Taking a step back From our busy lives Sometimes I think, Looking at you, I find us beyond what I can see, You’re not you and I’m not me, There is no you, there is no me, Just that somebody, can you see? This is not that and that is not this, How crazy is this mindful bliss! Gone are those you and me, That somebody is all that we wanna be. Soon it’s not about how or why, Look up, smile oh a wonderful sky! Look below and feel grateful, You know you’re lucky, When you see that somebody. That’s not power, that’s not me. Can’t be you, not even in our we, Who would’ve known that it could be!
As soon as I stepped inside the mall, I felt it. I could sense it deep inside my bones. Something was wrong. I looked around only to find the usual mall visitors wandering around.
“Are you hungry?” asked Dad, while digging into his wallet. That was unusual. He has never done that before. He always carried sufficient cash or the required cards. I looked at him. He gave me a faint smile. That was unusual too. Dad hasn’t smiled like that since the last time I made him proud. A sudden wave of nervousness crept in.
Was it too much to ask? I look up to find a tall man confused – probably wondering if I was worth a shot or not. I wanted to convince him to give me the two pennies he’d been juggling in his palms. I wanted to polish his shoe, and tell him that I’ll earn it – that I won’t take his money for free. If none of the above managed to draw the coins towards me, I wanted to give him enough reasons. But all I could manage to do was look at him. Words were swallowed in the darkness of this mess I brought myself in. Tears were dried because the skin needed them more than the world. He looked at me, still having the same question mark on his face, and I smiled. Continue reading “From the eyes of Hopeless.”
It was late in the evening, and the sun had just started to set. Dusk opened its arms showering bitterness on the atmosphere of the city. The wind was chilly, and the lost souls roamed the streets with nowhere to go. The moon here had always come up just before the sun, but today was an exception. Call it coincidental, or pure symbolism, but for her, it was nothing short of a strong evidence that what she did was perfectly fine, at least, to her.
She sat in the Starbucks Café, sipping her coffee and staring out of the window. The blood stained knife lay next to her handbag, covered with her blue silk scarf. Her face was cold, and impassive.
“Are you waiting for someone, ma’am?” a young man asked her, pointing towards the empty chair in front of her.
She looked up to find a fair-skinned, young gentleman impatiently waiting for her reply. Before she could see his face, her eyes got fixed on his bracelet – it was a sight which forced her mind to never-ending flashbacks. The now placid face slowly tormented. She clung on to her scarf in such a way that it was next to impossible to find out what it had beneath it.
“Excuse me?” the young man interrupted her erratic thoughts.
The Haruhi Suzumiya series of Japanese light novels is written by Nagaru Tanigawa with accompanying illustrations drawn by Noizi Ito. The series centers on the eponymous high school girl Haruhi Suzumiya, her strange antics, and her friends in a club she forms called the SOS Brigade.
“Yes,” she gulped “actually, my husband Mathew, was supposed to show up, but since he will not be able to make it today, I don’t mind.”
He quickly pulled the chair, and sat down. Immediately, she kept her handbag behind the scarf in an effort to hide it from the stranger. She was somehow unable to determine the reason for his restlessness.
“The tragedy is not that the people do not love us but because we fall in love with those who are not able to love us.”
“WHAT???” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. The phone slipped from my hand. It fell down with a thud so loud that my heart skipped a beat. My eye sight blurred. The very thought of imagining her in that condition left me dead inside out.
Panicking was the only thing I could do – and did. I reached the spot in an impatient fifteen minutes. Those fifteen minutes were probably the most, the most, THE MOST longest fifteen minutes of my whole lifetime. Continue reading “Maps”
“Only the very weak-minded refuse to be influenced by literature and poetry.” ― Cassandra Clare
Sarcastically ironically probably, The things she thought she said magnificently, Scared scarred stared like a star, Cautiously carefully cured by her chocolate bar, Moved grooved huffed and puffed, Lovingly lover love was who she loved, Doubt crowd fear and tear, Things she said saying sayings that I hear, Ignoringly ignoring me like ignoring her ignore, Knowing the knowledge she knows, Winding wind winding around her skin as the wind blows, Twisting turning tumbling and tossing she gets me in the bed, She’s a troublesome troublemaker causing troubling trouble in my head, She’s a twisted turbulence! – Aekansh Dixit.
P.S: Just a random effort at writing something new. This blog was never meant for any poetry, but I felt like this is worth sharing, I guess. Hope you had a good read!
“When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, ‘I used everything you gave me.” ― Erma Bombeck I’m still alive. I cannot feel anything, but I can certainly hear everything. I have cancer. Brain tumour, to its severe stages. The people already consider me dead. No they haven’t informed my family. I can hear them talk and they seem to plan on telling them this afternoon as soon as they confirm my death.
I cannot move any part of my body, not even my eyes. My heart skips almost every alternate beat and is slowing down every second. I can feel no pain. The doctors closed my eyes to prevent extra pressure on the optic centre of my brain, which was close to the sight of infection, earlier.
I know I am going to die, but I still am alive. I try lifting my hand, but I’m scared. I heard the doctors tell my family that even the slightest pressure in this stage can cause permanent damage, and I will eventually die. I do not believe them. I command my hand to lift itself, but it’s impossible. One part of my brain, the ventral tegmental area, dies with that very thought of action. Continue reading “I’m alive!”
“Count your blessings. Once you realize how valuable you are and how much you have going for you, the smiles will return, the sun will break out, the music will play, and you will finally be able to move forward with the life that God intended for you with grace, strength, courage, and confidence.”
Did you ever feel like being a God? Do you know what it takes to be a God? Do you want to know how it actually feels when you are a God, and have the power to control everything? Do you want to be God? Well then, You be the God! Continue reading “You be the God.”