A Letter to Self : Confessions from the Future

Yes! The Past was tough and the future looks frightening. But you have the most powerful ally by your side. This is a wake-up call from your future self. Rise to the occasion and rule your life forever.

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A Letter to Self

Dear Self,

One day, you rise to discover that you have grown younger, not in age but in abstractions! Your playlist includes Jim Morrison and Metallica. Previously Cohen and Dylan used to dominate.

You are watching “Grave of the fireflies“. You realize that even “Apocalypse now” didn’t make you cry as much. But you are now in Kurtis, with the long straightened hair. No more in frocks, with pink shoes and braided school girl hair!

There is no one to make you there priority. You have never won a choice. You have never been a preference. If tonight you are awake and the ticking of the clock is playing with your patience, take a break and read me. If your are sitting on the veranda, smoking and contemplating on how the stars could shine thus denying the reflection of your pensive mood; read me. Spare the night for me today. It won’t be as haunting as Babadook movie at 2AM! It can just be black coffee served in winter during pre-exams nights.

If you want to be happy, you need to arrange it for yourself.

If tonight is your birthday and floods of texts pings at 12 except the one that you expected the most, believe that his mobile charge must have gone down, balance might have been real low or net pack might have got exhausted or simply think that he (or she) wants you to remember him especially on this very day. It is just a trick to turn in a surprise! Why don’t you make a call yourself? Is the rush of ego and hurt of sentimentalism so conventional in you? If you want to be happy, you need to arrange it for yourself. Don’t leave the quest. Don’t let an opportunity go,or a happiness expire just because you were not greeted and pampered conventionally.

If you are sitting with a heavy heart, just because the familiar hand is not holding you tight, remember that your left hand is always there to hold the right and you can trust upon it the most. I won’t ask you to close all the windows for a new fragrance to enchant you or a stranger’s familiar arm to embrace you or a parallel footstep to accompany you when you travel by the seashore. But take it as an option and not a compulsion. Take it as a surprise and not an expectation.

Tonight you are going on your first date. Still stuck with the choice of dresses only because last time you were insulted for preferring a gypsy skirt over a Saree? Throw upon yourself anything that comforts you . Hurry up. Move on. That would probably be you a better choice. Recognizable. Original. Know how to please yourself before pleasing others. Because you owe yourself a life.

If scars do cause imprints. Comfort yourself thinking that it shall hurt, bled but heal again. Taste the salt of your blood. It will make the cuisine of life tasty. After break ups, if you are watching”Romeo Juliet”,switch it off and play “Indiana Jones”. If you have failed in an exam for the second time because you wanted to go for literature and not engineering, don’t go on weeping and repenting. Feed yourself with the thrill of creation. Go out and let a “Dead Poets Society” be born.Live for what you are born to become.

If you are frustrated with the relationships around you and if you can feel their artificial gestures engulfing you like a serpent,try to find your partner in between the innocence of Snow white,wit of Holmes, ambition of Sky-walker, and craziness of Joker.
You need a person, who understands that not every good film needs a vibrant color and not every painting needs similar strokes to be beautiful!

It’s difficult to find the perfect replica of your love in a different creature. But it requires far more stamina to be YOURSELF . To prevent putting the facade of erudite superficiality.
During the last exam scheduled, if no one greets you with a warm hug or promises to take you to market, don’t forget that your favorite coffee mug awaits just a shelf away. And sometime you did tell me, coffee taste better than love. Remember?

Do not waste an entire day scrolling the Facebook timelines and feeling jealous about the expensive gift that your best friend has been gifted on her birthday by her boyfriend. Go and search your library. A book or two would surely be demanding to be read more earnestly. Give them honour.

In a rainy evening if no one comes to pick you up, remember the path you walk through adores you for accompanying it. Feel the petrichor! Spread the fragrance! Remember the day, when a twenty eight year old fell in love with you when you were just sixteen and explained to you why were you marvelously beautiful? Remember the way your queer notions of relationships, your ignorance and abhorrence ultimately consummated in an affair. Forget about the times when your boyfriend mocked you for the extra fat consumed in your paunch. Adore the courtly description that this man delivers for every inch of your body. Don’t let go off a beauty in something unexpected for the despair of not having the unattainable expected.

That day when you spared the Aloo-paratha for your mom, starving yourself because she was too tired after work. Didn’t you hear the twittering of the birds? Didn’t you see the leaves rustling? They were in the celebration of your praise.

Those times when you surreptitiously helped your best friend to get engaged with the guy you loved to heart’s content.The emotions you wrote at the back of your maths notebook which you fear to tell aloud. To see them both happy!The first conversation you had with a stranger in the cinema hall whose eyes spoke of heartache. That moment when your farewell speech wet the eyes of your ex lover, who had left you a few days back. The break in his voice in hearing a reunion poem in your voice after three years. Didn’t you realize that “goodbye” isn’t always fiendish? All these together make the beautiful YOU.

You are the song to your own music. You are the steps to your own dance.

People tell that days culminate into nightfall’s, stories have an end and life has destinies. I have heard of the SUN that refuse to “decline in west”. But I have seen the blooming roses which lie in the graveyard singing paeans of love. I have felt how RED signifies both murder and love. I possess the diary pages that are minions to the oceans of emotions of the writer. And I know how you felt when you passed the same consequences!

The clock is still ticking. But you are not sad; not anymore haunted by the count of the seconds. You are who you are now. You don’t need your beloved to praise you with flattering comparisons. You know that your eyes are not sparkling and twinkling as diamonds, cheeks are not like the blood red roses, hairs are not highlighted to match the Anglo-golden colors and figure is not carved to suit that of a novel. You are not a demi-goddess and still you are loved.

You are the song to your own music. You don’t need Beatles. You are the steps to your own dance. You don’t need Jackson. And you are the guide to your own path. You don’t need advice. There exists a heart within your heart, an emotion within your cerebrum and a promise within your soul. They want you to love them back.

Tomorrow is never going to die. Forget yesterday. This night will fall. Turn the darkness into a blank white page and paint it with colors unless you are satisfied. The morn would fill itself with the same. Observe it. Go and write your own story. And if anyone does not dare to hear or see it, I will. Because I LOVE YOU FOR WHAT YOU ARE.

And if you are still empty within, I will enclose this letter in an envelope with a black forest, pictures of Di Caprio, a quill pen and a warm hug!
You aren’t ever alone. Can you feel it?

With LOVE,
A sincere friend

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