The power of you


I loved myself in difficult times when I hadn’t made any mistakes. I didn’t realise that I needed to love myself in times when I’m at fault too. I realised that loving myself involves accepting my flaws and faults and tending to my wounds. Every bleeding cut would leave a mark and every mark would remind me of the reason that caused it. One of the two pours in; love or guilt. It’s our choice what we let in. If we let guilt penetrate into our cuts, we would end up living in regret for a long time and the would would only continue to ache. However, if we let love in, we begin the healing process.

Don’t be too hard on yourself. Judging yourself is always easy. It’s hard to forgive yourself. Forgive. Have the heart that caresses you, picks you up when you fall, consoles you, holds you tight when you cry. Because at the end, all you’ve got is you. There’s no one else who can make you understand how to lead this life other than you. You have to make your own rules. You have to walk on your own path. You have to build your own road. Let go of the societal norms because there are times and things you cannot fit into the conventional definition accepted universally. Not everything needs to be tagged.

Never believe that your scars and flaws are ugly. They make you even more beautiful.

You’ve got to believe that you don’t need to be complete. You are complete. You are a whole, not a half. You are enough. You don’t need anyone else to complete you. You have all you need in you.

You are strong. You are all you need. You are the best possible version of yourself right now and you will only continue to evolve if you believe in yourself.

Love who you are, accept yourself, don’t judge yourself. You are beautiful, strong and enough to live this life.


Don’t judge

I’ve never been good at writing about myself. That is one thing I really struggle with. In everyday life, you get asked to describe yourself. I always wonder how it is possible to define years of transformation in a few sentences. 

I’ve come across people who have easily judged me and don’t even know the person I am. They’ve formed an opinion of me just because they know bits of pieces of the entire canvas I’ve painted for myself. 

How easy is it to judge someone? Pretty much the easiest thing to do. All you have to do is form some random ideas about the person and be articulate about it. 

My strategy in this situation today was to stay calm and remain silent. Don’t mistake it for tolerating the wrong. Silence, in this case, would mean not giving such issues any weight it demands and not reacting to it.

One of my teachers taught me that there is a difference between reacting and responding. I can never forget that lesson. I try to adopt it in my daily life.

Humans are guilty of judging their own species. It’s in our very nature. We take no effort in getting to know a person. What we see is what we believe. But what is real is beyond our ability to perceive. 

So, next time you meet someone, don’t form an opinion based on few things you know about them. It’s never good to judge people when you know nothing about them. It’s never good to judge people even when you know everything about them. It’s never good to judge. Period.

The edge

Standing at what I think is the edge, which may be the centre, I think. Because that’s what I’m best at doing. Sometimes, you’ve to choose. And you choose depending on the feelings and thoughts of the moment. There’s a difference between what is right and what is easy and giving up is always easy. It’s easier than going on, dragging yourself to take just another step. It’s always easier. But it’s never right. There are moments you crave to give up. You’re in the state where you’re exhausted. 
That’s okay. You’re allowed to have moments of exhaustion. You’re allowed to stop for a minute and look at where you want to go. You’re allowed to pause. You’re allowed to be yourself.

You will have your time and in the end, it all works out. Everything falls in place. Wait for that moment. 

Peace amidst the sound

The sound of the sea is somehow soothing. It’s synonymous with peace. It makes you forget everything and all you focus on is the sea and the sky and how the horizon is so beautiful. 

All the worries of the world, all the burden of regrets, all the sadness of the moment, everything dissipates for those few moments. 

There’s the burden of not being enough, of not doing enough, of expecting too much from oneself, of all the expectations breaking, of the leftover issues to deal with. There’s some amount of happiness too. Happiness of new realisations, of new beginnings, of tying to make peace with oneself. 

There’s so much to forget when the sound of the sea hits your ears. Being paradoxical has its own perks. Being paradoxical is not being confused. Having many sides exist in you to make you see that there are way too many sides to anything than just two. It’s about accommodating multiple perspectives. Being paradoxical is giving yourself many chances. 

Some things are left unfinished. Some things have endings you can’t make sense of. Some things are just enough. 

There’s also a new journey to begin. Trying to forgive yourself, trying to make peace with yourself, trying to feel enough, trying to feel you’re all that you need. There’s a lot to try.

The sea is enough for all that is. And maybe, just maybe, I will hear the sound saying more to me than just about the thoughts I carry.

The empty sky

There’s a lane I walked through too many times, almost everyday, with memories in every step taken. The street lights have not been too bright or bright enough to consume the silence that falls. Faces smiling and walking with ice cream in one hand and some groceries in the other. There’s a mart where the owner sits and smiles everytime you go in to buy something. There’s familiarity there. The city is always bustling with people and their energy. That was the city I lived in. That was the city I still love. 

I’ve lost people there. I’ve gained many more bonds. I have a love-hate relation with that city. I didn’t want to return to it when I lost him. It reminded me of everything. I returned. 

The city holds so many stories in its heart, keeping it secured from all the dangers it is famous for. That’s the city brimming with danger and that’s the city that feels home. Isn’t it strange?

I’m surprised at how many verses of poetry it has written and those written for it. Everyone has something to say. They have threads of love hanging in that city. 

What a storyteller it is! The story of that girl trying to reach home safely with fear in her heart, the story of that boy trying to fit in with his friends, the story of that student away from home and making a new home there, the story of every individual that has walked the streets of love and hatred all in the same place. 

I would stand on the terrace, under the empty sky, looking down at the empty road and wonder about life. Sometimes I’d stare at the sky and try to find a star or a particular one. There was just so much hidden in the layers above that the stars weren’t so visible. 

Maybe that’s what I’m looking for most of the times, the empty sky, trying to find that lost one and maybe discover something new. 

What we search for lies within us

A page from my life about my situation last year. Written in the second half of 2016, this was about most difficult times I endured then. A lot has changed since. My attitude towards life and everything has changed. Here’s a look at what I’d felt before I realised few things and learned few life lessons. 

In the most difficult of times, we lose ourselves only to find the real one was hiding inside us all along. 

The reality is I lost my confidence, was completely clueless, my mind gave in to those terrible feelings of emptiness, of hopelessness. I detest those feelings. I was waiting for that ‘someday’ when everything would be ‘fine’. I was living in the illusion that everything has an end, a full stop to it. I didn’t feel like eating. I started feeling strange in the stomach. At one point, I just couldn’t feel happy even if I wanted to. I lost interest in any activity, including writing. Let’s just say my pen couldn’t bleed words no matter how much I tried. And so, I gave up writing. But this sounds unbelievable, right? I know why. Because somehow, smile can lie, but eyes cannot.

I always believed in this: what we search for, lies within us. 

I didn’t lose one thing while everything else was slipping from my hand. I held onto it. That was this little hope within hopelessness, faith that it’ll change, that I want to change. And I took control of my mind. I tried not surrendering to it. I tried to muster up all courage that I had to try and try to change this reality. Believe me, it works. It works wonder. Yes, it takes time. Loads of time. To surrender to time is better than to give in to mind. And I did that.

And now, I’m getting my confidence back. I’m becoming the transformed version of myself. In the past few days, life has turned around for me. No, it’s not a happy ending. But I’m happy. I’ve never been this happy in the 20 years of my life. No, life’s not perfect. It’s not all fine. I still have to fight. So, what’s making me feel so happy?

All of a sudden, I’ve gained such realisations. I’ve learned far more in the past couple of months than I ever have. Yes, adversities can be beautiful. Every second of pain, of fighting, of losing hope and still standing in the battlefield, of trying to handle both emotions and physical pain, of living this reality, of trying to find flame bright enough to light up my hopes, of trying to feel like myself, is a moment I’d cherish forever. Yes, I’m blessed not only because I’m alive, but because I’ve finally found who I am. While my heart was never satisfied with the answer to this question earlier, it now feels it’s found the right answer.

I haven’t lost anything. And I’d say this a million times that I’m happy to have gone through all this. I’m going to fight this all the way till the end. Instead of waiting for that ‘someday’, I’m living it everyday. Instead of trying to find a full stop, I’ve accepted that there can be commas and semicolons and that they’re beautiful. Instead of desiring a ‘normal’ and ‘perfect’ life, I’d like to live the new one. Instead of all ‘sugar, spice and everything nice’, I’d like to live this life of surprises. I don’t want to go back to the old life because what I’ve gained cannot be traded for all the perfection that was my life. To have met all the people along this way who made me feel so motivated has been such a blessing. To believe in myself, to become my own light is beautiful. And amongst so many lessons that I’ve learned and am going to, I can confidently say that I love this uniqueness of having to fight this battle alone.

Those scars that I have will always echo stories. And most importantly, my faith has only increased and taught what it means to be fearless, to live in the now, to be happy, to be a fighter.

Freedom in this way

I was watching a movie where the lead chops her hair off after an event in her life. I’ve seen it many times in movies and series. 

Last year, I chopped my hair too. I had long hair and beautiful, according to others. It made me think why did I decided to cut them short. At that point, everything was happening too suddenly in my life and this was the only thing that seemed to be in my control. 

Chopping hair is about control, liberation. It’s about a lot of things to a lot of people. To me, it was a matter of control and how free it made me feel. 

It’s a belief that hair is one of the most beautiful features in a girl. I honestly think that the opinion differs from person to person. 

In fact, that’s not the only thing I wanted to talk about. I have wondered what makes women wear makeup. Now, the answer to that varies. It may be to look a certain way, to enhance confidence, or just because you like it. 

I wear lipstick and I really wear it because it looks good. For some women, it’s more than that. It’s the strength to be. It’s about picking up all your battles and moving on. It’s about leaving behind the problems of the day and taking on the world. 

I’ve met a woman of about 80 years old who had makeup on every time I saw her. I met her in the hospital. I assumed she had issues to deal with and that wearing makeup everyday just showed how strong she was to put all her pain behind and go on as if it’s just another day. 

It’s strange how we women seem like a mystery to the world, how doing hair and wearing makeup seems like a step to be more desirable, how it’s always about pleasing others rather than doing it for onself. 

Who would have thought that strands of hair and those colourful makeup products have stories of each individuals attached to them.