Sundays are not usually eventful for me, but today went quite well. I started my day with seeing my client who comes for therapy in the morning – with electricity not cooperating, we had to switch the place twice in the 47 degrees heat. I couldn’t help but wonder the repercussions of it. Changing the spaces. Can every space feel safe with the same person or does it change? I kept ruminating about how spaces have an important role in a therapeutic relationship or any relationship for that matter.
Settings, certain rooms, light, time, furniture – can they contain you on various occasions?
Moving forward, I went to the temple – I was starving, as I hadn’t had my breakfast and wanted to go sit in silence for some time before I consumed anything. Temples are a beautiful concept, according to me. Not just temples, a place of worship is what I mean. Especially, if silence is maintained. I mean, you have the one space where you can just sit and stare into nothing for a long time and that does not seem odd to others around you. When I usually go to the temples and if I have some time in hand, I just like washing up the whole place. Cleaning the marble floors there, helps me cleanse my own dirt. In this heat, washed and wet marble feels so refreshing, I cannot even attempt to describe – you just have to do it for yourself to feel the freshness that I am talking about.
Coming back home, I found my place was locked. My parents just left, and I didn’t know where the keys were. I figured it out eventually, and it was brunch time, already. Before I could let my hunger turn me into the monster that I become, I picked myself some paranthas and curd and namkeen and bakery cookies. Nicely decorated it on the plate and put up Gossip Girl on the Netflix. I know you may judge me for watching GG, but I guess I have run out of fun things to watch now. Plus, I don’t like watching serious stuff, that I have to put my brains into – so, GG to my rescue. Haha.
Watched it, ate it. And as per the plan, I opened my laptop to write something on my blog today. I wanted to. But I just kept getting distracted with all the phone calls, courier guys and Instagram notifications. Then, I gave up.
I just couldn’t get myself to write a single word. I guess we all know the feeling.
That feeling when we have so much we wish we could write about, but we get overwhelmed by our wishes. So, I got back to watching Netflix.
“it’s okay to enjoy Sundays.
no, you are not wasting time.
self-compassion, self-compassion, self-compassion”
I thought I’d watch the 5:00 PM FIFA World Cup match today because a friend recommended, but let us be honest, sports is not my thing. Watching football is definitely fun, but it’s more of a social activity where we can take sides and scream at the screen as if they were listening to us. I did not watch the match, partly because it slipped my mind. And partly because, I got a call from a girl. She is this 19 yr old, so passionate and eager, a super-junior in school, a reader of my old blog and an ex-intern of mine at Gramiksha.
We got into a very meaningful conversation about life, poetry and writing in general. I was surprised to know that she is only 19 and doing great things in her life, what left me more shocked was her answer to my question “wait! if you’re only 19, how old were you when you were reading my blogs back then?” and she said “14 years old”. I didn’t know a 14 yr old was reading me back then.
She told me, how a significant part of her writing style and the way she connects to poetry has been influenced through my blog. Leave alone how flattered I feel right now, I feel responsible. I feel like, I should continue my work of writing, even if it’s just blogging this.
Who knows which kid in which street of which city is reading this and this is all he/she has, to hold on to. To come back to. To belong to, perhaps.
I don’t take credit for it. I definitely don’t want to take credit for the greater things she or my other readers are doing. It’s just that I feel great. I feel motivated enough to continue this. I do feel, it has some meaning after all. And, I guess, documenting just little details of my life hasn’t lost its charm even now.
Note to self
[after I hung up an hour-long conversation with her, this beautiful human being] – KEEP WRITING.