Joy was patting a dog just outside a temple.
Joy's mom said, "Stop behaving like a kid. Grow up."
Joy looked at her confused.
She told Joy not to pat the dog. The people around shooed it away.
Joy said, "You pour milk on stone. Why can't I pat a living creature?"
Joy received a death stare from mom.
**End of conversation**

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Joy’s therapist says that according to Elizabeth Ross, there are five stages of grief, namely, denial, anger, bargain, depression and finally, acceptance.
But Joy wonders, “What happens after acceptance? Does grief come to an end?”
“Unfortunately, it doesn’t. But, healing can truly begin only after acceptance.”

[read caption]

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"Ain't I a drag?" asked drunk Joy as she rested her back against the gritty LHC terrace floor, simultaneously gesturing her friend to lie down so that she could rest her head on his arm.

"Nooo," answered Kuttan in a slightly high-pitched tone and then resorting to his normal voice, "You are like my little sister and I love you. It's just that I don't like the smell of alcohol," he clarified staring at the deep blue sky with bright white dots as he lay down beside Joy extending one of his arms so that it served as a pillow for her.

(The rest of the incident in caption.)

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ನನ್ನ ಬಿಟ್ಟು ಹೋಗಬೇಡ, ಅಮ್ಮ.

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a place which I can call home.

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Joy ordered 180mL of Old Monk and diluted approximately 60mL of it with Thums Up in the ratio 1:10, plus two chunks of ice while watching RCB vs KKR match. Yes, the perfect combination for her sensitive taste buds and her love for the team representing her birthland, Bengaluru.

(The rest of the incident in caption.)

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Sometimes, there really is no right or wrong decision. It is upto you to make sure that you don't regret your choice.

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Ever happened that you decide to do something but don't know why you want to do it and later on come up with reasons just to explain your decision to others and sometimes even to yourself?

Damn, I hate it whenever that happens.

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" ",
complained the little girl.

"Be one,"
said the doting, wise father.

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I was overflowing with emotions. I had to express myself but I had no one who would hear me out without judging or worrying about me, except me. Thus began my journey of writing.

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