The Hazy Road

​We're the broken-hearted. We're the romantics. We're the stressed, the depressed, the oppressed. We're the revolution, the result of evolution. We're the lost, the distraught, the complaining lot. We're the broke, the overdosed, the confused smoke. We're the epoch, the bedrock, the much sought. We're debauched, and we've been popping in pills each night like they're confectionery. Manufacturing peace and calm by the early morning. Addicted to anxiety like it's daily medication. Overdosing on pills to give attention to the outside and be blind to our insides. We're breaking apart, we're half-broken, and half devastated, but we need no fixing. We need no fixing. evolution of doom Written by Yash Raj Talan [note to self: one day, i sincerely hope, you shall look back at this, and understand that these days are gone. hopefully.]

//we are the light at the end of the tunnel. we're just fumbling for the switch. // It's not a big deal. It's a play. All of us, actors. Very good ones. Running on our beats. Beats embedded in our hearts, beats screaming in our heads, beats getting louder and louder, as if they're leading up to something big, something important. Something different. But nothing's different. We're walking. Still unclear about where, or why. There is a script. There must be, for the words we say are sparking connections in people and new characters are easing into the play, developing vigour, and progressing further and further till they fall out of words, till they have no more lines to say. They leave in quiet exits, without a song to bid them farewell, without a pause to see where to leave for. They just leave. But it's somewhat peculiar. There isn't a mirror to see our faces and know where our expressions are going wrong. No soundproofing to hear oursel...

It's okay to be broken. You! Yes, you staring at the screen trying to make sense of these words so precisely placed in a certain order with the supposed objective of conveying meaning; you're complete, okay? Everything you've done, every time you've tried remembering who you are, every night you've wished to pass away sooner, faster, less painfully; it's all worth it. Get up. Wash away the pain. Dry the tears. And do what you'd do if nobody else in the world mattered except you; if the world was ready to hear what you have to say. If they were actually, truly, ready for you. Yes, I'm asking for hope. Stop giving close to nothing to yourself. Come on. You're someone who gets to the top of that high cliff and doesn't want to scream to express how liberating it feels. You'd much rather just sit back, away from all the chaos. You're someone who looks up, instead of down below and walks away knowing you'd rather stru...

We're still alive. Facades have healed the burnt skin underneath. The delirium has subsided. Life has survived. I'd tell you how this happened, of course I would. I'd let you in on the Secret, but you'd have to die for it. A million times. And emerge stronger each time, like a golden Phoenix, resurrected by spirit and reborn with resolution. You'd have to breathe deeper than your lungs can take in, and let reality take it all out of you. You'd have to wish this made more sense than it does now, and pray there is a destiny. A script to direct your next words. And decide your next epiphany. You'd have to scream, and you'd have to smile. And most important of all, you'd have to honestly, deeply, passionately fall in love. You'd have to love. That's how we stay alive. how to stay alive Written by Yash Raj Talan [note to self: facades choke you, but sometimes they teach you to smile]

Every time you face the mirror Your reflection wants to cry. Every time you face the mirror Your face forgets to smile. So you say nothing, And you look away For you know nothing Will fix this, anyway. And you tell me, You have no worth. Let me tell you, You're a fault line In the Earth Ready to destroy Everything in line, Everything in sight. So bring in all your pain, All your sighs, All your worries, All your cries, All who hurt you, All you couldn't forgive, All who broke you, All who made you this, And make them all stand in line In the line of fire, And let your world shake, Shake with all its might, For it's never too late To finally wake up tonight. And if that isn't enough, If you don't feel enough, Here's a truth for you to swallow A pill that cures all voids: Complete is the greatest lie, For to be complete is To be ready to be destroyed. forever incomple- Written by Yash Raj Talan [note to self: ne...

Today, there are no last words. No goodbyes. No 'phir milenge'. No 'best of luck'. No emotional texts. Time doesn't stand still, and this moment, we can't preserve this. We'll spend our lives trying to convince ourselves this day was among the best days of our lives, and we'll try to remember the faces, and their spaces in our hearts. So we've captured smiles in selfies, and we're quietly hoping the smile sticks just a few years longer. We need the shaadi ki biryaani, after all. We need company. Today, we're here. Alive. Almost ready to face the world ahead. Almost ready to be awesome-r, better, smarter, and most importantly, greater than who we are. And what we are is legends in the making. And legends have tragic backstories too. So don't be afraid if raaho me thoda fisal jao. Just remember the mistakes, and live your days a bit kinder, happier, worthier, if that makes sense. The fear is medicine for you to get better. Do not ov...

​Choose Life. Choose a college. Choose a career. Choose your soulmate. Choose bigger smartphones, choose cruiser bikes, cars, Bluetooth headsets and electric kettles. Choose good shape, low fat, and dieting. Choose easy pay credit cards. Choose a 2BHK apartment. Choose your friends. Choose binge-watching, guilt-snacking, and window shopping and make yourself feel what passes for happy. Choose stories, snaps, and double tap; human interaction reduced to nothing more than data. Choose thirteen reasons why Salman Khan is better than everyone else. Choose screaming about illogical statements. Choose beef jokes, unrealistic ideals, blackmailing and an endless tide of depressing misogyny. Choose this life is a lie, and if it isn't, Rick and Morty is God. Choose memes on T-shirts and matching bags. Choose a three-piece suit bought for one-time use in a range of fabrics. Choose home delivery and wondering who the hell you are on Sunday morning. Choose sitting...

​I don't know how it happened, but somewhere along the way, we grew up too fast. We were the '90s kids. Lost in our worlds. Not phones and Tinder and Instagram. But people, and pranks, and cycle rides, and cricket, and football, and badminton, and just playing around and racing. We sat on benches, and balconies, and rooftops, without cellphones in hands to capture the beauty of the world. We never really could, could we? We couldn't replace sleeping on rooftops, under the starry sky, wondering if now is all there is. We couldn't replace laughing so hard we felt tired, and our stories weren't about dates, no. We were questioning the simple. Looking at airplanes cut through the sky and wondering about their destinations. We'd wonder about our destination, so some other kid could one night look up and see us. Whatever happened to those air bubbles? And the tazzos? Collectible cards, and those beyblades, and saving money for them. Those small Frooti...

Scroll down your endless enamoured Facebook feed. Go on. Give a piece of your mind to whatever insignificant junk that demands it. Words after words after words manipulating your entire life into moods you didn't even want. Trust a freaking artificial intelligence algorithm to know you better. React to random photographs of random people you see every other day, and people you don't (want to...?). Seek attention with photographs of the same face you've had for years, taken in different angles, hoping someone somewhere cares that you exist. Laugh at a bright digital screen because that's what your life has come to, and you're now wondering if you're a sick waste of space, and air, and time, regretting having lost those minutes, hours, days of your life then, and more suddenly important minutes now. Fuck that. It took me a few generalizations to tell you what's wrong with your broken life. Sadness is a trend. Happiness is a smiling face. Laughter is a f...

Look at yourself. Running from deadline to deadline, with no stopping for a breath. Locked up in your own world, forgetting that it's your own. Living by the bell of the clock blaring in your ears every hour of the day. Ignoring pain for months, and befriending silence, the ultimate enemy. Blabbering a bunch of complaints while nodding off all responsibility. You're good at pretending. You're pathetic. Listen to me, you were not always like this. There was a time when you smiled more often. Your mind was enslaved by your heart strings. You did not just accept life. You questioned it, stood up to it, and fought for what you wanted. You ran for something greater. Listen to me, you were not always like this. You were looking for something, something beyond what you termed as the "usuals." It was something old, something that must be yours soon. Something waiting to be re-discovered. Your eyes shined when someone told you about a coding dilemma, or a mind...