Some Glittery, Gummy Goodness!

It's been a long since I wrote something meaningful. Maybe I waited too long. I waited too long for my pen to make the move while in the happy times, but it refused. I don't sincerely know what's with me and moodiness. Not just shallow moodiness, but despair, depression, sadness, those palpitations you get out of being hurt? No? well, that's because not everyone gets it. The loners do I guess - haha :D

So, coming back to my point - I think people immediately turn to shoulders they can lean on, cry and soak their tears but never think of a single soul to share their happiness with. Human psychology? I don't know - but going by this conclusion is why I don't scribble anything during my happy times. As if any of this is important! It is! A big blatant truth that I don't have a single friend to share my feelings - happiness or mourning. And if I don't write down what I feel, then how do I read, remember and laugh about those silly moments like 30 or 40 years after? Okay, this sounds weird - but it will simply result in depletion of my memories, with only the cold ones to remember. Boring!

So, conquering the refusal, I will have to pen down some happiness, some good, glittery, gummy goodness that sticks for years and some shivering, pale hands come in search of them, years after.

So let's start!

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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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