Take-offs, landings and everything in between.

Airports. They just might be one of the busiest places you’ll find on planet earth. I mean, you’ll find people everywhere, at every hour of the day. People working – or pretending to work – with their laptops open, crying infants, senior citizen, big families, travel groups, students, solo travellers – you’ll find them all here. Airports are like a congregation of different lifestyles that we are seemingly oblivious of. And yes, airports have a time schedule of their own. A coffee at 3am or a pasta for breakfast is considered perfectly normal.
Ever since I was young, I’ve been fascinated by what you call ‘the airport vibe’. As a small girl, airports meant traveling to new places – to mountains and beaches – and returning back with a phone screaming ‘your storage space is almost full’, a suitcase bursting with memories, and an unnaturally large amount of souvenirs. Over the years, this definition changed. Nineteen year old mugdha wanted to travel solo by a flight with a cup of Starbucks coffee and a book, watching the clouds from her window seat. That’s where it all started. That one solo travel lead to a series of solo travels, shuttling between two cities that now carry huge pieces of my heart. Since then, airports became a place to contemplate and to slow down – even amidst the rush around. The take-offs and landings over the past few months have been something like the start of an era and the end of another. I’ve started to notice how there’s comfort in the smallest of things one associates with home – like the sound of people speaking my mother tongue once I reach that boarding gate or the transition of bulletin boards written in a script that I cannot understand to the one that I grew up with. It’s amazing to see that things that I never once bothered about now have a compartment reserved in my head. And that is why I feel that airports are a plethora of vivid stories all around us. They stand testimonials to the fact that just like no two people share the exact same set of traits, no two take-offs and landings are the same.

yours truly,
22 year old mugdha, who can vividly recall the 20 year old mugdha sitting on the same airport where it all started

The subtle art of adulting.

Hello notes app, I know it’s been a long time. I have missed you. But I haven’t found time to articulate the random bursts of inspirations into some constructive writing over the past few months. I don’t know what to call it, but it hasn’t been a writer’s block and I’m just glad about that. First things first. They should’ve included ‘packing your entire life in two heavy and almost overweight suitcases and moving to a different city’, in the engineering syllabus. And even if it’s a totally out of syllabus question that most engineering students encounter in their final semester, it’s exciting yet equally overwhelming. One day you are suddenly paying bills, shopping for grocery and calling technicians to get a washing machine installed. What is even more surprising is that how one day you are dancing your heart out in a college fest and the next moment you are calling a plumber to fix the water taps in your flat. Green veggies excite you. A full vegetable compartment in the refrigerator gives you peace. And a leftover veggie that you forgot to throw annoys you more than anything else. Yes, that is when you know that you’ve just entered your adulting era.

Oh yes, they’ve romanticized this term called ‘adulting’ quite a lot. What they tell you is that you’ll be treated like a grown up and will have a lot of freedom. What they don’t, is that you’ll spend most of your time trying to figure what you are doing, and ironically enough you end up doing the same thing. That’s how you spend each day as an adult; waking up irrespective of how tired you are and pushing your limits in pursuit of your goals. And then after running around for the entire day, you question yourself whether or not you did enough today. You know, as an adult, there are rare occasions wherein someone reminds you of your duties. But day by day the feeling of self expectations reaches a peak, so much so that you stretch yourself even if you know you won’t be able to. There are situations where you feel thar ‘I thought that I would be able to this, but I can’t’.
It’s a paradoxical phase, you want to explore everything on your own and yet wish to have someone who tells you what to do when you face a crossroad of ways. Adulting is an art; obscure yet vivid. And each one’s an artist, having their own palette and their own canvas. And however different each one’s colors might be, the art of adulting stands testimony to the fact that art can be beautiful, even if each one paints a different, messy, chaotic or even obscure picture.

They say that adulting begins after 18, but I would say that even then, adulting has its own phases like a butterfly in metamorphosis, each passing phase making us ‘adultier adults’. And here’s the spoiler alert: no, you are not satisfied with the adult that you are in your present phase, you keep expecting more from yourself at every step of this journey. You feel that maybe growing up you will be at peace with yourself, but nope. You just keep on expecting more, quite often forgetting about what you already have and where you’d actually started. And when you feel that you are the youngest in a room, you forget very easily how hard you have worked just to be in that room. And that my dear adults, is why however big an adult you might be, it’s always important that you remind yourself that you are making the adult in your previous phase proud.

Yours truly,
A person wearing a tshirt that says ‘sorry I can’t adult today’ 🙂

Hindsight

Sometimes even storms are beautiful aren’t they? Wild and chaotic, yet beautiful. How magical is it that after days and days of unruly downpour, the horizon starts to clear up. A tiny ray of sunshine peeps through the clouds. Yes, it’s a feeble ray because it still hasn’t forgotten the scars that it has been subjected to. But at the end of the day, that is how you grow. And perhaps that’s when you pause to think that when the storm hit you, it washed off all the dirt, only to reveal the person you were before.

and one day while looking back in hindsight,
you’ll remember those tiring days and the long nights;
you’ll feel warm relief washing over you,
as you relieve memories a many, and heartbreaks a few.
the days of turmoil will find their closure,
you’ll choose peace over chaos, calm over thunder.
the summer air will smell sweeter still,
as you’ll remember how you conquered every hill.
you’ll admire every wildflower, every bird that sings
for the butterfly hidden inside will finally see its own wings.


-mugdha

you.

you’re not your fake smiles,
or the old scars that trouble you;
instead you’re all your good hair days,
and your obsession to dye that one strand blue.
you’re not the tears that you’ll hide,
or the battles that you quieten down;
instead you are defined by that wide grin of yours,
when you feel every smile after the frown.
you’re not your quiet introvert days,
or the times when you choose earphones over people,
instead you’re all those small things that
make your heart smile, however mundane or simple.
so you see, you’re not the days that cloud your mind
or the stormy nights when it pours hard,
you’re those days when you chase sunshine,
and hustle hard to make your mark among the stars.


-mugdha

poetry.

you know you’re poetry in motion, don’t you?
the way you twinkle your eyes when thoughts rush anew,
the way your hair softly caresses your face,
the way your face grows older, silently through the days.
I hope you know that you’re a poet’s raw muse,
that which strikes in the middle of the night –
And on days when you need it the most,
I hope that you’re reminded that you are a ray of light.
I hope you know its heartwarming-
the will with you yearn to fly;
the childlike excitement on your face that shows up,
each time you see a rainbow in the sky.
I hope you know that you’re poetry,
even if you’re a bunch of tangled thoughts;
even in slow moments when you feel low
and even on days when you can’t connect the dots.
so you see, you’re like words on parchment paper,
that flow effortlessly like cold clear streams,
you’re the tiny light of the sequined stars,
you are your wildest, boldest dreams.
and how I hope that on days when its hard,
when there’s too much clutter on the shelf,
you have someone around who tells you that;
every version of you is a living verse in itself.

-mugdha

quilt.

aren’t all of us knitted patchwork quilts?
woven with thoughts, wild and free
doesn’t our heart wish to stop and smile,
at every wildflower, every tall tree?
unkempt and roughly woven in places,
at times made intricately, with care,
this fabric’s a blend of colours and hues,
each with its own innate flair.
and this quilt has its frayed ends,
where the yarn is unbound and loose,
corners where it’s an impeccable mirror,
just like a poet’s raw muse.
as one chapter glides into another,
the yarn incessantly weaves and weaves,
creating a world that can be something
as simple as a plethora of patchwork quilts.


-mugdha

Reminiscence

It was a summery Sunday evening. I stood in my window, gazing at the twinkling city lights, sprawled over a great expanse. The roads were quiet, and the occasional sound of a car engine revving up the street was the only significant thing to be heard. Looking at the tall buildings afar, I stretched my vision upto its farthest point. And then I started thinking. Ten years ago, as a young girl of about 8-9 years, I used to stand in the same window, admiring the same city lights. My younger self used to make it a point to stand in the window, everyday for merely ten minutes or so. And here I was, looking outside my own window, like a stranger, unfamiliar with the view. The view hadn’t changed at all, except perhaps for a few buildings here and there. It was me who had grown. I was inevitably reminded of that young girl who used to stare at the night sky, each night and the joy she experienced in doing so. That’s when I thought. Life changes, doesn’t it? You change, your priorities change, the people around you change. The more you grow, life becomes more fast paced. You often forget to enjoy the journey while in pursuit of the destination. You start taking all the mundane things for granted but you realise their worth only when thay are no longer a part of your daily routine. And then this realization hits you, suddenly out of the blue. You realise that the age old dilemmas might have reached logical conclusions, but there are newer challenges to overcome and bigger obstacles to cross. And that is how you keep growing and materialising into newer versions of yourself, each day. They say that nothing changes day by day, but when you look back nothing is just the same. And at that point in time, I could truly feel this. And as I experienced the rush of these thoughts, I noticed that the twinkling stars in the sky had held my attention for longer than I had imagined. And so I wrote,

somewhere between then and now,
I forgot what it was to stargaze
to stare into the depths of the cosmos,
to get lost in the celestial daze.
I forgot how the sky looked like
on a clear December night,
forgot what it was to chase
those tiny pinpricks of light.
and today when I sat,
under the same sequined sky
I was reminded of the small girl;
realised that time indeed does fly.
it was this spectacle that had
been etched so firm in my mind,
never had I once thought that
I’ll leave my obsession to stargaze behind.
and so somewhere between then and now,
I left behind a piece of my heart with the sky
only to find it today, intact just as it was
even if the years have flown by.

-mugdha


Unwinded

It was one of those days when I got time to ponder upon something that had been shunted to one corner of my mind for quite a long time. It so happens that we are so wrapped up in our routine and we tend to easily gloss over the intricacies and the minute aspects of the things that make us what we truly are. Run behind the big things- that’s what they tell us. But can’t we just-perhaps for some time- slow down a bit and look more closely at the smaller things?

There are almost a million things that go on daily in each of our lives. But when was the last time you stopped to actually think about something that only you yourself could fully appreciate? At times, it so happens that something just strikes a chord with you, something so deep and yet impeccably simple. I mean, anything as plain as a cup of hot tea on a wintry morning can make you feel happy for the entire day. 

We go on chasing happiness in every possible way we can. But the tiniest of things can leave us feeling satisfied and content. Isn’t this paradoxical?
Don’t all of us feel happy when our favourite song plays on the radio, even if we perfectly know that we can just plug in to Spotify to listen to it anytime? Doesn’t a beautiful sunrise spread a glow in our hearts everytime we feast our eyes upon it? Doesn’t a simple ‘how was your day’ fuel us to talk endlessly about random stuff? That’s just what it is. We get so attached to the things we like that it’s like we embed a part of ourselves into them.

Ever heard the gentle tinkling of your grandmother’s bangles? Or the chirping of a small bird in the early hours of the dawn? These might seem insignificant to some, but they can mean a lot to others. The more I think, the more clearly I realise that happiness is that thing which is hidden in the most unlikely places- all around us. It’s there in the cream on your coffee. In the smell of the pages of your recently bought book. In the messy notes and doodles in your class notebook. In the oldest of your dresses- those to which even you can’t explain so as to why you are so dearly attached. In the warmth of your favourite sweatshirt. In the late night brainstorming sessions with a close friend. In the loud laughs and conversations at the dinner table. In those quotes that you run through again and again, especially when you need them the most. Yes, these are often neglected but believe me, these are the things that complete us. And the best part is that no two individuals can ever share the same set of things that they have a personal connection with. This is what precisely defines the vibrancy in the human race. And it’s beautiful. It is exactly like a plethora of emotions that gets hooked onto every person associated with a feeling. All these trivial things sum up to portray what we, as individuals truly are. All these thoughts crossed my mind like a series of blurred images in just a few minutes. But I understood more firmly than ever, that it is the smallest of things that redefine what the big ones truly ought to be.
-Mugdha Deshpande

Even the butterfly was once a caterpillar.

Even the butterfly was once a caterpillar. He didn’t know what he would eventually become. Yes, he had a very trying time when he wasn’t at his best. His transforming phase wasn’t something that was admired by all. And yet, he didn’t give up. Do you think the caterpillar knew that he would one day become a beautiful butterfly, who would spend his days dancing on flowers? Surely not. And yet he went on. Isn’t this so relatable to us humans too? No one appreciates you when you are in a moulding phase. You have to face innumerable challenges the moment you wake up each day. There are some days when you are totally clueless about what’s going on. You are one big, confused bundle of threads, struggling and trying to figure out what you would become. Yes, sometimes challenges do seem endless. Sometimes things you want seem to be sailing out of your reach right in front of your eyes. And believe me, that is the most unexplainably painful feeling you can ever feel. But you have just got to trust that all this is simply a part of your developing period. There might be days when the extrovert in you turns into an introvert and avoids talking to people mainly because they question your choices to make you feel uncomfortable. Sometimes, all you need is to give yourself the generous amount of time that you deserve. Have faith and trust the process. I know all this might sound far-fetched when you are actually caught up in the middle of a storm. You have all the logic and critical thinking you need but you just can’t think logically. Everything just goes haywire. Minutes seem like hours, hours seem like days and you try in vain not to think too much, not to revolve in the same round circle again and again. But in spite of all the odds, you hang on there. You stand there, rooted to the spot with all the energy you can muster. And that is what makes things change. Slowly first, and then so rapidly that even you find it hard to comprehend them. It is your belief and grit that finally does what it has to do. The once terrible dilemmas reach logical conclusions. You discover what you really want. After days and days of incertitude, your brain finally finds its sorting algorithm and tries to place thoughts in an orderly way. Things begin to fall in place, magically like the pieces of a puzzle. Distorted tiles come together to form a mosaic. The abstract shapes begin to make sense. Shaky lines materialize into figures. And again, you are awestruck. You can’t do anything but just sit and stare and perhaps try to understand all that is happening quite suddenly. That is the moment when everything seems worth dodging all those obstacles that tried so hard to make you take a detour. You are fully aware that challenges are perpetual and getting through this one can gear you up for the next. And at this point in time, there is no one who can appreciate yourself more than you can, when you finally sail successfully through that intimidating storm. And that is when the caterpillar in you transforms itself into a butterfly.

-Mugdha Deshpande

Fireflies

Writing a long poem after a long time feels so good! This time I have used a different style, rather I’ve written this poem as a combination of the narrative as well as metaphorical style of writing. The girl in the poem symbolises each one of us and highlights how it is in human nature to get confused when you encounter an out-of-the-blue problem. But ultimately, what matters the most is not how befuddled you are, but how you overcome your problem by having faith, hope and the will to rise above the barrier. The quote ‘May the fireflies follow you where the butterflies do not’ inspired me to write this poem. So, read on!

Blue skies above her,
Springy grass beneath her toes,
Butterflies playing around,
Surrounded by lush green meadows.

Her heart grinning broadly,
No trace of any turmoil,
Sunshine kissing her beautiful face,
As she trode on the soft soil.

With butterflies leading her way,
And fluffy clouds overhead,
What could possibly go wrong?
Was all that her heart said.

But as she savoured her Dreamland,
The sun started sinking down,
And the smile that played on her lips,
Was suddenly replaced by a frown.

Gone were the butterflies,
Each rushed back to its home,
And this young, confused girl,
Was stranded all alone.

As the last rays of the sun,
Bid the earth adieu,
She was caught up in a frenzy,
Now what could she do?

Not a soul to guide her,
Pitch darkness all around,
But then quite suddenly, out of the blue
Her ears picked up a familiar sound.

Cautiously and carefully,
Yet stumbling all along,
She led herself in the darkness,
In pursuit of the song.

The spectacle in front of her eyes,
Made her cry aloud with happiness,
For she saw fireflies a hundred,
Who could guide her out of this mess.

With those small, alluring creatures,
The path ahead was bright,
All that she had to do,
Was to follow the light.

Slowly and steadily,
She figured her way out,
Her trust in those lights of hope,
Left no place for any doubt.

And then at a long last,
Her home drew near,
Her heart could have sang loudly,
Gone was all her fear.

How she marveled at the beauty,
Of these tiny, little beings,
But this escapade of hers,
Had taught her countless small things.

She learnt that life
Couldn’t be all about sunshine,
But however dark the night may be,
Things were bound to be fine.

She learnt the importance of
Being hopeful in life,
And so, she learnt one million lessons,
From those enchanting fireflies.

-Mugdha Deshpande