It’s soothing to be in this space again. Actually I’ve never perceived this as a ‘space’ before. Like how you don’t realize you’ve been missing somebody till you see them again? I suppose like that I’ve never thought much about when I write on my blogs. Sitting here now in the early hours of the morning except for humming of the fridge, distant barking of the neighborhood dogs and an occasional car on the road, all is quiet. There’s taste of instant coffee on my tongue, my eyes crusty with sleep and my fingers up and down on the type pad; reaching every 5 minutes to stifle a yawn.

I’d always imagined writing to be a wistful, wind-blowing hair, white sheer shirt near a bright curtain-flowing window looking out to <insert preferred scene>; a rather romantic sort of affair where one sat pouring one’s heart out in words. But it’s never happened for me. If traveling then I’d usually find myself hunched in a rather uncomfortable corner connected to some AC power point or trying to frantically upload my posts when I find two bars of a Wi-Fi connection somewhere. And whenever I write for shyamni.com, though I’ve tried the fresh-faced early morning breeze vibe but it just doesn’t do.

Somehow it’s this un-showered, sleep smelling, drooled over, semi-comatose space is where I can make some sense and put them down and it sure is good to be back after some time into this familiar, well-oiled routine. Speaking of oils, tonight I am sitting here with my hair soaked in a new $24 coconut oil. Virgin coconut oils are all the rage at the moment and I’ve written enough about my hair woes that you know I’ll try anything!

Though I suppose you should know that there was a time I absolutely, utterly detested anyone who used coconut oil (Mind you this was a time way before Pure Fiji and their Coconut & Honey range existed). Call it snobby, low, supercilious whatever. I was simply repulsed by the smell and by anyone who used it including my grandmother. Yuck. Who uses coconut oil? So but my new bottle of pure virgin oil comes pressed from Taveuni and so far it’s even better than the Indian amala oil (yes I’ve tried that, too).

https://instagram.com/p/8hyCc3AlK-/?taken-by=maharishisharon

Anyway it’s good to be on familiar grounds again tonight. The past few months, I’ve been out and about doing not so familiar things. Unfamiliar probably is an understatement. More like things outside of my little universe of existence. Two wonderful opportunities walked right up to my universe’s door and almost knocked it down! New people, challenging dynamics. It’s been a very different, a more sober; grown up and perspective changing few months.

On this blog and the others after this, it has always been about my stories. The journey; the why, the how, the reason, the circumstance behind it but the past few months have no stories. There are simply choices that I’ve made.

Imagine looking at yourself in the mirror. You know nothing about yourself prior to that moment. What you see is what you are. At that point, you are your choices. Not why you chose to be that, not what made you choose to be that, not how you came to be that – you are just your choice. If you’re criminal, you’re criminal. It has nothing to do with why you became one, you’re simply just one. You chose it.

Imagine looking at yourself in the mirror. You know nothing about yourself prior to that moment. What you see is what you are. At that point, you are your choices. Not why you chose to be that, not what made you choose to be that, not how you came to be that – you are just your choice. If you’re criminal, you’re criminal. It has nothing to do with why you became one, you’re simply just one. You chose it.

Looking back at me from the mirror today is not the Shyamni I was hoping to see. While I can write as many explanations and justifications, who I see looking back is ultimately who I have chosen to be. 

And in a world where stories don’t matter, it is here from where I don’t know. Life, of course is shades of grey…let’s say magenta, since it’s Pinktober. Your values, morals, obligations, responsibilities, dying aunt’s last wish help you make the right choices to be you, right? But then what if the wrong choices are the right ones? And does a wrong-choiced you, make you a happy you? Do the choices you make in life, define who you really are?

After all, who would choose to put coconut oil in their hair anyway? Yucck.