You might not know your name, but you know your story.

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It’s back! The energy, the magic. It’s not perfect but it’s there. I can feel my hands finally escaping their fears and itching to write again. It feels wonderful!

This feeling, when your phone is how it should be, switched off. You are how you should be.

Calm. Yet, bubbling with energy! Sleepless.

Like every cell of my body is jumping, smiling, craving. Craving to be heard. Not in a painful way but in a very joyful, crazy way.Crazy! Yes, that’s who we all are. Now I am again!My blood rushes and pumps itself as I write these words. I’m here. I’m home.In my room where the walls are white, the furniture shapes and molds to the choice of my colours. White, blue. Peace and serenity fill the air.I feel calmness in my breathe, in my body.  It feels good.Not to be struggling to breath, with the fear that someone might harm you, touch you.Physically, emotionally.It feel good to be this way to just simply listen to yourself. Calmly and patiently.There is no good that can be killed by the bad. It’ll come back. If it’ true it always does( A lot like love)

I’m back to tell myself,My worth.That despite circumstances, comments and perceptions;I’m beautiful and you- reading this are too.

You might not know your name; but  only you know your story, so embrace yourself, cry, fall and break but pick yourself up smile, laugh and join the pieces back again!

xox

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The Peace I Choose.

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If you were to hear,

If you were to listen,

Only if you’d excuse yourself and give an ear;

To the birds chirping you’d hear them cry,

 about the sky,

They’ll tell you how they choke as they fly

how you ruined their home making yours.

How the clear blue sky is dusty black,

How the wars have ruined everybody.

 

We’ll build houses and villas,

We’ll go countries and cities,

To find an escape.

 

Escape from the monotony of life and the purposelessness of it all.

Will you bury the money with you when you’re gone?

Will your platinum card or vip treatment open the gates of heaven for you?

 

Let’s dream about a day,

A clear morning, the sun shines bright,

You wake up and pick up the morning newspaper.

You read about the beautiful girls that have been welcomed on earth,

and the ministers going to people and talking.

No guns, no fighting, no votes, no elections, no marketing.

Just talking.

Sweet words of love and a breeze of flowers swish past you,

 as you sit in the open yard of your house.

House, the one you can call home.

 

Your daughter walks to school, fearless.

They teach her to nurture and make life, a fruitful one.

Men in the society are just men, not monsters of molestation.

The grass is actually green, and not artificially planted.

 

 

In such a world,

Mother earth, rejoices and blesses.

There are no floods, no tsunamis.

Rain, not acidic.

Just rain, pure and fresh straight from heaven,

And It doesn’t drop down on streets,

But on the ground, on earth. ‘Bhoomi’

Where it belongs, where it nurtures and brings new life.

 

The day the cycle of life, comes back

The day we all are one.

The day there is no money, no currency, no exchanges

That day will be “peace”,

Quiet. Tranquillity. Stillness.

 

 

That very day mankind will learn humanity.

 

 

 

 

The talks of your beastly pain.

Drag, walk, jog, and sprint.

If the sun is hot, even if the dirt is a lot.

Even if the boils in your feet hurt too much, walk.

 

Feel the pain, the pain talks.

 

Go back in time, not too long ago.

You too were all alone!

There was the pillow then, there is the pillow now. 

Absorbing your tears and healing your broken heart,

Then and now.

Is she? There?

Will you promise?

Will you love me?

Those moments are forgotten,

camouflaged into time.

Now take me, to some place real.

 

Sugar coated sword of love,

 A package of sweetness.

Promises abound and dreams infinite;

Ah, the crazy dreams.

The hand won’t hold you anymore,

No shoulder will comfort your miseries.

It’s you, just you! You, your music, your work and yes, YOUR REALITY.

How it seems all so easy and how every song seems perfect.

In the end, it’s you, just you!

What will you remember?

Will you remember me?

Will you remember the things I said you?

Will you remember that I loved you?

Not now, then.

The sugar will be long gone,

Your pain won’t let you go

It will tell you! Shout at you!

“I’m right, she’s wrong!”

The dreams would then seem too immature,

The gifts given a complete waste.

All the kisses, only just another taste.

 

Where’s your love now?

Where are you now?

“This wasn’t us”

“You’ve changed”

“Things have changed”

The conversations will happen,

And they’ll continue.

Months and months.

Till you learn to give up,

On the same love you thought was “Forever”.

Where is your ‘forever’ now?

 

And then, you’ll think of all the things you left,

Incomplete and unaccomplished

 

The times you fought, the harsh words,

the inconsideration and her ego.

 How could you go so low?

Cry, cry for her now.

“Look for another person,

Someone better,

Someone real”

The friends would exclaim.

They must have been right.

I must have been wrong about her.

“Love is blind” they had told me.

‘She was never worth my time ‘

Images of her, form in your mind,

What happened to calling her beautiful?

What happened to the time you said you’ll stand by?

What about the promises and the castles in the air?

The pain will tell you that the once most beautiful face was just a mask.

That she was unreal and all this time she was ‘faking’

And suddenly, all the truths will be filled with doubt into and become lies.

Your pain will tell you what an ugly mess you got into and that all this time the only person who was your true friend was your cigarette

 

“You’re a man!” “Be a man!”

Wipe away the tears; they are for her to shed.

Pick up a cigarette, don’t be so low,

Girls like her will come and go.

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Smokes of Love From A Toxic Stick

ImageFrom the wrecked dirty window of her room she gazed at the slightly blackened building with spots of green. As though the grey clouds full of anger had left their marks on the once perfectly pretty structure.

She loved pondering, wondering. Stuff…

Smoke surrounded her, it had become a habit now, rather a part of her, just inhaling that toxic stick of pleasure.

“Maybe, I’m like the building. I was beautiful wasn’t I?”She asked the little gap of clean glass on her window that reflected her fragile face.

As she did, her eyes fixed upon the packet of Marlboro Gold. It reminded her of the cold winter night when she had first picked up that source of warmth ( the cigarette) . She was glad in a way, her shivering body did not need a man  and her red lipstick had found it’s place. Or so she thought.

A  creak from the door was left unheard. She wanted to be alone with some peace, she thought.

He traveled across the room buttoning his shirt as he walked up to her holding her waist from the back. He immediately  fitted his head on her cold shoulder and said, “Last night was amazing babe.” She smirked to herself and gradually tilted her head to acknowledge his compliment.

He turned her around and glided his hands across her arms, picking out the cigarette from between her fingers  and throwing it. He kissed her forehead and told her, “Don’t smoke?” She into his eyes like a homeless puppy. There was a mystery about her that  he could never solve.

He wanted to just hang there, in her closeness. He wanted to hold her, comfort her. But she, was ice. He wondered when she’d really open up to him. He stroked her cascade of hair, pulled her closer and kissed her. Every time he did, he wished to see the love he wanted to. The one he had seen in her pictures…

“Stop smoking? For me?”He said, she simply smiled. He knew she liked him, but for her  it wasn’t love.

She did not want to hurt him, she had even said that in her dreams.

She had fallen in love (or whatever that was) with too many people. Obsession maybe.

They all told her words of love, kisses, compliments, and yes, promises.

Promises of true love, of being mates for life. What was it after all?

She tried hard, every day, in and out, to recall one, just one relationship! That was true and lasting. If it’s true it ought to last right? Not in her case.

‘She forgot to give a chance,

got too lost in the egoistic dance.’

There he was waiting, in the same apartment. Yet she dreamed of a villa instead. She waited outside her window when he stood right there.

She lay her head on his chest as she heard his heartbeat when it occurred to her that she was lost in the smoky cloud of obsessions; and yes the building was like her. ‘Beautiful’. Alas, It was just her wrecked ‘dirty’ window that disillusioned her and made her lose her faith.

She smiled, dragged her head close to his cheek and silently thanked him. Somehow even in the silence he understood her acceptance and embraced her, this time forever.

‘Mine’, he thought. ‘So that’s what love is’, she smiled.

My Ten Year Old Angel

 

The more I believe in Angels

The more I see them all around me

In friends, family and acquaintances

It’s amazing how much goodness you can see

If only you believe.

I’d call her a little bomb . She’ll blow your mind with her comebacks and thrill you with her amazingly pure thoughts. A true balance.  Outspoken, brilliant, talented, adorable are just a few adjectives.  I’d love to call her a princess but for now she’s a tiny tom boy. Sometimes I see reflections of myself is her, the love for football and guy stuff, the dizziness towards shopping and girly things.Sister from another mother! Probably because we’ve been brought up around the same person!

Never the less,

She’s beautiful. Inside and out. Features of a beautiful woman peep through her face, and you can easily tell she’ll turn out to be a heart breaker of countless boys. A cascade of black hair which now are tied in a messy braid will soon come down styled to perfection. ( Honestly can’t wait to see her grow)

I first saw her when she was almost a baby. Even then she was capable of defeating anyone anywhere. Every time I speak to her it makes me think of the lord’s wonderful creations and perfections. How innocence can stick to true knowledge.

I may have many friends, but there’s always a special place for a few people.

What I love the most about her is the fact that every word comes right from the heart, because she’s still so pure and so innocent. The lord resides in each one of us, but in her he shines out.

 

She reminds me that  there’s still purity In the world, that beauty is precious and love is infinite.

 I thank him( god) for bringing  her in my life. And thank her for reminding me every day what gratitude feels like.

You’re a true angel.