How do you define happiness?

I mean, what is the end goal? To be happy forever, starting RIGHT NOW? But then, will you get bored of happiness? If Thanos made you an offer of a lifetime: let him snap his fingers using the Infinity Gauntlet and he would grant you your dream, no terms and conditions – would that bring you happiness?

Is it the peak of the mountain, with the beautiful scenery, that’s happiness or is it the climb to the peak, with its own hardships and pitfalls that are actually the things that end up making you happy?

If I had my version of happiness, I would probably never truly be happy.

said by Me, 2018 in this blog post

You see yourself in that big, red chair. You are ordering someone around, importantly. You sit in front of a mahogany table that is smooth and polished. It’s an air conditioned room. The person you are ordering around is lucky to be around you. He wants to be you, one day. Or be better than you. Or maybe he simply likes your office. He wants it. He wants the chair. He wants the desk. He wants it all. Soon, he shall have it maybe.

Or maybe not. You don’t care; its yours after all! The chair was built for you, you stitched it’s fine lining not with your own blood and sweat but with the magical snap-wish. You might have had struggled to get it in that room under normal circumstances, in front of that pristine wooden desk. But Thanos gave you happiness, all with that one snap.

And now, you sit in it.

Below you, the eighty storeyed building houses your offices, providing employment to millions. And not just here, but all around the country. You have power. You are in control.

People love you. People love hating you. People want to grow old and have your life. People want to be born into your wealth. They only see the money, the power, the unwanted fame. They see the version of you that’s public – like an Instagram filter. They don’t see the real you.

But it doesn’t matter, right? You have power. It doesn’t matter that you didn’t build your wealth from the ground up. You are forty something years old and already a crorepati. You have a family waiting for you at home. Your wife loves you. The un filtered, non Instagram version of you. Your kids are too innocent to know your worth. They’re young, but they’re smart like you. One day, hopefully, they will be sitting in your chair.

You are in bliss. All it took was a snap of the Gauntlet.

You asked him, “What will it cost?”

He said, “Nothing.”

But in reality, it costed everything.

Because life isn’t about wealth, it isn’t about power, it isn’t about the happily ever after. Life isn’t about snap-wishing yourself into paradise. It isn’t about skipping everything and going ahead in life. Life is about the bumpy bus ride to Paradise, and not the Paradise itself.

You think that’s your happiness. You want that red leather chair. You want that wealth and power. You want success. But, you want it fast, and you want it now. You forget that it isn’t a vada pav. You can’t get it fast, you can’t get it now. And even if you could, even if Thanos could grant you that wish, that dream, it would be empty. Because, then what?

However if you would have faced the challenges, if you would have been pushed and pulled, gotten hurt and mended yourself, if you would’ve been pressured and abused, if you would’ve gone through emotions you never knew you could handle, if you would have seen things you never imagined, if you would’ve lived…

The pain, the suffering and finally the hard work – that wouldn’t ‘give’ you happiness.

That would become your happiness. And that’s how you define it!

As always, if any of it made you smile, laugh, frown or giggle like a little baby, comment share and like! To be up-to-date with my other posts, give a like to my Facebook page and follow on Twitter if you use it! Any images used are either taken from Google Images, from my own personal collection or some other sources (which will be mentioned if and when, unless stated otherwise). Contact me if you want it removed.


Bloom, baby, bloom!

I was having the tastiest food ever when I was interrupted by a sound.

I dropped my food to the side and turned to look at the source of the sound. It was a small, green bud.

I stared at it for a while. Why was a small, green bud making a sound? No – why was I interrupted by a green bud making a sound?

Turns out, it was whimpering. It did not have a face (what with it being a bud and all) but I could see its pitiful condition.

There were rows and rows of flowers, all looking bright, colorful and fresh. They were dancing merrily in the soft caress of wind and smelling wonderful. Each and every plant had bouquets of flowers popping out of them. And amongst them, my interrupting little bud stood, lonely and unfulfilled.

I wanted to comfort it. I wanted to tell it that one day, it would bloom. But even I knew the truth: it would never bloom. This was peak blossoming season and if by now the bud was still a bud, it would never be a flower.

So, I just stared at it.

“What have I done wrong?” it seemed to say to itself, its voice as delicate as the flowers surrounding it. “Why am I such a loser?”

“You are not a loser, bud,” my voice whispered, as soft as the bud’s. “You are special.”

It chuckled. But not a funny, happy chuckle. It was a sad, delirious chuckle. As if it was scoffing at me. As if my words were a joke to it.

“I am special? You mean I am useless. While everyone is blooming, I stand here without beauty, without a purpose, without meaning. I had dreamt of myself as a flower for years. I had seen it. I had tasted my aromatic fragrance on the tip of my tongue in these dreams.

And what was at the end of it? Failure. Disappointment. Sorrow.”

I couldn’t argue with that. I knew what it felt like to be useless, to feel powerless, to feel lame.

“And I am surrounded by these pretty, healthy flowers. They have bloomed, they’ve spread their aroma, they’re dance prettily. They have fulfilled their purpose. They had a goal in life – to be a flower. And they became a flower. I had the same goal. I have done the same thing as them. So why am I just a bud, while they are flowers?”

It seemed broken. If it had eyes, I would have seen a cold, dark pit in them. If it had been a flower , I would have seen it wilting away. If it had been a human, I would’ve seen tears.

Instead, it was a bud. So, it stood there like one, no emotions and no meaning to it.

“Don’t give up. I know you must have heard it a lot. But while these flowers have all bloomed, that’s all they will be. You have the capacity to not only be them, but be something more.”

I did not know what I meant. How could I comment on being something more when I was myself a loser?

“We both know that’s bullshit. A whole nursery of flowers, but I am the only one here, amidst them, not blossoming, not a flower. And there’s nobody here like me to understand me. I am all alone. I am useless.”

I wanted to vehemently scream that it was wrong. I wanted to prove it. I wanted to pick out another bud amist the flowers and say, ‘See, you’re not alone!’

But I failed. It was right. It was the only one.

Just like me.

I was surrounded by blossoms too. People blossoms. They had bloomed, they had gone abroad, they had worked hard and gotten a promotion. They were successful, or knew what they wanted from life. They were happy. They were free.

And I was just a bud. Alone amidst them, useless and not blooming.

And then it hit me. Why did I want to bloom?

“You are a bud. But why do you want to be a flower?”

For the first time, the bud seemed a little sharper. As if all this time, it had not taken my words fully into account… Until now. It was contemplating what I had just asked.

“Because I have to be. I am in a nursery of flowers. I am the only one here who hasn’t bloomed. I must be useless. I must be defective. I must be a mistake. I have to bloom!”

It’s voice had gotten sharper. It seemed child-like now, defensive. It didn’t want to sound silly. But I could figure out the confusion in its voice.

“How do you know? Did you hear God say that?” I asked it.

“No! Of course not. But if I am here, and I haven’t bloomed, while everyone else has, I must be broken! Why can’t I bloom?”

Genuine bewilderment reflected on its face.

“Because maybe, you are not supposed to. Maybe, you are not a flower. Maybe you are different because you’re not needed to bloom. Or maybe, you’re simply slower than most.”

“But then, that makes me defective. That makes me even a bigger loser than I am! They all have already gone ahead and blossomed. And I am here, slow and confused. I am not even trying that hard to bloom. I just don’t know what to do! I want to bloom!”

“But what if, that is precisely that makes you not just special but unique. Yes, you are slow. Yes, you are not like the others. But why should that be a bad thing? While they will wilt away, while they will wither like most flowers, you will bloom. You will stand out. And if not that, maybe you will remain a bud. So what? Being a flower is great, but so is being a bud!”

“But I always wanted to be a flower! I always wanted to smell nice, look beautiful and feel healthy!”

“You look healthy to me, you certainly smell nice and earthy and beauty is subjective. Today it’s there, tomorrow it isn’t. You are a bud. Only you can stop yourself from blooming.”

“That’s not true! I am not stopping myself from bloo-”

“You’re not getting my point! Blooming doesn’t mean sprouting petals. Blooming doesn’t mean becoming a flower. Blooming means realizing that nothing can stop you. Blooming means being yourself, the best version of yourself. Blooming means learning and growing until you can’t learn and grow anymore. Blooming is just blooming. You can choose what you define as blooming.

Today you’re a bud while everyone else is a blossoming flower. Tomorrow, you can be the flower. Or a magnificent oak tree. Or a delicate plant with fruits. Or, just remain a bud. But that’s okay too, because you would have chosen it. So accept what you are and be the best you can be. Bloom, baby, bloom!”

There was silence. The flowers continued to dance. The wind continued to sway the plants. But the bud did not say a thing. It stared into my eyes, realization creeping slowly into its face.

“So you mean to say, today I am a bud, but tomorrow I can be anything?”

“I mean, not anything. You can’t, let’s say, become Iron Man. But yes, you can be anything realistic. You can be, do and feel whatever you want to!”

It smiled. It smiled for the first time that day. It chuckled, but this time it was a happy chuckle. It seemed to bloom, without blooming.

And I smiled back. That was what I had to do as well. Tomorrow, I would wake up with a new purpose, with a new resolve. Tomorrow, just like this bud, I would bloom too. Maybe not the same way the others had, but in my own way. I would be the best version of myself.

And in a way, I felt like I was blossoming without being a bud or a flower just like it. I felt good.

I gave one last longing look and a nod at the bud, knowing that hopefully, tomorrow would be a new day for both of us. The bud seemed to agree; it nodded back. And I turned back to my food.

The hash brownie tasted even sweeter now.

Heya Bleedsters!

This one is dedicated to that one friend of mine who feels like the bud. Who feels out of place. Who feels out of time. Don’t lose hope, just bloom!

Also, the last line was a joke. I promise.



Image taken from Google. I do not own its Copyright.


I have known Shubhendhu for a long time. In my mind, he is one of my oldest friends. And in a way, he is my first real friend.

Shubhendhu has always been in the backstage of my life. I doubt any of my friends know that he exists. He is like one of those pen pal friends you make on the Internet because you have so much in common and have great chemistry with. Except, he is a much better friend than some of my actual pen pal friends. You see, what differentiates him the most from all the other people in my life is the fact that he is always there for me. He always believes in me. There have been people who have been more present in my life than him, who I love, who I adore. But Shu, in spite of not being physically present, has always supported me regardless of everything and anything. And that’s true friendship.

So, in an abstract sense, it sucks. Because I haven’t been as much a good friend to him as he has been to me.

It’s weird really, when I try to figure out what changed. I look around me, and All my friends are different. They act differently. They treat me differently. They treat THEMSELVES differently. And I have always wondered why in the back of my mind. But today, it hit me. My friends aren’t different. It’s me who is different.

Leaving the comforts of your home changes you. Life changes you. You can try to hold onto your past as much as you can, that old version of you that you have always been. You can pretend to be that person, that old person in that old city where you spent most of your life as a dependent individual. But sooner or later, you will have to be independent. Life will abuse it the hell out of you. There is no choice, you just have to adapt. You have to grow. You have to change. A new city will bring about a new you. That’s how it works.

And so, changing yourself means you will see things a little bit differently now. Shu is probably not reading this, since he is more of a talker than a reader. That was the dynamic of our friendship. I would tell him my problems, all of them – barring no secrets whatsoever – and he would patiently listen. That’s what made me respect him more. A talker by nature, who always loved to explore conversations in a goofy way, would turn into an excellent listener when his friends or family were in trouble. Or if they wanted to talk. In a way, I was like that as well. Maybe it was this singular similarity that brought us together as friends.

He would listen. He would advise me too. As a person who was impartial to the core, he would provide expert opinions on all my problems. I would smile, accept these opinions that made complete sense, and then do the complete opposite anyway. Yeah, I was a dick to him.

You see, in my mind, I always thought that if he was advising me that way, then it had to be the wrong way because that also always happened to be the way I would think. So I would go to these mess load of other people – my family, my other friends, my girlfriend, etc. – and take opinions from them. And in spite of all those people being completely different from me, their way would make more sense.

Whose way was better, at the end of the day – his or the others – is up for debate. Sometimes it would work – the opposite way would do magic. But sometimes, Shu’s way worked as well. He was very diplomatic and always believed in the more calm and logical way. Violence wasn’t his best suite. Neither was mine.

One thing common though, in every situation, was that he would be disappointed. After asking for his opinions, I would do the opposite and he would always be angry at me. Of course, not for a long time, but sure. I would be too. If someone asked for my advice constantly and did not use it, I would be pissed. It’s not because they didn’t take my advice. Its because they wasted my time. If you’re not going to use my advice, don’t ask for it!

Oh I am such a hypocrite!

Look at me, drowning in nostalgia. This was a long time back. We were young and stupid. We had our share of fights like most friends. But we always came back. We always spoke to each other. Of course, being in a whole different place made it difficult to physically talk face to face but we made it work. Ours was a true friendship.


That’s what brings me here. 23 years old, living on my own in another city, far away from family and familiarities of my life, the walls of my comfort zone already rubble…… It’s hard. And without friends, lonely.

People don’t like me much. At least not in the way they used to like me in my old city. And as I said before, I have changed. I am different now. And the new city is not a fan of me.

Watching shows like Friends (1994) had already warped my mind about the expectations of living on your own in a city. But its a lie. That show, and all shows like that are lies. Real life doesn’t have Monicas that are genuinely nice and caring. Real life doesn’t have friends that laugh at your sarcastic jokes. Real life doesn’t accept your weirdness like they do with Phoebe. That’s not how life works. Or atleast that’s not how my life has worked.

Shu and I don’t talk anymore. Maybe sometimes, one or two messages get sent across. Maybe we talk cordially. Small updates on how the other is doing. But being adults, and mixed up in their own shit, it comes with baggage. And while you might feel sometimes that you are done with shit, and you want to go back home to your comfort zone, staying and dealing with shit – lifting your baggage and throwing it away – will make you stronger. Keeping expectations will only disappoint you.

At this point, everyone except that one person in life (my dad) has disappointed me. All the friends I called true, were actually just using me for my company. That sounds weird – I can already hear people shout “that’s what friendships are, you dumb fuck!” but I feel friendships are more than that.

You want me in your life, but also take no effort to keep me around. You text me with things like “You have changed, you have forgotten me, you never reply” but conveniently leave out the part where you didn’t send me any messages or give me any calls. In a fight, I end up apologising, yet I do not get an apology from you, especially when it was a mutual misunderstanding or mistake. I am your second choice, a backup. You forget me sometimes. And finally, you call me a freak. That’s not how friendship works.

Shu knew that. And he never treated me like this. And yet, I took his friendship for granted. I am to blame for it. I alone am to blame here.

Additionally, not being friends with Shubhendhu has also always been in the background. I have always taken that for granted as well. Not anymore.

In losing him, in losing his point of view, I also lost myself. Or at least, I lost my previous version of self. I lost my original old city personality and adopted a new, sadder, more depressing new city personality. I lost my identity. I don’t want to be different. I was to be me. I want to be a newer version, but still be me. I want to listen to my own heart, make my own choice. Yes, people will advise and I will listen to it. I will act on that advice if it makes sense to me. And Shu will continue to hate that. But you know what, he will still be a part of my life. And I will be my own person as well, right?

No, I won’t sit around hoping everything goes back to normal between me and Shu. I intend to not give up; I intend to do something about it.

Shubhendhu, I am sorry for what happened between us. But I am not giving up on you. Just like I am not giving up on myself.