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.
You’d be doomed if you told me that Bollywood and Cricket have never been connected. Some of the most passionate love stories come out when these two get together – and one such beautiful love story is of Virat Kohli, who is the captain of the Indian Cricket Team, and his ladylove Anushka Sharma. Continue reading “What Virat and Anushka taught everyone.”
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.
So, I give you my shoulder to cry on. I hug you real tight. And tell you that you’ll be fine. That I’ll be beside you and help you through this. I’ll be there for you. And while I’m doing that, out of nowhere, you take out a knife and stab me. I ignore it, and tell you to calm down. We can still fix it. And then you don’t listen, you stab me again. In the same place. And stab me again. And stab me again. And again. In the same fucking place. And there comes a point where it hurts so bad and I’m bleeding so bad that the blood from my stomach looks like a waterfall, and I’m still hugging you trying my best to calm you down, but then the hurt gets unbearable and I feel like I’m going to die. And then I think of Ann. And my family. And how they need me alive than dead. And for once in my life, I be selfish – only because some few very deserving people need me to be there for them – and I push you away.
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.
I don’t know where you are, but I pray that you’re doing okay. Below are some of the things I wish I had told you, but couldn’t. I hope this helps you. Even a little bit is okay. Read it. Understand it. Apply it. Take care. Your buddy. Continue reading “Life is like this!”
I remember how scared yet excited I was when I decided to promote the petition asking for a revision in the laws of PCA, 1960. I had just sent a few important mails to the local and national organisations which take care of animal rights.
I don’t know what triggered it. Maybe it was my deep understanding for animals, dogs especially, or the fire that was burning inside me when I saw a man take a puppy and throw her down the terrace for the sake of having some fun. In no way, and in no angle I found this justifiable. And I was right. It was a cruel act which forced us to question the humanity of us humans. It is extremely disturbing for me to even think, let alone believe, that a person can come across such a thought. In my head I was dead right this was wrong, and the only way to prevent this from happening was to spread awareness of this incident and give those two men the most severe punishment for doing this to an animal.
“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!