Bucket List

If I were to ask you- what does happiness mean to you, what would you say to me? I shall lead the conversation with my take on it. I believe that happiness, as Aristotle says, is not a state of mind. Rather, it is an activity. I think perpetual, omnipresent happiness is a complete lie and totally misleading because it’s simply unrealistic to believe you can be happy 24x7 or even through most of the day. Simply because majority of the activities we are busy filling up our lives with are almost 90% routine and very rarely ecstatic, since there’s nothing exciting about sitting and reading on a laptop for almost 12 hours a day. Yes, it’s fun sometimes. You're learning. And you’re definitely choosing this. But often, we mistake passion with a sense of a 100% reward in the form of immense joy. We often mistakenly believe that even when we’re following our calling, we’re going to have nothing to complain about anymore because it’s what your heart is asking for. What we forget ...

The Bird stepped over its nest, ready to fly, her auburn feathers shining like liquid gold mixed with swirls of rich red. A single sound had not escaped her from her birth to this moment, as she flew in search of something, her soul already knew the destination of.  To the world, the beating of her wings was the only giveaway of her existence. It was the first day of her flight. And she didn't stop till it was almost dusk. She hadn't stopped to eat nor drink, her throat parched but pulsating with the sound of her heartbeat, telling her to not rest till she reached where her being pulled her. The sight of the naked, dark, thorn tree is what stopped her, mid-flight. She perched on a branch, uncaring of the short, sharp thorns, rising out of the branches like a possessive lover, confident of its ownership. She searched with eyes, rich with ebony and astoundingly deep. The attentive survey of her sight only ceased when she saw that one particular thorn- of intimidating length...

I am often angry. I can't point to a trigger for why I am choosing to write this today, except the crushing atmosphere of patriarchy I find myself struggling to breathe in. It's a phenomenon of great occurence- to be uncomfortable when exposed to a hostile environment but accept it as the norm, when you, for your peace of mind, and before you notice, acknowledge the abnormal, by saying "it's just how it is." Well, that's not okay. If this is how it is, it's high time that bloody change. My college has a peculiar policy. Boys and girls are charged the same amount of hostel fee and yet, girls aren't allotted single rooms till their last year in the 5 year programme we are all enrolled in. Whereas boys have the right to, after their first year. I am angry when I hear a sitting Judge of the High Court tell us that this seething issue between the students themselves and against the administration, is actually an exercise in "women learning how to co...

The lonely traveler was trudging up the hill, his breath becoming shallower with every step. He was surprising himself with his body's rebellion against the exertion that was his passion for as long as he could remember. He stopped to breathe in the pristine air of the unadulterated hill-top. His curious eyes, running with naked feet across the vast expanse of the view of undulating mountains, crowned with proud junipers- hungry, as only the starving heart of a poet. His heartbeat spiking, he grinned in exhilaration, just as his gaze was captured by a girl, hardly a day over 12, dressed in red. Her hair was braided through a piece of silver jewellery, cradling her tiny head. Her eyes too honest, her face intensely happy, her small body covered in a too-big kaftan. He called out a question, seeking her name. He received a grin and a movement of her hand, indicating she couldn't speak. He approached her and she stepped towards him warmly. His head bent to capture the sinews ...