Ratika Deshpande

From: Ratika Deshpande
To: Jarrod Blundy
Subject: What does the sky look like where you are?
Date: April 2, 2024

Hey Jarrod, I hope you’re well! It’s the second day of April; my family and I will be moving out of the city in less than a month. We’re recording very high temperatures–a normal occurrence now, unfortunately–but lately it’s been pleasantly windy. The other day I woke up at 4:22 am and when I stepped out into the balcony a cold wind blew past me, as if it were October. Even during the day, a strong breeze dances through the house, in through the balcony, out through the front door.

How’s the weather there? I remember seeing this post on Tumblr last year where the blogger argued that discussing the weather isn’t small talk, and I agree–there’s such beauty to be found in it (although it’s not so easy now that the effects of the climate crisis are catching up with everyone). Especially now that the days are longer and the evening sky isn’t obscured by the fog anymore, we’re rewarded with a beautiful sunset almost daily. Every day is a surprise. I’m a big fan of taking a break around 6 pm and walking out into the balcony to see what the sky is up to.

Weather is one thing you can turn to when everything else is bleak in life, I’ve found. I’ve had some bad days recently, and none of the usual tools–listening to music, writing to vent, distracting myself on YouTube–really worked for me. Evenings have become something to look forward to. I used to take my phone with me up to the terrace, to take pictures of the colorful sky. This year, I haven’t done so. And I’ve found it to be very freeing, to just sit there and enjoy the view. The absence of the weight of the phone in my hand is amazing; I don’t ever miss it, and it was so easy to forget that I had a tool that would let me capture the sky in some way.

It’s ironic, isn’t it, to want to capture something like the sky–to contain what cannot be contained?

I could talk about the sky all day, honestly. It is so common a thing, yet every time I write about it I find there’s something new to say. And right now, given what’s going on in my life, it’s all I find myself capable of writing about.

What does the sky look like where you are? Pictures are easy to share, but I’ve found great joy in using just words, because they don’t limit me to just the sight, the way a camera does. I can also note down the shouts of the children playing down in the street, the call of the eagle swooping overhead, ideas for essays running through my head, questions about how clouds form and what our earliest ancestors felt when they saw the setting sun, not knowing the science of what was going on, among other little details.

Can I perhaps politely challenge you to try and make time to enjoy a sunset today, and tell me about it only in words?

Whatever you choose, I hope you find some [peace] in what are, the world over, not so inspiring times.

With best wishes, Ratika

From: Jarrod Blundy
To: Ratika Deshpande
Subject: RE: What does the sky look like where you are?
Date: April 5, 2024

Hey Ratika!

Today is April 5th, and I’ve been thinking about your message for the past three days. I hope you’re well and that you’ve had some better days come your way.

I’m so glad that you brought up the weather. It’s what we all have in common, so it’s only natural that weather is so often the conversational icebreaker. Good or bad, there’s very little we can do to control the weather. We just have to — heh — weather it.

For someone whose professional life is ruled by weather patterns, you might be surprised by how little I look at the forecast. Sure, I’ll keep an eye out for major disruptions like storms or heavy snow, out-of-the-ordinary highs and lows. But do I know what the temperature is going to be the day I go out for a hike or when exactly the highest chance of rain is? Usually not. I need to be prepared for inclement weather either way, so it doesn’t ultimately matter what the meteorologist expects will happen — just what actually does and we never know for sure until it really happens.

Your description of your evening escapes to the balcony had me wishing I could experience it alongside you. I love a good balcony; will your next home have one? That same dancing breeze, unsure of which month it is, has been making an appearance here too. Though it brought 60-degree weather to us just weeks ago, the last few days it carried thick, wet flakes of snow and temperatures back down to the 20s.

I’m writing this email from the passenger seat of my car, plunked inconspicuously under a conference center’s small parking shelter in the middle of nowhere, just before I’ll curl up in my sleeping bag for the night. The prices for staying in their cabins for this conference were exorbitant, and I like the comfort and…coziness?…of sleeping in my car. I often daydream about “van life”, hitting the road and living a nomadic life of self-sufficiency — oh, the romanticism of it! Maybe someday. But then again, uprooting to a new community is challenging. Are you looking forward to a fresh start outside of the city? Dreading it? Somewhere in-between?

It’s ironic, isn’t it, to want to capture something like the sky–to contain what cannot be contained?

That’s in our nature as humans, I think. We cannot grasp the concept of infinity, so we try to shrink it down to something that can be grasped. We count and map the stars. We categorize every weather pattern. We name every color of the sunset. I remember being a young child, maybe four or five years old, when my dad went skydiving. My mom, sisters, and I went to watch him take off and then sail through the sky back to earth. Before he took off, I wouldn’t let my dad leave without promising me that he’d capture a bit of cloud in a jar for me on his way down. I can still feel wisps of that disappointment that only a young child can conjure when they don’t get something they think they’re owed. (I didn’t comprehend at the time that I should’ve been thanking my lucky stars that he simply returned to the ground safely, jar of cloud or not.)

In honor of your challenge, the other night when I went for a run along the wooded road by our house, I took my earbuds out of my ears and simply observed and experienced the world as I moved through it. The sky was roofed by thick, yet innocuous, gray clouds that did not betray the oncoming storm they hid. The breeze whistled in my ears, helpfully masking road sounds and keeping me cool as I plodded uphill, eyes on the sky. I knew the evening light would fade steadily, evenly, and without the benefit of a painter’s full palette for its sunset. But those days are fast-approaching when I can sit atop the climbing crag at Baker Mountain, bathed in sunlight, and watch it transition from golden to crimson to palest pink to twilight. Though I love all the seasons, there’s no denying that by the end of the last, I long for the next.

Without segue, a new topic: routines. I love hearing about how people spend their day, so I’m curious: What is your typical morning routine, and how does it differ from your idealized one? If possible, my challenge to you: Make one morning follow that ideal plan. Is it as good as you imagined? What was unexpected about it?

Take care,

Jarrod

From: Ratika Deshpande
To: Jarrod Blundy
Subject: Re: What does the sky look like where you are?
Date: April 13, 2024

Hey Jarrod, I just stepped out into the balcony to check out the weather before sitting down to write this reply. It’s unexpectedly dark outside for 2:46 pm on an April Saturday. There’s no sun, only heavy grayness over to the west. There’s wind, although we also have the fans turned on inside the house. The sky is a color that refuses to be named; it is at once peach and grey and beige and white. I can’t think of anything to compare it to. In On Writing, Stephen King says that while people can go, “It was so beautiful I couldn’t describe it!” a writer should be able to give that description. I can’t, however, and that makes me happy, because it means I’m truly paying attention to a thing without simultaneously taking notes in my head. It means that I’m looking at something that feels beyond words. And every such occasion is a chance to truly live. I wish for everyone to have such experiences.

You mentioned that you don’t look at the forecast often. It reminded me of the winter that just went by–it started late, but when it did arrive it was severe. We had lots of soups, kept all doors and windows shut to keep out the chill, and huddled in the same room all day, running the hot-air blower as we knit and wrote and studied. Every few hours, I’d open the door to the balcony (yes, my new home will have one, and we’d be one flight of stairs away from a large terrace!), or step outside for some errand, get hit by the chill, then check the weather and announce it to everyone in the house. I’d usually add various exclamations in Marathi, as if my mother and sister couldn’t comprehend how cold 6 degrees Celsius actually is. My mother sometimes found it pointless, jokingly asking me if I’d somehow suddenly start feeling extra cold just because the forecast said so, and I have to admit that there was some truth in that. We must do what the weather demands! And I love winter, so the colder it is, the happier I am.

A night spent writing in a car sounds quite exciting; I should try writing in places I’ve never done so before. What might I come up with just because of a change of place? That question has been on my mind for the last several weeks as we pack up our lives here. We’re still two weeks away from the move, so it feels like being stuck in the middle–things are ending here but they’re yet to begin there. I’ve visited the city before but only for a few days at a time, and I’m looking forward to exploring it with my sister and new friends.

Mostly, though, I’m excited that we finally have a place of our own, a place to decorate and paint as we like, a place to fill with the smell of chai and the laughter of silly jokes and collective snores from afternoon naps.

Your story about getting a piece of cloud in a jar made my day; I couldn’t help but imagine it as an illustrated children’s book. Oh the things I’d get made if I were rich! It also reminded me of a sweet little story I read recently, “The Ramparts of Night” by Iori Kusano. I hope you like it too!

I’m glad you were able to enjoy a nice evening while out on your run. Looking at the sky is a great pleasure, and I envy your chance to be able to do so from beautiful vantages. You get to experience awe in more than one form!

(The clouds just roared, a sound that excites me to no end.)

You asked me about my routine; unfortunately, April has no intentions of allowing me anything of the sort. The month didn’t start on a good note, and although I’m better now, there’s work that needs to be done now that I’m done sulking and crying. When that’s done, there are friends to meet before leaving and things to pack. I have the opposite of a routine right now.

I don’t have an ideal routine, truly. The reason will take up many pages and is something I still haven’t articulated to myself completely. There was a long phase until recently when I felt that after years of following routines, I liked not having one at all. But too much freedom isn’t really helpful either, so I’m looking forward to July, when I’ll start my postgraduate studies. Regular classes will force me into a rhythm, and I think I’d do better that way.

Right now, the only thing I’ve been requiring myself is to wake up at 6 am, so that I can stand outside in the balcony with a cup of chai and just look at the world: there are a few people down on the road, returning from their morning walks, getting ready to go to school. Shops shutter open, the birds start calling, cycles pass, ringing their bells. I can’t see the sun, only its gauzy light falling on the white walls of the building across the street. Beyond it, there’s the shikhar (spire) mast of the temple, its orange-red flag waving in the morning breeze. There’s sound, but not noise. People may be late for the day but the world looks as if its moving slowly, taking its time. These fresh, languid hours are one of the few things I love about summer, and I’m glad that I’ve gotten my sleep back on track so that I can wake up on time to truly enjoy them.

What about your routine, both current and ideal? And while we’re at it, what would it look like, if anything were possible, and you weren’t limited by time, space, or money?

With best wishes, Ratika

From: Jarrod Blundy
To: Ratika Deshpande
Subject: Re: What does the sky look like where you are?
Date: April 18, 2024

Hey Ratika,

Peering out my second-floor window, the sky is a heavy true black. Last night, the bright silver half-moon graced me with its presence, inviting itself through my bedroom window to keep me company as I dozed off. This evening, it seems to have taken the night off.

On Writing has been on my to-read list for quite a while. If its contents have anything to do with how eloquently you write, I think I’m going to have to move it up towards the top! What a beautifully descriptive and evocative letter. 🙂

You and I are birds of a feather regarding the weather. I, too, would typically prefer it colder to warmer, and a warm winter is just a disappointment. Especially now that I’m pursuing more outdoor winter sports, the more snow and ice, the better! I saw a quote today in an advertisement for a rain jacket that has stuck with me: “Trust your coat, not the forecast.” A good reminder that the weather can always change, so be prepared. Maybe your mom would nod along to that advice.

I expect that you’ll find all sorts of new things to write about come moving day and beyond! A change of scenery, and routine, and the exploration of new things always get my creative juices flowing. I hope you’ll find both peace and spontaneity in your move. And a cozy reading and writing nook.

Thank you for recommending The Ramparts of Night, I loved it! This bit was perhaps my favorite:

As soon as Ayane turned away, Masae clambered to her feet and made another grab for her own sleep, stretching out both arms like she wanted to give it a hug. She’d drag it all the way back to the futon with her; it wouldn’t be the first time she’d wrestled sleep into submission. It was a feeble thing, like a cotton puff stretched too thin, but it was the best she had at this point.

“Macchan, here you go,” Ayane said, returning, and walked face-first into Masae’s sleep.

As a night owl, I relate quite closely with Masae, and I, too, am paired with an easy, heavy sleeper. My wife can fall asleep anytime she wants, and often when she doesn’t! My mind races and I always feel like I’m running out of time, so sleep gets neglected. But when it’s within my grasp only to be obliterated by this sharp sound or that bursting idea, well, it’s disappointing. Does sleep typically come easily to you?

(I never think of clouds being capable of a roar. I’ve always considered sky sounds to be reaching me through and despite the clouds, not emanating from them. But now I am curious.)

Although it may not be ideal, your 6am easing into the day sounds lovely. Getting a sneak peek at the world before it’s realized you’re there to observe. It’s not often that I’m awake early enough to catch the day breaking, but when I am there’s nothing quite like sitting quietly, fulfilling the role of witness.

My current routine is haphazard and rushed. I set my alarm for the last possible moment I need to awaken and still have time to shower, dress, feed and let out the pets, pack a hasty lunch, and microwave an on-the-go breakfast sandwich. I don’t love it — my ideal routine would probably start earlier, with time for exercise and reading, but would require a drastic change in my well-established habits.

But, one small step after another will eventually get you anywhere you want to go. Which, I suppose, includes going to bed at a decent time. And although I’ve missed “decent” tonight, I think I can still make “acceptable”.

I hope your sleep greets you warmly and easily as an old friend tonight.

Jarrod

P.S. I wonder if you’d talk more about your efforts to simplify and consolidate your online life, cutting out the inessentials? That budding conversation from we first met has been waiting in the wings of my mind. How did you decide what to discard and what to keep?

From: Ratika Deshpande
To: Jarrod Blundy
Subject: Re: What does the sky look like where you are?
Date: April 23, 2024

Hey Jarrod,
How beautiful to have a window that offers such a view! Ruskin Bond, one of my all-time favorite authors, has a lot to say about windows. My copy of his Notes from a Small Room has three essays on windows. Here’s an excerpt (from an essay that’s not about windows):

“I have lived with these two windows for twenty-five years, and I haven’t tired of them. The view hasn’t changed, but the cloud patterns are never the same, the bird-song varies, so does the blue dome of the sky, which at night is like a tent of deep purple spangled all over. Some nights are dark, lit up only by glow-worms or fireflies. Other nights are bright, with the full moon coming up over the crest of the mountain and sending a moonbeam in at my window, over my bed and then across my desk to light up the face of the little laughing Buddha who reposes there.”

One can never run out of material if one has a good window, I think. It’s because of Bond’s writing that I’ve come to appreciate the necessity of one, especially for a writer. If you liked my descriptions (thank you!), you must read his nonfiction. I would recommend beginning with Rain in the Mountains: Notes from the Himalayas. That book changed me–how I looked at books (I thought nonfiction was limited to self-help), how I thought of nature, and how I wrote. I would have been a very different writer without it. On Writing came into my life about a year later and was responsible for making me write every day without fail–it gave me the discipline I needed. But the quality of what I write is owed largely to Bond.

Speaking of weather changes, we had unexpected rain and a dust storm during tea-time yesterday. The house was dark; we had to close all doors and windows to keep out the grit, but when it started raining we couldn’t help standing in the balcony like witnesses. The sun came out at the same time, which means that a sparrow was getting married–that’s what my mother and grandmother say. The meeting of the rain and the sun is a meeting of sparrows too. I can’t help but smile at these tales–there is a heartwarming beauty to the way we explained nature before we had the technology to learn what was actually going on.

I’m glad you liked The Ramparts of Night! My relationship to sleep isn’t consistent. Last night I slept very well, but the day before that my dreams were so crowded with things to do and say that my head felt heavy as I awoke in the middle of the night. About two months ago, I was reading R. F. Kuang’s Babel: An Arcane History and could not put the book down, 8 hours of sleep be damned. Falling asleep is difficult only when I nap during the day–it’s like I steal rest from the night. I have always found it amazing how some of the people I know can nap for hours during the day and still have plenty of sleep leftover for the night, enough that they can keep dozing off well into the next day! Part of me is glad I’m not like them though–I am at my most energetic during the morning and wouldn’t like to miss out on those lovely hours.

I’d always taken the roars of clouds for granted–it never occurred to me that the sounds don’t come from them. In Hindi it’s said “jo badal garajte hain wo baraste nahi”–the clouds that roar aren’t the ones that rain. I was told this when I used to get scared of the thunder, but the saying is also used to refer to people who make a lot of noise but don’t actually do anything. I think an English equivalent of this would be “actions speak louder than words” but it’s not that poetic.

I have not been waking up at 6 am; this past week I’ve been visiting friends and watching cricket matches with my family, which means that I don’t go to bed early enough to wake up with the day. But I might try, in these last handful of days before the move. I plan on being their for the sunrise and sunset on my last day in this city and I hope the sky will be generous–I’ve noticed that clouds are a necessity for the sun to explode with colors across the horizon.

I think our current zeitgeist puts a lot of pressure on us to have a perfect routine. What works for a YouTuber or a celebrity or an author might not work for us. We all live in different socioeconomic situations, with different privileges and abilities and responsibilities and priorities, and we each have a different way of defining joy, as well as what it means to have a “good day”. So I’m not very particular about routines anymore–having some things to do regularly is fine, but the moment I get too particular about the details, I end up making things unnecessarily difficult for myself. Who do we have to please? We can all do with being easier on ourselves a little, I think.

Your question about managing my online life sent me into a week-long spiral that was long due anyway. If I started writing now, I could fill up an entire book with my thoughts, but I have spent enough time with those topics that I don’t actually want to discuss them anymore. Maybe someday I’ll write a somewhat-detailed blog post about it, but here’s my answer, in brief, with the caveat that this is what works for me and is in no way a prescription for how everyone should use the internet (something it took me too long to learn to avoid):

I think of the internet as a tool–a tool to publish my thoughts, a tool to work as a writer, a tool to get in touch with people to make things. I use it for email, for blogging, and for reading. These are the three things I require for work and for my personal projects. Everything else is extra–Mastodon, Reddit, Tumblr. The latter two can suck a lot of my time, but I haven’t deleted them (unlike Facebook and Instagram, which I left soon after the pandemic started) because those two places are where my favorite fandoms live. I have created extremely long passwords for all my accounts–including my email–so that I have to pause and think, “Do I really need to check out this website right now?” before logging in. I log out from each platform as soon as my work there is done, such as when I have posted a link to the latest Kadambari essay. The long-password strategy unfortunately hasn’t worked very well. Last year, I tried putting a time limit on my laptop use, which was quite effective, so I might go back to doing that once we have moved and settled in. There’s too much going on right now for me to follow any kind of schedule.

In sum: I use the internet as a tool, and have removed everything that I don’t need to get work done. For entertainment, I have books, nature, and my notebooks. I do listen to music on YouTube, which works well for me since I can’t close the app to do anything else on my phone (which I use only for banking, calling, and using WhatsApp, which one cannot do without at least here in India).

While checking your blog, I noticed that you wondered on Micro.blog what my books would be like. I’ve not written any, but that comment had me thinking about all the times I’ve described the sky or the weather–which I’ve done a lot, surprisingly–and imagining, as my ambitious, overenthusiastic self is wont to do, putting them together in a little zine or a book. The actual logistics, of course, would be much more complicated, but simply imagining my words in a book has made me want to write more in my diary about the sky. I haven’t actually done so, given how busy I’ve been, but I am excited about writing in my diary in a way I haven’t been for ages, so thank you very much!

Since we’re on the topic, I’d love to know if you’ve ever kept a diary, and how you approach the idea of documenting your life, or if you are more on the “live in the moment rather than hoard memories for an assumed later” kind of person (I find myself swinging between the extremes and trying to ground myself in the middle).

With best wishes,
Ratika

From: Jarrod Blundy
To: Ratika Deshpande
Subject: Re: What does the sky look like where you are?
Date: May 3, 2024

Well, Ratika, I’m back ending our PenPal month writing to you as I did several weeks ago — from my car, trying to eek in a few words before drifting off to sleep. So, speaking of windows, I’m surrounded by them at the moment!

The view from my writing spot, propped up in the backseat as I am, shows me the faint orange glow from a parking lot lamp that’s gently illuminating the dark outline of cars — the “hotel rooms” of my fellow campers/climbers — all around. Behind me, but blocked from view, is the communal campfire pit, bouldering wall, and picnic pavilion — all welcome amenities that are rare for even popular climbing crags.

Thanks for the recommendation of Ruskin Bond. A description like “I would have been a very different writer without it” is like catnip, how can I resist? I’ve added it to my ever-growing list.

If I can leave you with a book recommendation, it would be Piranesi by Susanna Clarke. Not because it’s instructive in any particular way, it’s just the novel that I can’t stop thinking about even two years on from my first read-through. It’s short, a page-turner, and fascinatingly explores cruelty and compassion. Like you said with Babel, I couldn’t put the darn thing down! (Maybe that should have been my Photoblog post for the unputdownable prompt today.)

Your description of the dust storm (which sounds kind of intense — a regular occurrence?) reminded me of the explosion of dirt that emanated from my dog yesterday. My wife and I went for an overnight camping/backpacking trip with him and spent a good portion of the day at our campsites by the pond where he could run in and out of the water for hours, punctuated only by bouts of rolling around in the dirt. We toweled him down the best we could before bed, but he still did his best to cover us with mud by shaking off inside the tent. I screwed up my eyes and mouth against the onslaught but got a nice layer of dirt everywhere else. My tent may never be clean again!

You’re right, of course, about outside influences, well, influencing us to have the perfect routine. “Just wake up early, write, read, and exercise before starting your day and you’ll be an effective person,” and all that. I’ve not been good about sticking to a morning routine, instead listening to what my body is telling me, and sometimes listening. 😉 There are certain things that I prefer to do in the morning because I know how good it makes the rest of my day feel (exercise, for example), but for the rest, I’ve just been going with the flow.

Sorry for sending you into a conundrum about your online life! But it sounds like you’ve landed in a pretty healthy place in how you think about social media and the time and focus you put into the internet in general. It really is one of, if not *the*, most useful tools we humans have ever come up with. The way it lets us communicate, learn, and solve problems together. But can also be a massive distraction. I commend you for finding strategies to limit the pull it can have on your time and attention. The best I’ve done in that regard is setting a few time limits on specific apps, but it’s so easy to circumvent that it’s not as effective.

I love your idea of putting together a zine of your sky descriptions. I would certainly devour such a book! The idea of putting together descriptions about a certain place or thing over time reminds me of A Sand County Almanac, a book that sounds dreadfully boring, but is one of my all-time favorites. In it, author Aldo Leopold describes his farm in Sand County, the flora and fauna that live on it, and contemplates how his actions influence that flora and fauna, and how they all affect each other in turn. It’s foundational reading for environmental education students and certainly gave me a deep appreciation for not only the interconnectedness of an ecosystem but also for being a keen observer and reasoning out cause and effect based on what you see.

As for keeping a diary, I’ve never been consistent about it. I’ve tried keeping journals, writing in the Day One app, and sometimes doing short voice memos to document a day’s story. It’s never stuck. Over the last year or so, though, I’ve come to realize that my blog and microblog fulfill that role for me. As I’ve become more comfortable with sharing more personal stories there (and discarded misguided dreams of being the next big tech blog), I like the idea of a public journal. Sure, there will always be things that I won’t want to share online, and maybe I’ll just write but not publish those posts, but getting those thoughts and feelings out into the world and having conversations with others about them feels good to me. I often go back and read my old blog posts. I never go back to Day One to real old journal entries. 🤷‍♂️ I’ll roll with it for now!

On the “document the moment” or “live in the moment” spectrum, I’ve always been on the “live in the moment” side. I know that pulling out my phone to take a photo often changes or ruins the moment, so I’m often loathe to do it. But, I’ll say that using the Smart Glasses I’ve had for about a month now is changing that calculus. With them, snapping a quick photo or video is seamless, takes no effort, and doesn’t ruin the moment. I got way more photos and videos of our little camping trip than I otherwise would have. I’m looking forward to looking back at them (what a weird sentence!).

And with that, I think that brings our month-long conversation to a close! I’ve enjoyed chatting with you immensely — thank you for agreeing to be part of this project. You’ve rekindled my intrigue of being more descriptive, emotional, and evocative in my writing. I can’t wait to read more of your ongoing works and will be keeping an eye out for that zine. 😉 Best of luck to you with your big move and the chance to form some new habits. My inbox is always open. 🙂

Take care,

Jarrod

From: Ratika Deshpande
To: Jarrod Blundy
Subject: Re: What does the sky look like where you are?
Date: June 13, 2024

Hey Jarrod,
I hope you’ve been well! I meant to reply to this email but things kept getting in the way–and since our pen-pal-ing month is over, I wasn’t sure if I should.

I’ve never been particularly fond of cars (probably because of motion sickness) but the way you described your surroundings makes me want to try spending a night in the car, just for the novelty of the experience.

I hope you enjoy reading Ruskin Bond as much as I have. He just turned 90 and is still putting out books of essays! I can only hope to be as prolific as him!

I have read Piranesi and I loved it too! I’d spent several months not reading any books at all and missed the activity. Piranesi helped me get back into reading, so it’ll always hold a special place in my heart. I especially liked the journaling method Piranesi uses. I tried emulating him but only lasted two days, unfortunately.

Dust storms aren’t a common occurrence, but they aren’t rare either. New Delhi doesn’t get enough rain, and there’s a lot of dust in the city, so when the weather makes up its mind to play with it, it does get very dusty everywhere. I hope your tent didn’t require a lot of cleaning, although, when I read about the fun your dog had, it almost sounds worth it!

We’ve settled down here in Bhopal, finally, and again, while I don’t have a strict routine, I have a vague one, with meal times and bed times driving our routine as a family. My brain works best in the morning, so I try to get most of my work done then, which lets me be lazy in the afternoons a little, which, given the heat outside, is pretty much the only thing I find myself capable of doing at that time of day. Once college starts, I suspect things would be much different; an external routine seems to be the best for me.

Now that we’re settled, I’m finding that I’m not as distracted by social media–not working frustrates me, so I prioritise that, and when I get work done, I find myself just as motivated to spend time with books or family, and the phone gets ignored on its own. I hope it continues this way!

I’ve noted your recommendation of A Sand County Almanac; the book reminds me of one of my favorite fictional characters, Shallan Davar from The Stormlight Archive. The books are 1000+ pages each, so it’s quite a huge time-investment, but if you do like fantasy I’d highly recommend you check them out.

As for the zine, I’m considering the idea seriously again–my experiment with Kadambari and Ko-Fi aren’t really going well, so I’m wondering if there’s something else I can offer that more people would be interested in. If you have any ideas, do let me know–and thanks for your support for the project so far! I really appreciate it!

I’ve been thinking a lot about diaries and I’ve decided that I should write what I like, when I feel like it and where I feel like it. If something feels like it would be nice to share on the blog, I go with that. When something feels more appropriate for my physical diary, I write in there. I used to worry so much about distinguishing between the two, but now I just follow my gut and it’s honestly freeing to not spend so much time worrying about so small a thing!

I recently returned from two weeks of travel, and although I did take pictures, the moments I remember are the ones where I thought of taking a picture or taking notes, but didn’t. I don’t regret not taking more pictures, and I do appreciate the ones I have, so I guess I’ve achieved a nice balance!

And finally, thanks so much for this opportunity to correspond–I enjoyed this very much; each email was a joy to read and receive. Thanks also for your kind words about my writing; a writer could never have enough of those!

I hope you and yours are well! Take care, and all the best!

Ratika