CAUTION: Work in Progress

In conversation, a friend of mine mentioned I deserved the happiness that came my way. Me deserving happiness is a concept still so unfamiliar, also because I had these weird ideas of what it actually meant to be happy. But after talking to him(Him, Yes him. I have male friends, its not unheard of!) I realised I was truly happy because I was doing things on my terms (I promise not to pull a Warhol on you guys!)  Reminds me of something that stuck with me ever since I first heard it:

“Tell me Edmund, do you have someone special in your life?”

“Well yes, as a matter of fact I do.”

“Who?”

“Me.”

“No, I mean someone you love, cherish and want to keep safe from all the horror and the hurt?”

“Erm…still me. Really.”

Why is it that we lose sight of us being the most important people in our lives- is it because society decided to term it selfishness? Who decided selfishness is a bad thing? There’s an entire ethical theory which stipulates that self love is brilliant as long as it doesn’t harm others.

Why do we thank or blame whatever supreme infinite we believe in for everything that comes our way? We’ve worked towards it(or haven’t), haven’t we?

Why do we keep undermining ourselves? Our self worth? Why do we keep looking for reasons to be happy?

I’m yet to come across someone who is happy, just because. Everyone says love is a beautiful feeling, so fall in love with yourself, your strengths, your weakness. Stop looking for happiness outside, its right there, within you.  Smile, laugh, dance all you want, cry if that helps (your eyes may burn, that’s not too pleasant, but to each his own!).

YOU are the protagonist of your story. YOU are the author. YOU are the editor.

YOU are the architect of the days to come. Alter your structures as much as you want.

Because at the end I guess all we are is- Work in Progress.


*DISCLAIMER: These are ideas we have all come across, and I won't claim credit, but these also ideas that need reiteration. 

ALIFEROUS

A question I've been asking myself since I got here, here being the University of Kent, is YKD why so free?

I confess, I ran away, I ran away from all the negativity, pollution, pointless pressure and most of all I ran away from anything that manacled me. You my gentle reader might just have been a manacle itself, but I'll let you live in suspense. I don't actually blame you, I thank you. Without you, I would never know how much I love the taste of freedom. 

Where in the overpopulated cities of my country was I going to walk around with a cup of coffee post 12:30 am? Which bus was I going to take in Delhi, alone, to travel 10 miles to pick up groceries? Who was going to sit with me at a picnic table at 11:30 pm to discuss something entirely inconsequential? Who was going to travel with me to a museum to attend a class? Who was going to travel back with me? By train? Post 10 pm?

The autumnal colours of England welcomed me with such affection that the girl who prides herself on being lost, found herself- In some alleyway, at an overcrowded club, dancing the night away converting each of those manacles into blisters on the soles of my feet, so easily cured with a little warm water.

Don't for a minute believe my love for Dilli, or Bombay or Calcutta or Home has diminished, because it hasn't- I still miss the monuments of Delhi, the feel of Dilli, Bombay ki baarish, the spirit of Calcutta and the comfort of Home, but I am also in Love with the victorian buildings, falling leaves, respect for traffic rules, I am also in love with the cobbled streets of Canterbury, the lit up Cathedral that I see when I stare out of the large glass windows of the library, I am most of all in love with who I am in this place-Uninhibited and Unapologetic.

Post Graduate studies it seems give you so much- friends, family and freedom.

I met people, some running away like me, some running towards a goal they set for themselves. I met people who in this short span of two weeks have provided a comfort earlier reserved by friends of over 7 years. I met people who don't feign interest at my slightly strange observations but add to them, I met people who can rival my sarcasm, I met people who encourage my academic endeavours, I met people who want to help me grow, in more ways than one. 

Thanks to them, I no longer filter every statement. I no longer apologise for having a contrary point of view. I no longer hide behind a facade- calm and proper. 

I am messy, my thoughts run wild, I overthink much to chagrin of all my friends here.

With great joy, I discuss academia-in coffee shops, under trees, at bus stops and sometimes even in restaurants.

With great pride, I occupy a tiny space of the Undercommons.

I'm ready for my slice of the world.

I am ready to fly, and this feeling right here, is the wind beneath my wings.

Adulting 101- Wine, Women and Words

One of my friends told me, ' You know you're an adult, when you can order a full cake with no reason to celebrate.'

It sounded a little far fetched to me, but tonight as I picked up a book that should have held my attention I realised what I was really craving was cheese and crackers, at 2:38 am. I walked to the kitchen, pulled out a coffee mug and filled it with wine, pulled out a few crackers and walked back to my room. I sat down on my bean bag, wishing it were a couch, and began to read, two pages later, I looked around me, my desk had a pile of paper (so daunting a pile, that, I refuse to go through it), my coffee mug had wine in it, the fan was on but I was wearing warm, fuzzy socks, the leaves were rustling in the breeze, outside my window and there was certain calm in the ticking clock, the arms of which were stuck at an odd angle (I had forgotten to replace the battery, again, I don't even know what I've been so busy with), the calendar pages were still displaying February and in that moment I felt like one of those women, the ones you see in movies, stuck in the monotony of everyday existence, sitting on the balcony(or maybe some deserted cafe, away from people, yet right in the middle of the bustle), holding a book, sipping wine, lighting a cigarette, a slow smile, a lost countenance, with their feet resting on a table.

What I think of most right now is, when did the hand-beaten coffee turn into wine, the origins of which have no value(unless, of course you're one of those that can afford one those bottles with a fancy label), when did it become so normal to walk to fridge and pull out a wine bottle at two in the morning, that too, on a Sunday night! When did I start owning a wine bottle? When did we stop caring? why did these things begin to bother us? And if not, why didn't these things bother us? Was it just me? Was it a problem with our entire generation because when you come to think of it, we were all ordering those cakes without occasion, we're all sipping wine out of coffee mugs (a mug of chardonnay, perhaps?) at odd hours. When did we begin looking for assistance to escape into the world our books create, when did it change from books being an escape, one where just books were enough? When did we start requiring externals to feel that internal happiness? What is it with us millennials, are we growing up to soon? or are we growing up so fast that even we don't realise it? I don't know the answer to most of these questions, but maybe, just maybe, these are things we don't want to realise, we aren't ready to realise.