Inkblot

Dear someone who's reading this, Hope you're doing fine. It’s Wednesday today, but I’m still emotionally stuck on Saturday night. Life has marched on — I had a jam-packed few days after that, semester practical exams on Monday and Tuesday, rushed between cities, long bus journeys, early alarms, checked things off my calendar, yet part of my mind is still paused there, quietly replaying those few surreal minutes from Saturday. Let me tell you what happened. Disclaimer: this is neither a fairy tale nor a made-up bedtime story. But it could easily pass for one. So, I was to leave for Bangalore on Saturday night. If you don’t know me well — I live in Sirsi, Karnataka. Correction: in a village tucked away 14 km from Sirsi town, deep inside the Western Ghats, nestled between tall trees and thick silence. My parents call it heaven. I call it a jungle. Fair. Now for the weather. It had been raining cats, dogs, and possibly wild boars for three days. That’s normal here. But this time...

“Color color, what color, which color do you choose?” “Red.” “Uh-oh! Red is already busy waving from flags and storming the streets, walking red flags everywhere! Definitely choose something else.” “Again, Color color, what color, which color do you choose?” “I choose green.” “Nope. Green is already stuck on environmentalist placards and awareness campaigns. You choose green, but green doesn’t choose you. Again, Color color, what color, which color do you choose?” “Uff… white this time.” “Not loudly, you girl! If you say you choose white, people might call you a racist. Again... Color color, what color, which color do you choose?” “I hate this game. I choose pink.” “That’s extinct. All young girlies used it up on their bedroom walls in 2009.” “Color color, what color, which color do you choose?” “Okay, black it is!!” “Oh dear. Black is currently taken by air pollution and the ozone debate. Not available for you. Try again.” “Beige. Nothing can go wrong this time.” “Men don’t even know...

Yes, that hurt me. I had to sit down for a while to figure out what was going on. Because obviously, you’re not in your senses when you hit your pinky. And then I realized — today is Wednesday. That must be why it happened. Wednesdays are supposed to be frustrating. And if Wednesdays don’t do what’s assigned to them, they might lose their job!! No doubt this Wednesday has already checked off its weekly goal. Let me ask you, do Wednesdays in your life ever go smoothly? Mine rarely do. Problems start right from the morning — if I wake up! It’s hard to get out of bed on Wednesdays because they don’t come with any motivational perks. Things like, “Come on, just one more day!” or “Wake up! Yesterday you had so much fun.” Nope! Instead, Wednesday whispers, “You left that pending yesterday,” “You still haven’t started this and you said tomorrow you will,” “You stopped meditating two weeks ago.” Urghh! Wednesdays seriously need a class on how to wake up people gently. The rest of the day fee...

This cycle keeps me sane, I must say. What cycle? Hear my story now. I am an “early to bed, early to rise” person. This holds true for most days in a year. But once in a while, I go full “early to bed, still in bed” mode. Balance, right? Yes! I am hyperactive and super productive most of the year. Then I catch hold of a very silly reason, like cold or cough or even a slight climate change, and go into a hibernation or aestivation. After I recharge, I want to paint, or I want to sing. Or I want to write a 400-page novel. Three of such 400-page novels are in draft! Each close to twenty pages, I guess. Very close to 400. LOL!  And when I want to paint, I order all the fancy supplies, spending so much on them. By the time they arrive at my door, I’m done with the painting phase and now I’m baking some choco-chip or fruit and nut cookies in the kitchen. Then I realize I needed cranberries or some exotic ingredient that you see on the internet but never find anywhere near me. I’m a ver...

I’m into books these days. Well, I’ve always liked books, but these days, I find myself reading a little more. And guess what? It’s not the story plots or thrilling twists that stick in my mind but it’s the act of bookmarking. Strange for a first thought, I know. But the more I think about it, the more I realize how beautifully the idea of bookmarking holds the essence of life. Think about it. It’s such a simple thing, placing a cute little bookmark on the page when you’re pausing or leaving. Yet, it carries so much meaning. You’re not ending the book, just taking a break, saving your spot, and promising to come back. And bookmarking isn’t just about books, is it? We all do it, whether we realize it or not. With physical books, it doesn’t even have to be a proper bookmark—a neatly cut rectangle of card or paper. It could be a pen cap, a chocolate wrapper, a grocery store receipt, or even a charger cable! Anything nearby that lets you say, “This is where I’ll continue from.” It’s such a...

I hope you didn’t autocorrect ‘unique’ to ‘weird’ in your mind, nvm. While the universe creates humans, we are all unique. Over time, we’re influenced by society, family, and the friends we choose. But if you zoom out a little, it’s easy to broadly categorize people as unique, common, or somewhere in between. Of course, this is totally relative to one’s opinion. So, do you want to know why I think I’m unique? Well, I don’t really know what runs in people’s heads. I only know mine, and maybe this is just a classic case of a frog in a well thinking it’s special. For all I know, the things I’m about to share might be running in everyone’s mind, but since I’ve never talked about them with anyone, I can’t help but think I’m the only one who does these things. When you see me being quiet, I’m not at all! There’s always something going on in my mind. Most of the time, I’m drawing something in the air—not with my hands, but with my eyes. They don’t make any sense. Sometimes, it’s a telephone w...

A big wave! It hit hard but the sand did not dishearten. The sand was shining. The Sun, veiled in clouds, was ready to sign off for the day. The sand’s soul shattered into a hundred thousand grains, yet it remained a single body. A big wave again! The sand was cleansed to its purest, as if healing from bruised human footprints. Another giant wave! A tiny boy sought a hug, and the wave cradled him in her bosom. Foam wove patterns like silver lace on brown velvet, a fleeting masterpiece for the sand. The waves hummed lullabies to the restless shore, their song as old as the Earth. A wave again! Milky lather embraced the brown sand, soothing and consoling, lovingly. - Namrata