Welcoming back the Sun...Imbolc 2025


 

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 Always wished my man would give me flowers. Never received any from the ones I seriously dated—at least none that I can recall. And then, finally, I did. In Thiruvannamalai, a string of jasmine garland, to be pinned onto my hair… at 4:30 AM on the last Sunday of October 2024, while awaiting the darshan of Arunachaleshwar. Gifted to me by my fiancé—the one I met 7 years ago, but with whom love (and the courage to admit it) blossomed only recently. It wasn’t just flowers; it was a long-awaited symbol of love, timing, and destiny. The Universe had been preparing me for this moment all along. ✨
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 “I could not live in any of the worlds offered to me — the world of my parents, the world of war, the world of politics. I had to create a world of my own, like a climate, a country, an atmosphere in which I could breathe, reign, and recreate myself when destroyed by living. That, I believe, is the reason for every work of art. The artist is the only one who knows the world is a subjective creation, that there is a choice to be made, a selection of elements. It is a materialization, an incarnation of his inner world. Then he hopes to attract others into it, he hopes to impose this particular vision and share it with others. When the second stage is not reached, the brave artist continues nevertheless. The few moments of communion with the world are worth the pain, for it is a world for others, an inheritance for others, a gift to others, in the end. When you make a world tolerable for yourself, you make a world tolerable for others.” –Anaïs Nin
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I know you would never visit this blog again.

 And that's why I would write all the sordid things I would ever feel and go through.  And then one day, maybe when I am gone, whether temporarily or permanently, you would re-read our WhatsApp chats (if not deleted, as you prefer a clean slate always) and find the link back to this blog. And to me..
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