Trouvaille

  Photo: Pinterest                I just finished watching the movie - One Day, starring Anne Hathaway and Jim Sturgess, playing Emma and Dexter in a life-like film that starts in 1988 and goes on till 2011.  Emma and Dexter, meet after their graduation and decide to kick it off, although things don't go as planned, and the next thing you know they become more than what sex defines humans to be.  This is not a movie review, for that you can waste your time somewhere else, and that makes it the very reason that I am not obliged to hide anything from you. Emma one fine morning rides her bicycle to go meet the love of her life who is waiting in a cafe, and gets run over by a truck on the streets of London, a place where I currently live, she never comes back from death and hence - all I can say is Emma and Dexter meet every year on the 15th of July except one.  I don't know how Dexter made it without her his entire life, living off on those memories that I now feel are like stale

I have reached that point in life again where I am simply, tired.  There is a part inside me which pushes me to keep going but there is another part that just constantly yells: 'Quit!' I am not sure if you have faced something similar.  Exhaustion is a better adjective to describe my situation but it still doesn't seem enough. This officially is my rock bottom. The best part about being here is knowing the fact that it only goes up.  But being at this low, breathing life here, existing here is the most difficult thing to do. I have a list of blogs to write and there is nothing pushing me to do that. I do realize that people are my source to the whole idea of 'Keep Going', I haven't talked to a lot of my regulars since almost three weeks, and although it feels like forever, this small period of detachment has redefined what it feels like to be living without a source of happiness and encouragement.  I am really starting to question, 'Do my peers really have i

I am tired now, more than I was before, and this doesn't seem to get any better. Every new day. Seems a decade away, while I hate growing old. So I sit in oblivion and sleep untimely, I trust every new story a little too blindly. I crib for no reason, and change like a season unaware, uncalled, undue. I simply make an issue out of everything, I do realize that I am missing something. But I don't know what it is, so I wonder. I wonder, Will we still be in love once this is over? Will we still know what friendship feels like? Will we take risks like we did before? Will we be less cautious or more? Will we think twice before we eat? Will we be vegetarians or still choose meat? Will we care about what brands we wear? Will we simply try to just be there? Will we find peace in everything that we see? Will we be in chaos, a chaos that is me? Will we value the streets we walk on? Will we know what life was like in a lawn? Will we love the sky a lit

This will not make sense to you. [Me and Vivian Castelino in this world] I am recollecting a phase where I wrote almost every alternate day and I found joy in doing so. I was someone who also had a daily diary that was actually a ranting session with a book that did nothing more but listen to me. I stopped writing 2 years back for myself and changed ways. I wrote for people, surroundings and the things that happen in our society. It was so life-changing. I came across so many things and somehow it helped me get out of my small world and see for myself If I could be of any help to this world. I have no clue how my writings have helped the world in the past two years. I don't know if it has helped in the first place, but after a long time, I feel a sudden need to write for myself, for the things I missed on in the past two years and now that I think of it, I could have written so much. Every second day, I keep telling myself, 'We'll start today Rahul, It's

"There are some people in the world, who you can love and love and love, no matter what."  (No, I am not talking about you Anubhav) My mind hasn't stopped wondering about this sentence, since I scrolled through it on Instagram and the amount of truth that it actually holds. I have struggled through the 5 pm Chai, every evening, just to figure out if this is really possible?   Do we humans actually have the ability to keep giving to this world and not feel slightly, even slightly, to have something back in return? This abundance of love that we carry, this baggage of sorrow that always looks tiny in front of this Joy, this happiness. Love that in the most actual sense knows no limits, love that not only happen between two birds but the one that happens between a Sheep and a Lion. This entire concept of The Art of Giving and Loving the world, with the flaws and the drawbacks, its all so absurd! What would surprise you is the amount of confidence and happiness an

 IF YOU COULD SEE ME NOW.  After battling through yesterday I realized everyday is a new battle, hence, this morning I was prepared.  I took a glimpse of everything around, the trees were there, waters too, and so was the sky. but  not you. Wait, The air was very much around. I could still hear my sound. I didn't go. Spring didn't go. but you did. Even though you promised, you wouldn't. Now who do I call out to? The spring? Will it call me the way you use to? Spring father's more children, Maybe a million every year. How sorrowful must that be? Once they all leave. Is my pain even close to that of Spring's? Now my shoes are torn. Not because they don't fit me anymore. Rather, it's time I put myself into yours. My brains don't work, my way. It works your way. The hard way. My heart doesn't beat only for four, It beats a little more. Yet it hurts. And of course it will.