Home Is Where The Heart Is

There is always a home that you live in and the one that you feel like home. In this constant debacle of finding one's true home, we give up on the people who once opened the doors for you and said, "Hey! Welcome. Make yourself comfortable." 

You enter their lives like a kid lost in the food-truck fair and each step that you take further on welcomes you to the atrocity of awkwardness that prevails in the first smiles of knowing nothing and nobody. The symmetry of a being is then distorted to pieces when the asymmetry of homelessness dawns on a being. Being a vagabond, I like to say that I have a corner of home every part of my existence. But is it so? Walking with every strand of flowing hair through the wind and reminiscing how I have felt and been homeless for quite a while now. The materialisation of a home isn't the four walls with food for me. Home is the feeling of raindrops running down my eyes in the slow sounds of pitter patter when home hugs me and asks me, "How are you? Really!" 

The feeling of feeling safe in the between the ass-grabbers and insecurity builders, there is that one home that will embrace you with blank slates and will love you no matter what. To identify that one feeling is pretty deceiving in the process. Every new touch of warmth feels like this is a place to redecorate and build up as your own. You figure, that every beam of sunlight coming from that one single identity or place is worth to be in, forever. The fact is, the sun has to set. The sky will turn into the hue of crimson and grey and for once it is dark. So dark, that the home you are in seems to lose itself, withering in the flakes of the wall that is coming out. The cups in the sink are just another reminder of how you are left in the adversity of being in the feeling of homelessness and hopelessness that no such place is good enough anymore. But nevertheless, there is a sky full of stars in the darkest hours. The home swivels its finger down your spine and suddenly you have a shiver down your body of hopes and dreams. The four walls walk to you and embrace you with arms you never knew existed in the first place. They will ask you how your day was. They will ask you what is making you flinch at the thought of being here in the first place. You are then left with an unfurnished thought of null. You do not have the answer to what the pain is or to what extent is it breaking your bones, body, and brain. You just pass it away with a gentle smile of nothing.

So now, the darkness has prevailed. You have made your own black hole and you just don't seem to see stars anymore. All of a sudden, you give up hope on it too. In the constant fight of belonging you seem to belong only to yourself. It is in between the process of change to a realisation where you know where you are at with every count of breath. This is time to say goodbye to the home you were in. Home has started to push you away with the same pair of arms it embraced you with. The smell of home isn't familiar anymore and your appetite for anything remotely inside it is turning into anger and disappointment.

But the most beautiful part about losing a home is finding a mansion filled with love. You take constant loans of hope and build on to payoff for the exchange of just a mere touch of love. To each and every step, stop by and say, "Thank you, thank you for stopping by. Just leave the door open for me. Will you?"

Defying Black Hole

Sitting is a girl who I knew once.

Filled with the power of a nebula.

Pixie dust and sparkles were along with her.

Her smile felt like her savior.

Guarding her, from herself.

But as I see her now,

She sits there alone with five others.

She hears no one as she nods.

She sweats as the monsoon arrives.

She freezes as the summer approaches.

Her once sparkling eyes,
Now lie still, into the blank space.

Shining through the armour
She thought there would be someone.
Breaking through the sheets of iron and rust.
She saw through her camouflage of pixie dust.
An illusion of happily ever after.

Hoping to depend on someone hopelessly.
Who am I to blame her?
Aren't we all taught to live that way?
Aren't we taught to slay?
Slay our dreams, hopes, efforts to depend on someone?

But yet, she tried her best to get the wings.
She wanted to feel what magic her pixie dust and wings,
Together did. 
Tired and wired with what she had,
She felt ruined too easy.

This went on for a month or two.
I tried to help her 
But it wasn't something anyone could do.

When magically she appeared with wings.
Sparkling dust again encircled her.
She came out of the empty space.
She, for once, defied the falling into the black hole.
But when I saw her jump out of it.
I saw her become a star again.
The brightest, the toughest, the fittest.

My I, Wasn't WE Before!

My childish whims,
Your childish smile.
My obsession with you,
And your eyes, your deep brown eyes like the sky.
Infinite, endless, filled with dreams and hopes,
And love.

My scars, my pain, my sorrow, my name!
I forgot it all with just a touch.
A touch so deep and divine,
Which I could be eternally gratified for.

Slowly swirling, from cheeks to the neck.
Your fingers ran a spark in every second.
In me, my soul, my dreams, all ignited.
Your eyes, through the glasses,
Broke all the chains I was tied up to,
And made me someone I wanted to be.

How did you know that I was here?
How did you realise that you were all I ever wanted?
How did you finally fit into the sea of jigsaw puzzles?
How did you see through me and made me yours forever?
Where were you all this while?

I fly the flight I never flew, with you.
I swim the oceans happy, in which once I dreaded to be in.
I now will fight as I now know the light is you.
I will now fill up the holes as my heart is you.
I don't have to hunt anymore as my search is over.

I have never been in so much love before.
I haven't been felt so secure before.
I have never been loved before.
My life hasn't been magical before.
I have never been ME before!

My, I wasn't WE before!

Puff, Exhale, Rewind...

A kick in the heart,
And a puff did it all.
The smoke, as it rose higher,
I saw the smile.

The smile I dreaded the most,
The smile my heart skipped a beat at.
I didn't just see it, 
I saw the almighty place the smile in front of me.

Exhale it all!
I thought it went down with the gravity!
The pain, the smile, the big brown eyes...
Instead, stood in front of me, as my head turned round.

One.. a puff.. Two.. a puff
A puff again and it's three.
Tap it again, and there goes the ash into the drain.
As it falls, I see him fall for me all over again.

I look up to the sky,
Feel my throat twitching as it goes in,
My nose fills up with a stinging memories.
And I see him walking towards me.

A rush in the head, a swing on the feet.
As I fall, I felt his arm.
The marks of several scratches on her wrist.
Hurt no more.

In a puff,
I realised being the real me was more painful.
In a puff,
I SAW where my life had a stop.

Dear Narendra Modi- An open letter

Name: Anokhi Dasgupta

Nationality: Indian

Caste: ……. Well general!

And all this time I was taught that being an Indian was enough for me to live in this country. As long as I was a little kid, life was simpler till I knew that a specific discrimination entitles me to have a benefit or not. Not just me as an individual, but my entire family is the victim here. I have been told that I belong to a caste of Doctors. Good enough! We all must applaud to the revelation! But what has this unnecessary discrimination done for me? I started my college studying BBA. The official fee slab stated Rs.20,000 for a year. Cheap enough? Yes it was! For the very same reason I had a long procedure of aptitude tests, group discussion, personal interview, and a mock presentation. But later when I got the offer letter, I saw my fees go up to Rs.50,000 a year. Why was that if you may ask?  That is because I fall into the General category of caste? All my hard work, sincerity, dedication was shattered in this battle.  Every quota disapproved my caste and I had no privilege of anything.

A year later I went onto pursue my life long dream of being a creative writer and gave my name in for Mass Communication. I got into a pretty good college with amazing people all around. Surrounded by the hills, my college was the perfect place where I could be at. The best part, the prospectus stated, no reservation for out of Uttarakhand candidates. In my head I had a feeling, ‘Finally! No sabotage of my basic human rights!’

But later when I started my classes and made a few friends there, I had the most surprising revelation, that the general caste has to pay literally double of what the SC/STs are paying again.

Mr. Modi, with all due respect, I would like to ask you something! The reservations were introduced in the Constitution of India, because at that time, India really needed them. But now when the youth is actually not stereotyping on who is Shudra and who is Brahmin, then why are we still there? Why are we still working on something, which does not exist, to that extent anymore?  Now the mechanism that works is the reverse reservation! Why aren’t we adopting Uniform Civil Code? Am I being punished for being a completely normal and contributing Indian? Is my religion the benchmark for my skill and work? Do we still have to live in a division of minority? Are we going to die discriminated? Are we not going to get the right to burn our ashes too later or there is a reservation for that too?

Sincerely,

Oh, So, General

An Open Letter To Hrithik Roshan

Dear Hrithik Roshan,

Yesterday, I genuinely forgot that it was your birthday, but I did have a dream which had the exact red car which you drove in Kaho Na Pyaar Hain. Just the difference was that my Naani was driving the car in my dreams yesterday. I baked cake on my own yesterday. That is how much affection I have for you. Well, as I forgot to wish, a very Happy Birthday to you. This post might be published late but I am writing today!

Rather than giving you gifts, I have some complains for you. I am not the type of fan who builds temples, sticks posters, make out with the posters, worships with Agarbattis everyday. I don't even want to be one of those kind. But I am someone who respects the brilliance in you, and has been trying to follow what you do (apart from your workout regime). 

Now apart from my selfish motives, let us come to generalization. Have you ever wondered how painful it is when you just fall in love with a man when you are just 5 years old, and the next thing that you find out is that, the man got married! I have been through that pain! 

How do you feel when you know the man you adore is in the town and you just can't meet him, coz Hello! I was standing all the way behind, during the Joyalukkas Opening at Vadodara, let me tell you, I am just 5'1". It takes a lot of sweaty and obnoxious armpits to go through you! Have you ever wondered about those who do not have the enough money to buy VIP tickets? I bunked my freaking awesome tuition classes for it! I had a full amazing opportunity to meet you at a private party in Indore, but then again, you never worry about those who do not have the access! 

Moreover! You have no right! Absolutely no right to make a 5 year old girl, dream of living life with you like adults! Isn't my teenage and adulthood, a problem enough for me! I still remember telling my mother, on how desperately I could be your domestic help just to be with you! Have you ever thought that why are you so perfect? 

You are the kind of man which has been described in every mythology. You are someone I guess how Jesus, Shankar, Arjun, Krishna, Gautam Buddha, might have looked. And here there is no exaggeration! I have spent every Valentine's Day telling everyone that I enjoy being single, but the reality was that I was waiting for MY Hrithik Roshan.

But you know what! Here comes the complete base and my motive for this letter. I thought men like you do not exist! I thought I would never fall in love and I will wait for you! (Yes! I was that insane!) But I was wrong! I did not find someone like you, but guaranteed I found someone who is million times better than you, because of only one reason. And that is that he knows I Exist! He is not a dream, he is reality. And the major part of why he is better than you is, he is way more cuter, and he loves me more than anything else in the world. He is also someone who would keep me like The Queen of his own kingdom, and I am proud to be one. 

Jealous? You should be!

I am now far more contented that I cannot meet you. Because I am a fellow Journalist/ Writer in making. If I have the potentiality enough, I will meet you not by lines, but by giving you an appointment, or taking yours.

Yours not forever (coz I have my soulmate)

Anokhi Dasgupta

Heart Aches

There is this scene in Fault in Our Stars, in which the nurse asks her, "How would you rate your pain?" Hazel would always put up her eight fingers when the pain was worth the ten. This particular scene made me realize that pain does demand to be felt, but it's intensity completely depends on us. We are the one to decide whether its a 5 or a 10.

But sometimes there are not pains, but feelings, which you cannot express to any one who is close to you. The best friend who can help, or the boyfriend who stays through every rant, you cannot utter a word to them. Things just get worse. You begin to see that you have lost yourself, with these silence. These feelings that you had hidden in you for years, because you wanted to be strong. 

There comes a phase in your life, when you absolutely have no one. You are the one whose so called friends envied you. You moved to so many places that stability is now a luxury. Your upbringing has been so recluse that the hidden feeling just take a toll on you. Expressing becomes a negativity for you and you feel suffocated.

Your best friend's tears are no worthy as you cannot console. You aren't the reason behind your man's smile. You are beaming with so much that the 'Midas Touch' turns its tables, and you aren't the reason behind anybody's happiness. You learn that I Love You isn't a special phrase anymore, or it is a sedated and exclusive expression anymore. You cannot express it coz come on you cannot be orthodox on expression of emotion. You look into the mirror everyday and you do not find the motivation to love yourself. You aren't your own beautiful anymore. You are not a ray of hope anymore. 

Everybody is moving so fast in there life that nobody has seconds to spare to the people they love. No not even your parents. Because everybody has their own suffering and you are the only good listener. You look into the mirror and see yourself ageing, you do not look that bubbly girl anymore because somewhere in the crowd you have lost your spark. You have short migraine attacks almost everyday and you see your eye sockets deepening. 

Each day you see yourself getting insecure of losing things. Love, friends, and those who have a platonic connection. You are constantly fighting a battle with your insecurities of not losing him. The insecurity of not another friend trying to destroy your career. The insecurity of not being able to express enough to make people understand your pain. The insecurity of not being your best friend's friend. The insecurity of you not being heard enough. 

It is a constant battle that you fight for no gain. You do not have the source of opponent. But whosoever is, you want them to stop.

Because you just can't take this anymore. Your hands are now bleeding with the wounds of silence.

SOMEBODY PLEASE STOP!

From Mars and Venus?? Lets talk about that!

This entire year or the years prior to that, I have seen sexist jokes, ridiculing the complexity in women, complaining girls are the most complex creatures on this planet. So this year I decided to promote a little healthy gesture between men and women, and may be shake a hand of communal harmony (horrible analogy!)

Today on this day of New Year, and with an illogical myth of what you do this day, goes on for the entire year. I thought of doing social work. By helping the entire social breed of those who are stupid enough to think women are complicated. So I will break a few things down, to help you in future, so that all you men, who read the following points do not stereotype us. So from all the women, here are few things that will untangle your brain cells and make us understand better.

1) Like your sexist jokes suggests, WE ARE DOMINANT. But only for those to whom we give or are ready to give our utmost care and attention to, or else you stand to be a freaking nobody. I repeat, if we are not dominant, *YOU ARE NOBODY*

2) We Whine About Your Precious Time? We women are born and raised to leave their parents and friends so that we basically become your domestic help after marriage or during live-in, *talking about long term* and also get into the bed with you. The feeling of not being even a proper fraction of your time sucks. It is not that you give us an entire day. But if you give us a proper time of even 10 minutes, we can survive for a week on that boost of happiness. 

3) BE HONEST PLEASE!!! A girl has the power to love you passionately, and also ruin you leaving you so devastated. And that depends completely on your behavior and the way you tell her the truth. Believe me, of she likes you and you tell her you once sold coke for living, she will accept you if she really likes you! Mark my words!

4) Grand Proposal, extra sweet names? Hell no!! We don't give a fuck about whether you propose us on the seventh floor of Eiffel Tower or you just blow a kiss on phone! We can actually make out which one is right from the heart! (We do believe that you should pop out a ring from your pocket)

5) Boy! If you gotta dump her! Dump her for once. It is way more easier for girls to move on and realize the trash she was living with. So the notion of taking her for granted is a genuine bullshit! She might take you back once, coz she was weak. But make sure you don't make it a habit, coz again, we can ruin your lives too!

6) Mood Swings!! Boy! If a girl wants to talk to you during her periods! You better feel special, because at this time she would probably want to kill herself, her ovaries, the mankind, the universe. But instead she wants to talk to you! So please be kind. If you support a girl through her periods. You have won her heart. So don't you dare blame it on PMS!!

7)Women whine and complain?

  Well we whine, coz you act like swine! *that rhymes* 

  If she whines for no bloody good reason, run and get a doctor, she   is either crazy or her hormone is. But if she is not that type of 

  girl then please look back and see. She is sticking through every   thick and thins of your life, been there through YOUR MOOD SWINGS,   hasn't seen your face for a year, just say that you love her and     that will be all. 

So that is all for now, if any of you have any queries please let me know and girls if I can add on to something also let me know.

And MEN! I know we do expect a lot from you and you too have to deal with shit around. But we are not complicated. We are not the breed of players. All we need is unconditional love and loyalty and we can remain perfect for lives to come.

I Wish I Was Your Santa For A Day

I have never been to get wrapped gifts.
Nor have I seen The Santa.
But if I could see, or believe in,
I would wrap the world for you.

The regret isn't you.
You are the joyful bliss.
But my veins turn blue everyday,
With the thought of your kiss.

I heard you got a box of chocolates,
I heard you got a box of your favorite things.
But I wish, I was the one,
To watch your face gleam.
Like that which engulfs my room,
The early morning sun.

I had to race against your Santa,
To a race of who knows you better.
I had to race against your Santa,
For that minimal touch, I craved.
I kept urging the want of your aura,
But your Santa stayed with you always.

I wish I could make you happy,
Like you Santa made you everyday.
I wish I would be the one to give,
The box of everything you needed,
In a small little box, for your smile.
I wish I could be your Santa now.
And make every Christmas worthwhile.

The Original Sankalp Article- which isn't THAT edited

#SorryNotSorry

You might have read about how time is important,

Or it might be about, how time has affected them.

But here I am a mere commonality.

Where time acts as a polarity.

Nineteen years of what has been my time,

But I have no tale of misery with me.

A gypsy, I have been all my life, as I call it.

Like my life is not kept on litmus to test,

My life has been the hovering hourglass.

Engulfing the normality out of me, and making me what I am right now.

CRAZY.

Now that it has been some shitty effort on making a good poetry on Time. Here is the real deal.

TIME.

When Harshil and Bansuri told me about writing article on this subject, I was like, “Yeah, I am the Shaktimaan!”

But after crossing the deadline, here I am where I have no clue, as I now have the panic attack of not knowing what it is. Millions of people must have told you, “Time is precious as Gold” or “Nikamme kaam kar.”  And more than that people must have come and say “Don’t worry; time will heal all the wounds.”

But I am here to tell you something really different. Time is your life span. Which is what? Around an average of sixty? That is really short. Because I remember I wanted my 10^th standard and 12^th standard to never end, and it went away like a blow of air. Time is your life, in short. If something should be begged from the million Gods in India is not money, wealth, respect or a good life partner, (believers of Sola Somvaars! Food is holy, should be followed religiously!) It should be TIME.

Before I tell you that why you should ask for more time, I would tell you what time is for me.

Time is that trip to Goa that you plan out of the blue with your sibling and a random stranger.

Time is that moment when your long time crush proposes you and you both become inseparable.

Time is the moment when your life gives you kick in the rear and your friends give a kick to that ass.

Time is the duration of that applause you get after your first dance performance.

Time is that affection of warmth when you see the beloved for the very first time, the beam of spark in eyes, and the windblown hair.

The time you and your friends make a special place in the college and restrict everyone else to come there, because you are the boss, and it’s a fake swag.

Time is the very first time a mother sees her child, in her hands, with the tiny little fingers and an angelic face.

Now, just rewind these small little moments, and look back at the hourglass. Don’t you want all this to happen once again in your life? Don’t you have a craving of being in that moment for a longer period of time?

Now let us imagine a situation, where every one of us just had 24 hours of life. No matter how famous the person is. Be it Mahatma Gandhi or Bill Gates or Deepika Padukone for that instance. Given 24 hours, the British wouldn’t invade India, there wouldn’t be any Quit India movement. Nor any Microsoft would happen. No one could scintillate the audiences on screen, as ‘Nobody got time for that!’

Now those who did not get my analogies, what I mean to say is Time is Life. Unpredictable, uncertain, unreliable, racing, confusing, betraying; but yet the most beautiful and astonishing element that the world encircles in. Time is not everyone should be worried about, what we should worry about is that we shouldn’t live in regret. Time is that element on which we blame all our mistakes on, just like the concept of God (but the fact is God is imaginary and time is not)

Instead of 24 hours we have millions of hours to LIVE the life. Live the moment. Time will make both of the bifurcations of incidents where you get kicked hard and also where your path is paved with soft beautiful roses. I have seen people who are really close to me, give me an hour long lecture on how you should utilize your time, and then regretting the fact that they couldn’t do a thing which they craved for. My mother for instance, being the most talented woman on earth and being good at what she is amazing at, that is painting. I see her regretting the fact that she had to leave her passion to raise a family, and then fulfill the holy duties of motherhood and family life. What is the point of living a life, where when you look back, all you find is disappointment? I wouldn’t say I don’t have any regrets in my life, but every day when I wake up, my mission is to stay strong and be an optimist.

And to the entire Uncle and Aunties and their take on utilizing time, well, I am too small to give a suggestion, but anyways I would love to.  Do not speak on how to utilize time. Instead, tell them how to make the fullest of the time given.

See the colors of the wind, watch a baby smile, watch the green leaves shed in autumn and watch the rebirth again. Feel the rain like a lover, feel the breeze, and feel the touch, of mother, father, and the beloved. Live wild, where there are no boundaries, drink if you want to drink, kiss if you want to kiss, fly if you want to fly, eat bugs if you want to, just what we need to keep in mind is DO NOT KEEP A REGRET.

To do so, it is not a piece of cake; it’s that hard push you have to give to a rock, while pushing it down a hill. People will stop you, humiliate you, torment you or lead to tyranny. It can be a friend, your lover, or even your parents. But the fact is you make your own way. And walk on it alone. Once you are through it that is when you realize that what time is and how beautiful the time is.

Speaking about me, those who know me I am an Ex-BBAite. Not by fortune but by choice. I remember the time I wanted to take Arts and report news holding the microphone labeled NDTV. But I was forced to take commerce. My friends and my class teachers know how I passed my 12^th. I got into the best journalism college in the country but couldn’t go there because again, I was under the test of time. I still remember the time I used to give my mid semesters in this college and used to weep internally and feel that I do not belong here. My best friends Bansuri Dayal Chouksey and Shweta Dadlani, noticed my pain. I wasn’t myself anymore. And they became my genuine pillars of my wings in making. I had three true friends, Bansuri, Shweta and Nishita. Who are still the love of my life. They gave me the push to believe in myself and gain myself back. Especially Shweta, she cried all day on my decision of leaving the college, tried all the things that could make me happy, texted a man I needed the most beside me that time. She gave her life to make her happy. I held hands of these three girlfriends of mine and left this college and headed to the airport to start my new journey. And look at me now, I am pursuing Mass Communication in Doon University, which is a premier institute in India and with everything I wanted in my life.  I live in a hostel (it is awesome). I now look back and do not regret any decision of moving here at all. And I am thankful to the supernatural for it.

My opinion is to live time, to embrace time, and to walk along time. Let yourself go without hurting your self- respect. Dance on the rhythm of the clock ticking. Because like time, life is too short to whine and regret. It is to celebrate, love, live laugh.

So I would end with a quote by a famous personality.

"Stay Raw, Stay Hungry, Stay Foolish, Stay Wild."

(quote by Anokhi Dasgupta, who forgot exactly what MTV had quoted)

Dear 16 Year Old Me! Hear Me Out!

Dear 16 Year Old me,

Hello, how have you been? Where have you gone? I really do miss you. Being 19 is pretty much a tough job and sucks. Well it will pass like you did I guess. I thought and and realized that I had not been fair to you. I hid things and did what I don't even do now. So I thought here are few things you should know or be aware of. So that no other 16 year old suffers from inhibitions. 

So dear you. Bullying is not cool. May it be bullying someone or bearing someone's shit! It is not cool. 

People in the world, and in our country are like crabs. When they see you growing taller, they pull you with their tweezers and bring you down, crash you, destroy you, kill you. But be a hammer. The strength you got after being destroyed for two years shouldn't happen to anyone else. 

What you have been spoon fed since your early childhood isn't the truth. Your mother isn't always right, she is human too. She is the breed of the incomplete knowledge. Like me, like anybody else. And so is everybody.

Dear, deciding to be single for life is an obnoxious idea. You won't be happy by just crushing on a drummer of the school band, who now survives on heroine. You won't have even the slightest bit of the heart to live alone to say 'I love being single!' Because someone will invade that space of yours and never leave that space.

Your parents will go against you when you need them the most. But also they love you unconditionally. They will stick to the thoughts of their "Zamaana" and appall you with the unscientific and irrational logics of 'Log Kya Sochenge Phenomena.' But never back down.

Make mistakes, take your scooty, lie to your parents and just get out once in a while, for hours, even if your butts start to sleep. And then begin a fresh.

Do cry. It is important, otherwise there will come a time, life will kick your rear ends so hard that you have to cry for years. Staying strong and not crying are two very different things.

You will love and get hurt, over and over again. You will feel like pulling your hair out. Your, 'I never freak out' attitude will not work, when he does not attend even one of your calls or when slightest things become big. 

Do not love too much, little me. There is no deeper pain than loving too much. Keep yourself first, because that is what it is meant to be. The stones melt like candles in love, yet we are humans. Little me, love yourself more, or try to. But because you are my conscience, you won't be able to. He will do things which you can't bear, he will do things which wrecks your heart way too deeply, but you need to stand up again. Coz everything will be be fine, if not today, then tomorrow, at some point.

You are not perfect, so do not even try to be one. Your weirdness make you beautiful. Your gigantic and satanic loud laugh, your mole on the right cheek, your height, your weight, everything makes you.. You.

Do not fear to revolt against to your elders. Wrong is wrong and must be rectified. They will go away and that is for your good.

Dear 16 year old me, you were amazing, you were carefree, you were naive, you were lovable, innocence reflected your face, you sang, you danced, and you were welcoming. I miss you, I want you back. Adulthood sucks to its extreme. People will want you to be mature, when you are having the worst time. Do not grow up.

Do not grow up at all little me, it is horrible here, but it will pass. 

Missing you,

Yours forever

Anokhi

Every Count of His Breath

Last night, when they were talking.
The words of wisdom and the silent caress.
And then while she said a word,
He fell asleep,

And she could hear his breath.
Every innocence that his breath had.
The rhythm of the sanctity of the love they had.
Every kiss they had in an enclosure.

The softness that his hand had,
Ignited it in her heart.
Like nebula does to stars.
His breath was like a sheet of ice,
On her burning wound.

Her ears felt like the ocean waves that crashes down.
And his breath felt like the moon,
Which swam through her heart, and created,
Tides.

 

Its All About You..

I lie here on my bed,
Covered in quilt in this shivering winter.
Where I see the dew condensing on the windowsill. 
The city lights, red, blue, yellow, glistening through the horizon.
But yet, the beauty was diminishing,
As I was made beautiful by the paints of his heart.

The slender caress that went by my face, the stroke of breeze.
The tender softness that my cheeks could feel, when he said, "Smile for me please!"
I remember how I used to be.
Careless, ruthless, incomplete my heart could see.
But came you,
The silent whisper in my ears,
The storm that I would get carried away with.
The cafune, my hair would die to feel.
The lingering that my skin would crave.

My life was an incomplete poetry,
The song unsung.
The loosened knot in a rope.
The unraveled gap in the rocks.

But came you,
The one who knew how to fuck reality,
And paint the life with colors of imagination.
The brush being your lips,
And the canvas being my disarrayed life.
To the love,
To the life,
A million cheers.

She Was Her Own Heaven

Her hand, 
Her hand now showed marks of the tight ropes around her.
The reigns of disbelief.
The marks of tearing up inside.
By every quarter, every inch, every cell, every nerve.

Her body cracking through her skin,
Slowly turning up and showing the marks of her heart stretching.
Her eyes dyed deep blue.
Not of sleeplessness, but the twitch in her heart.
Of her wishes which remained unfulfilled.

Her face wrinkled,
By the storm that went within her.
Because she forgot that happiness is her.
She forgot that it was not just him, that she lived for.
She was not born to be forgotten.

With a cup of coffee in her hand, sitting along the long grass.
In open air, her eyes wandered away with the smoke from her cup.
Wandering away to the land unknown where only tears of sorrow lived.
Following the smoke along,
She felt that stars make the darkest of nights beautiful.
She realized that maybe shooting stars are rare,
But they do exist.

The misty mornings,
Do turn into the clearest of skies.
The wounds do heal, 
Wrinkled hands and clawed up chains can be healed and broken.

But only by herself,
Only she was the hindrance between her,
And her happiness.
She was her own shooting star.
She was the white clouds behind the grey.
She was the long tall grass.
She was her own heaven.

If I Were A Boy*

Well, today I do not have fancy poetic alliterations and other poetic devices to let you know what I feel. Because today what I want to say is outright so that it reaches you, and you can't say, "It was too poetic that is why I couldn't understand!" So here it goes.

After having severe pains in my back, so much that I can't feel my legs right now, I feel like cutting them off, (no exaggeration), after puking multiple times because of this pain, all I get to hear from my mother and other people whom I shared my bad times with, is one phrase.

"It will pass. Girls are born to take pains. You are exaggerating."

Whereas on the other hand if a guy complains about a headache, he will get all the attention in the world coz, "Mard ko dard nahi hota." And if its happening its genuine pain!
 
Yes, I am pouring blood, bearing pains, I feel handicapped, because, yes, I am born to bear it, putting up a smile and saying, "Yeah! Its that time again when I get to feel like a woman!" I mean lets face it, isn't being a woman or a girl shittier enough? So it came to my mind, how really nice it would be if I were a boy, with every empathy to that of a woman! Yes, Beyonce inspired me for this! 

If I were a boy, I would seriously stop blaming women for mood swings, because it is not PMS that screws us up, but it is the discomfort and unbearable pain that makes us cranky,and then of course stupid behavior of all men!

If I were a boy, I would actually understand that Yes, Pyaar ka Punchnama does show the truth, but their is a whole inverse world out their which the hysterical PMSing director hasn't shown you yet.

If I were a boy, I would actually make any one wait for ages and pretend to be cool. Whether its a 'Wassup' text from your best friend, a basic Hello from your boyfriend, or just anything else, lets say, waiting and searching for a washroom when you're on a road trip, and you need to pee so bad that you can generate Niagra falls then and there. Whereas guys can just easily stop a car and do their thing and say, "Babbar sher washroom nahi jaate!"

If I were a boy, I would dump every chick and stare down at someone's booty and then try to make that girl mine. Come on girls just love to get dumped and been clinging upon.

I would just hang around late at night, and never get questioned as to where I am going? When will I be back? I could just shower all my frustration on my lady, coz come on, she is born to bear anger and have patience in the best possible way, see what is wrong and remain numb.

I could just make lame cheesy jokes on every woman possible, and become a comedian. A successful one I should say! Coz come on we are the only people who nags, gossips, whine and get angry. Men do not have something called anger. They are the coolest people ever. (And that makes me say WTF!)

I would just stare at any girl's assets even if she is fully covered, coz come on, its cool and manly! And who cares whether the girl is uncomfortable?

I would just do anything and be cool! But still! 
ITS OUR FAULT! 

WE nag. WE complain. WE do dramas. WE irritate. WE are moody. 

YES ITS OUR FAULT. But the fact, we can do without you. But you Men can't!!

*Not that I am a feminist, I love, laugh, and love settlement, but these are the facts.