Postcards from Marine Drive — hum, ham-ing, aur aap

 Maybe, whilst not being on the lookout for it, I found my slice of sukoon, something that once seemed too utopian a concept to be mine.

With everything in me, if I were to string words together to define what it is, I would be at a sheer loss of words, yet it would always amount to a single one: you.

Sukoon is nothing but a state of existence where the heart and mind are utterly calm, yet eagerly vested in acknowledging the profound and all-encompassing charm that defines bliss. To me, that bliss spells as your name. For what else could it be, when days commence with you and nights fade into hues of dusk, all inscribing your name on the badge my soul proudly flaunts for being yours.

In all the languages I know, my thoughts would always read like a poem about you, and still, that would not encapsulate even an inkling of the sea of tenderness I carry within my heart for you.

If only I could open my heart to show you what I cannot pour into words, perhaps you would finally fathom everything I would utter only for you.

You have walked right out of my dreams, a muse for perfection, of all I could ever ask for. You read me like a book; every metaphor is etched for you within it, every obscure phrase carries a fragment of my soul. You decipher every unuttered word, every held-back sentiment, even those my shadow dares not be aware of. You read me in a way I have always wanted to be read, in every way I have ever wanted to be understood.

My soul gravitates towards nothing but you, and yours. You make it all sound so simple that it baffles me. How could someone walk into your world one fine day and cause you to believe it is where they always belonged?

Belonged, and I have longed for what even my heart and mind speak too little about. Yet somehow, my soul has whispered to you, and yours has embraced mine with a warmth so soothing I could forget everything, even myself, but remember you.

You and I are not two halves, but two wholes that piece together a puzzle complete. You could very well finish my sentences, yet in all partiality I cannot diminish us to being just partials. We augment and complement each other, together forming what would be a marvel of a symphony.

So, monsieur, be my forever muse, and I shall be yours. In all honesty, you make me feel much more than I can ever put together in words, with a heart so beautifully overwhelmed by your love.

That is what compels me to tell you how I feel, for you do not falter even for a moment in describing how you feel for me.

Oh, to be loved like an ode to love itself; ah, to it being a 'what if' you have cocooned me into an 'absolutely'.

_________________

Marine Drive - hum, humming aur tum

A playlist stitched from a long drive’s echoes — the songs, the silences, the touch, the glances, and the quiet longing and adoration they carry. Each became a core memory, and so did this list, a time capsule of it all.

The postcards from it are moments and emotions captured through the lens and in lazy scribbles, preserved in their most raw form. 

Capitalism of the Heart: An Era of Emotional Transactions

Stemming from the post:

https://www.instagram.com/p/DMTURNatFex7mSVj-lnLw44KXrRF_otivctpH80/?igsh=MThuZGF5MTFjMTBzaQ==

This might sound a little strange, but I’ve been thinking a lot about how we’ve come to normalize ignorance — and not just normalize it, but position it as something acceptable, even admirable. We’re constantly told to be the “bigger person,” to not take things personally, to process difficult interactions with grace. And while all of that makes sense in moderation, we’ve taken it so far that we’ve turned numbness into a virtue.

We treat kindness, consideration, and selflessness as anomalies. We make those who express care feel like they're overstepping. Somewhere along the way, we decided that being emotionally distant is a strength, and that warmth is weakness. That if you’re expressive, present, giving — you’re too much.

People speak as though withholding connection is noble. That valuing yourself means limiting what you offer to others. But when did valuing yourself become synonymous with being unkind? When did we start calling arrogance “self-worth”? The line between confidence and narcissism has been blurred to the point of absurdity. And instead of questioning it, we reward it.

It’s not just about interpersonal ties either. This rigidity seeps into everything — friendships, workplace hierarchies, even family dynamics. We've built invisible ladders of expression, where seniors, parents, or even peers learn to hold back sincerity to maintain some sense of superiority. It's no longer just about respect — it's about control.

What baffles me is how natural we’ve made it feel to manage people, to control narratives, to guard our expressions not out of integrity, but out of strategy. As if connection is a transaction to be negotiated. As if being honest about your feelings will somehow lower your value.

We’ve started treating emotional expression like a limited resource. The less you give, the more you're worth. The moment you become available, you're disposable. And honestly, that sounds less like human connection and more like a concept straight out of an economics textbook.

Low supply = high demand.

Don’t be too responsive.

Don’t care too loudly.

Don’t give too freely.

We’ve applied market theory to our feelings. We’ve constructed an emotional economy where sincerity is undervalued and distance is a premium good. And the saddest part is that we’ve justified it all. We’ve over-explained manipulation until it sounds like wisdom. We’ve turned strategy into morality.

But here's the thing: if someone is sensitive, expressive, or soft-hearted, why do we treat that as something to fix? Why do we shame the very qualities we should be protecting? Since when did empathy become a liability? Since when did restraint become the gold standard for human connection?

Why are we pushing this narrative?

Why are we still pretending that deprivation creates depth?

And why aren’t we talking more about the fact that the real issue isn’t how kindness is shown — it’s how it’s received in a world that no longer knows what to do with it?