The Mind Bin

You know those people who have about fifty amazing ideas, a hundred spectacular friends, and a thousand important events to attend? Bang on, I am---

definitely NOT one of them.

But you know that person who comes up with a number of silly ideas, doesn’t tell anyone because she thinks her ideas are silly but falls in love with some of them so much so that she can’t help but pursue them to the ends of the earth? That person, my friends, is me. And ‘The Mind Bin’ was one such idea that silly, as it sounded in my head, stuck and never really left my side.

I call myself a dreamer, an incurable dreamer. As a child, I loved listening to magical stories, fairytales, and all sorts of fantastical fables that in no practical world would or could ever come true. But the child me was so hopeful that she never stopped dreaming, building her castles in the air, writing her stories down, sketching her ideas out. The child me had this impossible dream of creating magic.  

But that was childhood and children are very different from adults. Or are they?

Fast forward to 2024. I have a stable (whatever stability means in this day and age) decently high-paying (whatever high-paying means to you; to me it meant not thinking too much before spending on stuff I set my eyes on) job, two books traditionally published and a growing name in the Indian writing industry (Really? How big is that?) and a newly acquired husband (mischief managed- by him or me- we would probably never know).

And just then, I did a Kipling. Not the western terminal station in the TTC subway system, but the poet Rudyard Kipling, duh. The following verses of ‘IF’ have always struck me deep:

If I made one heap of all my winnings and risked it on one turn of pitch-and-toss…

Yes, what if I really did that? What is the worst that could happen?

But most of my friends and well-wishers asked me- why? Why would you do something foolish and risky? Why would you throw a perfectly (is anything ever perfect?) good life and venture into the unknown?

Hmmm, I gave it quite a bit of thought but the only answer that occurred to me was…

Because I can?

Do you ask a child why they are kicking pebbles or splashing in the pool or eating chalk?

There is no reason why they do things. So, why would you ask me?

The child in me always wanted to create magic, to do whatever came to her head. But she was a child then. She was afraid and without resources. Today, she is an adult. She worked hard to create the ideal conditions for herself to take just the risks she has always wanted to take, to do all the fun and silly things she always wanted to do. And now when she is at a stage when she can do it, you ask her why? You ask her to listen to reason and abandon her dream of creating magic?

Well, you forgot that she still remembers her dream. Sometimes, the world lacks people who remember what they always dreamt about. The world lacks ideas and entities and dreams that are so powerful that they don’t leave your side. The Mind Bin along with its other idea friends are exceptions.  

Now it’s time I tell you what The Mind Bin is all about. Well, it’s not that fancy, anyway… 

In 2014, it was just a blog where I penned my stories and poems and all the other stuff collecting in my mind’s bin. Gradually, it turned into a haven where I invited other dreamers like me to join me in their creative pursuits. Some of them were children who were just learning to interpret their dreams, write their ideas down and build their own castles. Some of them were far older than me and were either remembering their old dreams or discovering new ones. What was common among all of us though was that we were committed to the child in us, the child who wanted to create magic.

As the eldest sibling (you know the elder daughter syndrome), while I’ve always dreamed of becoming a writer, I had reality hammering at the back of my head all the time. My writing dreams were on hold for so long that for a time, I even forgot they were there. And then suddenly, in the throes of work, I remembered them. A spark on a bed of ice. An idea that had the child me scribbling away for days, months and years till in 2022, 'Mis(s)adventures of a Salesgirl' was born. The spark had turned to a lingering glow, hot and strong. ‘The 13-year-old Queen’ followed soon after in 2023. It could have turned into a blaze.

Maybe it did.

In 2024, I blazed a weird trail. I decided to move to a new country. To reset my game. Start over. Back to square one.

A lot of things followed my move to Canada as reality set in. Housing shock (more like space shock)- even though I had grown up and lived in a city, I still have always lived in a place bigger than a matchbox. Yes, I live in a matchbox in the sky. Don’t take me wrong, I do love the sky. It’s just that I get a lot of knee bruises while staring at the sky and traversing the distance between my bed and the refrigerator; it’s the first time I am missing empty space in my apartment which is shared with three more people, by the way. The four of us have ended up knowing a lot more about each other without wanting to. Let’s just leave it at that. 

Household chores- I do not want to expand on it- I think this is providence; my grandmother always told me to do my own chores but I rest this blame on my father who thought he was raising a princess and I console myself today by calling myself a brown Cinderella. 

Course work – even though I willingly chose to go back to school, I have never really been a fan of homework; it brings all sorts of procrastination monsters to the fore. Team charters, timelines, capstone projects- you know the drill. 

Emotional challenges- ‘what even are they?’ I say as I wipe my tears while writing this. A long-distance relationship is hard for people who grew up on Disney movies and thought life was all roses and fireworks, not buffering screens, mismatched time zones, and talking to a pixelated version of your better half. 

Financial issues- read The Economist or The Wall Street Journal and you will know what I am talking about; if you don’t want to read, just know that I think twice before buying strawberries every week. It doesn’t help that I decided to quit my day job and start on a ‘road not taken’ (thanks, Frost) altogether. In short, I am facing the whole shebang of starting afresh.

But here is the thing. Since I landed in Toronto, I made it a point to convince the shy child in me to talk to the shy children in people from all parts of the world and you won’t believe the kind of stories that resulted from these conversations over countless cups of coffee (that’s where all my money is going). Such powerful identities and stories of all lengths and breadths have come at me but most important are the experiences. The experiences are simply so colorful (no pun intended). The Mind Bin has assumed a new color here (maybe pun is intended now). It has taken on the role of a safe space for all of these people who shared parts of their life, their emotions, their stories with me and I am consuming them like French Press coffee (maybe it’s time to limit my caffeine intake).

The Mind Bin has become a house of ideas and connections, something I hadn’t imagined for it before. But that’s the power and beauty of dreams, they create unexpected possibilities. I know what it’s like to be brand new at a place, to not belong, feel wrongfooted, and yet, take those baby steps ahead to create something for myself.

As I do that, I look at the ones around me who are doing the same, motoring forward, sticking to their childhood dreams and not letting go while their realities converge and collide and do what they are supposed to do. But along with everything else, I see the dreams growing roots so that our leaf selves are not blown away so easily.  

The Mind Bin is taking root in this whirlwind, in these moments where I find myself scribbling down thoughts or helping a new friend work through their own challenges. It has become a space—a bin, if you will—where dreams, doubts, and stories can safely land, grow, or rest. Magic can be of many types, sometimes it’s a grand fairy tale (or so we hope) but more often than not, it’s a small spark we discover in moments of vulnerability. 

Maybe the world lacks silliness and a certain dreaminess. And each conversation I have with people is a reminder that I didn’t come here to start over—I came to keep building, building on the magical dream. And now, The Mind Bin is not just mine—it’s everyone’s.

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