Just a bit of hope

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When I started this blog, a little over a year ago, I was in a difficult space personally, and felt like I needed an outlet. I like to think that I’ve since grown to embrace a lot more about myself and understood some of the tricks to ‘keep on and keeping on.’  I wanted to write this post as I wanted to share some of the things that I’ve learnt, but also, I am writing this for myself – to be able to come back to it whenever I feel lost again. So, here goes:

Surround yourself with positive, supportive and understanding people.

Recently, a friend gave me one of the best pieces of advice: “Think of what you would want to do and work towards it; don’t think too much about what you’re good at and what you could do.” I carry this with me every day as I hustle and move forward. And as I go, I am constantly reminded that my I CAN is more important than my IQ.

Limit your distractions, and do at least one thing every day that brings you closer to your goal. I’ve realised that I am usually able sleep better at night when I’ve been productive during the day.

Exercise. Sometimes your mind needs it more than your body does.

Don’t forget to take breaks, and take a moment to pat yourself on the back for how far you’ve come.

Know that there will always be good days and bad days, but you can find your way through it all.  Believe that going on is always the best bet.

 

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Safe to fit in

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We were busy sitting straight

Colouring inside lines

Running relays

Getting caught up in grades

Letting sketchbooks fade

And losing ourselves thus

Never standing out

Never making a fuss.

 

Oh, why didn’t we want our quirks to be seen?

We never really liked filling trees with green!

Plans

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I have a map.

It’s vibrant,

Dotted and streaked

With bold, adventurous plans.

I have a boat.

It glides and nods,

Cuts through waves,

But takes me on a new path,

An unknown trail.

I have a compass.

It flits and flirts with the wind,

Wayward and difficult,

Points to directions I haven’t framed.

And there is no lighthouse to lead the way.

I have an anchor.

It’s been on the mast since I set sail.

I hop onto it to brave the weather, uncertain.

My map is a criss-cross of contrasting inks,

I’m questioning,

Re-thinking,

Scared.

But in for the ride,

However it fares.

I am navigating through life.

Photo by Oliver Cole via unsplash.com

This Chatty Bench

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Can you hear the lullaby

Or my mother’s touch feel.

Can you see the Alphabet

That I learned here to read.

Can you picture that first kiss,

Sense how it filled me with glee.

Can you listen the sweet warble

Of his first letter to me.

Can you tell the heartbreak

Didn’t fight shy of cutting deep.

Can you grasp the moments

Of which this bench holds memories.

Image courtesy of pixabay.com

my listicle

 

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Long walks, longer drives

Cool grass, clear skies

Loose sweaters, new shoes

Smiling faces, fruit juice

Petrichor, the colour yellow

Waning moon, a starry wallow

Paper planes, fairy lights

Hearty grins, chocolate bites

New leaps, coffee treats

Snug blankets, snowy sheets

Lazy dreams, a heart fickle

My safe and sound is a listicle.

 

:photo by Aaron Buden, courtesy of unsplash.com

Trapdoor

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On the ceiling, dragons breathing fire

Squelch across smoky skies and clouds gray

Erupting a sprightly bout of shadows

A trapdoor opens and takes her away.

 

On the floor, a big hole

Gyrates demons that is to say

Unearthing a darkness inside

A trapdoor opens and takes her away.

 

Up on the wall,  flashbacks

Swirl and nerves fray

Schlepping memories out of blank space

Out of nowhere – a trapdoor opens and takes her away.

 

Image: flickr.com

 

 

The God of Small Things – A story that stayed

I usually end my day with either reading or writing something. Today, I thought of welding the two worlds together, by writing about a book I read by my night lamp: The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy.

 Roy delves into sexual abuse, gender bias, and untouchability in a subtle and poignant manner, stimulating deep thoughts on these issues. The story is set in 1969, in the south Indian state of Kerala. She narrates the story as if it were unlayering the thoughts of the two twins, Rahel and Estha, with words which evince innocence – Orangedrink Lemondrink Uncle, light blue carsounds, bumpy red road, . The sentences are as rich as they are moving. Twins separated following an unfortunate incident, a loved one dying because of a wretched system, and a mother spending her last moments alone after a series of unfair events – everything transpires as if one were half expecting it, but shocks and saddens in equal measure as the story unfolds. “Who should be loved, and how. And how much” is a question which forms the nub of story. The question is posed when the twins’ mother leaks her “Unsafe Edge” that leads her “to love by night the man her children loved by day.” It is posed again when the society looks down upon it. And yet again, when Estha’s quietness and Rahel’s emptiness finally merges. Roy depicts the malaise of the characters’ lives through words which depart from the literal sense, thus evoking deep emotions in the reader’s heart. It’s a beautifully written tale about love laws, and how they destroyed lives. How the small things led to a sad turn of events and shook the big things. It is a story I read months ago but one that has stayed with me and will stick around for a long time.

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