Comfort

 At initial musings, ‘comfort’ appears to be a momentary emotion that envelops us shortly, briefly numbing our pain and suffering. It is often perceived as a goal, one that needs to be attained through disciplined practices aimed at soothing the body and soul. However, I’ve now come to realise that comfort is so much more than just an intangible yearning. It can be manifested into a concrete place, person or even an experience. A mere thought which instantly incinerates all worries with its fiery warmth, fueled from nostalgic reminisce.

Comfort is drinking my hundredth cup of black coffee from the same ceramic mug every day, making the same satisfied “ahhh” sound  as the piping hot fluids race to my brain, instantaneously easing it with ripples of peace

Comfort is wearing a purple beaded bracket on my wrist and thinking of Ananya, for she too wears its replica on hers.

Comfort is nestling underneath layers of soft blankets, laying submerged as waves of calm crash over my subconscious.

Comfort is going to my favourite bookstore and climbing the creaking stairs, burrowing myself in a haven full of books on all four sides, creating my own realm, momentarily escaping reality lurking below the wooden stairs.

Comfort is relentlessly bugging my dad to press my head as needles prick their way into my mind, making my sanity bleeding out like a corpse. 

Comfort is eating a scrumptious bowl of oats, adorned with glistening strawberries, and thinking to myself, “If cooking oats was a form of art, my name would be remembered alongside Dali and Monet.”

Comfort is resting my head on Mihika’s shoulder while we listen to music blaring through our shared earphones, during the bus ride home. Her presence acts as an indistinguishable light that never fails to glimmer radiantly and seep into me as well, despite the bleak grey skies that envelope me suffocatingly.

Comfort is reading my first-ever copy of The Secret History and smiling idiotically at the coffee-stained pages and frantically annotated margins with indiscernible words scrawled in an obsessive frenzy, instigated by the racing thumps of my beating heart.

Comfort is bantering with my mom every time I see her, the wild replies sending me into fits of laughter.

Comfort is looking through my camera roll, reminiscing over the best memories I’ve made in the most surprising settings.

Comfort is calling Mayank at 4 am, knowing he’ll pick up to listen to the same rants, about the same people, fully aware that I’ll end up doing the same thing I always do- never taking his advice.

Comfort is reading disarmed documents adorned with words written by a version of me that no longer exists, misty eyed, remembering how the world didn't end when I was 16, despite the seemingly earth shattering events which engulfed me.

Comfort is sleeping on Anoushka’s lap, after an exhausting day at school, feeling as if I'm carrying the world’s weight on my drooping shoulders, her lap nestling my pain away, her fingers stroking the anxiety away, one caress at a time. 

Comfort is hugging Lizzy, my beloved pet unicorn, for when I see her, I glimpse the literal incarnation of my soul- a pink unicorn with large doll shaped eyes, full of emotions that flow deeper than the Marina Trench. 

This note was simple, devoid of poetic musings and intellectual perspectives. It was straightforward yet beautiful, much like the subjects I’ve written about in this piece, they may not be the most glamorous, but they have a hold on my heart that nothing can ever loosen. They bring me comfort, and always will. And what is comfort? Moments I always go back to whenever my heart feels as if it's being turned mercilessly by a honed knife. Comfort is anything and everything capable of morphing the bleakest circumstances into tolerable situations, allowing glints of light to shine through the rock-hard abyss of darkness that materialises as an illusion of eternity. 

Wherever you are in the world currently, whether it be nestled happily in bed with a cup of your favourite beverage, the streets as you busily try to scan through this piece trying to get through it because my mom forwarded it to you, or anywhere else in this vast universe- I hope as you read this piece, your mind wandered to what brings you comfort, your anchors in the floating island we’re all lost in. I hope you too can create a list just as intricate as mine, yapping endlessly about what comforts you <3