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Letting go

Skyline of Andheri West, with a murder of crows framing the view
The view from my room

I suppose I’ll just pretend like there hasn’t been a passage of time since the last blog post. It’s easier than explaining an absence of 3 months.

I’ve had a lot on my plate. Or more like a few things have consistently occupied 90% of my headspace, leaving no room for any sort of creative activity. A cocoon of frustration, if you will. Super dramatic?! Yup, absolutely!

3 girls in a mirror
A photo with my flatmates

The thing is, I had to let go of my apartment. An apartment that I’ve had for over 3 years, but one that I grew attached to during the 4 month house arrest due to the pandemic. This should’ve been a relief, considering the rent took up more than half of my pay cheque and I was still paying for it even though I am back home. But it wasn’t so. All the nitty-gritty of packing and moving aside, It felt as though I was a minute late to board a train and my poor stamina couldn't keep up with it’s speed.

A girl on a brown couch
Self portraiture in the living room

People have different coping mechanisms. Mine most certainly is to write. Pour my feelings onto paper. Post it. Burn it. Tear it apart. Whatever have you. And so I decided to send postcards to people. Postcards of Coorg/Mysore. An attempt to get used to the idea that I’d be here for a bit. A way of telling people I’ve moved, but I think it was mostly to tell myself.

A bunch of postcards
Postcards sent out in October

I’m sure we’ve all had to let go of something. A dream. A job. A person. A city. An apartment. Should it get easier every time you’ve to let go? Or does it suck as much, if not more?

Is there an art of letting go?

Postcard with an airplane and interesting clouds
Transit in Bangalore


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