The Moon Taught Me I’m Lucky

I was feeling sort of small and insignificant just then

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From the Moon and Stars

Dear Dark Night

You don’t give yourself the credit you deserve. Sunshine, for some reason, equates to happiness (they call it “sunniness”) in the world we live in. People crave light. People see themselves in the daylight. It reassures their insecure selves.

How powerful you must be, dark night, for you make me feel beautiful when I cannot see myself, by only whispering into my head what I look like to you. You make me feel like magic.

Dear Dark Night,

You’ve taught me to make sense of the mess I am to create the matchless constellations that fascinate people so. 

Dear Dark Night,

Thank you for teaching me that sometimes it’s okay not to shine. And that never should the sun’s shining make me feel unimportant or irrelevant. I have to come back graceful, brighter, and more divine and know that I’m worth everything when the sun isn’t.

Dear Dark Night, 

Thank you for knowing to summon the clouds for me to hide behind whenever I needed. And for convincing me I must come back each time, because I am needed.

Dear Dark Night,

Thank you for coaxing me out of my retreat every time my flickering threatened to die out. I’m so lucky I can be confident that our love means you would be dull in my absence. Your sky would be less well-lit. I couldn’t ever do that to you.

Dear Dark Night,

You’re always there when I am, and I am ever so grateful for that. Your constant presence in my life comforts when I feel lonely, for you ensure that I’m never really alone.

Dear Dark Night,

Never doubt that you’re beautiful. Exquisite. Truly denightful. Never feel like no one sees you. You are not an absence. You are not a substitute for the sunshine when it needs to rest. You are irreplaceable and capable of things I, and everyone else, can only depend on you for.

Dear Dark Night,

You are, after all, what makes the moon and stars worth looking at.


Your Moon and Stars.



There are ten million people in the city tonight
And one angel.
Touching souls,
Plotting promises of good days to come
Where screams once painted sleepless nights.
“Everything will be okay, honey.”

“I won’t ever recover from this.”
Broken shards of glass
Still shine in the light.
Still can be picked up and
United to reflect the colours of your dearest dreams.
Don’t give up.
You have to win.

“Okay, I want to.
But isn’t zero worth more than a minus thousand?”

Every life is a pile of good things and bad things, he says.
The good things don’t always soften the bad, 
But the bad things don’t spoil the good.
It isn’t a minus thousand.
It’s a hundred, and a minus five, and a seven, and a minus thirty.
Numbers are your friends.
Zero isn’t worth anything.

“I no longer believe that there exist good things.
I can’t think of any; there must not
be any.”

If you stare at the sky long enough, he teaches,
You begin to see the stars.

“I see them now,” I realize, in awe.
He smiles at me until my smile is no longer under my own control.
The angel that lit up my life.


One Year 

Some time in October last year, the Maitreyi I was decided to start writing a blog (she was acing her language classes in school and was getting to be a little cocky and decided that her writing should be read by more than just her English and French teachers). She wanted everything to be perfect. On narrowing her site options down to WordPress and Blogger, she quickly realized WordPress was far easier to use (I say quickly, but really, the idiot spent a week trying to adjust header images and font sizes till she finally managed to achieve them on WordPress; she was hopeless with gadgets). She was proud of her blog name (caprice: the tendency to change, by the way) and her chosen colours were pleasant enough.

About two weeks later and exactly one year ago, she published her first post.

A tiny celebration now, please (brace yourselves for some numbers), because I made it to 17 posts, over a 100 followers in all, nearly 3000 page views from about 25 different countries, 1500 visitors, 180 likes, 210 comments and several new blogger friends in a year (you may start clapping now). I owe people who bothered commenting on my posts for encouraging me to write in the beginning enough that I was almost always itching to publish another post (and hence, the 40 drafts that still wait). I’m also going to take this opportunity to apologize to the three bloggers who’ve nominated me for my first few challenges ever. I’m incredibly sorry I’m months late and I feel horrible about it and I promise I’ll finish them when I get the time.

Now, I remember there was this day in January earlier this year on which I got super excited about my birthday (which is on November 3, yes). For some reason, I didn’t stop myself from childishly imagining how good a day it would be owing to the fact that I have the best friends in the world and they’d made my 15th a Patronus Memory. I also realized how different I’d probably be. I would’ve gone through my grade 10 board exams (which, laughably, were the biggest, most major set of problems I then thought I’d face in my life; god, we made such a huge deal out of those cute little exams), an entire semester of 11th grade, half a year without some friends I’d made, half a year under a new piano teacher, moving out of the house I’d lived in for the last 9 years and just so many hours and days and people and experiences. In July, after writing my first UT, I decided that my First Semester Examination of Grade 11 would be the largest obstacle I’d ever have to overcome, and that by the end of those two weeks, I would’ve changed as a person (I know that sounds very dramatic, but you’ll only find it annoyingly so if you haven’t written yours yet). And I was right. My eye power has increased, ugh. 

A month or so ago, I came across evidence that proved that Maitreyi from January thought right. You know those personality quizzes people take for fun (when they should really be studying for that really important math test the next day)? A close friend of mine had me take one last year and my results were, according to me, pretty accurate. Extraverted, observant, heart over head, among others. When another friend linked me the same quiz a year later, I didn’t expect my personality to have become all that different, so as the results page loaded, I was prepared only to see those familiar words again. On seeing a diminished Extraverted and expanded Intuitive bar, however, I was convinced that the software had messed up, somehow. How could it be that off?! When I read about that particular personality type, though, I soon found myself nodding vigorously at the screen before me. I’d literally switched extremes, because I remember relating to the type I got a year ago almost as much as I did this one. 

Having lived only nearly 16 years, this change over a single year seemed major. I’d count going from 2015-Maitreyi to 2016-Maitreyi to be pretty significant right now. When I’m 60, though, I will have experienced so much that a silly difference in quiz results over a year as a teenager would be a memory long -forgotten, for there will be others of decidedly greater importance, like moving to a new country, getting married and working a job. Me pre-marriage and other things would have a life quite different from me post them. I would’ve undergone so many changes in personality, albeit minor ones, over the years that I will refer to younger Maitreyis from different decades ago, rather than years in my stories. 

The quiz caused me to really give how we change as people a thought. It threw me off at first, but now I’m glad I realized it early enough that I can almost watch myself as I grow. I’m making that possible through posts on my blog that record and recognize these changes- ones that have taken place, ones that I anticipate, and ones that may never happen at all.