Dear Breath,

I don’t know how it feels to have this love-hate relationship with someone like me, who has ignored your existence for the bigger chunk of my life.

Your existence in my life so far was just like that obedient wife, who never demanded anything in return and yet yearns for that one glance.

When our love became triangle, with entry of meditation, I finally had a first look at you. It felt like all this while I was living in Kashmir with a blindfold.

The moment I casted my first glance at you and inhaled deeper, you injected me with a contagious warmth which filled the void in me.

All this while, I was looking for serenity, resilience and simplicity, and yet never realised that all I needed to do was to feel you deeper; eyes open or eyes closed, doesn’t matter now.

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1. Giving up is not about choosing, but about being chosen.

2. What are you scared of?

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Ever said “hello” to a muse?
Well i did.
But the question here is: did the muse say “hello” back?

To me, it didn’t. Mostly it smirks and challenges me to confine it on paper with boundaries of ink. Her non-verbals scare me. She is like that sand, which slips off if you try to hold it in hands.

There are days when she sits silently with me as if she has decided to marry me, but the moment i take out my pen, it begins to sizzle out. Just like the Betal and I often wonder, ain’t we all are Vikrams for our muses?

Out of 10, there is only one day like this today, where i give a damn about how my muse would react. The moment i stop caring about her response, is the moment my courage speaks louder than words.

What does your rendezvous with muse look like?

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That doesn’t get written,
But is the one which writes us rightly.

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I opened a book.
The book opened me.
Together we closed every other door.

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When I get compliment on my writing after a long time.

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Me ideating for next content

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My excuses to my consistency.

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When I get up in morning because they say, you get the best ideas in morning.

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About deciding not to become
Patient of ego and anger.

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