Good evening.

Writing this one from a warm, cosy corner I’ve found in Oshiwara. I’ll start right away.

One. Today is Day 7/30 for these blogs.

This is Day 7 of writing these blogs. Which is literally a week’s time. And you know what — come to think of it, doing things regularly is not all that hard. And not the absolute impossible for me. I can do it. Still. Because I’ve done it in the past. I thought I lost the muscle. Turns out, I’ve still got it. That’s a reassuring feeling. There just might be hope for me.

Today, I came across Raghvi’s video on 100 days of consistency and other weekly challenges she had for herself. And the current one of building an agency and an office in Bangalore by September this year. I’ve been following her for a while and went to one of her Core Circle events in September last year — fun times.

Anyhow, that got me thinking. I should start upping my consistency challenges. And off-late, I’ve also tried to stick to the plan. On most days. Small steps. No judging + criticising + shaming myself on the misses. And choosing better for the next opportunity I get. That’s the crux of The Inner Game of Tennis after all. Three things — Trust + allow yourself to do things well. Don’t beat yourself too much. Focus. I might even say, all of therapy might revolve around navigating these three things. Recognising the roadblocks and finding tools to help solve them. For me it was.

Two. The sounds we fill our lives with.

I’ve thought about this a lot. How I never let my internal monologue play on it’s own. From the moment I wake up to being in a rickshaw a to a college lecture to even doing skincare and daily chores at the end of the day — there’s always something playing. Spotify Daylists (yes, I let some random algorithm decide what vibes I step out of the house with), cafe sounds, rain theme music, all that. There’s almost always something.

Rarely ever been a time when I’m sitting with my thoughts. Doing nothing but hearing my thoughts. Yet they are always there. Fighting their way with my outside sounds to come chink my conscience. So much so, that my therapist even told me to stop consuming all media — books, music, movies, essays, etc — for a week and see what comes out.

But sounds are an interesting part of our lives. I still remember my school bus horn. And hated it when they changed it. Someone in my family hates pooping in the quiet. So they play some music or keep the water running. A few people have told me that the quiet you hear after you family has visited you in your home in a different city for a week and then left is very heartbreaking. Stuff like that. Sounds that add context to your life. Naturally occurring or made up. But that.

Three. I often miss home.

I grew up in a beautiful house in Gorakhpur. It was what Dada Ji and Mummy (my grand-mum) built for us. Some of my best days have been there. A few memories I really adore is hanging like a sloth on the Lychee trees. Reading through the vast library of books. Setting up my make-believe corners — doctor’s office, shopping mall, college classrooms, etc – on the loft in the guest room. Many more really.

When I was a little kid, the house seemed huge to me. The walls were the widest canvas to doodle on and the ceilings were so high I could never dream of putting up radium stars. The trees outside felt big and distant. Like I’d have to take huge flights to reach them, had I been a bird. I could do some 20 cartwheels in the living room. Funny feeling. Over time, it started feeling smaller. And no, I am not being poetic about this. It really did start feeling small. I had painted half the canvas and the remaining didn’t look so big. I could reach the ceilings if I use a couple tables. The trees were a specific feet and inches away. And sadly, the 20 cartwheels became 6. I had just grown up — and bigger.

Coincidentally, when I started realising this, I’d moved out of town for high school. A new place in Delhi. And then, I’d visit perhaps once a year. Holi or Diwali. It’s been that way since. Or lesser. Some time back, we also took down the house to build a commercial space there. And a new house. I wasn’t around to see it. I did visit once and it felt pretty weird to go back to Gorakhpur but not live in the house that was once home. The family was on a group-call discussing housewarming dates for the new place. I know I am going to only be a visitor there now. Holi or Diwali, if at all. And won’t have a room of my own — full of all kinds of knick knacks. There. Or any place. And that’s life. But I often miss that house. The one I grew up in. I always will.

Lastly. Micro-thoughts from the day.

1. I slept for some 11 hours last night. Really needed it. Thank lord for the Sundays. Woke up to the stories on Lollapalooza and the many, many threads on AI agents I have my notifications turned on for.
2. I want to say it was a wander-ous Sunday. Whatever that means. First, I did not know what to make of it. Then, I made a plan. Then, a friend surprised me with the most pleasant visit. I ended up just chatting and chilling. Finished a little work. And that’s it.
3. Oh, I also got a water gun today. Got me super excited. Will take my friend for a fight round in the refuge area after I finish writing this. Now I am excited for Holi!
4. Tomorrow might be a day off from college. I always love those. Maybe I’ll go out in the morning. Record some content for a couple of things. Yay!
5. And this all, folks.
6. Sayonara!
7. (No, this is not a typo. I found it really cool.)
8. ((I also have no pictures from the day.))