I didn’t quite know where to begin, only that I felt full, brimming with thoughts, emotions and a sudden urge to let them flow. And maybe that’s reason enough for me to be here in this space that I was introduced to by a bunch of incredible people who wrote with utmost passion.
Uma, why now?
Because somewhere along the way, I found myself surrounded by a group of people I’ve never met, yet who’ve shown me nothing but kindness, encouragement and warmth. Through their words, their shared moments and an incredibly unfiltered enthusiasm for just about everything under the sun, they have all created something truly special for me.
This is my way of reaching out to my ILLU FAMILY. It’s a quiet, heartfelt hug to each one of them. Filled with gratitude, comfort, and a deep appreciation for the space you’ve created, where everything feels so comfortable and warm.
To start with, I’m thinking of writing once a week about all the interesting things I come across. Books, films, music, quotes, poems, articles, links and what not.
I’ve always been like this. An all-over-the-place weirdo whose mind could never just hold on to one thing. So I end up collecting everything that catches my attention, packing it into my peanut brain, and feeling this overwhelming urge to share it with the amazing people around me.
Now, here I am and you’ll finally get to see all the little things I save to keep myself sane.
I didn’t have to think much about a name for this blog. “UMARGINALIAN” was given to me long ago by my Illu’s. I think it was Nikhil or was it Sumit? (I’m sorry guys, like I said, peanut brain.)
At first, I felt a little embarrassed that they named me after something as beautiful and full of life as The Marginalian, a creation by curator and writer Maria Popova. I could never see myself as good or as talented as her. But then I realized I don’t have to be. Instead of feeling intimidated, I can take it as inspiration. Maybe I can grow even a small shoot of that same passion, patience, and creativity within me and make the people who gave me this name proud.
So, UMARGINALIAN it is.
They’ve been asking me for so long to create a space where I can share my thoughts and archive all these little things I collect. My inconsistent ass never had an answer beyond a casual ‘Sure, someday soon,’ only to forget about it the very next minute.
But what finally made me do it now was a beautiful gift that came my way. My ILLU family sent me the Little Black Classics Book Set, 80 Penguin Classics, as a birthday gift. So what?
Well, what does the word ‘precious’ mean to you?
For me, it’s knowing that you live in the thoughts of people who genuinely care about you, people who love you and think of you whenever they get the chance. The gift made me skip like a child, but the gesture melted me, like ice that had been frozen for months without any warmth.
Forever grateful to Diljeetji and each one of you who took the effort to make me feel so special. I love you guys.
Speaking of thoughts, Deval is already on her 32nd book of the year, and her update pushed me to finally crawl out of my reading slump. But the very first sentence of the book I picked sent me spiraling so hard that I couldn’t read a line further.
The sentence was:
After that, I died. I saw myself lying in our living room, surrounded by the people I know and love, mourning over my body. But then I turned around and stared out the front door, wondering who would walk through it. Would they have tears in their eyes? Would they whisper, ‘What a kind person she was’? Or maybe, ‘She is gone for good’?
And just like that, I was lost in a loop of thoughts I didn’t know how to hold, let alone make sense of.
I still don’t know what to do with all these absurd thoughts.
I wrote a novel. I sat down to write something and ended up with a 35,000-word story about grief, regrets and redemption. I’ve read it twice, and it makes no sense to me.
Still, I decided to print it out, spiral-bind it, and keep it, a proud reminder to myself, Uma, you can do it. Maybe not now, but someday, you’ll write better.
Facebook memories popped up with this awkward swimming video of mine, and I noticed one of my friends had commented, “Ophelia from Flipkart.”
I dropped a teary smile emoji in reply, opened a new tab, searched for Ophelia by Sir John Everett Millais, and found myself staring at the painting for a good twenty minutes.
Ophelia’s death has often been praised as one of the most poetically written death scenes in literature. But look at her, she is not dead yet. She is singing, broken and haunting songs of her loss and Hamlet’s betrayal. She doesn’t look insane to me. She looks calm, almost like her suppressed voice has finally found a way out.
She didn’t drown, she simply let go of the weight of all the pain she had been carrying.
I cried for a minute. I am she. She is me.
I cry a lot. My throat tightens and my chest feels heavy, even over something as simple as a silly cartoon.
Uma, so happy to be able to add your substack to my reading list! Delighted really.
On Kairos, let me know what you feel about it. Read it recently - have a lot of thoughts. 😊