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.

 Image

Lego’s And Chocó’s – Motherhood with PCOD.

( This story is about a girl who was diagnosed with poly cystic ovarian disease (PCOD). She made her way through it and is now blessed with a son. 10% women fight this disease silently starting from teen age till 60. Spreading the message and acknowledging is the least men and woman can do, and those fighting it; ‘You can!’)

 

 

Unused fire places now replaced with electric heaters, pity, she thought. As she did, she stared at the perfectly carpeted floor with sprinkles of Chocó’s dropped by the 3-year-old that brightens her every morning with his dimples.

2 bedrooms were enough. Enough, for infinite love to reside, for growth to enhance, and to make a house, a home.

He coloured as a true artist would, he allotted one colour to every segment of his work. Action man’s and super heroes mostly.

“I’m hungry mama”; there he goes, his commandment for evening snacks, she smiled standing in the corner of her the hall. As she walked across the room, she wondered Chocó’s with cold milk or nutri-bar with Tropicana juice? He would point at either one.

Simplicity of food, thought, innocence and life.Lesser the choices, lesser the drama.

She watched him eat as he made way for a pile of Chocó’s in a large spoon into his still very tiny mouth.

“Chocó’s it is.”

The dim-lit room shines with his eyes and the monotony of the winter days fulfilled by his Lego’s. She looked at him, proud. Proud of his acts, his priceless beauty, his plum cheeks, mesmerizing eyes and subtle lips.

The fact, that he was growing every minute. That he was a part of her. It felt like just a day before that she had given birth to this little being, and today he was chewing on soggy Chocó’s.

The whole thing was magic to her; it fascinated her. She was, just happy.

She loved this, motherhood, womanhood. Life-hood? She wanted to take in everything life had to offer now that she was in the most beautiful city, Paris.

And with her, she wanted her little one to experience every bit of it too. To make him believe he was blessed, like she was. It’s wonderful isn’t it? Just having all of that you ever wanted?

She picked him up as he smiled through his father inherited dimples and bunny teeth. ‘Sleepy baby?’ she whispered to him seeing his eyes droop with sleep. He nodded.  ‘Just as I thought!’ There was something miraculous about being a mother, she knew everything!

She could smell the milk from his mouth, his baby powder, the slight hint of his father’s perfume. Being in the aura of that scent  was bliss for her.

She laid him in his blue coloured carriage and kissed him on his forehead.

7 p.m. she looked at the clock, she blushed.  6 years of marriage and yet, every day when he came back she would get butterflies in her stomach.

Perfect marriage?

She made her way downstairs; she could smell the fresh breeze as she wrapped her jacket tighter. ‘Lovely’.  She greeted the chef’s that made pizzas. Olives, tomatoes, chicken, the sauce, all put together for the perfect pizza.

As she walked, the baker she knew smiled at her through the large window of her shop. The baguette and croissants, in heart of Paris… What more could you want?

She walked in as the shop’s little bell tinkered.

“Bonjour mademoiselle”; the baker said with utmost joy.

“Bonjour madam”; She replied.

“Un, baguette?”(One baguette?)

“Oi” (sure/yes); said the baker handing her the crispiest baguette off the lot.

‘Mademoiselle’ (Used for an unmarried girl); I wonder why she calls me that even though she knows I’m a mother.

What she did not know was that her beautiful, fragile face hardly made her look old. She was simple, devoted, and innocent and filled with love. ‘Divine’.

‘5 months I’d guess.’ She said looking at a woman with a baby in her. Placing her hand on her own stomach, she was reminded of the struggles, the pain, and the lifelong medicines, all for one gift. The one gift she treasured, her only son.

She’d love to have another baby, a beautiful girl maybe, someone to play with her son, but she knew that would be a   dream.Having him was a miracle in its self.

She walked back, holding the paper covered baguette, she loved bread, but her diet restricted her. Sweets, soft drinks, rice all of it.

PCOD. The name had haunted her since she was 16.  Pills, embarrassment, comments, excess weight. Even her dating life had sucked.

She looked at the carriage; there he lay peaceful and asleep. She walked home happy and filled with gratitude for him and her son.

She lived each moment, surgeries and doctor’s appointment had taught her that. Her pregnancy was a complete risk, with PCOD, it’s hardly possible. She risked it and fought it because she wanted to give birth to someone as perfect as her husband.

As she made her way back, she saw her beloved. The one she loved, more than god. He stood by her day in and day out. Loved her unconditionally for her strengths and weaknesses.

Weakness.PCOD. The one she made her strength.

He smiled at her, ‘Ready with dinner?’ ‘Always’, she replied, looking at her husband, kissing ‘their’ son.

She loved the two men in her life;she loved PCOD for making her so strong.

P.S. This is a fictional story.Hope it becomes reality for the many fighting through.

 

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. 

 

Goodbye – A warfare of thoughts

The brilliant day set, as the sun slightly bent to say goodbye. It provided light, hope, energy and certain kind of happiness to them as they stood hand in hand. Awing at the moment, he looked into her eyes as dusk greeted them. It’s always been a precious time, for the lovers and loners.

As darkness begins to crawl upon faces, with only street lights whizzing across, the feeling of togetherness heightens.

She mentally captured the moment; she would have to live with it for quite awhile. She adored him, and he knew.  But when will she see him again? Only fate knew.

For her it was bliss, his arms comforted her, and she knew she was safe. His shoulder always welcomed her head, because it fitted so perfectly. ‘Meant to be’.  He stroked her face gently, he did that when he wanted just a little more of her, when he wanted to convince his heart that the beauty real and his, only his!  The thought overwhelmed him and delighted his soul, because he always knew her as his.

His phone rings “of course”; she thought. He made her happy, and everything was perfect, but you can’t ignore life’s facts and after so many years, she had eventually learnt that. A sudden feeling of sickness was rising in her chest and burning it, as her stomach hurt with jealousy. She wanted to pull away, because the thought of another girl being in those arms being stroked and kissed the way she was? Absolutely terrified her.

He must be telling her the same things! The thought disgusted her. There’s nothing she could do, she loved him and she wanted him, he did too. Somehow, he sensed the feeling, and pulled her closer. Then another thought occurred to her, she thought about the other men she’s been with. They’ve held her too, told similar things.

She was mentally cross with him, and two thoughts later she decided to forgive him. Crazy love, she thought.

She could feel his fingers on her waist, begging her not to leave. But she was so confused; she didn’t want to be carried away by his scent and his love even though her soul craved for her every minute he was away. She wanted to be independent but for him she wanted to bend down and let all go of all her sanity.

He ended the call, it was just a minute long and so much had changed. She smirked at her stupidity. Both their parents waited for them as they stood stealing a few hours from the years in which they got to be together. Life, alas!

He told her sweet perfect words that even her boyfriends had never told, things and dreams she imagined him saying, now he did. She held on to his shirt, just to make sure it was all real.

Only if they could just stand there, even though it was in the middle of the metro station. She looked up to him, seemed like years she had had a chance to look into his eyes. They were still looking at her with the same intensity of love, which surprised her.

They had to say goodbye, even though they both loathed it. For a few minutes, he told her things about keeping in touch, hopes of meeting again, about life, fate, dreams. All those things with which she lived,

Things that convinced her all this time, but at that moment she was numb and horrified. The thought of leaving him made her heart ache, all emotions just stuck together, cluttered and jumbled like apple earphones.  He told her he loved her. Did he?  Would she wait for him to return? For fate to bring them together despite everything?  The thought made her restless.

He bent down to gently touch her lips, but she was so numb she couldn’t respond. He whispered to her and pulled her closer, convinced her he would be back just for her. The thought amused her, as he kissed her slowly because he didn’t want her to be living with the fear of losing him.  Finally, she melted to the softness of his lips and hands and gave all of herself as they held on to each other kissing passionately.

Sorrow, pain, aching happiness, gratitude all of it rushed through at the same time. He kissed her forehead, but she knew she had to walk away. Even if that’s with slow dreading steps because if she stayed, she’d want him more.

Want him in every way…

Run to her, his mind shouted,

Turn back, her heart screamed.

Get back, just one more time!

None did, time was running. They parted ways, just like they did long ago.

I Found Paradise In the Crippled Utopian World- I found god.

Image The vastness of the blue bodies, randomly painted with colours of green and white here are there.  My planet seems perfect.  A Utopian world of god, paradise.

Now anger rules the innocent heart, she hates herself for who she’s become. For who she’s turned into. Anger blames people around her but is that really the cause…?

 

Where every word is care, every hand held is faith, every feeling is love! The place where the trees don’t bow in weakness, birds don’t lie on the ground dead, the clouds are not black and water’s not purple.

(Colours are good, if they belong in the right place.)

 

Lot’s of doctor’s appointments, tests and medications. They say, symptoms of this and that.  She’s deaf to the words now.  Lot’s of research on what could be, but even the internet doesn’t answer anything for free. Lost.  Scared. Shattered. Where  should she really be?

 

In that world there are no curses, no devils, no hell.   For tell me who defines good and bad, who really chooses right and wrong?  It’s all relativity.

Where love resides,  all is good. Where faith stands, all is well.  Where I live, is heaven.  That  utopian world, is my home.

 

She often wants to run from her in capabilities ,  for the lost  strength, for the fear gained. Her outer shell is too egoistic, too self centered , too small, and too naïve. She curses herself day and night.

Now, outgrown for her mother’s lap

Distant from her father’s embrace

Stuck.  In the middle of nothing but a gamble of discouraging thoughts.

 

Man can now fly in the air like a bird, swim under the ocean like a fish, he can burrow into the ground like a mole. Now if only he could walk the earth like a man, this would be paradise.”

She weeps, with everything she see’s. Hatred, remorse , guilt, for no one but herself. There are help lines for all kinds of abuse but self abuse is probably the worst form. One part of her curses herself  for all the failures and the other consoles her. HA!  Nature’s ways…she thinks.

That world would be great, that world would fulfill dreams, everyone would live, laugh , play.. At the end of the day it would be nature’s way and say. Cascades of waterfalls, , winds, trees, grace, love, friendship, beauty, grass, birds, clouds, sun, thoughts, everything just everything perfect! And most of all smiles, lot’s and lot’s of smiles.

On the verge of the end, she decided she just couldn’t and wouldn’t stand in front of the world and it’s people because she wasn’t beautiful, because she was unworthy and selfish.

Because jealousy had taken it’s toll. Convinced with the fact that her fairy tale was just an ugly mess, she took a bottle of morphine…

 

Rays of light streamed into the corner where she sat.

Someone held her, tears rolled down her cheeks. She looked up and she knew some part of her longed for him.

(Bible :Isaiah 43:1  “Fear not: for I have redeemed you, I have called you by your name; you are mine”.)

Staring into his divine eyes, she knew she had found herself.

Giving her the comfort of a father

The lap of her mother

The hand of a friend

The love of a lover

Jesus stood, holding his child.

He whispered, this is your fairy tale, this is paradise, this is it.

From that day on she knew, that she had found her paradise in this crippled Utopian World, She had found God.

( Bible :John 3:16 “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him  should not perish but have eternal life”)

 

Illogical Love That Never Seems To End.

A cold breeze passes by, showing its dominance on nature and me. Even my favorite red checkered polo shirt can’t seem to resist it. I’m strong I tell myself , this wind is pleasant I say and there you are standing so close to me and yet so far away as I my teeth chatter and feet swing  in restlessness.

You and you’re mocking smiles. I’m so cold and yet your smile sends rushes of heat through me.

What you think and what I imagine are so very different. I’m wishing you would hold me with those hands made to perfection, but you just hope I go inside and get some heat.

I’m so bold so independent, or so I think. I can beat up a person in seconds I believe, but in front of you?

I realize how tiny I am, how fragile and how careless.

The breeze blows harder, I curse it for making me so helpless and silently I thank it for he may give me his warmth.

So naïve, so illogical!

But he? So right, so logical, so true.  How foolish I feel in his presence. “In your dreams”; I whisper to myself, I know it’s not right. But that’s who I am with him.

As though a beggar asking for money, with gleams of hope shining through his eyes. I ask myself, “When did I become this?” That’s what he calls dependence, as I stare at his face.

The breeze, now suddenly a magical element of goodness brings with it chilly drops of drizzle along.

 Rain! I want to scream!

I know he’s smiling now, it always rains! It’s my best friend because it comes along and reminds us of the all the meetings we ever had.

Wishes, dreams, fantasy is my world. Reality, logic, thrill is his.

I want to dance and smile ,laugh and cry ! I want to feel rain wet my curls and spread its scent, hoping he’ll remember how much he cherished admiring them. How rain made him think of miracles of life,  he hardly believed in. How the scent of my perfume and hair made him happy, how I once made him smile..

Just then I feel his arms embrace me, always been my savior! Both know it is oh so wrong. So many mixed feelings jumble up in my mind and I can’t decide how within  seconds my perceptions have dramatically changed. How in a minute I can fall for him and never realize how my heart converts “This is not right” to “This is perfect”.

It isn’t.. He still stands straight and numb; I know a thousand thoughts cross his mind. I want to pull away.

The irony!

Now its summer, the wind still blows but it doesn’t send shivers down my spine instead disgusts me with its heat.

I wait, for you to come around again, so it’ll rain

Let’s see what’s in store for us this time.