Recipe for happiness

I wrote this for one of my best friends, Hope. Hope made first year of college so memorable and I don’t know what I would have done without her!

So some time ago, she got a prompt for her creative writing class to write a poem which is a recipe or something like that. I don’t remember exactly but we ended up talking a lot about it and she told me to write her a recipe for happiness and I said I would try and write something really cheesy or whatever. But like I got so busy and didn’t end up doing it till now. I wrote it a few days back and sent it to her. It’s very basic and cheesy (and crappy) but anyway, this is it –

It’s simple you see

Just add the required ingredients

And happy you’ll feel!

A bunch of books mixed with a cup of green tea

Add a view of the hills but no noisy company

Conversations with friends on moon lit, starry nights,

Quiet presence of friends over breakfast and lunch

Add to that a dash of poetry and a spoonful of dark humor

And you’ve got yourself the foundation layer.

Here comes the crucial bit, be careful with this one –

Add a big spoonful of sisterly love and sibling rivalry

Then couple that with the love for and of your parents

And the dish is almost ready!

Now mix some personal growth and dreams

And throw a little music into the mix

Garnish the dish with independent adventures and travel

And happy you’ll be!


Hope is one of the best people I’ve met and I’m going to miss her so much.

I love you.

love?

You know those nights when you think that you won’t make it to tomorrow? and then she just holds you and just sits with you. doesn’t try to tell you that it’ll get better or don’t cry. she just lets you cry and be. And she lets you curl up in her bed and just lie there and be panicky and she sees you shaking and asks if it would be okay for her to hold your hand and you don’t know what to say. yes hold my hand. you make me feel safe. you’re one of the very few people who make me feel safe. how or why i do not know because i haven’t known you for that long but i love you. if i know what love is, that is.


Again, i don’t usually write like this. i usually write with good punctuation and proper capital letters and all that stuff. but lately i have just been writing whatever i’m thinking and in whatever way i’m thinking. if this is what comes out when i sit down to write then this is what i’m going to post. this post was written so furiously and i don’t know i guess i just had to get it all out and i didn’t want to wait to put capital letters properly and all that.

All I Could Do

My sister and I slept in my mom’s room that night.

We left the dining room light on.

The phone rang sometime around half past 2

And we knew.

In hushed voices my mom told me take care of my sister

(like that needed to be said)

and she went to wake dida up.

Sometimes I feel like I wasn’t me in those few days.

Well I was me but it was strange, more mechanical.

When his body was brought home for the last rites

I was told to stay in the kids’ room with my sister and cousin

The room door opened, my mother had come to get something.

13 year old me, very curious; peeked outside.

Heard someone wailing.

I was wearing black shorts and an off white top that day.

I insisted I wanted to go for the cremation.


Sorry this is such a disjointed piece. I was pretty much just thinking and typing and I usually don’t like these kinds of things cuz I don’t want to edit my thinking. I don’t know if that makes sense but yeah. Also, “All I Could Do” is the tittle of a song by Kimya Dawson and I was listening to it while writing and I think it fits perfectly!

 

Dida

The sound of her talking to the gardener wakes me up in the morning

the sound of her watering the plants

she’s the keeper of the plants even takes care of the ugly ones

and that’s how I know that she’ll take care of me.

 

She’s like a radio playing the same old Bengali songs on repeat

that my dadu used to play on that old stereo

the one that only played cassettes

and that’s how I know that she misses him.

 

She’s an alarm that goes off every Thursday evening

asking whether I’m coming home that weekend

tries to tempt me with aloo posto and chicken biryani

and that’s how I know that she needs me.

 

The aloo posto, the half smile while she hums that one song, the flowers she wants me to photograph, they say it all.


This is just something I wrote about my dida (grandmother)

Dadu means grandfather

Aloo Posto and chicken biryani are names of some of my favourite dishes.

 

Poetic-ish

I had to read Amir Khusrau’s poetry for my Great Books class and I came across these lines in one of the poems and I fell in love.

“You always tell me, ‘My elixir
is sweet.’ If you ask Khusrau, darling,
he’ll tell you that it’s poison, too.” 

Also, if it’s not obvious enough, I LOVE spoken word poetry. And while I can never pick a favorite poem, I really like this one so here you go!

 

 

Happiness

Happiness is seeing your little sister smile as she finally learns to tie her own shoe laces.
Happiness is seeing your student get a twinkle in their eye as they finally understand that pesky math problem.
Happiness is seeing your mom cry tears of joy at your graduation.
Happiness is erupting into laughter in the middle of class over an inside joke with your friends.
Happiness is seeing your friend eat after starving herself for so long.
Happiness is reading a book that soothes your soul.
People say happiness is elusive, but is it really?
Happiness is the little things in life, it’s everywhere.
You just have to open your eyes, mind and soul to it.

This post is part of the Happiness Project hosted by Sydney. This is a really cool project and you should definitely check it out and her blog is definitely worth reading! 🙂

Missing you

You’ve been gone a long while now
And yet I still miss you as much.

I miss how your nose crinkled up when you laughed
And I miss how you could always make me laugh.

And even though I think about you everyday,
I’m learning to live without you, day by day.

Kind of realizing that you can miss things,
Without wanting them back in your life!

 

Let Me In

I have been sitting here for a while now, trying to write something for you.
Something to make you believe that I do mean it when I say I love you and I’m here for you.
I understand that you’re scared and I’m scared too.
But please let me in, I won’t hurt you.