Small Things of Happiness. <3


Indie playlists on youtube are my most recent obsession.

Only after falling in love with these playlists did I discover that Indie actually stands for ‘independent’.

{I am going to attach a link of one of these playlists here in case anyone of you is curious enough to give it a try —>   This beautiful indie playlist. 🙂   Or this indie electronica playlist}

For a very long time in my head I wasn’t very sure what ‘independence’ truly meant. I mean what does it really mean? Does it have anything to do with freedom? Is independence loving yourself before anybody else?                                                                     After a lot of fleeing around, I think independence to me feels like floating. It’s not being bound by anything unwanted. To be in a place which is silent enough for you to be able to hear yourself. Well, trust me these indie playlists make you feel just that. It frees you while you stay grounded. It creates a beautiful paradox which can only be understood by listening to it.


Some relationships are golden in the most purest of ways. I am talking about those subtle relationships that are, in essence, a very small but warm part of your life. It always seems to make you smile. Like the one with a neighbor’s grandmother,  your locality’s security guard or your school cook. It starts with a mutual smile and slowly without words that one smile leads you to so many sweet smiles that now by just looking at their eyes you know if they are hiding with a smile or genuinely smiling. Smile by smile you get closer and they through time attain a silent but important place in your daily life and you can almost never miss their absence. These subtle relationships are important too.They aren’t governed by exhausting exchanges of words. Just a look is an acknowledgment of their presence in your life’s happy sphere.


Silent conversations and a little bit of alone time can rejuvenate you. These silent conversations can be directed to your confused self or someone you haven’t been able to talk to in a while. This quiet reflection really does the trick for me. It leaves me feeling warm and satisfied as if I’ve just been hugged by a thousand people. Also, it goes without saying that a breezy night with a few stars in the night sky helps get you in the mood for this deep yet calming reflection.




The wind blowing in,

disguised by the dust.

Looking right at it

but could never see,

the gentle force.

Fallen to the ground now.

Eyes wide,

lips pressed,

hands clasped and

thighs wet.

Never saw it coming.

The wind is blowing,

blowing and blowing.

It is pushing, we ,

are falling and

hoping for

never recovering.



My give me butterflies.



Trust me, it frustrates me too, the fact that i don’t like to talk much.

Because it’s important.

Our world see’s it as the primary mode of communication.

“If that’s how you felt, why didn’t you say so ?”

I mean it makes perfect sense !

We don’t have time to peek into everyone’s soul!

The world is full of strangers.

And its so damn hard to catch up with time.


It doesn’t make sense to me too (why can’t i talk ?).

But words just fail to reach my lips.


Thank you.


….Thank you.


I love you very much.


For me, saying it will never be enough.

I guess ‘love’ always remains a beginning.


I love that you talk so much.

I love to listen to you.

It’s comforting , reassuring…and sometimes it even feels as if i can speak through your words.


Why do I love you ?

(Such a stupid question ! Or maybe that’s because I can’t answer it. Well what’s the need ?)

That’s the problem, there is no answer,  no answer right.

Does love work by reason?

Or is it our humane need for understanding , that we can’t stop asking these questions?


I love it when you explain things to me.

I love it when you giggle.

I love it when your eyes speak and your words just fill the silence.

I love it when you talk about horses.

I love it when I hear you talk to other people.

I love the mild, easy silence between us.

I love the memories I have of you and me.

I love it when your breath is almost mine.

I love the songs you made me hear ( that will always remain the sole reason why I love that song.)

I love it that we are confused…together.

I love it that this storm swirled us around till we were blue…and that we fell into each other .


There is a lot we have seen.

And there is a lot we will see.

We will see.





Darkness brings Light.

When the love you thought you understood runs astray and leaves you sobbing like a lost child. Where do you go? Where do you turn to? Do you even have the energy to do anything but sob?

I do believe that sometimes I am indeed a masochist looking for pain, craving for pain. When there is none does your desperation convince you to create it?

Sometimes I do. I create confusion in the simplest of things and hurt the people I love so I can hurt myself.

It’s all a big mess if you ask me.

But when I try to imagine a perfect place where everything is always smooth I feel a little queasy. I don’t think I can live a perfect life because the essence of being human is feeling all these emotions like confusion, sadness, helplessness, love, anxiety, anger to name a few. I believe in the ying-yang. I believe in the presence of the extremes and somewhere inside us we all believe that perfection and happiness need disasters and sadness. It can never be one without the other.

Also, doesn’t being sad and going through a tough time actually make the happy moments much more memorable?

Well, I might be wrong.

I’ve only ever known my own story.





Photo journal. My trip to Haridwar, Rishikesh, Missouri and Dehradun.

Photojournal of a trip that my family and I made in June of this year. 


Rafting in the Ganges.







My beautiful sister. Tell me if you can feel anything but awe at this picture.



The end of a tunnel. the beginning of another?


Trying to capture spirituality.


My D.A.D.


The two most beautiful women in my life.


What do you see? RED.


The hues and cries of a nation.


A sense of belonging.


“Ganga matha ki jai”


Despite what people say, we like to live together in an embrace.


Whisper through the curves of your face.


Anything for the holy dip.


What beauty.


Colours of the earth.










Down a rabbit hole. 

I take vulnerably good pictures sometimes.

The image of Alice falling into a seemingly endless rabbit hole is apt to describe my mental situation at the moment.

I have been over thinking.

A few minutes ago I was starring at my reflection in the mirror and glaring at my dark circles and my frustrating acne. I looked into those sleepy eyes and asked, “You know what you need to do, rather what you  have to do and your still doing nothing about it. Why?”.

I mean, I know perfectly well through what struggle have I got here. I am now studying at a college I like, with friends I love like I have always known them and all this while I have an extremely loving family that I can go back to. Why do I deserve all of this? Do I even deserve it? Is it important to deserve it? (*Sigh)

Admist this chaos, my brain is somehow able to sneak in a sly argument about what I want to post on this blog and if at all I’ll be contradicting my conviction to make a ‘happy niche’ if I post the current realities of my present.

That makes me wonder, when did sadness or confusion become negative emotions? The inherent belief is that sadness equals weakness but you and I know better than that. Would I have ever made that friend if I hadn’t had that conversation which started after I saw her crying and asked her what happened? Sadness makes you vulnerable and that is good. It is in fact positive.

I know we would like to believe otherwise in certain situations but you see that’s what the problem is – the fact that we are generalizing it to mean one single thing.

Because in fact vulnerability can be weakness sometimes which might be a good thing or bad. The fact that positive is negative and the other way around is important for us to acknowledge.

See, that’s what I meant by over thinking. I’ll be more than happy if that made any sense at all.


Despite all the happiness and joy in  our lives we do succumb to the pleasure of sadness sometimes. Such a funny thing it is. It wants to be nice but it can’t, it burns a funny hole into me every time it wants to shake my hand or hug me.


I have been a traveler for as long as I can remember. My father has a transferable job one that requires us to move houses every 2-3 years. I have learnt to live in my diaries and suitcases and I have learnt to let go. I have made many friends who are now scattered around the country like dandelion seeds. I know them. Well, actually I knew them, for there’s too much that we have missed in each other that we cannot make up for with a glance or a hi!   

But, for the last six years I have lived in a place which finally taught me how to feel home. I finally have friends who have seen me transition and become my today. Oh! How beautiful it is to have a chance to hold on. I could and I did.

What does holding on mean?

It means breathing in that extra breath, running that extra inch, sleeping in that extra second, walking for that extra mile, talking for that extra hour, and letting your lips feed on love for that one extra second.

That’s holding on, to you.


For the love of nature!

I have lived (and perhaps you could say ‘studied’) in a boarding school for 6 years.

This school was hidden among the clouds that walked those blue mountains.                           For six  years I breathed fresh cold air till that funny shiver tickled my insides and gave me a terrible cold.                                                                                                                                                   For six years I talked to those dancing eucalyptus trees while they gave me all their attention.                                                                                                                                                         For six years I watched shameless monkeys prancing outside my window while I tried to memorize things I didn’t really care about.                                                                                         For six years the forests welcomed my desperate face and embraced me with a silent walk whenever I needed it.                                                                                                                                     For six years I lived and learned the ways of the oriental white eye, that bird with white eye-shadow around her dainty eyes.                                                                                                          For six years I watched the night glisten with stars on the days the clouds decided to take a break and wet them self some more before they came back again.                                                   For six years I tried to master the art of walking in the rain without slipping or getting too drenched.                                                                                                                                                             For six years those mountains were my home.


Now I squeal at the mere thought of thunder and rain.                                                                         I long to see a plant grow a leaf and to find a tree whose leaves are not brown because of the dust resting on it.                                                                                                                                      I long to shiver, to find my teeth chattering.                                                                                     And I long to see green.                                                                                                                                   GREEN.











My 2:00 am word wanderings.