my name is ved. not my real name. just the one people in pune decided to stick on me and never bothered updating.

i don’t live in pune anymore. my family moved to ahmedabad when i was eight, and since then my life has been evenly, and very inconveniently, split between the two. i love ahmedabad. but i also keep going back to pune. i don’t have a clean explanation for this. could be the culture. could be the people. could be the rain, the clubs, or the general illusion that life feels better there. i’m fine not knowing.

what’s stranger is that the cities seem to come with different versions of me. in ahmedabad, i’m quiet, anxious, and mostly in my head. in pune, i’m louder, more confident, and occasionally unbearable. i’d like to say this is some deep psychological phenomenon, but it’s probably just the people around me.

i’m not a writer or an author. those titles require discipline and observation, both of which i lack in consistent amounts. writing isn’t what i do for a living. it’s what i do when explaining myself feels like too much effort. i read constantly. not selectively. if it exists, i’ll probably read it, even if it has nothing to do with my work or my life.

i have more hobbies than free time. reading and writing, obviously. music, definitely. from kishore kumar to the 1975 to radiohead depending on the day and the level of sleep deprivation. i don’t sleep much. i don’t enjoy it. if we’re sitting in a café talking about something uninteresting, there’s a strong chance i’ll fall asleep while holding an espresso.

when i do find time, i write, read, play guitar, build things, learn things i won’t use, and spend an unreasonable amount of time in cafés.

this is where the thoughts go when they refuse to stay quiet.