The whispering winds echo my words. Do you hear them?

The raging storms portray my anger. Does it vex you?

The blazing sun is my indignation. Do you swelter?

The soft showers imbued in my love. Do you bathe in them?

The unwavering clouds eclipse the skies, obscuring my feelings. Do you try to unravel them?

The falling autumn leaves settle on the ground, hoarding my happiness with them. Do you collect them?

The blooms of March exhibit my smiles. Do you savour them?

Everything around you holds my essence. Do you love it?

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Dear You,

Love is nice.

It has its crazy moments. You want to leave the moment you see signs of distress because you don’t want to hurt yourself by sticking around. Love is also sticking around; crying and screaming through it. But also coming back to the person you love and sharing with them. And telling them that perhaps that’s all that matters. That they will work things out because they love each other enough to stay together and work on it.

Love is sad.

Love is knowing that you care for this other person so much, so damn much that you never want to see them sad. You love them so much, it hurts. But they don’t love you, not the same way. And that’s sad. But you still love them because it’s love and it doesn’t go away. And it’s not a movie. The other person won’t suddenly fall in love with you. You just learn to live with it. And then, one day, it becomes normal.

Love is beautiful.

It’s seeing roses on the bed after a hard day of work. It’s looking at the person you love cry like a maniac and laughing at their face and then laughing together. It’s watching a movie together and throwing popcorn at each other, picking them up and eating them. Love is sharing glances across the room and recalling the same memory because of the song that just came on. It’s an eye contact conveying a million words. And yet, million words aren’t enough to describe the beauty of it.

Loving someone means that you have time to listen to their pain. It doesn’t matter if you’re happy right now and don’t want to listen to someone else’s drama. Loving someone means you stay awake for them through the night because they need you. But loving someone also means that you give them the space they need when they’re feeling low about life. It means not texting them continuously when they’re hanging out with their friends or parents. It means acknowledging that the other person may not need you at the moment and it’s fine. It means missing your anniversary celebration because your love’s friend needs them and understanding that it doesn’t mean they don’t love you. Loving someone means knowing that they love you. And not being insecure about it. Loving someone means giving them their space and yet loving them the same.

Let yourself love.

Allow the happiness to creep in.

Crave beautiful things in life.


In the distance,

A little bit too far,

Lies my past.

Unbridled by dilemmas of today,

It mocks me,

Stares at me with questions in it’s eyes.

When did things go wrong?

Where did I falter?


वो जो जुड़ा ही नहीं
देख कैसे आज टूट रहा है

वो जो तेरा था ही नहीं
क्यूं आज तुझसे रूठ रहा है

शायद दिल ने फैसले लिए कुछ ऐसे
जिन्हें निभाने की हिम्मत थी नहीं मुझमें

संभाल ले उस रिश्ते को
जो बिन बने छूठ रहा है

कुछ पल रह गए बाकी
साथ गुज़ारे जा सकते थे

कुछ बातें रह गई अनकही
साथ बयान की जा सकती थी

शायद इस ख़ामोशी का जवाब मिलेगा
उन पन्नों में जो लिखे ना गए

कुछ ख्वाहिशें रह गई बाकी
साथ पूरी की जा सकती थी

आज सोचू तो लगता है
खामियां थी कई, कहीं ना गई

आज देखू तो लगता है
दुनिया थी वहीं, मुझसे देखी ना गई

तेरे ख्वाबों की परछाई बन कर रह गई
मेरी आशाओं की वो लड़ी

आज सुनू तो लगता है
बस उसी गीत की फरमाइश, शायद मुझसे की ना गई

Conversations With Myself.

Scared of the truth, are you?

Am I?

I think so.

I don’t.

Then say it.

I don’t want to.

Why not?

It’ll make it real.

Then let it.



Because reality has consequences.


I don’t want to deal with them.

Don’t be a child. Adults deal with the consequences of their words and actions.

But it’ll be crossing a line which I can’t come back from.

Everything is like that. You can’t take back words, doesn’t mean you don’t say them.

But what if it ruins my relationships with people?

So it will.

Why, then?

Because it’ll liberate you.

I hate liberty.

You don’t.

You’re right.

Then say it.

It’s the truth.

I know.

It’ll hurt.

I know.

Should I let it?

It’s not your job to protect people.

But it is. It is my job to protect the ones I love.

Even from yourself?

Especially from myself.

You’re not a bad person.

How am I not? I conceal truths from people.

Truths that will hurt them.

And liberate me.

And liberate you.


Say it.

But what if they go away?

Then they go away. It’s not your job…

I know.

Go on. You know you want to ask the question.

Why do you do this?

Convince you to speak out?


Because it makes me feel better.

That’s it? I will hurt people because it’ll make you feel better?

Don’t say that.

Why not? It’s the truth!



Don’t say it.

But then…

Then you’ll keep thinking about it day and night.


Because you need to say it.

Ugh. I hate you.

Do you?


Then why say it?

I don’t know.

It’s okay.

Is it?

It will be.

Upside Down

a world upside down.
with freedom, independence,
boundless possibilities.
nary a crime, sorrow, or pain,
no comparisons,
no joy conditional,
no fright or dread,
or fear of consequence
jubilation all around.
perennial contentment,
unquestionable happiness,
a free land.

Utopia or Dystopia?

Liminal Spaces

Liminal spaces, ever full
Of people, life, stories

Transient, non-stationary
Reaching destinations

Travel, journeys
Incomplete, random, playful

An ignored plea,
An accepted request

Unspoken queries, answered
A heavy bag, acquiesced

An excited soul on Monday morning
Or a tired Wednesday acceptance

Of a weekend too far
Or the Friday evening dance

Temptation of sleep, rest,
Weekend meetups, parties and plans

Tired smiles, frowns and tears
Lonesome, accompanied, occupied

Some with patience of saints
Some with wicked tempers

Transient, non-stationary
Reaching destinations

Liminal spaces, ever full
Of people, life, stories

A Letter To The Past

Dear Past,

You have within you skeletons and dreams buried so deep, I couldn’t dig them out with a shovel. You have old friends, some stay with me and some don’t. You have people wanting to be scientists and astronauts, never failing to aim for the sky. I got unlucky there. I have half dead zombies striving to make ends meet. You have dreamers, philosophers and people willing to explore. All I have is people willing to die sooner than they should. You have monuments and structures so creative, and I have people fighting over the lands. I hate complaining, but that’s all you’ve left me.

Well, I hope you’re happy. Who are we kidding? You’re not. There are so many people running from you, why would you be happy. Nobody wants to embrace you. They just want me. All of them. But they’re idiots. They have no idea about your powers. And someday they’ll know, then they’ll regret it. You can be proud of yourself for finally ruining everything then. But try not to, please. They’re mortals after all. They’ll come crying to me later and I will have to wipe their tears and show them the bright sun again.

Take care of yourself, friend. And them.

Also, don’t run so fast, you’ll catch up with me sooner than I’d like.

Lots of love and distance,

PS request present to be a little more active in her job, will you?

Aren’t we all stories?

I carry my story
Eighteen years worth of it
To a new place
Full of the unknown
People, surroundings
It’s a new time
A new phase
A new opportunity
To rewrite my story
Do justice to my time
Feel good again
It’s a chance
To re-establish me
Rewrite the person I am
Rekindle the fire within
And I will do right by me
I’ll stand stronger, and higher
And carry my story
From this world to another
With pride and joy
Mine will be the most captivating
Of all the stories you hear
And I, it’s writer, the most striking
There have been wrecked trains
And movie moments
You’ll want to know about
And soon, you’ll become a part of my story
Which I’ll take again in a few years
To another world, bright and new
Few years added to my story
More adventures within
Crying to be known
I’ll take my story
Twenty one years worth of it
To yet another new place
Full of the unknown

~to college, a new adventure

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