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.

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….

Having it all

Its called having it all.

Mehnaz comes in the morning, she makes brown rice and protein packed meals for the day

Sonia follows her, and ensures the room, kitchen, balcony, stair are clean, in that order

Once in a while she asks me to recharge her phone using paytm

She knows when to ask me to let her browse Amazon for the black and golden suit design

And the other times, she just chats with me in our native rajasthani language.

Its called having it all.

I spend 3 evenings a week with Imran

He trains me to do deadlifts, box jumps and whatever he seems fit to put me through for an hour

He counts repetitions on my behalf, helps me stretch, is my conscience when am not on track.

And the other times, he just tells me stories of how he mended his impaired knee himself

Its called having it all.

I am tired and thirsty. I tap at my phone browsing through innumerable options in Phase 4 and around.

Prateek delivered this cold pressed juice bottle to me within 30 minutes.

It has Egyptian Oranges, Green Apple, Ginger, Lemon and Chia seeds, and organic beetroot.

The juice is in a glass bottle, not plastic. I don’t know from where they procured it all. But,

Its called having it all.

The other day, Rinkachon came to my house. She is from Manipur, she is excellent in acupressure.

She learnt it from mother, who learnt from her mother in her village.

Without any formal training, Rinkachon is brilliant. She is a 5 star Thai therapist with urban clap.

She brought at her own equipment, asked me how I was. The app even gave a Rs 200 cashback.

Rinkachon lives in sikandarpur. She was too nice and talented.

Its called having it all.

I sit on a Saturday, tapping at my phone.

On one app am buying the grocery list on big basket, which my mother texted me on watsap.

I wonder if Yellow Lizol is better than Purple, while I select the organic urad daal

Meanwhile another app is open, it shows me the options for treks in Nepal.

I wonder if gifting an automatic washing machine on Diwali could make up for me being away from home, while I sip on the organic cold pressed juice and swipe my Instagram where people have liked my healthy breakfast bowl, and Buddha Bowl pics

Its called having it all.

Latika is my personal shopper with fable street. She helps me pick my colors and fabrics and stays in touch on whatsap to maintain my office wardrobe.

She is absolutely brilliant. I have never had to shop again in a crowded mall, since I have met her.

This is how having it all looks.

I am not sure what exactly we have done as a generation, to deserve so much privilege and comfort in our lives. Maybe we are just at the right place and right time in the history. As I consciously keep myself away from consuming goods, I just can’t help consuming all these services, so readily available. I am not sure, for a  working class Indian, if there is a better place to be right now, than India.

I also can’t help wonder, what next. This is where the service class peaks. How do we strike the balance in producing more than we are consuming.

I also can’t help wonder about Sonia, Mehnaz, Rinkachon and Prateek….what is this whole servant class which has emerged so dramatically to provide me all these services…what have I doen to deserve this.

We are without any doubt, the most served generation in the history. The generation who does, have it all.

Love me like you do

When I was a young girl, my parents would take me shopping.

The doting parents they are, they would take me to the best shops they could afford or were aware of. Mom would spend hours with me scanning the markets in Karol Bagh to buy clothes which would make me happy. Dad would always be ready to stretch his budget to get the best deal for me. In days where there were no metros/malls, and traveling distances wasn’t really a thing, they would spend weekends figuring out how to shop in Sarojini Nagar, Janpath, even Kamla Market and all the popular places they had heard young Delhi girls shop for the best deal.

And nothing.

After all the efforts they would put for my shopping, I would often return empty handed, tired, irritated, stressed and with nothing.

“Isko kuch pasand hi nhi aata”

“Pata nhi kya chahiye ise”

“Ladki ne paresan rakha hai, pata nhi kesi pasand hai”

Maybe something was wrong with me, maybe I was a painful child, I would wonder. Everyone else seems to be happy with their wardrobe and looking fine, why can’t I decide on something.

“Uncle ye teeshirt plain mein nhi milegi? Ye kapda white cotton mein nhi aata?”

“Ye kurta thoda simple nhi milega”

“Theek hai, 300 nhi to 500 tak mein dikha dijiye”

And with all the above criteria, my search rarely returned anything. You see, even at the age of 14, without much exposure to media/foreign brands I had an inherent inclination towards simple plain comfortable clothes – the ones which you see stocked in brands like Benetton or Forever 21 these days. I was looking for something which didn’t exist in my world, I didn’t know what was it called. You see I had the taste, but there was no dish!

As a result I spent most of my teenage, literally abstaining from focussing on my looks or the way girls dress up. I kept a minimal wardrobe and focussed on my studies. I mean what was the point. What I wanted was just not out there.

Few years forward, when 1990s had passed and Baby Boomers had saved enough and disposable incomes in general starting rising, I started shopping from stores like Koutons during their sale season. There were the glory of soft comfortable jeans with sober colors and sober ranges. There I could find my comfortable full sleeve plain white tees. Oh what a heaven! Well I completed my education, started earning well, got opportunities to develop my taste, visit places and the journey has been only upwards from there.

But this blog is neither a nostalgic outpour about my teenage nor an ode to my choice of clothes. It is about what to do when you feel so ready for something, when you can it almost see it in your mind but it just won’t manifest for you. When you have a very clear idea of what you are looking for, but nothing seems to fit the description. When looking hard and getting stressed just doesn’t help!

Do you abstain and focus on other areas (like I did) and let universe decide when is the right time for you to get your wish? Or do you adjust and lower your standards and just do what other around you are doing? Can do the latter, but just that, we are never as good as aping the others. We can ape the actions, but it is only our vision which can only truly guide us.

I don’t know what your answer would be, but I till this day suffer from the same symptoms as clothes shopping when I look for a choice of career or a life partner or a place to live.

Perfectionism can be managed, but not really cured.

P.S. To this day, amongst my peer group, am known as one of the most well-dressed person. I take pride in my choices, know what I want, and thankfully am able to manifest what I have in mind.

P.P.S I have grown bored of shopping and expensive brands now, and am moving towards minimalistic wardrobe again, a true full circle of life this time.