Trial by Fire

I don’t know how to describe this. It feels like I’m blowing a puff of air from my mouth onto my dusty old diary. We surely must have lost the definition of time, as I only realized I was here on this page looking at words floating around, more than a year ago. I do not believe in drafts, and as usual even this post is raw, as is, from my mind, my fingers moving involuntarily across the keyboard. It’s funny how this turned, maybe I believed in drafts because I believed in perfection. I often visited the store close to my place when I was a kid to buy my art supplies, the owner was a very kind man who used to encourage my experiments with art. He often asked me to bring him some of my work, but all I used to talk about was how it wasn’t in the final stage and needed to be reworked on regarding final details. What he told me stuck with me through the years; If you keep looking at your work over and over, you will find more number of imperfections. Since then I haven’t looked back. Maybe it isn’t so bad to live with the tiny imperfections that exist in life.

This is also going to be different from the other stuff you find on here; because of me trying to stay as positive as possible. Almost every post on here is about me trying my best to pick out the positives from all kinds of situations in life, and trying to channel my thoughts into trying to explain my perspective which could aid you in looking at similar obstacles if you face any. This is just going to be a heart to heart, actual description of circumstances; maybe even a futile attempt at a diary entry because I don’t think the idea of an annual diary entry exists or probably isn’t the most popular idea. This doesn’t even explain the entire year, just series of calamities that made me feel like my life was moving slower than it usually was.

July 2021

It’s not everyday you wake up and decide to completely leave your bad experiences and memories behind to try something that left you only with grief the last time you tried it. If you’re someone who knows me closely, or someone who happened to read my earlier posts, you will be aware that I lost my dog when she was over year old to kidney failure. Since then I’ve moved into a new home at a very nice, quiet and serene environment. My mother and I loved animals, so we felt like we were ready to adopt another puppy. It’s the last week of June 2021, and I tell my friend that we were looking for a puppy, for which he tells me that he knows someone who has a 1 month old puppy and they were looking at a new home for him. I was excited. Probably beyond excited because I found myself ordering stuff online for the puppy, from his food bowl to his shampoo. I felt like how I did in 2017 when I got my first puppy Zoey.

I’m driving with my friend and my mom, with the puppy restlessly jumping around in the car because he wasn’t used to being in a car. When I first picked him up he licked my fingers, and I just knew that he was meant to come to me. I wasn’t that sure when he was screaming inside the car on the way back home though. We bring him and everyone’s delighted to have him. When I first picked him and looked at his innocent eyes and cute little nose, all I could think was how I’d finally get myself to be responsible for him. If I had any regrets with Zoey, it’s that there were moments I should’ve cherished; something like taking her for her walks or probably just playing with her, but I lazed away from because I was too tired from college or just occupied with something that required minimum physical and mental effort. I am built that way; if the day is full of work that requires my attention or any kind of physical effort, I try to dedicate a little bit of time to help myself ‘zone out’ a little. From recent events, I can fully confirm that not giving that period of time to myself can completely drive me insane, and put my physical and mental health at peril.

If you’re someone who never had a pet, or a human baby at home. I can assure you that having a newborn baby at home is exactly the same as that of having a pet. From medications, to giving your pet attention; sometimes you really need to believe that any form of newborn life act identical. I can confidently claim I was fully committed this time, I used to take care of all the puppy’s needs by myself with help from my mother. It was a difficult yet fruitful first three days. We could barely sleep at night because he hated to be left alone at nights, and sometimes really needed to go out and take care of his needs.

Day 4 started off differently. I woke up to a puddle of fluid, and I couldn’t really figure out what it was. I had my doubts that the puppy was sick, but he seemed to be fine walking and playing around. It wasn’t until I tried to feed him that I realized that there was indeed something really wrong with him, because he was refusing to eat. We took him straight away to the local vet, who told us that it had to do something with indigestion so we needed to be careful about what we fed him from there on. We brought him back home, fed him electrolytes using a dropper to make sure he wasn’t dehydrated. There still seemed to be signs that his problem wasn’t sorted, as it continued to bother him at night and forced him into starving himself. The next day I took him to the vet again who reassured me that we just need to let him have his time to recover, because he must’ve eaten something he shouldn’t have as dogs usually do. We took him home again. The next day, I happened to see him struggling, being lethargic and passing blood. I lost my faith in the local vet and rushed to the government veterinary hospital close to my home. I do not intend to blame anyone after what happened has happened, but what happened there really contributed to me being a little more insensitive about human beings in general. When we stepped into the hospital (2:50 pm IST), we saw a woman rushing out and we told her that the puppy needed immediate medical attention as he was really sick. The woman told me that government hospitals only functioned till 3:00 PM and that we were late. In the next few moments she had completely disappeared from the hospital premises. We were left completely disheartened because we knew the puppy needed urgent care, but the next closest hospital was at least a few hours away. I also never really considered the problem to be a serious one, so we consoled ourselves and went home.

We turned up at the hospital really early the next day, and was astonished to see that the woman who walked away earlier was the doctor in charge. She looked at the puppy and concluded that the puppy had a parvo virus attack, which is a very fatal condition for dogs. Ironically, they told me that puppies escape these types of situation if the problems are diagnosed at the earliest. They gave him medication, asked us to bring him again the next day. We took him home, gave him his electrolytes, kept him in his favorite box, where I’d set up a mini bed for him. There were moments when he was playful, peeping out of the box. I was relieved and I went back to work. I left my room because I needed to get a cup of coffee, and I looked into the box to make sure how he was doing. It took me a second to realize that he wasn’t in his usual deep slumber. His body was cold, stiff and frozen. There are a lot of good memories with him that I do have, but trying to remember only leaves me feeling absolutely empty. But the moment when I had to close his eyes with my hands is stuck with me forever. I did not cry. I took him, all his things, his toy and his food. We buried a grave for him, lowered down his body along with his favorite toy. We burnt the rest of his things. I was told that Parvo remains in the environment, so I did not want other dogs to suffer what my Leo did. I stood there for what felt like hours, looking at the flame go out slowly, dying into embers. I did promise to be committed to the end, and here I was looking at the flames go out. My grandmother was left distraught at because of what happened to the puppy; and at the same time she was weeping because she had just learned from her sister that her brother was hospitalized after he collapsed earlier the same day. For some reason I found it rather disturbing because her weeping for her brother somehow made me irritated because I was trying to pull my mind together after I just lost my puppy. She told me that the dog can be replaced but not her brother. I was left enraged and I told her that it is simply not fair to judge the value of a life depending on if it’s an animal or a human being. I think I have learnt a lot since I made that statement. If you make it to the last line of this post, you will know exactly about the feeling of what I am describing about.

August 2021

I am extremely grateful to God, for being blessed with a wonderful family, cousins and friends. I was able to recover from the feeling of emptiness, earlier than I believed I would. I wanted to stay away from that house, so I was back in my town, out with my friends having lunch at a fancy restaurant. It’s only been two days since I left home, I was out there with my friends trying to help myself heal. I was taking pictures of my friends having fun when I received a message from my mother. I opened it to a rather perplexing and cryptic message which read ” Grandmother serious”.

What makes someone feel worse about something is perhaps not having proper knowledge of the situation, maybe more than the situation in itself. I was tensed, I tried calling my mother several times only for her to not respond to any of my calls. I was however keen to not panic, as thankfully my logic prevailed at the time to help myself acknowledge the fact that my grandmother was old and it is normal for her to experience occasional health issues, and also that my mother really counted on me to offer her support during such a time. Later when I called her, I tried to make her stop crying over the phone and also assured her that I will be there for her. To think that I was on a getaway to escape from the tragic loss of my pet to be only returning back to where I was running away from to learn that my grandmother was suffering in the hospital really got into me. I cannot really explain how I felt, sometimes I just wanted to sleep and not wake up the next day because things only seemed to be getting worse by the day.

I am again grateful that I have wonderful family. When I was away, and my sister and dad were away for work as well, my mother’s cousin stepped in to offer his complete support in every way possible. It was only when I came in and forced him to go home, he stepped away from the hospital. It was a horrible few days at the hospital. Everything was vague because no one could really figure out what was happening and the medical observations were rather blurry and not really positively convincing. My dad stepped in for me the next night; I came back home to get some of my stuff to go back into the hospital again. The next morning we learn that my grandmother has passed. Again, I do not know why I did not cry, at least maybe not immediately. I think I did a good job convincing myself that I will not appear weak to any eyes, at least for the sake of my mother, who was a single child and an only daughter. Everyone who knew my grandmother always told me that she always wanted a baby boy too, but were really not in a financial condition to afford a quality life for another child. It was a very strong decision, because it is admirable that she put the quality of her daughter’s and family’s life over her own desires. That is what she was, a strong willed, independent woman, who loved us more than anything in this world. Like everyone even she had her flaws. She had a way of speaking that could easily provoke anyone, she also had a way to make sure that she got what she wanted done even at the cost of other’s sacrifices, and they were poorly left acknowledged at the business end as well. We knew what kind of a person she was, but she will always be remembered for the good memories we shared.

I volunteered to stay in the back side of the ambulance along with the body. I closed the windows, I felt sweat dripping into my mask and me finding it extremely difficult to breathe. I think there was a second I wanted to be completely wiped out of existence, and I cried silently but, the hardest way I have ever done. I held her hands on the entire way. I always helped her walk when she found it difficult to, it only felt right that I held her hands into her final destination. When we approached the house, I opened the window to catch a glance of my mother, who stood there silently, with the feeling of shock presiding that of grief. I closed the window in a hurry, and I swept away my tears. I really believed that if my grandmother really needed anything from me, it’s that I take good care of my mother and never let her feel a moment of loneliness. I intended to and always will stay true to that. We are mutually aware that we will only have each other at the worst of times. A difficult few days followed. While we were slowly coping up with the situation, our physical and mental health deteriorated. My mother constantly fell sick and I think I brought myself into a point where the state of how my mother reacted to the circumstance was starting to affect me. I was admitted into a hospital with issues that later proved to be mild, but I was left with constant paranoia and confusion.

I took her ashes to the place I was born, and performed rituals at that blessed, holy site. I returned to my town after that with my mother. I made sure I was with her when we visited the doctor, and that she was soon back to her normal self. Here we are, over a month later. We have physically recovered, but when I’m back at this house, sitting on the chair typing this, I know that my grandmother will forever be missed. There will always be a void left unfilled, but something we must learn to live with.

A very trivial and a hypothetical question that we find asking ourselves, might sound extremely insensitive some but one of absolute logic to others:

If I had a chance to bring one of them back to life, who would it be.

My heart definitely screamed to bring my grandmother back. Now it might seem like I am contradicting my own ideals of treating all lives equally. While I truly do believe this, I think I couldn’t be more wrong in only simply stating it; I think every individual value the life of that which has influenced the life of its own the most, over the others.

We do not know when is the last time we talk to someone, help them in any tiny way possible or maybe even smile at them. It is inevitable that if something happens to any life after we separated with a negative instance, we will forever live to regret that moment. Maybe they only way one can surely overcome this uncertainty in life is to treat all lives with as well as we can, whenever we can. I have made lapses in judgement, regarding many decisions, concerning many lives. We cannot carry the regrets forever, to our end. It is only fair that we try to mend our ways moving forward. I do not know when I will be back here, letting my thoughts run wild and free. But until then.

Keep growing.

image by jannoon28. By freepik.com

Mirage.

As of now, this moment. Here I am sitting in front of my computer looking for words to express how I feel right now. Vapor slowly rising from a hot cup of coffee sitting next to me. I am a man who observes. Someone who loves to embrace the serenity quietness provide. Stay quiet and still, so that all I hear are the chirping of tiny birds in my balcony, and wind rustling the leaves of the trees outside my apartment. Yet even I am unable to find my way through this situation, when every person I know are locked inside within their homes in fear and anxiety. I observed the kids play, the old couple walking on the street as the sun set, students running across blocks trying to make it to their classes on time; through my window. Now my window is powered by electricity, my only connect with the world outside.

I was something of a traveler myself, years of routine starting with me climbing onto crowded buses and then jumping out of one to get onto another. I used to loathe the idea of shifting from one bus to the other; because it mainly involved waiting for long periods in stations with no shelter experiencing the scorching heat of the afternoon sun. I was always rather clever to avoid the sun when I finally get into the bus because I was aware of the positioning of seats and from which direction the rays would be entering inside; If I did get a seat. An ironic moment for a person who claims to enjoy the most when playing with friends under the sun, for hours. After the application of sun positioning and navigation and further leaps from one bus to the other. All the stress of finding space in buses aside, time never seemed to be a factor that ever bothered me, as I shut myself from the external world with about ten songs I listen to everyday. I did secretly enjoy the melodramatic scene I created, music so loud everything else appeared mute, as I looked outside the window when I immersed myself with the thoughts of situations that could happen in an ideal world.

When someone tells you home is not somewhere you live in, home means the people you live with; you better believe it. As I step into the college premises everyday, I am excited for how I get to spend my time with my friends on the day. Everyday promising a new experience filled with fun and drama. You meet and spend time with all kinds of people. The quiet and serious ones, the carefree type and the ones trying to enjoy but pretend like they work all the time. There was a new story about certain someone doing something with someone else that created waves of chatter between friends. When the chatter does subside, the silence was more than capable of filling the gap. I would wrap my arms around the one I love and I could look into her bright beautiful eyes and tell her that I love her, and listen to her reminding me how warm my body was. Every walk we walked were different. Every instance of spending time together, working together, or even lunch together; everything offered something everyone craves in their life the most. Change. After all it is what separates us from the screen I am looking at right now; as long as I am alive, I will always welcome the possibility of change.

We say our goodbyes, and I am back where I started. Back to the whole bus experience. And when I finally reach home, I did not feel tired, but I felt the need to reward myself with time dedicated just for myself, where no one spoke, no one is fighting for a seat or no one is asking me to get a ticket. You could say that I practiced social distancing every evening before it became a global phenomenon.

I never thought my life contained so many instances of adventure and excitement that I had to actually write about it. I deemed it as a rather monotonous, boring life. But what I would not give to go back to it. To go back to travelling under the sun, to go back to watching kids play and scream at the top of their voices on the playground, to see old couples walk on the street again trying to find time to communicate openly with each other and enjoy their time separated from the rest of the world, and hug my love again and tell her how much I missed her.

I took a break. I decided to close my eyes and focus on what I could hear. The chirps were more clear and prominent, almost like the number of birds exponentially increased when we decided to stay inside. The sparrows were tweeting and the peacock crying loud as they walked across my street with their young ones by their side, fearlessly. It felt like every being who could now walk outside without the fear of being inflicted by anything gathered together outside our homes to remind us about how important it is to strive for a balance in nature. Maybe this is for the better. Maybe we will grow. Maybe we will do enough to restore the world of it’s peace not only among humans but among every living being. For now we play the waiting game, we are on a fight when we go up against forces not in our control and all we have is hope and the virtue of patience in our arsenal. We stay strong together, and we wait.

After all as they say, This too shall pass.

Image credits. Freepik.com

Roller-coaster.

Oh yes I am aware. You are sitting in a train whistling through towns and forests, the bright sunlight rushing through the windows, creating a rather sharp shadow of the window sill on your lap. The busy atmosphere filled with noises of playing children, middle-aged workers talking loudly into their phones, vendors running about screaming out promotions, and infants crying so loud that you wish you were deaf. It takes only a moment for the shift to sink in as the loud, lively train meets the ghastly isolated entrance of a tunnel. Everything and everyone goes still, as the darkness gushes in like a blanket overcoming the light that was present. The sound of silence overpowers the sound of life. The moment maybe short where the journey is concerned. But it does exist. Like every other situation, even this one loves it’s occasional cameo. Yes, I am aware of the transition. When the smile fades, when your thoughts revolve around mistakes and regrets, when you forget how to laugh. Contagious joy around people only invoking rage within yourself. You know you are slipping into the darkness, but sometimes no amount of light can creep into the tunnel you are falling into.

Lack of fulfillment. Existential crisis. The two openings of the same tunnel. Most of us share this darkness. A rather uninvited guest, yet makes sure to visit us often, this feeling making us question the purpose of our life often leaving us in a state of dismay and rather unsettled. The systems around us have programmed our thoughts to reward ourselves with the gift of satisfaction when we involve ourselves in acts of goodwill. To help others, to bring about a change that helps someone feel better, or something work better. However many of us are lucky enough to push away these thoughts into pools of ignorance, there is the other half unconsciously questioning their own conduct because of their inability to win karma points for the day. Maybe you haven’t yet identified this as your nemesis, but maybe it’s time you fought back. Step outside, help someone in need. Maybe you will feel better. Maybe you would keep the darkness away, even if only for a day.

A story of what could’ve been. This one is tricky, a ruse. A wolf disguised as sheep. The one which keeps you lying on your bed or sitting still on beach shores, intoxicated by thoughts illustrated by your imagination. The string of thoughts woven perfectly to suit the circumstances you would have hoped for. The fairy tale ending you always craved for. What started of as a harmless, docile offspring of an idle mind, only takes little time to evolve into a deadly, venomous monster. Just like hills, the higher you climb, the lower you go on the other side. Your mind like a car running on the road being continuously fueled by freshly brewed stories, suddenly meeting with a car crash; as the car runs into a wall of reality. Now you are buried under the debris of insecurity and self-doubt. The sheep skin has been finally torn apart, and now the wolf is glaring at you, ready to feed on your fears. You fight it with a needle. A needle that grows into a dagger, and into a sword as you learn to stand your ground and learn to live in the present sense of reality.

Isolation. A double edged sword. Some find strength in being alone. Some find it emotionally draining. Whoever coined the term social-beings to represent humans has hit their dart on the bull’s eye. As you feel yourself slipping into an abyss of darkness, you fall with the confidence that you have with you, someone who can extend a hand and pull you out of it. But sometimes we get too comfortable with these settings. We always prepared to be part of the army, but we overlooked the possibility that we could be the last one standing to fight the war before it was over. We find the essence of hope and happiness in those who are close to us, we tap into these reserves as we imbibe upon similar feelings to make ourselves feel better. Our memories, our strengths, our qualities, our purpose. These reserves exist within ourselves, but we are blinded by the darkness. Maybe if we realized that the only person we need to ask for motivation is ourselves, we could graze past this avalanche of bad thoughts.

Boredom. An idle mind is the devil’s workshop. Most of the times, the idle mind is what generates the crack on your willful mind for all the other negativity to creep into. It is important that we invest our time into an activity that we associate our satisfaction and joy with. We call it passion. It is important that we hold onto passion, because when times get rough, as it surely will. Our passion offers us an escape route to the exit of the tunnel. The small doorway where you can see the bright rays of light entering.

No matter what tunnels we find ourselves in, I hope we regain our sight and faith to find the exit of the tunnel, no matter how far or small it may seem.

Images by lifeforstock. freepik.com

Unlocking Doors.

It was finally time. The hour has finally come. I stood outside my apartment, placed my fingers slowly on the doorbell switch, watching as my mom opened the door with a smile like she always does. I took a glance at the stack of shoes near the door. The stickers on the door reverberating hospitality. I called this place home for 10 years. Now my journey has left me at crossroads. This time I had there was no shortcuts or cheat codes to find a way to cling on to my sanctuary spot. In 6 months I will be moving to new lands, looking for opportunities of study to pursue my higher education. I had no choice but to move on. I never believed in being overly attached to inanimate objects, even though I’d argue the case for my phone and computer, I would never really have thought that I would indeed, miss my apartment so much. Every time I stepped out of the doorway and locked the door, my subconscious was keeping a subtle count of how many times I get to repeat the action until I leave the place for good. Suddenly I was flying, as a wild familiar storm of Deja vu blew me off my toes.

Drowsy, maybe it was a boring class. I slowly opened my eyes, with an unpleasant aftertaste of anxiety. Maybe the feeling of separation however did not contain itself within my living premises. The grimness lurked it’s way into my personal and college life. Like every other student would agree, the people and the experiences pulled me towards the college, like a moth towards a candle flame. We were in our final year of study, counting days left for each of us where we can meet, share and have fun together. Many of us chose to follow their path towards a successful career, which meant that many of them would be leaving many of the others behind as they slowly learn to make the transition to work life. A few rare cases of friends ending up in the same workplace proved as exceptions, as the others dreaded the moment when they will have to face the reality of letting their best friends with whom they have spent the best parts of 4 years spent on and off university grounds. This transition apparently presenting itself to be a stumbling block in the smooth road of relationship for couples and friendship in best friends.

Maybe I was a little fortunate in that aspect. I managed to hold onto my love and my boys, at least until the end of the academic year. But it was never going to be easy watching your friends go, and even worse; watch the ones you love suffer from letting go of people close to them. It was like classic cinema; what started off as drama and romance had spiraled into mystery; Everyone quite anxious and filled with speculation of what is to become of their future. It was overwhelming, I was falling deep into that endless pit; and I opened my eyes, finding myself staring at an uninteresting roof.

My phone rung so loud that it deafened me for a second. Rather strange, to receive a call this late. I looked at the time, and then at the date. I smiled as I knew what came next is going to stay in my head for a long time to come. The next moment, I was lying on the bed eyes wide open, trying to find that glorious moment that would put me into a deep peaceful sleep; something that has evaded me since the thought of moving out was planted in my head. I looked around me and I saw three absolutely crazy, weird misfits around me, sleep deprived, tired, all passed out with tiny stains of my birthday cake near their mouths. These guys welcomed me to this place when I was just a boy, just 10 years of age. From somewhere between fighting for our favorite seats in school buses and long spicy conversations about our love lives we managed to enjoy each other’s company; and also put up with each other’s anomalies.

My head hit the window and I woke up with a start. I could see my buddy complaining onto my face about how I fell asleep in the bus when I was actually supposed to be sharing some of my interesting stories with him. Him reminding that I had only six months left to do all these did not help my anxiety. I had to remind him often that I would be in fact moving onto higher levels of education and not afterlife. Even though we had to endure long hours of travel to commute between our homes and college, it presented us with the gift of time to share and engage. The conversations kept the trip alive and joyful, at least when I was not dozing off next to a very curious person sitting next to me disgruntled at my choice of nap times. I’m a late night person, so it was only natural that a second later I found the same window pane I had just crashed onto; to be a soft quilt for me to fall asleep on.

I felt a soft hand around my face. Slowly tapping my nose, in a cute way to wake up. I moved my head around a bit, enjoying the comfort and warmth I felt resting on those legs. I opened my eyes and I knew I was looking at my favorite person in the whole wide world. I was treated to a menacing smile, something that was in equilibrium with ‘that felt good’ and ‘we’re late for class!’. Sometimes I enjoyed being a bit of a rebel, as I reasoned with her to let me get comfortable for some more time. But I was dealing with a rather responsible person here. Soon I was dragging myself to a class I absolutely did not like attending; A necessary evil in this case maybe. Maybe physically present, but again little did I know I’d be drifting into another world which had nothing much to do with computers and e-commerce.

The alarm was screaming into my ears. I felt like I’d just been dizzy punched by a bear. I wish I could just go back to sleep. My eyes looked tired, my mind weakened with fatigue. But it was another day. A new window for new experiences. Another chance to do something new with the people I love spending time with. Another day of the six months. I thought going back into the trance of sleep where I could relive my moments made me happy, at least until I realized that looking forward to a new day, to meet everyone again was actually what was driving me forward.

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The Cost of Confession.

Truth. Honesty. Presenting the details of a situation or an event to another person or a group of people without any of the details being altered to suit the interests of the person narrating. We throw around the expression “Honesty is the best policy” when in fact we barely follow the definition of honesty in our daily lives. Unbiased opinion is rare to come by these days, we always present not the situation as it is, instead we present our version of the truth comfortably adulterated to show ourselves in a better light. As we try to communicate the incident to another, we slowly make the transition from stating facts to being excellent story tellers; sometimes to an extent when we ourselves are aware of the fact that we really have deviated from what actually is, the truth.

I would like to believe that the fear of confession buds from the fear of being denied. Most of the times, we find ourselves in tricky situations which we could walk away from if we were to come up with a creative lie. As children we sometimes were too innocent and naive to understand the magnitude and role of consequences in our lives. We often did what we wanted to in the moment, oblivious to the aftermath that could arise from our actions. From breaking the window glass, to spending all the money in the drawer to buy candy; we did things that made us happy. When caught, we push away the prospect of us being the suspect with so much of confidence and weave stories lest we don’t feel the wrath of the middle aged neighbor whose window we just shattered. We were sure we would be barred from playing outside for a considerable amount of time.

Fast forward to the next stage in our lives; energetic young teenagers. A time when grade sheets and report cards say so much to our parents by saying so little. Imagine being grounded because of alphabets on a sheet of paper. A time when we want to play and experiment all the time. When we are less aware of the perils of the real world of expectations and hardships. All we wanted to do was to play. All of us at some point in our lives have had to come up with an alternate truth to earn the little window of time we get to spend together with friends and enjoy playing with them. While timelines are different, the punishment if found guilty hasn’t aged at all. It’s just what you’re being denied of, be it something abstract or material.

Play time is over. You’re something of an adult teenager now. A phase when you are denied freedom because you are too young and overloaded with the heavy burdens of expectations to always do the right thing because you’re old enough to. Something of a paradox, that one. When we are at liberty to involve ourselves in activities that are generally considered positive influence on our academic and social perceptions, we find ourselves having to seek permission from our elders to do things that we can enjoy. The most absurd excuses and stories to cover up what actually happened. Conspiring with our friends to convince each other’s parents that we are indeed innocent kids bound by the circle of restrictions drawn around us. Be it an adventure trip to the mountains, or taking the person you love to a cafe or for a walk; At this stage we realize the value of freedom, as we try to fight the forces of denial valiantly, even if it means we need to carefully devise lies to go hand in hand with each other.

Years of practice of manipulating the truth, yet we really are terrible liars. Behind the veil of restrictions and rules, there was always someone who understood and cared for us on the other side. We were always caught when we lied, regardless of the response, as linear as it sounds; getting worse with the increasing age of the liar. I am thankful I was raised in an environment where I was informed of the aftermath of any of my actions before I indulged myself in it. My parents believed that if I still chose to be involved in these situations in spite of being well aware of the consequences, it could be because it was unavoidable. Trust can only be reciprocated by trust.

Sometimes denial can seem too cruel. While I did state the fear of confession is born from the fear of denial. We fail to realize denial is born from doubt. If we fail to develop the element of trust with those around us, we are forever plagued by denial. As we do things we are not expected to, as we promise to do something some way and take the opposite path without honoring our promises, the bond of trust is shattered into pieces that cannot be fixed easily. When the moment arises when those who seek a feeling of responsibility in us stop us from doing something, maybe we should just accept it. Trust is not something that’s developed in a day or a fortnight. It is slowly constructed brick by brick, each step reflecting on our actions and choices. With a good level of trust in each other, feelings of denial and doubt can be banished.

Today I am confident I can tell my parents what I want to do, where I want to go and who I want to go with. I was lucky I have been able to develop the feeling of trust within each other to an extent I believe they will never stand in the way between me and my happiness.

Be blunt. Maybe feel denied a few times. But a time will come when trust overcomes doubt.

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You’ve got a friend in Me.

It was another cloudy day. The end of my school vacation was approaching, marking the end of summer as well. It was a smooth transition from the scorching heat and shining sun to heavy rains and cold breeze. I was out for a walk with my grandfather, something I have enjoyed throughout my childhood and even today. I was just a 10 year old boy scared of speeding vehicles on the highway so close to my house I could hear the buses waging wars against each other. I held onto his hands, refusing to let go; The sense of responsibility regarding the safety and well being of my old grandfather prioritized over my fears of the asphalt. As we entered the shop, we met a relative of ours, a very witty old man. Accompanying him, was a beast, thick brown and black coat, sharp ears and eyes blazing with authority. Even though now, the 21 year old me would go running to give the Alsatian a hug, the small boy who stood in front of the elegant creature experienced only the feeling of fear. I held my grandfather’s hand firmly, believing I would take off along with him the first chance I get. The next thing that happened was nothing short of spectacular; as we bid farewell, the old man got into his car, and spoke to his dog like he was a small child. “Get into the car Shera!”. You could say the same thing to a child, Maybe he would listen; probably he wouldn’t. But I realized this dog was no child, it was a soldier. He got into the car, not hesitating, paying no attention to the small boy who was gaping at him in amazement.

Fast forward a few years, I was studying in a new school. Made new friends, experiencing new culture. A lot had changed; Yet I was still unsure about dogs. I was still intimidated. I can still vividly remember being chased around by strays, deafened by the screams of my younger friends who were on the run along with me. My dad used to tell me that it is only humans, and not animals that hurt you when even when you don’t hurt them. It seemed a little far fetched for a kid to actually believe that, as we often plotted to show the dogs who’s alpha. We were keeping a lookout for one particular dog. One with a chestnut brown colored coat. The one which would chase us away growling, if we were ever present in vicinity. After many days of being chased, we finally grew tired of it. We decided to go on the offensive, as we packed our soft bullet air guns as we approached the dog when it was sleeping. As we moved in closer, the dog saw us coming and suddenly raised it’s head gazing at us. Our hearts skipped a beat as we prepared to resort to running away. The dog looked at us for a few seconds, and went back to sleep. I don’t know what did the trick, whether if the smell of fear was masked by that of false courage, or just because it felt we meant no harm, after all. We took another look at the dog, all of our faces which carried a grimace slowly turned into smiles as we saw tiny puppies lying next to the dog. We went back home. We never forgot about the event. We finally came to the conclusion that the dog was aggressive because it was carrying it’s puppies and felt that any external interference would put their lives in danger. The sense of protection and care are forever embedded in a mother’s heart; may it be human, a dog or any other living being. Maybe my father was right. They don’t attack with no reason. I felt like I understood these amazing beings better. How they think and how they feel.

I had a friend who used to help me out with math. I used to go to his house on weekends. He too happened to have a cute little dog, a dachshund. A very playful and pleasant dog. It used to play around, used to climb on my legs. It was however not a big fan of goodbyes. One of the days my mom came over to take me home, as I was saying goodbye, the dog climbed over me and was playfully looking at me; asking me to stay. My friend pulled her leash to make her let go of me. She still tried to hold on, when she couldn’t use her paws she decided to bite onto the end of my pants which eventually tore in half. I ran crying to my mother. A rather funny sight. It looked like I was wearing a poorly tailored shorts one side longer than the other, with me holding the lower half of the pants in my hands crying. It took me a while to understand why this happened. Maybe fear was still there, but my fascination for dogs grew a little more, day after day.

Time flies. Years passed. I was living in an apartment; and by apartment I refer to someplace where only people are supposed to live. NO PETS. I didn’t realize this was just something they were expected to say and didn’t intend, and I was left in dismay as the officials told me this the moment I stepped into my new home. I made peace with the fact that there was no way I could have a dog in this space, and even if I could keep one, there’s no way everyone at home would support this, as they had a rather realistic view on the difficulties of keeping a pet in an apartment. I still wrestled with the idea of getting a dog into the house. At that point in time I was completely alien to the idea of adopting a puppy; throughout my life I’ve met owners who bought a puppy from someone else who owned a dog. I wanted a dog for myself real bad. The situation only got further serious when I met the cute small puppy one of my close friends had got for himself. I was extremely thrilled, I loved playing with the puppy. And this time, it was not the dog, but me who had trouble saying goodbye and letting go. He had bought the dog from someone who knew about puppies, so I decided that I’d take the same road, and get one for myself. If my dad wasn’t going to fund, I was going to generate the funds by myself. I decide to work during the summer on an internship which paid me enough to get a Golden Retriever. A breed I absolutely adored. The playful, loyal, happy, elegant looking dogs.

With a little help from my grandma, my sister and my friends, I was finally able to put together enough to get the puppy. Everything was set in place, and the puppy was in transit to my home. I was jumping with joy. It was almost like how you fall in love with someone, and you imagine all series of events in life you experience with them; I could see the puppy growing up into a majestic dog in my head. But unfortunately, I couldn’t meet my little one right away, as my internship was still on, and I was expected to complete the assigned duration of 2 months. The few days I had to go work, I believe taught me the true pain of separation. I have to owe it to the fact that I have so many wonderful friends; another close friend of mine decided to help me out and let the puppy stay with him and his own dog when I was away. He used to send me pictures of her everyday, and I was pretty much guilty of spending a lot of time looking at how cute she looked with all the golden fur; when I actually should’ve been working. We didn’t come up with a name for her initially. I was on a hunt for names, and we finally decided to stick with Zoey.

As soon as I received the permission to complete the internship and return home, I pounced at the opportunity and went to my friend’s house to meet the puppy. I cannot possibly put the feeling of meeting Zoey for the first time in words; but if you ever see me smiling out of the blue it is probably me remembering about the time we met. I took her home in my car, she was moving around restlessly at the back, as it was her first time travelling in car. My parents weren’t around at the time, so we both had the whole house to ourselves. Sometimes it was raining outside and sometimes I was too lazy, so I spent a lot of time cleaning up after the mess she makes. But i still cherish the moments when she used to give me a guilty smile after I had to clean up. The nights were the hardest. I used to tie her to the door on the way to my room. The bed used to have a tall cover beside the headrest, and when I finally decided to go to sleep; I closed my eyes for a few seconds I could hear a small cry for help. That’s when I woke up to see Zoey looking at me. She stood silent for a while looking at me. I went back to sleep and she started crying again. I realized that she was afraid I was going away every time I lied down, because she couldn’t see my when I went to sleep. I felt like a dad with a cranky baby, as I got up, went to her, petted her and reassured her that I was still there. The adjusting period was not simple. But we got through it together.

Soon my parents were back home. They couldn’t stay mad at me for bringing a dog home after looking at her. They too fell in love with her as we all agreed on welcoming her to our family. Days went by so quickly, she grew bigger each day. My mom and dad spending more time with her as I had to soon return to college. Amidst all the fun, the cleaning up was getting harder, with the dog getting bigger and shedding fur. But we were so much in love with her, there is no way we could let the work behind cleaning or caring for her be an obstacle.

I thought this would work. I believed it would sustain forever. Months passed. We soon learned that due to medical complications, my sister had to deliver a baby prematurely, which meant that the baby was more vulnerable to infections and diseases than others. A new born baby in the family! An event that should normally bring us joy was now mixed with our feelings of anxiety for the wellness of my sister and the baby. After weeks of fear and anxiety, a baby girl was born. A tiny person wrapped in multiple layers of cotton sheets. I felt the bad times had passed; that the days to come will be filled with more happiness. Yet it didn’t stop there. When I kept my faith in a better future, that’s when the doctor advised that we move Zoey away because it’s fur could compromise the health of the newborn baby.

I found it impossible to accept the fact that I had to part ways with my little one. In fact, it was the same with everyone who saw her grow up. Everyone at home were crestfallen when they realized Zoey couldn’t stay with us anymore. I tried to argue my cause; but I lost the battle between something I loved more than myself, something I’d watched grow up against the sensitivities of human sentiments. I decided to give her away. My dad told me about his friend who wanted to get a dog, so we decided to let Zoey stay with him. I saw the thin line of hope of bringing her back home once the situation had passed.

It was a rather terrible moment when everyone at home had to say goodbye to Zoey. We got her into the car, as we drove towards the place which was to be her new home. I was crying profusely, my dad had his hands on the wheel, and a rather stern look; but I could see him holding back what he actually felt. When I met the people who would be taking care of her, I felt confident in their commitment for Zoey and her care. I left her in the house, and I rushed back into the car as I tried my best to not come off looking weak and helpless. I stayed in the car, silent and stuck in a trance of shock and despair.

But it is what they say; Time heals everything. I was soon used to opening the front door not being welcomed happily by a cute ball of fur. I found myself with a lot of free time as I was relieved from the duties of walking and playing with my little puppy.

I visit her whenever I get a chance. Maybe we don’t stay together and meet everyday, but we know how much we care for each other. It is not to say I miss her any less. Everyday when I eat at the table, I remember her looking at me yearning for a bite of whatever I was eating. When I bite into an apple I remember her appearing out of nowhere because she really did love apples. When the vacuum cleaner is turned on, I remember her running away scared of the noise and hide herself under the couch with her tail outside.

But when I meet her today, I don’t find a myself in a situation where I ask myself if I need to bring her back home. I know she has a family who cares a lot for her, I know she has a big house with a lot of space to run and play. I believe she is happier here than she could be anywhere else. And I feel a whole lot better knowing that she is happy and well.

Because I think maybe I did love her enough to let her go.

Dogs are wonderful creatures gifted with the ability to love and care. Stray or domestic, it is important we treat them with affection and care and learn to respect their existence. Let us stand for our furry friends, and fight against their ill-treatment and abuse.

Out in the Rain.

The bright sun throwing the mighty rays of sunshine in all directions, sky blue filled with effervescent clouds floating away like fluffs of cotton. Birds chirp filling the air, white noise that blends in with the song of the gentle whistling breeze.Grass dry and warm caressed by sunshine. The brick red earth. A mere frame in a point of time. A defined moment in a series of events that follows. The moment lasts not long, as the transition rushes in; bringing in an absolute change in the nature of everything. The bright sun consumed by the dark clouds, with the merry fluffs of cotton rushing back home seeking sanctuary just like the birds, back into their cozy nests, protected by the leaves of the tree; their entitled protector.

The living seeking shelter, darkness spreading marking the arrival of a storm; Like how a king announces his arrival, the storm often accompanied by the forces of lightening and thunder. From light drizzles to thunderstorms that dazzles the feeling of peace; it would still be terribly unjustified to call rain an embodiment of fear. It would be fair however to maybe consider it equivalent to the transition of human emotions. Drizzles accompanied with sunlight just enough to produce a rainbow painted with happy colors, heavy rain synonymous with the release of overwhelming grief and thunderstorms, that carry the same magnitude of intimidation as that of rage and anger.

Rain is as much as an expression of emotion as it is a representation of balance and change. To put it quite simply, every drop of water that evaporates to vapor and disappears into thin air like salt in water experiences the freedom of adventure. Every drop restrained by it’s state, restricted movement determined by it’s surroundings, now suddenly achieving a state of absolute bliss, now unchained moving freely in the atmosphere like school children in a playground; appreciating the feeling of freedom over collective belonging like a bird who wishes to fly rather than live it’s life with another in a golden cage.

Yet the drops do not have the privilege to be free forever, they have to end their journey, where the destination also happens to be the very point they started their voyage towards change. Every drop of water is the reflection of a living soul. They start their journey alone, they make family, and then when the time comes, they breathe in the life sustaining element of oxygen for the last time, breathing out their demons of grief, regrets and responsibilities, before they take a whiff of freedom. The change is inevitable. As they say, change is the rule of nature. Yet we grieve death, we cry over loss of our loved ones. We cry because we lose things we held close to our heart. But do we shed tears looking at ice turn into water? We accept this change but falter when we need to embrace the reality in dire circumstances.

But the power of expression is incomparable; it seems a necessity to express and pave way for a shower rather than hold it in and let it undergo metamorphosis into a full fledged volcano. But crying over loss for an indefinite period of time is not any good. Imagine continuous rainfall, without a pause, like a daily marathon. Destruction of crops, flooding and all other kinds of damage to the living. Now we learn to connect rain with overwhelming grief, mixture of emotions and darkness. Rain is a teenager inflicted by mood swings. And yes, there is a prospect for joy and happiness.

The sun is covered by dark clouds, accompanied by an eerie sky tinged with darkness and a cold breeze. Some drops find their way out of the clouds, and then it’s an uproar, water pouring down onto the earth. A small girl looks out of her window. The best part of the year has only presented her with scorching heat and dry weather. When she sees rain, her heart is brimming with happiness, just like the small clay pots in the garden overflowing with rain water; and all the flowers seem to be smiling at her, vibrant and full of color. The grass looks greener with drops of water washing away it’s dullness. The brick red earth has turned chocolate brown, comes alive as it generates a fragrance of it’s own. The little girl rushes out into the rain, trying to grab the falling drops from the air.

The rain eventually ceases, sunshine slowly returning. Drops of water on leaves and grasses appear like pearls, a rainbow decides to pay a visit, filling everyone with a sense of joy and wonder.

The concept of balance is rather wonderful. Everything in nature life and death, night and day, heat and the cold; co-existence is a lesson we learn from everything we see around us and every event we experience or go through. The most ideal application of co-existence would be the one between our thinking and that of the phenomenon of change. Because when we truly learn to accept change, we grow. Just like how a tiny caterpillar takes it’s first step to form a cocoon before it turns into an elegant butterfly.

Change can be your nemesis for a second and your savior during another. Let us not fight change, but embrace it.

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The Divine Reversal.

We are gifted with the ability to dream. Dreams are the product of our thoughts hidden deep inside, within the crypts of our subconsciousness. When we dream, there could be a moment when we know we are in control, when we feel we have the absolute power to twist the story that is unfolding in front of us, when we are in a state of realization. We try to bend the situation as we like, so that we can eventually get what we yearned in the first place. We love to play God. Through dreams and thoughts we wish we had the power to mold reality, to have control over time; As the need to play God is driven by the need for change. May it be the past or the future.

We have all experienced the sudden jolts of memories of things we regret doing, which comes rushing to our minds like how the thunder lights up the whole sky for an instant, accompanied by the loud roar of regret which sinks in moments later. Oh how we wish we could go back in time and change it. Sometimes what we regret is not what we could have done, but what could be if we had tried to stop ourselves from doing it. We hurt others through actions and words, mostly without asking ourselves how it would provide us with redemption from whatever that caused it. Sometimes we hurt with the intention to. A type of forced empathy in one way; we believe the person needs to feel the pain as you do, so that they realize the magnitude of their actions. After all, anger is a derived emotion, it is born from pain.

Now, before you start to believe that things cannot be changed because they were meant to happen; that’s when the thoughts of what you could have done, or what you could have done differently that will infest your head like a poltergeist. From what we deem as small things, like offering help to someone in need; to what we infer as empathy when we show the willingness to sacrifice our own comforts to make someone else’s life better. We all have memories to look back in life, when we wish we could have shown the power to initiate; as initiation requires the strongest will. Before you actually help someone, you must find it in your heart to evaluate the purpose of helping the one in need.

Unfortunately, time travel is not real. Even if all the movies and books we read tell us otherwise. We all have regrets. Regrets are hardwired into human thinking. Other species of predators, when they chase their prey and fail, they move on to the next one. There is no room for regrets, because ego seems to hardly be a problem when compared to hunger and sustenance. We often let our decisions be adulterated by feelings.

So since there is no time machine. Can you really escape this labyrinth of regrets from overwhelming you, not letting you sleep or let you deviate your mind into happier, more pleasant thoughts?. We might need to consider the fact that it is not in fact the situation, but the thought regarding it that bothers us more. So how do we silence the loud echoes of regrets?

We often use the word karma in context. But do we really embrace the true meaning of the word? Not really. As simple as it is, all we need to know about it is ‘What we do is what we get’. As we often use the phrase ‘settling the score’. Maybe even God himself has a way of settling the score. Every action that we involve in, we are judged, we are evaluated. It’s not without reason ‘life is a test’ came into fruition.

Passing this test means that we make peace with the good and bad that we have participated in throughout our life. We must learn to embrace the regrets we have in life, at the same time we must do all the good that we believe is possible for us, and could make a small or a significant change in someone’s life. I have always claimed that helping others could make me a very kind and helpful person in the third person’s eyes but as someone who respects and embraces the idea of karma, helping others is in fact a rather selfish act. For all the things we do, what we do when we believe no one is looking, what we do when we want to hurt, when we are hurt ourselves and is blinded by the feeling of anger and pain; We need to assure ourselves that we are not bad, in fact not as bad as our actions suggest at times. Hence a helpful act we believe neutralizes the bad we have committed with or without our knowledge, because the willingness to live and move forward comes from you telling yourself that as a person you have improved, when compared to yesterday.

We are humans. We make mistakes. We do things which could negatively affect another being or negatively influence a situation. We do not yet have a escape route in the form of time travel. But it is time for vindication. Small actions of care and empathy, sacrifice your seat for someone older struggling to find balance, get a cup of warm water for your friend who is sick. And most importantly, do not underestimate the value of a true smile. It is yet another human tendency to expect something in return for whatever they do. We have become computers when we expect an output for every inputs we give. We expect a reward, may it be material or ‘exclusive feelings’. If a warm smile is the output you receive for your small act of kindness and care, keep it close to your heart and choose to remember it whenever you feel the need for it.

Let’s live better so that we keep the scores even.

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Bridges.

Humans. Beings known to display the most complex level of socializing and the highest degree of co-existence in a community. Exceptions not considered, all of us want to experience the feeling of belonging. We all try to mold ourselves into someone who can fit into the society so that we can be satisfied through acceptance. We want people around us, our family, friends, and everyone who we believe makes our life better. Every being we interact with, we build a relationship. A stranger is not a stranger anymore. An acquaintance to our best friends, we build relationships other than the ones we acquire when we are born.

The relationship defined like bridges. There are elements of trust, love and care that hold up the bridges. The exchange of feelings keep the bridge alive. Strong firm bridges built with trust over the years; the bridges built between two people where there could be equal expression of love from both the ends, or could exist a case of a one sided lover, when the overwhelming flow of feelings flowing from one end to the other only to hit a brick wall oblivious, or pretending to be. We build bridges with everyone we meet. The path made through the nature of the conversation, and sacrifices form a blue cloudy sky above and the water under the bridge.

So is it time, level of trust or sincere communication of feelings that determine a relationship stronghold. While these may be the building blocks of a relationship; the one which holds the bridge up; one which stops the bridge from burning down to ashes. The water under the bridge and the blue skies above; sacrifices; sacrifices determine how a relationship can turn out. Sacrificing habits, sacrificing things, sacrificing other relationships, sacrificing your own ego. Yet like everything else in this world, the importance of balance in relationships also cannot be overlooked.

Almost all the time we build a relationship, we are prepared to ask ourselves what we are ready to give for the relationship to sustain and stay alive. We seldom ask ourselves what we need to give up. What we are ready to give up; how important it maybe to us, better defines our commitment to a relationship than what we are ready to give. And commitment is assurance which leads to development of trust and hence strengthening of the relation. While our sacrifices seem to be a small price to pay for a good relationship, we must always have our eyes open to the dangers of exploitation and betrayal.

As much as we need to appreciate the importance of maintaining relationships in our life, it is also equally important that we realize that sometimes, it is possible that no matter the amount of time we have put into it, no matter how much trust the pillars holding up the bridges of relationships are imbued with, no matter how strong our feelings are smothering us to try and yet try again to hold onto a person, to not let go; we need to burn the bridges. Let it be your best friend, or someone who you believed you loved more than yourself; but if the path is tainted by the skies and waters of sacrifices, storm brewing up with tension and stress and what we speak and what we think is more about what we gave up for each other; that’s when the pillars collapse and the bridge goes crumbling down.

If we believe we have committed a mistake which could jeopardize the relationship, it is important that we try our best and put in all our efforts to set it right. If there is a misunderstanding it is the equal responsibilities for both people to stand up and fight for the relationship to sustain like it did before. After all there is no perfect relation where everything goes exactly according to plan, but it is in fact the highs and lows which gives everyone the opportunity to make their choice of response which reflects on their commitment to the cause.

Before we build bridges with anyone else in this world, we already have one within us, the one we have built with our own conscience. As toddlers, our thinking has no bounds and our innocence giving our conscience a life of it’s own, we speak and laugh to ourselves finding reasons to stay happy with a healthy relationship with our conscience, ourselves; yet as adults we find reasons to stay unhappy, often not being able to fit in self communication into our busy schedule of life. Skies of emotions and feelings and running waters of sacrifices we make for others, around the golden bridge we have built to our own conscience and developed over the years.

Let your relationship with others not define the bridge you travel to connect with yourself, let it not induce feelings of self doubt or hatred. If you find yourself to be the only one sacrificing everything you hold close to yourself and your personality, if you find yourself full of feelings for someone who feels nothing for you, if you feel you could trust someone with your life while they do not value it, maybe after all some bridges need to be sacrificed to sustain the one within yourself.

“The only thing you need to hold onto in life, is each other.”

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Lust for Exploration.

New experiences. New sights. A feeling, an emotion never experienced before. Something you felt you could never ever do, but you build up the courage and do it anyway; and it gifts you with an ever lasting memory. The beginning of the day symbolizes the beginning of a fresh page in your book of life.

When we often get lost in our own thoughts, we wonder what we live for. What is that we want to do before we leave the world for a better place. Whenever I’ve found myself asking this question, my conscience always whispered into my ears : “Explore!”. Like many people, I have a love for travelling, and I believe it is one of strongest desires to travel around the world and visit all kinds of places on our planet.

To lead a vagabond life; to wake up in a different city or maybe even a different country everyday. Meet new people, make friends, learn their language, live their culture. The joys of travelling are not restricted to enjoying the sights and scenes, but it helps you grow as a person. It provides you with multiple perspectives. I truly believe a person matures when he/she learns to adapt by cultivating a willingness to gather perspectives. Everything we do, Everything we look at, we decipher it the way we taught ourselves to. Perspective is very well in a symbiotic relationship with the qualities of empathy, and a positive mindset to appreciate every thing and scenario in our daily lives.

Travelling by yourself, through experience I would say is an experience that would toughen you, makes you wiser and adamant; every point you look eye to eye with a situation you never thought you would have to handle all by yourself. Nobody around you to help you out of the sticky situation but yourself. You are at the wheel, you decide where you make the turns, you decide when you need to stop. The power of decision rests only in your hands and how responsibly you make the decisions and what you learn from the decisions that you made makes you who you are.

Yet this dream of ours is hindered by the fact that most of have an embargo on freedom in our lives. We are bound by the restrictions of our duties. Expectations, financial security, family everything in our life seems to have a higher priority in our lives. Sadly enough, many people who would love to have explored the whole world lives to only struggle every day of their lives to ensure that they have fulfilled their duties; because they valued their duties above self satisfaction.

We could struggle our entire lives yet end it with a regret; of not investing enough time on ourselves. Not spending enough time on the road exploring. As important our duties are, sometimes we need to find the motivation withing ourselves to say : “Stop, that’s enough. I need some time for myself”.

Exploration helps you build the best version of yourself, someone who is wiser, experienced and mature. A person who could make life a whole lot better for himself and the people around him. So now is the time!

Yes you could be surrounded with people who tell you no, your responsibilities. Grab a pen and make a list! There are places we need to visit for there are night skies we haven’t yet seen, waters we haven’t sailed on, mountains we haven’t climbed, cultures we haven’t experienced.

Like someone said


“It’s better to see something once than hear about it a thousand times” .

Image courtesy: freepik. Bankete.