I don't believe in anyone saying "2020 is all about survival". 

2020 is all about acceptance that comes from change. 

I've never been away from home, friends & family for so long before. 2020 is has been a year full of transformation in many ways. I was a happy, sappy girl looking to be saved by someone else. I wanted to be appreciated by others. I wanted things to happen out of love, and it happened, but never in love. I convinced myself that I'm facing the loss because everything has been my fault and my past kept crumbling me down. I lost my sanity over change that was not welcomed. I lost myself over the feelings I waited for. I lost my sensitivity, faith and smile. The cries remained unheard, unknown and ignored. My heart petrified as a stone. No touch, voices, insight I could recognise. I kept denying the change and escaped out of desperation. It was me shutting the doors of growth for myself. Writing or sharing my feelings anywhere sounded like a victim's plan. It took 7 months to realise and accept everything that happened, good or bad. Today I'm not stuck and I'm recovering from the change. I still cry a lot, but not over things that didn't work well. I cry seeing the journey I covered and how I managed it alone. I cry thinking why breaking is easy and building is difficult. 

 ~ the pain you won't resonate to, unless you go through it



"I am a story of a book of love"

 

 I am A Story,

One, only I can dance.

Somewhere on some bookshelf,

I live for most , dusty and raw.

Sometimes a few pages turned,

Mis-read, mis-understood, mis-interpreted.

Something about the cover itself,

Non glossy or fancy, makes them think it ordinary.

Most of the times, 

The exhausting narrative 

Of this book of me 

Keeps them at bay. 

It’s too coloured with struggles, 

Too filled with blatant honesty of tears,

Over worded with pain guided with smiles, 

Loaded with silence, held in the joyous being. 

Earesed , several times over and still not right. 

Re- written, and yet not the saga experienced beyond my form.

But this is me, 

My narrative,

My book of me , 

The one I choose to write.

I sing my own language of alphabets and create its meaning.

I carry my own burdens and experiences in each sentence. 

I hold on and let go of my own dreams and judgements in each para.

I breathe my own chaos and calm in every chapter.

I come alive to my own shared energy with this existence. 

I become more of me with each experience of every word. 

I merge somewhere in the lines of this “book of love”.

explore, discover the parts of life...

 

What keeps us attached to the past, moments, memories, people and time? 

Something good that you shared, lived and felt probably. 

But life doesn't stick to one single moment for the lifetime. 

Life is a new chapter every other day. 

Life is changing every single second. 

We tend to hold on the good deeds, 

and desire to keep feeling it again and again. 

We keep it close, because it was worth remembering then. 

But continuously feeling the same 

warmth, won't prepare you for the storms. 

Continuously being drowned in the rain

won't teach you the value of sun rays. 

You gotta accept everything that's coming today, happened in the past and might occur in the future. 

We are not prepared for the dark clouds each day, 

still we don't stop it from happening and make a way besides it. 

And like that one day

everything will start making sense. 

Every obstacle will take you closer to the destination. 

Free the brave spirit and 

raw soul to roam out, 

wander without chains, 

away from your comfort land 

to hunt their strength and 

remember your journey

towards the discovery of life. 

 ~ explore, discover the parts of life 

Being foodie 🤭

 Dhokla is a veggie lover culinary dish that is discovered mostly in the Indian territory of Gujarat and parts of adjoining states. It is made with an aged hitter got from rice and part chickpeas. Dhokla can be had for breakfast, as a primary course, as a side dish, or as a bite.

Honestly I love dhokla alot. So most of the time I ended up ordering this for snacks. Actually I love soft, smoothing dhokla but in Santiniketan I rarely get that😑😑 (I only get it when my Gujarati roomie go back to her home for vacation 🤭🤭). So now, as I am still here in Prayagraj (Allahabad) I don't want to regret for not having these after I return to Santiniketan. 😅😅

Place: Bikaner (my current favourite for dhokla 🤭)

Price: 32/- per plate (3 pieces will be there)

P.S: it was a date with one of my super woman of my life ❤️💕

 A story of two frogs gives a ground-breaking exercise of being Deaf to Negative Thoughts. 

Next time you hear someone condemning or ridiculing you, recollect it's most likely only a few of uproarious frogs. 

As a gathering of frogs were going through the forested areas, two of them fell into a profound pit. At the point when different frogs swarmed around the pit and perceived how profound it was, they told the two frogs that they're was no expectation left for them. 

Notwithstanding, the two frogs chose to overlook what the others were stating and they continued to attempt to leap out of the pit. In spite of their endeavors, the gathering of frogs at the highest point of he pit were all the while saying that they should simply surrender. That they could never make it out. 

In the end, one of the frogs noticed to what the others were stating and he quit any pretense of, tumbling down to his demise. The other frog kept on hopping as hard as could reasonably be expected. Once more, the horde of frogs shouted at him to stop the torment and simply bite the dust. 

He hopped significantly harder lastly made it out. When he got out, different frogs stated, "Did you not hear us?" 

The frog disclosed to them that he was hard of hearing.

What is dance?

What is dance? Can you define it? Will you be able to say when you danced the dance of you and when you were a part of the Universe’s dance? I ask.

“Life is a dance. Dance ‘is’, it always is. 

Why ask the questions all the time , when you can simply be the dance in the moment.  For the  dance goes on within us and without us, whether we are aware of it or not is our journey.” Says the Guru.

Dancing in the space of my Guru, is a blessing beyond words. 

As I close my eyes and go back to this moment, it all comes flooding... This body of mine begins to respond to what it still carries from the vibrations of the master. The mind finds the still. The movement goes beyond the limbs. The heart creates its rhythm. The eyes brim with tears of gratitude. And the awareness of it all, starts to create the dance. 

My current favorite

Shawarma is a dish in Center Eastern cooking comprising of meat cut into slight cuts, stacked in a cone-like shape, and broiled on a gradually turning vertical rotisserie or spit. 

Initially made of sheep or lamb, the present shawarma may likewise be chicken, turkey, meat, or veal. Thin cuts are shaved off the cooked surface as it persistently turns. 

Shawarma is one of the world's most mainstream road nourishments, particularly in Egypt, the nations of the Levant and the Middle Eastern Promontory, and past.

Being a foodie I always try to have something new and tasty 😋

Today on the occasion of bhai dooj (bhai fota in Bengali) me and my brother tried this amazing chicken Shawarma..

Place: Night market (near BHS)

Price: 60/-