Reflections of a restless eccentric

This has been lying in my drafts for months now. Finally chose to put it up! Vellichor*: The strange wistfulness of used bookstores, which are somehow infused with the passage of time—filled with thousands of old books you’ll never have time to read, each of which is itself locked in its own era, bound and dated and papered over like an old room the author abandoned years ago, a hidden annex littered with thoughts left just as they were on the day they were captured. One of the perks of buying an “old, handed-down” book! Nothing in these last several days made me feel this light at heart as this single flaky flower did! What is this flower? When did it land here? How did it land here? Did someone place it here on purpose, or did it inadvertently find its way? May be while sitting under the tree where it blooms? What used to be its fragrance? Its colour? What thoughts does it carry? And whose? Did it mean something to someone? If so, what? Does it hold any emotions? If yes, how inte...

This article comes with twofold inspiration- a word from Obscure Sorrows and David Wallace's famous commencement speech titled 'This is water'. I would highly encourage you to read This is Water, if you haven't already. (Link in P.S) Sonder- everyone has a story The realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own—populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries and inherited craziness—an epic story that continues invisibly around you like an anthill sprawling deep underground, with elaborate passageways to thousands of other lives that you’ll never know existed, in which you might appear only once, as an extra sipping coffee in the background, as a blur of traffic passing on the highway, as a lighted window at dusk . Our life is a first person story. It is centered around us, and everyone and everything else is relative to our own self, including all our experiences. This is our default setting. Several times, ...

Disclaimer: All credits for the word remain with John Koenig of Obscure Sorrows. This is merely a personal retelling. I don't know about you Reader, but for me, one of the most exciting things about life is how grand it is in terms of the possibilities it offers. All the books you could read, all the places you could visit, all the things you could be and do. As a child I looked at all this and marvelled. How beautiful life is! There were a multitude of things that fascinated me, and I would dream of so many paths I could take in life, all the people I could be. I would wonder what it is like to be a writer. To be a musician. To be a scientist. To be a mathematician. To be a neurologist. I had a thirst for knowledge, for books, for places, for life itself. Slowly, I started making choices. They would seem tiny at the moment, but they started crafting my path on the map. Every choice I made, that path got more defined. And I never looked back or second guessed myself, beca...

Obscure sorrows is by far the most challenging series for me as a writer, because the videos and lyrics are literally perfect. It is really hard for me to just retell this from a fresh perspective, let alone improve upon its content. But what is life without challenges?:) This article is dedicated to a very special friend, who I have been inviting as a guest writer on my blog for some time now. This person has a very powerful voice, one that the world needs to hear, and I hope I can soon get that to happen! :) Lutalica - The part of your identity that doesn't fit into categories Growing up, I wanted to invisible. I wanted to be nondescript. I would shy away from anything that brought attention on me-- photographs, public speaking and even just hanging out with a large group. All of this would make me feel vulnerable. It is also one of the reasons I have struggled with publishing my writing--I felt far too vulnerable speaking my mind to the world at large. For years, I kept my...