The Cosmic Scribbles

Self-love is not about loving your best self. It is very little about loving yourself at your ideal weight, with a fulfilling job, a beautifully curated life and a happy relationship. It is more about loving the parts of you that you have been running away from. The parts of you that you hide, the corners that are too dark to peep into. Its about the day you failed in school, or when a teacher humiliated you in front of your batch, its the trauma of an abusive childhood, or the hurt of giving up your true passion, its about the day you found out you were being cheated on, or the days you cried because of bullies, its your first unrequited love or the day you lost a loved one to death. It’s about digging deep and finding these parts, the parts that if ignored become such a deeply rooted wound that corrodes us from within. It’s about facing them, accepting them, embracing them and loving them. It’s about setting high standards of yourself and holding yourself accountable first. Our id...

In the 25 years of existence, we’ve been a lot of people. We’ve been an under-confident kid in school, and we’ve been the popular girl in college. Sometimes we’ve been the shy girl who sits alone for lunch, and we’ve been the life of the party. We’ve spent months in isolation after a break up, and then we’ve spent 6 months of non-stop travel. We’ve been students, and we’ve been mentors. We’ve been fit and we’ve been unhealthy. We’ve been happy and we’ve been sad. We’ve been a part of communities and we’ve also been lonely. We’ve been careless and we’ve been responsible. Boring and we’ve been entertaining. We’ve rested, we’ve laughed, we’ve loved, we’ve lost, we’ve grieved, we’ve moved on. We’ve seen ups and downs and lefts and rights and somehow managed to power through this topsy turvy journey of life. It’s impossible to encapsulate the versions of us we’ve put into the world in the limited life we’ve lived. But it’s heartening to look back, isn’t it? It’s easy to be proud of the prog...

  ‘Life is the sum of the stories you can tell.’ I have truly believed and embodied this as a life goal: to be a storyteller, an explorer, a curious mind, and a wandering soul. To fulfill this, I have chased experiences, made 100s of friends, travelled to numerous places, seen endless documentaries, read 1000s of books and spent a quarter of my life trying to hear, see, observe, and know stories that make this world as unique as it is. While this rollercoaster has been truly exciting and has elevated my life, there was one little story that I missed discovering. This story is more important than any I have ever known. This story is one I live with every day. The story I sleep to and the one I wake up with. The story that I seek in discomfort and the story that makes me smile when I’m upset. The story that is being written for the past 26 years, within me, within my mind, my body, and my heart. The story of my life, my habits, my beliefs, my fears, my triggers, my insecurities, ...

If we get a chance to go back to the night we met, would you want to do it all over again? Because I think I would. I would hold your hand a little longer. I would let the alarm ring while you were wrapped around my arms. I would stare a whole lot more while you sang. I would steal a few more comforting glances and smiles. I would stay on the call a whole lot longer. I wouldn’t let sleep or time or circumstances spoil a beautiful moment. I would hold my tongue when I was angry, and I would love you a little harder even when I hated you. I would have asked for more sunrises, sunsets and long drives. I would have heard all the playlists you made and let you read all the letters I wrote you but never sent. I would take the whole wide world and move it to spend a day with you. Would you do the same if you met me for the first time again? Or would you rather turn away and leave?

I wouldn’t have been able to get through this past year without books. The fictional world was my escape every time my mind took me to a dark place. They kept me company on nights that sleep evaded me, and on days where I couldn’t stand the thought of interacting with another human. Some nights they helped me settle into peaceful sleep, and on some days book characters kept me going with the enormity of their stories. They were my companion on long solo travels and flights where I was scared to be alone. Every time I was overwhelmed by sadness, these stories reminded me that grief is a universal phenomenon, and I will get through it. I found solace in the heartbreak stories, I found joy in the love stories, and I found hope in the survivor stories. Books found me words when I was unable to comprehend my feelings, and they were an outlet for my emotions. They made me laugh, they made me cry, they made me smile, and mostly they filled me with utmost comfort. When I was struggling to find...

 I’ve always struggled with calling myself an artist. I associate artists with those who can display and package their art aesthetically. Art that is widely recognized. And widely appreciated. Art that can be displayed, or sung, or drawn, or seen. Art that is consumed or followed. Something that is to be indulged in every waking moment. How can we really define art and categorize an artist? Is an artist a personality or an attitude? Is it someone who pursues it every moment of their existence or someone who's naturally gifted with it but accesses it infrequently? But isn’t life art? The beauty of seasons, the transience of emotions, the realness of aging, the hues of the sky, the background music of cities, the effervescence of time, the vastness of love. The world is a whole amalgamation of art. And by default, doesn’t that make us all artists? The way we talk, the way we walk, how we communicate without words, how we express through touch, how we design our lives, the uniquene...

There’s this girl I know. I think she’s very cool. She’s been through a lot. But somehow, she always finds a way to bounce back. She finds a way to smile through her losses. She’s been hurt and broken, but it hasn’t made her bitter. In fact, it’s made her a better person. It’s made her soft, and thoughtful, and empathetic, and kind. She loves herself on the good days and she loves herself harder on the bad days. She offers warm hugs and is an iron clad shoulder to those she loves. She cares deeply. She doesn’t curse her fate; she accepts that life cannot always be perfect. She tries to derive meaning from her pain. She works hard. God, she works so hard. She charges at every day with a will to change the world. She’s reliable, and gets the job done. She is a lifelong learner, and somehow finds the time to gulp down books, take up courses, keep herself updated and constantly keep striving. She coaches as passionately as she learns. She smiles at strangers and will always ask you how y...

 Can we talk a little more about the debilitating fear of being in your mid to late 20s? About living in the constant fear of failing in the peak years of our life. The feeling of being left behind as our friends find their dream jobs and life partners. The fake optimism of changing our life by changing cities and countries and jobs. The constant self-doubt that lingers on our mind as often as our heart beats. The impending doom that surrounds us as we force ourselves to sleep. The fear of never being loved again. The wrecking feeling of never making our parents proud. The discomfort of never fitting in any mold that society has defined. The anxiety of missing out on the life we see people living on Instagram. The nagging imposter syndrome that stops us from celebrating our wins. The loneliness of feeling like you’re the only one struggling. The incapacity of expressing the darkness that plagues our thoughts. The envy hidden behind wide smiles when we see our peers succeeding. ...

 We’ve been living in a world designed for men for far too long, and its high time we show how the world looks like from our eyes. Next time someone belittles you for not being ambitious, tell them about how most women are raised to be good wives, and how we have failed as a society to provide gender neutral education. Next time someone humiliates you for not being financially independent, remind them about how parents and partners encourage women to ‘stay at home because their family needs them.’ Next time someone says that women are not reliable at work, educate them on the unfair split of domestic work in households and how women bear the load of taking care of young children and aging parents. Next time someone claims that women are weak at STEM, remind them how women were pushed towards the arts at school and work because ‘women are not smart enough for math and science’. Next time someone calls women bad drivers, make them aware about how such ancient and unproven stereo...

I keep talking to you in my mind. Things I wish I should have said earlier. Things I realize now and want to share with you. Places that remind me of you. Days that take me back to the memories with you. Moments that feel incomplete without your presence. I have so much to tell you, so many unexpressed emotions and feelings. I put them into words only to realize that you’re not here anymore. My words are only in my mind, and they drill a hole inside my heart. How long can I keep talking to myself hoping that someday this telepathy reaches you and you finally get to hear the words that you have been longing for. How long until I realize that these words will never be said aloud, and they will die and wither away like the rest of me. How long until my heart stops talking to me and it’s too late to resuscitate.

 A day off, where I wake up under my comfortable blanket, I open the window, take in the morning wind, and water my plants. I play my favorite music and spend some time in comfortable silence. Shutting my laptop towards the end of the workday, having ticked off my to-do list, being pleased with the amount of work I could accomplish, and feeling hopeful about the direction of my career. Driving to the airport for a flight, standing in the queues of check in and security, anticipation running on my mind about the new adventures in store for me. Gazing at the incomprehensible sky through the window of the aircraft, imagining the endless possibilities that the world has to offer. Watching the waves hit the shore, and dance away so effortlessly. Spending a moment to recognize how irrelevant we are the massive world, and how our problems are big and inconsequential at the same time. Finding the perfect feel-good song, which generates hope within hopelessness and a happy tear in...

 Can we encapsulate a life of 25 years, dreams worth 50 years and memories worth a lifetime into 200 words to describe my personality? Not sure but let me try. I am a multitude of paradoxes. I am a voracious dreamer who yet at times finds herself subscribing to society’s expectations of success. I am violently ambitious, but I allow the insecurities in my head get the better of me. I am deeply loving and caring, but I will not fight for a person wanting to leave my life. I am talkative, but I am quiet. I am an extrovert but being in bed is my safe space. I will dance all night to the grooviest of songs, but my playlist is a collection of sad girl music. I am the happiest, but I am also the saddest. I want to live unabashedly, but my people pleasing needs overpower my will to pursue my life. I am beautiful, and I am cruel. I am warm as the sun, and I am cold as ice. I am naïve and I am vicious. I can be your bravest ally and I can be your worst enemy. I preach morality but my ethi...

We need to speak about how your twenties are the time to prioritize your happiness and be unabashedly selfish. How it is the time to pursue every dream you have dreamed and tick things off of your bucket list. This is the time to make memories that will make you smile and fill your heart with gratitude years and years later. We will never be this young again. Before we know it, we will be paying EMIs on home loans, planning annual holidays based on school calendars, struggling with aching bones and reminiscing about our youth. Your bank account will replenish itself and your manager will be unhappy with you anyway. You have the rest of your life to fill up your savings with money you will never use. Time is the only true currency, and you can never get it back. So book that ticket, kiss that stranger, get those passport stamps, trek unconquerable peaks, take that diving course, spend a night stargazing, paraglide off a hill, watch more sunrises and sunsets. Take your life and make it...