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Thursday, October 8, 2015

Letters from Bengaluru

To Maa, from the returning bus

I am an adult. My world spins, and for the first time I am facing it without your help. I am responsible for myself and for my comrades. I am responsible for my clothes, my hair, my money. I have others, but they are not you -- hell, they are not even me. This place is interesting. It has taught me a lot. When I come back to you, I'll be more of an adult than when you last saw me.



To R and R, from Wonder-la

At the top of the uncertain world, when the fear of life is gone, there is a strange sense of peace. The view and the breeze, for once, become meaningful for their own sake and not as reinforcements to one's sense of existence -- perhaps there is some truth to what the sages say about letting go. Right now, at the still moment between anticipation and exhilaration, I am torn between a deep ascetic longing for absolute Himalayan solitude and a childlike stubborn wish for you to be here with me.

Your sister.

P.S.: I'm bringing back food.


To the world, from everywhere

I have been reminded that while I am within you, my consciousness is forever beyond your reach. Thanks for having me, but aside from the mandatory gratitude for survival, I feel nothing for you.

Your umpteenth reject.


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