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@meloncholicmoons
About Tea
If you know how to make tea, youāll know that there is just one rule youāve got to keep on your mind. The one where your milk and water have to be in equal proportions and your tea leaves have to be equivalent to the number of cups youāre making. For example, 1 teaspoon tea leaves for 1 cup of tea. So on and so forth. And, if youāre feeling fancy, you could grate some ginger and add some spices to it. Itās that easy.
And yet, every time that my grandfather made tea, he would always screw it up. The chai would be served at room temperature, or below, with the cream floating on the top. The tea would always be on the watery side and the caffeine from it would never really hit. I donāt know what purpose that tea was supposed to serve but one thing was for certain, no matter what hour of the day it would be, you could count on him for bringing you some of it. You see, the man woke up at 5.30 am every day, without an alarm.Ā
I think of many people when I make tea, usually my parents, keeping in mind the way they like it. Sometimes, I think of my old flame who doesnāt talk to me anymore. I wonder if my tea making skills were so bad that he got pushed away from me. But I brush away those thoughts, 9 out of 10 times, my chai is great. So that really couldnāt be the case. But today, I think about my grandfather, whom I fondly call nanu, the man who taught me how to make tea and probably loved me the most.Ā
tea // š«
pop, you heard the sound of the flame turn on. a little later, the metal rebelled against the high flame when the milk made love to the spiced decoction within. and while you filtered out this marvellous creation into a cup, your soul moaned a little in delight.
solace in the city //
just when my heart was aching for a vacation to the hills, my friends and i decided to visit Shilpagram. nestled in the quaint lanes of Poonam Nagar, Jogeshwari East, i found a cozy nook in the city away from the hubbub of work and traffic.
Shilpagram was completed in 2018 as an arts and crafts village and represents the theme of the traditional trades of Maharashtrian villages like - barbers, washers and carpenters.
the property has a childrenās play area, an amphitheatre and some gorgeous architecture. At 6.45 pm they also doll up the fountain area for a light & sound show - we missed the show because of our time crunch :/
Shilpagram is a great place to unwind amidst nature. probably with a book or over some lovely conversation. the entry fee is 25 rupees with countless eateries lined up in the area for a quick chaat or even some delicious baked goods, in case youāre planning where to head next.
Banganga Tank //
as legend goes, the banganga tank sprang forth when lord rama was on his journey to find his beloved wife sita. when he asked his brother lakshman to fetch some water, lakshman shot an arrow to the ground and water gushed out. the locals believed it to be a tributary of the ganges and named it Banganga - the ganga created by a baan (arrow). as per history, the tank was created by the Silhara dynasty as a water storage facility in the 12th century by an architect named Lakshman Prabhu. (coincidence?) however, it was demolished with the Portuguese invasions and rebuilt in the 18th century along with the adjacent Walkeshwar temple.
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at present, this tank is quite an interesting spot. it is brimming with life - both with the fish that swim within the pond and outside- in the amphitheater like setting where you will find couples and friends sit on the steps and catch up on life as they feed the fish while some kids play galli cricket too. these kids rely on their friends rowing in the pond to fetch their rubber balls every time they fail to catch it on land. situated in Malabar Hill, devotees and small shops of flowers and incense sticks line its perimeter. although otherwise quite mucky, the banganga tank is dolled up annually for a 2 day music festival every January. what stayed back with me after this trip is how in the twenty years of my life in Mumbai, i had never been here or heard of this place. and now, iād love to learn more about my city and share its beauty & little secrets with countless others.
the flu //
before i tell you all my symptoms
and before you chalk out a diagnosis
i think you should know,
it started in my brain.
i mean, iāve been well all this time
but i got vulnerable
vulnerable to my emotions
pardon me if this sounds romanticised.
iāve been having trouble sleeping
a little feverish
as the winter crept in last night.
maybe i needed the hoodie after our fight.
thereās an ache in my throat
for every time my emotions leave me choked.
thatās not it,
a cough as bitter as my anxiety
and a phlegm really runny and white
i guess, it likes to run from tricky situations too.
oh, i see youāve prescribed some antibiotics & aspirin
sure doctor, iāll also load up on my vitamins
and as a team, letās flush this ailment out of my system.
inner conflict //
she wants to passionately express her love to him,
the beast within her nudges her.
primal instincts,
his beast bows in reciprocity
but a monster holds her down
she settles for just a glance
sheāll quench her desires while sheās in a trance.
the beast within her wants to howl & scream,
anger rushes within her veins and fuels her fury
but the monster inside muffles any sounds,
her raging fire gets doused by her own tears.
every step she retraces,
she really just wants to delve in closer to the cave
where love, hope, lust and other dangerous creatures hunt their prey
but deep down, the beast hopes one of them comes out & attacks her anyway.
Walk // āØyou donāt have to walk like youāre the same person. in your head, you could be 5, 15 or 50. and the city around you, it could be Paris or Tokyo. you could be on your way to a park to read a book and catch the sunset, you could be on your way to a movie date with your man, with a soft blush on your face. heck, you could be at a gateway between your world and a place of fantasies with nymphs and dragons awaiting your return since forever. itās your walk and it doesnāt always have to be the same.
therapy //
iām hearing you out and i empathise,
but i canāt word out what i want to say.
youāre having a hard time and itās going to be while,
before it goes away.
so, hereās a playlist with selected songs.
they felt right when the pain around felt wrong
and when i felt numb,
these were the tunes i would hum.
twirl and fall,
reliveĢ on your toes to feel tall.
maybe just strike an absurd pose,
as the music gently flows
listen to the lyrics with your eyes shut,
let your soul tell you where itās hurt
so that you can heal
and set yourself free.
before sunrise //
this story is about an impulsive detour to Vienna
there was this dashing american guy - Jesse
and a gorgeous dame from Paris, named Celine
complete strangers or maybe trusty travel buddies?
their trip was a day long
but the moments - enchanting
almost magical and yet, so real
they were bound by time and yet boundless
an intimate moment in a music booth
to when there lips first met by a ferris wheel
itās like they were on a loot
only to discover what they truly feel
was it the Daydream Delusion penned by a desperate poet by the pavement,
or was it the words the gypsy palm reader gracefully walked out with
that sealed their bond,
that brought them back again,
years later, to chase a sunset.
Drafts //
like a browser with countless open windows,
my mind welcomes you.
itās a chaotic little place,
in a tiny corner, youāll find some peace and harmony
it lives and breathes alongside the constant cacophony
clutter
you might want to shut a few of these tabs
but this is the only way my mind functions
the disturbances, the commotion inside inspires me
to quiet it down.
and, in doing so
drafts complete themselves,
questions find their answers,
unfinished sentences make a home inside comprehensive paragraphs
and thoughts transpire to ideas.
onions //
onions
in their true glory
with the skin
without the skin
or even finely chopped
have a signature aroma that will always hit your nose
and god knows
make you cringe like i do, too
onion peels are endless
just like the layers of the toxic person in your life
they form pools of tears beneath your eyes
when the sulphur within them reacts with the atmosphere
onions suck
and so do you
you suck because you give up on yourself
you suck because you get complacent after every self love post you see on instagram
āaccepting yourself as you areā , never meant you pause everything youāre trying to get a good hand at.
you make fun of people and call them potatoes
for whatever reason your mind finds easy
but hereās the thing
potatoes never made people cry
they taste good boiled, mashed and even fried
so comfort yourself all you want
you could even caramelise
but iām just here to make you realize
you could be the person who makes you cry
or you can start from scratch and improvise.
thoughts at my desk //
tell me, how you like to study,
do you make notes or you rely solely on your memory?
and while you zone out,
who comes to your rescue - is it tea or coffee?
do you sometimes just mute the class and listen to some melodies,
is it your earphones or airpods that break the monotony?
text me //
text me? okay, actually never mind
just reply to what iām saying.
send in an audio maybe ?
itās been a while since i heard your voice.
you know what, fuck it
i know youāre busy.
iāll feel a little upset but i know you canāt keep replying to me all day.
btwww, the skies were crazy today
it had the grey tones of monsoons but the sunset was really sexy
i wouldāve sent pics had my hands not been so full :/
did you get a chance to see āem?
i think iāll just delete these texts.
theyāre not that important anyway.
iāll guess, iāll call you when i just canāt bear this quarantine separation;
with some crazy stories.
oh and, i hope youāre well?
iām always there to talk to
probably the last name on your mind
but still, yeah iām around.
nightly thoughts //
itās that time of the night when my mind is running free,
to lush green hills, probably clad in a saree. as soon as my head touches the soft pillow cover and iām snuggled in the comfort of my blanket, the projector inside begins itās magic.
your voice is clearly audible and the tone of every monosyllabic text message turns into live action here. youāre now saying them to me, in person while you look fancy wearing a black turtle neck sweater and some classic black slacks.
the blush on my cheeks from being around you, listening to the things you say and the funny faces you make dissolves into tiny giggles.
as I adjust myself in reality to a more comfortable crevice on the pillow, I notice that its comfort isnāt even a fraction of what l get from your hugs.
you know, those tight, long ones where l donāt say anything & yet you understand everything, the ones where silence is comfortable and just watching the black sky as the stars come out to adorn it is what matters the most.
itās these hugs, coupled with, i donāt know, that plain, neutral smell emanating from your clothes, is what I miss the most.
while i keep wondering what that smell from your clothes is, i get up. I pass by the hallway in the night where see there are freshly washed clothes hanging to dry and suddenly my olfactory senses find a resonance. as i smile and head back to bed, a thought surfaces in my head - its weird how you were once a stranger and yet so familiar all along.
Hungry
life feels incomplete,
like itās a delicious broth devoid of the salt,
the love around me isnāt nearly enough,
not when youāre so far away.
Ā
right now, lifeās like an overflowing plate of work and responsibilities,
sparing a side of fake smiles and promises.
and, while I once had a pillar to prop me up.
I now resign to wallow in my sorrow and slump.
Ā
The seat across the table lies empty,
where you once sat after serving me,
Patiently hearing out every misery,
Shouting and cheering me to victory.Ā
Ā
no matter how hard I try,
the food I cook just turns to bland morsels as it touch es the palette.
I recall how you passionately described the process behind every dish,
as I drowned in its flavour and it vanished before my eyes.
Ā
somewhere, Iām holding on to a hope.
even though itās probably pretty senseless,
that if I force feed myself,
and finish every tasteless morsel on my plate,
youāll come back to that empty chair across the table and flash that gorgeous grin for me again.
things I was thinking while framing this - how did they shoot the entire bus sequence in Gully Boy with such good symmetry? ft. Golden sunlight #justimagine #orangeandteal #urbanromantix #safar #mumbaimerijaan #lightroom #snapseed #peopleinasquare #agameoftones (at D.N. Nagar) https://www.instagram.com/p/BuNhGaHnFrw/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=138atv0s1zb64