Kochi, thought of as a can of storm clouds, synchronies with Govind's mood. With time the once lively canvasses of his dreams had faded away and all that was left were their shadows in a neglected diary. Surfing through social media at stormy nights, each photo a glorious post card from a life he was not living, Govind felt the heartbreak. Prompted by that overwhelming desire, he messaged Neha, a ray of sunshine in his college days. A reunion was arranged. The city, engulfed in gloom, acted as the setting for their meeting at a tiny café. Govind's heart surfaced, admitting the void that had consumed him. Neha was listening with a tear rolling on her face. "Life's a cruel joke, Govind," she confessed in a faint voice. "We run after dreams that vanish when we draw too close to them. Perhaps, after all, dreams aren't that much important in the larger picture of things." Govind looked outside and the buildings blurred.  Her words shattered the fragile hope clinging to him. Was this life the same as a storm, and then the return to normal routine? The café isolated him, the city lights laughing at him. It was hard to tell which day was which as they all ran into each other. Then, there was a resounding knock that broke the monotony. Here is Neha, an old photo album in her hand. It was their college album, an emblem of their dreams realized. They sat; the album a time bridge spanning years. Every old image is like a window to a time when something can be done. An image of festival, happiness glowing in the eyes of youngsters. Another, the arms slung around each other, a sign of the past closeness. Each image is like a shard of a broken mirror – reflecting joy and shattering the illusion of their imagined futures. It couldn't be the future they have been planning for. Silence was all around, only the wind mourning outside. Neha began to speak, her voice quavering. " I went back, Govind" she confessed. "Travelled, ticked things off a list. But..." That was how she saw it in Govind's eyes – the displeasure, the sense that there was no longer any magic in dreams. "It wasn't enough," she whispered. "The chasing never ends." The album fell open to a blank page – it was an abstract representation of their unfulfilled dreams. A bottomless sadness invaded Govind. They weren't only mourning their dreams; they were grieving the life they could have shared together. Neha put her hand on him, the gesture of united grief. They weren't just individuals, but rather the shattered image of what could have been. A rumble of thunder accentuated the silence. Neha stood up her chin raised and her face shining with sorrow and determination. "I am sorry, but I have to go," she said. "But Govind, perhaps life isn't about great gestures. Maybe it's these small, everyday moments, the people we meet and the love we share?" She finished and then she went but her words stayed, a small spark of hope set in the arctic of his warm heart. He gazed at the photo album and the white page before him a frightening sight. On the other hand, he was filled with gloom, but, as he tried to find it, he recalled their joint past – the laughter, the friendship, the tacit understanding that they had between them. Neha was right. Maybe life isn't about achieving the greatness. Perhaps it was about the bonds he had forged, the times he lived to the fullest, and the love he had for the people in his life. Govind was touched , a lone tear rolling down his cheek. He could no longer regain the past, but at least, he could decide to exist in the present. Maybe, yes, maybe indeed it was still possible to see beauty in the ordinary things. The rains came to an end, opening a narrow slit of moonlight. It wasn't a loud glare, but an enlightened glow, a hope for a brighter tomorrow. He approached the window, to his surprise, determination started to replace the despair. He wouldn't be a slave to his dreams but he wouldn't omit them either. He carried them with him like a memento, both a reminder of the past and a guide to the future. Kochi used to be in some sort of darken. Now, it sparkled under the pale moon. It was still alive with activity. He breathed deeply. He didn't know what would happen next, but it was the first time in a while that he felt the smallest glimpse of optimism. He might be at loose ends, but he wouldn't sink anyway. He will continue to search for meaning, for purpose, for connection and, who knows, perhaps he will find his own unique melody in the symphony of life.

Good afternoon. I can see all your ears are waiting eagerly to hear what you've never heard and see whom you've never seen. It's unfortunate to disappoint you to stop expecting another because he's already here speaking to you. Yeah, I am who I am. I hope you listen attentively to today's edition with meditative heart because you will never be the same again. I didn't know what pride can do until I saw true colours of hunger; a situation I was the only actor in the play. No one told me to take a step and seek for the solution. No one knows how painful it is sleeping on empty stomach while I was once having four to five meals daily. Sad as it may, but wait as I give you categories of pain in sequence. I hope you are not in a hurry because the real dance is yet to begin. With due respect ladies and gentlemen, the affluent show off in the supermarket ended just in two weeks of lockdown. A thought came after an afternoon without lunch almost in the web of depression, “Bringing the best out of this situation, lies in your power of creating another you.” Is this possible? I asked myself. How can I create another me? March 20th, 2020 till date has been an interesting moment that will never be effaced in the memory of my existence. Coronavirus lockdown started as if it is a few days issue until I was told to stop working due to the presidential directives. Keeping all things constant, I spent my whole day thinking and anticipating for a better tomorrow which is yet to come. Survival became the option not development anymore. Three square meal turned into two; strategically, between 10 am, breakfast and early supper at 5 pm. Although, it was so, I was hopeful because some do have a meal while others have none through the day and they were hopeful too. Categorically, I shoulder-off my pride; picked my hoe where I had hid it and went to my farm. Recalling the words of my late father, Dad Luke, “when a man forgets his true self and live the other, that man certainly will have no destination.” These knocked off my pride of white-collar job to digging the garden which was the childhood experience I never liked but now the pandemic of Coronavirus have shaped my thinking faculties. What about you? Currently, my farm has fattened my pocket and as well restocked my hope of eating three times a day. This realisation created for me a job that I will never quit doing; seeing my berries flowering, the tomatoes and lettuce in their harvesting stage, I heave a sigh of relief. An applauds for me, please! Calm down for a while please; there is a token for you before the break. Uum!!! What is your take on this today? Do you still consider agriculture as work for failures or a way forward towards keeping our society sustained? Just think about it. Work with me; we shall say goodbye to hunger.

I first meet her when I was in elementary school. I don't remember what grade exactly. I just remember the day she moved into my neighborhood. I found out that she was two years younger than me and her brother was one-year younger. My parents wanted my siblings and I to go over and welcome them to the neighborhood. I didn't want to, but I did anyway. We walked down the street until we saw a big move in truck. We saw two kids standing in the drive way, and their parents were moving boxes. We walked put to the kids and introduced ourselves and said, “Welcome to the neighborhood.” After a bit of small talk amongst kids, we all went home. That was all I could remember of that day. After that she and I became good friends. Her brother and my brother also became good friends. The rest of my elementary school life was us having fun playing together with other neighborhood kids. It was fun. When I started middle school, our friendship started to fade without us knowing. At the time, we didn't care. My middle school life was rather dull. I didn't have any friends, but I was okay with that. My grades weren't bad, and I didn't give anyone a hard time. I went through middle school as a shadow, and I was a content shadow. Then she showed up again. I was in eighth grade when she was in sixth grade. We talked a bit more than before, but defiantly not as much as we used to, and nothing more than small talk. Before I knew it, my third and final year of middle school was over, and it was time to head to high school. I started my freshman year of high school the same way I did with middle school. I did however make a few friends. My first semester went by quickly. Near the beginning of December, my mom was talking to her dad about volunteer hours we need to graduate. Her dad told my mom about her and her brothers volunteering and offered to take my brother and me. So, I started my volunteering with her. At first, we talked a little. But as time moved on, we started talking more. Before we knew it, two years passed. She became a freshman when I became a junior. She hung out with her group of friends, but always came to me to say hello. Sometime during my junior year, we got a lot closer. I would go to her house every weekend and I would spend the entire day there. Near the end of the year, she invited me to do a summer break work out camp which was held three times a week. I thought it would be fun, so I decided to participate. This led to us spending time together every day. On the days we didn't have camp, I would go to her house and watch movies all day. When my senior year started, we both started to sit with each other in the morning before school started. The first half of the year was just us talking and hanging out. In January we started going to kickboxing. This led to us hanging out even more. The next thing we knew, I was graduating and getting ready to go to college. The only thing that changed that summer was the fact that we went swimming occasionally. Summer passed to quickly. She is currently a junior in high school while I'm a freshman in college. I go to college two hours away from home. I miss being able to go over to her house whenever I wanted. I miss going to kickboxing with her. I miss going to the pool with her. I miss our playful arguments. I miss her. Every time I go home for break, I know I will end up spending most of my break with her. I know that we will be watching movies or going to the pool. We might decide to go on a walk or go to kickboxing. I know that we will never change. She made my life a lot better, and I don't think she realizes how much. Before, I was just passing the time. Feeling like life was boring, and that there was nothing I could do to change it, so I just accepted it. Now I'm passing time with someone else, someone who makes my life a lot less boring. That probably sounds really weird, but that's who we are. We also joke about how we didn't actually become friends until around the beginning of my junior year. To be honest, neither of us knows when we started hanging out. I kind of just happened. She went from being a neighbor I didn't want to meet, to Jess, my best friend (which I feel is putting it lightly). Some people look at us and say we are like sisters. I agree. She is more of a sister to me than my own blood related sister. I know that she and I will always be friends. We will always have movie days. We will always go to the pool. We will always joke about how we met. And most of all, we will never let our friendship slip away from us again. When I look back, I regret not caring more about our friendship. I now know better than to let a good friend slip away. I'm looking forward to making ever lasting friendships, although I know no one will ever replace Jess.

I hope we can all agree that crushes are the definition of emotional roller coaster. Maybe you agree with me that you want your crush to change for you and you fantasize about you and them. You fantasize what "it" could be- but "it's" not. I met a boy in school (he'll be A) who changed my perspective of things. Not going to lie- he was a good guy. He was so handsome, so smart, funny, and above all, my imaginary soulmate. When I first met him, I never thought I would have such a huge crush on him. I didn't know that he was going to play such a massive role in my future and the way I thought of things. I didn't know that I might fall for him, and that he would be the wrong guy... But now I do. It all started when he asked me for a chance at a relationship. I remember vividly all the emotions I felt, ranging from happy to bewildered. On top of that, it was midnight, and I wasn't myself. I was too crazy. So me, being the intelligent but dumb girl I am, said maybe. I said maybe because (of my smart side) I knew he was a player. However, I always contradicted myself every time I brought this fact up to myself. Not necessarily, I would think. He had a girlfriend for a long time, I would think. That was my dumb side. And that's exactly why I said maybe; I didn't really know what would happen if I said yes or no. I can't describe in words how much regret I felt afterwards for not saying yes. He was the first real crush I had! He literally asked me for a chance! How could I! But I did. And now, all I feel is pride and a little more intelligence. After that day, we talked on and off. We talked some days, at school or online; other days we didn't speak a word to each other. By the time winter break came around, I was basically over him. He was dating someone- a "hoe", to say the least- and I didn't care the least bit. They broke up after two weeks. A couple months passed. And then, I met a guy who was so nice, so caring, but so not for me at all. I met him at a party I went to (he'll be C). A day or two after, I decided to talk to him, because what's the harm? He was so nice. He knew exactly how to make a girl's day. But he didn't go to my school, and he was severely depressed. I didn't know how to help him. I even think I could've made it worse because, well... It led to the point where he was constantly talking to me. He wouldn't leave me alone because he barely had any friends at his school and I was his "light" everyday. He admitted he had very deep feelings for me one day and asked me out. I didn't feel the same way, and I absolutely had no idea how to turn him down without hurting him. At the same time he asked me, I was talking to A. No one else was awake, and I really needed help in rejecting C without stabbing him with the invisible knife. I was so hopeless. So I asked A to help. I explained the entire situation to him, from top to bottom. He asked me for my number, and at first, I was confused. But then, he called me. We talked until my dad came in my room and told me to sleep. A and I made up a solution that I would tell C that someone was planning to ask me out the next day, and I was going to say yes. A was the one who proposed an idea similar to it, and I was the one who made it cleaner. I feel like it got awkward at that moment, but I don't remember. I think we both just fell silent on the phone for a few seconds. I could hear his sniffs loud and clear. I successfully rejected C. That was the beginning of me and A's close friendship. Many, many things happened after this point of time. I could go on forever and ever about the strong bond but complicated feelings we had, but I'm just going to state the main point of all that. He was a player. I think I had some influence on him, but I'm not sure. He wasn't as much of a player when we were close, but he became a big one (and did other things on top of that) after our friendship shut down. My feelings for him constantly got in the way of everything I did and every word I spoke to my friends, because I would talk about him so much. The entire time, I knew he wasn't worth it. He didn't deserve the tears I shed for him or the happiness I felt only with him. Or at least, that's what everyone says. But me? I learned. I know now what the whole experience of a real crush feels like. No matter how complicated the whole thing was, I would never take it back. No matter how much "hoe-ing around" he did, I wouldn't change the way I felt about him. Above all, I would never take back our friendship or the things he taught me. Yes, he was a player. Heck yeah, it took me a lot of time to get over him. But to anyone who might be going through the same thing or dealing with a player- you will learn. I promise. But don't ever think that you will change him/her. You will only change yourself in the end. This may be a bad or good change, but it is a change for you and not him/her.

The bare bones of writing comes down to expressing a thought, idea, or feeling. We use it to communicate with others, as a way to convey a message we find important or personal. The bare bones doesn't care about brilliance, complexity, mistakes, or your chosen medium (pen and paper, anyone?). It's significant in only having written your word or words of choice, and the rest—be it a masterpiece, or just a grocery list—is up to you. When I was a teenager, the act of writing was a way to release, and to entertain myself. I wrote stories with characters that accurately, if not dramatically, conveyed the emotions that I had a hard time expressing in my adolescence. The themes crossed paths with things I experienced, and things that I anticipated to experience. It was my world, glittering and bright, even through the dark themes and circumstances that were written. While I didn't know it at the time, it was an important self-reflection through elaborate plot lines and quirky characters. It didn't matter that it wasn't what I had deemed publish-worthy. All that mattered was that I conveyed my feelings, and sometimes shared them with others—and with that, catharsis. I stopped writing like that years ago. These days, writing has become something of a chore. The pressures I put upon myself to just write something good, or even better than good, made my joy burn out like a candle wick. I put writing on hold while my life unraveled into the milestone of young adulthood. Through it all, I'm certain that my life would have a clearer direction, and my soul a happier glow, had I written... anything. No matter what though, I couldn't bring myself to do it, even if it were simply “Today sucked.” The desire to create was burning in my veins, but my self doubt riddled me with a hate plague I couldn't shake. Taking a look back, I knew I yearned simply for life experience. I wanted to experience without reflection, even if that took me through a lot of impulsive choices that I regret now. It also took work to sit down, focus, and write. Now, with the desire to be heard, to be seen as articulate, and with something to offer, I still struggle. The fear of a page written with utter garbage is a greater fear than of an empty one. And I want to change that—even if the page is merely filled with one word, I'll know I've put forth an effort to say something. In today's world, where everyone puts out their best image, their best work, and the edited, filtered versions of themselves—I vow to allow myself to be raw, messy, mediocre, and riddled with mistakes. To speak what's on my mind, to dare to create, to do. It's now my time for honesty, even if it masquerades as a poem, a crime drama screenplay, an essay, or an account of my day. The bare bones are all that matter, and even if to no avail, it all ends up in a graveyard—then, at least for a moment, they lived.

I look in the mirror every day, and I look more and more like my mother. What's sad about that is my mother doesn't even look like herself anymore. I am a reflection of the person my mother should have been. Instead of choosing her life she chose her addictions, she chose alcohol and repeatedly chose drugs. It feels like the worst thing in the world, mourning a loss of someone who is still alive. No matter how hard you try, you can not change the person they have become, and ultimately find yourself giving up. You finally give up because while they're flying over you with their delusional happiness, you're drowning of sadness and regret of the things you could've tried, or the things you may have been able to change. The fact I've realized is that there's nothing you could've done, and there's nothing you can do. These people have chosen this life, they've chosen to be selfish, and they don't care if you drown because they are not the same people who you once knew. So don't. You don't need to follow the same path as your parents, so many people I know like to use that as an excuse. " My parents were drug users, my parents were alcoholics, it runs in the family, I'm not to blame here, it runs in the family", they are choosing to be weak, and take no responsibility for their actions. You do not have to be weak, you have the strength to be someone different you just have to choose that for yourself. Choose every morning to get out of bed. Choose every morning to go to work, to make something of yourself, to explore the life that was given to you. Don't blame someone else for putting you on the path to addiction if you're not even going to try and do anything to fight everyone that's pushing you to fall in the wrong direction. It is not easy, but it is worth it. Whenever you're feeling like you can't fight your roots, think of everyone in your life that you're bringing down with you. Your kids, your siblings, your aunt and uncle. Be better, try harder. You deserve a future that hasn't been designed by the people who created you. You don't deserve to drown anymore. Things I remind myself every time I look in the mirror.