I’ve said this once, and I’ll say it again. I am not equipped to deal with the restlessness that comes with long periods of blog abandonment. A voice starts screaming in my head, “WRITE, ASTHA! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU, WOMAN?”
So, well done, Astha. You finally decided to write when you’re practically about to burst because you have so much to share, and now it’s going to spill out here in erratic, haphazard patterns. Listen to this song, while you read this post. I’ve been kinda obsessing over it.
First things first, I am a twenty-five-year old woman now. I think this is the first time I’ve accepted moving closer to my inevitable end with so much grace and dignity. I am working. I am living alone. I have a fairly comfortable life surrounded by people I love, but I still have a lot to complain about. I prefer hot chocolate over vodka shots, fluffy fur slippers over heels, and pajamas over dresses. I think too much. I feel too much. I have the occasional lower back pain, and I spend late night hours reading and agreeing with berlin-artparasites‘s posts about the angst of youth, love and existence. I’m mostly making plans with friends, and then looking for reasons to back out of them. I question morality, look for depth and meaning in most things in life, worry about the future and mull over mortality and consciousness. I feel exhausted throughout the week, and often pretend that I have it all together, when in my head, I am screaming like a banshee. I try to read more, but usually end up sleeping or getting distracted by my beeping phone. So yeah, twenty-five seems about right.
I’ve had the best birthday, so far, this year. Actually, it wouldn’t be fair to compare, since I’ve had very different birthdays, and I’ve been a different person on all of them. But it’s safe to say that this is definitely going to be one of the most memorable one. I went to Gokarna and Goa with my best friend. We sat at the deserted Kudle beach in the pitch darkness, singing our favourite songs. We climbed an old fort, got lost following a forest trail, got bitten by a bug, chanced upon an old broken wall and witnessed some of the most amazing views of the ocean. We canoed deep into the sea, felt the rush of adrenaline as the shore became a single line, and all we could see were the islands around us. We screamed as a wave playfully toppled our canoe over, and we fell on our knees on the sand, laughing and falling over each other like little kids. We rode our rented bikes on smooth, straight roads surrounded by intensely green forests in the chilly Goan air. We made friends with people from another country, had satisfying food and drinks in the cutest cafes, ordered pizza with anchovies without knowing what anchovies are, laughed about wearing somebody else’s slippers by mistake in a restaurant, and ended the entire trip with the most glorious sunset I’ve ever seen. It was better than all the sunsets I’ve seen at SIMC combined. They sky turned a blazing orange, followed by random patterns of purple, red and pink. I was elated and emotional. It was nature’s very own customized birthday gift to me 🙂 Couldn’t have possibly asked for more.
What overwhelmed me even more is the number of gifts I received this year. I was not expecting it, at all. Especially since I’d removed my birthday from Facebook. I was in no mood to sit and thank one hundred and fifty odd people who decided to spend two seconds of their life wishing me a happy birthday. Despite that, I received a Polaroid camera, silver earrings, a PG Wodehouse box set, an awesome DIY-kit, an anti-stress art therapy colouring book with colour pencils, butterflies to stick in my room, a beautiful diary, a hand-made wall-hanging, chocolates and TWO hand-written letters. It just makes me feel… alive, and loved, and warm and fuzzy inside. I love the concept of birthdays. It’s a day that celebrates the fact that you exist! 🙂
I’ve been having eerie dreams, that I plan to convert into short stories very soon. Please hang on, I’ll be back, okay? Inspiration seems to take its own sweet time to hit me.
N is sick. I miss her. It just feels weird to not have her around. Boost breaks have lost all their meaning. I want her to get better.
I’ve been checking out some amazing new music artists. Two of them, in particular. No, Three! Gosh, life is too short to listen to and appreciate all the under-appreciated music in the world! Will talk about that in the next post. And oh, I discovered what a fantastically twisted writer Edgar Allan Poe was. His stories are so intriguing, I can’t stop reading!
P.S. Do I look twenty-five? 🙂
Butterflies and Hurricanes 
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