So Put Down Your Knife And Live Your Life.

Art Work from One Tree Hill

I look outside of my window,
and everyone seems to be just like me,
And entirely different.
They too have one nose,
two legs, two arms,
hair on their head,
two eyes, a mouth.
But do they have
the mole on my hip,
the curve of my lip.
do they have the
memory of my lisp?
Do they have the
clothes that I wear,
the things that bring me to tears,
the voice that I get when I cheer?
Do they have the nights
I spent in love,
the noons when songs
from years ago, made me realize
how living has never changed,
and that the pain that
I felt has been felt before
and the happiness
with my friends, has made
hearts grow more giving, before?
DO they have my life,
m y  m e m o r i e s
the blood that runs
in my veins, the thoughts
that I think,
the essence of me,
t h e  p o e t r y
in me, my grace, my stance?

No. They don’t.

They why should I feel replaceable?

“For Humans”

There was once an old lady,
who had lived all and was waiting
for her death, with a troubled breath,
As she stood by the door,
every day more devastating.
She’d lost her husband to the land,
and there was no other name bearer,
who could live to her legacy and
be told in the bards, as the son of one
to whom death was the most dear.

Each day with a bated breath, she
looked forward to her final visitor,
But he never came and she always cried
because she really thought
it really was her time.
Her neighbors, her crazy kept at a distance
but that didn’t stop them to whisper,
“Ah that old, mental, moronic lady
Who is she waiting for to take her crazy,
a demonic mister?”

But somehow, things changed, as mostly she,
she realized they weren’t waiting for her
As much as she was for death,
And things changed, and soon the neighbor
kids played until they were panting with breath.
She made cookies and called for tea,
all the fancy dressed, beautiful ladies,
And soon her garden was bright and gay
And loneliness, she barred and mostly
was like a bright day in May.

But one day, when all the ladies
Came to her house for their tea
and the daily gossip they all shared,
they found the door locked, and her house
strangely, dead, and lifeless, and bare.
Worried, they rushed and somehow
broke the door and they entered,
upon a lifeless host, they cried,
The old widow, lying on the floor,
with a smile on her face, had died.

They looked around and some rushed 
out to call for help, but one, 
spotted a piece of paper, on the bed.
They shrieked, and some stood stunned
and then, cried in horror; 
it was from Death.

“She was a poor sod who thought, 
she’d lived life to the fullest,
Oh, what a fool humans are, 
They don’t know what is the best.
Waiting for me instead when you
should be making memories,
living life with love and people who are dear.
So that once you die, there are no fears
of having not taken the chance,
the chance to be alive after death,
to be alive in others’ memories and hearts.
And that’s why I kept her waiting,
for she didn’t know what’s right,
But fear not, my ladies,
She came to me with a smile,
and looked down upon all of you,
and waved a goodbye;
she sprinkled on some pixie dust,
And rests now, with her husband,
very happy and content, high above.”

Fall For A Magician.

Fall for a magician. Fall in love with a magician, a magician whose words weave mystical lands in thin air, who draws blind faith of a fading summer, whose voice makes the insides warm and squishy and it is as if everything is just right.

Fall for someone who cannot admire you enough despite the imperfections that you make evident, complaining; someone who lends to these imperfections a rhythm, a symphony, a song, a tune while stringing their guitar in the morning, while you indulge in some breakfast in bed that they prepared for you, in a voice so beautiful that it makes you giggle and blush.

Fall for someone who isn’t afraid to tell you how they fell for you; someone who chooses the right words and isn’t hesitant to tell you when it happened, almost like two worlds colliding, two universes colliding and being one for eternity; someone who can write a book about how they love the way you brush your hair, or the small mole on your back, or the color of your eye, or the glint n your hair when sunlight falls on it.

Fall for someone who paints you while you sit engrossed in your book, someone who converges the two you’s: the one of their dreams and the one that is you, in yellows and reds and in colors unseen and shades unnoticed, small details that give incredible depth and beauty and charm and poise to that simple crayon painting, making it so beautiful to look at, that it hurts.

Fall for someone who makes you their muse. That way, it doesn’t matter if you live or you die, if you laugh or cry, if it works or if it doesn’t, because it will always be there when you’re sad or lonely or depressed and you feel unloved and ugly, and maybe for just some time, your song, your poem, your picture will make you happy, and maybe, just maybe, make everything better for a while.

So fall in love with a magician, and it might just the be the best thing you would have ever done.

 

Hope.

Source: Humans Of New York

We put out our homes- those rolled up bedding
Made of ragged clothes, torn paper, and damp cardboard.
Hopefully, things will be better where we are heading,
Leaving behind our homes, our jobs, our Ford.
Till now, our feet have swollen and are sore,
From walking uncountable miles, to destinations unknown.
Beaten, bullied, tortured to the core,
It’s sufferings that our eyes will shine and have shone.
We fight for a can of water and a morsel of bread,
And there’s hardly any fire to keep us warm,
Hearts went cold from when we saw the river red
Wet the streets used to the dry desert storms.
Memories of all the war grapple us like crabs
Our dreams and nightmares, all woven into one.
You peer in curiosity at the wounds that haven’t even dried yet-scabs.
Relating what we have gone through will leave you stunned.
We come and go, all scarred faces,
We come to strange lands to escape our owns
We come overladen in boats that run in races,
Some of us also drown in the sea lie stones.
Then we may wash up on the sea and you will be horrified,
To see the state the world have come to.
To see brothers kill brothers, to see friends who’ve died,
To see those who have suffered and those who got through.
We may not have a future and we have eradicated our past,
There is not much we can do for our dears.
We are broken and helpless and tired and wouldn’t last
If it weren’t for the hope that’s greater than fear.

Music Today: 27/07/2015

Dua: No One Killed Jessica

Releasing Year: 2010

This song by the controversial movie, No One Killed Jessica has a lot to do with what the entire nation is feeling at the moment, having lost an idol and the best president it has ever seen. The song in itself has such beautiful music and the lyrics are soothing. Meenal Jain, who has sung this song, has done justice by delivering a song that is both hopeful and sad at the same time. Also, in the movie, the song is strategically placed to as to arouse the maximum goosebumps.

The movie based on the notorious Jessica Lal case gave us the chills.

Pocket Stories #1

She thought there was no other way left fo her. The last three years of her life had been testing. First, the battle with rug addiction, then the divorce, the custody of her children, and now, the near moneylessness. It was enough. She stared at the razor blade in her hand.

She took a deep breath, and imagined the pain it would cause. She could visualize the blade cutting through her veins and she relished it. She closed her eyes. Just as she touched the blade to her wrist, the phone vibrated. Who would want to talk to me? She picked up her phone and stared at the message. “Your book’s perfect. Out in January, 2016. Call me asap.”

She was stunned. She stared at the razor  in her hand and cried. She cried for a long time.

*Total work of fiction. Isn’t in any way related to how I feel.*

Soothe Sunday #2

It’s been a really long time since I posted a Soothe Sunday, let alone post anything at all. It’s that I’ve been incredibly busy this week with a lot of things, that I’ll update you readers on later. But, presenting to you, Soothe Sundays #2

This is from one of my favorite books, The Hunger Games. And it holds true so damn much. What are your thoughts? Is it, or has it proved true at any time of your life? Please comment.

Hope you’ve had a great weekend!

The War.

Whipping hair from the wind,
Under the moonlit sky.
The only lights are those of our car,
And the sparkle of your eye.
The gravel crunching under the tire
And the waves of the dark mirror.
And the white foam on the sandy beach,
That is joined by the flamboyant river. 
The huge palm trees at the end of the land
In the shadows hide my kisses. 
The blissful silence silence doesn’t follow,
My longing caresses.
Ah, what a moment it is,
of pure joy pulsating in my veins,
Your laughter that echoes
In the dark, dusty plains.
But alas, your love is limited to,
The waves of sea that come and go,
And up till the last minute of the unlit sky 
And vanishes at the first glow. 
Then it’s time to say goodbye, 
And fare you well, my dear.
Last night I spend with you,
Before I leave for war,
Take care, my ever lasting love, adieu. 
For meet we ever again, it’s not sure, 
So hope and pray for the best. 
And never forget myself, or our love,
And leave to destiny, the rest.

The Sails.

The raging tempest, howling winds.
Somewhere overhead, the shatter of glass.
Gloom, despair, loneliness, it brings,
Tilting the- and breaking- blooming table vase.
Ferocious sounds, bringer of sands,
Forcing people both within and out.
Carrying the vicious melody of some faraway lands,
Birds helplessly- their homes-scout.
And the blast beruffled hair,
Sticks, rogue leaves, and stones and grains,
Stripping tall trees, leaving them bare.
Creating high and low sandstorms in the plains.
And the grey high ceiling, dark and overcast,
Today hangs low and without
The usual gaiety, bright yellow blast,
Turns paler like suffering from a fever bout.
And suddenly the clouds scatter to give
The adamant first ray of sun.
Inching slyly towards all those who live:
Slowly at first, then quick as a gun.
And the winds settle calm and cool,
Silence that lends from the eye of storm.
Everything a nature’s joke-mean and cruel,
No one wonders where it originated from.
The birds befriend the winds and they
Find their way happily.
Everyone without finds a reason to stay,
A spasm of nervousness and then laughter hysterically.
The nature mocks and scolds and waves,
And shows the one in control, in such horrendous gales.
No one survives- not a coward, nor a brave,
When nature takes, in his hands. the sails.

Keeping It Together.

I haven’t been very active lately, with my class 12 and quite a few goodbyes to say. My best friend Palak left for Bombay today, forever. To say it was a tearful affair is an insult. Our group of five people, we were literally sobbing. Also last week, an exchange student Caterina, as good as my sister, who had been Inida for the past year, left and went back. It was also tearful. This poem is for all the goodbyes that we have to say at every turn of our lives:

KEEPING IT TOGETHER
-Specially written for Palak’s and Caterina’s after-farewell

They say people always leave,
And it’s something on which you can grieve.
But grief is like a thief,
Makes happiness short and brief.
There’s always something to be happy about,
Happiness is longer, misery comes in bouts.
Because it’s better to focus on what keeping you together,
Than what’s tearing you apart in this stormy weather.
Emotions, like rain and storm become a whirlwind,
Depression and sorrow always combine.
But joy is like thunder tearing through the sky,
Making its way, fighting by and by.
It’s easier to mope and cry and pout,
Than to see hope and optimism about.
And that when there is no way,
It’s easier to cry than to ask them to stay.
And then there is, for you, a choice,
To relive the past and rejoice,
To love and smile and the moments spent past,
Flooding the mind, as they from the gates of memories, blast.
Because at times, it’s better to focus on what keeping you together,
Than what’s tearing you apart in this stormy weather.

Palak and Me

We’re the ones to the right extreme.