23:21 IST
The Sleeping Room, Peacock Lane
Shahpur Jat, New Delhi, India

Happie new year! May the year see a more disciplined, fitter me. A better, focused, well-read scribe.

Okay off to sleep now.

22:30IST
Mirror-Postcard Room, Peacock Lane
Shahpur Jat, New Delhi, India

The mind feels like it is a mess as usual. What did I do today?

Got up. Discovered that I was sleeping on a mattress kept on a floor. A very low bed. Remembered that I had made the change myself  last night, owing to the squeaky charpai. Upped. Tried an 'intense' exercsie routine - bear crawl, frog walk, push ups, burpees, squats, sit ups, leg ups, jumping jacks, doubling whatever-the-fuck. Barely lasted eight minutes. Better luck tomorrow. Tomorrow never knows, or never comes.

Officed. Trying to get a story done but people take so bloody long to respond. Did not get it done. Came home early. Faffed about for a couple of hours, then went for a run. The glorious 16 minutes and 30 seconds of running! I could have and should have done more./

Came back, musiced and washed dishes. Talked to mum dadi and dad. Pa has saved my name as 'Aniyo Ani' on his brand new phone. In Korean, this means 'no'. :/

Writing to you feels good, even if I write nothing profound. No thoughts. Just actions and small stupid commentary on the actions. Oh well.

Still, it is better than nothing. 

01:18 IST
Postcard-Mirror Room, Peacock Lane
Shahpur Jat, New Delhi, India

The internal world has been feeling stormy the past few days. Unpreparedness precedes every action. The mind takes flight to faraway lands with beautiful people where the self is a fulfilled, articulate, fit sapien.

When the mirror of illusions begins to reveal the warts and wrinkles and larded skin, the self knows reality has struck. It isn't pretty. I'm not pretty, and I have a problem with that. I don't write enough, and read enough. I don't know enough, don't do enough. And I have a problem with all of that.

So what do I do to ease the pain? Dance.

Read write and do too. 

23:38 IST
Postcard-Mirror Room, Peacock Lane
Shahpur Jat, New Delhi, India

What did I do today? I got up earlier than usual. Looked at the time, and went to snooze mode. Convinced myself that I'd be up in five minutes. 45 minutes later, I got up, turned on FM of my transistor, an attempt to fill the silence of the flat with some noise, since it was too cold for fans.

Got dressed, packed lunch, poured milk in a bowl for the black-and-white cat outside my building.

Turned on my music, Ludovico Einaudi. His music is transcendental. Pretty much like the sound of the word, it takes me somewhere else - in a different time, in a lovely place. I was walking on clouds, towards the metro station.

Reached office. Set up my work space. Started working on a story. Meeting time. 'Met' everyone. A new person who looks like a smiling walrus has joined in as a sales guy. He will sell more which will hopefully mean more salaries for us. That's what I understood at least. May the force be with the sales dude.

Lots of other things happened. I might be going to cover a sport event in December for which I need to 'get fit'.

Unfit. Super unfit am I.

Left work and stood around in the metro and reached a parlour where I got face cleaned off its hairiness. Then decided to eat bhel puri and walked home.

The walk to home was probably the best bit of the whole day. I love walking at night on the roads no matter how silent or busy they may be it is just a great thing to be walking out in the open beneath the sky amidst grime and dust dodging potholes.

This road that stretches from AIIMS to the IIT flyover, the bit next to Hauz Khas apartments, the pavement is a narrow one and there is an overgrowth of bushes from the residential side of the building coming out towards the pavement which leaves very little to almost no space for the pedestrian to walk on the pavement. The road is full of vehicular traffic right up the pavement. I barely squeezed in between, was trying to narrow my wide frame as much as possible, for fear of bumping into some random car or scooter. Such fun!

Home sister had made dinner. Wasn't hungry but ate. Lied down for a bit feeling icky and fat. Now writing to you.

Love you. 

14:49 IST
Postcard-Mirror Room, Shahpur Jat
New Delhi, India

25 September was my last post, and I had mentioned intimacy and how we tend to weave time into our thoughts and hence language all the time.

A month and a day later, my thoughts are not different. They aren't the same, because certain events took place in-between and were strong enough to leave lasting impression on my mind, but the state of my mind is no different. I still miss intimacy, and I still wonder at time.

The boi that I believed to be in love with, the one in who's company I felt free and happie had been lying to me about himself for the entire year that I had known him,

The entire year that I had known him.

Time, is relevant.

Time helps me track back, recreate the sequence of events that led to the slow unfolding of my own self towards this schmuck.

I feel utterly wasted. The whole year's worth of headspace is billowing its acrid smoke at me. It's burned and gone. Waste.

I'm alone.

What's going to change now? Deleted the person from my external life. And internally, I still think of him, but as a third person. There are moments of pure hatred and anger when I suddenly speak aloud words to him. And there are flashes of moving images that keep recurring in my mind.

When he said this, was he faking it? How could someone fake such a thing!? Why would anyone WANT to fake such a thing!? Was he calculative about all those little intimate gestures and phrases? Why? Couldn't he simply have told me that he was only interested in my work, and that he was dutifully involved with someone else? Why the lies!?

Thoughts like these churn and churn in my brain. They have curdled up and taste sour. I want to rid myself of this curd-gone-bad. Detoxify. I know the steps, the externalities, the action-points. But the will, the internal, the mind....it is a struggle.

But whether I move on or not, life will. 

22:46 IST
Room with two mirrors, Shahpur Jat
New Delhi, India

Hello, it has been a while. Time plays such a role in language. What if there wasn't any, time? No time for this none for that. See? It still holds meaning. Can't do without it.

And so, bringing conversations back within the realm of past, present and future, a lot happened between then and now, which hasn't been written about, meaning hasn't been pondered over.

Am I here to ponder? I don't know. The urge was too strong for me to ponder over that.

It was more of a need than desire. Maybe the two are intermingling slowly. How lovely that would be, if need and desire become one?

I needed to clear my head, sort my thoughts, hopefully get rid of a few. Because now, my dear I write for a living. Not for myself, but that will happen too one day. You will make it happen.

The thing is, I miss intimacy. Ever since the break-up, I have missed being close to someone. It isn't a fall-back or the security catch. Intimacy in my world is a very momentary, in-the-present word (time again). Intimacy doesn't flit in the past or fly to the future. It just is. Or isn't. No grey shades, no time-warp. Straightforward. Straight arrow.

So what do I want from life? Same old. Be fit feel fit write perfectly. And travel and trek and meet and eat and play.

Trek, I went on one of the longest treks I have ever been to. About 60 km, over 6 days, entirely on foot. We were tortoises, carried our homes on our backs. We climbed up and climbed down, our homes on our backs intact. The weather was not entirely kind. Clouds descended often, most of the day infact. And wept or pissed (however you may want to put it) their hearts out.

I survived it because I was with a lot of people who had things with them that helped me survive. I was not fit enough to carry my own luggage, so got help. My tent was wet most of the time, but that problem was also resolved because I had friends who offered me their shelter. I was not well equipped with food while trekking but met people on the way who readily offered their supplies.

But this doesn't happen on a trek. It happens on pilgrimages. A trek is a different story. You have to walk the miles and you have to walk them alone. For days and nights, and you go to remote places that have no shelter. So you gotta carry your own, and supplies. So what is the survival gear for a person going on a long trek?

Tent. Sleeping Bag + Pad. Layers of clothing. Headlamp + Flashlight. Packaged food. Water bottle + purifier. Swiss Knife. Sunglasses. Map of the area. First Aid Kit.

OK so what more do you need in the write-up. Maybe elaborate on these? Like why? Nono. Maybe the best kind of gear on it.

Buzzzzz Im going to sleep. 

21:40 IST
Parents' Room, Indepuri
New Delhi, India

Third day at internship. Bloody hate the Delhi Metro. It is never empty! Humans are packed like chickens inside a cage, and this cage is made up of solid metal, cold within. Unlike chickens, these humans don't bob up and down. They sway forward and backward and sideways at the whim of the constantly swerving metro. And I don't get a place to sit right up till HUDA City centre!! So unfair!

'Cleaned' a story today. 'Cleaning' a story means editing it shortening it and making it presentable for the public to read. It was about a chic who went rock climbing for the first time in Topanga Canyon, in Santa Monica mountains (kaise ajeeb se naam hain) in California. She was lost and directionless and this particular activity helped her find herself. Sometimes all you need to do is climb a rock to discover yourself. While she up there, clinging on to the tiny crevices she had a singular focus and purpose - to climb to the top. Sometimes thats all one needs. That simplicity of purpose is all one needs to move. I don't know where I want to reach yet. Every job I take I dream and analyse about various possibilities. I end up confused and blurry. I'm not going to think. I'm going to do. My expressions are not very good I see. Blah.