For You and Me

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 πŸ™‚ .


A Morning Inside a Lift

Has it ever happened to you that you are in a very shitty mood and you witness something very amusing on your way, and all of a sudden there is a three sixty degrees change in your spirit? It did happen to me, this morning.
I am early office goer so by the time I leave home, my lift companions are mostly school going kids with their nagging and in a hurry, parents.
Why was I irate is a story for another blog post, meanwhile I will continue with the one, which changed the course of my day.

As soon as I opened my door, I saw an opened lift and my neighbor with her kid. She waited for me, I ran, and we smiled at each other, a customary way to say hello, when you don’t want to say it, aloud. I was zipping up my jacket when the lift stopped at the third floor, the three of us looked at each other, like who else. The door opened, there was a six or seven, year old girl standing, in her school uniform, calling her dad. She has her one feet inside the lift, the usual way, all Indians stop lift while waiting for someone. She gave us a sorry look, and we nodded at her. After a minute or so her father came running, and they both entered the lift. Her father first apologized to us, and then to his daughter. And the next minute the little girl started reprimanding her father for the delay.

With a very annoyed expression, she questioned him “What took you so long? “.
Her Dad( a bit ashamed) replied: I was wearing my shoes.”
Her quick reply “I take only a minute wearing mine, and you took ten minutes doing the same.”

The minute she said this everyone started smiling except her, it amused me to see a little woman controlling an adult. It took me back to my childhood, where I was that little girl with my dad. I had the habit of holding his hand while walking beside him till I turned seventeen and had to leave home for further studies. It was always my dad who used to drop me at my school bus stop. It brought the flashbacks of all those tantrums that I have thrown at him for all the unnecessary things which were once necessary to a little girl. I have dragged him to stationery shops the minute he entered the house because I had to be the kid who does all the things that a teacher demands. I had cried and blamed him for not letting me go on a school trip until he gave in, even when the cost of that trip was equivalent to my school fees for a month. He is still the only man in my life with whom I can fight irrationally over anything because I know his love for me is much more than his male ego.

Memories has that effect on me, especially the memories of my childhood, they make me laugh and chuckle at my naivety. A bond between a father and a daughter is a very unusual bond. A different kind of love that words can’t describe. So I share two of my favourite quotes on father daughter relationship.


I hope you guys too have a happy morning πŸ™‚ and a great day ahead πŸ˜€


#sunrise #hilltop #yourstruly #trees #nature #naturephotography

Auburn lit sky around,
An eternal silence from mankind,
momentarily broken,
by the rustling of the leaves.
Leaves with shades of,
green, yellow and brown,
perching on the tree.
From afar,
a pair of eyes,
watch everything.
Everything that has changed,
my Ame.
Everything that has remained the same,
in my Ame.
Looking into the shadows of the past,
where I was naive,
to the looming life.
My laughter rings in my ear,
and slowly reaches,
towards my eyes,
making them glow,
with the hope,
that all,
is not lost, yet.
Filling me, with a desire,
to grasp the grains,
of my dreams.
A wish,
to find my lost parts,
in the wilderness of nature,
where I fully comprehend,
my Ame.

β€œToska – noun /ˈtō-skΙ™/ – Russian word roughly translated as sadness, melancholia, lugubriousness.

“No single word in English renders all the shades of toska. At its deepest and most painful, it is a sensation of great spiritual anguish, often without any specific cause. At less morbid levels it is a dull ache of the soul, a longing with nothing to long for, a sick pining, a vague restlessness, mental throes, yearning. In particular cases it may be the desire for somebody of something specific, nostalgia, love-sickness. At the lowest level it grades into ennui, boredom. ― Vladimir Nabokov

β€œToska is a feeling of inner emptiness, a meaningless of everything around you, the feeling of being lost, physically and spiritually, in both space and time.” — Alexey Kostromin (photographer)

I wish that this Valentine’s we learn the art of loving ourselves a bit more than loving others ❀ Self Love is the most important form of love ❀

The Bench

#thebench #yourtruly #lakeside #memories #nostalgia

You and me,
sitting at the two edges,
of a wooden bench.
Nervous, hesitant,
still very happy.
Glancing sideways,
I catch your gaze.
I blush, and you smile.
A smile of victory,
on your face.
You slowly slide,
towards me,
closing the gap,
between us.
There are no words,
only silence,
yet we hear each other.
You let your finger slip,
into mine,
we look towards,
the setting sun
by the lakeside,
hoping for a forever.

Years later I sit,
on this bench,
my back to the lake view,
Thinking of you.
So what, if our future,
never met,
our thoughts did,
maybe one day,
our horizons, will too.

The idea of this poetry came when I was listening to this song from “The Fault In Our Stars” by Ed Sheeran.

Then searched my google drive for the the above image which I clicked a month back by the lakeside.

Do stories come to you while browsing through images or listening to songs? Whats your process like? Do share in comments below πŸ™‚