Duliajan and Queen's Crape-Myrtle

Duliajan will always hold a piece of my soul. I remember the many rainy days—how I would watch from the window, mesmerized by the gulmohar and queen’s crape-myrtle blooms. Splashes of yellow, violet, and enchanting mauve shimmered against a grey backdrop. How I wish I could be wrapped in that soulful beauty again.

I remember sitting beneath the vast, starlit sky, tracing constellations and counting the moments when the moon slipped behind drifting clouds. Sometimes I would see flashes of orange in the sky. Sometimes I would hear the distant bell ring. The breeze carried the fragrance of plumeria and nyctanthes. Looking back, it feels right to say that my entire childhood in that quaint little town was a gift. The people were warm and loving; the whole town felt like one large family. Home was, in every sense, a haven.

I remember the countless car rides with my parents—my head tilted against the backrest, watching the streetlights with a silly grin, or quarreling with my brother and immediately complaining to the adults. I lived those moments fully, without knowing how precious they were. Today, when I look back, I’m simply grateful I was there.

And somewhere in its quiet corners, I hope Duliajan remembers me too.

PS: This is dedicated to someone who inspired me to cherish the good in life - Anita Aunty!

The Usual Comp Off

I was savoring a bowl of rice flakes with dried berries softened in curd when a loose chain of thoughts began to unfurl. It started with the notion that everything must end someday—so what am I doing with the time I have? I’ve always rushed through life; maybe it’s time to slow down. It really is nice to enjoy every spoonful without thinking about the laundry waiting to be washed or the dishes piling up.

And then I wondered: am I staying connected enough to the people I care about, even though being a recluse makes me strangely happy? Today feels like one of those days when solitude is my preferred company. But does all this thinking help at all? I never imagined my life would take the turns it has, so I’ve stopped trying to predict where it’s going. I focus on small actions in the present and try not to think too far ahead. Tomorrow isn’t promised, after all.

When the final curtain falls, it’ll be something I could never have planned or anticipated. Life would have run a course that was beyond the mind's control. Life would have run a course according to the surrender of the mind.

Anyway, back to my bowl of rice flakes and berries soaked in curd. It’s delicious.

29th October, 2025

No vows were spoken,
none were needed;
those moments were heavy,
unbearably long,
incessantly agonising.

He said nothing of love
but stayed,
and in that persistence
there was a strength
words could never hold.

When pain drew its sharpest edge through me,
his hand found mine
and did not move;
not many words,
just presence,
anchored and sure.

He brushed the hair
from my damp forehead,
fingers tracing
the pain's sting,
gathering in the beads of sweat
as though to lift the hurt away.

Then a kiss —
soft,
quiet,
where the perspiration clung;
not passion,
but a vow unspoken.
and beneath his breath,
a whisper:

“I’m here.
I won’t go.
Not now, not ever.”

The words settled between us
like light after storm,
a simple truth
resting against the ache.

And when the pain began to ease,
his hand still held mine —
not to comfort,
but to remain.

Because love,
I learned,
isn’t loud,
nor free of pain —
it is the staying,
the walk together 
through the light and the dark.

Soliloquy #Love

Today, as I drifted through a random playlist, Jason Mraz’s “I Won’t Give Up” began to play—an unexpected melody slicing through the monotony of my mundane tasks. Suddenly, tears welled up, blurring my vision. In that moment, I recognized what I had truly lost: my faith in the raw, unfiltered beauty of love.

Love was meant to be a wildfire—consuming, soul-dissolving, reckless. But somewhere along the way, I realized that few still believed in its sacredness. That realization shattered the illusion for me. Maybe I was naive, or perhaps delusional. Yet, the hope—that someday I’d be loved without conditions—had filled me with a quiet joy.

Then the Universe, in its cruel wisdom, decided to prove me wrong.

And here I stand now, burdened by the weight of change. The rest of my life seems destined to be a steady march—logical, methodical, disciplined, cautious. But I was never meant to be anything less than chaotic, wild, and intoxicated by love.

PS: The current song playing on my device is "The One" by Kodaline. Well, it is what it is.

The Lesson

He was the bottomless abyss
hungrily devouring every fleck of light
a distortion, not the truth.

She crossed the desert of his absence,
where clocks melted
and words turned to ashes;
but time and emotions
returned to rebuild her.

Some storms do not destroy,
they mercilessly strip one bare
until the mirror shows
not just the wounds,
but the door to healing.

Guardian Angel

She climbed the jagged spine of stone,

Sun blazing down, merciless, alone.
Each step a labor, each breath a fight,
Her heart pounded dimming her light.

Sweat dripped down her weary, pale face,
Muscles ached, and she slowed her pace.
Palpitations drummed a frantic rhyme,
The arduous climb had frozen the time .

Just as her knees began to shake,
And she felt the edge of collapse awake,
A gentle breeze threaded through the heat,
The tender gust lifted her weary feet.

An invisible hand caught her still,
A quiet warmth, a steadfast will.
The wind bent close, soft as a prayer,
It gently whispered, I am here.

Strength restored, her heartbeat strong,
She walked again where sunlight shone.
And though the mountain rose so wide,
She felt the sky beneath her stride.

Bali - 2025

I just experienced a beautiful reset. It felt as though a decade’s worth of deadweight—everything I’d unknowingly carried since 2010—was finally lifted. In that release, I rediscovered the softer me. The calmer, gentler version of myself I’d almost forgotten.

The mountains and the sea revealed themselves in their most ethereal form. The breeze carried a warmth that could melt even the coldest of hearts. Strangers offered the brightest of smiles, and the island moved at a rhythm of its own—slow, grounding, and impossible not to fall in love with.

Wandering through orange orchards, swaying to traditional dance forms, mesmerized in serene temples, pausing at picturesque waterfalls, walking through rice plantations, weaving through crowded markets, and standing in awe at the volcanic peak—every moment sang directly to the heart.

There were heartfelt conversations with people I may never meet again, and a complete digital detox that peeled away the chaos. All of it brought me back to my core. My inner self needed this deeply—and finally, it feels whole again.