No matter how much things change, no matter how many new things come up, no matter how much the world we live in modernises, what we grew up with, will always remain super close to our hearts. They’ll always have a special place in our lives, a place that’s irreplaceable.
Because, this feeling is something that each of us can relate to, because I feel so innately nostalgic about it, here’s me sharing a post about one of my favourite places in the city I live. Do read it and share your thoughts, similar memories and experiences. I’m looking forward to read each of yours.
Read it here 👉 Nostalgia – my city, my home.
To you, that makes mistakes. To you that cries in fear, in pain, in agony. To you that reaches out for help. To you that makes the choices and stays by them. To you, that sticks to the choices that’s been made for you. To you, that dreams. To you, that doesn’t want what the rest of the world does. To you, that chases what nobody else does. To you, that perseveres and pursues.
To you that has flaws. To you that is impulsive. To you that repents. To you that has awkward conversations. To you that jumps in happiness. To you that falls and fails. To you that picks yourself up and tries again. To you that hesitates. To you that fumbles. To you that isn’t perfect.
To you that has a bone of contention about every micron you see. To you that commits a faux pas every living second.
To you that wakes up each day to make a difference. To you that faces disappointments. To you, that believes. To you that inspires.
The universe, looks up to you.
Nobody else can be you – your blemishes, your blunders, your choices – They make you, you.
You, are the star of your life.
You meet a lot of new people every day,
Some leave, some stay,
But the bruises from the past seem to clout the present,
They force you to block equations new, experiences incandescent –
So, why give passers-by large shoes to fill?
Why burden them all to have your back, to fit your bill,
Because, the ones who are meant to stay, no matter what, will,
For the rest, well, your beating heart, would want to stay still.
Of late, a lot of forums have come up (WhatsApp groups, Facebook groups, blogger networks etcetera) where people can post their work for honest reviews, feedback and constructive criticism – precisely what they are meant for.
An artist chooses a medium to communicate. To convey to the world his thoughts, his ideas, his message. When you give the artist your feedback, understand no one is born an expert, no one is flawless. Understand his need to be heard, understand his want to be accepted. Language is just a mode to communicate – so focus more on the message he is trying to convey. The grammar, spelling, rhyme, etcetera are important – but those are meant to be perfected with practice, with experience, with exposure.
So the next time you criticise, make sure you don’t show off your “Grammar Nazi” skills to project how good you are. Or how good your language is. Or how far he is from where you’ve reached. Instead appreciate him for having the guts to step out to communicate with the world. Guide him, help him understand how he can excel at what he does.
Criticism in any form is meant to hit the target, not wound it.
Let yours help the artist improve for the better, not make him shut himself down for good.
P.S. None of this applies to the family, to the teachers, to the best friends who know us even before we learned to communicate..
Let not the society pull the strings of our lives, of our destinies,
Let not our race, religion, caste or creed decide who we are, or define our indefinable capacities,
Let not opinions biased, tarnish our hopes, our ability to try,
Let not doubts unascertained, limit our will to fly,
Let not stopgaps and pitfalls deter what we choose to pursue,
Let nothing stop us from living our dreams, from becoming what we aspire to.
Why do I always have to prioritize, why do I always have to choose ?
Why is there something that I always have to miss, that I always have to lose?
Why can’t I just spend the evening watching a movie with my family,
And, at the same time, get to have fun with my friends at their happening party?
Why can’t I cosy up, during a rainy afternoon, with my book and some hot piping tea,
And, simultaneously, get drenched to the skin in the rain, breathing in every minuscule of nature’s audacious beauty?
Why do I always have to choose one over the other?
Why does my mind prefer one, my heart, another?
Why can’t I have the cake and eat it too, with equal alacrity?
Why is it always so hard to choose, to forgo, to live in the moment, to just let things be?
This is a first for me, reciting my poetry and getting to watch it on YouTube. So here goes. I’m pathetic in it, like always, but do watch it if you get the time, and tell me what you think of it.