He is an epitome of Justice,
Burn the witch….
He is an epitome of Justice,
Burn the witch….
Why do you need me?
The Sun had asked the Earth.
You make me feel alive.
The Earth had answered….
What happens when two broken souls come together?
She had asked him while they walked along the beach.
I don’t know. He said.
Maybe that’s why the sea touches its shores,
Only to bring back messages unread,
In bottles left to float,
Sometimes shells sealed with tears of the sea,
Nothing ever stays in its belly,
Nothing is ever broken,
They all fit someplace,
He had said.
Her hymns and fragrance lasted in his mind.
As she lost all her form.
I am not as I was before. She said.
Do the day and night ever change. He said.
Although I don’t say anything about people sharing my posts. But it would be nice if I was told that my posts are being shared.
Plagriasm is a crime. Originality and the hard work of anyone goes down the drain during this process.
Please take care.
P. S- this came when I saw a completely similar blog which had some of my posts.
Electricity is a very esteemed guest where I live( if you know what I mean 😜) But yesterday it was not at my home. It was pitch dark in the entire colony and as usual I was awake. I thought of an adventure, to try to scare my Amma who usually by that time of night would be fast asleep.
I took my flashlight and with soft steps came down the stairs towards my parents room.
As I was reaching there, my Amma in a sarcastic tone said, ” Yeh Mashal leke kahan ghum rha hai.” And I was, ” kuch nhi Amma, pani lene aya tha.” Only if there was electricity she would have known that she had just buried her son alive.
Why. Just why Amma…
Image source- Google
Comfortably it had stayed there for a long time, searching for an excuse to be made a free soul, a free maker of its own destiny, to cover canvases of imagination, to erode misconceptions of the many, to say things unsaid, to just play.
My hands were shaking, a deep sensation ran down the very nerves that drove these hands, this body, this mind. How shall I? What should I write? Were some of the questions that bombarded my peace of mind.
I picked up the pen, adjusted the glasses which had seen the many, unseen the many and wrote-
Ma’am, I need 16 marks to qualify. I will study seriously the next semester.
I did it.
The story of most of us engineers. I hope you enjoyed. 😀
There are people, good people who deal with your Devils everyday, bearing every type of heartbreaking accusations.
Some people do gather the courage to understand that all the time it was they who had been wearing faulty glasses.
All they saw was faults of those people, Good people who dealt with Devils that even did not belong to them.
Each of us has been granted a life not with our wish but with the wish of someone more powerful than any of us.
It becomes our responsibility to realize this simple little fact-
Rains pouring on a stormy night,
Were heavenly, were a sight,
Many cried in a tone so unknown,
My crops are fed,
My roof is no more.
I cursed the god,
What went so wrong,
Thundered the god,
A house of cards can stay so long…
Blaming is easy. Anyone can do it.
It takes courage to realize and mend your own mistake.
Be one of those good people.
Usually the rains are too harsh on them.
A curse sat upon them.
They fell in love.
She went inside my veins.
Her clamour made me an animal.
Sharp, strong and fierce.
Piece by piece we tore each other down.
We woke up the next day,
How was I?
Just the way I like.
She said picking up our pieces…..
Dear Miss yet to come,
How are you Miss yet to come? I have been looking for you for sometime now. Yesterday I was walking through the park where sometimes I find really strange but yet too jovial things happening. A kid was learning to ride his bicycle there. I sat down on the same bench where sometimes the little squirrel that lives on the red tree comes down to chew on some munchies. I saw how carefully the father put down his son’s new bicycle. It was a red shining hotride customised only for him, that’s what the kid thought. I could see his face, filled with the emotion of happiness combined with the inhibition of trying the new adventure. He was all ready to ride it. But his father, a little too careful wanted him to wait. “See son you can ride it once I check it.” He said and got busy tweaking the bicycle. The boy noticed every gesture his father made. The movement of the screwdriver, the little red can of oil, the way his father looked at his bicycle. ” When can I ride it?” Curiously he would ask and everytime his father would say just a minute. It was just like preparing for war. Fathers never let their kids enter a war unprepared. I told myself. He checked the protection gear on his son. “Ride my boy.” He exclaimed with joy and a tinge of scepticism. The boy got on the bicycle, ready to ride he asked his father,” what should I do?”. ” Put your legs on the pedal and there you go my lad” he smiled. The kid injected with a desire to ride and a hope to fly, Pushed the pedal. “I am with you son” said the father as he carefully pushed his son into a new Kingdom. It happens frequently. Don’t you think Miss? We are seldom pushed into something we don’t want to venture into and then something magical happens. The earlier feared arena becomes a piece of cake, a walk of lifetime and then we realise it was nothing but our mind that stopped the heart from beating emotionally, not just functionally. The father let go off the bicycle and the kid was now a master of his beast! “Dad, I can ride a bicycle”. His face had grown like the sun which had nothing to fear for, no one to beat, nothing to hide. The kid fell on the next turn. His father came running to him. “See, now you know what it feels like to ride in the wind. You have to keep your feet down my Son.”
The winds were becoming colder as the day had started to sink into the sheets of the calm. The two took off for their home. “We will try harder tomorrow” the father had said.
I sat down there for some more time after they left. A strange fragrance had captured my attention. The same fragrance that poets reverb about, the fragrance we all seek in times of apocalypse. I let myself absorb that fragrance. Intricate cannot be seen, delicate can’t be heard. I had started to feel the cold, my body had started to accept the stillness, it was ready to disintegrate. The best thing about experiences like these is that they are new. One cannot just make them happen. They just flow. I left myself in that state, hoping to a achieve something.
I opened my eyes when a stroke of wind had carefully feathered my forehead. I was now someone I didn’t knew.
I found the kid who was lost in the mundane routine, the father who was crushed by the gigantic boulders of work and most importantly the wind who had lost its ability to fly, to change, to breathe, to listen, to smell and to see.
This park made a way for me Miss. I am glad I stayed.
This winter I hope that winds gets a little colder, the sun a little warmer, the flowers a little merrier and the us a little more closer.
Hoping that you experience something magical like this.
Waiting for you,
With lots of love,
She dropped like the ice,
Smothered my conscience,
Wrecked my peace,
Lay waste to my mind,
Is there anything else I can do for you?
The girl had asked.
Can I get some more ice…….
We wished upon our stars.
Dripping, tripping and clinging.
It was never the light that guided us.
Darkness plays it’s part.
The pragmatic and the dogmatic.
Then there are Miracles…
Sipping you with every gulp,
I was ecstatic,
Intoxication seemed a close friend,
They still serve only alcohol here.
They say use me. Dustbin were supposed to be not living….
I was craving for a piece of her.
The one all pretty and smooth.
She had a veil.
You are not the one.
Infatuation and love.
It is amazing how our own eyes lead to one person and then again we see clearly why they were never meant to be in our lives. It is all just a mirage. Right People come in our lives until the time demands…
When it was you there was no me. Now when there is no you there is no me….
Someone who understands our silence should be held onto forever because the things kept to oneself are the things that bother one the most….
Every saint has a past and every sinner a future…..