On the final eve of December last year...

...I jotted down notes to myself on a piece of ordinary lined paper.

The tone of each note varied. Some were admonishing, others forgiving. It was very difficult to write a few because they spelt guilt no matter what the words.

I didn’t stop writing till I had poured out all my unfulfilled dreams, my regrets, my sorrow and my helplessness.

Then I took this piece of ordinary lined paper and tore it, once, twice, thrice and then over and over again till there was nothing left.