Where are the stars?

There's no hope of the smoke settling, even the nights seem blurry and bleak. Peeping my head out of the balcony, I desperately wished for the sight of the shining dust, I wished for magic. For once I thought it was the city lights that kept away the shimmers on the sky, but it wasn't. Nor was it because of the lighthouse lamps. It couldn't at all be the floating lanterns for they appear only once or twice a year. I kept wondering if the stars were under a massic mood swing like me, not wanting to show their face! But how can they stay away from their missy moon for so long?

I couldn't decipher it because it was never visible, it was gradual like slow death. So slow that it skipped our gaze. But now it's obvious, before our eyes, existent and evident. And not us, but the stars had to pay the price, the price of their existence.

I am still on the balcony, pondering over a gazillion things, thinking what if I had listened to granny, she had put her heart and soul in believing that our ancestors lived above the sky and they visited us gliding over the stars, signalling us with a spark of love. And here I am dying to find one such star for my granny loved me too much. But today I realize that, maybe it wasn't about faith, maybe it was their excuse of keeping a check on the sky, for who knew if anybody was bothered about the stars, midst the beaming crescent moon.

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Rains And Ruins.

W ords should not be kept for later because they thrive on mood and my mood is nothing less than a pendulum, so I thought I should pen it down. It's not Monday today but I still got the blues. When I say blues, I literally mean the bluish tone in my otherwise curtain-coloured reddish room, along with the pretty melancholic climate. I hate the dark clouds that get clogged in the sky refusing to pour in, but I love when it finally rains. It's like the clouds have vented out their long-held pain. It feels liberating and very refreshing. I don't quite feel like working in this climate, rather I would be sitting on my terrace, watching the rain, sipping tea (which I am doing even now to avoid falling asleep on my laptop). But the sad truth is I can't go up on my terrace, not at least for the next 2 months, the renovation works are going on and I badly miss the only beautiful, picturesque location in my house. The staircase bricks are cracked to build newer ones and there

This is Where I Belong.

I am here today, dawdling back on the days, hours, minutes and seconds, that haven’t paused to wait for me to heal, that have drifted past as I remained still in the same place, reminiscing the numbness as I walked out your door. The tangible and the intangible cascade of feelings that I grew out of, explains just how inexplicable it’s always been with you, and always will be. Sometimes, I wonder what went wrong , how much of myself I left in you, and in the wake of us. It had never been like a perfect narrative, but it wasn’t all shortcomings and flaws! Trust me, you were the person I wanted to plunge into the future with. To get strange, sad, beautiful and sometimes a little gross. It was never about settling down but more fondly about taking off with you, to new adventures, horizons and life. But now, I no longer want to go back in time and love you harder. I don’t belong in there and this is my knowing that life goes on. There is more to life than just chasing someone

“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

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