Reflections

Amidst all the cheering and jeering I stand with my back to all those people I can hear them and yet I turn a deaf ear to them Because in this moment, nothing matters It is just me and my thoughts And these thoughts overpower me Like waves overpower a sinking ship There was a ship I once saw It was blue and red and a little green It kept moving ahead with a hole at the bottom The captain kept rowing and rowing And the others kept emptying the ship of the water He was almost in a frenzy to reach the horizon And he did not seem to care about the setting sun In the same sea a little further from the ship I saw two fishes, they were blue and red and a little green They were chasing the yellow light in the sea That bright light lit the sea as if it was on fire They kept swimming and jumping and running With each step ahead they lost the soft beautiful fins And yet they kept swimming towards the horizon Not knowing that the sun was really setting ...

I wish I was sixteen again I would still believe in love The sweet nothings whispered to me would still seem true And promises of living together forever could still be kept I wish I was sixteen again I would still have it all figured out Love wouldn't be so confusing And people not so demanding I wish I was sixteen again I would still like emotions Little things would still make me happy And giving to others would come naturally I wish I was sixteen again I would still not know hurt Every new person would be a new friend And sharing my fears would come easy I wish I was sixteen again I would still know what I want Life would still be about opportunities instead of choices And knowing what I want would be enough for me to have it I wish I was sixteen again I could still wait for myself to grow up

“I’ll spread my wings and I’ll learn how to fly. I’ll do what it takes, till I touch the sky.” I am not used to ranting anymore. Words that came quite easily to me earlier don’t anymore. For a long time, I have been trying to write. Something. Anything. This is what I came up with. Far From Home When I look inside the navy cloak, I see the scared eyes, Searching for something to hold on to. And the smile waiting to break into a grin. Proclaiming the arrival of a new beginning. I hear the innumerable songs of flight, Of love, friendship and success; Sung with girlfriends during the nights. The hands that were held so tightly, As the feet walked uphill: Bruised by stepping on stones, That perhaps slowed their speed, But never made them retreat. I can feel the warm embraces Through words, thoughts and gestures, That made the journey worthwhile. The reflection in the ocean, That which is scared and ecstatic, Smiles as I remove the cloak a...

So it’s been quite sometime since I de activated my Facebook account. Well yes, it’s not a big deal. Thousands of people each day do that and I have perhaps just joined the bandwagon of the “oh so anti-social” people. But is not having a virtual presence really that anti social? Actually, not having a Facebook presence really that anti social? Are the ones who deactivate their Facebook accounts really like those movies that the audience forgets once they stop being aired on the television very often? Is the only way one can feel “social”; by posting one liners ranging from “I just woke up” to maybe “I just died”? Why the urge to open your account every 5 hours to see how many people liked your recent photo? Why the inclination to blow sirens over your “love” for your sweetheart? Why the ‘oh so intellectual” task of growing virtual plants? Barring the last things, I have done it all and that’s precisely why I am wondering about the “Why” of it all! Are these things something we a...

A little introspection and a lot of observation led me to finding a certain behavioral pattern followed by quite a large number of females around me! It might be pure co-incidence that I seem to come across so many of them so often or as they say, “Birds of a feather flock together.” Nevertheless, I figured that these observations will make for a good piece of writing for the “behavior enthusiasts” on this planet! For those who have read “The MIC Syndrome” posted by me a few months earlier, this might seem as a sequel to it. And for those who haven’t read it, well, no harm in spending a few extra minutes reading that one! So the females that I am going to elaborate upon are those belonging to the OCD class, short for Obsessive, Confused, Dependent females class. There aren’t no physical attributes specific to any of them that allow you to spot them from a distance. Yes, but they’re all pretty and they all exude this aura that pulls you towards them and before you know it, you a...

She sits in the corner of the room And watches me from there, With her arms clasped around her folded knees And her hair tightly tied up in a bun Her eyes devoid of any emotion And her face nauseatingly pale. Her lips never move Only sometimes they curl, To form the crooked devilish smile. And yet her eyes have the same hollowness, The same characteristic emptiness, In the depth of which you could fall, And never return how hard you try. You try too hard to come out, Because you don’t want to stay there, Those eyes remind you of the past, Of the mistakes you made, Of those you could have avoided, Of the people loved, Of the people lost, Of decisions made, Of those that were made for you. I know she is looking at me, Waiting for me to look back, And acknowledge her presence, The presence that I feel every moment of the day, And yet never acknowledge, I run away from it, Run to the nature’s embrace, To waters so deep and pure...

“Sometimes, I wish going through life was as easy as reading a book. You moved from one chapter of your life to the other by just a flip of the page and were welcomed by a bold, italicized heading proclaiming “New Chapter”.’ Aanya yawned at this last thought of the day as she went to bed after trying to call her (ex) boyfriend for hours in vain. Like everything else she was not sure about why she wanted to talk. No particular reason, as usual. You don’t need a reason to talk to your “friends”, do you? And that’s what they were now, friends. It isn’t supposed to bother her that he did not answer her call, or that he was almost never there when she really needed a friend, even though that evening he had told her with eyes filled with tears that he would “always be there” for her “whether she wanted it or not”. And now that she wanted the presence of just someone who would listen to her, he was not there. Oh, but then she has other friends, oth...

Today, with deep admiration for myself and a few others who helped me in my discovery, I present before my readers a not-so-new genre of males: The MIC males, short for The Messed up, In Denial, Crying males! At the risk of sounding sexist and fearing unwelcomed remarks, the usual disclaimer is as follows: The category of humans being described here is just from personal experience or/and experiences of others that I happen to witness quite closely and observed acutely. Before really describing this genre, it makes sense to tell you their importance in the world. Well, to say the least, they help in bringing variety to our otherwise boring lives! If you are finally tired of staring at the ceiling of your house, it’s time for you to go out there looking for these men! Where will you find them? Now that’s a tricky one! Generally, their physical characteristics can be quite deceptive and they do not hang out in clusters like the geese. You really have to be lucky enough to be able ...

A flash of Golden light, That woke me up from the slumber of the previous night: The yielding touch of white fluffy cotton pillows, The sun shining bright with a tinge of red, The mellow sounds of water flowing from the tap, And the morning breeze whispering in my ears, An arm slung over the waist as if protecting, Fatigued body unwilling to stand, A million fast cars, And the careful knock at the door. Faint orange memories of beautiful lands visited, The leaves cracking beneath the feet, The familiar sounds of the evening chirps of birds, And the spotted brown barks of the trees, A hand held with the firmness of belief, Tireless feet walking towards no particular destination, A million scornful eyes, And the pink laughter of children playing around. The violet night blanket, The bright glittering street lights, The ocher sand tickling the feet as it washes away, An arm wrapped around with a caressing touch, An uphill walk in the blue pajamas, A million laughing lips, And the green s...

No, it does not. Danny Boyle’s movie “The Beach” starring Leonardo Di Caprio (from which the caption has been taken) makes for a nice late night watch. Now this piece of writing is not exactly a movie review. I am not giving you the background or the storyline of the movie. I am just going to share a string of thoughts that was set to motion by the caption of this article. These thoughts (like most of the others) are not necessarily related to the title, but revolve somewhere close to it. You never fall helplessly in love with someone. Never. Love is a choice. A conscious, thought out choice that you make weighing out the pros and cons of making the choice. Even Love at First Sight is a choice, however impulsive it may be! You choose to love a person. You choose to overlook the differences that they have (or in some cases, choose to change them) You choose to share your life with them. You make this choice of loving them and during the course of your life, try to figure out if you m...

It is not the same feeling tonight. No, it is not the same happiness that I feel in my solitude shared with that girl who comes on her terrace for a walk every night. Tonight there is a feeling of eager anticipation; of her arrival. She should be here any moment, and then it would be the same. The same joy that comes from knowing you have a confident who shares the same secret as you. That is how it is every night. She walks up to her terrace – her stage lit by the silver beams. She is always performing. Sometimes she dances to the mellow tunes of the few songs that she loves to hear. Her movements are not those of a trained dancer. No, she is not a dancer. She just moves to the music, celebrating each tune, each word of the lyrics. There is no lamentation, only celebration in her movements. Sometimes, she just walks to and fro the length of the terrace, deep in thoughts. Those thoughts they reach me in clear words, as if they are directed only towards me. Those juvenile plans of sav...

A very recent visit to the various shopping Markets in Delhi triggered quite an unusual line of thoughts, which I shall present before you now! If the caption wasn’t explained well by the previous sentence, let me tell you. “We” here, refers to the breed of people called women/girls (and all the others who belong to the genre called Female) Rest of the caption, am sure makes sense now! No, I will not try to answer why women love to shop? Or What women love to shop? I shall “enlighten” you with the phases that occur when women do the “thing” they love- Shop! Phase 1 : The “Nah! Not-so-Good” Phase This is the very first phase, which begins right from the first shop they barge into and although carries on till the last shop, it is most active till they cover one-fourth of the market. General Characteristics - One after another clothes/accessories/foot wears are picked up from the shelves and are piled on to the display table, the same sentence is ranted out while looking at each of them ...