The Constant

With each passing day of my life I wonder, what is it that’s constant? It’s not me, nor the moment, everything’s ambiguous. Everyday, I have a different thought that takes me to my thinking place.

Life seems like a continuous carousel of pictures from different walks of my life. I’m not particularly happy about the same thing each day. It’s always different. Not to forget, each day teaches me something new about myself. All the past years’ learning made me who I’m today. So, where does it all lead to? Right now it doesnt seem to lead anywhere. But in this quest of knowing what’s the purpose of me, I have become more conscious. The purpose of me as a part of this dynamic world. But is it just one purpose. I wonder.

Some people love me, some might hate me, some think of me as an inspiration while some might think of me as a failure… It’s all relative. The idea of me is different for different people. So, I deduce that life is not about one ultimate purpose. It’s about multiple purposes you serve throughout your life. The impact you create on anyone you’re with. You need not be all righteous. It’s about being truthful of who you really are. Because if you fail at that, you might just fail at all the purposes you served.

I’m 25 and from the day I was capable of thinking all I did was – think what really matters, hoping that I would someday find an answer. But here I’m still thinking. Have I failed at understanding who I really am? Did I excel in this conquest and figured it all out? I don’t really know. But something I know for sure. This is the only thing that keeps me going. The curiosity. That’s my constant.


The old ‘me’

“Its after two long years and here comes my moment, I felt like I was meant for his arms. We moulded so perfectly into each other, like two inseparable souls in one body. Its just easy and undoubted that I love him. I love him with all my heart and soul and there’s is something still existent between us that cannot be washed away with time, by people or any other way. His eyes are so true, each time I look at them, I fall in love with him all over again. The innocence in his voice just makes me forget all the hurt and anger. I know, I’m crazy for him and there’s something inside me that will always be his and won’t let me forget him ever in my life.  I just can’t let him go.”

Nostalgia hits me hard, whenever I come across my old diary. It feels like, I’m there in the past experiencing all what happened and what I felt then. But, its just matter of seconds that I take control and come back to reality, as past is past and is gone and I cannot relive it, no matter how desperately I want to. While, wandering through the old pages, I recall the ‘old me’, how sensitive, how considerate was that girl. Unknown to the intricacies of life, she was honest and naive. As the time passed by, I notice the changes life has brought in her. How she changed from a sweet, innocent girl to an independent and strong woman. However, even now whenever I come across the old me in certain events, I feel glad and cherish the ways of that girl in me. She knew how to love unconditionally, how to be free of all expectations and all she wanted in return, was to be loved. Now that times have changed, the expectations are all that matters, love is bounded by doubts and distrust and all she needs is to be left alone in peace. Its like the entire meaning of life has been altered and now its easy to let go than to find strength and hold on to something you truly love. There was a time, when I could find hope and visualize the bright future ahead but now the vision has been blurred by delusions and fear of the uncertain. Belief and trust have become mere words without any meaning to them. Writing all of this numbs my mind, the old me wants to come back and infuse new life in me but the pain I have experienced over a period of time has made me hostile and even thinking about any change creates a sense of insecurity and leaves me in a dilemma; what’s better, to be the ‘old me’ or continue to live the way I’m.



Every time I talk to you I wonder; what is it? Is it a truth or a stone cold lie?

The sweet words that you say, the care, the concern I see in your eyes,

What is it? Is it a truth or a stone cold lie?

Your comforting touch, your reassuring hug, whenever i meet you, a tender peck on my cheek that makes me shy.

My heart starts beating again and I slither in to my dream world, where our love is all you would want and would never deny.

However, all of it makes me shiver, makes me cry, when I begin to speculate, what is it? Is it a truth or a stone cold lie?

If  love is what you get when you give true love, then why is it that I am famished? I try to understand why,

You made me fall in love with you; made my heart and soul indemnify, I thought of it as a sacred vow you will keep, till the day we die.

But now that you’ve left me alone, I wonder, what was it all? Was it a truth or a stone cold lie?


The old yellow box

Sunday afternoon’s are usually the most lazy once, especially when you are tired of Saturday’s party night. However, this Sunday afternoon turned out to be an unexpected contrast for me. My mother didn’t allow me to rest my lazy ass on the couch, she dragged me to my room and made me clean my closet. I certainly consider this work to be a less productive one so, I normally abstained from doing it. But when its your mother’s order, you got to obey them. Any which ways, while I am on to this boring task of cleaning my closet, I happen to notice a bright yellow box kept in the lowest shelf. Reaching towards it, I tried to recall what is it and what it contains, but my weak memory didn’t help me much. Suddenly, when I was about to open it, all the memories came gushing and I recalled each and every detail of the box and the things in it.

The old yellow box was my quilling box. It had all my colorful quilling papers and quilling needles. Looking at the colorful papers, all the memories of my innocent old days came running back to me. I recalled the time, when i used to make specialized paper quilling greeting cards and photo frames for the people I loved. I used to spend days in making them. In those times, quilling wasn’t a simple paper art for me, it was a way to express myself. My way of telling my loved ones, how special they are to me. But as I moved ahead in my life, all the old ways of expressions were replaced by new and easy options. Looking at the half winded quills and unmade flowers, I felt in amidst of this life now, I have lost my true essence. Now, it doesn’t really matter to me, if my gifts make someone feel special. Gifting has become a mere formality for me.

Without even my own realization, my hands started quilling again. I searched for the perfect colored papers and started arranging the quills on the handcrafted paper. In no time, I had a beautiful card for my mom. By the time I finished quilling, my mom was already there to check if I have finished cleaning my closet or not. She was about to burst out with temper, looking at the huge pile of clothes and stuff, I handed off the card to her. She stared at it for a while and in a few moments her lips curved into a sweet smile. Looking at her smiling, my heart was overfilled with contentment. I was happy that after so long, something that i made brought a smile to someones face. The very moment i decided, not to let go of my old ways of expression and continue to make my loved ones happy with the gifts they deserve. A sincere wish to make others happy and a little extra effort, and you can also give your loved ones what they truly deserve.

My Travel diaries : Golconda

Golconda: Through a commoner’s perspective

Golconda fort is one of the most famous monuments in Hyderabad, well known city in the southern states of India. A single glimpse at Golconda and any person can anticipate that the monument imbibes a long history of war and hatred. However, Golconda also offers a plethora of heroic tales of love, courage, sacrifice, belief and over and above all, a liberal ideology. All of it can’t be seen through naked eyes but can be realized, once you get to know the past of the place.

I have always had a strange fascination toward historic places. So, whenever I visit monuments, I make it a point that I do a little history check on the place. Although, this time it turned out to be one of the most unplanned visits. We arrived at Golconda by dawn, with whatever little sunlight left all I could clearly see was the huge fortification wall surrounding the monument. Evidently, it was a place where the kings or Sultans lived. By the time we passed through the main entrance of the fort, it was dark. The locals told us that there is a light and sound show that is played every day after dawn. So, we decided to have a look. What we missed out on was the exact time of the show and by the time we realized the same, the show already commenced. They also told us that it is being played in the central chamber, which is a 15 minutes’ walk. So, we rushed through the path leading to the central chamber, ran past the hall ways and reached the central chamber in less than 8 minutes, as we never wanted to miss the beginning of it. Nevertheless, we did miss it. We took seats in the last row as it was at a greater height and gave a holistic view of the whole chamber and the surrounding. I was excited and inquisitive as the show was a recitation on the history of the place in Amitabh Bachan’s voice.

The show was interplay of audio and visual effects, the conversation was between a bunch of people, who I assume were tourists and Amitabh being the storyteller. There were several stories told about the rulers, their families, their administration and other important aspects of their reign. The show was splendid; with each mood change in the dialogue the color and intensity of the lights were altered. It felt like each wall that was lit by the colorful light, has come to life and is reciting the story themselves. There were moments that just took my breath away. Amid the whole show, the stories of Ibrahim Quli Qutub Shah and his son, Muhammed Quli Qutub Shah were actual head turners for me. Both the father and the son were great rulers and during their reign the kingdom had seen abundance in terms of both wealth and prosperity. What caught my attention were their love lives; Muhammed Quli Qutub Shah is well known for his profound love for Bhagamati, Devadasi girl (temple dancer) of Hindu origin who eventually became his queen. There were many tales that narrated Muhammed Quli’s immense love for Bhagamati, one of which stated that he named the city across the river Musi, Bhagnagar, after Bhagamati. Ibrahim Quli Qutub Shah himself had a Telugu wife, Bhagirathi, who was also the mother of Muhammed Quli Qutub Shah. Muhammed Quli was also a connoisseur of art and literature. He was a prolific poet, effusive about romance, beauty and religion.  It is said that one can have repeated glimpses of Bhagamati come in between the lines of ghazals and poems written by Muhammed Quli.

What I gathered from Muhammed Quli’s love story was his liberal ideology. He was a Prince and had a high degree of responsibility and restrictions in terms of marriage. However, despite of all the odds, he had the courage and endurance to stand up to his true love. He didn’t let the idealist bonds of religion and society hold back his love for Bhagamati. The show took me to an alternate universe, where I could see that people then, were comparatively broad minded and castes were mere sects of society and not a license for discrimination. The show ended and gave me a reason to rethink my beliefs about love, relationships and religion. My visit to Golconda was an unplanned one, but it turned out to be a highly inspiring and educative.