Usually, when people ask how I’m doing, the real answer is — I’m doing shitty. But I can’t say I’m doing shitty, because I don’t even have a good reason to be doing shitty. So, if I say I’m doing shitty, then they say: Why what’s wrong? and I have to be like: I don’t know…All of it…
Misery is the only constant.
And Rajma Chawal sucks.
Staying alone in Delhi is amazing, if you like being depressed.
My tiffin guy has started serving bad food now. I have no idea why he likes Rajma Chawal so much. The day I see Rajma, half of my soul goes back to the womb. It knocks my daylights off thinking how can Delhi people like f*cking Rajma Chawal. Absolutely f*ck that thing.
But that’s life, sometimes you get something good, sometimes bad, and sometimes it’s Raj-f*cking-ma.
And you can’t do anything. The eternal energy only knows flowing, so you better be flowing.
Attachment is a sin.
You can’t hold on to something (Specially to Rajma Chawal).
You just can’t force anything: conversations, friendships, relationships, attention, love. Anything that is forced is just not worth fighting for. Whatever flows, flows; what crashes, crashes. It is what it is.
Picture millions of plankton minding their own business, just off the shore during the cretaceous. When they die, their tiny corpses fall to the ocean floor and get buried by other debris.
Eventually they turn to chalk. As the planet cools down, the oceans recede. Those chalky remains become part of the land. They make the soil extra alkaline and extra organic. And everything just grew from there. A plankton had to make way for something better by turning into dust.
And that’s what we are destined for. Dust.
Birth is a curse, and existence is a prison.