Little Journal Of Words

I often look at the crooked corners of my house and find potted plants placed ever so carefully by my mother. There's something about the way she nurtures her plants that reminds me of all the ways she nurtured me. As I gaze at them with a paperback in hand, I can't help but reminisce about the moments she spent teaching me how to identify a certain flower, differentiate between similar-looking trees, or spot a specific bird among others, even though she knew I'd forget the very next second. But I'll never forget the summer evenings we strolled through her rooftop garden, the rainy afternoons when she couldn't be contained indoors (she loves the rain), and the winter mornings when I sat among the houseplants to study, read, or journal. Maybe it was in those moments that I felt most like myself, free from external obligations. Perhaps that’s why, no matter where I go, nature will always remind me of my mother. -Ananya Gupta

  Fall is such a foreign concept for people living in my country. All my life, I’ve wanted to put on a Halloween costume on the 31st of October, but unfortunately, that never happened. So, I try to live vicariously through reading creepy books and watching my comfort shows and movies. Even though it’s supposed to be a festival to ward off evil and spirits, somewhere, I find comfort in it. It feels like my entire childhood is defined by the number of Halloweens I spent, much like Christmas.  Maybe I’m just blabbering right now, but there’s a bit of contentment in this. It has been a while since I’ve written something just because I wanted to write. This stream-of-consciousness style of writing seems to be helping me a lot. After a certain age, everything around us seems to lose its vibrancy. However, there are moments like this where one can find ease even in the mundane. I cannot believe how fast we’re flying through this year, yet somewhere, time stands still.