I'm 24 years old and this is my serious journal. [I also have a fun journal where I yap almost daily @kaun-hai-wo-anjaani]
Expect deep dives into my various interests and my innermost thoughts and emotions.
A literature student with a soft spot for stories in every form : books, films, music, theatre, art, and TV shows.
Main : @baffled-blooberri
This blog is my little corner to share those musings:
🎬 movies I can’t stop thinking about
🎶 song lyrics that hit harder than they should
🎭 theatre and performance that leave me buzzing
📚 the beautiful, messy layers of literature
🎨 and all the ways art and culture spill into our lives
Think of it as me savouring the subtext (and sometimes just munching on random thoughts). It’s part analysis, part enthusiasm, part overthinking—but always with love for stories in all their forms.
If you’re into peeling back layers, chasing metaphors, or just want to gush about a scene/song/line that made you feel something, you’re in the right place. 💫
He is strongest man I have ever known. I watched him endure things I wouldn’t wish on anyone.
The chemo drained him. He would throw up until there was nothing left. His bones weakened, his teeth grew brittle. He lost his hair, his weight, his strength.
It felt like watching life being pulled out of him, piece by piece. He would faint. He lived in constant pain, so much that even opioids stopped working.
He became physically unrecognisable. And yet, inside, he was still him.
Still fierce. Still strong. Still my protector.
Even in that condition, he was the shield of our family.
~
The second time was worse.
The nausea, the weakness, the pain—it all intensified. But he didn’t give up. He finished his chemo. All we had to do was get through the aftermath.
A few days after the last chemo session, his health worsened. The nausea and the pain became unbearable.
One night, my brother and I sat with him.
We laughed. And even that small laughter caused him pain.
The next day, he was taken to the hospital.
Four days passed, we didn't visit, there was no need. He was supposed to recover his strength and come home after a few days. Mom went every morning and came back at night. And all he really talked about was recovering quickly and coming back to his kids.
On the fifth morning, he was put on a ventilator.
We always had complete faith in him, in his strength, his will. His will could move mountains. We thought it could defeat anything. But it couldn’t defeat death.
By that evening, he was gone.
~
Life can be unbearably painful.
But it is also where love lives, where laughter exists, where memories are made.
Death is neither cruel nor kind.
It simply is.
And if there is such a thing as a “kind” way to lose someone, to me, it would be time.
A life fully lived, and a goodbye that comes with age, not suffering.
The Song that Speaks My Grief: 'Tere Bin' by Rabbi Shergill
When I hear Rabbi Shergill’s Tere Bin, I no longer hear just a song. I hear my grief echoing back at me. Every line pulls open the wound of losing my father, and every pause feels like the silence he left behind. This song was written by a son for his late father, and as a daughter who has also lost her father, I feel the truth of that pain in my bones.
Tere bin, sannu sohneya koi hor naiyo labhna / Jo deve ruh nu sakun / Chukke jo nakhra mera
Other than you, my love I cannot find anyone / Who'll bring solace to my soul / Who'll pamper me without fail
Tere bin, sannu sohneya koi hor naiyo labhna / Jo deve ruh nu sakun / Chukke jo makhra mera
Other than you, my love I cannot find anyone / Who'll bring solace to my soul / Who'll pamper me without fail
Without him, no one else in this world can give me the same peace.
My soul feels restless, because the one person who accepted me completely, with all my faults and tantrums, is gone.
My father’s presence was my comfort, and now every day feels unsteady without his grounding presence.
Ve main saara ghum ke vekheya / Amrika Roos Malaysia / Na kithe vi koi fark si / Har kise di koi shart si
Oh I have travelled a lot and I have seen it all / America, Russia, Malaysia / There wasn't any difference anywhere / They all had some or the other condition
I’ve searched everywhere—through people, through distractions, through new places—for a sliver of relief.
But nothing changes.
It doesn’t matter where I go; the absence follows me.
Everywhere feels the same without him.
Every relationship feels conditional.
Koi mangda mera si sama / Koi hunda surat te fida / Koi mangda meri si wafa / Na koi mangda meriyan bala.
Some ask for my time / Some fall for my face / Some demand my loyalty / But no one wants to take on my troubles
Everyone around me wants pieces of me—my time, my presence, my loyalty.
But my father was different.
He never demanded, he only gave.
He absorbed my troubles without asking for anything in return.
Tere bin, hor na kise mangni meriyan bala / Tere bin, hor na kise karni dhup vich chhan.
Other than you, no one else will ask for my pains / Other than you, no one else will shade me from the sun
No one else would ever willingly carry my burdens, or shield me from the harshness of life, the way my father did.
He was my shade, my shelter, my protector.
Now, walking in the sunlight feels like burning.
Tere bin, sannu sohneya koi hor naiyo labhna / Jo deve ruh nu sakun / Chukke jo nakhra mera
Other than you, my love I cannot find anyone / Who'll bring solace to my soul / Who'll pamper me without fail
Jiven rukeya si tu zara, naiyo bhulna main saari umar / Jiven ankheya si aankhan chura "Rovenga sanu yaad kar" / Haseya si main ehsa ajeeb / Par tu nai si haseya / Dil vich tere ko raaz si, memnu tu kyon nai daseya
The way you stopped for a moment, I will never forget it in my life / The way you said, looking away from my eyes "you will cry remembering me" / I laughed a strange laugh / But you didn't laugh / The secret that lied in your heart, why didn't you tell me about it
There are a thousand questions I need to ask him, a million things I wish I could say.
There were things in his heart I will never know.
That mystery breaks me, because it feels like part of him left without ever being told.
Tere bin, sanu eh raaz / Kise hor naiyo dasna / Teri bin, Peed Da Elaaj / Kis Vaid Kolon Labhna.
Other than you, i don't want this secret to be revealed to anyone / Other than you, cure to my pains / Can't be found with any doctor
You are the one who took away all my pain, who stood between me and my fears, who protected me from all harm.
I don't want to share my pain with anyone other than you.
But now, no healer can cure this pain.
There is no medicine for absence.
There is only heartache and longing.
Tere bin, sannu sohneya koi hor naiyo labhna / Jo deve ruh nu sakun / Chukke jo nakhra mera
Other than you, my love I cannot find anyone / Who'll bring solace to my soul / Who'll pamper me without fail
Milia si ajj mainu, tera ik patra / Likheya si jis te, tu sher Waris Shah da / Padh ke si os nu, hanju ik duleya / Akhaan ch band si, eh raaj ajj khuleya / Ki tere bin, eh mere hanju, kise hor naiyo chumna / Ki tere bin, eh mere hanju, mittee vich rulna
I found today, a note of yours / on which you had written, a couplet by Waris Shah / Upon reading it, a teardrop fell / What was locked within the eye, that secret was revealed today / That without you, these tears of mine, no one would kiss away / That without you, these tears of mine, will wither in the dust
I keep finding things that belonged to him. Even after three years.
A pen, a handwritten note, a button, a voice recording, a picture...
All these objects, remind me of him and yet I find no solace in them.
No one but him could have wiped my tears, and comforted me. Without him, my grief falls unheld, lost in the dust, unnoticed by the world.
His absence turns every tear into solitude.
Tere bin, sannu sohneya koi hor naiyo labhna / Jo deve ruh nu sakun / Chukke jo nakhra mera
Other than you, my love I cannot find anyone / Who'll bring solace to my soul / Who'll pamper me without fail
Tere Bin is not just a song—it is grief put into words. It is a mirror of my sorrow, a voice for everything I cannot say. It is the sound of love lost, of a bond broken by death but never erased. For me, it is not only Rabbi Shergill’s song for his father; it is also my cry for mine. Every line reminds me that a parent’s love is irreplaceable, and though the world keeps moving, I remain here, carrying my father's absence like a second skin.
My dear Papa, I miss you every single day. Life feels so empty and meaningless without you. Most days I can pretend to be fine. But today... My heart feels crushed under the weight of your absence, and I keep flashing back to the day you left us—the day everything broke and nothing has felt whole since.
My dear Papa, I miss you every single day. Life feels so empty and meaningless without you. Most days I can pretend to be fine. But today... My heart feels crushed under the weight of your absence, and I keep flashing back to the day you left us—the day everything broke and nothing has felt whole since.
Every culture has its tricksters. From Loki in Norse mythology to Anansi the Spider in West African folklore, from Shakespeare’s Puck to Hermes in Greek myth, the trickster is always there: a chaotic figure who bends rules, mocks authority, and somehow exposes hidden truths by refusing to play the game “the right way.”
In Psych, that mantle falls squarely on Shawn Spencer. At first glance, Shawn is just a man-child with an encyclopedic knowledge of detail, a nose for patterns, and a refusal to take life seriously. But dig a little deeper, and you find that he fits perfectly into the lineage of tricksters — figures who destabilize power structures not with brute force, but with wit, humor, and audacity.
The Trickster’s Toolkit: Mischief as Method
Tricksters thrive on mischief, and Shawn is mischief incarnate. He lies — constantly — but his lies are performative, flamboyant, and oddly liberating. Pretending to be psychic is, essentially, a trickster’s prank extended into a lifestyle. And like Hermes stealing Apollo’s cattle or Loki shapeshifting to cause chaos, Shawn thrives on bending reality into a joke that still lands him on top.
His “psychic visions” are theater: exaggerated gestures, dramatic pauses, ridiculous noises. They’re trickster rituals — part performance, part subversion. Everyone in the room knows it shouldn’t work, yet it does. And in doing so, Shawn exposes the blindness of authority figures (hello, Lassiter) who are too rigid to notice the obvious clues he picks up.
Tricksters vs. Authority
The trickster’s favorite target is authority. Shawn mocks the seriousness of police work, challenges Lassiter’s rigid worldview, and even pokes fun at his own father’s hyper-strict standards. But here’s the genius: tricksters don’t destroy authority outright; they undermine it enough to reveal its cracks. Shawn doesn’t make the Santa Barbara Police Department collapse — he makes it better, looser, more human, by forcing them to accept unconventional methods.
Tricksters are also moral mirrors. Loki reveals the hypocrisy of the gods, Hermes shows that rules are negotiable, and Shawn constantly highlights the absurdity of crime dramas that take themselves too seriously. Psych as a show is parody, and Shawn is the embodiment of that parody: he’s a meta-commentary on detective tropes while still solving real cases.
Tricksters and Transformation
In mythology, the trickster often forces transformation — not just for themselves, but for everyone around them. Shawn is no different. His refusal to “grow up” becomes the very catalyst that makes him (slowly, painfully) grow. His relationship with Juliet forces him to balance chaos with responsibility, and his friendship with Gus shows that tricksters still need grounding.
Most importantly, Shawn transforms the people around him:
• Lassiter learns flexibility (well, a little).
• Juliet embraces Shawn’s unorthodox perspective.
• Henry rediscovers affection for his son.
• And Gus? Gus gets dragged into chaos, but in doing so, becomes braver and bolder.
That’s what tricksters do: they destabilize the system so that growth can occur.
Conclusion: Why Shawn Spencer Endures
Shawn Spencer is more than a goofy detective. He’s a modern trickster, standing in a long tradition of characters who use humor to reveal truth. Like Hermes, he’s a messenger between worlds — the rigid world of police work and the playful, imaginative world of intuition. Like Loki, he thrives on chaos but also builds unexpected bonds. And like Puck, he turns life into a stage where even the darkest mystery can be transformed into comedy.
The reason Psych endures is not just the mysteries or the jokes — it’s that Shawn embodies something timeless. We need tricksters because they remind us not to take authority too seriously, not to stop questioning, and not to lose the joy of play.
In other words: the pineapple may be silly, but it’s also sacred. 🍍
