life, unadulterated
My little one is at school, his second full day of school, and I miss him so much. I miss him with an ache, an anguish. I just can't stop crying. Yesterday, I was filled with a strange kind of restless energy, worrying about how D would be
life, unadulterated
If I had to pick a theme to paint my life with, it would have to be 'nostalgia'. Or 'grief for the past'. For everything new that comes my way, I tend to grieve all that I've had to leave behind. Perhaps this is
life, unadulterated
A fortnight ago, I was elated at having found a possible solution [https://thedreampedlar.com/writing-as-a-practice/] to this never-ending conundrum I face, this unsolvable puzzle of finding a balance between freelance editing and fiction writing. After I put up that post, I worked on my novel for not one single
life, unadulterated
This has been a week of incredible epiphanies, and in my excitement to capture the essence of all of them at once in this single post, I'm quite unable to decide where to start. Chronology is as good a solution as any other to this conundrum. It all
life, unadulterated
At every opportunity I get, I love saying that motherhood is the biggest spiritual journey I've ever set out on in my life and that Dr. Shefali Tsabary [https://drshefali.com/] is the spiritual guru I had been seeking all my life but found only after I became
life, unadulterated
The other day, D asked me if every sound can be expressed using letters of the alphabet. And I promptly answered yes. Surely, we have a letter or we can concoct a combination of letters to mimic every sound. That's what I thought at first, until I realised
life, unadulterated
In a conversation with an old friend this evening, about the pandemic and concern for our families in different parts of the world, about anxiety and regrets, we unburdened ourselves and eventually made our ways, yet again, to the realisation that we really are doing the best we can at
life, unadulterated
Last evening, I was perusing my old website, The Dream Pedlar’s [https://thedreampedlars.com/], with the intention of transferring my posts from there, one by one, over to this new home. And I came across something special. A year and a half ago, just before D was about to
on writing
It is quite like moving into a new home. First you bring with you the bare essentials, and you’re truly amazed at how little you really need to survive. Then, you envision how you’d fill up this vast, mostly-empty space, with all your furniture. And then your belongings
life, unadulterated
The shifting of the clocks last weekend and my screwed up sleeping habits keep me awake at all odd hours and asleep at saner hours, dreaming some outlandish stuff, waking up with my chest as taut as drum skin and the sound of my heart thudding as if trapped in
life, unadulterated
It is that moment again. Worlds are colliding inside of me. It is as if history is repeating itself. Where I was once the child unable to make sense of the parent, I am now the parent, seeing my child be the child I once was, seeing myself feeling like
life, unadulterated
Not even two months into the year and it already feels as if I have lived several lifetimes, over and over again. And, believe it or not, very little of it has to do with looking after D. Or maybe the arrival of D two and a half years ago