Foul soul

Why does no one talk about regret being a good thing? Mostly because it’s the continuation of this feeling from which many of us run away. From our very own faults. I want to be normal for once when I talk about how I’m not a superhuman to this feeling.

I regret a lot from my past.

There’s hardly any bad moment from the past that I wish I had nothing to do with. Else, it’s not a bad moment at all, right? This is not the regular regret particularly as I just wish I was not a ‘part’ of such happenings in life. If the reason for such bad moments seemingly points out to me – then I deplore myself.

It’s a good thing, personally to confront my bad behaviour like that.

Not only confront, but because I am kind to myself I’ve observed to always forgive the cues to get better. That’s only way I know about dealing with remorse itself. Be it the choices, a relationship or the decisions of life – it’s all connected to me remaining independent.

The same independence in choosing to dwell on these subjects could be good, because I mostly get tired and they are solved forever pretty quicker than most around me. It’s an observation I have been seeing frequently, but not so definitively.

Photo by Aidan Roof

Forever having to regret about the past is one point of view and confronting this remorse right at it’s deepest foul is another. I love the latter because honestly I am incapable of lodging myself into the loop of rue. Someone says “I don’t regret anything from my life” and I am bound to believe they’ve dealt with the remorse. It means for me to regret when I know, and I know I should go past it only without denial.

Hence, I’m never guilty of what I do but only a convict in their face already.


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Pointless Bread

Yes, that’s the name. I didn’t want to have a meaning in the new title for this blog. So, I guess this one’s just perfect. Or not, so never mind and that’s the whole point of it. No pun intended – only if you had to think otherwise.

From now on, we are the Pointless Bread family. We should have a name to the members of this group, given the fact that the numbers are still small and opinions can be mindfully perceived. I hope. If you are reading this, you are among the small bracket to whom the articles reach – be it a follower or a new reader. Feel free at home, you (a guess) human.

What does ‘Pointless Bread’ mean? You tell me.

I don’t really have a clear picture as to why this name other than my intuition. It sounds right and even confirms my laziness in framing a proper title to this blog. It almost justifies the ever-changing theme of the website. Maybe that’s our theme itself.

Gives me joy to be diverse enough on a personal basis.

Now, this move (of changing the title) comes as a part of getting along with my readers and keeping this place for a fun time on the internet. This move is also a part of the blog’s journey towards making it officially a place for personal growth and keeping the community hooked to the process of writing/reading. It’s not just confined to making money but even about taking footsteps which can help me get better at this skill. I’ll always be a novice to the internet, as a reminder.

I have too much going on in the ‘document of plans’ for the blog. Maybe have direct collaboration, open donation pipelines in return for artwork, have more and more concepts covered. It’s slowly falling into place and you’ll know.


Comment your thoughts, be it anything – your favourite kind of pizza or even about the last time you cried. Take the space and let’s get to know each other (only if you’d like to, affirmative) in order for this blog to be a literal space for art and stories 😀

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The Highway Rendezvous

Me and Abhijeet were on the way to this highway joint to meet another friend from a nearby city. It’s called 7 Beans and this cafe is not that far from anywhere. A twenty kilometre ride on the national-highway (also known as the longest road in India) which falls between Pune and Bengaluru with green fields to give your eyes that regular treat. Now, this being the case of the road’s situation, it amounts to a lot of traffic at intersections which are placed near cities. To shift your routes majorly.

At one such intersection, on taking a left-turn the bike was put to it’s ultimate test for that week. Abbya took a bend unlike the regular one. Because, this time the bike actually touched the road which seizes for the bend to be one and forwards it to an accident. We literally slid from this side of the intersection to the pavement on the other side.

It was in slow-motion that I saw everything happening still sitting in the position we were riding. There’s nothing we could do but sit and watch the scene ourselves.

Now, what I found funny was we were watching the whole accident happening while we were a part of it. A moment of bad luck and another vehicle taking a turn, we would have faced some serious damage like death etc. And the crucial part is we would know before anything happened, but can’t do nothing. We were laughingly having the (luckily) safest accident ever. We slid and slid until the pavement ended the bike’s visible inertia.

That’s when we burst into laughter unlike pussies.

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Is writing a powerful deed?

I can’t answer that. Because, if I do, I’ll sound like the million other writers who stress-fully make sure the one reading knows how powerful their words are. These words (after repeated confrontation) prove nothing but to be a meagre representation of my moment while writing them. With the disguise of memory dancing at the back of mind.

Your regular talk on a screen by someone else. That’s it.

Now, when I write these words about the powerful pleasantry in writing – I am partially a failure to honesty. The next moment I’ll publish this kindness. And, then another moment I won’t even know how good of a writer I am.

Even worse, I’ll just call myself a good writer.

When I do this, I am forgetting my articles on labelling someone. Someone who’s me is getting labelled as a hypocrite too when I call myself a good writer. Forgive me, reader, but these words are not meant to give you or me the powers of any kind.

Instead, they are meant to remain just as they are. If you accept them just as they are, there’s nothing more vivid to me than this imagination.