read this. I mean So about the day today, it started with people asking for my cock. I mean, ofcourse and they didn't bring their own. Here's freasons as to why I didn't wanted to give 1) they break it 2)they don't take responsibility 3)they're least bothered 4)10 rupaye ka hai tho kya, dukaan meh jaake khareedna takes time 5)dukaan tak jaaney se zyada mehnat kamaney meh lagti hai which only dad knows and so many more. I will tell you, today I overheard Ishan talking to some big guys. I mean I was just standing in there. It was about some tournament thing. And it was like aap bologey tho 8.30 bajey hi aayenge roz Ishan said. This exactly means that, from sometime he'll be coming 8.30 from now on or something like that. I don't know if it matters. And I played a lot today. There was another kid I played with for a long duration until my hand started to pain with the constant hits. The kid said he won't be coming tomorrow, but probably the day after tomorrow which somehow made me feel sad, which I shouldn't have. Ronit didn't come to the ground today at all. Aditi Rupsha and Rishika are standard nine girls and I definitely don't fit into their gossip part. Summers have almost come in Kolkata, it's not at all cold. And you know, it's somehow feels sad. I will tell you, change is the only constant. We can't hold on to things for too long and we have to let it go. And when the winter ends, the serenity of all of it would too. It won't be cool, and you'll probably be drenched in the pools of sweat, while just waking. The sun would be high above the head, no one will play, cause no fan. And I guess,soon, I will have to let go. All of this business. Of four to six. I have got project submissions tomorrow and viva a week later, and online classes. And tests. And then solving the previous years papers. And you know today the birthday boy told me a line Adity you'll do so many things now, and in future it wouldn't even matter to you. Maybe today it does. and maybe none of these things really makes sense. And maybe all these changes are just the beginning, just the beginning and so much more is left to come. I don't want to get tired. And maybe life is all about 'yeh karle tho life set hai' jab ki kabhi set nahi hai. And maybe most people we meet in life are just acquaintances. They're planned to meet and spend time and share emotions or whatever and get down in their stop. And in the end, all you will have is you. And I hope, I learn to let go and accept the changes. Maybe not today, but someday I have to. And you too.

# 11th January, 2021 Today is the last day that I am writing this. And I know that it hasn't been long and you must've expected that we'll go a long way. We have, haven't we? I have some promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep(Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening). The real thing about life is that it never stops. However we can stop, for a while, but then we'd still have miles to go. The idea sounds very vague, but then it's your canvas. You paint it the way you like, with your colours. I have been keeping things really down these days. Playing, getting tired, writing and that's it how it has been. And even though it sounds so great, there's so much more to learn and experiment. And spend time on. Maybe explore. And currently, at this point, scoring better does effect me. I will tell you how it all started. We spend money so easily. And without giving a second thought. But this 2020 made me understand the value of every ounc of money. It isn't just money, it's labour, and time. And love I'd add on. Cause if you were not your parent's child, who'd give you all this? Ever seen a mother feeding her kids? I saw once. I had given a big bisuit. And the mother tore the biscuit into pieces and then fed her kids right through her mouth. You'd even see with tiny birds. Aren't our parents doing the same? So getting back to my point, 2020 and economics taught me value of each penny. Do you remember the beginning of it? People loosing jobs, migrant workers unable to send money to their family, people stuck right where they are, hunger and poverty, school and fees. And it kind off made me feel so blessed, that I am right here sitting and typing this out and not worried about 'what will my kid eat tomorrow'. My father has done so much for me. Though I'd agree I am a brat at times demanding privacy and solitude. And that's just my sixteen year old brain cells speaking. You know, I think about it sometimes. Aren't we all sad? And the difference is, someone is sad because they don't know how'd they survive tomorrow and we're sad sitting on bed with the heater on, because of assignments? I mean see, I don't have it figured it out yet, into what's wrong and right. Just that you'll die one day, depends on you that you die in a expensive medical hospital and your dead body gets carried away in glass or you die out of starvation in some unknown road with no one to even bother. I know this went pretty dark. And I am still trying to figure out. So let's just say it already. I go to play each day, and I am doing pretty great, and that I have stopped thinking almost about everything while I am playing. And it feels nice. To cut off the overthinking part. And that I won't be writing about this daily thing anymore. I guess I am still not ready for certain things to happen. And Ishan, let him be, a tiny little butterfly story, though I'd never say bad about him. He is pretty great too. But we have nothing in between or will. We're friends. And that's it. End to it. I am planning to focus on my boards, cause I am general. And we have to worry about the 'good' college part. And 'marks '. I know marks won't really decide a lot in my future, but, yeh thodi pal bhar ki khushi, I am gonna buy that. For dad. Cause he does the same all the time. And till now I haven't really ever done anything to, make him happy. I mean, the 'PROUD' moment. But, I want him to be. Proud. Hence. Aaj se and abhi se. And haa don't worry I will still be going to play. But I won't be penning it down. Dhyaan rakhna apna sab. Miltey hai zaroor. Keh tho diya hai dekhtey hai kitni din tak yaad rehta hai. And something for you to think about while am away. -Plucked flowers seize to grow. Adity.

# Changes. I wonder what we are made of. Dust and particles, scientifically we say, matter. But, then what are we actually made of? You know I often get lost in the hurricane of my thoughts, unable to understand what makes me do what I basically do. Sometimes, it's so harsh, and sometimes it's sweet. This is basically the roller coaster we are on. Sometimes I really feel like keeping silent and let some other person fill me in. With thoughts and stories, art and life. I wonder when was the last time I felt 'life' in some other person. We don't get many people we want to keep listening to. I somehow do not understand as to why , we are attracted to confident people. Why is standing out so attractive? Why is anyone with different thoughts, feels like a person you want to keep knowing and knowing until they run out of stories? I wonder why I am attracted to sad people as well. Not the sad type, but basically, when you get tired of finding 'life' in others, all I wanna do is, maybe make someone find 'life' in me? Don't you come across moments when you laugh, and you keep laughing and you wonder, when was the last time you laughed this much? I don't know. Maybe these things are supposed to be unknown. The energy in me, is so mysterious. I am almost flabbergasted and unable to understand. Who is me? These changes making me feel, like a new person everyday. And I don't want people to think I am fake. We change. We are growing, we reconsider. I am not fake, I am just changing. And if you know me, and you reading this, maybe you're some constant. And even when life changes and reconsideration happens, the basic element of me is still going to be same. So if you're my constant, you'll find the constant in me. I hope you do. And umm. I love you.

# Reset. ...and they lived happily ever after. He kept writing her letters months after he stopped sending them. On New Year's Day he wrote that he hoped that she'd get everything she wished for. Then he tossed the letter into a box under his bed. He's stopped trying to bring her back.(taken from eleanor and park- a novel by Rainbow Rowell) I don't know, but, aren't we always looking forward to a happy ending? Though pain makes the tears drip, somehow making you remember the story. I have always wanted a happy ending for myself. An end where everyone's together and everyone loves everyone. I fear it might never happen. The truth better be spoken out, Everything good comes to an end and so does bad . But I'll remember and sulk about the good one. I don't want it to end, but it's like the hour glass running out of sand, all I can do is slowly watch it get over. And then? Reset. It's over. Make it again. Make it? You know what? Forget it. Just forget it. Sitting on some alien ground, watching the sky turn grey and then pitch black. The pearls making a necklace over the sky, through the little light they got . My hands frozen, shivering, the cold. Hitching my coat closer to me, letting the tears sweep down. Maybe we aren't weak, maybe it's just the world. The way it has been. And it will be. Shush. Tommorow is again tommorow. Let's build it again. Okay?

# 2nd Feb,2021 Note: this is a continuation to what I started from 28th December,2020. Scroll down for prior episodes. He said he wouldn't be coming to play anymore. He had JEE from 22nd. The last day he didn't play. He just sat, and started conversing with another guy. My urge to go ahead and talk had increased. It had been two days since I had seen him. He was wearing a red t-shirt and black tracks. His hair looked just the same. I played and got out, and to me , this was an appourtunity. We might just never meet again. I walked slowly towards him, I came back after half a road realizing a sudden recession in my confidence. After two tries I finally walked to him to talk. He saw me and the nervousness between us disappeared into the mist. He talked with me just like it was yesterday. Phir seh out hogayi tum? Haa tum out honey hi aati ho na? Haa and we both started laughing. After talking for a while he asked me khelna nai kya tumko abb? Khelna hai toh haii lekinnnnnn umm tum kaha the do din? Abb hum aayengey nai khelney iske baad. Padhneka hai . Acha vaise tumko agar koi maths doubt ho toh puch lena mere se aur kaise puchengey hum? Call karlena he said making an obvious face. Mere pass number kaha hai achaa nai hai kya? Toh likh lo pen toh nai hai yaad karlo naiiii hum bhool jayengey there was a guy sitting beside him, the same guy he was conversing with, before. This guy had a bag with him, assumption was made that he might be having a pen. I asked him hey pen hai tumharey pass? Hai toh lekin chalta hai ki nai pata nai acha de do the other guy took out the pen and handed it to me. It was working. So abb paper bhi dedo? Paper nai hai tum paper k bina pen ka kya karta hai? kuch nai . I handed over the pen to Ishan. Toh kaha likhey? He asked. Hath pe he made a slight smiling face, took my hand in his and wrote his number. I took care of the number making sure it doesn't get rubbed off. I reached home, immediately writing down the number into my phone and then washing my hands. That was the last time I saw him.

# what say, sighs? I wonder if he'll like it Mel said looking at the picture she just clicked. She had liked it. To her it looked beautiful. With her not so sure smile, the creaks in her eyes and her hair around the back tied into plates, a lock slighty passing over the side of her temple. Mel felt good about it. Changing it into one her wallpapers she put it in. And like the other things in life she never saw it again. She would, at times when she'd have nothing else to do. It was not until the day she changed it and never put it back again. The day had passed just okay. All of the classmates looked into their phones, into the text messages or calls they might have missed, some were busy into selfies. She, with her head held high looked at bus numbers searching for the one that'd reach her home. Mel didn't really liked selfies, or she did, but with the people she liked. She looked at her phone thinking about her guy friend, who does pick up at times but mostly not and if she could call. With her almost half the expectations she called his number. It ringed three times until the line went disconnected.Looking at what nothing could be done she picked in the earphones from her bag , without adding music to it. Perhaps it was her way of being busy. Hey could I- borrow your phone? Systa asked her. Systa was one of her classmates she neither liked nor disliked. Sure she said as she passed away the phone to his hand. As she put down her fingerprint, the home screen opened up popping out her picture. The one she liked the most. Shit dude- Systa gasped as he went into chuckles. What happened? Mel said in a tone which clearly wasn't comical. Dude this scared me gosh Systa said as he called down the number for which he had borrowed the phone. Mel looked down at the flowers, and then the sky, and then towards the people going in cars. Some of the people stared back which was pretty weird. She took back her phone- her bus has come in. Sliding into the bus seat, she unlocked her phone, popping up the picture she liked the most. Changing it to a black dark background she out off the picture, for another day when she felt beautiful enough.

# To forget or not to? We as people, meet people. We as people make memories. We as people have no idea when we make them. We as people erase them too. From burning down the ashes of something that existed to throwing it away in the sea. Lovers lock their love over the bridge, even when the love rots away, like the rust over the lock. If you have ever thought about what we do, we dig in. We dig into each other. Don't get me wrong, but we just do. We dig in to make a space that belongs to us, in the person we know talk to or spend time with. It's basically like leaving a scar, that burns. The brain cells by then get used to all the hormones that feel good. At the stage where you stop feeling them, anxiety takes over. Some people remember some people, forever and for some people, their scars become lighter and lighter until one day, it's almost like they never existed. But the question remains. If you forget me, should I be forgetting you too? To never forget is to never move on, and at this stage, as many as relationships you make, you end up making a cycle of whatever happened to you, putting scars on others. To forget, or not to?

# Home? There are many answers to what a home is, logically it's a place with 5 walls around you. For some, home is an emotion. What they feel, because then, even hostels and hotels would be called the same. So we end into, home is an emotion.But I am a traveller, for me there's no home. Home is people. Home is a place that makes me feel like, climbing in anytime even if it's midnight. Where your ashtrays lies on the windowsill, dishes still left to wash. It's a place where you take in the little steps, grow, and keep growing. When I said, home is people and I am a traveller, you may have figured out why. Travellers have no home, they go around and keep going around, every place is home to them. Every memory is precious. Everyone is love. Everything is beautiful. And that is what, describes home to me. :)Maybe there would be a day, when my legs would stop going, and my heart would say, abb ruk jaatey hai thoda, issi jagah issi samay, or mai kyu? Puche bina shayad ruk jau. Par voh din aaj nahi.

# Rains and Ruins It was the season of summer, and a hot humid day followed us. Something was wrong about the day, or the clouds or just me is something I am yet to figure out. The clouds changed shades, getting darker and darker each time, maybe the sun tanned the clouds? By the time, school ended the weather had just turned around. Crazy winds mixed with rain almost a deadly combination. He looked at me, and I looked back. He grabbed my hand and with bags over our heads we ran. We managed a slip but managed stability after a few circus tricks. He didn't let me fall. We sat under the slide, hearing the rain pour on us. I opened my hair, and he let the drops still pour down from his temple. This place, it's not like it used to be. The rain is still here. I am here. The rain is pouring hard. The slide isn't here anymore. I don't see adults escorting their children out. I can't see him, or the bracelet made of pebbles. There's dirt. I brushed my hand over his head, and he looked at me. Occasionally the rain was being glanced at and it did not look like it will ever stop. To me, I did not want it to. There was the tree, it has grown old. It still has our names dug into it. It must have waited long for us to return. And now, it's not us. I have kept my promises. The street lights turned on, and a ray of light flashed down on the silver ground. A few people could be seen passing by. The smell of soil, like the rain had just kissed it with whatever it had, every pain in it resonated with me. The rain has almost stopped, with the last drop of rain falling down the leaf. It was time for our departure. He moved a little, at the same moment when I told him not to, don't go my heart said. He gave me that same smile of assurance as he slid his hand away and stood up I will be back . His smile was weak, like a fire ready to die. I didn't feel so good about letting him get away. But eventually, he did. And yet, he hasn't returned. The only thing common is the rain has ended, years ago and still, I had lost him.

# To post or not to? #1 If the stars breakdown,Do they get mixed in the soil,Do plants grow there and become trees,Do stars look at the earth, thinking of the grave of their old ones?Do they still mourn, gasping or they just blink?Is just blinking a mechanism to cope up with the pain? Or is it just some refraction of stupid lights which makes us think all of it?If stars could break away like that, why couldn't we? Why couldn't we just break away, like blast, Getting mixed away in the soil almost like disappearing from the existence of whatever we could've been. Our potential lifes? But that will never become real. I don't exactly know what all this is supposed to mean. But why do you wish when a star breaks away?I don't know . I just feel like we are somewhere the stars. Do you ever just think about it? It can we that all of us have one star that resembles us. Some people die everyday to put up to certain wishes of people. People are stars. All of us. And the sky is black. Moon is idk. Some beauty perfection shit. Everyone wannna be like moon. Can we just give attention to that tiny little star the corner? Look how amazingly it's all alone in there. The way it wouldn't form a constellation, be like everyone else. I guess I love it for that. Because. You still shine.

# To post or not to? #2 She looked down, fixing the drapes on her saree, her hair open. Her earrings would make a little sound when they moved, it wasn't much, but enough to take in all of my attention. I could look at her and say that she was nervous. Her eye followed the room, looking for a comfortable someone. And that's when I come to play. I go ahead, and murmur a small hi, she replies with the same hi. And for a brief second she smiles at me, and I smile too, though we haven't got an idea about what's so funny. What are you smiling at huh? I say, and then she smiles a little more, and ahh I lost my heart just there, nothing, just that, you look good and I couldn't hold my eyes, she is making me blush. You too I say. We move ahead, a little, and it hardly had been a minute, when other girls show up. Our small little, understanding went into a big circle of greetings. I can say, a part of me was angry. Today of all days, I wanted her for myself. I was selfish, but who isn't? I moved out of it, enough that nobody did notice. Near the pond under the tree I sat, looking at the lunch I brought for us. I couldn't ask her if she wanted to eat with me, and now she might, but with her friends. Looking at the pond, I see a reflection, it's her but it's sudden. You? I say turning my head back to her. What's for lunch? She said in her chirpy voice. She sat down beside me without a word. I opened down the box. We ate. I had made,whatever she liked. Even if I didn't really tell, she did get to know. We talked after that till it was evening. It was time to go. We did not really take part in the events, or the games the other people played. But for that time whatever we did, even if it was just to talk, I am glad. In the end she held my hand as we walked back to the bus home.

# To post or not to? #3 Only if life had a rewind button, I would have loved you a little more. I wouldn't have fought on Sundays for a stupid guy you met on, who might just potentially ruin things. If I had known, I wouldn't be leaving from beds on mondays, while you kept telling me to stay a little longer. If I had known, our kisses would have been a little more the infinities we talked about. Or I may have bought you that one more hamburger, that you yourself told me not to buy you, even if meteors come by. If I had known, I would have danced in the rain even without thinking we just might catch fever. If I had known I would have whispered my love, a little more about how, even if everyone is the day, I would still choose night, cause you live in it. I would have told you, that the entire sky would just be yours if you just wished it instead of telling you, how it just won't be easy.And that my heart sings for you in pain and grief and even in happiness. I would've told you, about how even after a million homes, nobody has ever felt my own.If I had known, I would never had let you go away that day. If I had known we just might have been different today.

# To post or not to? #4 We were smiles, she was. I do not smile much alone, cause doing that either means you're thinking about someone or you having a mental breakdown. Our smiles together wasn't the straight one. Where your lips form a perfect curve, and the eyes glow up. Hers was somewhat the way her eyes would go small, and form creeks. Her cheeks would puff up even and she'd try hard to laugh not more than that. But she would. And boy! I could look at that the whole day.

# To post or not to? #5 Leaves fallen down all the way. A few trampled, a few bended over the joints, yellow and dried smelling of some old love.I wonder if these leaves ever felt remorse for not ending up in someone's diary? How beautiful it would be, to be picked up and loved? I wonder if these leaves just got old, or did they fell ? Why are love stories, that ever lived always were always incomplete? Why does this cupid's arrow feel like hell. This lady,I remember would gather all these leaves, every morning . Her old arms stretching in and out, occasionally fixing her crooked spectables. Sometimes looking at me she would give a silent nod. She smiled at times looking at the kids playing by. She would spend some time gathering these unwanted failings and then looking at the children would silently walk in.She'd toss the pile away in the fire. What a good flame? A flame of fallen life about to die. I wondered if it was a way to burial. A memorial to the ones who couldn't make it, or stay intact in the harsh winds. She'd at times sip through the tea and look through the window. Awaiting a storm, or perhaps rain, she'd wait for the autumn to come and a few more leaves to fall, knowing she's not the only one to do so. A written commandment of love over the yellow leaf, had lived through the years. And he's yet to come. -the leaves that didn't make it through the pages.

# To post or not to? #6 And she felt it. She felt she was no more important. And whatever she did, for whoever, it doesn't matter. In the end she'll be alone again, cutting wounds, counting dead fireflies. Counting as if they might increase in number. People said giving your best- gives you everything you wish? She doesn't think so. Giving everything you have, might just end up empty. In a room left with just her. Sometimes she'd feel like to rip herself off, for giving away or being so dumb. She'd rub her skin until it would get red and realize just how more scratches and the it's out, the blood. She had too many scratches to heal. She'd wait for them to heal, and scratch them again. Oh did she do the same with her heart? She read lines about how living and existing are different. Most people just exist. And to live is great. But why are all the stories about beautiful gardens , without a torn lef, or the withered flowers that grew old, or the ones that got trampled? The thorns that might have gotten into the skin of the person who took care. She'd want to stop to exist. Trying out things like walking or drinking coffee might help. Something definitely can make her happy right? She's so much below the sea under the heap of regrets and memories and people. She can't breathe. And you can't hear her, can you? -Under the water.

# To post or not to? #7 Days have passed on crazy. I believe it's how the whole regret thing works. When we have time, we think, we have got a lot. When we don't our mind thinks the reverse, I wish they gave more time. Life has got stuck in this cycle of blaming everything around, to an extent that have forgotten about myself. Every circumstance feels like a full stop. The extent to which you can pull over, and then you realize there's more. There's always more and more waiting. Now that I look back, it feels like I have stood long in the same place, and it's time. Time to move on. To a different destination? And a new damn place? More people and certainly more of life. Even though time has been passing away like sand, flowing away, but at this moment. I don't feel like holding on to it. I feel, I feel the urge to let it go the way it always has. Haven't written for a while. That's what I use my earrings for, these days.

# To post or not to? #8 Dear Memories, I don't like the way you always slide away, even though I try to hold on to you. Though you never go away, you just slide down, getting replaced by new happenings. Like a pile, it's hard to think about you and remember you as it is. It's fascinating how, we make you in present, without even having a tiny shard of idea . The laughters, falling down, and laughing cause you fell down, your someone laughing, and you stand up, and fall down again, laughing because you couldn't stop laughing yet.That kind of you. That is what I am talking about. When I started to play, I remember my hands all sweaty. I was shivering, and it wasn't cold. And my heart beat was as fast as it could be. You know, the first was fine. Second day was the hardest. And third day? It was better. It kept getting better. I made friends, and you. And at this particular time, I am leaving it again. Sometimes it feels like, there's no use of investing in people. Because the certain time of it, will end, and things end up becoming one of you. Very few people make past that barrier, of personal space, being there watching like the moon from far away. Mostly, it's like the fixed things you'll pass by, they won't follow you. I kind of feel sad too. And ofcourse that line you know It will never be the same again thing. I kind of feel very bad about it. Looking back to the pages, I realize how long it has been. And things that made sense before, doesn't now. Change is perhaps the only constant we got. Maybe we only stop by the woods for a certain time, at the end, we'll have to keep going. Until we sleep?I am glad, I have you. Reminds me of, how vulnerably beautiful life has been. :)

# To post or not to? #9 I have lost them all,Even the bright stars and their magical light is gone.My soul has lost it's way in the busy street of life,And it can't wait.There's something mystic about the sunset in the evening,It's sad yet the most serene.All I can think is about his smile,The blush over his cheeksLike the very nerdy geeks.The way our stare game through the classroom, Would go for hours,And still it would never be boring at all.The way your lips would turn red,With the just ate gola we had.The way our shoulders touched,While we sat together in the school busThat made us try looking everywhere but each other.The way you wept like a baby,When I was leavingYou literally wept all your mucus on my churni enoughThat I told you to keep it. The way you sat on the middle of the road,Your hands wrapped around my one leg,Creating a scene,Saying you won't let me go.I would give it a try,Realizing you're too heavy.I would just lean downAnd kiss on your head,And whisper the words,Those eyes would look at me,And I realize how much I don't want to go,As your grip slowly loosensAnd you let me go. And now I realize, when I thought it would be easy to forgot,I am here, ten years later on the this very same street.

# To post or not to? #10 I wonder what we are made of. Dust and particles, scientifically we say, matter. But, then what are we actually made of? You know I often get lost in the hurricane of my thoughts, unable to understand what makes me do what I basically do. Sometimes, it's so harsh, and sometimes it's sweet. This is basically the roller coaster we are on. Sometimes I really feel like keeping silent and let some other person fill me in. With thoughts and stories, art and life. I wonder when was the last time I felt 'life' in some other person. We don't get many people we want to keep listening to. I somehow do not understand as to why , we are attracted to confident people. Why is standing out so attractive? Why is anyone with different thoughts, feels like a person you want to keep knowing and knowing until they run out of stories? I wonder why I am attracted to sad people as well. Not the sad type, but basically, when you get tired of finding 'life' in others, all I wanna do is, maybe make someone find 'life' in me? Don't you come across moments when you laugh, and you keep laughing and you wonder, when was the last time you laughed this much? I don't know. Maybe these things are supposed to be unknown. The energy in me, is so mysterious. I am almost flabbergasted and unable to understand. Who is me? These changes making me feel, like a new person everyday. And I don't want people to think I am fake. We change. We are growing, we reconsider. I am not fake, I am just changing. And if you know me, and you reading this, maybe you're some constant. And even when life changes and reconsideration happens, the basic element of me is still going to be same. So if you're my constant, you'll find the constant in me. I hope you do. And umm. I love you.

# To post or not to #11 I will tell you why I don't want to tell you that you're someone that I think about. That I keep my phone on full volume in the hope that you'd call. The fact that I lower the volume whenever I am away, cause the call is for me and it should be only me that picks up. I don't feel like adding on to the list of people you've to take care of. The way it's morning and you look at the old dyed clock over the wall and certainly be thinking how the 'times' might never change. The exhaustion over your face, the slight smile, and way you wanna smile for the sake of it, to show everything has been alright and you're all okay. I will tell you. I want to be the leaf hanging through the window; a ray of hope. Something that you see everyday and recall that you still have got to live. Looking upon me, even if there's a whole lot of lined up stars over the galaxy. For me, and that I shall be walking by your side, even if I am a mere painting. But I am enough. I am the masterpiece.

# To post or not to? #12 I have realized something. When I was small, I picked this certain glass bangles that I really liked. These bangles looked like coloured circles of life, all colourful with tiny mirrors of self love in them, wrapped in transparent plastic of reality. I wasn't stealing you know, just picking up something I really liked,without paying.Unfortunately, the churi wale uncle happen to notice my not-so- thievery and I had to keep them back, cause Papa refused to buy me those.What's the point of telling you all of this?Aren't we doing the same act throughout life? We pickup things from people we meet. Kindness, love, hope and so much more. All of it is picked up. I would even say jealousy, cause the moment, we get to know someone is jealous of us, we start to get into doing the same, comparing. There's a difference in being taught something and picking up something. We mostly pick up.We pick up or definition of 'the glass bangles'.And payment? Payment is somewhat done in attachments, and every tome you do this certain picked up action, you recall the person who you picked it up from, and in most cases, these people end up being past tales.

# To post or not to? #13 You know, I wanted go out, live and breathe. But now, I don't. I feel helpless. Suddenly, like you feel home is a safe place.I wanted to go out discover the world, the nights and the days.But now I guess I want to turn myself into this cage. Lock myself in. The world suddenly feels scary,the world living and how, for some , even home isn't a safe place. Who is it? Who is next?I have been trying to find goodness in every being to just realize, I am wrong.There's no goodness. There are only people. People who want work done, people who are selfish and useless.People who don't know the number of stars over the horizon, people who wear face masks. People who talk about breathing, and can't breathe. -counting the stars that left the sky

# To post or not to? #14 Yeah. I like my nailpolish. Is that wrong? Maybe, maybe not.Dear Diary #61 I am starting from right where I ended. And this is where I am. At 61 st. Which means there has been sixty times when life went breaking apart, creeping my nerves, filling me enough to write again. Don't misunderstand this with my other history, my poems and stories they'd really fill a different slot. But this. This is my place. I come here when I am sad, in pain or lonely. You're right. When I have no one,I come to you. Is that selfish? Cause, you don't leave. And people probably do. I am good with words, but not good with lies. Yeah, that's where I mess up. So, well say, when I want someone to stay for me. Do I really stay for someone? That's what it is, right? You're expecting people to stay for you, escape sleeps probably give you as their first priority. But give it a thought. Is there someone like you, probably expecting the same from you. And you don't reciprocate cause probably you don't want it. Why? Cause you don't feel something about this certain person the way you feel about some other person. And that becomes some entire love octagon. Triangle is just a baby. I am there for you when no one is there for me. I am not there for you when people are there for me. Yeah. That is what I call honesty. Don't be sweet, be honest. Be it. So that you don't end up on someone's Instagram status termed as #fake. Atleast it's better to be called rather mean and selfish. Right?In the end, we are all bad tales in someone's book, and what can we do about that? We keep doing it. And yeah. I am upset. Cause,I am a bad tale.

# To post or not to? #15 I had joined some workshop. Some workshop for handling temper. I had gone with brother and I was eleven years old then. It was held twice a week. Sundays and Saturdays, 9 am to 4pm. They used to provide crap lunch, brownies and frootis for breakfast. Mom forced us into it when we were in Gurgaon at moms friends. There used to be more than three hundred kids at once,possibly more. The lady who gave lecture was some lady NRI. She said one rule. You are not supposed to sit with people you know. Be truthful to yourself. I am brother never sat together. I wandered around, perhaps wasnt good at making friends. One day I sat with her. And life changed, we sat and talked, tried suppressing our laugh. Laughed a lot. We had the best jokes, she understood me and I didnt know how. I never explained her anything, still felt like she say to me Shhh.I know and its perfectly okay. I fell in love with her, she wasnt crazy like me, instead she was calm but still was amazing. She told me her Dad taught in this workshop too. And her Dad wanted her to attend it as well. We sat together, we searched for each other in the crowd. Until this one day, she didnt sit beside me. I asked her why? She said, its against the rules and she cant cheat her father. She promised him that shell concentrate. I felt sad. She didnt sit. I was back to sitting alone in the crowd and sleeping. I used to still search for her. I could only see her sitting everywhere but beside me. One day I found her at lunch table sitting alone, having her home made tiffin. She didnt like the crap lunch these workshop people served. She felt different. There was a tone of sadness in her voice. I didnt ask her why. I wish I had. I never saw her again. But I never forgot her. I forgot her face, but I still remember her name, her words, every inch, every moment. Yeah I was in love with her, not the kind of boyfriend girlfriend love, but the kind of love one can never explain. I could never... Ending this with a quote I wish I knew how to quit you Goodnight(11.56 pm)

# To post or not to #16 I am listening to the same melody. The same song looping, a sixty times. Tu thori der aur theher ja, the song of stay. When you want someone to stay and just stay. You don't want them to do anything, just staying would do.It's a cry from within, when you wnat the time to stop and it doesn't, so you just want the person to stop. Maybe a little longer. Longer than everyone else. Maybe a little longer for life..

# To post or not to? #17 She was sitting on the white bench. Her bag hanging through her right arm. Her head was down and I knew she was thinking again. Hey, why are you here for? I asked. Well, the same thing you're here for. Submissions. She said. I know that! I mean, why are you sitting here? Uhm. Work's done so going home, waiting for the bus Well. What's the hurry? There are other friends. Let's hangout with them for some time, atleast till your bus comes. No, I have to go home. Dad must be waiting. Adi, can you stop lying already? Can you stop bothering already? Lol, why don't you ever try to stay? Why are you always running. Here to there. All the time. I don't stay because I don't have a reason to stay. Well well am I not a reason? No you're not. Okay. She stood up. Where? Going to walk till the bus comes Well. How about I join? Weren't you just about to hangout out with your friends? Well. I guess someone has a reason to stay. Unlike some people . Stop stealing my lines! Learnt from you. I whispered. Her lips formed a beautiful curve, though she tried hard to suppress. I walked with her though none of us said a word. I guess we found our reasons. To stay. Passing through the time.

# To post or not to? #18 I would do anything to not feel the way I feel now. I hate good nights and goodbyes. Good nights means I have another eternity of night to think about all, everything that is going away, or the guilt that the day wasn't productive at all. I want to talk, turn the nights into mornings. The darkness engulfes me tonight, and I don't see a way out.I don't like goodbyes. They tell me that nothing is going to stay. Everything would eventually leave you and you'll be left with good bye which is not at all good. It's the feeling. You walking on road. People. Everyone one. And you'll keep walking and fish your pocket for a phone. Must've tried all the friends, just cut down the feeling of being lonely in the busy street.I promise. Will sleep tommorow by time. Cause I hate nights. And I will make sure I will never be awake at this time. Note it down. 2.16 am. And I know. I am writing something. And I don't know . The feeling sticks to me like leech pulling my soul out of happiness. Like some sad piano that keeps playing and never ends. And I wish one day the fingers get tired and the piano stops. No more sad. No more harmony. No more laments. No more of anything.

# To post or not to? #19 There are mornings I don't wish to wake up. Curl back to the bed, toil and make a cocoon where you'd last lay your head. Perhaps the winds were too rigid,the night was too stormy to leave. We were just drunk that day. I don't remember anything either. I don't remember the way your hands curled around my waist, pulled me closer and planted a kiss. I don't remember descending down the stairs. Or the way we kissed down till we reached bed. It was too fast to witness the action. And I didn't want to see anymore, I just wanted to feel. For a second let everything happen. Deem it a night of mistakes. One after the one. Well. Nights of mistakes now. Cause. I guess the daylight was too broad. The way we fell out of everything at the first ray of sun. The way you got up, pulling away your hand from mine. As I was the heat of the sunshine. You buckling your belt, forcing the thin linen of shirt around the shoulders fast. As if you're running from me, the night or the mistakes, or some guilt. And you'd never turn back. But then I know, there will another night. When the storms would be at dam, winds too fast, another night of lie, where we'd bury our mistakes by.

# To post or not to? #20 Kolkata. The city of joy. I have always wanted to see the city, cold and aesthetic, the evening, the people, the laughter and ofcourse, the joy. It's a beautiful night. Lights and lights. Food and chatter. Laughter and happiness. The daughter of the city is back to her place.For nine days. I am standing right there. Close to the empty street. Alone? No. Not this time. His hands are warm and all held tight. I fear, I would get lost in so much happiness, and the air around. The air that feels like drugs, and him being the catalyst in our chemistry, boosting my smile. I am looking pretty today. Exactly the way I imagined, big jhumkas, a red lehenga,with golden embroidery and blue borders. A churni with the same colour, giving the birth mark around my waist a little show. I am shy usually. But I know, today is mine. And I won't let anyone take it away from me. Not even myself. My hair has somehow managed to tame itself,as if said this morning 'live it and I promise not to interfere'. My hands are full with bangles, the glass ones. The ones I have dreamt of, the glass ones, the colorful ones you know? There is a bindi on my forehead, a small one though, it's a bit more on the left side, but who cares. I can't see it. Can I? Haha.Maa says, big ones are for married women, and small for the maidens. I miss her. I have payals around my feet, and they don't give the same joy as it used to with those baby shoes that made sound every time I stepped. Like every step counted. But they're still trying to compete. I am feeling beautiful. Feeling new. Feeling different. And I know, it's not just about the night, or the city, he also counts in. Right?The city looks even more serene in the night. A kind of feeling I can't hide. We are right around the corner, eating food. He like the movies they do, wipes of the chat from the corner of my lips. I can't help the laugh. It's like a carefree spring.And it feels like, freedom has come and kissed me twice. Blessed me twice. Blessed the city. Blessed the night. And I don't want it to end. This feeling is new. And I want to live it. Now. Now. Right now. A dream of ten years. Finally. Let me live it.Shush let me sing.

# To post or not to? #21 'Real men who love their wives prepare them for widowhood '. I don't remember where I read. But I remember it. Well and I don't know if it's true. Is it?When we love someone, we get so involved , that at this point we forget our ownself. We just go on with the flow of life. If I love someone, I would like that person to be happy-with or without me. After all, love never promised to stay together, we did. Love never promised happiness, we did. Love was never forgetting yourself into someone, it is finding yourself more. Does he tell you to learn to cross the road yourself? See the red light, and then see across left and right both. Then cross. I am here nothing will happen. And you learn it. You get over the anxiety. I am scared of crossing roads and hence this example. Does he tell you to get to go forward? Take your decisions? And I will hold you if you fall?Love isn't about calling each other baby, it's about looking at each other when they miss their mother. Love is basically. Just love.

# To forget or not to?#22 It's the time when you know everything is moving away. Connections, relations,friendships like someone just added a drop of lemon to the milk. And it will never be the same again. Good times, brings good memories, friends joy and happiness. Bad times brings, sadness, and this is the time you realize, who is your friend. Friend in true sense. And in hurts, when the one you thought would be with you, is the first one to withdraw. People save themselves first. It's a way to life. Do not waste yourself, on someone who is not willing to do the same for you. And you realize maybe, every promise was a lie. Every word was just a word. And every person is distant. And maybe the old school memories would bring joy for once. And then you'll feel this searing pain, and things are not the same again. And trust me. Who wants to stay does. And you've been wasting your feelings on wrong people for so long. And everything is falling and maybe the gravity has hit too hard. And the pieces of glass have made their way into your skin and there's blood. And pain. Everything is breaking apart. You , me us everyone and everything.

# To post or not to?#23 Right. I would never understand. I didn't when I saw you giggling to yourself and then I saw a book, tight around your hands. And you were reading. You kept doing it, sometimes you'd look around to see if someone thought you were a crack. And yeah for once I did. I have seen people, smiling seeing texts. Smileys and emojis and Ily s. It was tha last period. You closed the book down. You got bored. You stared outside the window with a too blank expression and then you wrote. For a second I thought you were crying. Maybe you were. You tore the paper right outside the notebook. Scrunched it throwed it in your desk. That page joined the rest, the balls of your thoughts. I am sorry, I didn't get a better term. I am not talking dirty. You walked out and I saw the papers. Unfortunately I didn't know which was your recent. Therefore I took them all. Filled them in my bag. I went home and read it all. And I laughed like an lunatic. Never halfed in years. You made me smile. You and your thoughts. It had people. I was one of your thoughts and it made me giggle. Yeah, better than those Ily texts or kissing emojis.A handsome piece of shit you had called me in one of those, describing every person in your class.I didn't know whether to get offended or laugh. All I knew was I wanted to get in your head and read you all the more. All the more and more. I reached early, market each paper of yours with an ink and threw them the same way it was before. I had written my comments over each of them. Like it was a conversation, and I knew you would never get to know, never read. Except that you did. And it was there where it all began. Just like that..

# To post or not to?#24 A long time after, fingers slipped, a chat with my old bestfriend. Dear diary, a ear for the ones, who want to speak, but are better with words, through the ink. A thousand secrets of the adolescence, confessions of love, the lost age. This was a bookmarked page. A page, filled with a strang of cupid's wings and a lovers phase. Some drops of pearls had managed to make a mark on the yellow page, and their lay a heart. Just a heart, a little tattered, a little old, a little folded, like it has gone through generations waiting for the person. My name didn't seem to vanish much. It's still there in some imperfect words. A hand cut heart out of a piece of love, a part , with small hands, promises to always be there. And something was felt. The solace, of being wanted for once. And this is how I remember, To be young, and in love.

# To post or not to?#25 Dear you, Yeah, again. It's me. Day 56, uh no sorry 57 time 3.54 pm. I am sorry. It's been exactly a year, and a little more. It's like this window. I come everyday. And the lights are on. And I know you're awake. And I know you won't speak. I know I made a mistake. 'A' would be an understatement. I made many. A little less than the stars over the horizon. You love stars, but you never loved mistakes. I remember the first time we met, you'd said, I hate people who lie. I hate mistakes. And I heard it, and I knew, I was making a mistake right then. Right then. And I thought over it all night. And I didn't wanted to loose you. Well you see, I anyway lost you. Funny thing. We always hurt the people, we never want to hurt. It's an act. And we do it. Knowingly or unknowingly. In my case, I don't know. I would call it my act of selfishness. I am. Very. I see the lights switch off at exactly two a.m. I see your figure roaming around,something pressed against your head,which I beleive to be a phone. Sometimes I would see dim light, and I know you're binging over the Netflix again. You never open the window. You used to. Now, you don't. Cause, you know. I'd be over the window, waving at you, with my old sorry note. Even if you open the window, you won't wave back, won't smile at me or giggle whenever I hit my head on the grill trying to somehow crane my head, expecting to reach your windowsill. Stupidity at it's best. I guess, we never know things, until we lose them. Every morning I pass a letter down the sleek space under the door, it disappears inside and I'd never know if you read it or just threw it in the dustbin. But there is a hope.Just like that one light in the dark. Dark sky and darkness everywhere, and just one light through your window.

# A letter to twenty seven, Dear Adity who turned twenty seven, Hey? You there? Are you sleepy? If you're, go grab a coffee, wash your face, tie your hair like that messy bun, and now start. So, twenty seven? Feels great right? You know, I remember the last letter I wrote asking you if you got into love and things like that. Even if you didn't, I did. Yes, a lot has changed in the past one year. Reconsiderations have happened. You know today morning, maa woke up at five . She took a shower, put in some offering to the god, started into making mattar paneer. Exactly the one I like. I am unsure if anything could be a better gift. At night around 2 am I was in a voice call in discord with a couple of people. A girl sang a song for me, and my heart broke. It means something to me. Yes I was covering my silences. Bunny called me, she dedicated like seven songs to me, we talked about things. It's been a while you see. And and and, I got some red roses. For the first time in life. Yes I had red cheeks. And yes I am smiling while I write this. In the evening I dressed up, into the suit I had abandoned six years ago, and it fit me surprisingly. Granny looked at me for a solid 20 secs, took a note out and nazar utari meri. I couldn't stop laughing. I went down then, got my cake. Yes the classic Blackforest tradition. And then went for a walk. I did my favorite thing. Walked down on empty streets taking pictures of what made me feel something. My shadow looked extremely pretty.I was a bit scared of going into the dark places. I am afraid. I am sorry. Talked to the people I love spending my time with. Honestly got into a little row with one. But I don't think you'll be remembering who it is. Where you are, I am unsure if you'd even remember today. You're getting fucking twenty seven. I hope you're doing what you promised me. Being yourself. I have realized it's so hard to be yourself without judgement. I am trying to get over it. I hope you've too.Don't drink much. And don't smoke. What is important everyday is to showup, even if you don't win the field. Boring advices from a teenager is basically what you need right now.Yours Adi,Weird but okay.

# Escapism or is it? Today is well today, 6th of October to be precise and the year 2021 just in case my future grandchildren might be curious to know. Honestly, these dates have always been for myself to know. To remember that the event or whoever wrote this, lived in past, by 10 secs ago, could be 10 months or 10 years, but I haven't ever reached the 10 year mark. I hope I live to see that day. I haven't written in a while. And so, I might have a little hard time expressing myself and dear reader, I hope you have the time to bear with me. I am grateful for it. Escapism. To escape the world. You must've heard it quite a lot with english poems and stories. The first time I grew acquainted of this term was in school. It was a story, a short story named B.Wordsworth by V.S.Naipul. I could go ahead and give spoilers, but I wouldn't. Anyways. So this story was about escapism. And it took me three reads to get the feel of it. The way the story would not shake of me for a while. But by Google's definition 'an activity, a form of entertainment, etc. that helps you to avoid or forget unpleasant or boring things'. It was different for B.Wordsworth and it has been different for me. Today I realized that escapism wasn't sitting by the window listening to some dark sad melody gloating and rethinking people. Escapism wasn't based on not doing the things you normally won't do, but feeling out of the world. I plugged in some earphones today. And went on a walk. The music was loud. And I made sure to walk on footpaths in order to not get sqeezed by a car like a little cat I am. It felt like you could see the world without the noise it had. The music you'd hear decided how it was. For me, it was this rocky music you'd want to dance on. I walked and walked. I walked till I felt the road ended and I didn't want to take another turn. Tracing back my paths, I didn't exactly wanted to practise my road memorizing superpowers. I walked into the terrace of my building. And kept walking in circles then. I was rather more free to dance and so I did. I danced. And when the music went off, it was dark. I hadn't realized how dark but it about ten minutes to six. Above it a picture of what it looked like. To me it looked like a picture I'd want to paint someday. And it felt good. Good to be content and tired. It's more voices in the head than in front of you. And I have realized only if I just heard the one in front of me I'll learn. Very weird post. Thinking to roll in everyday. Stick by I'll wish. But don't stay only cause I wish.

# Invalid page Here's a little something for you. A day. A heart wrapped in a sweatshirt. A cold winter with pecks of sunshine. The stardust falling off from your eyelashes like fairy glitters. The road, filled with the clatter of two souls, walking side by side. The street lights their perfect candle, perhaps a little brighter. Not enough stars to count in the wishes of a life falling of the subtle branch of potential. All the potential just turning into the ashes, sown back into the earth like it finally belongs somewhere. Empty canvases filled with white, a colour unseen, a little delight. The chuckle of a mad man. Words. Tons of them. Futile promises of a long period of time. A thief. Stealing away pieces when one could not take them. Stolen kisses. Never a heart. Pages. Pages, full of people, but not one alive. Time turner. Turns in time. Turned days into nights. A crawl into a stumble, a stumble into a walk, and finally he ran. He ran so fast, that he leaped through dimensions. Parallel words where skies were brown. The sea was solid and the land melted down. Cinderella never lost her shoe, why would you part with something that fits you so well. Perfection was a myth. Or even so, is it? A small offering to my dearest writer's block, XD.

# Guide to looking busy. To begin with, I didn't really plan this out. And so, I can't give this the catchy beginning that you, dear audience, anticipate. Ever got in places where your eyes just keep watering? Your heart feels a bit broken in petty things and your inner soul keeps on shouting 'why me?' . I am assuming yes, for if I was in your place, I would just look around to see if I have got a 'stalker'. Honestly having somebody obsessed about you; sounds amazing in a world where 'attention' is the new currency. Until the 'stalker' starts being creepy and starts killing people who you can potentially be with. Sounds similar right? Crime patrol or Netflix, depends on how much money you got in that wallet of yours.And I just got distracted. God. Where was I? I could again start about how hypocrisy lives in almost every human being, cause I am an atheist, but I make sure I bring god in places I have nothing to say. Oh my god! Did I get off the topic again?Back to our subject, life keeps on breaking apart. I have two reactions to it, I either let others sympathize with me, or I sympathize with myself before anyone else does.The guide to hiding your emotions publically is wearing a mask. It hides the way your lips give out your mood. Oh and dear mobile! Look into it. It makes us teenagers look very busy. I have never been a person who uses a mobile phone outside unless I have really important work or I want to look busy. So you look into the phone with a mask on, and nobody will suspect you to be having a mental breakdown mid-field.One very important thing to keep in mind, is you do not make eye contact with anybody. Eyes give away a lot, for example, the vision of accumulating tears ready to pass down through the corner of your eyes. So make sure you keep yourself looking very busy.There's a second thing that would work too. Personally tested and approved! You call somebody. Yes, call your mom, or a friend. I know most friends never pick up, but mom! Mom is this one person who is always gonna pick up, cause her kid is out in the world! Tell her what made you upset. I don't think I have ever heard something as soothing as my mom's voice. And after you let things out, you're back to okay without even a soul knowing about your inner turmoil. Plus talking on the phone is busy 101. Nobody will disturb you when you're tearing yourself out. Mom wouldn't judge you, and honestly, I wouldn't too. Seeking an ear to hear is very normal. Doesn't really matter if it makes you a mum boy/girl, what matters and would always matter is you?I may have gotten a bit distracted. I don't intend to tell people that tearing up with an audience is bad. It's really okay. But the fact remains, get to act tough, while you can.Save your tears for people who can actually wipe them. Lucky to even find one.So, look out champ! Got a world waiting for you :)

# Imperfect days. Reassurances. What do you tell yourself when things don't pan out the way you plan them to go? You tell yourself something that makes you say well that makes sense! . I have a bunch of these in my bag, for your nerves to calm you down. Disclaimer: these only work short term, not effective in long term issues. Not everything goes smooth in life. I mean obviously, who doesn't know that? But saying it, you just overshadowed a major mess up, saying a 'it is what it is' kinda line. You could use it for things you don't have a control over. But honestly, isn't everything out of your control at this point? What have you got to control other than yourself, assuming that you, dear reader aren't a manipulative human being. People have priorities. Hey there, did you get ghosted again? In that case, this is the perfect line that'd sell. Hence, when anybody spends time with you, and then stops doing so, you could just humm this line and turn into your 'bitch mode'. A human like me, would sit and name my priorities, and let me be honest, I'd name my career the first one. It makes you feel powerful, and aware of yourself- for three days. Yes! You got that right, that's the time limit for your hate hormones and your 'i am gonna be focused' slogan. Unless, you let the hate, and rejection keep flowing inside you and end up cracking UPSC! XD. Your defense to somebody having priorities over you, is having your priorities over them as well. You think that'll heal you? Absolutely no. It doesn't. Anyways . 'Not everyday goes perfect'. This is my favorite one, and I know you'd click your tongue and comment how it's similar to the first one. It isn't. The first one signifies an event, however this one talks about a whole ass day! Let me get this straight, your whole day goes crap, your friend puts a hand on your shoulder and whispers this gurumantra. Yes, it makes you feel better. Why? Because it radiates a hope for a better tommorow. Oh but, what is a life without a butt, I mean Instagram was filled with it, now YouTube has it too, you can see the reach. But, tommorow, goes the same like yesterday, trampling over your hopes and expectations of something better. You wipe the sweat gathered on under your nose and commit to an another tommorow, a better one. It breaks my heart dear, but you don't get a better tommorow, cause there isn't something called an imperfect day. It's a series. It's a series of days, a downward slope, which is directly proportional to the level of confidence you own. I wouldn't say there's no breaking out of it, because there is. I have got some tons more, but I don't really remember, you see, these lines stay in system for only three days. Unless you remind yourself of it again. This is it. Do some homework yourself, 'not everything gets spoon-fed into your mouth hole'.

# What made you so pretty? What made you so pretty? Was it the morning sunlight that peeked in to say 'hi' through the curtains. It couldn't have been. Maybe it was the rain this morning, that drizzled through the sunlight like fairy dust. What is it about your sleepy eyes? Was it the peas in the breakfast, that you, passed in your sister's plate sneakingly or the fact that you forgot your calculator on your way to an accounts exam. Maybe it was air, you felt touch your face and leave you wanting more? What was it? Certainly might be something about the day turning into dusk, the sky turning into ash. It must've had something to do with you, hasn't it? Don't tell me it was those heap of assignments you failed to turn in before the day got over and let it slip once again to the next day. It could've been those books, the once you studied, for they're very much capable of turning someone, dull and pretentious, but no, not pretty, or are they? Wait, did I- ..Finding ways to get over blocks..

# A letter to Mr. Sticky Notes A rant. A love rant. I am aware of how you may be illiterate. Maybe because things were written into you, and not in front of you? If you could talk, youd remind me of how I never really completed any of my goals. And that writing water 5 liters and sticking it up over the wall wont make me drink water often. To be honest, I like people who talk less. The last kid I ever liked was 6 months old and no I am not talking about my ex. So this kid, I liked him he resembled a dumpling and he was too tiny to talk(gee gee ga ga sounds do not count- I find them cute). I think people prefer your kind mostly because you do not talk. Otherwise, we already have parents to remind verbally of the goals you could never strike off. You could be counted as the most ignored materialistic item in my room, after my calculator. I am fairly happy about where this is going. The only thing youve come in use so far is pretense. For some reason, humans feel that things hanging over the wall are important. For example, a photo(with or without a garland). I as a human loved taping the wall with my timetable which I never in the world followed through the second day. Though the fact that my dad loves white walls and these tapes after getting ripped off would cause considerable marks of failure on the wall, restricted me from using tapes. This has led me to the day you could call the day I brought you home. Youve been very helpful ever since. I stick you on the top of my daily journal with do not read lines. It provides me with the feeling that those instructions have not been violated and that my secrets are safe. However, humans love doing things that theyve been barred from doing. It's like, you may or may not read this shiny green color diary-looking thing lying on the table, but since now it has been written with do not read youll be reading it now. Might find the treasure map in it? It is exactly like those horror movie kids that would want to go into a haunted house and call the ghost out like it is going to come out and do a welcome thing(which it does, just a little violently?). Youve been chosen as the recipient of this letter because it is safe. I initially thought to write it to a living creature, but the possibility of them going ahead and reading is certainly less, but not negligible. This possibility is threatening. Especially when I am writing a letter thats just sarcastic and failed humor. Maybe this is my outlet for letting things be. Maybe I need to drink 5 liters of water daily. Maybe.Until then,see you on my wall.

# A letter to you! We are getting washed away in ocean waves. I wont tell you what we signifies. But we are. It feels like nothing will be left. It will be all gone. I do not know how to stop. These wuthering stakes. I am really trying. No, actually I am not. I am trying is just default template reaction to everything. I dont think well live. Well get pulled into the depths of ocean, and well die with our breaths touching each other. I would not mind. I really cannot- I do not have any witty puns or anything you can chuckle about. Just plain vulnerabilities. I do not know if youll remember him ten years down the line. I would. Like something engraved. Like something even a blind person can feel if not see. But we all are mostly blind, arent we? Cant see anything properly other than the mirror. This is the last time I am writing you this. I will not again. This will be a crypt. Well, it is a crypt. In the philosophical sense. All old buildings become crypts the moment they're finished. A shrine to a time that's already dead. -Krystal Sutherland, Our Chemical Hearts. My time is over. It will not walk back to me. One of those things you think, will be okay to put off, but then its attached to your soul. So you end up ripping your soul with the other persons. If I were a mermaid Id be rich. Because I never realized that you could fall in love with humans the same way you fall in love with songs. How the tune of them could mean nothing to you at first, an unfamiliar melody, but quickly turn into a symphony carved across your skin; a hymn in the web of your veins; a harmony stitched into the lining of your soul.Krystal Sutherland,Our Chemical Hearts For everyone out there, Our Chemical Hearts is and always would be my go to place. I could sit and read every line and it justifies everything. Like passing me a tissue paper? There are perspectives. There are people. But the realities shall always overpower fantasies. Maybe your fingers wont touch while you walk together, and definitely wont when you walk away. I could add the whole book if I could. But these lines help. Okay heres a last one, I know you want her back, kid. And I know that people saying things like 'there are plenty more fish in the sea' is only going to make you hurt more. And I could tell you all about the science of what your brain is going through right now. How it's processing a pain as intense as hitting a nerve in your tooth, but it can't find a source for that pain, so you kind of feel it everywhere. I could tell you that when you fall for someone, the bits of your brain that light up are the same as when you're hungry or thirsty. And I could tell you that when the person you love leaves you, you starve for them, you crave them, Heartbreak is a science, like love. So trust me when I say this: you're wounded right now, but you'll heal.Krystal Sutherland,Our Chemical Hearts Does it not sound like a good news? To know that youll be as amazing once again. Youll be and Ill be, all of us and its going to be really okay. Please do not wish to be a mermaid. This was just me and I had to let it out. Ill go now. I wont come back. Do I ever come back? No? Ill see you around.

# essence of a human I have been proved wrong. I thought what makes a song touching was, the person from who it has been recommended from. Lately, I have realized that it is not the who recommended but it is the who you think about listening to it. A song could mean everything to you in a particular time, but then suddenly, you do not like it anymore. You forget about the song, just like the human, you would think about listening to it. Its called moving on. And when some moment years later, you hear it again, all you can think about is how it used to be your favourite. And isnt anymore. But the smell of the person still lingers around, of whom you would think listening to that melody. Songs are like stories. You listen to them, you just keep doing until the story gets old. Old and same, vulnerable, you think about how it is like a repetition of life. Youve been looping your life with that song of yours and shall remain until you stop. Its a temptation. Its enticing. It makes you feel alive. But are you really alive if youre in a ridiculous loop of the same time? Isnt it more like an addiction, or a habbit you cannot get rid off? Youve been stuck thinking about the same human being with the song that would make you think about you and them. Do you wonder why you cant move on? Youve been looping your life. Hopefully, for me a day will come when that song will not make me feel something. The story would feel old, and I would not feel a word, but today, I do. just a little some realizations, comment and let me know which song makes you feel. ;)

# Daily Digest-8th April Life when I grow up will be different from what it is now. And I really mean it. My thoughts haven't been able to escape the heat of Kolkata. Theyve become roasted and dark. You could add them with some poha and theyll surprisingly taste good. Youve a few questions and I can find you the answer , Whats the purpose of this? To find my expressions. You see, writing has been my form of expression to the world. I have never been able to understand the purpose of things I do. But then it is for you to trust the process. Youre doing it right now too. This is sounding utterly nonsensical to you, yet you're sticking around. I cannot however guarantee you if the end of this will satisfy your literary craving. Where am I? Mentally or physically? I have realised that my reflex action to something that should dangerously unnerve someone is weirdly normal. For e.g. person: I had an accident while I was picking in tomatoes. Me: Did the tomatoes reach home safely? Mentally I am in the household of Jaya. Physically I am in a library. Theres internet services provided here of which I am fairly happy about. I can do this at home too, but the idea of being in a workspace with rules and regulations makes me more effective and thoughtful. Who is Jaya? I know youre still itching your head over who is Jaya? Jaya is a failed writer, or say a writer who hasn't quite yet bloomed. She is also a housewife and a mother. I think she is going through a turmoil. It's in her mind. You think writers should be able to express more, but here Jaya isnt able to voice her thoughts. She is stuck and I am concerned. It looks like her primary job is being a wife and shes been failing at it lately. She likes something but refuses to accept it because of judgement from her own husband. Not going to tell you the name of the book until I finish it. How was my today? I snoozed my alarm at five and woke up at five past thirty. I was late but managed to catch the first metro. I think the best part about today is right now. The classes went fairly well. I realise that I have to go back catching the metro again. Going home feels like walking back to a cell. Following the same schedule of a nap and then ceasing into books. Silences? I have realised that I like silence. Like? No, I am addicted to it. I like the sound of my fingers against this keyboard. The sound of a fan, and my own breath. I am left alone. Theres no one telling me what to do. People are weird, they feel your pain and they give you remedies. But they cannot see it through your eyes, they surely just cannot understand. Ending; I do not know how to start a pc. Ending this on something I learnt today. You see, I have a laptop at home that I borrowed recently. I owned a PC back in 2012s and it died. Today when I was told to switch on a PC I started the monitor but forgot about the CPU. I called in the staff to tell her how it's not getting started. She came cautious sensing a major problem but started laughing when she realised that I haven't even started the CPU. embarrassed of myself I mumbled I dont have one at home so I didn't know . her laughter stopped immediately as she apologised and said it's okay. I don't have one at home either. My son is your age only and I found it warm.

# Clear All This writer here wishes to do so. Below will be a rant of what I feel about love. Or something I know about hate. There are two things I do. One is that I give, and the other is what I take. Do not get your mind twisted here. We are talking about words. Plain grey words. Why grey? The last lover that left me said he learned many things from me to which I asked, all good things I hope? and he replied Life is not black and white. It is grey. And so there are both, positives and negatives that I have learned. I could not comment any further on this. And so we, go grey! love and hurt? Something I read a while ago, is that love and hurt are synonyms. I have not written or diagnosed it but sometimes I do understand why. And I have seen it. I have seen the hurt, and I have seen the love. It's like loving something in so much abundance that your heart yearns for it. It isn't all pinky promises, it isn't walking on roads with hand in hand. It isn't love at all if you've never hit the lows. and it would not matter if you weren't there What could be the most hurtful thing you have ever heard? maybe something like an I hate you or an I do not love you anymore , it could be different for different people. And for me, it was this. Your heart will divide itself into pieces when it realizes that, its presence there or not would matter. That you've been fighting with your loved ones for something that is not even remotely yours. That kisses on lips or cheeks were just sensations of an empty mind, which could never be turned into something real. We should just kiss like real people do. Symptoms of a fresh bleeding heart When love is not returned, your heart gets empty of giving love and never receiving any. And so what do you do? what did I do? I sat reading books about love, convincing myself that love is nothing more than a chemical reaction and that it will be over before I even know it. That is the only hope we got. A small reaction that can go decades, or a day even. Nobody is supposed to be blamed right? The problem with a bleeding heart is that it gets tired really fast. It loves too much or does not love any at all. The good part is that you get used to it. It will not bother you anymore unless you're skipping nights of sleep listening to music. Where do the daisies grow? - ending People search for love in flowers plucked away from the trees. They search for it everywhere, but under the sleeves of the ironed shirt, or perhaps a hot cooked meal in the between of summers. They search for love over the phone while people sitting right in front of them are barely visible. I do not know what to say. I haven't been able to find a place that allowed me peace. From college to home and home to college, if not there, we walk from the aisles of the evening crowd, wrapping an egg roll into the tight fingers, of my hand but then I have to be home. They do not provide any peace either. It's just an event. Want a place to stay that allows me without sweeping away in the crowd, want a lover that loves me while I sink my fingers deep into the packet, lick off the spice through my tongue. ENding- last How many endings do we need Adity? We need only one, but it should be happy. Boo. Cliche. To be honest, we are never at endings. Just chapters end. Which chapters are yours? Are they really yours, or are they mine?

# A letter to twenty-eight! Hey? Now thats, some age to get. Being twenty-eight is some scary shit, and one should not do this more than once- not like they do it again. I am so blank currently. I feel like my sixteen-year self had more perspectives to offer than I do. I am clueless. What is it? What are you doing? Are you there yet? I am so scared. Are you there? And do you still drink after every achievement like I decided seven minutes ago? I am really bad with the perseverance part as of now. Have we managed to fix that yet? You know, being eighteen here, does not change a thing. I think we dont just magically grow adults in a day, it just happens so slowly, and then one day youre eligible to not be requiring parental signatures on every piece of the document(P.S. I love it). One more finding I have known is that people cannot be fixed. You cannot fix another human being; they cannot be your kintsugi piece. You cannot fill in gold through the gaps, it is expensive (literally, physiologically), and might cost you, you. I am looking forward to you. I hope we are where we wanted to be. Still, seeing that guy? I can already hear you mumble under your breath, Which one? and to this, I shall answer, the guy you promised a forever? And damn, this is getting tough, that does not help me narrow down the investigation miss youll say. I have had my pretty time idealizing love in different ways. I have faced the loving someone' and then getting loved part. And I can guarantee, that getting both in one love story is indeed hard. But I have managed that. This year has been some rocky hill like every other year. But here we are? I hope youre living because I definitely am not? But then I and you have been a picky eaters, and would just very casually pick the things we like and enjoy those. But I have stopped those picky eatings. Food is scarce, having it at all is the part you should be happy about. I hope youre getting all the deep meanings because it took time thinking about these. Look, I know every year, I tell you what am looking forward to. This year, let's give us some space to breathe. Loosen up maybe, and nothing specific, just a better myself next year. I hope that goal is achievable at the least. Ill drink to that, cheers. Would love to hear from you just in case theyve made a time machine yet, With Love, Adity, Eighteen-year-old you.

# Dear Adity(26 wali), Note from the Author: Almost everything that I write has two reasons. One is expression. Second, protection. Protection from what? from these constantly changing thoughts. I am afraid to never feel the same things again. So like my old jar, I protect it. Here's something I wrote turning 16, a letter to myself 10 years down the line. You'll find my 17 and 18 versions as well. I really want no part of me missing. No edits. Just whatever in plain words. Dear Adity, Its weird to get a letter from your past and its weird to write a letter to someone ten years away. We both are weird this way.So, twenty-six huh? Hows life? Youre really looking pretty. I hope someone told you that. And also, I know no one needs to tell you that. So where have you reached? How far?Do I sound like the neighborhood aunty calling to know your goddamn result? Maybe I do. But not a piece of paper this time. You know we are the same. Youre just a better shade of me and I am a lighter shade of you. We both envy each other. Dont we?Youd give anything to relax, sleep and be back to the days when studying was the only tension you possessed and eat great healthy home food. I would also do anything to get the freedom youve now. Being independent has been one of my dreams. Hey, are you in love yet? I know youd be laughing at how I am able to connect everything with love. Young and in love -with words remember this line? I hope youre in love with someone the same way youre in love with words. I know you.Money is earned by everyone. Earn relations. Earn people. Earn love. We dont stay. Perhaps, we do something that our stories live even after we dont. Years after years.You know, basically, I have a rough image of howd you be. But this letter is just a reminder of who you are. Before being anything, youre you, youre me. So, be it. I love you. Cheers to being twenty-six. Happy birthday. I cant say I miss you, cause I have never met you. But I hope you miss me. We cant even meet, you know. They say it leads to some paradox shit, not that I have time- turner anyway. I hope you are amazing, even if youre not. Youll be. (p.s. learned the word hope from some guy, not that Id be discussing my love affairs with you) Your sixteen year old self, Adity

# Brains of the Dead Brains of the dead his or mine, Destinies rewritten, stars intertwined Gentle stabs of leather into the skin A blood-colored sheet of him Skies full of feathers, A birds snow or a blanket to hide under, Pitch-black highs on a lovers cry Dangled feet sank into the reflected sky.

# 234 The pavements and roads made a cross, and buildings leaned against each other like they needed support. The sky was pitch black; the streetlights formed dark shadows following whoevercrossedthem like a rebellion had been spotted. This particular night, all the lamps had ceased their shower in a symphony. The little light makers had taken up the responsibility. Sounds of two heartbeats could be heard but none saw. I was there, right there, standing by. If youre wondering who I am, youll get to know me sooner. But at this moment, I was a spectator. Two women by the dark of the road stuttered out as their feet spoke. They had ragged breaths, with hasty steps as they walked into my parlor or they already were in it. I do not think they needed any light, as they seemed quite confident about where they were to. I did what I had to do. I followed them. This interests me, they smelled of something familiar, and I had to see what it was that connected us. I saw them cross a bridge. I heaved a sigh from all the work I had been doing. They gave occasional glimpses to the back, and I could see their eyes lingering on me every now and then. They did not mind my presence or they did not see me at all, either could be true. The older girl looked like she was in her late twenties. She wore a pink dress that reached her knees and a brown cardigan over it.She could be a tree, easily, just upside down. Now that the light of the moon reflected through the water, I could see a bit of them. The little girl could have been around thirteen. I saw the girl obsessively look at the water. Her body leaned over the rims of the bridge. I waited for the older girl to pull her back, but the older girl herself stood in a lifeless manner. If I had to stop her, it would be too late. Seconds ticked by, and I waited for the deed to take place. I think life snapped back to the older girl. She pulled back the little girl hard enough to fall back to the middle of the path. I wont let you. You cannot. It has to. I cannot live like that. well find a way. Theres no way. Not if you dont help me. The older girl gave a promising look I must say. They buzzed in light hushed tones. They continued their walk to the other side of the bridge after a few nods and what Id call courage. After a few steps, was a cottage. The building was old, and the paint washed off in a few places. It was dark except for the ground floor. The girls walked into the building and onto the reception. I could see a couple of men lurking around the doorways as their eyes strolled around the girls. The girls made their way through it. As soon as the receptionist had laid an eye on the girl, he made a call. Room 234 he spoke as he put his gaze back to the register. The little girl drew closer to her sister with each step she took. They walked upstairs to the silence. I followed them upstairs. I wondered if theyll look at me the same way they looked at those girls. However, nobody batted an eye. These girls went up the stairs. A man in his thirties had opened the door. He did not speak a word, just opened the door wide and waited for them to welcome themselves into that strange room. Room 234 had two spaces. The older girl sat next to the man while he looked at her. She signaled her younger sister to sit away. So, youre here after all? I am., said the older girl. I told you; you would not go far; youll have to come to me today or tomorrow, said the man smiling with these golden teeth out. It was either that he did not brush or something else that provided the color. The girl looked with her eyes out. I could not say if she was nervous or planned to live with this man double her age. Her legs were agitated; I could see her hands putting into fists. The man saw no response to his statement and so continued to speak, your little sister, is she? Shes pretty. A little less than you may be. Hey, you want to sit near me little girl? I have all the chocolates you might need. It was a mocking tone, and it did not sound well. It had proved to make more of an effect on the older girl as she grew an inch more affectionate to this man. Would you like me to pour you a drink perhaps? said the older girl standing up and drawing close to him. That sounds well the man replied. The older girl poured in the ice and then poured in the drink. On the rocks you, see? He took a sip and then a gulp. He drew closer to the girl. Leave me. shrieked the older girl. Oh, now youve got a voice I see, what if I dont? youll run back to the other side of the bridge? Go ahead. But how would you live, wheres the money? said the man while he tightened his grip on her hand pulling her closer to him. Please dont do this, you promised something better. Said the young girl. Oh, and you did too, shall I have- the speech was disrupted by a heavy push. It has caught the man off guard. The little girl had gotten on her legs and pushed the man away. You shall see! the man had been angered. He went from the older to the little sister. His hands engulfed her neck. She struggling tried to loosen the grip. You want my hands on you as well, dont you? said the man in outrage. Please leave her, please leave, she doesnt know who youre, she is small, please, please, see it would not be good if she dies. It would not be good. You have got a wife and kids. Perfect life. The older girl whimpered as she tried to take the mans hand off her sisters neck. To my surprise, the mans hold had loosened. What the girl said had made sense, didnt it? He got up from the ground and sat back on his armchair. His drink had started to get warm. Who likes their drink warm? He gulped it down in one go. Ayy woman, come here, be mine, else you know. He warned the older girl. She got up and walked to him little by little. He caressed the locks on the side of her head. Her face was the last thing he saw before his head dizzied. The room was circling around, and the man could not see anything. His soul was loosely wrapped in a wretched cloth. I had trouble taking it, as even I, found it filthy. I did not know if this kind of lifeless day would be wished for by anyone, the way he knew he was drowning in alcohol, whereas it was his own soul that emptied him like a rotten boat. All I know is that this man was missing three teeth when his body was found. The two girls were nowhere to be found. They left a while ago, letting the man sleep in peace, or perhaps rest? It is now that I know. These girls smelled of me. They smelled of death. -Adity Shah

# A couple of hers if I wereher-1 Mom cried the first time she saw me go, I was happy, and I told her how my first day of school was. She did not look at me. She stared into blank space. I could see my reflection in her now glassy eyes. They looked like looking at the sidelines of a beach. A high tide was due. She did not blink for the seconds I did not count. When she did blink, it was pulling a lever to a dam, and the water made its way to the city. It started with one small drop, a rain's warning, but more drops followed. I shook her, Mom why are you crying? Arent you happy?. She did not hear me. Was it a game? Minutes later she was back to me. She said Lets celebrate our first day eh? and we walked down holding hands, with her asking what else happened today? and me going on about it. what if? -2 Today she was home late. The liner against her eyes was smudged. It was a daily thing, and so whod notice? I never did. But today there was a different abruptness in her actions. She tells me to never eat in bed. She ate in bed. Her hands were shaking while she held one end of the spoon. Had she gotten so old in a day? my eyes followed her figure through the dark. She was done and had turned off the lights. As she slowly slid in under the warm bed sheet, there was nothing. I think she was asleep. I waited for her hand to land on my temple, as shed pat me to sleep even if I was already asleep. It was her love language. She did not speak it that night, or if she did I would not know. I feel asleep waiting. midnight memories-3 It was midnight when I saw it. Can you guess? may you guess? No. I saw something. In beneath the sheets, the awful darkness that engulfed us, her and a movement. I had woken up in the middle of the night and felt as if the bed had been shaking. A soft muffled voice hummed through the pitch black night. Was it a song? An answer. No. It was her beside me rolled into a ball of her despair. She tried her best to keep it as soft as it can. It was not music. It was a cry. A cry that took me too long to understand. It was not music. It was not beautiful. I saw broken parts of her that were wanting to be stitched in back to her. But it would still hurt. It did. But I would not understand, for I fell back to sleep. ----- work in progress-------

# shuffled 12am I do not think about you. Or I did not, until now. I am over the feelings. I am over the giggling until I cannot anymore. I am over the thought of thumps up mixed with alcohol. I am over the lying mid road, waiting for a car to meet me dead. I am over the lots of things that I cannot remember, and it proves very much that I am over you. Adi, you were so much of a me. And I felt you drifting away. And the funny part is that I let you go. In fact, more than that, I packed up your bags, held your hand and led you out that door. I keep thinking about the few bangs over the door. The rusted breath. I kept wanting to let you in. I knew you wanted to touch me. Hold me and shush me a night, make love to me, make me feel how special I could be, but I am not. How could I not? I kept thinking about the time we spent together, and the day when I said, you know you are always welcomed Adi. You smiled. You smiled. And I knew itd be everything Id want if you ever asked for what I wished for my birthday. I never knew songs could smell like that. Every song that you draped around my body like an oversized shirt. I felt like itd all Ill ever need. Maybe we need more to live than I can count down my fingers. I am a lover, or an ex, or a passerby. But youll know, youll know soon. Youll know who am I. I will make sure you do.I tried to write. My words have been void of emotions. Izi said, people never steal part of you, you just willingly give it away. And when I packed you up, and away from me, you took some beautiful beautiful parts of me along with you. Maybe you did not care. Maybe those parts just lie under your bed, deep within, you never clean that in, so it lies there forever. Not that I cannot make new. And thats what Ill do. Ill make new Adi. You know me. And I am sure, I took away some of you. I have contained them in my words. I have put them in a jar, given them shape, and slid you in the old pages. Perhaps, I knew Id hate it all. And when I do, Id need you. And thats where Ill go. Maybe you feel youll never be in love with anyone ever again. I feel the same. I feel like, I can never be able to know why we arent together. Somethings are just mysterious that way.

# A Day in the Wild Today, I was out in the wildlife. This is what I'd say as a student who spends most of her time indoors. I had to get an admit card for my upcoming exams at college. I just want to describe a series of events. The first thing that happened was that a lady fell between the metro gap while boarding the metro. Another lady helped her back up. For some reason, my reflexes were rather slow. When I saw the scene, my intrusive thoughts went like, What if they start the metro now? She got up, however, it took a little while. I was just standing at the metro door with my shoe against it. I did not want the metro to go without me. I finally moved in when she got up. She had a really huge book held in her hand, it was Elements of Mercantile Law by S. Chand. I wondered if she had exams and that would explain the situation pretty well. I am light-headed as well during exams. Once long back time I was so busy revising for an exam that I was about to miss my station at school. It was by the grace of my friend(nemesis) who asked me You do not want to take exam? nice It was one of those scenes. It was a little heroic to say. He took my hand and we ran out of the bus. Not to mention I had not even paid the bus fare. You could say the whole bus was waiting for my stupid brains to work better. I did not pay the fair in the end because I was too baffled by the idea of I was just about to miss my exam . In pressure, even the money bills are non-traceable. You'll never find it on the first go. Anyways, back to the metro day. Some middle-aged dude in the metro said, The metro gap is so huge anyway, and she faked a smile. He didn't know he was not helping in any way by telling her about the humongous jaw-breaking metro gap. I shifted my attention to the other things around. I did not want to converse back to the girl as she had enough attention for a day and probably did not want any more of it. We got a seat, we sat. The next thing was that I found a little baby girl, and her head and nose were really small (so were her feet and hands). Her eyeballs were too huge for her eyes, they looked adorable. I just kept looking at her the whole ride. I would also check station arrivals every once in a while considering I have a history of missing my station busy looking at toddlers. So this young lady kept checking every human on the metro and then proceeded to eat her hand. Ihadto check if she had teeth, and I leaned down to see inside her mouth. She didn't have any teeth. She was not much of a smiler, she only smiled when her mom said something, which was not audible. Another lady was eyeing her with the same cheer I had. We exchanged smiles and glances. I could tell she was also finding this little one's company lovely. You know, when you smile, your eyes narrow, and I have a feeling that cannot be faked, much of it anyway. I got down at my station and proceeded to walk to college. There I got to know that I had apparently come on the wrong date, and the whole purpose of my visit was soiled. I did not feel remorse as I was probably decaying at home. A fresh breath of smoke was all I needed maybe. I stopped by a breakfast restaurant before getting home, had pav bhaji there, and calculated the amount of space I had to squeeze in some noodles. AND FAILED. After standing in front of the menu for 15 minutes, I ordered some Dhokla to go for Granny and told myself I was one amazing person because I saved money there. These out-of-nowhere pats on my shoulder make my day go. I also decided I'd get some momos from outside. By the time I reached outside, I was impatient and just wanted to be home. Oh, and I saw one more child. He was making monkey sounds in the whole place. On second thought, it was probably louder than a monkey. Respect to parents. I had around 10 notes of 50, and I was counting how much more I could order, and suddenly, this lady, out of nowhere, came and said, Can you give me a change of 200? You'd give it to them anyway. I was spooked for three seconds as she was probably eyeing my money. But what she said made sense, so I gave her four 50s. I got that 200 broken again by the store. The monkey child, oh god, I imagined putting a whole bread bun in his mouth so he would probably just stop screeching so much. On my way back, I saw another toddler. She got into the metro and she swirled on the pole thrice in a row and very quickly. I went Woah, crazy. Her dad told her not to, and she, like a nice child, did it more. I loved that. Okay, yeah, that was it, I got back home and slept for two hours. It was raining heavily, the air was misty, and everything was amazing for a while.----image taken from: https://in.pinterest.com/pin/575616396134807362/written by ME. LOL.

# Missing Why are you missing? Therell be days where you meet people, and there will be days you do not. The point is, realization can hit you at any moment like a frisbee right in the gut. Where have you been? Where were you when everything happened? What were you doing? To a student such as me, I did not had answers to this. I think there are days when you feel very insignificant. Maybe you think, your worth is proportional to how many people go like Ah I wish she was here. When you realize theres not going to be anyone do that, you start to sit back and really think about what have I been doing? .The answer to this seemed pretty plain and dull. I could sum it up in one word and to dull it out even more, I did not even stumble. Think about this. When someone asks you, tell me about yourself you fumble and you stammer, you even do some thinking. It is probably because there are so many things about you, a plethora of information that you need to filter and put the relevant parts in your speech. So it to me indeed seems like a bad thing for someone to be so definite with their answer. Okay fine, lets do this.What were you doing the whole year?Studying.There, you have it. You broke me out and you gathered a very significant piece of information about me. This does not seem right, there must be other things too. Yes! I thought the same. But most and major part of it was this. Anyways. Lets get through the details shall we?So on a 30th of December of 2023 when I decided to fix my wardrobe, it lit up a part of my soul.I started with what I had majorly to deal with. Books. And even more than books. Copies. So many copies. A copy for this and a copy for that. They were not empty. They had infinite information that I had completely forgotten about. I looked through each copy trying to grasp the relevancy of it. Keep or throw? I started with looking at my accountancy copies. I had started with 3 of them and we were at a whopping 5 accounting copies now. To add to that, I had taxation written in 4 different copies. With law I had settled for two and that was a shocker. Costing had me at three copies in the end. To add to that I had 2 copies for tests purposes and one for audit. I had really been a copy maniac. But these copies were filled to the brim and I could not really throw away any of it. I resorted to restructuring the copies in a better and cleaner manner. You know the point of this is, this is what I was doing all year. I was studying and I was writing and I was doing something. And regardless of what happens tomorrow, Ill have this with me. So, cheers mate. You were not missing. You were present in your own company. You created something.Also heres a list of other things I did.Learnt Chess. Watched anime. Mastered composure. Wrote a few things left and right. We dreamed to draw a bit of animation. Oh, and we really dug into the whole Marvel universe until the endgame. Oh right and I like Katara. So theres that. Got a new calculator. We had a crazy music era. But it ended, and so do most things. Lost and never found maybe. Yes, this is how it is going to be.

We can walk down the aisles like we'd get married. You can get a ring that's merely a loop around my fingers. And if I could play our life in loops, I'd still want it. hearts on hearts, mind on mind, we could be nothing but halfs of each other. I could be the evil and you could be the nice. You could be pay for something once and I'd fall for you twice.

The sound of laughter, the vision of a smile, the lips curving into a half moon, spreading across the face, reaching ear to ear, the narrowing of the eyes, the act of doing it, and the act of you doing it because of me, makes me happy, makes me do the same act. We are two horses across the chess board, you there for me, and I for you.

I write stories for you but they are too long to read. My paragraphs are hefty, my words do not make you sit, its a too much of a google to visit. So I look for music, the one that could carry you and me along with a symphony that could touch a heart. You know there's no feeding anyone can ever do. Will. Will's there. Do you have it? Do I have it?

Sundays. I have done all from crawl to cry, from laugh to fly .These days are the beginnings of a week usually, and for me, an end. Sundays have been like that night's sleep we all require after a long day. To me sundays were both demonic, but also something I'd look forward to. Sunday mornings were nothing but bike rides, mixed with vegetable bargaining and heat. Heat of what? summers? you must be wondering. No, it was the heat from the freshly cooked puri, that'd steam out and hit my fingers in a flirty way, go slow go steady . I was incapable of eating anything without having juggling the leafed plate in my two hands, desperately trying to be able to rob the pleasure of that one bite. What a fight! Papa would help me through the chore, with the steeled hand of his, he’d hold the plate, while with the other he’d tear a bite. I’d phoo in it and crumbling the aloo that tried hard to slip away, but not so easy I let it, the joy finally reaches my tongue. This is what is yum. I lived for this. I lived for the Sunday mornings. The day that comes after the mornings is demonic, after faking my studies the whole week, Sunday was the day I’d be caught. A weekly check of progress, what’s been taught? I’d make up things to cover my tracks, a plan with uncountable cracks. My dad would immediately smell the guilt in my lies, and that’s how the whole day flies. He’d cross check each of my fake made accounts and my discrepancies are all out! Sunday was a working day for me. I’d study more that day, than any all week. The evenings were gloomy and called again for another bike ride, we’d cross lakes, and see the lights flicker and then bright. The leaves rustled to a song, the wind danced and made my hair sing. I opened my arms until I was bonked on the head, “this is madness” he said, probably why I have both my arms intact to my set! A Sunday there was when Papa was tired. And the next Sunday too. The Sunday after that he was busy. And the Sunday later, he did not like it anymore. Thanks for reading, end of my lore.

Another letter, a last one. Come to think of it, I just stopped after a while. I deleted those emails, I made sure every bit of you was gone and washed off me. But then like the ocean tides, you cover me at all the high tides. On a day you're shallow, you barely reach my fingertips and you're pulled away by the currents and at night you cover me whole like a blanket, and the warmth keeps me up all night, waiting for the while I'll be cold again.

18 march, 2021 Leaves fallen down all the way. A few trampled, a few bended over the joints, yellow and dried smelling of some old love. I wonder if these leaves ever felt remorse for not ending up in someone's diary? How beautiful it would be, to be picked up and loved? I wonder if these leaves just got old, or did they fell ? Why are love stories, that ever lived always were always incomplete? Why does this cupid's arrow feel like hell. This lady,I remember would gather all these leaves, every morning . Her old arms stretching in and out, occasionally fixing her crooked spectables. Sometimes looking at me she would give a silent nod. She smiled at times looking at the kids playing by. She would spend some time gathering these unwanted failings and then looking at the children would silently walk in. She'd toss the pile away in the fire. What a good flame? A flame of fallen life about to die. I wondered if it was a way to burial. A memorial to the ones who couldn't make it, or stay intact in the harsh winds. She'd at times sip through the tea and look through the window. Awaiting a storm, or perhaps rain, she'd wait for the autumn to come and a few more leaves to fall, knowing she's not the only one to do so. A written commandment of love over the yellow leaf, had lived through the years. And he's yet to come. -the leaves that didn't make it through the pages.

“what is it to be alive?” “ it’s a lot of things, buts its mostly about how we feel.” “what kind of feelings mom? Is it liking the way I feel about cotton candies? The sweet and soft and pink. Or when we lay down across grass?” “no dear, its never just those. And it will not be like that always.” “no no no, I want it like this always. This is called living. You said it was.” “ I wish my darling, but to be alive is to feel. And feelings are all kinds. Some can make you feel hurt.” “ is it the way, when you get angry mommy? That makes me sad. Is that hurt?” “ If you don’t eat your vegetables I’ll be angry and it’ll make you sad but I will not be sorry about it my dear. But what I am talking about here is different. Sometimes you’ll feel like you can hear your heart beat. And you’ll feel your skin shrink. People shiver. And sometimes they try to stop it.” “stop what mom?” “stop feeling. they try to stop feeling. But that is the difference, between living and dead, one that does not feel is destructive. And one that feels a lot, is self-destructive.” “ mom do people die when they are sad? Like aunt Helen” “ Aunt Helen was very sad. But no, my dear, sad is a feeling. You cannot die of sadness. But you might if you stop feeling. That’s when the heart stops and people live on” “But she had a heart. I heard it when she hugged me. It was beating well.” “ ah my dear, it is a little too mature for you to understand. You’ll know when you grow. People think one is sad for what is wanted and not reached, but sometimes, and I think most of the times, its about craters. Holes in people, like a screw knocked into them nicely and then ripped out at a go.” “mommy, I am old enough. You say I am a big girl. I tie my own shoelaces. Even the uncles say I am smarter for myself. I understand. You’re talking about the holes we made on the wooden table right when we tried to add this screw and it didn’t look good later so you took em out. Now the table looks like cheese from the sides. Hahahahahahahahhaahah” “My my, the kind of things you remember! Your uncle wasn’t lying about you! Now enough of old mold talks, you’ll end up really bored with your mom soon if we continue this way” “ No time with you is ever boring. Mom, you know, you, can tell me if anyone makes you sad. I’ll tell them to stop making you sad. I am a big girl. Even my friend in school, she tells me when someone makes her sad. Then I tell that person to not do that. And everything gets okayyyy. ” “My little chirpy, you know, back in those days, your mom, I walked on such thin ice, one step I’d step a little too hard, and I’d fall in cold water. It gets you numb, cold water. But I managed to come out of it. And when it feels like water could not get colder, and the ice was thick enough, I’d fall in again. A different place this time. But that’s how you learn how to walk, and swim when you feel like drowning. Even when you feel numb, but one part of you would always remind you to, live, and keep living on? Who knew I’d have such a beauty like you. If I knew I’d absolutely live for you.” “…” “Cherry? Ah, she slept in my lap.” The mom landed a kiss on the little sherlock’s head, and so that’s how the evenings end.

What do you wanna become when you grow up? a mother? pfft, that lacks ambition,anyways, tell me more. A wife? I would like to have this beautiful library, and a garden, we can learn about life and death in there?I'll love the part about loving and being loved. I'll fight, and I'll resign in his arms each day. I'll paint on his nose while he sleeps, and kiss him and manage to get the paint on my nose as well. isnt that pretty to think of? stupid, that's like planning to live on someone's money, you'll never be able to be independent that way!!! okay, then I want to be a writer. Or maybe a reader? I can teach, and learn. That'd be great isnt it? No, pick something better, like something with plenty of money? what the goal, how much money you wanna earn before you die?I dont..I wanna earn enough for to live, and manage expenses, but I don't feel any thirst for money Hmm, guess you dont dream as big...shut up, all I wanna be is happy. You get to choose what makes you happy and everyone claps about it, why not me?

Where do the daisies grow? – ending People search for love in flowers plucked away from the trees. They search for it everywhere, but under the sleeves of the ironed shirt, or perhaps a hot cooked meal in the between of summers. They search for love over the phone while people sitting right in front of them are barely visible. I do not know what to say. I haven’t been able to find a place that allowed me peace. From college to home and home to college, if not there, we walk from the aisles of the evening crowd, wrapping an egg roll into the tight fingers, of my hand but then I have to be home. They do not provide any peace either. It’s just an event. Want a place to stay that allows me without sweeping away in the crowd, want a lover that loves me while I sink my fingers deep into the packet, lick off the spice through my tongue. ENding- last How many endings do we need Adity? We need only one, but it should be happy. Boo. Cliche. To be honest, we are never at endings. Just chapters end. Which chapters are yours? Are they really yours, or are they mine?

There are two things I do. One is that I give, and the other is what I take. Do not get your mind twisted here. We are talking about words. Plain grey words. Why grey? The last lover that left me said he learned many things from me to which I asked, “all good things I hope?” and he replied “Life is not black and white. It is grey. And so there are both, positives and negatives that I have learned.” I could not comment any further on this. And so we, go grey! love and hurt? Something I read a while ago, is that love and hurt are synonyms. I have not written or diagnosed it but sometimes I do understand why. And I have seen it. I have seen the hurt, and I have seen the love. It’s like loving something in so much abundance that your heart yearns for it. It isn’t all pinky promises, it isn’t walking on roads with hand in hand. It isn’t love at all if you’ve never hit the lows. and it would not matter if you weren’t there What could be the most hurtful thing you have ever heard? maybe something like an “I hate you” or an “I do not love you anymore”, it could be different for different people. And for me, it was this. Your heart will divide itself into pieces when it realizes that, its presence there or not would matter. That you’ve been fighting with your loved ones for something that is not even remotely yours. That kisses on lips or cheeks were just sensations of an empty mind, which could never be turned into something real. We should just kiss like real people do. Symptoms of a fresh bleeding heart When love is not returned, your heart gets empty of giving love and never receiving any. And so what do you do? what did I do? I sat reading books about love, convincing myself that love is nothing more than a chemical reaction and that it will be over before I even know it. That is the only hope we got. A small reaction that can go decades, or a day even. Nobody is supposed to be blamed right? The problem with a bleeding heart is that it gets tired really fast. It loves too much or does not love any at all. The good part is that you get used to it. It will not bother you anymore unless you’re skipping nights of sleep listening to music.

I like my pictures lonely. The way it feels like it was spring the flowers forgot to bud and bloom, like a day the night took over. Like the places you never wanted to go to, but you did anyway, not regretting even bits of it. Like half assed moony smiles, the state of confusion between, to smile or not to? Like dark nights, the way I despise them, regret waking up every night, buy still find peace in them. Like a story that started from the end. But all stories start from the end, don't they? I like my pictures like the locks that keep falling on my forhead, and get pulled back behind my ear. Yet, stubborn they're back again. I like my pictures like the half eaten pizza I couldn't finish, and throw away either. I still regret not wanting it then. I like my pictures like the stars that didn't twinkle at all, insecure that the moon is worth more to be watched. I like my pictures like soil, just after it rains, and the way it tries to just sink you in. But here's what,yo u do not like rain and so let's take the sun. I like my pictures like you. Just like you. Sunny on a winter morning, just the way you like them. The same very way I like you, without complexities of how or when- That no certain part I want, but all of it. To like you enough to never love you. For love sure is a ton of beautiful messes. I might already be in one. I wouldn't want you in. But you might, just come. Maybe.

It's funny how people keep on moving in life, meeting new people, doing everything they can do, clinging on every new appourtunity, and here I am stuck over some old street, your messed hair and the nervous smile, the old. And it feels like nothing new, can ever make it up, no one else. It's that some feeling of something missing. And I know, I've been missing the part where I was just I. -Missing part.

He feels like home. He smells of it. He feels like something so fragile and delicate, and at the same time feels like the stormy wind that broke the vase with tulips by the table. He feels like the pearls as if gently left over the shores by the sea waves. The same waves in which the Titanic drowned. And so did many others. I might too. He feels like the stone, in which somebody tried to carve his name into but stopped halfway. And the pain, it lives in him. Still. He feels like the rain that brought floods to some part of the state and the other was the one I danced under. He just feels like so many things. And I could never just stop feeling him. I end, or they end in me.