Thoughts to Words

"You were such close friends. Then what happened?" Then over time and due to long-distance, we fell out of friendship. None of these justifications has a role to play in this history. Long-distance and time had nothing to do with us parting ways. We ended the friendship. Why? Because we didn't feel connected anymore, that's just it. When the heart has decided to be absent, the last verse writes itself.   "Doesn't it hurt to lose such a friendship which meant so much in your life?" It hurts. However, it would hurt more if we continued to be friends because all that would remain is a tag. "Close friends"- we would try too hard to meet the expected standards of this label and fix things. Then we would secretly wish one of us abandoned this "fixing mode". To dodge going on a guilt trip, we'd hope the other person takes the initiative to quit first. We were close friends because we wanted to be. It is the reason why we gave our friends

* Immediately delete questions like “May I know what are your qualifications?” or “Where did you get this so-called psychological fact from?” asked by mental health professionals in the comments section of your posts.  * Post some social media stories related to how you are just trying to “help” and your “opinions” are on a mission to save the world.  * In a country like India which has its population in crores, buy some followers for your page. Some means thousands and lakhs.  * If you are scared that mental health professionals will keep questioning your credibility then tell your loyal followers that you are not a therapist/psychologist/psychiatrist but you will continue to take PAID private calls and deep listening sessions because you are giving the world your 'precious time'. (Shhh, no one knows this is how your business grows.)  * The followers/pseudo lawyers you have will fight for you in the comments section of all your social media pages and also spend all their energ

In the leash on permanence, there is fear.  Fear of loss,  fear of missing out,  fear of attachments,  fear of suffering, fear of losing control. In impermanence, there is acceptance. Acceptance of grief,  acceptance of here and now, acceptance of connections, acceptance of pain and vulnerability, and unleashing the freedom to let go. Zen isn't outside, on the highest mountain peak, or the sun-kissed beach,  it's within the universe. The universe that you are. ©songbriti

1. Act like you are qualified in psychology and market your unverified content in the name of "psychological facts".   2. Make it look like people don't need to go to therapists/counsellors/psychologists/psychiatrists because your pep talks are enough to heal mental health illnesses. 3. Use social media to grow your unethical business. After all, if it's a reel then who really cares whether it's real or not. Go live on different social media platforms, throw spoilt lemons at your followers, they will hopefully make lemonade and drink it too because you are an "influencer" and they love your blue tick. 4. Organize deep listening sessions without any professional training in mental health. 5. Never question your conscience. Keep minting money at the cost of someone's life. ©songbriti

Therapy encourages you to pull out your insecurities from the wardrobe of your mind. The fears hanging high, the ignored inner child folded between files of trauma, the maladaptive behaviours falling out at 4 a.m. when you try searching for your nightdress.  The space is overstuffed but we won't rush for a picture-perfect moment. Healing is not about perfection anyway. We'll look at the shelves (one by one), understand what the locker has been concealing, plan what needs the laundry service and what we can rearrange.  It could take months to dry clean the shirts of unpleasant feelings, you may not even want to touch it when you first look at it and it's okay. Whenever you are tired, we'll pause and take a mindful breath. Only after you replenish your energy, will we get back to the blue shirt you were attempting to iron. You'll see yourself giving away some clothes that you no longer wear. Sometimes it may be particularly difficult to let go of a few coats and ties

I like silence, but not the one before the storm. I like silence, but not the one oppressing opinions. I like silence, but not the one tolerating violence behind closed doors.  I like silence, but not the one giving a parachute to the ego. I like silence, but not the one dividing nations. I like silence, but not the one used as a passive-aggressive tool to punish someone, I like silence, but not the one widening the rift between hearts. I like silence, but not the one forcing a person to stay in the closet. I like silence, but not the one dragging a life to death by suicide. ©songbriti

Politics is power, power of the votes, votes by the people, people for the nation.  Nation is a child, child of the idea, idea by the freedom fighters, fighters for the motherland. Motherland is the pulse, pulse of the democracy, democracy to empower, empower the deserving. ©songbriti

I have known you, but I have not known you at all. We are kites wandering in our own dialects, like limes and lemons. When we're on a tree together, coincidentally, because that's how we meet/met, our eyes talk in monosyllables and awkward nods.    Spring is in the house and it's adequately warm, yet somehow, there are extensions of snow dew  on my palms and yours too. We perform karaoke with tulips,  'The everlasting mixed...' The birds would be happy staying longer. What about our hearts? Can companionship keep them stronger? The sun is in a rush,  to go for the family dinner. Just then, something shakes the tree, and we fall on the ground. Distance doesn't have an opinion on how far or close we are, we do. Our cords are intertwined, but we have parallel skies. I have known you, but I have not known you at all.   ©songbriti

When relationships are bombed, randomly,  a rendition absent in its monologue, smoke stinging you, blood rushing to the head, waterworks gushing down your cheeks, the lid on your mouth is tight and quiet is the contemporary loud. Do you miss finding out reasons? Had you been given space, you still wouldn't talk.  Why would you? Wouldn't you preferably  curl up in a chair larger than life, analyse some old photographs, assent to assumptions? Murmur, "I knew it.", with conviction. Emulate the proud sun crushing itself, leaving yourself in disarray, pulling the walls of the room towards you,  colluding with them  to close in on you  till the delight of the pink sky  misplaces its charm in a closet with no outlets. A goldfinch without a visa  is hitting the windowpane on Christmas Eve,  moving its robust beak, chattering emphatically in a solitary state. 'Tis bitingly cold outside, the glacier inside four walls brings no outsiders into its world. The sun hasn't al

The soup.  I invited myself to your house because you’d share some with me. I knew it. A sense of the gut, it has seldom been erroneous. A bowl of esoteric wisdom, as empowering as the mountains  beneath the concealed ocean  is on the table. My palate, keen to dictate my movements. The soup tasted differently similar, it was healthier. I got irked. You added an antidote to it. Why was there an antidote in it?  I wanted to extract it out of the soup, I couldn’t. 'Should I drop the bowl?' I hadn't dropped in, to drop out. I drank the soup, all of it. Had I disliked the taste of it? My palate could not finalize a judgement. We had talked about antidotes, you tutored me  and I can make some on my own. I even give it to people in need. I just didn’t want it for myself. Had you mixed a placebo instead, I would not have adored you like I do. The genuineness in your recipe  served me the best. If I settled for anything lesser, my gut would mock me. Somewhere in this universe, a lea