HAMPI- Exploring the Unexplored!!!

I know, after more than a year, while I decide to write, why would I write on such an off-road topic- Travel, while its probably not even my style to write travel stories. I know it’s not, I realised it, while I was writing it. But this was a memorable trip, memorable one because, I did go there with an agenda and also with the aim in mind to get the maximum out of the money spent on the trip. How busy do we usually get in making the expense of our trip worth-while that we forget that the aim of going on a trip is probably not to check off certain tourist spots off the list but the sole purpose is to gather an experience you wouldn’t on a routine basis. It could be while discovering the place or checking the sight-seeing things off your list or could be just an interesting conversation over a cup of coffee, or even just sharing stories with a stranger during the journey. A new destination is usually just a catalyst for a new experience. Similarly, this trip was set with an agenda- to witness the historical stories via the ruins, but it changed completely with a decision to let spontaneity take the front seat, and what followed after that was beyond my imagination.

History alone never fascinated me, when I was a student. I used to call it 'Unwanted Stories of the Dead', however as I grew, history mixed with geography of a place and joining the dots of past and present became my favourite activity. Having heard about the historical stories and the grandeur of the Vijayanagara empire hidden in those old boulders and ruins made me really fascinated to visit the place and I kept coaxing my friends and cousins to accompany me to the trip to Hampi. However it not being a tourist destination, I couldn’t succeed in grabbing anyone’s attention. I kept searching online looking for the travel stories and blogs about the place. The more that I read about it, the more I lusted to visit the place, not just for historical relevance anymore. 

Finally, one of my cousins managed to agree to my request of visiting this mesmerising place brimming with stories and thus we ended up taking a road trip to Hampi.

Road map to Hampi from Bangalore

We travelled from Bangalore via the road. It was a 364 kms span which we covered within 7 and half hours taking a leisurely breakfast and lunch break. The route was simple with a posh 6 lane national highway upto Chitradurga via Tumkur Road, then taking the Hiriyur Highway towards Chitradurga, which was a dreamy run with winding roads along with hills on one side of the road interspersed with windmill farms. The bypass that we took after passing Chitradurga led us to a narrower lane- a two lane state highway with road construction work going on, slowing down the speed of the drive a bit but not our spirits. While on the road, having the dabba-wala idlis on the side of the road is totally worth a stop and highly recommended. As soon as we crossed Hospet, we were welcomed by old gate like ruins screaming- 'You have finally arrived in Hampi', as if giving a glimpse of what’s in store as you drive ahead. The road following there was surrounded by huge boulders on both sides. The city of Hampi is divided into two parts by a river- Tungabhadra and people know the place by this side- the Hampi village or the other side of the river- Virapapur Gadde or famously known as the Hippie Island.

WindMill farms en-route

We reached the hotel. It was a nice, cozy warm room. After freshening up after the long drive as we sat in the hotel cafe to have some tea, we started making plans for that evening of going to the Hippie Island on the other side of the river. While talking, we saw two French girls, relaxing and enjoying by the pool-side. They looked chilled out and fun-loving and seemed to have been around the city a bit, so I went upto them to get a first hand review of the places that were only in words up until now. Unfortunately, they didn’t know much but they offered us to join them for climbing the other morning, and wanting to be spontaneous, we agreed to join them. That evening was still reserved for the hippie island. There were two ways of crossing the river- 10 minute coracle ride through the waters (really exciting and adventurous) or a 35 minute drive. Since we thought of returning late- it was safer to take the car. We drove to the Hanuman temple first- which is known to be the birth place of lord Hanuman. As the sunset progressed the sky metamorphosed its bright yellow sunny shine into a deeper orange and then into pomegranate pink, painting the ruins and the boulders into beautiful sunset hues. 

Sunset Hues

Once the sunset was enveloped by the greyish brown dusk, turning darker and darker into night, we drove to explore the ‘Hippie’ part of the island. We saw a muddy-mucky street with paddy fields on one side and with unattended shacks. It promised to be a bustling street on a good day, but that day seemed to be an off-day of some sorts. We went into a cafe- Nargilas- (highly recommended by internet reviews) to have our dinner. For a germaphobe like me it was as scary as a haunted castle. Low seating with dirty mattresses and cushions with musty odour, surrounding swamp with huge mosquitoes and barely there dim red lights and huge wall murals was the ambience of the place. It was empty-ish when we entered, but as the place kept filling up with people, it became more interesting. Being a couple of girls travelling by ourselves- I follow a safety rule of being back by 9- so we returned. 

The Nargils's Cafe

The next day- was going to be one of the most fun days of the trip. We went to the Hampi Bazaar where we met our guide -Sunny - who was going to take us bouldering. He was a jolly young boy with exotic looks and blondish brown hair and a made up exotic accent. This morning we crossed to the other side of the river, in a boat, and then wading our way to the big boulders which was our bouldering site. The boulders were such huge that it made me feel how insignificant and tiny is our existence in this big big world. We climbed up the boulders- some easily, some with difficulty, graduating to a bigger size every time. And at the end of each climb we were rewarded by the cool breeze and the breathtaking views of the city and the river. 

Bouldering- Breath-taking view after climbing the boulders

After the activity was over, we headed to grab a bite at a cafe, serving Iranian and variety of so-called continental food (you would find any place in Hampi offer these food choices), and our guide offered to take us for a cooling dip in the natural lake. Still going on with the spontaneity stint, we decided to go ahead with the plan and ditch the temples and the ruins for the next day. We had to walk through varied landscapes, like banana orchards, woods, shiny, slippery areas of the dried water body, and crossed a few caves to reach upto a water basin surrounded by big boulders with pristine cold water collected in it. We changed into our swim-wear in one of the caves and each one took a dip in the cold clear water from the boulder. It gave us a thrill of cliff-jumping. The guide was later joined by his friends who were competing for attention with their acrobatics and jumping off the highest boulder, into the water. We later dried ourselves on the rocks, exchanging each others stories and telling about our lives and wondering how, inspite of being from different parts of the world, the kind of similarity our thoughts had. We returned back and decided to wrap up the day by seeing the sunset at the Matang hill.

 Way to the lake

Natural lake surrounded by boulders

After the previous evening experience I had decided that I’m definitely not missing any of those magical sunsets. The guide who was quite friendly by now, too offered to join us for the sunset too and we were happy to have him on-board. The climb to the hill was simple and fuss-free. Just as we were reaching the top, it started drizzling and in a matter of minutes the drizzle turned into a down-pour. As a part of the reflex reaction- we ran helter-skelter to avoid the water, but then realised, we have been drenched more than half of the day already-so what the hell. We soaked our selves in the freshest of the water droplets pelting from the sky. As the clouds emptied themselves on the earth, the sky broke like an egg and gave birth to a full beautiful sunset and the water caught fire- quite literally. The prismatic effect of the rays of sunset piercing through the rain droplets gave birth to the most magnificent rainbow that started from the earth, touched the sky and embraced the earth back. It was a sight to behold. I can say that was the most beautiful sunset of my lifetime. Did I mention, that sunset is my favourite colour and the second is Rainbow, and having both at the same time makes the moment Oh so Magical. After the magical moments got over we danced a bit out of pure joy and fun of having spent an entire day without an itinerary  and yet a super fun and adventure filled day. 

The Magical Sunset- with Sun, Rainbow and pouring clouds- the combination of the three creating pure magic

Other breath-taking views of Hampi

The last day was finally the day for what I had set my foot in Hampi for, discovering the ruins. There were a few temples- Virupaksha Temple, Vitthala temple, Elephants stable, Queens bath, Lotus temple, Lakshmi Narasimha temple, Achyutraya temple, Hazara Rama temple. On my way I met a couple who were covering Hampi as a travel destination for a leading magazine and enjoyed sharing the stories that I knew about the place and hearing many more from them of people taking refuge here, finding solace in hampi and various means of finding solace and also talking and discussing about all the things possible. Once I was satisfied discovering the ruins was our time to say good bye to Hampi, however with so much excitement packed in a couple of days I was sure, I wasn’t saying Good bye at all, probably just wanted to say, “until the next time” and drove back to the hustle-bustle of our city life.

Vitthala Temple

Virupaksha Temple

Old Hampi Bazaar ruins

Stone Chariot with the musical pillars

Chasing Cities...

I want to chase the endless sunrises, I want to fulfil those promises of tomorrow;

The sand beneath my feet, the ocean that threatens to make me its own.

That wildness that pulsates in the dreams of millions, to tread on the paths that haven’t yet been shown.

But most of all, I want to chase cities with endless roads and the sparkle of the bright lights and blaring horn,

Wandering towards the dreams that my brave heart reserves, Only to return into the warm cuddle of my own home.

“Breathe, You are home.” I have always wanted a love that told me this.

I fleeted from heart to heart in search for it. The rom-coms have been digging up my hunger for the want of my Happily Ever After. That magical glance, those bells of fantasy ringing in the ears, that electrifying touch, the coalescing of the two souls and bodies, and that falling and rising in love. I hungrily waited for my prince, found him, lost him and so on... Sometimes it lasted for a moment and sometimes months or even years. Sometimes, I found people who wanted to share and fulfil their own desires and sometimes I found those who wanted to support my dreams. Sometimes I found someone who tried to give me scars and sometimes them, who tried covering mine with their kisses. Some wanted to anchor my wild heart and some wanted to give me stability.

But maybe my heart was never meant to be stable and the wildness could be only tamed by chaos. I don’t blame them; I never knew that, so how would they. But as I grew and learnt, there was no looking back. So I stitched my chest back up, hid my heart behind those scars, plastered a smile on my face and off I went.

I was charmed by moving to the new cities. ‘How do these nomads manage to be on the go always, Don’t they get tired?’ , this childhood query had become a way of life for me. I was dazed by the new streets, the new places that I would share with strangers. The thousand year old temple laden lanes of Chennai, or the bustling streets of Banaras on the ghats of river Ganga, the never stoppable spirit of Mumbai or the freshness of Nagpur, the warmth and scorching heat of Ahmedabad or the wet, cold weather of London, they all have been mine. And within these superficial qualities of the cities that I have lived in, are interwoven innumerable stories, the stories that are mine, the stories that make me, Me...

The unknown hello’s with promises to make great friends. Exploring the new places and new people gave me an adrenaline rush. It was like a treasure hunt, only in real life- discovering tiny secrets about new cultures, tasting their accents and dialects and trying to mingle. But what I loved the most was the packet of dreams that each place brought with itself. May it be a truth or a fantasy but it was a way of looking forwards to new things. It was like living a sunrise, ever so sparkly. The timidity of breaking the ice and the fear of saying a good bye became a thing of history. Discovering the fragility of the relationships (of any form), and the strength of the heart in believing in goodness within people was the most liberating lesson.

And somewhere between those shy hellos and forgotten good-byes, I found the love I so wanted. I found it in the crowds that didn’t care, the streets that refused to retire, the lights that shone too bright and the darkest silences in the night. It was the Love with myself, my story, and the cracks in my heart which let the light shine in.

Drowning in Despair!!!

Oh God! I can’t breathe, I’m suffocating!

All my senses are jumbled up.

Engulfed in ice cold water under thick  condensed air,

Arms flinging and rummaging in despair.

Trying to grope onto something,

Anything to hold on to, just anything.

Attempts to resurface from this whirlpool are vain,

All of the sudden effort to strive seemed in disdain.

Oh! I feel something holding me, to pull me up for a new breath,

A hope arises of escaping death.

Alas, it’s nothing but a sea-weed,

Putting an end to my utopia with nowhere to lead.

Strength of the soul seems to be vanishing in a jiff,

The anguish is, kind of, winning in this tiff.

Succumbing to the pressure of living, the limbs went limp,

The chances of survival were anyways very grim.

Failing attempts of resurfacing once in a while, to gulp a gasp of air,

Just to sink again in despair.

Just as seconds keep ticking, the will to live keeps weakening.

Eyes begin to blur and thoughts begin to slur.

Just as the brain is going into a daze,

The heart realises it has to keep its pace ablaze.

From the two choices that the mind had, it choose the easier one

Unprepared to face this unfair world where it would have never won

Glimpses of the life flashed through piece by piece

May the blessed soul rest in peace.

The ray of dawn did not succeed to revive the rubble

All that was visible was the light at the end of the tunnel.

The Silver Lining...

       

      

          They always say that Life is like a Sine wave. It has its crests and troughs. I have had a lot of troughs in past, but somehow this trough seemed like the hardest to me. I had been facing disappointments in each and every walk of life, be it personal or professional. There were times when I just wanted to sit in my car and cry (and I have done that quite a few times). I was in a ‘Rut’ as one of my friends told me. Portraying to be a strong woman has its own setbacks, doesn’t it? Makes you want to hide those vulnerable areas of life and pretend to be rock solid. I was rock solid all this while, whilst combating this huge forced sabbatical, at the same time stealing those little moments of breakdown with my own self. And all this on the month of my birthday and I was like,” ‘Why God why?’ It’s such a wrong timing to be feeling what I was.”

         Talking of timing- then happened ‘The Perfect Timing’. I kept dwelling on this defeatism until one day I came across this wonderful speech by Angelina Jolie for the Jean Hersholt Humanitarian Award she received at the 2013 Governor’s Award Function. She said, “Somewhere across the world there is a woman just like me with same abilities, same desires, same work ethics, and love for her family, who would make better films, and probably give better speeches. Only she sits in a refugee camp and she has no voice. She worries what her children would eat, how to keep them safe and if she will ever be allowed to return home. I don’t know why this is my life and that is hers. I don’t understand that. I feel that myself and everybody sitting in this room are so fortunate to have food to eat, shelter over our head, safe place to live and the joy of having our family safe and healthy.”

        Hearing this two minute speech, apart from giving me goose bumps, made me realize suddenly how vain I was being. How self centered was my universe and how I was worrying and blaming God for these little temporary setbacks in life. All of a sudden I started counting my blessings. And that’s when I decided, that this birthday is going to be about being Thankful. I am going to be thankful and appreciate all the wonderful things that I have been blessed with.
       Suddenly it dawned upon me that the most precious thing that I have is a Voice that I have never had to suppress. The voice that I know is heard by people around me, and even if that voice falls to one thinking mind it would be a wonderful thing. I was browsing through my blog and I realized how I have been given an opportunity to express my thoughts and how appreciative my readers have been and how encouraging that makes me feel to keep getting inspired, thinking, and writing.
       Apart from my Voice another great gift that I have been given is the Strength. The strength that I feel knowing that I have such an amazing set of parents, a reassuring sister, my girlies and my friends. The strength and the spirit that keeps me going and never lets me Give up.
      The third greatest gift that I realized that I possessed was my Vision- to see what exists and the foresee the unseen . Literally I experienced a great activity carried out by the Blind People’s Association in my city where they make you experience the ‘Vision in Dark’- which is you experience absence of light in your life for a little amount of time. It makes you aware of the fact that we make use of our vision for about 80% of the time. Using the sense of seeing is so convenient that it’s only when we are deprived of it, is when we realize there are other senses too. I feel so lucky to have all my senses intact.
     I also feel happy to have a cozy and warm home where I feel safe, I get nutritious food that nourishes my palate and my body, loving family, friends I could always count on, have interacted with some amazing people in different walks of life, freedom to be myself, a good set of skills, amazing people who have shaped my career and the list was endless.

         You must be thinking to yourself, ‘Ya so, we all have them, please stop with this thanksgiving speech. You are no Angelina Jolie.’ I know I’m not. But I just want to make a point that it is such a great feeling to be thankful and appreciative of these little things that we take so much for granted in life that it would help you spring back to enthusiasm in days of setbacks and in days of joys, would make you feel even more joyous. Like they say every cloud has a silver lining. The cloud can’t see it, but it’s always there.

Objects in the Mirror

               Hello friends, I know that my posts have been much more infrequent than ever, but I am busy collecting experiences and inspirations from the world. I was away for some time for work purpose, on a trip that I decided to end on a sweeter note of travel and exploration. The wanderer in me and the lust for the taste of local culture brought me to a beautiful ancestral huge home of a local couple, which I shared with a Lithuanian writer who had been staying there for 3 weeks. He was a very quiet, shy and a seemingly serious person. It took me more than a hello to strike a conversation with him. A missed boat ride and the fact that he was a writer was a reason good enough for me to take that extra step to get the thoughts flowing and the words rambling. It is always enriching to have conversations with people and to exchange ideas and thoughts and you never know, what secret treasures are waiting to be unravelled. This conversation with this very intelligent writer was one of those intriguing conversations that I felt I had to share with everyone. For some strange reason, his name seems to be fleeting away from my memory, but not taking any credits of the philosophy away from him, I’m trying my best to quote and reproduce the exact conversation that we had. This is also the part of introduction to his book with the same title, yet to be published, so if you ever come across a book of similar name in future, most definitely read it, I can assure you, it will be fantastic.

The Yellow kitchen

              “Hey, I haven’t seen you around since I have been here.” I said, stirring my cup of tea, and sitting on the quaint little dining table in the yellow kitchen of the house that I was living in, in Pondicherry. He smiled, and said, “Yes, I’m quite busy writing and I also have to finish this presentation for the conference that is coming up in two days”, he said cutting up some fruit for a snack. “Sorry, I forgot to formally introduce myself”, saying so I gave him my brief introduction and so did he, adding that “I would love to chat with you, but I have this thing I need to finish first, why don’t I catch up with you a little later, post dinner maybe?”. “Alright, do you want me to get some dessert for you?” I asked and he gave me a nod before going away to his writing haven.

              A few hours later, I knocked on his door, hoping for an interesting conversation, with a tiny shot glass filled with chocolate mousse in my hand. “I’ll be right there in the kitchen”, he said. After a few exchange of words to break the ice about the usual weather and politics, movies and stuff, “So, a writer!” I exclaimed. “What do you write about?” He replied Indian movies and his psychoanalytical and philosophical take on them. I was amazed at how Indian cinema can have such an impact on people so as to bring them to our country and live here to write a book on it. “Philosophy and Psychoanalytical take! Now that interests me.” I had finally found an interesting spark in the conversation. “Tell me more.” Apparently, it seemed as though, he was waiting for a similar spark, and suddenly with an excitement in his voice like a little child who is about to open his birthday present, he started saying,

             

            “The title of my book is ‘Objects in the mirror’. And you know I got that idea from the rear view mirror in the vehicles in India.” I was intrigued. And he described this scene he remembered from the movie NH-10, where Anushka Sharma (the female protagonist) is sitting in her car while her husband gets out of the car to get directions. She is this modern, independent, urban girl in a rural land. A stark contrast between urban and rural cultures has been very well painted in the scene. Suddenly a rural, bearded, rugged man, in his traditional tattered clothes comes up to her window and is staring at her which startles her and to an extent scares her. Although the man does nothing except stare at this strong, singular, urban woman, who is different than the women he is used to seeing, abusing and beating up in his village, there is a sense of fear of being robbed or harmed by his empty stare so she quickly rolls up the window. Her husband returns with the directions and they drive off. The end of this scene shows the rear view mirror showing the villager seeming to go farther away from them as they drive but the rear view mirror reading ‘Objects in the mirror are closer than they appear’. 

The Other

          By now, I was mesmerised at the detailed and such an in-depth analysis of such a simple scene of less than a minute that apparently was insignificant enough for me to forget, but had inspired an idea to someone to write a book. Talk about small things inspiring huge ones. Then he started describing his psychological and analytical take on that scene. He said, “There is a concept of  the Self and the Other in psychology. The Self is you, the person and the Others can be whoever in the picture. Usually it’s someone around you, someone in the same scene as you are, someone that you can compare yourself or your situation to."
         'Without the Other, the Self cannot exist.'
Then describing the scene, he said, “Being an urban individual for me the Self was the female protagonist in the movie and the rural man was the Other. It was a perfect contrast between the Urban and Rural India. She saw the seemingly normal rural individual, the Other as a threat, as something that would frighten her, which probably may or may not be justified, but it created a strong emotion. At the end of the scene, when the seeming threat is going away from them, it is appearing to get smaller and that relieves her, but the rear view mirror is reading ‘Objects in the mirror are closer than they appear’. Another excellent contrast. In our lives, we always have the Other, who is could be a person or an object. Sometimes even situations can be defined as the Other. In people who may regard as to comparisons or interactions with anyone but themselves as futile, for them the Mirror becomes the Other. Coming to that, you may think that the mirror is just a reflection, technically. But psychologically it is the Other in the mirror. And depending on what you are thinking of the Self or the Other at that particular time, you would see the similar reflection in the mirror. How many times, have you woken up and looked in the mirror and felt beautiful or ugly. Your ‘Self’, doesn’t change, but the Other in the mirror changes according to the psychological state of mind that day. And that is the story of the Objects in the mirror.”

Reflection of the Self, as the Other you desire

               I was awed by his words and ideas that came out like from a seasoned writer’s pen. These things started making so much sense in my head. It just made me realised a very important truth in life. It is you who will decide the state of others in your life and their importance. You can use this psychological tool too much of your advantage. Want to feel amazing, look at self and compare with other. And the best Other to do that, is the mirror. Feeling negative? Look at the Other in the mirror as a positive person. Feeling low? Look at the Other in the mirror as a confident person. Your brain does know that the Other is just a reflection of yourself and thus you can slowly and gradually learn to fool your psyche into instilling so much positivity and confidence, into yourself. Although it might not be as easy as it sounds but I’m sure our mind can be trained to use this philosophy to its best extent. Isn’t this the same as creating a positive vibe for yourself.

So next time you glance at a mirror, don’t just look at a reflection, but try to look at the objects in the mirror.      

...And as the Diary spoke:

             

Opening the box of memories is like opening a box of chocolates,
You just can't stop at one. 

       
              Yesterday, while cleaning my loft, I was going through some of my old stuff, stuff from my childhood. Yes, I am a gatherer. You would be surprised at the amount of ‘junk’ as some people would like to call it that I have right from the time I was in school. The Barbie dolls that I would be gifted on birthdays or would have bargained for in return of straight As in my report card, my favourite denim dungaree, my candy doll, the bookmark some special friend gifted me with an inscription on its behind, the glass crystals that I may have collected from somebody else’s junk, the tiny handbag that I would carry around everywhere that I went with its tattered and cracked exteriors, those Enid Blyton novels that I would eat up in summer vacations, the Amarchitra kathas and the Chacha Choudhary comics, the Champak series that I would wait for each fortnight, the collection of the fairytale books that I would read to fall asleep and dream about my happily ever after, the cut out of the doll from a newspaper that I would call ‘Thumbelina’ after reading a fairy-tale about a girl of the size of a thumb, the pine nut that I carried from my very first camping trip to the Himalayas as a kid, the report cards from standard one to 12, all with A+s and if it was a bad year As, (no I’m not boasting), those notebooks and text-books of my favourite subjects depicting the evolution of my maturity along with the maturity of my handwriting, those science journals with the complicated and beautiful drawings that I marvel at today, my painting and sketching books that reminded me of the creative streak that I had, which has been lost somewhere in the run for excellence in life, the slam books that various friends from various walks of life had written when saying good-byes, the glossy real photograph albums from the time I was born till the time I left college as opposed to the digital images of self obsession that we call selfies these days rotting in the memory stick of my mobile phone, the peacock feather that my grandmother had given me to play with, neatly pressed in my diary, which now with age had developed a beautiful golden sheen on it.

The feather that absorbed the tears of the past

           Did I just say ‘In my Diary’? Yes my beautiful diary. To anyone else it would be a binding of beige coloured papers with scribbling inside, bound with a magenta satin casing with rusty golden-ish edgings on it. But to me it was a window to myself. The diary which had absorbed so many of my tears and fears, the diary that was my most loyal friend, to whom I could open my heart out to without the fear of being mocked or judged, the diary that had a plethora of unexplained emotions like excitement, fear, sadness and tears, the diary that harbored all the stories of the little me,and there it was staring at me, urging me to open it, to look back and soak myself in the nostalgia of my childhood and college days to feel those emotions again, to smile at my stupidities and laugh at my fears. As I ran my fingers through those aging and yellowing pages, I could smell the saltiness of the tears and feel the joy. My cursive handwriting in it (which was a thing of envy those days) bore the mood of the happenings of the day I was writing it. 

I thought to myself, if the diary could speak what would it have told me? What would I like to have told the little Me, now that I am looking back.

As the aging pages of the diary spoke to me... 

             The very first thing that I would have told the little me is 

“You are beautiful”.

And no it has nothing to do with the way you look, but it’s much deeper than that. Your skin will change with time, it may wrinkle, the shape of your body will change with time, but what will not change is that smile. And that is what defines you. Beauty is not just skin deep, it’s so much more than that, so don’t waste your precious time and energy on those beauty creams, or starve yourself for that zero figure, instead build up your personality. Confidence and grace is so much more important aspects of beauty than skin deep beauty. If you are comfortable and confident in your skin, you will be beautiful.

             The second thing that I want to tell the little me is, 

“It is okay to get lost in your way or take the untrodden path sometimes.” 

Well, you’d say, really? Yes, It is okay to get lost if you are determined to find your way back (Literally and metaphorically). Sometimes unexpected turns in life are deliberate so that you come across the most beautiful sights and experiences in life. It gives you the excitement of finding your way; it makes you more capable of taking wiser decisions in future. If everything was perfect you would never learn.

            Yet another thing I’d like to tell the little me is 

“Believe in people and life; and you’d be really surprised at how amazing they both can be”. 

Doubt is like a slow poison. It impairs our capabilities and we tend to hold ourselves back by our illusion of fear. We miss out on wonderful people and experiences in life. Again, I don’t mean being silly and just close your eyes to reality, but put belief and trust before doubt. So what in the process you get your trust is breeched, it will be, but you will most definitely spring back to normal, believe me.

             The last thing that I’d like to tell the little me is 

“Let go, Accept, Love and Enjoy”. 

These, I have learnt from my variety of experiences are the simple things that make life so much simpler. Don’t hold on to grudges, makes your heart and soul heavier, let them go.
Whatever curveballs life throws at you, don’t complain, try to change it, and if you can’t, accept it and most definitely in each of those curveballs, u will see a blessing in disguise.
Enjoy each moment because there are no do-overs in life, so make the most of what you have. Life is simple and don’t complicate it, just have fun.
Learn to Love. Never give up on love. You may have gotten your heart shattered a number of times, it may feel impossible to put back those scattered shards of the broken heart back together, but you will, eventually.

                "....Because love is the closest thing to magic we have on earth".