The Cost of Passion

It has been said for a while now, that you must not leave this earth with words still inside you, songs unsung, canvases untouched.

I am an 18 year old, currently absorbing the myriad hues of Rajasthan, pursuing a degree in dentistry and living a life of passion and imagination, trading my scalpel for a pen.

But passion can cost you heavily at times. You may lose the comfort of a home, the people you love and risk anything and everything just to remain true to your being. Regardless, there is nothing to regret because there is no deeper fulfillment than knowing who you are,beyond name and form.

In Angelou’s words, ‘There is no greater agony than the story inside us’. And so, I begin el viajé de mi corazón to stitch torn stories, sew new ones, analyse history, thus creating an account of my devotion and complete surrender to the things that enflame my soul.

Welcome to my world. 


You decide.

The world breaks every day and so does my soul. And when the pain is so immense that it simply cannot fit into the sturdy walls of my heart, when the tears just refuse to fall, it is then that the world cannot take it anymore. It is then, that the sun enflames the ocean furiously, the winds proclaim war and thunder runs with charge.

People call it Disaster. I call it Payback. For this is how I save myself. This is how the world saves itself.

It punishes. It forgives. It heals. It hopes.

If you stand on the verge of insanity and absolute peace, what will you choose?

My madness feels so empowering, it exhilarates my nerves, like I can somehow conquer the earth, just by keeping this fury alive. Maybe I was born for this, to feed this raging storm, to heal these blistering wounds, to be the havoc, humanity must brace itself for.

But, my calmness feels so wholesome, it resonates the sound of my soul, like sunshine in winter mornings, like reading Tagore and savouring saundesh. Maybe I was born for this, to fade into blissful nothingness, to breathe and let light fill me, all I need to do is, just be.

I know that I do not know which way I must go. If you stand on the verge of insanity and absolute peace, would you choose both?

Sweet Findings

And the story continues….Part 2/2

It’s been 28 years now, he has not returned. She doesn’t know when she stopped waiting but it has changed her. Times are rough, and her means are meager, but her heart is whole and her soul is content. She is a calm storm, worshipping Durga, selling anklets and bangles to tourists, and sometimes if you care to hear, you can listen the melancholy notes of her sitar flow through the narrow lanes of Gangaur Ghat, rich..dark and delicious. And yes, she still is very much in love. But this time with the right person – herself.

On nights she used to find solace in darkness, and consolation in sharing the same moon with him, she now closes her eyes and has the entire blank sky all to herself.

On days she used to spend counting the constellations lighting up the iris of his eye, she now counts every breath bringing her close to herself.

Self love, afterall, is the purest form of love. 

Soft Rebellion.

A lost tale 

This is the story of a lost woman I chanced to meet last year. Hope you enjoy the read. Part 1\2

 She woke up to the sound of bird song amplified by tainted marble walls, sunlight wafting through the khadi of her floral ghagra. To her the sun is a huge golden orb studded with rubies, slowly melting into the glittery lake which is now her home. At a distance, she watches three girls clicking pictures, engrossed in friendly banter. But one of them seems so in awe, entranced by the beauty that surrounds her…and something in her laugh, the spark in her kohl rimmed eyes takes her back to her own youth. She too was just as young. Just as tender. Just as reckless. And so in love…Her father was a spice merchant and since birth she was used to a nomadic way of life. Myriad tastes, odours, colours; endless languages and dialects filled her memory…so much to see and feel, a feast for the senses and yet her heart yearned…to belong, to call a place her own. Her longing intensified with every passing day and finally ebbed away, when she fled away with the man she lost her heart to. He was everything she had ever asked for. He made her boundlessly happy, happiness gushing through her like waves, stopping at the corners of her lips and settling into a smile. She packed his lunch that day and sat on the couch to paint her nails,waiting in sweet anticipation of his return. And wait, she did, that evening, the next..and the next.

Perhaps, there is something deeply agonising about sunsets. Even the most lost of birds come back home, then why wouldn’t he?

New home

Today I knocked at the door of your heart in hope of surviving the post December cold. It took several knocks before you finally heard. I said, ‘Mine is too broke, I need a new home’. You said,’Find elsewhere dear lady, this place is full’. The cold sent shivers to my spine and I really knew no other way, so I dared to sneak into your house, your heart only to get drowned in an endless ocean, gasping for breath. Your heart I found was a jug filled to the brim, with things you left unsaid, with thoughts unseasoned, with fears unexpressed, with tears withheld. A tower with a thousand chambers.The locked chambers was where, your feelings lived like caged lions waiting to escape. By now I was thoroughly confused.. why was your heart fenced on all sides while mine had an open door? Mine was a cloud with a tap, I could pour it out on empty canvases and coffee mugs. Sometimes it drizzled, sometimes it rained.But yours was like a volcano waiting to erupt, an explosion I could hardly bear.I roamed and roamed trying to find a key to open all your locks, to empty all your chambers and make some space for me. The relentless night then told me that you threw the key long back to a place it could never return from. A new day arrived and my tired feet realised that the only shelter I needed was inside me.

In search of the Truth

Woke up from a very uneasy sleep and decided to finally find the answers to the questions I’ve been asking myself for quite some while now. I don’t really care if it takes me all day, but I need to try and find an end to this suffering.

Perhaps the cruelest thing fate can ever do to you is give you everything your heart desires, offer complete and absolute bliss and then stealthily snatch it away from you. It is difficult to accept the ordinary once you have tasted perfection. The natural instinct of a human in the given circumstances is blatant denial, to accept that such a thing could happen to me, unable to absorb the shock, I immediately enter a state of withdrawal. I cannot accept the words, ‘The world is a dark, harsh, evil place filled with endless pain’. No, I simply can not. In this part of the world, in MY part of the world, ‘magic’ has always existed. For some reason, I have grown up believing that anything is possible, anything is attainable by simply wanting it. Fiercely. Passionately. Therefore, my reflex was to somehow find ways to sort up the mess, not realising that this time the damage caused is irrevocable.
For indeed, an artist’s worst nighmare, is waking up to the bullshit people call ‘reality’. I have observed that if a thing is truly ‘yours’, in the purest essence of the word, it will unconditionally return. Recent incidents have tried too hard to deter this belief of mine. In this sadly, they have been thoroughly unsuccessful. I have not and will not stop hoping. 

But since I have some time to spare, and writing this helps putting things into perspective, I have allowed myself to consider other possibilites. For instance the idea of chasing fame, fortune, happiness, love, without realising that it is an illusion. That true happiness lies within.

Sounds good.

Until I realise how pessimistic of a an approach it is towards life. How can we digest the concept that everything that lies ahead will eventually be unfruitful?

The human race is biologically programmed to want more. There is no end to human endeavor, we’re undisputedly the most ambitious species on earth. Sure, being satisfied in your current means is beautiful, but in my opinion, not trying to improve your way of living and/or refusing to use the capabilities of our amazingly wired brain to its fullest potential is pure laziness. No religion or belief must prevent us from experiencing life and finding our own distinct truths.

I am yet to find answers but I continue to hope, that my questions will not go unanswered.