Story of a lost journalist

March 14, 2013

Between here and there

Filed under: Diary — Cris @ 13:35

On the rare days that I do Yoga (or the tummy-reducing parts of it), I look at a pink shawl hanging from my pink stand every time I rub my double chin in the hope of tucking it in. There are six teddy bears on the right side of my bed. Suddenly I go to hug them all like a man greeting his children when he comes back home after a long break. I look at my bed and call it my bed. I don’t want to leave the pink shawl, or the bears or my bed or even the speck of dust on the roof I see every night as I go to sleep. And I really had to hear a certain clink of bangles from the next room, that would reach my room unannounced and call me mole. This was home.

I come to office and suddenly it is all Bombay talk. I see messages asking about my accomodation there. I picture living alone, coming to the room, doing everything on my own terms. I like this picture a lot. There is a side of me that tells me it would be nothing like I imagine, you are likely to hate it all and hate yourself for bringing this on yourself. But now is not six days later, now is still a time for picturing everything I like my life to be. Six days later, it changes. To reality. And reality happens only in real time. So that’s alright.

There is a me torn somewhere in between. A wannabe explorer in the day, a homesick retard in the night. I am in between day and night. I can’t give up my dream to go out into the world, and I can’t leave everything that means everything to me. There are many logical mes inside the head, telling me this is nothing to rake my brains over. There is always the option to come back if things turn bad. Or not go at all if it’s that sickening. My life really is in my hands so why do I act like a remote-controlled person, forced to act on someone else’s orders? I can decide when to walk, when to talk and when to go from one place to another. But logical me is always brushed off by emotional me. There’s only the tears of knowing not what to do, the pain of moving and not moving, the torture of indecisiveness.

So I write. From me to me. And does it work?
Apart from the satisfaction of being able to express, not really. But it kept my mind off things for a few minutes. The time you take to write about something that worries you is probably the only time you don’t worry about it.



  1. Woow…u do hav a logical
    side….:-P…..throw it off a
    bridge or window…we wouldnt want
    such toxic stuff.. Btw…does ur
    kiddie Teddies have names..:-)

    Comment by Blungi — March 14, 2013 @ 14:27 | Reply

    • Blungi: yeah I do have a logical side, but it is put in mute most of the time :-).

      Comment by Cris — March 14, 2013 @ 14:46 | Reply

  2. nice writing…moving away from home is always a pain 🙂

    Comment by maverick — March 14, 2013 @ 14:44 | Reply

    • So utterly true Maverick (both parts of your comment).

      Comment by Cris — March 14, 2013 @ 14:47 | Reply

  3. When we look forward we look forward to our gains in future and when we looks back we looks back to our loses of the past.. but present .. confuses us.. when comparison between what to be gained for which what to be lost..

    But be sure.. there is nothing in this world as big a lose as the clink of bangles and the sweetest address of being the ‘mol’

    Being with ourself is fun when we have the world with us.. but it ceases to be so when our moves beyond our hand reach..

    I Like the post a lot.. indeed one among your best..

    And a few words to the author.. Where ever you are.. Take good care of yourself

    Comment by Javed Miandad — March 15, 2013 @ 18:11 | Reply

  4. “If I could wake up in a different place, at a different time, could I wake up as a different person?”

    Hey, new is good!

    Comment by oneirodynic — May 29, 2013 @ 13:18 | Reply

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