As I open my window, my eyes, fall on you. I see you smiling, up from the walls. As I escape my door, to knock on yours, I find some of you, peeking through, the fence, Alluring, the passersby. I envy, the flourishing gardens you adorn. So I move closer, to feel, your presence. Your sparkly eyes, glint, with a twinkle, when I touch you with my bare fingers. Sitting on the crown, your smirk mischievously, relishing, the spotlight. Bestowed by your charm, I decide, to ornate, my place, with your aesthetic. So I bring, the enchantment, of the spring, home.
The silver knife in the pool of redness was lying in the sink. Among all those dirty yellow dishes, there were spots of red. And then there was this day-old curry smell, with a hint of fresh blood smell.
Sometimes we cut ourselves, and sometimes others cut us. Sometimes it’s physical, while sometimes it’s emotional. Sometimes it’s apparent, and sometimes it’s a little obscure. Sometimes its words said very non-nonchalantly, that slit you apart, leaving you to writhe in pain, with paleness left behind. Most often, the malefactor is unaware of the consequences of their words. And sometimes they are, and they intentionally go on, causing the massacre. Sometimes its revenge and sometimes it’s their idea of fun.
Alizah, who has recently converted herself into a human, was unable to comprehend this capacity of human hatred. She has witnessed their love for each other; this aggravated malice was unthinkable for her newly adapted human brain. In her race, they killed each other with a touch, when someone crossed the written code. But she realised that human though considered killing an offence and called it murder, took great pleasure in throwing heart-wrenching words. And no one is to be blamed if someone dies of bad words. Those who die because of words were often considered too weak and unfit for human society. There was no social code that found death with words as murder.
Closing her eyes, she tried to recall the medication to stop the bleeding. In her veins, there was still some element of her past life, which was capable of healing injuries, caused by humans. Holding her wrists, she concentrated on her black molecules, which slowly stopped the oozing blood.
Today she was able to survive and heal, but who knows for how long will she be able to bear the atrocities of humans? Whether the love of millimetres, provided over short spans, will turn the hatred of litres. Only time will tell whether humans can be real humans to a non-human.
Some people are so full of themselves that they deny all the wrongs they have done to others. They won’t accept all the pain and humiliations they have put others through. They still have the guts to say that it’s them who are the victim while all the time they were the real torturers. I never get how people can be so ignorant of the wrongs they do to people like you keep pushing someone to the fence and when that person starts bleeding and start revolting against you, you start behaving like as if it’s their fault that they didn’t see the fence all this time.
I am furious and upset right now, but I am not someone who yell or abuse or throw things at people. The only way I know is to write and vent out my anger here on my blog, which is one of the few places that belong to me. I don’ know whether all this writing will ever take me anywhere, but how can you be sure that it won’t take you to the places you always wanted to see. Life is tricky and unreliable, we all make shitty decisions, we all go through hell at times, but that’s, not the reason that you should make other person’s life a living hell. And the biggest crime is not accepting all the wrong’s you have done to that person. It’s like you knowingly put the knife in someone’s hand, and when they get cut you say, it’s you who was holding it, while the person was still tied to the rope you were holding.
But then every experience teaches you something, something about yourself. Sometimes it comes in the form of a bolt of lightning hitting your head where you get some realization, and you start seeing a different perspective of the situation. You start realizing that it’s not wrong to keep yourself at first in your priority list. It’s not a crime if you make some tough decisions to make yourself happy. Your happiness is important too, people might disagree on that, but let me assure you I have been someone who always tries to make others happy, but only a few like I count those people on my finger, have worked very hard to make me happy. The soul kind off happy, where if death comes to me at this very moment, I will die happy.
PS: If you are reading this, I am sorry for filling your Saturday with my rant. But I had to get it out of my system, and I hope you understand.
The winds once again have changed their direction, there was certain coldness in it now, signalling the oncoming winter season. She wobbled around in her swollen belly, collecting clothes from the clothesline. She was due in the next fifteen days, but the old ladies of the village said that children are always born before their due date. She doesn’t know much about it, and it’s her first pregnancy. She doesn’t even have any access to books and magazines to help her in this hilly village which is cut out of the city by miles. So everything she knew came from the mouths of other experienced women.
In his last letter, her husband informed her that he would not be able to come during the birth of the child. But he promised that he would visit around March. He asked her to take good care of herself and the child.
Her life took a huge turn, a year and a half ago. She was an educated city girl, now living in a remote village, where you walked miles to get the water. The poetry and the hidden words of wisdom that her books gave her were diminishing. But the entry of the tiny seed inside her womb revived her back to life. It gave meaning to her existence. Now at night, she was no longer alone, there was a companion who was listening to her. She recited all the poetry and the stories she has read all along. She knew the baby was in love with words just like her. They had an invincible bond, making them two burning flames of the same light.
Slowly she stepped on the staircase with the bundle of dry clothes. She lowered her body to sit on the floor and started folding the clothes in a neat pile next to her. It was then that she felt some prickling pain in her abdomen. She tried standing up from the floor, but she couldn’t. The pain was increasing with such intensity that she knew that the time has come.
She cried in pain, calling her aunt in law for help, who was busy setting up the dinner for the family. Before someone could come over for help, she collapsed on the floor. They revived her somehow, and her body was aching all over the place. She was in a different room now, and someone was holding her hands. The saree was taken off from her body, and she could feel a hand touching her genitals. An unknown soft wrinkled faced woman loomed over her. With an old white cotton saree draped on her sagging skin, covering her head which hid the streaks of white hair among the lustrous black, parted from the middle, gave her a wry smile. She knew from that smile that woman was the midwife, who will help her bring the life inside her in the outside world. She was profusely sweating, and she could feel someone’s hand wiping her face again and again. Her cries were getting louder with the passing time, and the voices around her kept asking her to push harder. She pushed hard enough one last time and everything after that was hazy in her mind, now.
It’s been years now, but the memory of that day still haunts her at times. The blue body of her first born child never entered this world, but somehow, it never left her soul. The small warm droplets have started falling from her eyes now. A warm hand wipes up her tears, and she looks up at her daughter’s face, her third born but to the world her second born child. It took her twenty-five years to open her wounded soul to someone. She held her daughter’s hand and said “that’s why I never buy any new thing on Dhanteras” because that day I lost something so precious to my existence that no worldly thing would ever compensate it.
After that day her daughter never asked her mother to celebrate the festival. Years later when her daughter started her own family, she would follow in her mother’s footsteps. Never buying any new thing but never forgetting lighting up a diya in her brother’s name. For the world, she had only one brother, but in her heart, she never forgot that she had another one in another realm.
PS: Today I have completed four years of my Blogging journey on WordPress. So I thought of sharing this true story. Some pieces are hard to write and this one is one such write up. So with lot of shilly-shallying, I bring this story out here for you to read. I hope you guys like it
Here she comes tiptoeing on the dry land leaving the warm comfort of dark clouds engulfing all other odors filling the air with its sweet muddy scent. The clouds roar in pain of separation. Striking lightning and thunder on nature. The soaked earth bears their wrath without a flinch. Welcoming, tiny big droplets in its bosom. She looks up at her sad lover, with a wry smile, on her moon face. As if, concealing some last secret, to him. The earth consoles her, with a warm hug, and wise words, Sometimes to reach the zenith you need to pass through the hell.
PS: The city has been showered with its first rain of the season, subsiding the scorching heat of the summer. And I couldn’t resist my temptation to roll down my words on the piece of parchment.
March you made me feel seventeen again. The month started with the trepidation of upcoming days, Just like then where I feared about my last exams of school life, This time the fear was different, but the jitters were the same, I was seventeen again. This March had tears too, Just like then where I cried for the end of my school life. The melody of life was jumbled up, and the future looked blurred, I felt like a fool for being seventeen again.
I was reading Harry Potter then too, And I read Harry Potter in this March also, Cause I was reliving my seventeenth year unbeknownst to myself.
I was trying hard to conceal the darkness inside me Shoving away the lurking shadows in the boxes of my concealed past.
This March I laughed a bit too, at silly things, the funny cats and dog memes,
It was the night that brought with it, the stillness of my life. I craved some moments to last forever, Even though I knew there is nothing like forever, But what can I say, after all, I was seventeen again. The beauty of seventeen is, it has hope packed with layers of disappointment, Whereas now, I need to search for light within. This march I felt seventeen again, With highs as high as hurricane high, Lows as low as Mariana Trench. The only difference, Between then and now is, The intensity of emotions, The Mt Kilimanjaro of then became Mt Everest of now. So this how my march begin, and will end, by being seventeen again.
There are days when I don’t wish to be a woman. There are days when I wish that nobody expects me to be the epitome of sacrifice. There are days where I wish I don’t get judged for not giving enough of myself. There are days where I wish to be unabashedly myself. There are days where I hope, not to feel guilty about something I couldn’t be. There are days where I wish to be selflessly loved by someone even if I am empty to give anything in return. There are days when I feel so much happiness bubbling inside me, and I wish for a hand to hold me when I drink it all. There are days when I want to be badass and flip people and their unfounded thoughts over my shoulder. There are days where I want to be nothing at all. And there are days when I want it all, every corner of it. So let me, be me. Nothing else, Nothing else, at all.
Happy Women’s Day dearies ❤ . I wish we all let each other be ourselves, especially if you are a woman then try a bit harder to be gentle and caring towards your tribe. If you can’t pull them up, then please don’t pull them down. Just let everyone be themselves 🙂 .
“Love is one of the most beautiful feelings in the world. To love someone so much that your existence becomes a blur and everything revolves around that one name is a blessing. “
From last one month, I was watching a lot of romantic movies and drama series on Netflix. I avoided Netflix for so long, but then I decided to give it a try and ended up watching a whole lot of stuff that I never intended to watch. So after a month of a free subscription, I finally decided to disentangle myself from the Netflix world.
So this post is about my best watch out of the lot that I ended up seeing during last month.
A Love So Beautiful is a Chinese youth drama based on novel To Our Pure Little Beauty by Zhao Qianqian, which I read after watching the series. It starts with high school classmates Chen Xiao Xi and Jiang Chen who are also neighbors, where Chen Xiao Xi has a crush on Jiang Chen, but he is indifferent towards her. The story unfolds various aspects of teenage, friendship and growth of a person. I especially loved the graph of leading lady’s character. I am still not over this show especially the title song. The beauty of the show lies in the innocence of teenage love. It reminds you of your first adolescent crush and how beautiful it is to like someone in that way. I have huge girl crush on Shen Yue, the girl playing the protagonist. She has embodied the feeling and innocence of 16 years old so beautifully that your heart melts seeing her in every scene.
A must watch if you love romance with a hint of innocence and purity in it.
PS : Sharing the title song with you guys 🙂 The show is also available on YouTube also with English Subtitles here.
If you have already watched this beautiful web series 🙂 then lets discuss it in comment section 🙂