On becoming

Metamorphosis

If preparing my meals using the pressure cooker has taught me one thing, it is that food is brilliantly made with the right amount of pressure.

While the pressure exerted is important, what is more important is the pressure that is released every now and then. I have marked a different number of whistles for different pulses that I make.

Rajma takes almost 10, Cholle 8, Chane 6, Arhar Dal 4, and Moong Dal 2.

Last week, it was me instead of all these pulses, and while some kind of creative energy was running my windmill over the past few weeks, last week saw me generating an immense amount of creative energy but not knowing what to do with it. It was almost as if I had the power to fly but couldn’t see anything outside because of fog.

The mental energy stored up in my brain longed to come out, to express itself, but I somehow felt out of ideas, out of avenues to express it. It was quite intense, honestly.

I am at the stage of Becoming these days. I left the nest long ago; I haven’t reached the skies yet, but I am flying still. Rather disciplined, rather in motion, quite swift, quite focused.

When I say Becoming, I say it at the expense of making it sound spiritual or religious but trust me, it is nothing like that. I don’t feel anything otherworldly; this is just an account of lived reality. It’s nice—I accept it, I allow it, I welcome it. To be honest, I look forward to it.

But, I do not welcome docility, no, not at this stage of my life.

Last week, I felt the energy climbing to the top of my head. For once, I felt as if the cerebral fluid had leaked within my brain; it felt so heavy. I was full of ideas, aspirations, and things I wanted to write about. I have this habit of sleeping only after writing down the tasks for the next day in my small notebook diary. It just makes me feel nice to have everything put down on paper. As a result, I don’t miss out on anything, and the next day, I look forward to crossing each task off, not very generously, with my pen. It also makes me feel bigger than the tasks in my mind; I feel in control, in power.

This past week, the notebook looked a bit condescending to me, almost as if it was limiting me. If I wasn’t living on rent, I would have coloured the walls with the thoughts going on in my brain.

Luckily, I had my beloved whiteboard hanging just adjacent to my table. It looked small, too, but out of options, I decided to colour it black and blue with me ideas, my plans for the future and a painted imagery of what I could become. I thought it would allow me some peace and silence, but it only made things worse.

Back in my kitchen, when I was new to cooking, once I waited and waited, but the pressure wasn’t being released from the cooker. So, in a naive attempt to “check-in” with the cooker, I took a little spoon and gently touched the hat of the pressure cooker - the regulator. To my surprise, the cooker howled at me instantly and let out some steam.

The same happened with me and the whiteboard. When I started to let off my steam, it seemed like the entirety of me wanted to come out on the board. I filled in the board with half my ideas and twice my energy, then retired it and went for a walk.

My pen constantly between my index and middle finger and occasionally being used as a makeshift cigarette, I took many rounds on my terrace. Some silence did come to me. An answer was beginning to emerge, but I was unsure whether to acknowledge it.

It sounded a lot like “acceptance,” but I don’t feel I am at the stage to just accept things. I am highly in for action, even at the cost of causing a little harm, making me feel some sweet pain. After all, it’s all fodder for my writing. Like this newsletter, turning agony into something tangible.

Eventually, it did cool off. A talk with a dear friend, a nice walk, clicking photographs of sunshine illuminating my room, a delicious home-cooked meal of pasta, a nice motorcycle ride, reading a brilliant book, listening to some good people on YouTube, and just having my coffee at the exact temperature I like it.

It helped, slowing down. I am not weary after the episode. I just feel focused. I have gotten a glimpse of it—all that is within. I just want to open the tap enough for it to come out synchronically. It’s beautiful inside. I can’t wait to open it up to the world, to me, to you. I hope you come to see it.

Finally, I am becoming.

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A note to subscribers: First of all, thank you from the bottom of my heart. I’ve been incredibly fortunate to build a loving and supportive community over the years—especially this past one. I often hear friends and others casually mention my newsletter in conversation, and it honestly makes my heart stop for a moment. This level of acknowledgement is unlike anything else in the world. Knowing you take the time to read this makes it all worthwhile.

This isn’t just a hobby or a passion project for me; it’s my life. Writing, photography, and building myself as a creative professional—all my apples are in one basket.

I love this life, and it’s the most meaningful and impactful thing I’ve done to date. Your readership fuels me to keep writing and pushes me to want to write endlessly every day.

That said, I’d love to hear from you now and then. There’s no obligation, but even a single word or brief note would remind me there’s a real human on the other side of the screen. It’s a warm reminder that I’m being seen. I’m always open to feedback, so if you have thoughts, please don’t hesitate to share. And if you have time, feel free to engage with the writing prompt.

Apologies for asking for this labour, but I believe in the good it can create—in connection, creativity, and warmth. One day, I hope to see us all gathered in a park on a Sunday morning, sitting in a circle, writing and reading together. Coffee’s on me!
That’s my dream.

Thank you, lots of love.

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I invite you to reflect and write on the following prompt:

In case you wish to write about something different, please go ahead.
The invitation is to write and enjoy the process.

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As a feature of all my newsletters, I share one song, one book, one plant-based meal, one film/video that inspired me, and some photographic updates from my life.

• Song: Today, I’d like to recommend an artist to you—Mir Kashif Iqbal, a former band member of Parvaaz and now an independent musician. His music is enchanting, reminiscent of Rumi’s poetry and distant lands I’ve never visited. His voice has a mysticism, a pure magic that resonates. Listen to him sometime when you want to sit with yourself, play some beautiful music, and just be.
  I promise he won’t disappoint.

  

• Book/Newsletter: I’m currently reading What I Talk About When I Talk About Running by Haruki Murakami. This is my first Murakami book, and I was curious about why a renowned writer would delve into the subject of running. But that’s the beauty of writers—they can craft stories from any part of their lives. It’s a fascinating read, almost like his personal diary of his journey as a runner.

• Meal: A few days back, I treated myself to a meal of pasta at Pahadee in Bir.

  

• Film/Video: I’ve enrolled in a documentary filmmaking workshop at Deer Park, led by Hossein Martin Fazeli, an Iranian filmmaker. Yesterday was Day 1, and we watched Blackfish, a documentary on the lives of orcas in captivity at SeaWorld. It was a difficult watch, raising many questions about how humans exploit animals in different ways for their own benefit.

  

• Photograph:

  

  

  Thank you for reading my newsletter! I hope you enjoyed reading it. If you liked my work, please consider subscribing. I write weekly on topics ranging from photography and nostalgia to loneliness and living as an artist. If you have any feedback, I would love to hear from you—feel free to email or comment! Wishing you a wonderful week ahead, and I look forward to seeing you next week!