Inkblot

I almost forgot it was Wednesday today, even after anticipating writing on this day for the whole of last week. Fortunately, I realised it now, and I don't have to regret it tomorrow. Waiting for something for so long and then forgetting it on the exact day isn't new to me. My weird brain does this often. I've even forgotten close ones' birthdays and anniversaries sometimes. I don't know if my puppy-face "sorry" cools them down, but clearly, I should train my brain better. Never mind. Last Sunday, I had a topic in mind to share here, something I was genuinely excited about. And then… I forgot it. Not even a small effort was made to recall it. I am honestly fed up with my bizarre memory. It works like a lazy librarian who misplaces the most important books and then shrugs like, "Not my problem." Last week, despite having a heap of work, I doom-scrolled. Endlessly. Mindlessly. And I realised something I didn't quite like admitting to myself, I ...

How do I start? The last few days felt like a roller coaster of emotions. Not the fun amusement park one, but the kind where you scream a little and laugh a little and question your life choices somewhere in the middle. I felt like writing every single day in the past week. Extreme emotions have a strange side effect: they push you toward a pen. Or a keyboard. Or at least toward opening a notes app and staring at the blinking cursor like it owes you an explanation. It felt like the perfect time to resume writing a daily diary. I am a little insecure about using the word resume here. I should probably say I could have started again . Because truthfully, I have always failed at keeping up this habit. Every year on the 1st of January, I take up a brand-new diary with dramatic determination. The first page always smells like discipline and new beginnings. This year I didn’t even manage that on January 1st. But in the past, when I did start, I would last for a month or two. After that, the...

I miss Ankola very much now. If you don't know, Ankola is a small town in Karnataka where I lived for seventeen long years. Seventeen years feels like a lifetime when I count it in school bags, friendship bands, and evening walks. I finished my entire schooling in a single institute, and I had (and still have) friends there. The kind of friends who know your house, your favorite bench, and your nature. I miss watching Holi. I miss the high school quarters we stayed in, with their familiar sit outs and predictable noises. I miss my childhood friends, whose laughter still echoes in some corner of my memory like an old ringtone you never delete. Watching Suggi was a delight back then. I absolutely love the culture of Suggi and the story behind it. Suggi is a regional folk dance art form, and is performed during the harvest and Holi season, mostly by the Halakki Vokkaliga and many other communities who follow and continue the tradition with utmost respect. The dancers dress in color...

You know that moment when someone casually asks, "Who are you?" or "Where do you belong?" and your brain suddenly forgets all its vocabulary? You stand there smiling, buying time with an "errr…" or "ahhh…," as if your identity is loading on slow internet. It sounds like a very simple question, yet answering it feels like a spider crawling on your skin. At least, it does for me. To begin with, I hate the idea of introducing oneself. Back in college, when seniors asked for introductions again and again and again, I felt like punching their faces. Though I am proud of where I come from and who I am, I don't enjoy explaining myself in neat little sentences. If you ask me, people should be known slowly through time, and with casual conversations rather than through a fixed set of questions that feel like forms waiting to be filled. I often prepare answers in my head when someone asks me, "Who are you?" On the surface, it sounds simple. B...

I have the exact same feeling as a teenager who didn't show up to college for months and is embarrassed to go back. It's difficult to search for a greeting while appearing again, and that’s why and how I started with a shy line instead of a loud Hello!! It has been more than two months since I wrote for my blog. That doesn't mean I was writing something else. I had just sat back. During the course of these two months, I completed a semester exam and I have a ring shining bright on my left hand. Two months isn't a big disappearance, but it feels so because I went through so much and that makes it feel like a year altogether. When life overwhelms you, you forget your life for a while. That "while" took me two months. Fair enough! Many times, I had a very strong urge to write and I did come here and type something. But they were all left unfinished, and I didn't want to continue them when I came back. At the present, those drafts didn't make sense to me ...

How's life? I'm sorry if this made you think for a while. Alright! December alreadyyy and 2025 is going to be in the chapters of history soon! If I look back, I feel 2025 was very long for me. I vaguely remember what I did all year. All I can recall is that I cried so much this year. (You'll know why, either here or in my next blogs.) The reasons feel silly now, but back then they were massive mountains to climb. And this year, again, I haven’t fulfilled my resolutions. Every December, I feel all my resolutions were silly anyway. And of course, this time I didn’t wait for the 31st to peel off the list. Ironically, my 2025 resolutions are already in the trash can. I think I slipped into lowkey philosophy toward the end of 2024, and it shows in my 2025 resolution list. I had 21 goals, out of which 14 made absolutely no sense for a twenty-four-year-old girl. Someone could easily (mis)understand that the list belonged to a sixty-five-year-old retired lady. Even though I wrote t...

Hello there! I missed writing in the past few days. And since I haven’t been reading anything either, writing now feels like giving a presentation without any preparation. A late realization: books were extracting my writing juices! A bizarre feeling to experience though. Lately, I’ve realized that my eyes are unknowingly filtering what they encounter amidst the chaos. I am seeing everything blue. Actually, let me correct that  "Something in Blue" is what my eyes are focusing on. You’ll know more about this in a bit. This isn’t a new trait. Ever since I can remember, I’ve filtered out the things I wanted to see. As a kid, I would get scolded for this habit, misunderstood as “absent-mindedness” by others. But observing everything all at once feels exhausting. Why should a poor three-pound-brain remember witless, unnecessary details? There was this viral reel once — a guy would walk up to people and ask them to check the time on their phone. And then he’d ask, “What’s your bat...

I don’t read self-help books. Well, I don’t read anything other than fiction. Not even biographies or autobiographies. I haven’t read the famous  ' Wings of Fire' , ' The Story of My Experiments with Truth' , or ' Playing It My Way' . But I did read Anne Frank’s ' The Diary of a Young Girl' when I was in my teens. Though I don’t remember it clearly now, I loved reading her diary! Now, you can probably guess my reading choices. In the past few years, I’ve even bought some self-help books that were highly recommended, but I haven’t opened a single one till now. And to be honest, I’m planning to give them away to someone who’s a true self-help enthusiast. Why don’t I read them? As a kid or teenager, my reason would’ve been that they lack lead characters, emotions, sky descriptions, or mood changes. I still feel that way, but now I also have a valid reason: they make me depressed . I don’t even know how to read them! I can’t enthusiastically devour them, n...

Last night, I suddenly woke up to the thought, “Oh! I did forget that to-do yesterday.” I checked the time, 2:38 a.m. Neither could I squeeze back inside my blanket, nor did I have the energy to get up. My brain, however, decided to wake up. In no time, I was in front of my computer screen. The work that had caused this midnight guilt trip was done in less than twenty minutes. And then, I didn’t know what to do. So, I watched out my window. It was drizzling—soft, slow, and so soothing to watch. I studied for a while but ended up in daydreams (or maybe night dreams?). I even felt hungry but was too calorie-conscious to gobble anything. I finally dozed off around 4-ish, feeling mildly proud and mostly pitying myself for ruining my sleep cycle… again. It felt oddly satisfying to be the only one awake in the house. The night was quiet, calm, and slightly chilly. The drizzle outside and the glow of my screen created a strange sense of peace. At 3 a.m., everything feels gentler, even your w...

These days I am busy, so I am happy. And if someone asks me, “How are you?” I reply confidently, with a bold and loud, “I’m doing good.” My scale of happiness is set by the amount of work and chaos I carry. More the work, the better my mind. And you know what? I work best under pressure. Of course, after a cry session. Beware if a girl cries and later tightens her ponytail!!! I've been feeling very exhausted lately. Every day feels like a year! But surprisingly, I am totally enjoying it. Sometimes a long day feels irritating, but I do love that feeling of exhaustion which puts me to bed with a sense of calm, that quiet satisfaction of having done so much for the day. Recounting the things I completed makes me close my eyes in peace, smile, worry less, avoid overthinking, and sleep like a baby. Funnily, the next morning I wake up to the same chaos and never-ending to-do lists, and that very chaos drives me for the rest of the day. Let me ask you a question. How do you deal with proc...

I caught a cold last week.  I know, not the coolest first line to start with. But that's the truth, I caught a cold. Cold, followed by headache, viral fever, nerve-wracking pain, a running nose that later turned into a blocked one, a terrible cough, and of course, darker dark circles. My voice has completely shattered into pieces, and I’ve been calculating the number of words before I speak. I’ve been talking in short, broken sentences. Now you might know the extent of my throat infection. And the worst part? The cough that starts the very moment I lay my head on the pillow. The Universe truly knows to ruin my routine just when I start doing well; exercising regularly, keeping up my intermittent fasting , sleeping decently. And right then, the Universe decides to gift me a virus!!!!! Current Life Update: The picture says it all. ( I'm still breathing through  my mouth, by the way. Sleep has long eluded me. )   Never mind, do you know what’s still keeping me sane? The flav...

I am a young woman in my mid-twenties now, and you know what has been on e of my greatest concerns? The wisdom tooth ! Ever since I turned 18, I’ve been eagerly waiting for the wisdom teeth to show up. It became my own funny little birthday ritual. Each year as October rolled around, I’d catch myself checking, almost manifesting them into existence. Maybe it’s because my birthday reminds me of getting older, and in my mind, wisdom teeth were a sign of finally stepping into adulthood. And of course, there’s a story behind this. My mom and dad have never considered me an adult. Even now, they still look at me as their little child. Whenever I raised my voice or argued, they would shut me up with a quirky line:  “You are still a minor, you don’t understand life — because you don’t even have wisdom teeth yet!” I would be startled every time. I longed for the day my wisdom teeth would come, so I could finally prove I was grown up, capable of taking my own decisions. And well, I am happ...

"My eyelids are heavy. It's brully.. aww it's blully... I can't even roll my tongue! Ahh… it's all blurry and dark and grey, I think. I don't know what else I am feeling." "What do you mean by dark or grey? You are in front of your computer screen and that's not even in dark theme. Are you all right?" "Don't you see I'm working on something? How dare you ask me if I've lost my mind!" "Oh Lord, I didn't ask that… let it go. Do you want a cup of coffee?" "Why the heck would you act as if you care for me? And clearly you are not. I have lost count of the times I've said I won't have anything after my eating window is closed." "Intermittent fasting is driving you crazy." "You are jealous of me. Clearly, being known. Damn! I can't even blink. My eyelids are heavy. What if my neck falls apart? This pain is calling death. I totally feel each and every strand of my hair hurti...

Social media is very powerful. It is impactful, significantly influential, but no doubt it can encase you and slowly pull you deep inside its soul . The concept of doom scrolling probably began with the rapid advancement of social media. I lately am using Instagram far too much, and I had to set a time limit reminder for myself. (Instagram designers already knew this weakness of ours, and they cleverly gave us an option to remind us to close the app. Genius fellas!!) But for the last few days, it's been irritating. People are going absolutely crazy with the AI trends. They are picturing themselves through Gemini AI. This is not new, people keep following some not-so-cool trends very often. But this time, it is the 'Mini creature with tiny stature' and the 'lady in red transparent saree' that is filling up everybody's stories. And honestly, I really can't understand the point of interest behind this. According to me, 'Just doing what others do' is th...

I miss those days when we looked at wedding albums for pastime in relatives’ homes. Even after 5–6 years, the marriage still felt 'new', and people would proudly pull out albums to show. I might sound old and boring, but I hate some of these technological "advancements". (Of course, without them I wouldn’t be writing blogs, never mind!) Now we look at the pictures—oh sorry, reels—on our smartphones. And those never give the natural feel. Over-saturation, extreme color grading, the staged shots—they make everything artificial and unpleasant. Honestly, recent wedding albums feel less like memories and more like catalogues advertising clothes, jewelry, decorations, and makeup. My parents' wedding album is kept at my grandma's place, and whenever I'm there, I never miss the chance to see it. Every time I look at those same old pictures, I'm not bored. They entertain me in a way that's hard to describe. I revisited them last week, and this time it felt...

Let’s imagine we’re playing Name-Place-Animal-Thing . If the letter is "W", no doubt I’ll write "Window" under Place . I’m very sure I won’t write "Window" under Thing but under Place . And we might end up arguing—“Window is not a place!”—and I won’t get a point, while you will, making it 1–0. But I won’t mind. Windows have always been a place to me. A place where I can live, where I can fall asleep, where I’m the most productive version of myself, where my creative juices flow, where I can eat, where I sip my tea and spill some tea if I’ve friends around, where I can laugh, cry, sob, giggle, rant, and write! I’ve always adored windows. Windows have a life in my life. A window is a character in my story. I’m writing this sitting by the window, and now I realize—I’ve always written sitting by the window. I can’t find a single piece of my writing where I’ve placed myself anywhere else. Even as a child, I could sit by the window and entertain myself. No fa...

I hate my mind for giving ideas and inspirations at the wrong time. The strongest urge to write always comes when I’m in the shower, when I’m updating something urgent for office work, or when I’m in the middle of a conversation with someone. I try to jot them down in a word or two on my phone notepad, but it never works well. Some days I even end up with headaches from the rush of ideas I can’t manage. And then, when I finally sit down to write, I go blank. The feeling is not easy, not good. I was very low this week. Feeling pity for yourself is so depressing. I have a story contest deadline in two days, and I haven’t even started. I’m stuck in confusion about what to write. I had to make a decision for myself, just a ‘Yes’ or a ‘No’, and yet I ended up overthinking it for days. For me, overthinking always comes with endless walks, and this time I crossed 13K steps each day for two days, until my legs were sore. Sigh! At work, we also bid farewell to one of the founders, and I was sa...

When I was a teenager back then, this pondered my mind. Now, it has become one of the principles that I’ve adopted and been following in my life. Not too much philosophy, chill! Dating back to 2014—this is a story of teenage Namrata who wears a white blouse and a sky-blue frock uniform, has two tiny, short braids tied with white ribbons, carries a 22-kilo (or probably heavier) school bag, and is a student in 8th grade. You ask which school? You’ll know during the course of the story, but at the moment she says she studies in a school under Kanara Welfare Trust (KWT). Because she loves KWT and has a huge respect towards this education trust. So, given a chance, she never misses saying she’s a baby, kid, a teenager being shaped by KWT. Namrata was always curious to check the notice board. Frequently. Extra-curricular activities had a magnetic effect on her—except sports, in which she was a zero. She always looked out for opportunities in debate, elocution, prose and essay writing—and t...