It is the tale of the time
when our love was new and our egos were small,
When my heart would beat and next your name appeared on the screen
When on issueless strifes,
we would not mind spending sleepless nights
When my heart would sink on your week long absence.
And today we are here, not sure either our names are in any of the drawers of the heart or not.
Digging out the pasts and wondering either we were or not?
What a paradox of time;
we now are,
but we never were!
The swamp.
That with each taken breath was getting
blacker and danker and darker.
Her hopes mixed with miry water became
saline and murky and unsavoury.
Her eyes brimmed, looking for someone familiar . Her mouth gasping, tasting her last words.
A sudden warm touch.
A man with a face so beautiful that it made her heart
beat and melt and dream.
He handed his hand in her hand to free her off . Their fingers
locked and interlaced and warm.
His eyes. They were more captivating than his beaming face. No one can escape the lure with which they weave the stairs to the dreamland.
That dreamland that had
lush green
trees and brooks and breezes.
Treading on that land i came across the gateway to his heart that was clasped with
wires and chains and rust.
She tired herself out unlocking that door with all the strength she could muster. But the door had iron locks and his heart had iron will.
She returned tangled to her swamp-land which was her
Fate and home and destiny.
We have talked about all kinds of abuses but one that goes un observed and thus un recognized, is the ‘abuse of silence’ . We are a generation where we have suffered alot at the hands of communication gap and i guess we will ,for the years to come. Further aggravated this situation, is the boon of social networking where we think by posting and hash tagging we have dished our hearts out and every one has savoured whats in our heart. But the the truth is Our Silences have become heavier than before , we are craving to be understood by people who love us or at least by the total strangers. Inability to be understood is directly related to our lack of connectedness and communication. We are afraid of saying what are silences are shouting. Or maybe we are too afraid of listening to those silences. As a result they die an un natural death and lurk in the air and are causing global warming. I know it sounds ludicrously unscientific but where else should the heat and fire of our unsaid words and larger-than-life emotions should go? We have to pay ,our planet has to pay for the polluting the sacred silences which are supposed to be cherished and sanctified instead of being antagonized and polluted.
Communicate!
Unfortunately we all are the victims or we all might be the naive abusers ,in either case we all need saving. Spot the abuse and save yourself and do earth a little favour.
We are really a generation without emotions. Many a times these emotions are curbed to a level of non existence. We are told of ‘larger than life’ love in dramas, novels and movies but we can’t see that love around us. So uninformed we are when it comes to experiencing such a terrific force nurturing within human soul. Instead of explaining that ,we have become so good at mixing things. We mingle love with lust, selfishness, immaturity, crudity, madness. Along with real life love stories, we should have been told about real life heartbreaks. We should have been told it is something which will be healed. We should have been said to savor it ,for it is the only magical component found in the human soul. We should have been told it’s the only element which connects soul and the body. The only constituent because of which you are experiencing the Now. The now which you might not feel in decades. The glory in breaking of heart is equally celestial like that of the love itself . We should learn to cherish that.
Back long ago when i was very young i heard this saying” if all the tress become pen and and all the oceans become ink, you can not praise God enough “
And honestly speaking i used to count on my finger tips all the things that i could praise God for and that was for sure
” countable”.
But today i realise no body would have given a thought to explain things to kids in a right way back then. Especially when it comes to religious sayings nobody ever dare to temper them a bit and i dare not to ask them?
If i ask them now ,what do you mean by praising God? The answer is pray as much as you can, recite Quran as many times as possible (and that could be without translation even).
But nobody told me to know enormity of the sea of knowledge, nobody told me to venture into various subjects to measure the vastness of God’s existence. Nobody told me to listen to the tunes of musical instruments to hear the hidden notes of human hearts. Nobody encouraged me to question God’s existence, so i believed everything what they told about God. I praised Him for the things they praised Him for, i feared Him for the things they were afraid of and also asked forgiveness for the sins that they commited. And for a longer part of life was concerned about the hell that exists somewhere and did not bother about the hell of the cage that my mind was becoming.
It’s still hell today. But it’s a hell i choose to live in.
An artist’s soul has gypsy blood. It may resist its urge to step out of room for days but it becomes restless with the same soil beneath its feet. Soil of happiness. They are lured with the crackling sound of laughters, the belly hurting jokes told by nearby friendz group make them envious. But as soon as the happy melodies start making home in their hearts, their heads signal them the warning of some malignant intruders entering the territory. These gypsy souls long for displacements. Neither they settle permanently in the hearts nor on lands. The soil of familiarity contrasts fiercely with their painstaking unfamiliarity. Their dwellings are there where pain resides.These vagabonds and wanderers drift across lands and hearts with equal wildness. Wanderlust is so visible upon their hands and heads. You can see fumes in the shapes of rectangular books and square shaped paintings, dome like songs and heart shaped tunes.
They are naively reckless.
Sometimes only way to refute sweet lies is by confronting them with bitterest of truths.
Sheis a woman. She sacrifices. She is loving. She is the companion.
What if she decides , that sacrifice is a cliche, what if she made love a thing
disposed at will, what if rather walking beside you she choses a path that runs into walls.
She will still be a woman .
She will still be a human.
Love! It destroys
all, it cures all. And it depends upon your luck what happens first.
Its better to conclude the story in the mid, when you can foresee the incrdulity of
its end.
Hands of universe heal broken hearts the way it feeds empty stomachs.
Love was that blue elixir for her , that even if it didn’t exist, she would create
it with the tip of her pen.
The one way to pay back to universe is to do the good to someone that was being done to you.
Goodness of people around me makes me feel bad about my badness. Their lessons their
sermons,depreciate me from human to humanette.
Once lost , I am irretrievable.Either from memory or from memory cards.
Sometimes that’s enough to be grateful for when you don’t need anything to pray for or shop for.
We both were so compatible. With a will to knock each other down. Persistently
unpredictable. Me and life. Wild verses wild.
I fear the day when I’ll start thinking with my mind instead of my heart.
Only if we confess, the person we love is not always the person we need.
The girl that I know, with an untamed heart and an uncontained soul, how she
willfully let herself slid into the slippery arms of fate. It just bemuses me,
the lure of fate.
We all deserve, what we think we deserve.
See how infinitesimally grand this universe and its discourses are; and that’s strange how ludicrously small events like coming and leaving of people can let the
earth shake beneath our feet and make stars fall from the sky.
The avalanches. The volcanos. The ice bergs . They were created so that the word
magnanimous is born. Similarly pains, 3:00 ams and tears were created so that
human hearts could wake up to another day.
That’s amazing, that as we grow how masterfully we learn how to hide the way we loved, the way we were loved, we erase every trace of it from our eyes as well as from our conversations, how more we talk about everything that is not about love.
I was never interested in four-walled bound love, i want it to be emanated ,
resonated and echoed from every action, every word ,every silence,every smile
,even from goodbyes.
We all have that maniac in us, which can be so very sane at
times.
If you can’t be someone’s reason for happiness,and neither can let them be happy part of
your life’s chapter, the best thing you can do is part the ways. Find your
reasons for happiness and let them find theirs, life is too short to extract
happiness out of illusions.
·
Since so long my soul is just craving for itself, while my heart has become too free
to commit to anyone or anything.
Sometimes you want to keep someone’s memories in your heart and mind forever because, you want to live in someone else’s life forever , you fear karma. You don’t want to believe that there exist a fate where you will be forgotten. And you can bear
being unloved or being hated, but one can’t bear being forgotten. Its like
being sceptic about your own existence.
.
You make people moon , your star and the night sky, and then its dawn. You dust the
shimmer off your hands, and greet the blazing sunlight. That’s life’s way of
reminding, you are only left with one choice ; Moving on.
‘
One of the biggest demerits of growing up is , you start realising that love is not
EVERYTHING but just a tiny part of it.
I have always believed people who hate me, have known me more than the people who love me.
I feel death is a revenge taken from life.
Don’t lose your sanity for this insane love, cuz atlast you have to live logically to fit in this illogical world.
Sometimes people come in your life like a Band-Aid, when your wounds heal, its nature’s
way of saying its time to let them go.
Accept. Bow. Surrender.
There will be a day, when the fragrance of my words will be replaced by her perfumes;
the colours which you try to sort in my smile will fade in her vibrant wardrobe
collection, my voice will be no more than a pause in her enticing
conversations. Believe me baby everything will be okay. Life is all about
replacements.
With
Love Your Ex to be. ❤
'
I
believe in love which is seen, expressed,written or painted, since all the
havoc causesd in my life due to dreams , words and promises, I no longer
believe in abstractions that linger between reality and delusion.
Back then I was so naive that I used to think, tears are the only solution to the
problems which can't be solved, but now I have realised these droplets are
nothing more than salty water; its only your strength to smile,that assures,
you can get along with today.
You are loveable till you are gullible. Once you learn to not believe every word being
uttered, things are different .
Show people, how good are you, and they will show you how cruel is this world.
Walking past dreams we have to stumble upon reality at last .
The saddest part of the suffering is that you have to hide it. Cuz it looks
grotesque , even your own reflection in the mirror wants to disown it.
·
While you wait for a perfect happy life, don't forget to relish this moment which is
so perfect , the way it is meant to be.
Distance. Such a weightlessly futile and hollow word. But it has always saved people
from the mass destruction of all their hopes, dreams and expectations.
People will make you believe, you are difficult, impossible to live with. But as long
as you retain the urge to be good with yourself, you are doing well. Keep going
and take care.
Love
Few things become so unreachable that you shun their reality by naming it as dream.
Don't settle for anything less than love and freedom, for later gives you wings and former
gives you courage for flight.
Let's start it all over again, but this time we will begin with 'forgetting'.
Only mediocre stories end with a happy ending. Everything sublime has to be sad.
Sometimes the best thing to deal with pain is ignore it. Pretend as if it does not exist.
Act as if you have never heard of this word. And there you go.
A woman living a life of her own, herself become an art form. Chaotic,
controversial, mysterious.
When you will recover from your brokenness , you will realise you were not broken but
you were being constructed.
Woman are selfish, no matter if you promise her the whole world but she will go with
the man, who will give her his surname.
Sometimes
all it takes to turn a dream into a nightmare ' is a fall of a mask'. And
kaabhoom ..
If writers and artists will admit this to themselves that they are not normal,
they can finally live with peace then.
And she was not willing to share herself with anyone. The decision was not taken
but was written on her heartbeats.
Irony of our age, emotions getting stronger and relationships getting weaker.
–
Isn't that fearful that now I don't fear anything ?
When I will fall in love rightly, this universe will be re-written in gold ink.
I want someone who will help me grow mentally, spiritually, financially and
beautifully towards the age where I won't feel old with him. ❤
Carry your failures like the madels and badges on your chest, for they are the sole
witnesses of your success .
Its not that Iam afraid of darkness , I just like turning on all the lights of my
house .Its not that I have forgotten what happened to me all those past years
its just I don't want to remember .
It might take ages for me to heal my old wounds and while Iam healing
I don't want anyone to make me feel alright.
eThough you never asked me to stay, but even then now I have
to take your permission to go.
Such are the departures which are never really seen but just happen .
The worst part of real life is , first it makes you believe in 'fairy-tales' but
later it let you stop believing in the ' happy endings '.
The more older a religion is the more we become estranged from the divine or the spiritual power house. There is nothing meritorious in assuming our religion has nestled many centuries within it and is still as pure as it was the time when it made its foothold. Because it isn’t. And for instance it is, even then no glory in it because we are not contributing anything by following something so obsolete in an era which is as new as “now”. And if you think religion is contributing something to your being , then its time to rethink, for something abstract is least expected to make any significant change to something so concrete as human and universe. In that case our existence becomes so stagnant. It is not in line with the cosmic order . It contradicts with the never ending phenomenon of birth, growth,death and rebirth.
We think it is but then realize it isn’t. Yes its about the most beguiling human mystery which has been studied vigorously by philosophers and scientists alike. But still it remains a complexed phenomena underneath all human relationships. Yes you know right! Love. In this age of exposures and expressions we still find ourselves at the edge of defining, what it is and what it is not. Where it starts from and upto where it ends. Western literature being the dominant in the world has revered it like a pandora box’s most cherished treasure. Yet its the same West which is continuously re defining and re inventing it anew and astrange. Categorizing it into straight, lesbian ,gay, bi and many to come I guess. It is again the Western culture which has greatest ratio in having relationship complications and finally dissolved relationships cases. The Hollywood stars glamourizing their love life end up in disillusioned relationships and validating them unconsciously at the same time . When we come to East, love is quite a newly discovered specie or sometimes is labelled a Western or foreign concept in contradiction to reality or rather an Eastern reality. Young men and women falling in love :read alien conspiracy and finding themselves surrounded in so not so foreign environment where love had always been something which happened or is made at the day a couple gets married and result is they ended up being victim of disillusioned marriage . The love itself is lost in the game of earning and feeding in case of men and for women it is lost in the battle of making identity and relating to a well defined identity of a wife or mother. Afused between the disillusions of East and West ,love is becoming a further complicated feeling. Being a student of Western literature and living in an Eastern society I feel myself so alienated with this word that I fear , for coming generation, it will not be something pure and revered but something which humans have exploited for their own benefits and convenience at different times and places.
Rants of a marriage-aversor
The more I am trying to see good in a marriage in our society , which revolves mostly around pomp and extravagance more I am becoming repellant. The heavy gold sets worn by brides remind me of kayan tribe’s women wearing brass coils around their neck . The glitzy and glamorous dresses I think should be named the prickly wedding wears. The all laden bride sitting upon a stage seems nothing less than a decorated auctionable item. I know my comments sound quite feministic but what does all this wedding frenzy should be labelled as? The more we hear shoutouts to poverty and economic distress more we see the loose flow of money and gold around in weddings. I sometimes wonder is really the marriage in our societies is that esteemed and reverred phenomena? Does really every couple getting married step into an eternal euphoria of blissful and blithesome state. We need to give empowered women to our society ,who should know their worth is more than these overpriced articles and dowry materials. We need to give awareness regarding how valuable humans and their values are minus all the extravagant items they put on.
fariha950 