Rambles

I write & shoot (photographs) occasionally

Month: March, 2016

orange

India is so incredibly stunning, a land of warmth and vibrance.

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on streams, people and friendships

I’m lucky enough to have met so many kind people and wonderful friends in my life that I think I begin to expect a sort of permanence in every close relationship. If we clicked so easily and were so attached for those few days, sharing our pasts and bearing each others’ secrets, shouldn’t we have remained friends longer, extended the veins of our affinity further?

Yet, thinking about it now, I’m convinced that not every friendship is meant to be like that. Not every friendship you encounter and person you meet is destined to be a lifelong friend and pillar of support, people you go back to and want to meet through the best and worst days. And I’m not saying that impermanence is bad; rather, there is a beauty in temporality, moments you cherish by the seconds like sand falling through your fingers. Just because you couldn’t keep everything doesn’t mean you weren’t happy then, doesn’t mean that all your memories are not worth it. Thinking back now, our time together shines in a golden light, those moments we lost ourselves too much in to ever consider a future past them. Carefree, happy, worry-free, laughing for the sake of it. The people you meet along the way, the people you remember, the times you spent together: all these coalesce and crystallise into memories you hold dear to you, experiences that never would have been as perfect had the characters been altered. I still believe that every human you encounter along your path was placed there for a reason; fate carefully considers its every orchestration.

The perennial streams are lovely. They are always filled, always reliable. You can whisper your secrets into a bottle and set them afloat on these waters, cry tears that will be washed away by the constant currents, let the coolness of the waters rejuvenate you and remind you what it feels like to be alive. These waters will always envelop and surround you like a velvet blanket, they will always be waiting for you to come back- calming and enduring rivers.

The ephemeral streams don’t stay… they disappear after a while. And though you can’t hold on to their fading waters, they too are beautiful. The moments may have been fleeting but they too have washed your skin and heard your deepest fears and thoughts through the bubbles. Long after they’re gone you’ll remember them there in their most beautiful frame, gleaming and flowing through the rocks, with you. Long after they have dispersed into the air and infiltrated the grassy earth, the memories remain, interspersed with your own.

passing out parade

the joy was palpable. congrats to all! 🙂

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it is by retracing the past that i retrieve my privileges like lost belongings and remember how blessed i am. i firmly believe that what is meant to be will fall into place; it may not seem like the best thing now but it will work out the way it should in due time. looking back now, i can pinpoint exactly where the train deviated from my intended, expected track. but the destination still is, and will be the same.

before

it’s fair to say that i’ve settled into a sense of peace and comfort in my post-school life. this peace of having nowhere to go at times, accepting that some days are meant to be without plan, allowing aimlessness the occasional visitor to rest its arms around my shoulders. forgetting that the whole notion of school still exists, that life goes on normally for everyone else, seeing tired grouchy faces trudging home in the evening when children are screaming in the playground, reflections of my own life just months ago. a floating, untethered existence, having no institution or organisation to bolster my identity- i’m just me, not the me from so and so school, no labels and names for people to judge me by. not exactly studying, not exactly working, caught in in-betweens and uncertainties, sporadically entertaining thoughts of the future but simultaneously curbing my imagination from getting too carried away. uncertain is the word for everything. everything is a likelihood, a possibility, a dream we are given months to craft. feeding these illusions and unrealities to adults who enquire about my plans and future paths incessantly, but then again perhaps they only know to ask me what they’ve been through themselves. it is difficult to work on the intangible but today reality will be served up, piping hot or stone cold. feeling irrationally old. been praying for the uncanny peace i found this day of sorts two years ago, and I think it’s here today. haven’t written in a while and it feels good to move my mind again, even if through the slush it can only make up a jumbled paragraph. my go-to question has been: ‘what’s the worst that could happen?’, and I guess it could be pretty bad, but no matter what i know that i’ll have a road to take.