Lessons from childhood (a poem)

Art journal by Purnima

Silence, a seven-letter word was often served to us in our dinner plates. At the dining table, I basically learnt to chew morsels of food and swallow the words. My brother would always spit the latter out and hence, he could never learn how to patient enough.
Silence, a seven-letter word, same as the number of letters in my name and how on most of the days,
I crumble
[Lessons from childhood]

PS: I have been art journalling for a while. So I thought I could share the pieces of my heart with you all.



When I first started out with my blog, it was more of a casual thing for me. I did not take it much seriously and was super inconsistent.

In the initial three months, I barely wrote 4-5 blogs and rarely took any interest in writing more.

Exactly four months after the inception, a magic happened. I don’t know what inspired me but I began writing on a regular basis.

Almost everyday, I posted one or the other thing. Suddenly the idea of writing enthralled me and I couldn’t imagine a day without it.

It always felt a kind of achievement on clicking on that ‘publish’ button. After sometime, praises began to pour in. People also started commenting and sharing my blogs. Honestly, I was overwhelmed.

This month, I completed 200 blog posts and it feels like a milestone. All these months, I have always tried to write something that people could relate to.

Seeing the people writing nice things about me, fills my heart with much, much happiness.

I don’t get ideas and inspiration for writing everyday but I write just because I love it. And also because, I know that my lovely readers might be waiting for a new update.

When I got that notification of congratulating me for my 200th post, I was already seeing myself writing a 300th one or 400th, probably 1000 too.

Lastly, writing gives me immense satisfaction and joy and I thank my readers from the bottom of my heart for taking out a minute from their life to read my blog.

Keep reading! Love you allā¤

Just okay

At first, it was pretty hard. It was way too much difficult for me to deal with your absence in my life.

It was hard, getting used to having my morning cup of tea alone.

It was hard, losing the feel of your hands or fingers running through my hair.

It was hard, getting used to not seeing your clothes in our closet anymore.

It was hard, getting used to not hearing you say, ‘I love you’ ever again.

I have got used to many things and now I feel, just ‘okay’.