The Murderous Household of A & I

A & I are notoriously bad at taking care of plants. Give us a cat, and that thing will get pampered more than first born babies. But give us a plant, and we both forget about its existence for multiple days at a time.

Needless to say, plants do not thrive well in our household.

Last year on my birthday, my aunt sent me a plant, and I vowed I’ll take good care of it. In fact it grew exponentially those first few months, encouraging me to think, we can totally do this, this one won’t be tortured and sent to plant heaven. That reduction in photosynthesis will not be on my hands.

But life happened. The usual, always running to try and make it to office type life. Where you remember some days, get angry at A for never remembering at all, and simply move on. I’m not proud of this.

We almost killed Planty, again.

Yes, I named it. And not a very innovative name. But it’s a start, okay?

And for the last one week, as I try to exercise more mindfulness in my day, getting up a little earlier so I have more time to do things I want to do (and not just exercising and rushing to make breakfast and then make it to my work desk), I’m adding this step into my routine.

Watering Planty. You’d think it shouldn’t be that difficult. I even spritz it with some water and talk soothingly.

Guilt can make you do so much.

So here’s saying a little prayer, that Planty makes it. He almost hasn’t. Some parts of him collapsed and a lot of him is still browning. But I’m convinced that this time I can do it.

Who knows, maybe I’ll soon be adding more to Planty’s family.

So many more to kill.

Okay, where did that voice come from? Wtf brain?

Of Floating and Nothingness

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During the daily family call this morning, there was a bit of awkward silence, where we reached a point where nobody had anything new to add. We had exhausted our discussion on what content to watch on which streaming platform, even our bit of Bollywood gossip (as a family, this is probably our least talked about topic).

And when Mum asked us what’s new, we said nothing.


That’s how life’s events are being characterised right now.

Life has become monotonous to the extent that adding a walk in the evening is a ‘something new’ to talk about. Sure, I’m too scared to step out most days, and finally only do so when I feel like I’ve used up all the oxygen in our tiny house and could do with some fresh supply (I’d say this happens once in two weeks).

What we cooked, workout challenges, new deals converted, old books I never got around to – this is what the day’s update looks like now.

And maybe that’s okay.

Sure, there isn’t any office gossip anymore, no more Uber mishaps (really do NOT miss that), no lovely new cafe’s to describe, and definitely no vacations to look forward to.

And of course, we miss that.

But maybe it’s okay to not have updates. Maybe it’s okay to try and spend a few days with nothingness. Of just being. Because if there isn’t monotony, is there really ever a need to do something new?

P.S. I’m not sure if I believe in what I’ve written above. Monotony scares me. Being stuck in one place is one of my biggest fears. Not moving forward, not doing more. And 2020 has been a massive lesson in how to deal with plans crashing down, without having the ability to plan further to deal with it. So whether I’m imparting hard earned wisdom, or trying to convince myself – well, for once, your guess is as good as mine!

How Well Do You Really Know Yourself?

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No, this isn’t a quiz where the score at the end will say, ‘Congratulations, you are a know-it-all when it comes to yourself!’. It’s also something that sounds super obvious, doesn’t it? Of all the people in the world, the one person we definitely know well is ourselves, right?

A recent self-exploration session made me rethink that. To some extent.

The more we talked about me, what’s important to me, my values, my needs – certain things kept coming up, things that I hadn’t thought about for a long time. Yet they were things that I knew I’d spent most of my teenage years and early 20s fighting for.

It seemed it was as important to me now, if not more.

And yet, somewhere I’d stopped fighting for it.

When I visualised the person I’d like to be, I realised it was the person I used to be.

At what point did I manage to lose myself?

When did I tell myself to start living up to people’s expectations from me, instead of living up to my own expectations from myself?

How do we take the mask off? The one that’s now glued on so tight that you’re no longer sure where the plastic ends and the skin starts?

How do we turn back time, and become ourselves, again?

P.S. If there’s one thing this session made me realise, it’s the importance of having some time to myself. And it’s the one thing I’d suggest to everyone around me. Take advantage of the lovely rains and maybe just sit somewhere comfortable, with your cup of tea / coffee / water, and nothing else. No blue screens. No distractions. Just you and your thoughts. And remember, who you really are.

Maybe, you’d be pleasantly surprised.