Social Story….

The night had just started. Hi, a notification popped in her phone. Often it was her phone that would wake her from her sleep. Sleep that would elude her when she desired. The message seemed familiar, the ones she was usually frequented with, lurking behind the shadows of promiscuity and lust, she was aware of the pattern. Her hopes had died the day a message that turned into a wild drug, an addiction that usually pervades those in distress. Maybe I should ignore, she said to herself. But there was this deep curiosity inside her that took over her hands. She typed hello and with the cold response she was used to giving to people of all sorts, her reply ended. I was wondering if you could give me a suggestion on the ways to write a book. This time it felt genuine. But she did abstain from replying too soon. Maybe the years of neglect and being taken for granted had taught her, maybe it was something else. She tried to absolve herself in her daily chores, but the thought stick in her head. Just like song that you don’t know the lyrics of. You can have a look at these articles, she typed sharing along some that had helped her too. She was lost in the thoughts when she had begun her journey of penning down her thoughts. The adrenaline rush of a beautiful poem, the serenity of the mind, the calmness of the sea. It all hit her at once. The food in her stomach began to boil, an uneasiness crippled her body. Thank you. Her phone chimed again. It was him. I was really worried about how to begin. I’ll trouble you again. I hope that’s okay. The message read. Sure. She had typed. The night had started to cool down as the dark descended into oblivion. An emoji came from him. She saw the emoji. The one maybe she hadn’t seen before. She put the phone down, trying to concentrate on her work that had been keeping her sane for sometime now. For long she had been subjected to flattery as the world around her put her on a pedestal. The world, this slowly degenerating collection of thoughts and processes that had claimed her to be a little too open for their own amusement. A woman can do whatever she wants unless she stays in the mould that has been created for her since centuries. She must be timid, bashful, easily manipulated. Being born, married, birthing and then death. This was her life cycle. Appreciation was distant to her, acknowledgment unknown. Her thoughts had changed in her early years. Her best friends were her books. They would talk to her, help her sleep without the intent of nothing but to appreciate her. Not just the beauty of her face, the body which she possessed but the mind that had nurtured into an organic system of brilliant ideas. Since long, she had preferred
the veil of her screens than the merciless scorching eyes of the world. Done with her work, she lay down on her bed to sleep. But sleep had betrayed her even before the betrayal of many other kinds. The heart had stopped beating irregularly. Just the rhythmic cycle of her heart was that that kept her moving. Emotions had become a sour patch, nicotine that would mess with her mind. Be logical, she had told herself every time a situation came that would need her decision. This time wasn’t any different. She closed her eyes again and tried to sleep, listening to the melodies ancient. The dark had engulfed the night completely and maybe her too. The night had just begun…..


एक आग का दरिया है,
और डूब के जाना है,
कश्तियाँ हज़ारों हैं शायद,
पर शायद भीग के ही जाना है,
सहम सहम के कब तक चलेंगे जनाब,
यह इश्क़ का दरिया है,
और दूर किनारा है…..