Shomprakash Sinha Roy's Blog, page 2
April 29, 2014
What makes you smile?
Generic questions,in my experience, have been harder to crack than specific ones. But since the knowledge of my affinity towards challenges has been so vehemently displayed in all my creative pursuits, it’s only fair to assume that I’m prone towards addressing specific questions with a tone of generality.
In context, I refer to a question that I had posed to myself, and to scores of people whose time I have been known to waste on social media, about the loss of a certain ‘smile’. This happened only slightly more than a year back; I was alone and depressed and my writing career at the time, seemed to be headed nowhere. Times have changed since then – Three novels, some great industrial exposure and career jumps later, now I usually find myself smiling, even when people find it socially relevant to complain about the deteriorating weather of Bangalore city. Like all level-headed individuals, I’ve had an urge to explore my reasons for being happy. And it’s important to analyze these things, much as one would be expected to analyze the root causes of any sudden spikes of profit in a business venture. Transitions in the levels of happiness that you live in, are very tough to spot and they don’t sit around like other tangible trends, just waiting to be discovered by the high and mighty.
So, this morning, after I woke up from a nightmare which involved me spraining my right wrist, and after I discovered that I was in fact, sleeping with my wrist resting under my head (hence the nightmare, i guess)- I realized that I had completed a very important milestone in my life, on this date. It’s the first time ever, in my entire life, that I’ve successfully completed one year of a serious relationship. Without a shred of doubt, the most important one in my life so far, and quite hopefully, the one I’ll get to witness as it transcends into an eternity.
What’s the connection, you ask? I’ll explain. (I understand that this ‘explain’ phrase is getting a bit redundant in my conversations these days, but with a spectacular amount of feedback indicating that my thoughts are usually very tightly locked in, I think it’s best to stick to some conventions. The ‘explanation’ thing, is my convention.)
Hum- Ho – Dum!
You see, I grew up through a painfully reclusive childhood, with my only friends being the occasional sitcom episode, Hollywood movie or sometimes, a less-known book. While many would argue that this limited my horizons of thought, I will go on to say that it allowed me to approach a rather global thought process, which in turn affected the way in which I looked at, and evaluated interpersonal relationships. Additionally, after I grew up- my post-pubescent disasters with every sort of emotional blasphemy, meant that I had grown into an extremely unsocial shell. This was right about the time when I asked the world about my missing smile, and the time when I was convinced that I would never be happy (of course, my assumption extended towards all humankind, but that really isn’t the point). I started writing to vent out my anger towards people, whom I believed were responsible for my sorrow. Yes, I did find an exit- but as I hope any wise man would tell you – there’s only a very limited amount of pleasure that you can derive from revenge or any negative emotion. For any form of true happiness to enter your life, you need to cut back from everything that you had your head around, in your past- and move on with something that makes you forget all of it.
On 29th April 2013, I found that. Or rather, she found the raving octopus inside me, which needed to be tamed and brought back to a two-legged form of existence. It started out as something very dismissive, usually people would dismiss it – And I don’t mean dumb people, I mean real sensible people from the real sensible world. It started out with a series of conversations that weren’t intended to be romantic in the first place, but as they say (by they- I mean everyone who knows what it means to be happy) Love always finds a way, especially in places where you’re least looking for it. My interactions with her led me to believe, as I do today, that happiness does not stem from success as the way the world sees around you, it does not come from the pride that you’ve nurtured in your head all your life. It doesn’t spring out of the wells of pleasure that you try and dig every day. It doesn’t come from meaningless pursuit of desires. Happiness, the way I’ve known it, can only come from the existence of true, unadulterated love in your life. It doesn’t ask you to give up on your dreams, but it manages to take precedence over everything else, whether or not you planned it that way. When you’re in a relationship that’s meant to be, you automatically realize that nothing else in your life is as important as holding onto it, nurturing it.
It grows like a sapling, in the garden of your thoughts, and blossoms in your heart. And then, one fine morning, when you wake up from a nightmare, you figure out that you’ve been living the best dream of your life for a year. It adds meaning to your life.
And then, you smile.
Oh and yes :D Happy One Year, baby.
Love,
Shom
March 13, 2014
Where The Mind Is Without Fear
I think it’s time I started believing in God, for real. Because Life, Experience and Google really don’t have all the answers. Almost every respectable immortal soul, had at one point of time or the other, commented on the importance of a dilemma that rises up inside our own selves. Not minor dilemmas like choosing the right color of clothing on a Monday. A dilemma where you ask yourself if everything that you’ve done or everything that you stand for, is worth believing in. If I, as an individual, am capable of looking at myself in the mirror and telling myself that I’m doing the right thing. All my life, I’ve told myself that logic prevails, that the foundation of being a good human being, lies in being logical. If I try to connect myself with the idea of an omnipresent god, I must accept that she/he is logical, and so must I. And it doesn’t make sense to be vague or abstract in matters that relate to the soul, because it’s not just one answer that I seek.
I write, because I feel it’s the right thing to do. I breathe, because I believe that my life serves a certain purpose. I go to work every day because I believe it makes sense to give back to the community that helped me survive in my darkest hour. I love, because love triumphs all. But above all, to everyone that I may have knowingly or unknowingly hurt in my twenty three years of existence, I apologize. I am young, and a novice in all forms of existential mechanisms. There are a million things that I probably don’t understand, and every day is a struggle to overcome that state of being naive. I apologize to any of my readers who weren’t satisfied with the material that I’ve written upon. I apologize to my parents for the consistent battles of solitude that I force them into, during my outbursts. I apologize to all women-kind in general, for the galactic amount of disrespect and/or pain that I may have caused. I apologize to the god of logic, wherever she/he exists, because my dilemma leads me to believe that I am a miserable failure in that department.
I apologize to every human being whose lives could have been a little better, had I built on my conviction to help them, despite my own shadows of closed-loop thoughts. I apologize to each passing second of time, where I don’t justify my existence as a man. For me, there has always been one pledge and one pledge only. I think, at times, recalling the one true ‘mantra’ in your life brings you at par with who you are, for real. And that goes beyond Google. I really believe in these few lines, and I believe in everyone who understands the importance of these words.
Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high;
Where knowledge is free;
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls;
Where words come out from the depth of truth;
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection;
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit;
Where the mind is led forward by thee into ever-widening thought and action;
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.
I don’t have a plea to anyone, because copping a plea has seldom worked for even lesser souls on this plant. I only have a prayer. Let logic prevail. Whatever is right in this world, should be given the voice and ability to thrive and survive. And I want to end this terrible rant with some of the best lines by The Beatles.
When I find myself in times of trouble
Mother Mary comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be
And in my hour of darkness
She is standing right in front of me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be
Let it be, let it be
Let it be, let it be
Whisper words of wisdom, let it be
And when the broken hearted people
Living in the world agree
There will be an answer, let it be
For though they may be parted
There is still a chance that they will see
There will be an answer, let it be.
Chitto Jetha Bhoyeshunyo (Where The Mind Is Without Fear)
I think it’s time I started believing in God, for real. Because Life, Experience and Google really don’t have all the answers. Almost every respectable immortal soul, had at one point of time or the other, commented on the importance of a dilemma that rises up inside our own selves. Not minor dilemmas like choosing the right color of clothing on a Monday. A dilemma where you ask yourself if everything that you’ve done or everything that you stand for, is worth believing in. If I, as an individual, am capable of looking at myself in the mirror and telling myself that I’m doing the right thing. All my life, I’ve told myself that logic prevails, that the foundation of being a good human being, lies in being logical. If I try to connect myself with the idea of an omnipresent god, I must accept that she/he is logical, and so must I. And it doesn’t make sense to be vague or abstract in matters that relate to the soul, because it’s not just one answer that I seek.
I write, because I feel it’s the right thing to do. I breathe, because I believe that my life serves a certain purpose. I go to work every day because I believe it makes sense to give back to the community that helped me survive in my darkest hour. I love, because love triumphs all. But above all, to everyone that I may have knowingly or unknowingly hurt in my twenty three years of existence, I apologize. I am young, and a novice in all forms of existential mechanisms. There are a million things that I probably don’t understand, and every day is a struggle to overcome that state of being naive. I apologize to any of my readers who weren’t satisfied with the material that I’ve written upon. I apologize to my parents for the consistent battles of solitude that I force them into, during my outbursts. I apologize to all women-kind in general, for the galactic amount of disrespect and/or pain that I may have caused. I apologize to the god of logic, wherever she/he exists, because my dilemma leads me to believe that I am a miserable failure in that department.
I apologize to every human being whose lives could have been a little better, had I built on my conviction to help them, despite my own shadows of closed-loop thoughts. I apologize to each passing second of time, where I don’t justify my existence as a man. For me, there has always been one pledge and one pledge only. I think, at times, recalling the one true ‘mantra’ in your life brings you at par with who you are, for real. And that goes beyond Google. I really believe in these few lines, and I believe in everyone who understands the importance of these words.
Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high;
Where knowledge is free;
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls;
Where words come out from the depth of truth;
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection;
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit;
Where the mind is led forward by thee into ever-widening thought and action;
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.
I don’t have a plea to anyone, because copping a plea has seldom worked for even lesser souls on this plant. I only have a prayer. Let logic prevail. Whatever is right in this world, should be given the voice and ability to thrive and survive. And I want to end this terrible rant with some of the best lines by The Beatles.
When I find myself in times of trouble
Mother Mary comes to me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be
And in my hour of darkness
She is standing right in front of me
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be
Let it be, let it be
Let it be, let it be
Whisper words of wisdom, let it be
And when the broken hearted people
Living in the world agree
There will be an answer, let it be
For though they may be parted
There is still a chance that they will see
There will be an answer, let it be.
March 6, 2014
About Crimson Nightmares
The following series of thoughts are just random sequences, and don’t really mean anything unless you try to follow a pattern.
#1 The dry winter of 1999 gave Kabir Gupta no relief. While the world was busy celebrating the turn of the millennium, he tried to keep himself busy counting his change, to the last rupee in his pocket. As he observed the dedication with which winter birds seem to migrate, he wondered whether life would be immensely better or just a tad simpler, if he had wings. He had spent a good part of the last decade, immersed in the perpetual decor of his own daydreams, aided by nothing but subsidized rations and murky bottled water.
It was a hot afternoon, and he realized that he had been staring all along, at the underage ice cream vendor across the street. Kabir laughed a bit on the inside, because he knew that his temptations were very sly; They never cared to venture outside the shady realms of his shabby existence. To the world, he was just a name. There was no glam quotient that he could successfully claim, by wielding his face upon the nonchalant gaze of onlookers.
He wasn’t very religious, and hardly believed in making requisitions via prayer. Mostly, it seemed absurd to him because he didn’t really know what to ask for. Every time someone took him to a temple and expected him to join the crowd as they bowed down in submission to the almighty, he felt utterly confused. He wasn’t happy enough to sing every day. But he wasn’t too sad. Life wasn’t all about living through wax-polished Bentleys and drinking twelve year old single malt scotch, like some of his customers. Kabir knew, that somewhere in the calculated sheets of god-like men, there remained a tiny speck of hope for people like him.
And somewhere, men who behaved like gods were busy, involuntarily churning out everything that was needed to make Kabir’s life a lot more alluring. Only, he didn’t know anything about it. Not until the millennium turned.
#2 Rani’s stand on filtered coffee hadn’t changed over the years. To her, anything more than three tablespoons of sugar defined the kind of luxury that she would strive to stay away from. In her present environs, she felt very uncomfortable as she watched Kabir fill up his own cup with four sugar cubes.
“That’s enough!” She said, and then realized that it was an involuntary reflex. Kabir looked around with a swift movement of his eyeballs and then proceeded to look directly into her eyes. She averted his gaze.
“Is that your own brand of dietary wisdom?” He asked her, smiling feebly, and then immediately started rubbing his jaw. The lower right hand side was still sore. Rani didn’t reply.
“Sugar is an enhancer, Kabir. You’d feel a lot less dizzy if you took some black coffee.” She tried to look down as she said the words. It wasn’t as if she felt guilty; her emotions were almost always bottled up, covered in too many layers, and they never stirred or moved the tiniest bit, based on any internal stimuli. She was a big fan of factual logic. She had offered this man a cup of coffee because she was responsible for his present state of misery. A nearly broken jaw was hardly the kind of surprise that you can thrust on someone who’s waiting to be interviewed.
“Kabir, I know we started off on a bad note, but I need to know if…” She began, almost as if she had prepared the words by rote (She had.)
“Are you serious? You’re going to do the interview now? After you sucker-punched me in the face? Screw you, Rani.. Rani.. hey, what’s your full name again?”
She flinched at the tiny expletive, but chose not to react. The man had just been taken off his morphine drip, after all. He was entitled to an unrestricted stream of swear words if he wanted.
“Indrani Bakshi” She uttered, and then stared at her bruised hands & wondered if that name really meant anything, anymore.
The Facial Sucker-Punch
#3 “Do you believe in god?” He asked her.
“I guess.” She said, and her head bobbed up and down, for about half an inch. It may have been a nod.
“Do you also believe that god plays fair? That he plays by the rules?” He prodded on.
“Uh-hun. Where are you going with this?” She sounded weak.
He had that weird determined look on his face again, like he was high or something. Every time she had seen that look on his face, it was almost always about another crazy idea or scheme that he was would crack. But he spoke with authority. His eyes were serene, and his hands didn’t move this time. This time, he meant what he said.
“Well then, look. You were born because someone up there thought it was fair game to let you live. And then, you smiled through your childhood years because those very same people sitting way up in heaven believed, right down to the last drop of divinity, that you should be happy. And now, when you think everything that’s happening to you is unfair, believe this with all your heart. God designed all your troubles, because he knows you’re strong enough to fight through. You were always going to make it to the other side, there is no way that he put you into this unprepared. Now go, fight.”
Peace Out!
March 4, 2014
Tigers Can Fly
When Rudyard Kipling penned down arguably the most exotic creation of this world, he spoke to readers around the globe in a language devoid of human logic. More often than not, there was a wolf involved, who was learning to adapt itself to the hitherto unknown universe of predators. And even though Darwin had already professed his survival theory about a century earlier, Kipling managed to visualize every iota of truth present in that theory, into a colorful world. The currency of blood dictated through his pages was as crucial to the plot, as were the occasional memorabilia about wise owls and aging lions.
That’s the power of literature. In our world, our imagination is perpetually bound to things that we can see, and feel. We observe first, and believe later. In the world of literary fiction, the opposite rule is applicable. You can make stuff happen the way you see it fit. And there are no rules to that effect. A lot of historians have credited William Shakespeare for the invention of numerous adjectives. Someone once remarked- Shakespeare couldn’t find the right word to describe the beauty of a woman, and ended up inventing a whole new word. While writers of the current generation may find it bottom-line absurd to develop or innovate upon an exceedingly limited choice of vocabulary, that practice still remains our best hope towards truly limitless expression. Because literature, and books, and poems- they’re not about repeating words, or syncing them up so that they sound okay. It’s about conveying what you feel, in your weirdest dream, or your most improbable nightmare, and then drawing up words to put your reader in that position. First person narration works when you retain the ability to push your reader from a cliff and letting him/her experience the true joy of flying. And it doesn’t matter if you were born in our time, or an earlier era. As long as you nurture and seek the power of creative defiance, you’re natural in the act of writing.
Some random themes, that can be worked upon, and can be turned into realistic fantasy, for example, would be: Flying Giraffes, Talking Cats, Emotionally susceptible guitars, and so on. The number of plots that you can pick out of these never-ending spirals, is enough to amaze and sustain all your literary critics for three lifetimes. So, quit worrying about how plausible your story is, in the real world. When you’re a writer, you develop your own world. You’re the master, you’re sitting up there, right next to god. And that blank piece of paper in front of you, is your garden of Eden. Go figure!
Write. Write Better. Write and add meaning to anything that sounds ridiculous right now. Make tigers fly. And then revel in the pride of knowing that you have achieved something truly remarkable. Peace out!
November 24, 2013
The Spirit Of Marley Lives On!
The interesting thing about owning a poster of Bob Marley and getting it installed on your bedroom wall, is that it gives you a unlimited amount of perspective about the way you look at the world. Incidentally, powered by the one I love, the poster of jimi hendrix that adorns my bedroom wall has a mole (? I know you’re confused, don’t be) and yet, it looks as serene as any other marley-powered day. The presence of such lovable moles and other lovable elements in my life definitely makes my weekend worth looking forward to! And especially the rain drenched evenings, sans the wet clothes of course. Today was another such evening. Whilst the blessed and not-so-blessed spend time praying for those lost souls affected by Hurricane Helen at Andhra Pradesh, my trusted Bajaj Avenger took me through a less densely explored road this morning. The roads were wet as expected, and people on those roads were a lot more crazed out about the idea of driving through sensitive surfaces. Me too, to an extent. That particularly confusing stretch of roads connecting Sadanandnagar & Kalyannagar & The Outer RIng Road on Bangalore, presented itself in a new light today. I was trying to take my usual route when another bike appeared out of nowhere, blocking my way.
What followed, was a brilliant exposure towards the existence of Marley’s spirit, in some untouched corner. The world still believes in fair play, and that shows. That fellow biker crossed paths with me, and instead of a mouthing-off session like I would genuinely expect in the middle of this city, he gave me a thumbs up and the made peace sign with his palm. Now you tell me if that doesn’t make your day (grins)
Thought for the day : If your weekend was as powerfully seductive as mine, would you not be as eccentric as I am? But then again, love strikes in mysterious ways, right? Good night, All!
Peace out.
May 5, 2013
The things that make sense : The Pink Smoke, and more
Primarily, this blogpost is an apology for a prolonged gap since the last time I wrote something on this feed. I’ve predictably been busy with the edits of “The Pink Smoke” which should hit stores sometime in June, 2013.
There’s a small video we’ve put together – It’s about a minute and a half long, If you have some time to spare, do take a look, and tell us if you like what you see.
As strange as it may seem, this post is inspired by a conversation that I recently had with an old acquaintance. For the purpose of animosity, let’s call her Ms. D.
Ms. D and I had a peculiar interaction, which began on a congratulatory note. Eventually, we managed to move on to things that appeal to me, in my messed up head. We discussed the past, and among other things- the importance of prioritizing issues as they appear through our lives. It’s amusing to note that most of us tend to reserve our best moves for relatively less ‘pressing’ issues, as opposed to the giant errors that need correction (This judgement comes from your own thoughts, so the prioritization must happen in there, too!)
Each one of us possesses a unique ability to deal with problems in our own ways. It can be a person, a place, an object or a situation that our problems are built around. The solutions to these problems, surprisingly aren’t too far in context either. It can be another person, another place, another object or another situation that helps us get out of the aforementioned issues. To clarify, I’m not hinting at any form of escapism. What Osho Rajnish tried to emphasize about inanimate objects can be applied to real world scenarios as well.
For instance, a trivial differential calculus problem that you just can’t seem to crack might just open up for you at your favorite pizzeria. All it takes, is a voluntary acknowledgement of the issue, and some soul-searching to identify a possible solution. And that’s a sure-shot way of moving on towards a bigger thought-process : Ambition.
With that thought, I’m going to conclude this note of apology- mostly because I’m a bit sleepy at this hour, and also because I want to stop rambling on. My love goes out to everyone who has supported the book and the processes revolving around it.
Pre-orders will start soon- Please, grab a copy of “The Pink Smoke” as soon as you discover a way of doing so- bookstores, Flipkart, Infibeam, Homeshop18- I’ll share the links on the ‘Books’ section of this website as soon as they come up. Stay tuned on ‘Lifesourcing’ for all relevant updates in this regard. And yes, tell your friends and fellow fiction enthusiasts! That would be awesome.
Feel free to contact me on info@shomprakash.com for any queries or feedback.
Love and Regards,
Shomprakash Sinha Roy
November 26, 2012
A Brief History of Love
A Brief History of Love
(Shomprakash Sinha Roy)
Behind every veil of distorted smiles, there is a black shadow of deep hatred. Love, in all its glory tries hard to stay afloat in this wonderfully misunderstood world.
Back in the day, it used to be simple.
Q. What is Love?
A. The emotional union of two souls, bound by eternity.
As the days progressed, and as the years piled on the calendar, the definitions began to dissolve and morph into deeper, yet darker sentiments.
Q. What is Love?
A. The physical act of enduring another person’s constant whims and cries over basically nothing.
In the year 1993, the emergence of a popular track changed the way people would look at the concept, forever.
Q. What is Love?
A. Baby don’t hurt me.
When the era of sitcoms began, everyone was relieved to find a fresh outlook for looking at the phenomenon of actually ‘loving’ someone, as opposed to the popular notion of ‘developing a fancy’
So what is love?
Is it the act of looking at a person and deciding that you’re soul-mates? Is it the ramification of all your feelings towards a single creature on this planet- more powerful than anything else that you might’ve felt, ever? Is it the simple connection between a mother and a new born child? Or is it the obvious element of respect that emerges between a couple that has been married for over two decades?
Sadly, Love is all of this- yet no single definition can even begin to describe what Love is capable of doing. I mean, isn’t it the same green-faced lover that pulls a trigger on his beloved, when he finds out about the strength of a betrayal? Doesn’t love try and intervene at that point? When a mother decides to whip her grown up boy with a belt for smoking cigarettes, is love dormant at that stage?
It’s an argument that nobody has ever bothered to justify- the act of Love going against itself. People have tried to sing songs, write books & make movies about it- but not one track, one page or one reel of it has come even close to the meaning that the word once captured. Truly, there is nothing truer than the pain which accompanies love.
What is Love?
Baby don’t hurt me. No more.
November 4, 2012
The Proximity of Pleasure
A book by Joanne Rowling always manages to pick me up when I’m down. And at times when I’m feeling peaceful, it usually adds some extra zing, and then some. If i remember correctly, it was Mrs Rowling whose stories initially pushed me towards literature. And now, the books serve as anesthetics that go a long way in blurring some painful images.
Somewhere, some place other than where I am, there must be a wave of happiness that flows through people. There must be a god who laughs hysterically, looking down at the people who run around in an unknown hurry- trying to jump deeper into their own woven, complex lives. I’m pretty sure that I’ve caught his attention on more than a single occasion- as he looks down on me, he probably doesn’t smile all that much. Perhaps he doesn’t find it quite as much amusing as some of the other stories that he has created. I’m a draft that gets updated once in a while but never gets posted. And my life hangs in the balance like an unscripted blog written by someone who faces a lack of connectivity.
Eccentricity has never been one of my finer talents- And so it would appear, in my daily interactions. But somehow, in the middle of each passing day- whether I’m staring down on my workstation in the afternoon, or sitting by the pavement with a cigarette between my teeth- I’m constantly amazed at the speed at which the world keeps moving past me. My attempts to stop it- or at the very least, try a short pause, seem extremely futile.
Diseases, accidents, careers, habits, routines and pleasures- all of them exist at the same time, blending into one sparkling cocktail of information that keeps buzzing in my head. Sometimes, it’s difficult to track everything down and make sense of it all. At other times, a sense of purpose creeps in- slowly, yet meticulously. It twirls like a torrent in a corner of my head- and keeps reminding me that there are better days to come. The third day of November has gone by- so has the fourth. The fifth holds no real significance except for the fact that its a new day. With newer possibilities. And I’ll do my best to be the best person I can be.
In the interstices, I have Mrs Rowling’s new book to keep me alive, well and thinking.
Pleasure, is just a few days away. Few inches, maybe.
October 29, 2012
30 minutes to midnight
The world isn’t such a bad place to be in, right now. As always, I’m in a place I didn’t expect to be in- a year back. I managed to move on from a relationship, from a residence, from a lifestyle that didn’t manage to catch on to my fancies. Maybe that’s all that I achieved in the last one year. But then again, I signed a publishing contract- my first, bought a cruiser bike- my first, joined a wonderful group of musicians, moved in with two great friends- I guess that should add up to something. Can I say that my rainy days are behind me? Probably not. But I sure as hell don’t mind getting wet any more. The sky doesn’t look any more blue than it did a year back. I grew my hair a bit, put on a few kilos, made some posts online, bought some new gadgets, and I dont feel any different.
I can say that I tried to rise above the misgivings of the past- I tried to explore the concept of spiritual behaviour and had some interesting results. Tried to comprehend the gravity of the trouble my parents went through to get me into this world. I learnt that my dedications should include my deceased elder sister Tuli Sinha Roy.
I haven’t lived yet. Not quite. I can feel my wings stronger than ever before. I can see the future as a less bleak streak than I had a year back. And I feel less alone in a crowd now.
Right now, It’s 30 minutes to midnight. And I’m still twenty one!
