When Silence Speaks...

Started my day with fire in my heart, ending with some meditation. I was very angry this morning. Like very very angry. People who know me might say, yeah what's so special about that, you are mad pretty much always. But no, not that kind of mad. The real anger and frustration, the real disappointment. I am weird, the biggest problem or disaster in life can hardly budge me. I don't panic, I don't get flustered, I handle it just fine.  But there are these little, really petty and not so important incidents that pushes my buttons. I thought I had changed, but I have realized it's more than that. There's this weird sense of right and wrong in my head. And that tied with my passion in everything I do, world just never ceases to impact me. So like always, feedback was, I need to meditate. But does meditation make one immune to the surrounding? If there's something wrong, and if it doesn't make your heart wrench, then I don't think we are alive. The day I cann...

I heard a small crack. Something had snapped. I felt a piercing pain. I fell. Picked up by the mild breeze, I flew. Detached from the tree that I had known all my life, I floated. It happened so fast that I dint know how to feel. I felt anxious for being out there in the unknown alone. But I also felt free and exhilarated to see the world beyond my imagination. Was this end of my life? Or a beginning of something I never knew existed? Is this what heaven feels like?  I had glistened with dew in the cold mornings, rustled in mild summer evenings and drenched in the stormy nights, all my life. I had clinged to my branch, and the tree had held me tight. I was happy. But if that was happiness, then what was this feeling? I flew past the waterfall, the mild rumbling of which I had heard all my life, not knowing where it was coming from. The woods, the trees, those flowers, the azure sky, the river.....in just these few seconds I have seen so much. I loved it. I land on a wooden bench, s...

वक़्त से पूछा मैंने,  "इतनी जल्दी में कहाँ निकले?" वक़्त पलट कर बोला "ज़िन्दगी ने इशारा किया है, बस उसी से कदम मिलाने भागे जा रहा हूँ |" तो मैंने सोचा, चलो ज़िन्दगी से ही पूछ लेते है, कि आखिर किस बात की इतनी जल्दी मची है |  ज़िन्दगी चलते हुए बोली "भई, मुझे ना कोई जल्दी|  सब किस्मत का खेल है,  उसी के कहने पे तो इशारा किया है मैंने" जब किस्मत से जाकर पुछा  कि आखिर माज़रा क्या है, वो आराम से मुस्कुराते हुए बोली, "कहाँ जल्दी करी मैंने,  वक़्त तो खूब सारा था तुम्हारे पास |  बस ज़िन्दगी ने कभी एहसास नहीं होने दिया तुम्हे , कि वक़्त निकलता जा रहा है हाथ से तुम्हारे । इसलिए जब भी तुमने पलकें उठाके देखा, वक़्त और ज़िन्दगी को भागते हुए पाया |   और तुम शिकायत करते रहे दुनिया से   कि ये सब मेरा ही दोष है!  चलो, एक इलज़ाम और सही |    आखिर सब मेरा ही तो खेल है, क्यूँ ? है ना?" ये केहकर वो लेहराते हुए चल दी |  - सरिता 

I walk the dark alley, Alone. When I hear a wild laughter. I look over my shoulder. I pull out my weapon. But I find no one. Where was it hiding? I walk a few more steps. And hear the hideous laughter. Again. I look around and see no one. Again. I keep walking anxiously. But wait, That laughter walks with me. Wait, That's the demon inside my head. How do I fight me? How do I kill that's mine? Oh these demons. What will the world say? Of my hidden demons? This world is not for them. They should stay hidden. This world is not for me. We need to leave. To a parallel universe maybe, Where I can fight'em. Where I will be free of'em. It's not these demons, That killed me. It's the way of your world, That failed me. That made me fight a battle, Alone. A battle, Without any armour or weapons. With no soldiers or comrades. Against darkest of the enemies, I stood there,  Alone. Defenseless. No doubt the demons won.  For you were not with me. And I lay slayed, Alone.

How does living become so difficult and death so easy?  Is our so called society incapable of an emotional support system to save a single life?  I can understand, at times given the situation, it's hard for a lot of people to handle things alone. It's for these times specifically that we surround ourselves with friends and families. I find it hard to believe that a person doesn't have a single confidant in his life, if not hundreds, to support him or her during these times. Is our society truly that shallow? The concept of shrinks is next level, to get professional help. But the first step always starts with someone close to you. Are we truly so insensitive, that we have become unapproachable, and we don't even know it? I think it's time you asked your friends, family or people whom you regard close to you, that do they trust you enough, to share something deep and dark that might mess their life? And it's okay if you are not their go to person, as long as they...

Alaska has many reasons to be my favorite, the ultimate wilderness. But here's a pic from Alaska that reminds me of Supertramp. Remember his big game?  Into the wild.  I had read the book a while back, but watched the movie last week on Netflix, kind of got me thinking all over again. It's beautiful yet melancholy  version of how he stripped himself away from the clutches of the society. The way he went from McCandless to Supertramp and during his last days with a quote of "call by it's true name" he goes from Supertramp back to McCandless, is quite an emotional journey. It's one thing to destroy your world and breakaway, but another when you want to return back into that shattered destroyed world.  Not trying to justify the actions of his family, that moulded Chris into Alexander; but they had a painful and emotional journey too. The worst thing that can happen to anyone is not knowing what happened to their loved ones - are they Alive? Dead? Injured? Happy?....

I can see him walking through the gate, carrying a smile like he cares for nothing in this world. Those brown eyes that can see through anyone’s soul. The light breeze playing with his silky hair leaving a few strands hanging on his forehead. His tall structure gliding flawlessly towards me. The evening is perfect, with right amount of golden rays brightening his face. The scarlet sky giving perfect backdrop. Everything seemed right, just right for the first time in my life. I can hear everything around me go silent while only my heart beats echoed in my ears.  When they talk about racing heart, they are not making it up. I could feel the lightness in me, like I was floating with butterflies in my stomach. All these fancy stuffs people talk about in novels and movies, they all seemed real.  That time of uncertainty where only you know you are in love and can feel or hope that the other person is also in love with you; but neither of you have confessed your feelin...

“Was it worth it?” she asked taking her headphones off, as she saw him flip the newspaper page.  “Hmm. Depends on what price tag you put on it.” he said straightening his reading glasses  without looking up . "Well, you know what I mean." she said slightly irritated. "It's all perspective pumpkin, it's all perspective.” He said continuing to read the economics section of the paper. “Meaning?” she asked still keeping her gaze fixed at him. He took a deep breath looking at her and said "Never look at these things in pieces sweetheart. Take ten steps back and look at the broader picture - a little bit of past, the whole of present and a lot of future. Then you will truly be able to say if you paid for something or if you invested in something." winking at her he continued in a taunting tone "You know what I mean" "Hmm. You won't give away that easily right." She said shaking her head and said "Anyway, ...

“Is this your story?” She asked placing the manuscript on the coffee table and lighting her cigarette. “Does it matter?” He said looking out of the patio, sipping his whiskey. “Maybe. Maybe not. Question is, why are you afraid of confessing the truth?” She said with a mocking smile. “You have always been one nasty little bitch.” he said taking the cigarette from her and smoking a puff. “Yup when it comes to you, I am. Don’t change the topic.” “Oh come on.” He said grunting and shifting in his chair. “So, it is your story then.” She said taking the cigarette back. “Don’t you know by now, that we writers are scavengers. We feed off of our emotions and others alike. Every story we write has a glimpse of our soul.” he said making dramatic gestures. “No no no no, don’t give me your writer’s BS. What if she reads it?” She said shaking her head. “Hmmm” he hummed staring at the sunset on the highway. His apartment was on 22nd floor, with the view of freewa...

There are days when I am in void.  I try to write something, but hardly can get a sentence completed. My mind doesn't want to think. I see bright sunshine outside and I know there's a beautiful trail somewhere that I can hit. But my body doesn't want to move. I force myself to read a book, but can't get myself to flip a page.  I pickup the guitar thinking of learning a new chord, but put it back even before I can finish tuning. I open the box of my hobbies, thinking of sketching, painting but barely can draw a line. I think of friends, see them on WhatsApp or Insta, but I don't feel like talking to anyone. I get on the floor and start doing push-ups, but within a few reps I am lying on my back staring at the ceiling, not wanting to move a muscle. I try to think of mountains, of oceans, of all the beautiful places I have travelled or want to travel, but I cannot focus, it seems like a cocktail of thoughts that makes no sense, so I st...

The famous White cliffs of Dover and the Dover castle over the English channel. All in one picture. I remember that weekend in Dover to be bright, sunny and beautiful. And it is also a beautiful memory for me because I wasn't just with a group of friends, but I was with my then boyfriend, who had planned to spend his birthday in London. So it was a pleasant, romantic, fun filled weekend, and I remember every moment of it filled with so much excitement and happiness.  I am a different person today than what I was in Dover 12 years back, life does that you. You gather a lot of experiences over time and become what they call - mature and wise. But I keep my memories of London very close to my heart, because they remind me of that innocent girl who was completely oblivious to psychology of humans. Not that I have learnt my lessons now, am still ignorant of how people work. For once I can guess how God operates, but not people, for me they work in mysterious ways. ...

No matter how far he sailed, he knew he had to return to the world - a world different from his, but the one where a part of his soul lived. He would sail for countless nights, watching nothing but endless stretch of water with no horizon. He wasn't scared of getting hit by a storm or drowning in the vastness of the ocean. This was his home, he felt at ease in the water. But he always feared losing his way back to where he came from. He dreaded the thought of not being able to find the path to his home if and when he wished to return. That thought made him anxious. He loved ocean but he did not like the feeling of being stuck there when his heart yearned to be on the land. He wished for something that could guide him home. He had the stars to show the direction but he dint have a destination, something that would make him stop. Now, he had that something, that warded off the only nightmare of his life. He now knew, that sooner or later he will make it home, safe. F...