Sunday, 18 December 2016

First Times

My first poem was
supposed to be a love
poem, the way all poems are
straightaway or indirectly;
something about poems
makes love a fundamentality.
It was
supposed to flow like
a river, the way water
cuts and polishes
stones it traverses;
something about poems
needs a sculpting, a finality.
And it was
supposed to hold up candles
to light up the world, the way
stars guide sailors out of tragedy;
something about poems
is poultice to calamity.
my first poem was of heartbreak,
how hearts are supposed to
beat only till one day
when they can't.
And despite how much you want
to say yes to life,
broken keys never chime.
My first poem was about flowing-
the way a corpse
floats till it rots-
its meter all askew
and its lyrics frayed thoughts;
its raw nakedness was a fright.
My first poem was about the dark-
it consumed all light.
My first poem was not
supposed to be 'me.'
But alas, it was
and thus, didn't come out right.

Monday, 28 November 2016


You say you try (to explain).
as if explanations
imply understanding.

You say you bother (to ask)
as if questions
really care for answers.

You say you are (depressed)
as if all light got trapped inside
the black hole that is your mind.

You say you make (believe)
as if imagination could be
a permanent refuge.

You say you know (happiness)
as if, they have, after all
found a cure for common cold.

Tuesday, 22 November 2016

Schrödiger's Thought

I was wondering if you'd know where to find me 
if you'd know how if you'd know why 
if you'd know how much of me was still left to look for.

I was wondering if you'd trek mountains or descend valleys 
or comb forests or sweep beaches or surf waves or 
if you'd abandon me midway 
if the idea of me would  vaporize.

I was wondering if you'd call me names and play blame games 
if you'd realize the futility if you knew lost meant gone 
if you'd label someone lost a lost cause.

I was wondering if once you discovered that someone wasn't 
who you thought they were, 
the search was over or if it had just begun.

I was wondering if you could figure out that the only place 
we could lose ourselves was our selves; 
I was wondering if that was precisely 
where we could hope to be found.

Wednesday, 5 October 2016


People aren't just people.

People become friends. 
And best friends. And more.
People become fate, intertwined with yours.

People become your first kiss.
And warmth on cold January mornings. 
People become engagement rings.

People become comforting hugs. 
And flavored names that taste 
all different on your tongue. 
People become unsaid words.

People become favourite pictures.
And bare it all sleepovers. 
In time, people become scriptures.

People become the loudest cheers.
And a lifetime of your best years.
Unbidden, some people become tears.

People become magic.
People become cherished things.
People, when they are your kind, become bliss.

People become faraway journeys.
And skies and seas and so many stories.

People aren't just people. 

Because people, inevitably, become memories.

Friday, 2 September 2016

The Ultimate Victor

Of all the colours on the planet, I believe I am the most powerful. I am the only one who can impregnate the night sky with stars. If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be able to tell the dawn from the dusk.

I am an anti-ageing solution; people use me to dye their graying tresses back to youthfulness.

I am a wardrobe essential- from corporate wear to cocktail dresses, I never fail.

I am the deepest, darkest shade of the iris. I am the asphalt that paves the roads across the globe. I am here and there and everywhere. You cannot have a day without me. Or, to be more precise, a night.

I am black.

So, I was obviously enraged when ‘green’ came to me the other day, challenging me, claiming to be the most widespread colour on the face of the earth. It was easy to make him see light, though. The world’s forest cover is diminishing and the roads forever expanding.

I am leading the race. 

‘Yellow’ proudly boasted of the sun’s far reaching light and sought to establish dominance. But, it didn’t know that the 23.5 degrees tilt of the earth’s axis leaves half the world grappling with the dark, at any given point of time.

I still lead.

The blues of the sky failed simply because they kept switching shades throughout the day. Such insecurity about one’s own identity…tch tch.

There’s no beating me.

But, then came red. A colour that has terrified me, has kept me on tenterhooks like never before. Carrying death in its wake of terror, leaving a trail of blood everywhere from Nice in France to Baghdad in Iraq to Dhaka in Bangladesh, to Syria, to Pakistan to almost every nook and corner of the world, it is my toughest competitor.

But, I remain unbeaten.
Do you know why?

For every person who dies, there are so many mourners.

Death may be bathed in red, but the mourners at funerals still swear by black.

Saturday, 6 August 2016

Review- Story of a Suicide

According to World Health Organisation (WHO), worldwide over 8 lakh people die due to suicide annually. These are the successful attempts. There are millions of attempts that result in failure. For the lucky ones, it may be followed by brief hospitalization, counseling sessions and convalescence.  For the unfortunate, there may be or lifelong impairment, both mental and physical, for the self as well as near and dear ones.  

Suicide was the second leading cause of death for 15-29 year olds in 2012. In the same year, India topped the charts with the highest number of suicides, globally.

Sriram Ayer’s ambitious book, The Story of a Suicide, turns this impersonal statistic into a relatable story where complex characters battle it out to make their lives fulfilling, happy and worthwhile.

A youth centric novel, it appears to be a bold and upfront take on a lot of issues that plague our society, but are often christened as taboos and thus, rarely discussed with such frankness and candour.

The Story
When a novel begins with, “Dear World, I am going to die,” you cannot help but read further. What follows is a well crafted narrative which keeps you hooked till the end.
It is essentially the tale of four people, Hari, Charu, Mani and Sam, whose lives, apparently distinct at first, come together inside the premises of the fictional KIT College. Their paths cross in a deftly woven web of love, passion, friendship, deceit, revenge, sexuality, hope and hurt and the reader journeys along, reveling in their highs and being disturbed by their lows.

The characters
I would assign five on five stars to Ayer for masterfully creating characters, each of whom has shades of grey.
There are layers to the happy go lucky Charu, whose mood swings transform her from vulnerable and needy to passionate and defiant in an instant. Hari has a dark past which follows him everywhere he goes, and no amount of love and care from his adorable father and his ever supportive sister can erase his trauma. Mani is battling his demons, too and so an unlikely bond unites the two of them in their journey of self discovery. Sam comes across as highly arrogant and conceited- a typical rich spoilt brat who often crosses his limits.
The supporting characters like Hari’s father; his sister, Anju; Professor Alex; Sam’s friend, Aditya are crafted meticulously too. The subplots are interesting and keep the flow going.

The illustrations
Illustrations by Ghana accompany each chapter. In-text illustrations are skillfully done and portray the essence of the chapters quite well. Check out one of my favourites, that of a matador and his bull:

What I liked about the book

1.      The book explores unconventional themes, often at the risk of sounding too forthcoming. I am positive that it is a sign of times to come where we won’t shy away from debating topics such as homosexuality, cyber bullying, sexual assault, et al openly. Kudos to the author for a free, fair and frank insight into these topics.
2.     I give full marks to the book for being so relatable at times- “I am sad. I am tired. Helpless. Disillusioned. Paranoid. Unhappy. Sorry, it would not do justice if I just gave only one adjective to describe my hurt.The author knows his way into the minds of a young adult at the threshold of change, in their life.
3.      The little links at the end of each chapter, guiding the youth, and trying to answer their pressing questions about self, identity, individuality and relationships. A special applause for Youth Ki Aawaz for this kind of initiative. Sample this one:
4.      A balanced mix of descriptive writing with dialogues. This gives the story an inimitable pace. I finished the book in two sittings, straight.
5.      Simple language, beautiful artwork.

What I didn’t like about the book

1.      At a lot of places, there are typos which may distract a reader and cause irritation. Nothing that a good proof reading can’t cure.
2.      The ending seemed to be hastened and too abrupt. After building up such a thick plot, you begin to expect the author to have a solid climax ready, which I found missing.
3.      Reading the book online drained my smartphone’s battery much more; so I would love if they could come out with an e book that can be read offline. This is more of a technical grievance, so I’ll let it be. J

The book is a good read, and I rate it 3.5/5.

My tips on dealing with life

1.      Find a hobby, a passion, anything that makes you happy to be alive. It could be listening to music, watching a sitcoms (do try FRIENDS, if you haven’t, already!), reading books, talking with your family, walking, gardening, painting, or anything that floats your boat!
Give it at least 10 minutes every day, no matter what your schedule. You will feel joyful and energized.

2.      Every night, before you go to sleep, make a Gratitude List. Pen down whatever you are grateful for. When you start to count your blessings, life begins to feel like one.

3.      Spend time with people who love you. No matter what your age, real human contact beats virtual connectedness, any day.

4.      Spend less time online. It works wonders for me personally. It relieves the eyes and brain from continuous stress and helps you live healthier.

5.      Drink more water, at regular intervals. It calms you down, soothes anxiety, brings you back to the present and helps you focus, without worrying.
6.      Learn something new every day. Sign up for lessons at sites like Highbrow ( or subscribe to YouTube channels relevant to your area of interest.  
7.      Spread love. Smile. Leave people better than how you found them. Tell people how you feel about them, and manage relationships well.
8.      Last and the greatest of all, find a PURPOSE to your life. Lord Buddha said, “Your purpose in life is to find your purpose in life and give your heart and soul to it.”

There is a lot of good awaiting us all in life. People need you. The world needs you.
Richard Bach, my favourite writer, says, “Here’s a test to find out if your mission on earth is finished or not. If you’re alive, it isn’t.”
Don’t be a sad statistic; be a stellar storyJ

Tuesday, 2 August 2016

Between The Lines- July 2016

My column 'Between the Lines' for July 2016 issue of Rising Litera e magazine 
Feedback welcome. 

Link to download the issue:

Monday, 1 August 2016

ELJ Write Now: A 31/31 Project of Found Poetry (part 6)

Hi, there! :)

I am participating in a 31 day challenge of found poetry under ELJ Write Now (on the beach) project.

Here are the links to my work for Jul 26- Jul 31, 2016! I completed the challenge successfully :)

Day 26- Roll the dice

Day 27- What Love Was

Day 28- Big Bang

Day 29- Afloat

Day 30- Kaleidoscope

Day 31- Dear Dream

Happy reading! Feedback welcome, as always :)

Saturday, 30 July 2016

ELJ Write Now: A 31/31 Project of Found Poetry (part 5)

Hi, there! :)

I am participating in a 31 day challenge of found poetry under ELJ Write Now (on the beach) project Here are the links to my work for Jul 21- Jul 25, 2016!

Stay tuned for more :)

Day 21- Negotiations

Day 22- Become Wind

Day 23- Apology

Day 24- Anticipation

ADay 25- Betrayal

Happy reading! Feedback welcome, as always :)

Thursday, 28 July 2016

ELJ Write Now: A 31/31 Project of Found Poetry (part 4)

Hi, there! :)

I am participating in a 31 day challenge of found poetry under ELJ Write Now (on the beach) project Here are the links to my work for Jul 16- Jul 20, 2016!

Stay tuned for more :)

Day 16- Oblivion

Day 17- Revenge

Day 18- Patience

Day 19- Roads

Day 20- After the war, the refugee

Happy reading! Feedback welcome, as always :)

Tuesday, 26 July 2016

ELJ Write Now: A 31/31 Project of Found Poetry (part 3)

Hi, there! :)

I am participating in a 31 day challenge of found poetry under ELJ Write Now (on the beach) project Here are the links to my work for Jul 11- Jul 15, 2016!

Stay tuned for more :)

Day11- Relativity (accepted for publication here: )

Day 12- Conversation

Day 13- Discretion

Day 14- How to make a poem

Day 15- Before you fall apart

Happy reading! Feedback welcome, as always :)

Friday, 15 July 2016

ELJ Write Now: A 31/31 Project of Found Poetry (part 2)

Hi, there! :)

I am participating in a 31 day challenge of found poetry under ELJ Write Now (on the beach) project Here are the links to my work for Jul 6- Jul 10, 2016!

Stay tuned for more :)

Day 6- Journeys

Day 7- Threshold

Day 7- Album

Day 8- Intoxication

Day 9- Old Friends

Day 10- Gratitude

As always, feedback welcome :)

Wednesday, 13 July 2016

ELJ Write Now: A 31/31 Project of Found Poetry

Hi, there! :)

I am participating in a 31 day challenge of found poetry under ELJ Write Now (on the beach) project Here are the links to my work for Jul 1- Jul 5, 2016!

Stay tuned for more :)

Day 1- Time

Day 2- Before and After

Day 3- Misgivings

Day 4- Moving On

Day 5- The Rescue

As always, feedback welcome <3 Thank you!

Sunday, 10 July 2016

Poems inside

(For those who ask me why I write; for the strangers in the Delhi Metro who take liberty to stare into my phone when I am typing away a poem/note and then compliment; for myself. )


There is a poem inside me
that stays
awake long after everyone
has gone to sleep,
that speaks
in tongues unfamiliar to me,
that breathes
in tandem with the rise and
fall of my chest,
that screams
when the night is quiet and almost dead.
There is a poem inside me that rests.

There is a poem inside me
that sees
a fire where ashes used to be,
that dreams
of a phoenix where
flames ceased to be,
that hears
a sound in the stillness of silence,
that cheers
hopes already tired and spent,
that jeers
at me for being oblivious,
that tears
at my heart with a tremendous
ache that refuses to mend.
There is a poem inside me that rests.

There is a poem inside me
that longs
to know the melody to your song,
that wants
to sing the lyrics back to you,
that taunts
me with what you mean to me
that haunts
my being with memories
which keep on stretching but do not bend.
There is a poem inside me that rests.

There is a poem inside me
that heals
as much as it hurts,
that steals
but is worthy of trust,
that hands
me the keys to the universe
that paints
stories, shapes up words.

There is a poem inside me
that understands
the whole of this wide world.
There is a poem inside me
that people say
they spell like love.

Thursday, 30 June 2016

Between The Lines- June 2016

Back with my column, 'Between the Lines' in Resurgam Magazine (June, 2016)
This month's poem relates to music :)
(Reading order- column wise from left to right, and then, the para at the bottom.)
Link to download:

Wednesday, 29 June 2016

Anonymous Identity

I am sunbeam caught in glass,
I make many a wildfire.
I make fury appear tame,
I am the edge of desire.

I am the first drop of dew,
I make the morning rise.
I am a cloak of darkness,
I make them starry, the skies.

I am a peal of laughter,
I make all your ghosts die.
I make journeys exciting,
I am the last mile.

I am a sky full of stardust,
I make the heavens divine.
I am a firefly,
I make your nights shine.

I am an elusive metaphor,
I make wild goose chases look promising.
I make storms worthwhile,
I am the silver lining.

(An experiment where each line of the poem begins with 'I am' or 'I make.' Also, intentional rhyme scheme after a long time. Feedback welcome!)


Learn how to say goodbye
through every storm that would pass.
Late at night,
or early in the morning, strip
yourself bare. Crumble
to the ground
in an explosion of tears. Slowly,
start to separate
your silver headed self;
through the quicksand of grief, settle
into stillness. Dream
of a love that shines,
the dance of light
through windows. Whisper
to the full blue moon:
Now is the time
to move.
Learn how to say goodbye
through every storm that would pass.
Our story will always be ours.
Even in the goodbye.

(A found poem from the words and phrases appearing in this article:…/this-is-how-we-say-goodbye/ )

Second Chances

You could have been an unknown,
small town, power bereft
railway station
where no coach and no wagon
ever stops. 
You could have been forgotten thoughts
and a season 
snatched by oblivion.
You could have been a drought
stricken field-
the lush, bountiful greens
burnt to sienna and marred

by elusive rains, 
then charred
to a black none would see.
You could have been the
distant rumble
of an angry quake, the
immediate tumble
of bricks and buildings and beings-
a fiery tremor to shake
people out of sleep.
You could have been the silence
before the storm
and the rough rush
of rains born
of split, scorching skies.
You could have been a 
steady, salty downpour from the eyes.
You could have been the troughs
and crests of waves 
upon violent seas-
an untrammeled, untamed fury
descending, devouring the whole
of your unsuspecting city.
You could have been
a missed train
and an unfinished story
and a pen that ran out of ink.
You could have been
spilled coffee on a date
and spoilt conversations
and a mind that forgot to think.
Of all the things you could be,
when did you become poetry?
(for all those who survived the worst and didn't give up)

Not a cliche (part 2)

You were a memory
stronger, stranger and sweeter
than all my memories combined.
And even though that's a
clichéd thing to say,
there was nothing clichéd
about reading with you, precariously
atop your balcony ledges,
listening to page after page
and footstep after footstep run
then pause, and hover
in search of companions
only to run again to
unknown destinations. 
Today, when I have left,
having gathered
learning beyond what my mind
could measure,
may I thank you
for all the ways in which
you've mattered?
And pluck from each brick, each leaf,
each gulmohar petal,
each lecture, each trip, each bunk,
each canteen table,
memories to last me a lifetime?
And even though fishing for memories
is a clichéd way to be,
there was nothing clichéd
about what you mean to me.
You were a memory
stronger, stranger and sweeter
than all my memories combined.
And you were not a cliché.
(For the best place with the best memories; for SRCC)

Tuesday, 14 June 2016

Not a cliche (part 1)

You were
a home away from home
and even though that’s a clichéd thing to say,
there was nothing clichéd
about the comforts I found,
lazing around
in your lawns, spreading themselves out
like unabashed arms,
anticipating a hug.
Today, as I leave,
here's the tightest hug that’s ever been…
should I wrap it up for you, SRCC,
in layers and layers of thanks
crossed and knotted with love?
Will you envelop me in this hug
for one last time
as I cry?
And will you hear
in this teary eyed goodbye,
everything I ever wanted to confess,
all the things that still need to be said?
And even though goodbyes
are pretty clichéd to wave,
there was nothing clichéd about the sunrays
that greeted me with light
as I stepped inside you, everyday.
You were
a home away from home
and you were not a cliché! 
(for my alma mater) :)

Tuesday, 22 March 2016

Sau baatein karta ye buddhu sa mann hai :)

With this review, I hope to reverse the sequence reviews usually follow. So, here is my verdict about easily the best, most sensible, most beautifully put together family drama in recent times- it is a mast must watch. (four stars, okay?)

‘Kapoor and Sons’ impressed me, and no, it wasn’t solely because of a cute-and- droolworthy-as-ever Fawad Khan or an equally adorable Siddharth Malhotra. The movie made me laugh (a lot, lot, lot) and cry (just a little, but oh, it was for real!)

So, here is the movie summed up for you. You can read if you haven’t watched it yet, (no spoilers, I promise) so I can motivate you to spend your hard earned money without any regrets! J
And if you have watched it already, congratulations on a wise decision :P

1.      The plot
An atypical (or is it?) Indian family is brought together by the news of dear granddad’s heart attack. You have a father struggling to overcome financial concerns, a mother fed up of all the drama and two warring/loving brothers, Rahul and Arjun, in Fawad and Siddharth, respectively.  ( A Karan-Arjun equation, by all means, but the trailer told you so!) There is the extended family with chachu and chachi and two sweet sisters, too.
And yes, the quintessential pet dog completes the ‘happy’ family!
So when they all assemble under one roof in Coonoor, you have to expect more than just colourful fireworks. Explosions, perhaps?

2.      The characters
A granddad who practices dying and makes funny faces while calling the nurse names from his hospital bed; who watches porn and takes selfies using his iPad; who brings the family together and as a death wish, orders the whole bunch to pose for that perfect family portrait bearing the caption ‘Kapoor and Sons, since 1921.’
A father who provides, but has a lot to hide.
A mother who thinks, over thinks, reacts and over reacts; who makes mistakes, but who tries to hold the family together and breaks when it breaks apart.
Rahul, the elder brother, the perfect baccha, the successful novelist who hopes to replicate the impact of his previous master stroke. However, he isn’t the only one crafting stories. And his life story is a well kept secret.
Arjun, the younger brother, who tries to find himself, running away from his loved ones only to realize they are all he has, at the end. Tia, the love of his life, the effervescent sweetheart who is everyone’s sunshine despite battling her internal storms.
Watch the movie for the layers and nuances that the characters are enriched with. The world was never black and white. Grey is a common colour that runs through us all.

3.      The actors
Rajat Kapoor is a natural in the role of the exasperated father, while Ratna Pathak Shah dons the mother’s place perfectly. Rishi Kapoor keeps you entertained throughout with his antics as the silly, jovial grandpa and his comic timing is perfect, though a little crass at times! :P
Alia is her delightful pretty self. The girl next door thing suits her well, though I am getting a little bored of her doing similar roles. And the fact that she can muster up a Highway makes me expect a lot more.
Siddharth is charming. And you do end up feeling sorry for him while he is trying to make stuff work. A good performance. Aaaaannnnnd, the less I say about Fawad, the more you will enjoy the movie. We could very well be heading for a fifth super Khan in Bollywood- the guy steals the show even in a multi starrer. And I may be biased, but for me, he was the best thing about the 2.5 hours I spent in the cinema hall.   

4.      The music
The inimitable blend of catchy, peppy, upbeat, and soul stirring.  While Chull has already achieved cult status and a dedicated fan following, the  foot tapping Buddhu sa Mann won me over with its festive picturisation and cheerful vibe. Bolna can be heard in the backdrop of Arjun and Tia’s romance, but I would have preferred a more prominent place for the song. Towards the end, Saathi Rey gives you the feels and it is one of the tracks that grow on you, slowly and steadily.

5.      The setting
Beautiful cinematography with the locales of Coonoor displayed at their most brilliant.

6.      Best scene
The family breaks into a fight at a time when the plumber is at his wit’s end, fixing a leak and listening to their raised voices, and shattering glasses. Once he’s done and asked to quote his charges, he replies, “Ab is bure samay mein jo  sahi lage, de dijiye.”
And, at the very beginning of this fight (there are lots in the movie) Siddharth exclaims, “Kya baat hai, aaj sab mere bina hi shuru ho gaye?”
Epic dialogue delivery :P

7.      The impact
Do we ever know our families? Do we care enough to know about their jobs, their passion, their struggles, their loneliness, their wishes, their dreams, their hopes? Or are we so busy crafting a charade of perfection that we are swept away by the currents of our own deceptions?
The movie teaches you to never take your loved ones for granted, no matter what flaws they might suffer from. Because, in the end, as they always say, love conquers all.

Done reading? Now go, go, go, watch it J

Wednesday, 10 February 2016


Fractions crave completion.
There is something about a 0.99 that implicitly longs for another 0.01 to make it whole.
Reciprocals crave reciprocals.
The universe craves unity.

Heavy, drooping eyelids crave sleep.
There is something about tiredness that longs for rest and quiet.
Each malady longs for its cure.

Entrapment craves freedom.
There is something about a butterfly struggling to break away from the death grip of a mischievous child.
Restraint longs for liberation.

Night skies crave constellations.
There is something about the needle-points of light from millions of years ago which still shows lost humans the way.
The lost long for direction.

You are my fitting reciprocal, my last 0.01.
You are dreamless sleep, my inimitable peace.
You are the Pole Star, helping me find my way at a tumultuous, treacherous sea.

In my aloneness, I long for you.

I crave you the way craving craves to be craved.

Saturday, 23 January 2016

Trust Issues

I grew up with a stereotypical dose of measured warnings not to be friendly with strangers and not to place my faith in anybody unless and until I was well acquainted with them. Leading a sheltered, protected life till date, I have often wondered why the world does not deserve my unquestioning acceptance, my total trust.

I have often wondered why, when we meet someone new, the instinct is to fence ourselves and erect a wall of opposition rather than pour out love and honesty into our cursory, pretentious handshakes.
I used to think that people are scared of people, of letting them in, of opening up, of confessing things to them and broadly, of having to deal with pain later on in life. I was wrong. An absence of trust does not come from fearing others. It stems from fearing our own selves.

The world, basically, hinges on trust. 

You show up at school. The territory is strange and frightening. A grown up lady smiles and offers her hand. You have no option but to take it, so you do. For all the years you learn to count and spell, she ensures you develop to the best of your potential. She does this for you, not just for herself. Today, you make a point to thank her, every Teachers’ Day.

You apply for jobs; blurt out details after details about yourself, your passion, your ideas and your dreams before hostile interviewers. You get tired. Then, one day, you get placed. When you are promoted, your recruiter throws you a party. You learn every friend was once a stranger.

You see a first timer trying to figure out an escalator. You extend your hand; they clasp it firmly without second thoughts. They are aboard. You rise up together, and they leave with a grateful smile.
You board an auto-rickshaw, knowing nothing of the driver’s past, present or future. You speak out the unfamiliar address you have to reach.  He turns the meter down and off you go, trusting him to deliver you safely to your destination. You arrive, hand over the money and sometimes, bother to say thanks.

You ask the solitary jogger on the street for directions to a friend’s house you haven’t visited in a long time. He points you to the house, simplifying the route so you don’t get lost in the darkness of the dawn. You are glad he was passing by.  

You call up the ambulance and have no idea who picks up the phone. Within minutes, the siren is blazing at your doorstep. The doctors at the hospital manage to defeat the heart attack that almost killed your dad. They tell you timely action can save lives in most cases. You breathe a long held sigh of relief.

You make a pen-pal who lives 6000 kilometers away. You picture her going about her daily life as you bitch to her about your boss. You invite her to your wedding. You don’t really expect her to come. She shows up beforehand, to help you get prepared.

The world hinges on trust.

Yes, there are people who will abuse your faith only to bring you down and make selfish gains. Yes, there are people who will be sugarcoated pills. Yes, there will be people who can be dangerous to get close to.

Nonetheless, distrust can close windows which are actually letting light in.

That said, I am not asking you to blindly make the best of friends with strangers. I am only advising not to keep yourself locked in and label others before getting to know them.

Kindness is an inherent human virtue. Nobody is cruel by birth. Infants smile at you when you smile at them. Grown-ups aren’t that different. And, each person on the planet has their demons plaguing them, knocking the daylights out of them, plunging them into whirlpools of sorrow and despair.

So, be gentle, instead of being accusatory. Try to look a little further than the exterior and appreciate the circumstances people come from. And, most importantly, stop fearing yourself, so that you can have the courage to keep your trust in humanity, when you meet someone new… the way you already do.  J