Butterflies and Hurricanes

This song is breaking my heart into smithereens. I don’t even know what I’m feeling exactly. Just this strong nostalgia for something, that existed in the past, or that hasn’t even occurred yet.  I guess I miss the person I used to be, or the person I long to become, one day. I’m not sure.

Also, I really love Banana Pancakes by Jack Johnson.

“Maybe we can sleep in. I’ll make you banana pancakes, pretend like it’s the weekend now.”

Sometimes that’s all you need.

Are you thinking, oh my god, this is one of her rants again? Hush. It’s quite okay, really. I’ve decided that on days like these, when I’m feeling melancholic, and lonely, I’ll just put all of that energy to good use, and create something out of it. Because feeling like this is beyond my control, and I’ve made my peace with that. It’s just part of who I am. The whimsical side of me, the one who will never stop dreaming, the one who will always look for perfection in her chaotic environment. I wrote some poetry in my notebook. I may share it here, I may not. Maybe some things are better off not being shared.

I know that being sad is not the answer, but I also know it is not the worst thing in the world. It is just an emotion, and one that is as important as joy. (As we have so beautifully learnt from Inside Out). When you feel low, embrace it. It’s okay, it’s alright. You don’t feel like going out to meet your friends? That’s fine. You don’t need to feel guilty about it. It’s okay to be under your covers. It’s okay to listen to soft, acoustic music and keep your phone on airplane mode all day. It’s okay to not watch the movie you were planning to watch, or read the book you intended to read over the weekend. Don’t beat yourself up about it. Honestly, I feel like you should just do what comes naturally to you. (Unless, there is something important you’ve been putting off for quite some time. Try doing it, it feels good.)

It’s okay if the dark cloud of grumpiness follows you around for a while, because the sun will shine again, and it will be worth it.

Here is an excerpt from the poem I wrote (to my younger self):

Do you remember the sights, the sounds and the smells?

Of the tiny kachnar buds that would sprout on the branches of the tree right outside,

The smell of fresh malpuas and gulaal every Holi, 

Do you remember the guava tree? 

Each guava as raw as the bruises on your knees

But as sweet as the joy of a forbidden achievement.

Do you remember the cashew nut shell collection?

Do you ever remember every brush stroke? Every word written? Every song recorded?

And the hordes of greeting cards on every festive occasion?

The stolen batteries for your Walkman, and the hours spent writing the lyrics down?

Do you remember the paper boats and the makeshift kites?

The puddle jumps on your terrace when it rained, and the bicycle races in your lane?

Mom’s mango shake, didi’s private room, full of private treasures.

Mangu’s disloyal dedication, dad’s beard-rashes as punishment.

Remember the drawing book that ran out of pages too soon and the crayons that gave up way before their time?

Do you remember the fictional sets, the characters, the story-lines, the constant need to create?

Remember the hunger? For more books. For more toys. For more answers.

The hunger to create. To narrate.  To make others laugh.

Do you remember the stack of books under the mattress and the hidden torch you brought to life every night?

Do you remember baba’s stories, dadi’s aam-papad eyelids, and Cherry’s yelps?

Remember the yellow scooter and the countless songs it helped you invent?

The scribbles behind every unsolved multiplication sum and the added dialogues on every figure in the history book?

Do you remember the drama, the pain of being so young, the angst of being so average in the classroom?

Do you remember the dreams, the laughter, the stories inside of you?

Do you remember the whimsy? The prayers? The jokes?

Do you recall the light? The life? The “you” inside of you?

I would like to talk to you today. Get to know you a little more. Learn from you. 

I want to learn what I should do to always keep you alive inside,

I want to know how you were the way you were,

With you, I can hope for a future as bright as the glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling

You give me hope. 

And I will always hold on to it. 

Much like the way I held on to the very last ray of every dying sunset I ever saw.

I’m glad you are here today, and I really, really hope

You will stay.