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.

23:46 IST
Big Dining Hall, Inderpuri
New Delhi, India

First day of internship at a new place. The Outdoor Journal - the world is your playground. An adventure sports magazine. Self interning with the editorial. No background in adventure sports. No idea as to what self is to do there. The journey to the office was horrendous. Father was kind enough to drop me off to the metro. Went all the way to HUDA City centre. Huda Buddha. Took me a complete hour. Then further 15 minutes of autoride till the office building. Nuts. Morning 10am no one was around, for a good hour. Loved it. Come 11am and people start streaming in slowly, and by 1pm the office is full and cramped and noisy and horrible. No such thing as personal space. Was given an interesting story to work on - a couple of youngsters tried to scale the tough terrain of Mt. Makalu in the Mahalangur Himalayas, but couldn't make it. The other bits of the day went about in a daze. Met a friend who told me some sad stories about herself. Felt bad for her. Zonked and slightly drunk I trudged back in the metro and came home. HATE the metro ride. It is far too long! Shitty write. Blaaheehaa

00:42 IST
The Downstairs Room, Inderpuri
New Delhi, India

Went to Nehru Memorial Museum and Library today, also called Teen Murti Bhavan. It's in central Delhi, with its wide roads flanked by green and trees and pretty white and red houses. Twas a beautiful place. Open gardens with peacocks running about, well maintained grass, a canteen, flowers in bloom,  massive rocks with quotes by our famous leaders carved on them. One could just sit and read. I did exactly that. Walked out, crossed the busy roundabout road. Was helped by two policemen who stopped the cars so I could cross the road! (I'd like to think that). The roundabouts don't have traffic lights on them na.

Walked on the pavement for a bit. Had my period (first day) so didn't want to walk much. Waited at a bus stop for a bus to take me to the nearest metro station. A small white bus came along, the conductor yelled 'metrometrometrometro' just the way I wrote. I wasn't sure if I should get on, because it wasn't the regular low-floor/DTC bus. But on seeing a lot of people sitting I quickly hopped on. Reached the Central Secretariat metro station and took the metro till JLN Stadium. Got off, took an auto till Nizamuddin dargah. Twas a Thursday and a qawwali night and the courtyard of the dargah was jam packed. People everywhere. Sitting, standing, walking, hands spread out begging, hands folded praying, laughing, talking, clicking pictures. People thronged the space. All heads covered with caps/scarves. During namaz, the call to God, all heads pointed in one direction, all, heads bent in a single file in one direction. Twas a sight to watch. I am not sure I believe in religion. But this prayer, this oneness, it exudes from within us an energy. Every single fibre within our being is focused on one thought, or action. Every single fibre within every single person's being is focused on the same thought, or action. THAT creates a symphony - which is beautiful to watch. It happens everywhere - music is a great way to bring that energy out. In concerts, satsang. qawwali - any gathering with music, you will find that energy. I do not know what it is but it is beautiful being a part of it. But to be completely honest with you, I was waiting for the boi, the whole time. I wanted him to come to me, meet me, be with me. He gave me a glimmer of hope by telling me that he would meet me and he I blew that up into a fire of expectation. And I waited. I was atop someone's roof and looked down at every single face, waiting for him. But he wasn't there. I called and his phone was switched off. I was upset. And concerned. I called his friend who he was supposed to be with, but she didn't pick up the phone either. I waited for a while longer then left. Jostled my way outside and took a rikshaw ride till Jangpura metro station. Was stared at A LOT on the way. Was not flattered, a little scared in fact. Visions of acid played up in my mind. Reached my stop. Walked across a pedestrian overbridge and reached the metro station. Upon reaching, boi's friend called to tell me that he was with her throughout the show and left with her. I was hurt and upset and angry and confused. No idea why. I made my way home and tears kept welling up my eyes. I kept hoping to bump into him but that never happened. Funny how I completely lost track of my journey, and instead just wrote about my feelings regarding the boi. Not sure if this is good or not, but this certainly was the flow of thoughts. At least I'm honest. My sole redemption.