Unconditionally

If beauty is truth, there is nothing I can find half as truthful as you
If words meant emotion and eyes meant expression, there is no truer form of friendship.
We lay in bed, a few metres apart. I fit perfectly well into the cushioned corners of your bed. Curled,locked in,cozy,surreal comfort. And in the other corner you lay under layers of blankets,suffocating your emotions,hardly breathing. You were broken. And I just lay on the other side. I should have hugged you,caressed you, held you in my arms, and let you break a little less. But I chose to stay away. I chose the distance in silence,in expressible spaces. Those spaces were soon filled,not by my presence,but by words. Words can break it and make it. You're 17 and beautiful. More beautiful than you were yesterday. That night,in the darkness, I understood your depth. I understood that the kid I knew has grown up to be so introspective,understanding and intellectual in all her naivety. Somethings in life are left unsaid,I don't want this to be left half-done. So,to you,my only best friend. I love you unconditionally. There needs to be no reason behind what I feel for you. No emotion behind the attachment we have. No superiority in the bond we share. Nothing. Just love which breeds all that is great. Love that grows over the two of us not only in celebration,but also in the darkest of silence. The two of us have reasons to hate,but why are we above it? Because,our love surpasses the understanding of hate. The tumor which hate is,is killed by this passion. To all of us who never reflected upon your intelligence,I dedicate this. To unconditionally love and intertwine lives. To be there just because we are your friends. And me? Unconditional,that is all I have for you.

You and I

You are an emotion
Burning red,a bleeding hue
And I am the colour
Opaque black,unrealistically plain
On the canvas
Of depressions and dents
Life turns to us,smiling constantly
And we merge like wet ink and tears
While the unscathed history of ours is-
Jotted down on paper at length
We are an appealing mess
A side of yours
Fitting right into the shape of my arm
We are but noisy silence
In the splurge of endless thoughts
Of worthless emotions
Of chaos and bubble like happiness
You and I
Make the perfect,imperfect
The right,wrong
The nonexistent,alive
You and I
Are like pieces of the jigsaw puzzle
Incomplete without the other

Highway: A Reflection

Highway starring Alia Bhatt and a very weird hero was a movie which gave me a lot to think about. A journey repeated, songs so soulful, beauty and grace in the whispers of nature, a beauty. This movie was a true beauty. You could feel like you were getting away from your past,from yourself. Like you are moving constantly along with Alia Bhatt. When she opens up to breathe fresh air and speak way too much, you find the ebullient joy of freedom and escape. Like the suffocation inside of you is just worth letting go off, that there is no use of holding anything inside.
There are things in life you need to reflect upon. They come with the beauty but the iceberg,undercurrent too. Maybe life has always meant escape for me,to not do what I am supposed to, to be able to get away from responsibilities, to run away somewhere where the sun wakes me in the morning and not the alarm, where the air is so fresh that confines of household is not comforting. Somewhere I can carry a bunch of books and read them without having to feel guilt.
I know,I know I cannot escape like the actress did. I know I'm bound by society, but what's wrong with expecting? With knowing that you belong elsewhere? I don't want to find love on the journey,I want to find myself. Highway was not a great love story,this was my problem with the movie. But then, she found herself at the end, and I think and believe journeys are always supposed to be introspective. Where you reflect upon yourself, give your time space and time. Give your thoughts a second chance. Speak to yourself. Take decisions. Life life a little longer. Run away from yourself. Make peace with your past. Just like she did, Begin Again.

Big  Time  Swiftie  

This Place.....

There was a time when The Place was my favorite. There was a time when I adored every aspect of being a part of it. But it all changed, I shifted to a different Place. And this Place was the most pathetic encounter of my life. You know you have this feeling of kicking something out of your heart with all the force you have? You know that moment when you say "I've had enough." This Place gives me negative vibes of existence itself.

This Place was a business,a factory of excellent results. Encroaching privacy,intervening in personal lives,banning pleasure,being sadistic was kind of their motto. And the worst part is, This Place treated their customers like nonsense.Like bits of life contributing to their excellent services,profits and undoubtedly great research. This Place is a filthy little building which made its customers constantly claustrophobic. And they never took a step back when it came to suffocation either. They adopted a great international background,a clean,open minded,wide,wholesome approach towards their customers. But the foreground was dirty. Filled with minds which are worse than narrow, expressions which are detested, feeling which are cold and oppressive. It needed a little cleaning and that's is exactly when I along with a few friends of mine stepped into the foreground as customers to this worthless organisation.

I cannot deny how much we're benefited,thanks to the background. But like all their customers,they ill-treat us too. Of course, we weren't the ones who shut up, we clamored for our rights and yet we never disgraced the organisation in anyway. We represented this business with selfish motto I agree, but we also were put off and underestimated every time we took a step forward. The book shelves which gave us knowledge were smaller than my study desk. The infrastructure was no better than a matchbox. The provisions were of no quality at all. We stayed there two whole years,trying to make a little space for ourselves,finding love and families,emotions that can never be replaced. But who would've thought that the place we came to clean up, dirtied itself a lot more that it makes me write this article. Who would've thought that teenage mind-sets would be filled with depression and disappointments? Who would've thought that a place some call a Temple would be the cause of heartbreaks,regrets,dismay and sorrow?

Who would've thought that when we were supposed to end on happy terms,we were instead cursing the business? Who would've thought that the end would be so easy? When I think of it now,I will miss my friends who made the years at work worthwhile,but I shall never miss the organisation. Every contact,every second I spent at This Place is happily forgotten. My friends and I have no answer to this tragedy,we're just happy that we found a family together. But This Place could unfortunately never be called Home.

Unsent Letters

"Baby,love me lights out." I just wish, Beyonce. I just wish.

When the night falls on us,
We feel wide awake like sunrise,
We shine like perfectly cut diamonds,
Our hearts plastered with sellotape,
We wait out in silence, laying on our back,
Staring at the world above,the perfect world.
And inside my heart I write a letter,
A letter to fill this space,the warm air between us
I turn to you,to scream out the words,
Chalked on black slate-like heart.
But the minute I turn, the words inside die.
Wipe out,like a wet cloth's magical effect on the chalked emotions.
There is only so much you can say to fill in silence,
Only so much you can look into another's eyes and say
Only so much you can actually feel and believe
Only so much you can write to fit into the unposted letter

So I redraft the letter,and now it says only so much that it must
And as I space-back time,love,memories and life,
I know that unsent letters are those which are never space-backed
Because they drown in emotions,in imagery unbelievable, unrealistic
Because in reality,these unsent letters will never exist.



When you start writing letters, you realise that more than the receiver, you were writing letters to yourself. To reassure yourself what you feel and need from the other person. And then, as time passes by, you draft this 500 word letter. You back-space your words over and over again to give it perfect shape. And this letter is reduced to what you want the receiver to see and not what you actually mean.

Darker Shades of Happy Beginnings.

Curtains Fall.

Masked faces fake smiles

Hands tremble in selfish fear

Hearts beat a little faster

Slow music catches pace

Curtains Rise.

A story is told

Touching none

Curtains Fall.

Unsuccessful stares

Bewildered smiles

Transparent feelings

Fill the hot breeze

Curtains Rise. Curtains Fall. Curtains Raise. Curtains Fall.

Scene after Scene

Line after Line

Meaning's Lost.

Curtains Raise.

The Drama of Life comes to Life

Curtains Fall.

The Drama of Life continues.

She's my favorite from 90210.

What's your story?

There has been a question killing me every time I look at a face, eyes which glare with passion, lips which speak pain. This face comes in forms of a hungry little boy,a glance of a pretty girl,a smile lingering on a boy's face on a lonely road. :What's Your Story?:
What is their story,how different is their life from mine,is their pain similar to mine and their happiness? Do I experience the same magnitude of happiness and love as they do? But I'm making peace with the fact that I can never know their stories even if their faces flash in my head when I close my eyes every night. So, I decided that in the world of my thoughts,I'd save instances from these stories. Maybe one day I'd make head or tail out of it. Maybe one day, I would actually understand what people actually mean and how they cross each others path and maybe one day, I would understand their stories. The stories that they'll never tell me. Here is one such instance, that my head will grow used to.

I took tired steps down the sheltered pathway and this couple grabbed my attention. In the middle of the road, they stood in each others' arms. I could tell when the broke away,that it was a tough separation. I walked closer to them, and they looked back at each other. She turned,he turned and they looked at each other at once. There was this moment I believed in love and destiny,like you can actually feel the presence of the person around you,like you can hold on to loads of memories and then judge a pattern and get used to it,like getting used to each other and their habits. I walked ahead and the girl brushed past against me. She looked me in the eye,her eyes swollen and her face red with emotion. I could instantly feel her vibe of sorrow,but she could only feel my stare. A stare which might have seemed judgy. I tried following the boy,he walked with hands in his pockets,turned back a few more times but she was gone,briskly waded through other couples and then disappeared into the crowd. He faded and their story in my head lingered for long. I didn't know why they were separated,I didn't know what was bothering them, I didn't even know how the boy felt about the separation,but the atmosphere was filled with heartbroken-feels and I could see it seep inside me.



Imagination can do magic,magic that never existed. I might be over-thinking the whole thing,but I don't understand what I shouldn't Imagination is truly something I would love to depend on,when I'm getting old and boring. So yeah,there was separation. Looks can be deceiving, but what the heart sees is greater than anything else.