Category Archives: Human Nature

Just a thought!

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Just a thought that keeps bouncing on my head when people badger me with constantly saying that I do need to “Grow up”!!

#Keepthechildaliveinyou!

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Fumbling Valiance!

Has it ever happened?

That you feel trapped?

You consider yourself quite brave,

But in all honesty, you are scared.

You thought that you forgot that feeling.

With so much constantly happening.

But one fine day,

You find yourself to pray.

Your fingers are crossed,

And you find yourself so much engrossed.

Fumbling, fidgeting,

Anxious; petrified; feeling alarming.

Has it ever happened to you?

That something so important knocks the door,

That your knees go weak,

And valiance seems like yore.

 

Please, please just let me be…

Please don’t come again.

I am good, if not at best, without you.

Please just go away.

Please, just let me be.

 

It was really difficult

To disentangle from your black chains,

It was claustrophobic

To always be in your embrace.

 

When you are around

I am not happy,

I am not myself,

I am someone I never want to be.

 

Even your shadows are too dark.

When you are around,

I can barely see straight,

It is all just a maddening gaze.

 

When you are around

Every single thing is black,

Every thing is not beautiful,

Every single thing is not acceptable.

 

Even the smallest thing disturbs me,

Every petty thing gets on me.

I cry and crib over every insignificant thing,

I try and trip over every attempt of smiling.

 

When you are around

My friends turn to enemies,

And I try to find solace in those frenemies,

Failing at the attempt of even breathing.

 

I just can’t see through anything.

My vision blurs

And it is difficult even breathing

I drown and drown absolutely giving in.

 

I have told you,

Please don’t come back

My vision blurs

And I see only black.

 

It is very difficult

To disentangle from your black embrace.

It is always choking

To be tied to your steely embrace.

 

Please, please don’t come back

I am good, if not at best without you.

Please just go away,

Please, please just let me be.

 

PS: Before anyone asks, this is not dedicated to anyone. So the ‘you’ in the above poem is not a person, if it can be called a poem at all.

I wish I hadn’t read that one book!

I wish I hadn’t read that one book,

For it was only a single dream that it took.

It was a simple childish fantasy,

But the novice me assumed it for some adult reality.

I wish I hadn’t read those 50 pages,

For I was living in the make belief cages.

Made for me, it was a nurturing cocoon,

But sadly, this was my childhoods only boon.

I wish I hadn’t believed in something, which was so tragic,

For I always thought that it was the truth named ‘Magic’,

Read to me it was, every single night,

And just so, I would wait every morning for my mighty knight.

I wish I hadn’t read about that Liz,

With stepmothers and dwarfs, and that magical kiss,

That romantic comedy, with elements of tragedy,

Which had nothing similar in consideration to my reality.

Understand life!

 

 

“Sometimes you just need to talk to a four year old and an eighty-four year old to understand life again.”

 

Any volunteers in throwing some insight on the thing called “life”? 😉

That Flower!

 

Remember Monica and how clean freak she was?

 

Yep, I am compared to her often. And I have to admit that I am pretty much the same. I will crib when I will see that I have to sleep on the wrong side of the bed, or when the coffee cup is kept on the table without a coaster, and things like that. Things, which no one bothers about.

 

But she also has that door. Remember, which no one knew for so long and when eventually it was opened; it had all kinds of garbage stuffed inside. Yep, I have that too. Well, it’s not a door, I have a big box full of old things, which my folks call unused, unwanted garbage. But I call it memories. Yes, I have stuff in there, which I will never use in my life, and yet I refuse to depart with them. Things from my nursery days, to yesterday! From crayons, to mementos from every place I have been to, memories with all kinds of people I love and care about!

 

So, come Diwali, my people will pester me to clear at least something away, and every year I pretend to clean something out, only I never throw anything out. I make space, I cram things, but I have not yet discarded anything, and nor do I have any such intentions for near future. So today, I sit and pretend just like every year, to clear things out, to clean my room. (The irony is, it’s already cleaned, but since it’s Diwali, I still have to do it!) So, I am utilizing my Sunday this way, and I run across some really old stuff!! This stuff I haven’t met in a few years now!

 

I open that box full of memories,

I take out everything, crayons, to paints, to some Barbie accessories, to slam books, to school photographs, to college memories..

There is a list, I will not bother you with.

A book comes out,

It’s a novel.

I don’t remember reading it.

The blurb brushes my memory.

Yeah, I have read it.

But it wasn’t my favorite.

It was a book read and forgotten!

Then why did I find it here?

I drank that old book smell!!

And as if it was magic, I knew why it was there!!

 

I smiled!

Blushing would have gone too far.

But I smiled, all the same.

And closed the book shut.

Not sure whether to go ahead and look at it.

I hold that book for a while, turning and twisting.

Trying to figure out my next move.

 

Oh what the hell, there’s no bomb inside.

 

I go ahead and open it.

I couldn’t find it.

My heart literally, literally skips a beat.

WHAT THE HELL!!

Where is it?

What did I do with it?

 

Didn’t you say you were going to throw it, anyway?

 

Yeah, but I said so, I didn’t do it.

Definitely not!!

 

So where is it?

 

I scan the pages frantically, and just when I am about to burst (I don’t know with what) I find it.

 

And there is a big smile on my face.

I don’t deserve that smile.

That smile isn’t anymore mine.

I don’t even want that smile back.

But I smile anyways.

And I close my eyes and get drunk

Drunk in that stale smell of books, and words,

Of love and feelings,

Of that naivety and all the firsts.

 

I brush away the tears,

Pretending to be sneezing amidst the dusts.

I sober up from my past,

And I smile anyway.

 

This is what I find there:

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I know you can’t even make out what this is!

But it’s special all the same.

 

Years have passed by,

People have come and gone,

Feelings have changed,

Oh, the people have changed,

I have changed,

But this still remains special.

 

I smell that old smell one last time,

Tuck it inside the book again,

And close it as delicately s possible.

I don’t want it to rust,

Not now, anyway.

And read a couplet, that I attached in the midst of the pages,

That last time, I had an encounter with this.

 

Vaqt beet te der nahi lagti,

Umra guzar gayi, kai saal beet gaye,

Par tujse mulaqaat kabhi fir hui nahi.

 

Aaj fir mila hai wo tera diya nazrana,

Jise ab tak sambhal k rakha hai,

Kuch murja sa gaya hai,

Par ab tak apna sa lagta hai.

 

Jazbaat, ehsaas, shayad badal gaye honge

Tere, aur shayad mere bhi.

Teri ibaadat ki umeed nahi, Sirf ek unkahi arzoo hai,

Isilye is murjaye gulaab ko bhi ab tak sambhal k rakha hai!

 

I smile,

I reread.

I close the book.

I pack the box.

And put it away.

I know not till when!

 

 

PS: I will hit publish before I change my mind about publishing the Hindi lines. I know it’s not great, it’s novice, and very childlike. But I presume that we all do these kind of stuff once in a while 😀

Breaking Apart!

Somehow, I do not agree with people who keep saying that you are strong, that you can do it, you must not break down, even when you see the person in a state where he sees nothing but darkness. Forgive me, but I just cannot bring myself to say that you have no right in breaking down.

I feel, that we all have the right to break apart sometimes, fall to the lowest of your levels, shatter into as many pieces as you want, for only when you are at your lowest, do you realise that there is nowhere else to go but, somewhere above it.

Breaking apart could be wrong, only and only when it becomes a habit. So,

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