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“If you survive, you must remember that I love you”

Despite being in immense pain, the young mother still thought about her only child.   The depth of intimacy for her child was immense, unfathomed and ever so subtly conveyed that a mother's love is far greater  that anything in the universe. During the Japan Earthquake, the world sensed the strongest pull of humanity in a young mother who made shield of her body to protect her child amidst the disastrous collapsing. She left a note saying, “If you survive, you must remember that I Love you”. Her body was sputtering, rasping and pitch cold, but her ultimate sacrifice was the protective affection for her little one. It gets me thinking, of all the awful lot of drama, anxiety, anguish and contradictions for the several years. This small thought of appreciation is for you mother… my brilliant, remarkably independent, capable, fierce, gorgeous woman, whose greatest pride is in being my father's wife, and in being my mother. She is such a true character, in every sense of the w

The Phoenix

I find myself penning this post somewhat surprisingly. Maybe because the pain is bigger than ever, May be you just have to drown in it. Something that is unspeakably horrific. The hate that was all powering in its passion. The all-consuming love of lives, a love that seems to have even transcended death. The emotions enticing in its slow dance into midnight. It was getting dark, shady and mournful. But she no longer lamented over the dusk. She was different. She believed in even the possibility of a happy ending. She was strong. Hopeful. Of goodness. Of selfless love. Of a new dawn. She was the radiant smile of joy, one that could have illuminated the sun and the more. She was the Phoenix.

How long is forever ?

I think it’s not about crossing milestones always, it’s more about the journey. It’s about taking a long deep breath. Sitting down on a bench in a quiet park, bathe in the moment before moving on. Like I always feel I am rushed into something. Almost always. My inner self doesn’t reach me. It seems faint, far and a little distant. I am completely ruled by my apprehensions. Such amazingly strong feelings. Its close proximity.

Love demands chaos.

You know there is always this little scar inside all of us. You are sensible enough to realize it wouldn’t stop with that single scar, but still you crave to keep it. The tiny scar that ships your love. It isn’t weird that you would sound crazy about this. Like you only picture it when you think he should be the one who makes that one long divine kiss of yours true. How it feels to know you are in a crowd until he looks at you. How he moves you and never let you forget your curves, the way he touches you and kisses your fingertips. Alas to let every women in the universe know you are with him. And he is yours. I say it with such conviction because I have felt it, lived with the scar. And never in a billion of the past memories have I felt something like it. And I am way over thinking it. Do I deserve the pain? No. Would it break my heart? Yes. But I just got to do it. You ask me for a reason. There are not many. It is only because my heart chose you. And eventually it has to be you

Silhouettes of life.

The leftover bread pieces are seldom noticed, the way we stare down those little fragments in life. Maybe it’s time, which often is the obvious target of all loosened relations pulling the curtains. Draping the stage it creates a splendid sight, but tell me is that all? Can’t you best this spectacle with what’s hidden beneath? And those buried ones be the reminiscences. The glossy ones that went past with the closing of an eye lash, the puffed cheeks and the stained eyes that held the warmth of the gone by years. There is not much difference now, except for the fact that is the world that we live in now is all about expectations. And it was only lately that we got to know this. And ‘lately’ turned out to be pretty late as the curtains fell in haste. Had it been few months back, you could have spotted us in a corner reading a chick flick, poking each other’s nose, or munching our favourite delicacy hopeless and all alone in our dreamy world. Insanity was our signature, and we

Yours till eternity.

There would come a time when every other thought, every other worry, all the questions, the rationality and the difference between right and wrong fades into the void.  When you would want to surrender your whole life to this one man and be his until forever. And you don't just bump into someone and immediately know he's right for you. But then it could be you standing in with all the majesty before him, most definitely looking ethereal for you know the pulse… you know it when your breath hitches on grasping that this man is the only one on the entire universe to look at you and claim what’s left of your heart. The butterflies that ramble in your gut as you walk down the aisle, the lilac dome that awaits your footsteps, zillion glances that pass by… Is this the beautiful story you breathed in silence all your life? Probably. The threads of the fictitious tales that we weave don’t bind us in, until they are shared, imagined and turn out to be the embellished beginnings o

That one speck of Awesomeness.

I try my best to avoid it, to shrug off the topic, to sway her away from this every day, every minute reminder of that hopeless junkie. Do I know him? I do not know him but for the loud, screaming picture of him in her head. Such was their beseeching chemistry . I do not know him. But I do know that his antics make everyone laugh to death. Maybe he is like the eerie silence, trying to trap everyone with his intoxicating self.   Maybe he always has an unspoken mischief playing about his lips. But when he talks… that sight definitely would look like a fantasy, oh buoy! No...No... He doesn’t talk. He shouts as loud as a feverish chimp, letting all his panted emotions out through his shriek. He couldn't even be bothered to act cordial when it is just a few… not even in solitude.   And for her, Do I know her? Well… who else does?   And I say that very proudly. Twitching her hair and pushing a loose fringe behind her ears, pursing her lips and rocking back on her heels. Flut

Chocolates and Spices.

‘Poles apart’ would be a phrase, yet it defined the irony in their bond perfectly. He was the ‘No’ to all her approvals. He was the acceptance to all her rejections. He was the wake up call to all her trance. He was the leap of faith in all her insanity. He was the conclusion to all her beginnings. He was the extension to all her limits. What more! He was a beautiful story in her ever expanding horizon of thoughts. She could never narrate it and she wondered why. Probably he never gave away anything. Even otherwise she could talk about a whole lot of things under the sun with so much precision but not him. And she wondered why. Maybe love was an oblivious reality.

The spell of a faraway land.

Have you ever wondered about the existence of an unleashed reality? It could be a daydream, but the world that builds up in the fraction of a second probably when our mind is sound. In the most tranquil hours of the night. Mere dreams would take us to a whole new world that carries tinges of our memory to build an expansion. Vague faces, silenced sound, Isn’t it an alternate universe that we carry for the shortest span? Possibly an existing one? Probably. There could be a boy smirking sadly or a girl laughing about frantically over the moments that we visualize in the mere time. Nevertheless a world faraway truly stands for the bubble that we blow up in our minds. The bubble pricks and the dream shuns. It’s quite amusing to actually envisage the world that rooms for all our wonderful bonds and the mankind to be a bubble of a faraway land. A strong contradiction it would seem, but whatsoever it’s never an offense to build castles in the air over such zillion sparks of mind. After al