Love is Done

What happens once you have loved.

After you have been loved in that college, early-teen romance—

only to grow up and realize

value systems and life aspirations never matched.

When you have tried the more professionally aligned love,

but it just wasn’t meant to be,

and social constructs are real.

When the heart has loved -

when it has received care, respect, attention.

Being called the best thing ever,

over and over again.

When you have seen every shade—

red, blue, and grey.

When you have gone through

the painful, organic stages of knowing someone—

friendship, crushing, romance,

trying to build something—

only to find it can’t work.

Years, months, days—

so many words, tears, emotions, thoughts,

fear, hope, fights, happiness, memories.

All done.

All lived through.

All cherished.

Marked in my body memory.

When the dust has settled.

Love has been done.

And you sit here—

still by yourself.

What else can one do.

And what happens next.

After the sermons—

on self-awareness, inner child healing,

attachment theories, boundaries, intentions,

self-love and purpose,

romantic love and divine love and practical love,

deception, limitations, lies, truths.

After all of that.

When your heart and mind and body

have been through it all—

but still, a part of it hopes.

Looks out in the world—

for what?

What could possibly happen now.

What happens after you have loved.

I am watching.

The Crown Too Heavy

Once upon a time, a little girl was handed a crown.

It was dazzling, golden, studded with ambition — a crown meant for Everest.

Her father placed it on her head with love.

He saw her strength before she even knew her own name.

He wanted to protect her, to lift her high, to make her untouchable in a world that can be cruel.

But the crown was heavy.

Her neck was still soft, her shoulders small, her spirit tender.

She tried to walk, but it cut into her skin.

She thought: “Why would he give me something that hurts me so much?”

She stumbled. She resented him. She longed for a simpler, lighter life.

Years passed. The girl was tested — by mountains of exams, valleys of heartbreak, storms of pressure.

She burned, she broke, she healed. She learned to breathe, to steady her steps, to listen to her own rhythm.

And one day, she lifted the crown again.

This time, her neck was strong. Her shoulders broad. Her heart wise.

She realised: “The crown was never the problem. The timing was.”

Now, she places it on herself — not because he gave it,

but because she knows it belongs to her.

It no longer feels like a punishment. It feels like her own name.

She was always meant for Everest.

The crown fits her perfectly now.

Let me create

 Something i wrote in 2015..cant believe myself at times..

Let me create

There are days I wake up

When I want to do something with my bare hands

Build something, create something from scratch

Toil in it, sweat and pant

Do something so consuming that it takes all the sense of time and reality from me

Something to consume me physically, emotionally, spiritually, intellectually

Am looking for experience – no job, no career, no amount of partying or sexual activity can replace it

Something for which I would take a bullet

Something heroic

Something for which I would leave my loved ones behind

Something which would make me cheat, lie, deceive, scheme

Something for which I could consider killing

A task with the passion of a fanatic

The nurturing of a mother

The protection of a father

Something I can put my whole soul into

Sit back and have a look on what I have created

Yes I want to create

Something with my bare hands

Something which leaves scars

Something which gives me real tears of pain

Something which shows me what is true fear, for I haven’t felt afraid in a long time

Something which fills me with a naïve hope, so used to the ways of the world I haven’t felt naïve in a long time

Something humane, something primal

Away from the sophistication and peace of my modern and intellectual lifestyle

Am not looking for comfort and happiness, I have had enough of it

Am looking for rage, fear, tears, pain, sweat, anger, hatred, disgust, disappointment

Am looking for exhilaration, joy, love, epiphany, pride, glory, honour

Am a human, let me be primal once and create something.

Yours Sincerely,

A knowledge worker

The light of fear

 

“Wounds is where the light enters us” – Rumi

 Spent 2+ years fixing me – mindset, emotional health, physical health -> building awareness, noticing emotions, thoughts -> letting them pass through – identifying the ego/fear voices -> noticing what it says – how it shows up – fear – hurting my body – shoulder pain -> chest tightness, shaping even how I interact with the world –

Hiding, shrinking, shame…oh am not enough
Striving extra hence -> to be enough.

And then one day, I was practicing, impressed on by the ‘Litany of Fear’, I was practicing, this fear – to pass through me – fear of abandonment this time – letting it hurt – scare me – and then hopefully pass through. And how it hurt. It does what it does. Painting the darkest most bleak future -> asking me to act out of urgency – gripping me - till I let out a prayer.

 

God, please free me from these fears, from these wounds, these childhood wounds or maybe those of even before in time…

…and then it hit me. These childhood wounds are my gifts. They shape me, for who I am, who I ought to be, my purpose/destiny in the world. My biggest source of power and my greatness and my light.

“Wound is where the Light enters us”

Like Harry Potter. His scar – it hurt, made him feel different, people mocking him, stopping him from living a “normal” life, he hid it -> but it was Maqtub. It marked his destiny. Held the answers, the path and the power -> to defeat Voldemort.

Yes the scar hurt, but then, that’s what made him -> Harry Potter.

Love thy wounds.

Be thankful from them.

 

P.S. Also majorly inspired by post Dune watching session!

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.