Rumi in me!

 What do I do with writing?

I write.

Just write.

Some days, it's a love letter to myself.💃

Other days, it’s a breakup text to the world.Some days, it’s me being wise and profound.

Other days, I’m just yelling on paper.Joy, anger, frustration, confusion—they all take turns showing up.

Honestly, writing has become my most stable relationship....... after.....😂

But then…

Just as I’m pouring my heart out—DING-DONG!The doorbell rings.

I leap up, mid-epiphany, only to remember… I left the gas on.The tea has boiled over.The sabzi is now blackened art.....and mom's favourite query....have you put salt??

And I’m standing there, holding a pen in one hand and a burnt kadhai in the other, wondering what the universe is trying to tell me.

By the time I return to my sacred writing space, I’ve lost my train of thought, my peace of mind, and potentially, half my kitchen.

And what was once a powerful piece about self-discovery🌀

…now ends with:

“I need to buy a new pressure cooker.”

But that’s the art of writing, isn’t it?

You start off trying to be Rumi…You end up being under paid chef in the kitchen .

Writing, like life, is rarely smooth.There will be detours, distractions, and dal disasters.And maybe that’s okay.

Because even if I mishandle the gas, the sentence, or the moment—

I’ve still handled something important:

Myself.