When I met you again

When I met you again

In this lifetime, in my city, in front of me—
Different name, different face, different time.
But it was the same you.
And then it was the same me.

First, it was the words you said,
Then it was the way you said things,
Then it was that triangle of moles on your arm.
Or maybe the way you liked to wear dark colors.

Again, it was the way you missed mom,
And hated laundry.
No, you didn't like dogs now—you liked fishes.
No, you didn't hate corporate—but ruled it.
No, you didn't run marathons—but you were still a mindset warrior.

You even gave me a daak nam in Hindi,
Without knowing...
I have been given the same name in a different language before—by you...

Salad love was changed by ramen love,
But it was the same me,

Sitting at your feet, 

Resting against your legs and eating, 

Same us.

You saw me, just as you have seen before,
But you saw a bit more…
Because I had grown a bit more…
And you had evolved more too.

But we were the same.
Walking together..
Your grip on my arm,
Your hold on my hand..
Your hold on me.
Your presence..
Your soul.
It was the same.

I couldn't have you before,
And no way I can have you this time too.
But it's the same soul tie—maybe even deeper.

Sometimes I feel, I invoked you in my life...
Not sure if it's a good or bad thing…
But it's definitely sweeter.
The voice is sweeter.
You are sweeter.

You very rarely say “you are mine”—because we know you can't.
But you have said it before,
And I know you mean it now too.

This is how I have known love.
And this is how it will be always known to me.
Love means—your soul, and the way it fits me…
Each time…
Even when I grow out of it…
You also grow and come back and fit better…
But you don't stay.

And that leaves me, here.
Knowing as I have always known you.
Missing you as I always have, and always will.
Sometimes you come as a life alternative,
Sometimes a simple faith…
Always looking for love.
But you never stay.

Maybe because, as they say—
Love is not enough.

What are the chances I meet you again?
Life is long, and I have already met you twice.
You recognised me each time on first sight.

Will you find me again?
If you do—will you stay?

I have said bye once...
And I don't know how to say it again.

Sometimes, one lifetime truly isn't enough.

Till we meet again.

I don't wonder who makes your coffee now.
I don't wonder what perfect future you are planning in your times of rest.

I know we all find peace.
I know you will too.

I wonder where I will be then.
There was nothing any one of us could do.

P.S. The last goodbye

https://wherethestreetshavnoname.blogspot.com/2020/02/i-wonder.html

When the Soul Wants More Than the Ego Can Handle

Sometimes, the soul wants more than what the ego can handle.

The soul whispers —
a silent nudge, soft yet loud enough
to break through the deafening drums of ego.

Even when the ego has built
a beautiful, almost perfect, convenient life —
a bulletproof mirage —
the soul knows.
And deep down, you have always known too.

Ego can move mountains.
It can build kingdoms, forge victories,
create dazzling realities.
It is a force in itself.

But when the soul speaks,
its truth is so final, so absolute,
it feels almost cruel.
It dissolves all the smoke, all the shadows.

In every ending, a choice:
Either ego wins,
or the soul.

When the ego dies, the pain is loud.
Words are spoken, faces change, arrangements shift,
the world reshapes around the rupture.

But when the soul dies,
it is silent —
a scream so deep
only you can hear it
even in your most blissful, carefully constructed moments.

We must choose one.

Strength and Inspiration

A person would need two things to sustain this life, to grow, to be great – Strength and Inspiration. 

Lucky are the ones who find strength and inspiration both within them. They find their way and have the will to walk on it. Some carry the strength within, and bloom when they find external inspiration. Other few carry the inspiration within, but wait in lives for someone to give them the strength to create their inspiration.

Strength and inspiration is an addictive combination.

She had always had Strength. She had him, from as long back as she could remember. Strength had come to her; she had had the strength and the sturdy anchoring which only an unconditional love can provide. She continued to be in love for there was the strength, the stability, the routine. Strength made her feel she had everything for she didn’t know what to name what she was missing.

Then one day, she met Inspiration. Strength was plain, earthly, solid coloured; Inspiration was like a starry sky, like a rainbow. Intoxicated, she followed Inspiration, the chase tired her but she always had Strength with her.

Strength is like that, rooted, in one place, and because Strength is yours, you know you can come back to it, always. Inspiration, knows no roots. It has the speed of its own and it’s not in its nature to stop, because its nature is to inspire. So she went after inspiration, and she went on till Strength couldn’t hold her back. She could feel the Strength weakening as she tried to catch Inspiration. Two steps forward, one back to Strength, she was torn. God forbid anyone who has to choose the love between Strength and Inspiration. It is an impossible choice. She continued to be torn, till life made a choice for her. 

She is now learning to find the strength within her. For without strength, Inspiration is no good. But then, without inspiration, what good is strength for.

The addiction to struggle and the #whatnext problem.

Born to the aspiring Indian middle class of 90s, one things which has become more clear to me over these past months of 'pause' is the inherent addiction to struggle. Struggling, not resting, continuously striving, 'hard-work' was the mantra for 20-25 odd years, to gather enough escape velocity to 'make it' in the standard Indian terms. I myself watch my being an addict to the continuous nature of strife - to the point, rest/leisure periods do not 'feel' natural. I would rather complaint of a burnout, than being in a slow burn 'boring' stable job. There I said it.

I romanticized for the longest of the time for a steady 9-5 job, which would let me do 'other work of interest' and 'live my life' outside work. The strange nature of universe is that, when you spend enough time and emotion and thought in something, it eventually materializes. And hence I started seeing such opportunities. I started witnessing more space in my day. Questions arise - have I become more efficient or have I become redundant? Or do you naturally become redundant as you peak?

Should I change jobs now, should I set another personal milestone now, should I move countries now, should I learn more about investing or scrum methodology now...the bloody list is endless. You see, I realized to my dismay, my nervous system has been conditioned to a state of "What Next". Is it a blessing - sure. Is it a pain in the neck - you bet.

Sadhguru asked once, once you have your job and the wealth you aspired for, what are going to do next. The paradox of "What Next" has almost become a joke. Some have it easy, they explore the dimension of raising and rearing a family they can emotionally invest into - which is biologically gratifying to answer the question of "What next" and "What more". Rest keep themselves busy, playing zig-zag on corporate snake and ladders, and defining and enjoying their own meaning.

This job that job, this country that country, this house that house, this restaurant that restaurant, this stock that stock - it is almost amusing how much we over index on certain variables to give routine and vision to our lives, that too in 2021!

My point here is...in a world where the planet is literally burning, and people are deprived of basic necessities, if you are privileged enough to be sitting and reading content on LinkedIn...then what do you when you reach a point beyond struggle?

Are you there yet? How does it feel? Is it worth it? Am I oversimplifying it? Or are you addicted to complexity and struggle. #justsaying

Floating in the sea

 Change is the only constant they say

What are we doing, here if not floating in a sea
We think and think and think, we do and do, and try and do
At the mercy of currents, of the mercy of the flow of life…
What are we doing here, if not floating in a sea

Looking for floats, looking for anchors,
From one to the other, the other to another

Excited on crossing every wave,
Every storm, making it to the clear skies

Proud, sad, tired, week, happy, lost,
Dreaded, relaxed, excited, confused, mad, obvious
What are we doing here, if not floating in a sea

We find communities, lovers, jobs, hobbies, recipes to mind our time
We think the float and journey will be from one beautiful island to another

We pick and choose and decide what we think and think and think
We try and do and try and do next time,
At the mercy of my will, at the mercy of my mood …
Tell me what are we doing here, if not floating in the sea

We look for anchor, we look for the destination,
What if the sea itself is the anchor,
What if that destination we seek, is an entry into another sea, as we keep floating
At the mercy of winds, mermaids, rains…
Some seek adventure in the waves, others in the sunshine, others just let the journey be
Tell me what the hell are we doing here, if not floating in the sea

Change is the only constant they say.

It changes people, relationships, needs, desires, aspiration, status, love, cravings, drive, health, status, from one level to the other.

People come and go, and we feel our anchors losing, jobs change and we fill our identity's changing, economies, business models change, and we feel our ground moving.

And when nothing is changing, we change our perceptions, needs, desires, demons, angels…they all change.

Looking for the anchors elsewhere I realize, I am the anchor. I am all which my soul has got, rest I have no idea no control no visibility over.I am just floating, trying way too hard for way too much…so many games to play…. I'm floating. But only if I weren't so tired, only if I could be with the one whose presence envelops me, protects me, touches me…all gone you know why?

Because change is the only constant they say

I Wonder

I wonder what you do on Sunday afternoons now,

wonder are you still toying with that vegan idea

did you get that dog,

did you get everything you said you gonna get,

does it feel like you thought it would,

does it feel better?

I wonder who you talk to now

wonder if you think of me

I wonder who makes your coffee for you

I wonder if you shop anything new

I wonder if someone else wonders the same for you

I wonder if these thoughts come from curiosity,

or that I still care for you,

I know I expect nothing,

but I wonder if my words are true

do you still sleep at 9.30, do you still struggle with laundry, do you miss mom,
do you ever feel alone?

I wonder what future you are planning in these days of rest,
I am sure it's a perfect picture
I know am not in it, I wonder exactly how much is that I have lost,

I wonder how much will I recover

I wonder when would you find love again,

I know we all do,

I wonder where will I be then,

there was nothing anyone of us could do…

Dear society, I have achieved the ultimate Indian upper middle class dream.

Dear society, I have achieved the ultimate Indian upper middle class dream.

Can you tell me what next?
Because you know what I miss here?
I miss the small cost at which the happiness used to come

I was elated once on being able to buy a simple white tee
Was exhilarated the first time I cut, curled, straightened, styled my hair
the first dress I bought, the rush of sporting it on a flat stomach
Done that

Was elated with the rush when my crush first responded to me
and then at every step when the partnership grew to a new dimension
the butterflies, the violins, the rainbows, the rock bottoms
Have toured them all

The first taste of professional success and recognition
From the struggle and a sense of being lost,
to a professional with a trust in her own abilities
From being shaken at every small change of tone,
to actually riding the corporate ups and down with an utter sense of passiveness
Been on that ride

I don’t miss the happiness of a simple home cooked meal
Have spent way too much time eating home food
I don’t miss family, I don’t miss friends
I don’t miss privacy, neither do I miss warmth
I don’t miss the rush of that coffee, or that drink or that café, or that cuisine
Damn have eaten them all

I don’t miss depth of thoughts, or intensity of emotion
I have experienced the depravities and games of mind,
I know all the dark corners all too well
I crave neither the intellectual literature or the simulating erotica
Bloody, have thought of them all

I have bought as much as much I had needed, have traveled as much as I required till now. I have played the role of the educated working daughter, successfully coupled with very dramatic existential swings. I have spent enough money and energy on food, clothes, cabs and relationships.

Dear society, can you please tell me now, what next?
Because you know what I miss here?
I miss the small cost at which the happiness used to come….