The Deranged Thoughts Of A Girl

The cafe was bustling with customers on a Sunday. I ordered a milkshake and gazed at how beautifully the day gave way for the night to arrive. When the milkshake was delivered to my table after a whole twenty minutes, I took a nice long sip and was devouring the happiness when I could sense the shift of change in the atmosphere. A customer had entered and suddenly the air was sucked out of its components and replaced with confusion and unwarranted hate. A transwoman. She was different, said every nudge, every whisper, and every stare. She was different, as we all are and as we all take pride in. But she was really different, they reminded her. I wondered whether people really embraced the ideology that we are all different from each other.  She sat across from me. Suddenly I felt a huge rush of emotions and thoughts playing inside me. Was I scared of how people would react? Was I worried about how she'd feel ? Was I anxious about what I wouldn't be able to do? I glanced at her

We all think about tragedies. It doesn't necessarily have to happen to us, it could be anyone's. Maybe it is an underlying feeling in ourselves borne out of sympathy. No, is it empathy? The way we dwell in the sorrow of others like we have none of our own makes me want to believe in the world. Even if it would be a sad one.  When I see someone in pain, I hope that this isn't the first time tragedy has struck them. I hope it is the fourth or fifth or second time because by then you'll slowly learn how to cope with it. And the fact that we have to is saddening by itself but aren't we all done trying asking for things to be better? Aren't we all tired of kneeling and praying in front of everyone and everything that makes us want to believe in hope again? Aren't we all tired of making closed rooms, taps running and walls our solace? Aren't you?  But the first time. The first time strikes as loud as the clock strikes twelve at night, a feeling of unknown impe

People never know how to fill the pages of their diary, or how to love someone without hurting them eventually, or how to tell someone that they have found solace in them. But people try. They try to copy the pages of someone's diary, try to amend mistakes, try to look a person in the eye and voice words that are so real that they become the embodiment of happiness. And people fail. They fail to find themselves in what they wrote, they hurt them over and over again, they practise saying things that never touch the intensity of what they want to convey. But people try again.  I have written in so many diaries. But I have completed none. I have tried writing everyday but then realised my life was uneventful. I then tried writing on days when something eventful happened or I was being dramatic but I believed that every moment is worth living for. And then it became a cycle. But eventually along the way, I found myself in those pages. I still remember the day I read through my old diar

Pic credits: Tammy York Dear music How do I start this letter? Should I yell at you first or tell you about how grateful I am for your existence or should I just ask you the question I have always wanted to ask "How do you do it?".  I can't say that I have always been an ardent admirer of you. To be honest, I was more into fairy tales, stories and books when I was young. Not because I loved the stories or fell into the depth of all the words and meanings but because I felt like I was a part of a world that someone else made and they wanted someone to listen to it and I am a good listener. You see, I have always wanted to belong somewhere and the words made me a perfect cradle. But don't get jealous, I am here to talk about you.  I used to listen to you at night just so I can sleep. It's not poetic in any way, don't be mistaken. I had a crush then and when you arrived I could easily make impossible scenarios inside my head and go to sleep when my brain gets tir

 I have always hated endings. Be it a sad movie, a car ride, a lunch date, a conversation, the mere inevitability that all things come to an end. Be it good or bad. The bolt of relief for the latter immediately being replaced by ingratitude.  But I have always loved beginnings and the 'in-betweens'.  The last time I went for a car ride, I couldn't stop thinking how much the music had affected my surroundings. A happy song lifted the spirits of everyone inside and outside, in the middle it was like the whole world had become a part of a big musical if they liked it or not, but the end was always a disaster. The people still rushing by without even giving a thought to the end beat, the trees swaying way too energetically for an ending, the snoring of your sibling sitting right next to you, you just know this was not the ending you wanted. It's the same with any trip. Even though I fuss a lot about the whole journey, I secretly love sitting in the same position until I fee

Chapter - 3  A small note. I can't seem to remember the last time I felt like I wanted to disappear, which is a good sign. Disappear as in not an attempt for people to understand my worth, but just to erase the whole existence. When I think of it now, I feel like I was cruel to myself.  To Lily, I am sorry to have let you believe that you were in this alone for as long as I could remember. I know things would have been much better for you if only I'd answered those cries for help. I am glad that you stood up for yourself when they shamed you, even though you had to face consequences for the way you talked. I wished to console you but you were thinking about it too, like I was - was it true what they said? Was it really true? I cried a little when I saw you look in the mirror, never shredding a tear because you were used to it.  I am sorry that I let you believe that you couldn't love yourself, let alone others . The thoughts we had that you would always be a passer-by in ev

Chapter 2: Hate. Hate is such a strong word. I could never bring myself to look someone in the face and say 'I hate you' and mean it. But I have met people who could and it frightens me. The mere possibility of someone being filled with dread and anger at the thought of someone else. I always ask why, why do you hate them but the answers always go over my head. It scares me even more because I know it might be possible for me, for me to hate a person. Here's a story.  My grandma and I have these sessions in the afternoon where we talk until one of us falls asleep. We tell stories, talk about the day, talk about the future and sometimes about the past. One such afternoon, she decided to tell me a story. I still believe to this day that it was the comforting sunlight that gave enough warmth as a mother's breast, or the coolness of the pillow that would rock me to sleep, or the strange assurance of a listener that would be present till the end of the story, was what gave h

I feel like a 13year old when I see a park, a 16-year old when I am on a swing and feel my whole body lift off the ground, 19 years old when my heart fills with joy at the resonating sounds of laughs about how stupid I look. I was 13 years old when I saw you in a different light for the first time, thought it wasn't love because I had no insects in my stomach,but you felt like my person and somehow that wasn't enough, 16 year old when I almost gave my number to the most sweetest guy I know, felt like a 19 year old when I realised that I didn't want to go through any of it again. I feel like a 13 year old whenever I cry, 16 when I tell myself I shouldn't cry in front of others because I am old, 19 when I realise I can cry even more and loudly this time around. I was 13 years old when I loved to talk with people, all swarmed around me, 16 when I finally started opening up to people, 19 years old when I realise I crave for a talk over dinner and beach visits with my f

Maybe I've been writing a lot about love these days. Maybe I behave in a way that 'people in love' does. Maybe love is very underrated. I am very concerned about this fact. so, here is my epitome on it. Or maybe I am just ranting about why I see love from a whole different angle and it might sound weird to you guys but its a pretty elevated feeling. "I don't wanna marry", these four words can cause chaos in the most peaceful situations. Trust me, if you feel like your parents or just people doesn't give much attention to you, I promise you that these four magic words stringed together can give you the ultimate fame. You become the source of all silly debates,attention forms a heavy cloud over your head promising to shower you with it all day. I mean its nothing but its everything. I hope you are getting the gist of it. Because I relate to everything with my experiences, I might be able to tell you all about my life with this tiny topic (so shallow,huh?