A LOT CAN HAPPEN OVER A CUP OF COFFEE

                               A LOT CAN HAPPEN OVER A CUP 🍵 OF COFFEE 💖

It was one of those lazy afternoons when the table tennis court was not available for our routine post-lunch-games. It was too hot to go out for a walk. The inactivity was killing. We loitered in the garden
area of the office premises, inhaling the stray cool breeze that came our way. We were laughing about something that my friend shared when a guy passed us.

‘Hey’ my friend greeted him.

He halted in his tracks ‘Hey, Hi!’ he exclaimed.

‘Long time!’ they both echoed in unison and laughed.

Laughter is contagious and we were already laughing before he passed by, leaving the smile lingering on my face.

I kind of continued to smile or maybe smiled a little more if that was possible in response to the laughter happening around me.

They happened to be old colleagues now working in separate functions and the guy had then moved on to another office in another city. 

They continued to chat, and I had nothing to do but to be a silent observer of their conversation.

They guy kept sending furtive glances my way as if beckoning me to be a part of the conversation.
I am of the reserved shy types thus kept to myself. He kept glancing at me and smiling at me and I kept ignoring him. I was the passive participant of their conversation.

‘It was nice to meet you after such a long time!’ he said after a while.

‘Same here.’ My friend replied shaking his hand.

‘I am sorry, I know it sounds weird, but I have forgotten your name’ he said sheepishly.

My friend laughed and introductions were made once again. He then turned to me and asked.

‘And, what is your name?’

I smiled … guys! They are so predictable!

The moment he left my friend punched me in the arm and said …

‘All his drama was just to get himself introduced to you!’

I wonder why I got punched in my arm? 😍😊

Swarupa Chavan

Instagram: mystic_tripper

Ghost stories

It was one of those days at work where the working hours were consumed with back-to-back meetings and reviews and I had to sit back late to complete the long pending assignments.

I finally decide to call it a day when I notice that the enormous office floor is already deserted. I am tired and ravenous.

My stilettos make an echoing click clack sound as I walk hurriedly on the never-ending aisle and yet have not reached the elevators.

It is already dark outside and the long glass windows cast ghastly shadows on the work stations.   👥


I hear another pair of shoes clicking on the floor just a fraction of a second following me. I stop midway and the sound stops as well.

I turn around abruptly to check if someone was following me. As far as I knew I was the only person on the thirteenth floor of my office building.

I start walking a bit slowly to make sure if the sound I heard was true or a fragment of my imagination.

I hear the sound of the second feet matching my pace again clicking slowly and in perfect sync with my speed. I am certain I saw a pale shadow reflecting on the shiny flooring of the aisle right behind me.

I freak out.

I did not have the nerves to enter the lift alone or to alight thirteen floors with the apparition following me.


What should I do?

👽💀

Swarupa Chavan

Instagram: mystic_tripper

DESIRES ARE UNFAITHFUL

                                           




DESIRES ARE UNFAITHFUL. THEY CHANGE THE MINUTE THEY ARE FULFILLED.

Isn’t that the reality of the day? Man’s quest for fulfilling one’s desire is never ending. We focus all our energies and efforts to fulfill a dream. It becomes the very focal point of our life. The goal becomes larger than life. Every moment is lived revolving around this goal. Every action, every thought, every little step is taken to move closer to this dream. And why not? That keeps us motivated and gives us a sense of purpose. To keep improving us and making ourselves a better version of our self. To make every moment worthy of living.

The real test is when we forget that this goal is not our purpose of life. It is just a means of reaching our ultimate destination. We realize this mistake when we achieve that goal and the happiness that it gives us is short lived. The sense of euphoria is soon replaced with a feeling of emptiness within. We then start our search for our next goal. This vicious cycle continues. Fixating ourselves with these goals and identifying our happiness and our very existence with it is the crux of the mistake.

We forget the power and magnificence of our being.

I am in search for that desire that would never change even after it manifests. It would not lose its magic but, would shine and grow sweeter with every passing moment. That which gives me a sense of stability and peace. Which brings instant joy and enhances my life. That which stays with me now, here and then, there.

That which IS. 💓💖

© Swarupa Chavan
Instagram: mystic_tripper

WHY DO I WRITE?

To be honest this question never crossed my mind, ever. Until the

other day someone asked me casually, ‘Why do you write Swarupa?’

I looked at the person incredulously. As if he had asked a very
ridiculous question. Like asking why does the sun rise? or why is the
night followed by the day … something along those lines. It was a
perfectly normal and authentic question. It was also asked in the most
natural manner, not hinting towards sarcasm or ridicule.

It forced me to ask this question to myself. Why did I write? Really?

I recollect writing in my school and college magazines, articles for
functions and events etc. it came naturally to me. I love reading,
painting, singing, travelling and a lot many other things. And I can
only say that apart from reading and travelling I have not pursued any
other passions at all. Writing I suppose does not fall in this
category. It is something of a higher level of calling, which cannot
be expressed in words.

I am reserved and a loner. The words are my constant companions. I
emote and express through words. I live many lives through the
characters I create. I am a keen observer of human behavior,
incidents, characteristics. I pick up the stories which are said
through the eyes, silently. I read the stories that are carved in the
mansions and monuments of the history. The lanes that echo with
laughter, the rivers which flow with the tears of broken hearts… I
pick those stories. I imagine and weave stories around these clues
that are thrown my way. I become those stories and then the stories
become me. That is when people relate to the character and find some
resemblance in them with me.

Who is the first person you speak to when you wake up in the morning?
And who is the person with whom you are constantly conversing, every
single moment during the day? You, yourself. Correct?

Writing for me is like that, self-expression.

I write to express, I write to emote. I write to connect. I write to
create my world. And then I release that world to the universe. Free
for the seeker to share it. To be a part of it. To live it.



© Swarupa Chavan

Instagram: mystic_tripper