dil thoda jazbaati hai

bhar jaata hai baaton se / if viewing on email, please go on the website to read it properly thankyou <3

Jul 15, 2022

The title is from a song by A R Rahman. It means - This heart is driven by emotions, it gets fulfilled with mere words. With scant rainfall, and only words keeping me company lately, I feel like this is the sound of monsoon for me.

There’s no respite in the rain this year. I wake up, I hope for it, and then the sky just replies in empty promises. Hope is prayer, praying is hoping; the only difference is, hope is the most selfish version. I give up in the eyes of the world but in my heart, I am still waiting by the phone, by the door, with my screen staring back at me.

Raat Bhar, by Vishal Bharadwaj and Meiyang Chang

I know you might find it a little hard to believe, but it is thundering right now, and it is like maybe the sky is trying to play one of its old games with me again. Maybe he is apologizing for all the holding back it has done the past few days in July (rereading this the next day while editing, and I have to let out a bitter laugh, is this about the sky or is it about you?).

How has July been for you all? It has been full of anxiety for me, and I keep feeling restless.

Emergency announcement! It is now raining! I went and opened the balcony door, stood there for the last ten minutes, wrote all of this in my head and now I am trying to reproduce it on the screen. Stream of consciousness, except the stream is rain being blown onto my face due to the wind.

I feel like I am back in all those stories Ruskin Bond wrote about monsoon, and childhood and growing up. I think my relationship with gender got warped because of him as well. Why am I not a boy with broad shoulders running naked in the rain?

I discovered Vivek Raj Singh’s photography on Instagram about a couple days ago. Safe to say I am obsessed with his work, as this perfectly encapsulates comfort for me. Please do check more of his work out, it is absolutely gorgeous!

Back to our conversation. July. Full of anxieties and a horrible perception of myself. I cannot seem to get past this one hurdle in my life - my ability to be my own person. I am aware of it, I used to be that, but right now I am not a person at all, merely a puddle of emotions. I had started this year with the notion that I would be able to clean my life, find a neat pile of relationships and words and love, and keep them stacked on my study table.

What has happened halfway through the year is that I broke my table, my life has fallen on me, and all my relationships with people have dissipated into an ugly mist.

Okay, I sound miserable. But that’s some of the truth, some of the pain.

I have been journaling, writing, doing whatever bits I can to be the person I used to be. I am convincing myself that this hard phase will pass as well, I will be better. I feel like a neglected child sometimes (cue laughter in the background), and I wish people were nicer to me. And then I shake my head, close all messaging apps and remind myself about how the world works — I am on my own, I will always be on my own, but the world will take me places, and for that I am grateful.

Still, I wish someone would make me their go to person, you know? It is pathetic sometimes, to be wanted, but I am done with the wanting for now, it doesn’t get me anything, doesn’t get me anywhere. So yeah, if any of you are looking for a heart to stick on your wall and throw darts on, I am available on all business days. Weekends are for, or well, used to be for long walks and trying to figure out myself through others. Selfish selfish selfish.

This is now the next day, and I was standing on the balcony right now, thinking about all the wrong choices in the past few months and how far I have come with things. I cannot help but think about S, someone from school whom I have grown into a perfectly rounded friendship with; imagine one of those marbles with something viscous inside — pretty, solid and pretty solid. He has seen me grow up, helped me take a few decisions, and has heard me fret about my relationships with amusement and patience. In a conversation that took place a few hours ago, he said he was proud of me because I had a virtual consultation with a dermatologist. It was touching, and I told him so. I said, maybe life will happen to me this way — my friends being proud of me for the bare minimum. He replied, in his sensible, balanced way; well the bare minimum is huge from you when it comes to self care.

I couldn’t help but think of how he has seen me in school, and how he must have perceived me. I always thought of him as a smart boy, and now I see him, all grown up. He has turned into a thoughtful man, who will go to the doctor with you, no questions asked, and will always tell you that you can do better than whoever you are obsessing over at any present moment. What else do you want, right?

Maybe this is my way of thanking him for turning into a friend, when it is especially hard for me to make friends; because I am not nine anymore and because the world keeps deceiving me.

Thinking back about the past few weeks, I cannot help but go a little further in the past. I think about how 15 year old me would feel seeing me right now. Maybe laugh a little, maybe be grateful that I got out, or have at least started the process.

The nicest part about this year has been how I am now slowly on my own. I get up, get going. The other, not so nice parts all fit very nicely in my pink bag, and then I lug them around the city, and make everyone uncomfortable.

Talking about carrying things around, I have some things that I have been bearing since my teen years. One of them is, not sharing what is sacred to me with everyone. I just cannot talk about things easily. I used to think this strictly applied to art, but turns out I cannot talk about people and relationships either. I will talk, I will hastily confess things as well, but all in some perverse passivity; these things did not happen to me, I am writing a story you see? Don’t believe everything I say! But the truth prevails, this is my life, and it’s breaking me down.

ad vice time

Advice for 18 year olds?

Oh well, I am only fifteen myself but I will try.

You’re at the cusp. This is not going to get any better anytime soon. But it does get better. You will have to go through a lot of painful nights and dazed afternoons to get somewhere. Parents sucks, ex best friends suck, the world is but a ball of thorns. It is not okay. Nothing is fine. You were twelve once, you will be twenty nine one day.

All your words and feelings will add up. Be honest. It is okay to be earnest, but it is not okay to be easy to mould. Write about yourself, stay up and think. Eat healthy, eat eat eat please! Make plans, think about things you want to do, and do them. Save money. Listen to songs alone, and walk around alone and remember to be a good friend whenever you can.

You are eighteen but you were nine once, and that nine year old lives inside of you still. Carry that child tenderly and only go to places that will not terrify her. Excite her, yes, but don’t make her worry about you.

Goodbye, this was bullshit!

There’s construction going on near our house, and the people working there play songs on their phone on loudspeaker. If I sit by my balcony door in the afternoon during their lunchtime, I can hear them laughing loudly and listening to 90s Hindi songs. Here is one I really enjoy. I think they have like the same 50 songs downloaded, and they play it on loop. They are like me, for real.

The song is called Kaisa Lagta Hai from the movie Baghi. A little background, the movie is titled Baghi: A Rebel for Love. It stars Salman Khan and one of the most popular doe-eyed starlets Naghma (she did gain immense popularity when she expanded her domain from Bollywood to regional cinema as well). Salman Khan was popular for his wimpy frame, passionate romances in his films, and his innocent eyes. Rightfully so too, might I add. This movie is one of the best love stories. Despite being released in December, the album was the sound of summer.