To the one who is yet to bloom

To the one who is yet to bloom, 

I see you…You have waited! You stood your ground when the Earth began to shake, you swam through the roughest of waters, you held your home when a storm took everything away… you waited through all yet never yelled a single curse!

I see you… and you are the strongest I have ever seen!

Now you have begun to run out of patience. Little things don’t dawn smiles over you anymore but leave you behind with risen haste. 
You have lost faith. 
You have lost strength. 
You have lost hope. 

The thick skin that you once grew, is now into ruins and you… you know you can’t take the pain anymore. 

So, what do you choose now? Defeat?
I don’t blame you… Neither do I blame the darkness. 

But I do blame something…
I blame those mouths who kept telling you how you must have achieved glory by a certain age. 
I blame those minds who came up with a structure to confine people’s lives. 
I blame those hands that had the audacity to strangle you into these chains.

But you? No, I don’t blame you!

I am standing by your side and cheering for you, making sure that my voice is louder than the taunts yelled at you.
I am waiting for you, on the other side of the finishing line with my arms wide stretched, ready to pull you in an embrace the moment you reach.

Who am I, you ask? 

I am the one meant to show you the right path.
I am here to hold your hand and guide you as you walk.
… and, as long as you follow me, I promise everything will be alright.

Just don’t stop! For me… don’t stop!

With love,
Your heart.

– Gauri Walecha

Midnight Sky

It’s midnight. Dew has settled on its favorite leaves, leaving no room for them to face the bare danger. The street light is a little too yellow, piercing through the dark to find the naked loneliness hiding in each corner. 

It’s too dark for the peace to set in and a little less dark for the things to fall silent, and all of us are simply hanging in the middle of nothing. An empty nothingness. 

Somewhere somehow two hearts are lying in their beds thinking about each other without having ever met. Doesn’t that evoke wonder in you? 

The world is so huge yet so small. Vast yet beautifully knit. Distant yet so close. The world is like a mirage standing in the middle of a desert waiting for you to find its lies and yet it’s like a magnificent castle standing on the top of a hill, far out of your reach. 

How can something be so desirable yet so repelling at the same time? So wondrous yet so ordinary in the same moment? Is this what you call magic? The one that keeps us running around in circles?

Finding answers to the questions we once had, only to find more questions waiting for us. Waking up each morning to wait for the day to end and not being able to sleep in the wait of the next day to rise. 

Life is somehow running by the wheel, and not once do we ever question where it’s going. If at all we do, the possibility of a lack of answers scares us and we go back to doing what we were doing, trying to blur lines between what is and what is not. 

How will we ever know when to finally break the cycle? How will we ever break free and fly away only to land in our very own paradise? Does this place really exist or is it just a whim of theory? 

But the real question is, if the answer was no, would we take it?

Happy Second Anniversary… and a special announcement!!

I am spellbound. I have been writing and posting for the loveliest bunch of readers for two years now… it has been such a magical journey.

Thank you so much for being here and sticking around to support my work. All of you don’t even know how much that means to me. I feel so blessed.

On this special occasion, I did something I had been planning to do for the longest time. I started my YouTube channel today, and it will honestly be a pleasure and honor for me to be able to bring my art to you in more and more ways. I hope you like my work there too! Do stop by! Much Love!

Glad to share my YouTube Channel with all of you… Much Love!

To the one who is afraid to heal…

You know, our ego does this strange thing. It tries to build an identity around our traumas. It wears scars as badges of honor and flaunts them in front of carefree smiles. We define our worth from the tears we shed each day. Pain validates us, we go around collecting it just like a kid with a newfound interest in collecting pebbles. Except, for us, the jar never fills. Our heart is like a deep well where we keep throwing stones just to check if it has run out of water yet. Sadly, it never does. No matter how many years we spend trying to empty it out, each thrown stone makes it weep a little.

Such identities are scary though. Not only because they are too fragile when built on loamy grounds but also because they are afraid of losing themselves in the web of their own lies. Lies about how our beloved trauma is our ultimate story, about how what was once broken can never be healed, about how the grudge we pamper each day is the lesson our trauma left us, and also about how letting go is a crime against our heart.

But the question is, do you really want to spend the rest of your life hurting yourself like that? Isn’t it an act of self-harm to be clinging to pain longer than how much we can endure?

Don’t get me wrong! I am not asking you to stop feeling what you feel. Rather, I am asking you to drown deep into your emotions once and for all.

Reach for the deepest parts of your heart. Take hold of every string that connects you back to your pain. Hold it with love, kiss its broken ends, knit it back where necessary, and break it off where not; do that and a lot more but once and for all.

I know stories of pain are strangely celebrated. Scars are decorations in our strange strange world, but you don’t have to follow suit.

I don’t want you to live a life full of agony. I don’t want your trauma to define you. Instead, I want your smile to be your sigil in this world of royal battle flags; I want your smile to shine not only because it speaks of a prettier story, but also because it celebrates the spirit with which you overcame everything that fell your way.

Yes, life is a war and you are a warrior, but even the most ruthless of fighters are allowed to return home once in a while.

Then, why do you feel the need to build your home on the battlefield of a war long dead?

– Gauri Walecha

Such is life…

If I could, I would turn back time; but then, if I could, I would never let it pass so quickly. 

The man who invented the hourglass must have been very clever. He gave us the harshest truth trapped in a glass that lies to us about how we can turn it in our favor. Yet, can we?

Then again, the mind who brought polaroids to the world was such a brave rebel. When life taught him how helpless he was, he helped himself with a tool to capture it. Yet, could he?

Life is strange in its ways. A fine storyteller who lures you to the battlefield with its tales of encouragement and a skilled warrior who then slays your courage like a hungry predator. 

Funnily enough, it’s never done playing its games. It will knock you down and down again only to offer you hopes of victory once you don’t want to stand your ground anymore. 

Should you believe? Do you have another choice? 

– Gauri Walecha

The Truth

Memories have a strange habit. They fade away… and they do so faster when you don’t want them to. Maybe that is why people came into the habit of writing whatever happened around them. Writing was their helpless attempt at trying to hold quicksand.

Words lose meaning once they stop carrying stories around… but if they truly wanted to tell those tales, they would have. Why didn’t they? 

Every heart in this world speaks in the tongue of an artist, and yet you don’t have many to celebrate; mostly because they are afraid to scream and a world that is full of noise fails to hear their whispers. 

Why whisper the truth, you ask? What would you do if you were standing in a crowd full of thieves who prey on secrets?

Truth is not lost, it has simply been silent. 

– Gauri Walecha

I will miss you, Naanu…

Fires warm your nights at the cost of burning you. Sometimes I wonder if that is how everything good in the world works. Do good things really come with a price? Or, is the pain just about the guilt and shame that comes with having better than others? 

Some storms don’t come to kill you; but if they don’t kill you, do they always make you stronger? Do storms also feel proud to have killed more people than the others? Why do we wear our traumas as a badge of honor? Is that why we fear good healers? Have we really begun to identify ourselves through the scars we wear on our skins?

Strange world, isn’t it? 

People lose their lives to death. People lose their loved ones to death. Some people lose their smiles to death. Or, has it always been the other way around? What if it was life fighting to keep its best soldiers alive? What if we are the delusional ones who mindlessly gravitate towards our own ends?

I recently lost my Nanaji (That’s the Hindi word used to address your mother’s father). This was my first time processing death so closely. The experience has left me wondering why people tend to hate their lives so much. I mean, life doesn’t end until it ends. You have the world waiting for you while you are still breathing. Every moment is a new opportunity and every person brings along a new kind of love, yet we toss our lives into a can of garbage just because there aren’t people around us who chant our greatness each day. 

I doubt if the great ever cared about the applause roaring around them. In fact, I believe, it is truly their nonchalance for the praises that makes them even worthier of celebration. That is the kind of man my Nanaji was. Subtle, humble, elegant, yet confident, wise, and full of life. He taught me how you don’t have to beat yourself down to have a bigger heart. Sadly, the lesson truly struck me after I lost him. I will miss him… forever. He was my guiding light in life… my biggest motivation to go out there and achieve every big thing… he was and he will always be! I miss you Naanu. 

Craftsmen are Mystics in hiding…

It takes the heart of a mystic to lay your bare hands on an abandoned rock, bring it home and spend several blue moons trying to carve a paradise out of prunes.

You hold that disowned wonder in your hands, right in front of your eyes, letting your soft gaze take a gentle stroll across the uneven scriptures that sing years of pilgrimage.

You let your rough but brazen fingers trace its thrashed and wounded skin that speaks of a long violent story in the most silent way.

You take the courage to find beauty in the brutality of scars and find the strength to reach for it… You reach for it, violating its existence; stealing parts of it, and keeping them for yourself.

It takes the devotion of a pilgrim to work under the amber of a dying oil lamp, toiling to find God in grit.

You let your chisel guide you through the darkness… you follow its sharp ends as they dance in all their glory.

You let the night owls sing and wolves howl, pleading with you to give up… but you don’t- you flow… you flow with the unknown to the unfound… you flow through the rocky edges and the softened carves… you flow until you are one with grace- and once you are- you are free forever!

– Gauri Walecha

Old and Enchanted…

I love walking down the woody trails of old and enchanted forests. The sound of twigs cracking under your feet, leaves rustling to the dance of lost winds, thick fragrances of mosses hanging in the air, a river flowing afar, and the way everything falls into symphony- a symphony to drown into- a symphony to rise from!

When the night falls supon, and the wolves begin to tread the hearth- wise men settle, hermits sift, and the brave wander- the alchemist though; she does neither!

She smiles to the moon, sings to the fie, weeps to nurture her garden and dances to the roaring clouds. She yearns for the day yet celebrates the night; she puts her mind to sleep and awakens her soul. She is the long eloped princess, the new found mystic; she pauses in peace and flows with intent.

She was the woman who was once shunned for who she was- she is the woman who prays who are still caged away from themselves- “Break old man, break away; the night has come to seek!”

– Gauri Walecha

Sometimes I wonder…

Sometimes I wonder if the leaves have stopped rustling with you not being around. Did you take the wind away or is it just the silence you left behind? Flowers have wilted down, and those standing have lost their charm. Did you crush them under your spiteful steps or is it just the love you took away?

When people pass away, they inherit their life down to those who stood the closest to them. You chose to abandon, and my life has since been a staircase spiraling down to the hollows; an unending funeral in my heart since your feelings died. Is it the void that they bequeath me of?

Sometimes I wonder if the music has lost all its melody since you chose to take that step away. Have my ears deafened down, or are they just not brave enough to hear any lies anymore? I wonder if it is about the lies or just the ones that you spoke.

Sometimes I wonder if it was just the more of you or less of me, or simply not enough of everything- that made you- that made me- lose the fight?

– Gauri Walecha