Dishonest Reflections

The Toxicant

All this that you see here, that’s not me. Let my actions not define me today for I am much more, and I daresay, much better than this.


The Toxicant (Source)

I was left to figure out ‘my life’- high and dry.
‘Go to hell’ – his last words to me before he slammed the door shut. Hell doesn’t seem all that bad actually.

And as far as the drugs are concerned, I don’t do them to forget him. I occasionally do them to forget myself.

Dishonest Reflections

Bed time’s over. I’m welcomed by reality. Reality that’s silently ticking away – second after second.

Books don’t comfort me any more. Movies don’t entertain even minutely. I can’t even go back to being what I was a few weeks ago. He’s left me in a labyrinth daring me to find the right way out.


Dishonest Reflections (Source)

You should call him – they suggested. I was amused. You see, I can’t see forgiveness if he can’t see the crime.

The High

I’ve now realized I don’t affect him enough to change the way he thinks. Not trying anymore. Not sulking anymore.

Play your part right. Trust yourself. Worked for me. I never felt I could actually overcome grief. I did.


The High (Source)

I feel like I’m in my best senses presently. I’ve surrendered myself to life. Letting go of my emotions never felt this good. You should try it sometime.

Unbalanced Emotions

These past few weeks have been nothing short of a race. I’d been trying to juxtapose my griefs and laughter, trying to find which one outweighs the other. I couldn’t.

Not like I’m unhappy though. Things that used to make me happy still make me smile. And I smile too! Just need to attach reasons behind it.


Unbalanced Emotions (Source)

I feel stronger, both mentally and emotionally. Who knows – maybe tomorrow, I’ll find a way out of this maze. Maybe tomorrow, my laughter will be louder than my cries.

Let’s wait for tomorrow, shall we?


I’d like to thank Surabhi for being so amazing during the shoot. She’s ever so fun to work with! You can find her blog here.


One With Nature

Incipient Intuition

She kept searching for the sweet smell that was all around her.


Aromatic Abstract (Source)

She never realized until she plucked the flower that it was her own smell she found so alluring.


She pulled the flower closer just to be sure.


More than just Petals (Source)

Then it struck her- She’d just pulled a part of her closer to herself.

One with Nature

Now she knows she’s a part of nature. She’s in the air she breathes. She’s in the water she drinks.


Freebird (Source)

She’s one of us. She’s one of them. She’s everything. She’s everyone.

New Meaning

You’re all the same as her. You probably just haven’t realized it yet.


Carry You Home (Source)

Don’t live like a slave who’s born into a dark world of disease. Live without guilt, live with compassion and let life carry you home.


A big thank you to Smriti Singh for helping me out with this one. You can follow her work here.

This is Me

The ‘Selectively-Social’

I’ve never been the extrovert people perceive me to be. Sometimes I feel I am like this big ball of confused emotions trapped to take decisions to with no discretion of my own.


Picking up Love (Source)

I don’t know why people think I’m straightforward. It’s like every time I talk to them, it’s not me but my vicarious self, participating in the conversation .

You know what I actually like to do? I like to read. Period.

And every time when I continue where I left off, I also like to guess the page number before checking the bookmark for fun.

The Thinker.

Not a day passes when I don’t write ‘something’ – Inside the metro when I travel, or perhaps when I’m sipping on a leisurely coffee at my desk in the office.
I don’t do it to impress anyone. And, I don’t have to ‘maintain’ a diary. It maintains itself.


Safe Haven (Source)


I write random. I read unique. I don’t care about its author as much as I care about the content.

Some things in life are meant to take you to your safe haven. I’m pretty sure I’ve found mine.

The Penner.

Reading gives me power. Writing gives me peace.
At times, a book interests me more than anything else. At times, a pen invests me more than anything.


In Power, In Peace (Source)

I’m yet to shift to the ‘Nex-Gen e-books’, though. Yes, you guessed right! I’m not tech savvy either.

Does that make me weird?
I won’t answer that.
My diary will.


Smriti Singh has been staying in New Delhi since the last four years and she’s been working as a professional HR. As you might have guessed already, she loves to read and write! She is the entertainment factor in her friend circle and bets that no one can be bored when she’s around! You can find out more about her here.

This was my second attempt at making such a compilation. It was fun shooting for the photo-story. I hope you liked it as much as we did, making it for you. Cheers! 🙂

He’s Coming Home

Almost there

Weekly backlogs completed. Check.
Festival long weekend. Check.
Looking at the watch every five minutes. Check.
Humming cheesy songs and giggling. Check.


He’s on his way (Source)


The algorithm is going perfectly. The pillows drenched by tears for four months, the frustrations, the fights, the hopeless pining, are all meticulously brewing into an intoxicating concoction. Here I sit, nervously twitching at my ring, giving my finger weird bruises. My heart skips a beat or two every three seconds. I nervously hold my breath so as to check my erratic heartbeats. He’s on his way. He’s coming home, from far, far away.

Getting Ready

While I worry and stress about what I’ll wear and how I’ll look and what I’ll talk to him about when I meet him for the first time after all this time, I take a break and laugh a little at myself. I’ve never had to worry about this stuff with him.


Last Minute Shenanigans (Source)

I long to tousle his (oh so long!) hair, hold his head in my lap and blush like I’m 14 again. I long to wear my smile, the one that he loves, while I make him wait for me before our dates. I long to see those frantic messages that buzz on my cell phone every ten seconds when I’m late, and to see that face break into an all-forgiving smile when he sees me. I long for him to grab my hand silently when no one’s looking. I long for all those little details of my life that had gone missing while we dueled with work and education and whatnot.

His presence is a present

The distance isn’t going away. It is a week away. But that doesn’t stop us from living it up now, right? I press my ears to hear his car zoom into the colony gates. I’m sure I can hear him unload his luggage and push the lift doors open. He’s home.


He’s Home! (Source)

“Hour of nostalgia, hour of happiness, hour of solitude,
hour that is mine from among them all!”
P.S: Neruda all the way.


The words in this post were provided by my dearest, Pallavi Siddhanta, who is a student of BHU. She’s presently working for MakeMyTrip.
Find out more about her by following her blog, which can be found here.
This was my first attempt at such a photo-story. I hope you liked it as much as we did, making it for you.
I’d also like to thank Nripa Vyas for providing me with the stoles for the shoot. She has her own blog, which can be found here.
Additionally, more pictures from the shoot can be found on her behance- here.