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Sriparna Gogoi  Read. Link to the blog:


Don’t you dare regret the extra pounds if you’ve enjoyed every bite of the extra serving that came your way. @duttatanya basically asked me to twirl so no, this isn’t all that there is to me.

2/2; 2016, for me ended on a strangely disturbing note for me. I was seated next to my great aunt, who was propelled next to her husband, who was fixed to a couple of machines and a huge oxygen cylinder to keep him alive. This was the second time I’d met the two of them; with both the meetings three years apart. And I remember, selfishly praying that I won’t have to spend the new year watching a man heave through a thick pipe in his mouth. New Years were supposed to be better than that. To my momentary relief, I really didn’t. But for the next twenty hours, all I thought about was my aunt, sitting there, next to him, recollecting all the prayers that were taught so vigorously not to forget. It would make me bitter, I thought. I thought that failed relationships would make me bitter about people who were in one. But it didn’t. Just because one man was more than a handful, did not mean that the rest of the world that believed in relationships were devoid of sane logic. I was surprised for a moment, but then I remembered a dear friend writing to me about how I was worth absolutely nothing, that my future were abysmal. But i don’t remember not making friends again, I don’t remember not picking up a book to shut myself out. Basically, 2017, in a word was exhausting. But I remember saying this two years ago on this day, and I’ll say it again, I am not tired yet. And my friend, I hope, neither are you.

...it was this fear of absolutely no control, that brought me to a point in my life which perhaps wasn’t even a part I’d like to discuss in the open. If you stop me mid sentence now, and ask me to give you lessons on how to get over existential crisis or depression, I probably won’t be the best person to do that. For I have no idea how I did. I have fought with people who disbelieve the power of cognition in behaviour, for as long as I knew that there was the very possibility of challenging thought over biology. But in those months, I let myself go the way it wavered. So, you see, I really do have no idea how I got through those nights when I despite the lights in my room staying lit the entire time, I managed to scare myself of the dark and the quiet. Or how the next day, I still packed my bag, and attended a class at 8 in the morning. I don’t know how I gathered the courage to get streaks in my hair or a piercing that had anything to do with a needle as thick as a bundle of three dozen hairs (yes, in American grammar, you use hairs to signify singular entity, don’t even get me started). And I sure as hell don’t know how I walked through miles of rugged terrain, rock, water and sand to sleep in the freezing cold despite being told that I am not cut out for anything more than walking for half a kilometre. So, forgive me, I do not have a rule book, or a few inspirational words to spare but if you need me to wait, while you hurl everything in sight while you wail to the lords or to keep the lights on because no amount of light is enough, I will not walk away.

1/2; I haven’t written much this year. In fact, if you look at the folder in my laptop that reads “stories”, you’ll find two additions to the other lot, both incomplete. And as far as writing short paragraphs and notes are concerned, my notes grew shorter and paragraphs are two lines joined by an auxiliary conjunction that wasn’t necessarily enhancing. Now, I don’t know what people called this, until I heard what they call it and it made perfect sense. They call it the “writer’s block”. In my course, we try to describe and explain behaviour, but I betrayed what I dived into. I did not look at the reasons I did not finish what I wrote, I did not feel like I was ready to be subjected to my own discretion. My point is, I refused to know why because knowledge scared me. Sometimes, knowledge can be a step towards revolution. Sometimes, knowledge is a step between helplessness and learned helplessness. In the latter, you know that you’re tied, you know that there is a hovering quandary ahead of you, but you also know that you do not have the means to reach out of it. So you stay put, you do not move, or make noise. I didn’t move, I didn’t make a noise, because I was afraid that I won’t live up to my expectations of who I ought to become. I was afraid that I ran out of my stock of faith. Credits: @obviouslyapanda

Long time no validation. 📷 @mehak_rawal

Kya se kya ho gaye, pahado se phisle the, seedhe smog mein ghus gaye.

@tanishka0108 and I paying homage to Yogesh, Arika, Disha, Prithviraj, Ravi and Himanshi who have made a mark by using chalk on a rock while we can’t find a matching sock.

Net-flicks and chill.

Backspacing into eternity, because here or there, you won’t recognise my pattern.

Sanskari like the whistle your son blows at random women on the road.

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