I wonder how long it's been since I wrote anything. I sort of stopped believing in my content or the shelf life of my beliefs. Over the last few years, the pace at which I have changed internally makes me question whether a part of me(original version so to say) still exists.
Change is beautiful, romanticised, but equally frustrating.
Sometimes you wish you were not this hard on yourself, or probably its a part of your character now, can't help it. There are traits I am fighting against, a strong one so to say, I wanted to stay at one place and make peace with my thoughts asking for 'change' all the time. Not every part of yours needs to be accepted, some are worth working upon. I refused to ask myself every moment, "Are you liking this?", I wanted to make peace with just being fine. I think I have faired very well.
I work in a relatively closed structure, so I have these mini wins and losses of my own, wins are rewarded with some sweetness in solitude on my way back home, losses are shown their way to being slept over.
Well, now I know how over the years my Papa has developed a good sense of humour, I have developed one for myself, a really good one I must say. If I speak I make sure I laugh out in equal proportions.
There has been a strange attachment in these few years, one with Mum, I have understood her insecurities, her intentions, her diameter of learnings, and her strong will of not giving up on me. She hasn't, she doesn't and I am sure she won't ever.
I hope someday I am that graceful at making peace with my child's overwhelming choices. It's been tough on her, I am sure.(except with my choice of better half, she appreciates this one day and night)
She has seen me not agreeing to do potty every morning, to not agreeing to make any food for myself even at the cost of starving. She has seen it all, held me through my stubborn years, Boy, she must be wondering at times, is she really my daughter, when did she become this strongly opinionated.
And yet she has stayed, together, all this long.
Last night my dear Love happened to ask me rather strange questions back to back, "What would be the only thing I would carry if I had to move to another country?"
The first thing that hit me was a tiny book of Hanuman Chalisa I have, one which was given by Mum when my parents introduced all sorts of worship and belief systems to me, they literally laid out everything and nothing, from choosing to being a worshipper to an atheist as well. I chose this tiny book and stuck to visiting some places which have a peaceful vibe to them while I still question and talk like an Atheist.
And when I was asked, "Whom would you pick up to stay with you on a remote planet?", I chose her.
Change is beautiful, romanticised, but equally frustrating.
Sometimes you wish you were not this hard on yourself, or probably its a part of your character now, can't help it. There are traits I am fighting against, a strong one so to say, I wanted to stay at one place and make peace with my thoughts asking for 'change' all the time. Not every part of yours needs to be accepted, some are worth working upon. I refused to ask myself every moment, "Are you liking this?", I wanted to make peace with just being fine. I think I have faired very well.
I work in a relatively closed structure, so I have these mini wins and losses of my own, wins are rewarded with some sweetness in solitude on my way back home, losses are shown their way to being slept over.
Well, now I know how over the years my Papa has developed a good sense of humour, I have developed one for myself, a really good one I must say. If I speak I make sure I laugh out in equal proportions.
There has been a strange attachment in these few years, one with Mum, I have understood her insecurities, her intentions, her diameter of learnings, and her strong will of not giving up on me. She hasn't, she doesn't and I am sure she won't ever.
I hope someday I am that graceful at making peace with my child's overwhelming choices. It's been tough on her, I am sure.(except with my choice of better half, she appreciates this one day and night)
She has seen me not agreeing to do potty every morning, to not agreeing to make any food for myself even at the cost of starving. She has seen it all, held me through my stubborn years, Boy, she must be wondering at times, is she really my daughter, when did she become this strongly opinionated.
And yet she has stayed, together, all this long.
Last night my dear Love happened to ask me rather strange questions back to back, "What would be the only thing I would carry if I had to move to another country?"
The first thing that hit me was a tiny book of Hanuman Chalisa I have, one which was given by Mum when my parents introduced all sorts of worship and belief systems to me, they literally laid out everything and nothing, from choosing to being a worshipper to an atheist as well. I chose this tiny book and stuck to visiting some places which have a peaceful vibe to them while I still question and talk like an Atheist.
And when I was asked, "Whom would you pick up to stay with you on a remote planet?", I chose her.
