You believed in them when you saw the light, But remember not everyone chooses the light.
They fail to see what you're born to see, But they're not even willing to choose what's right.
The dark is so tempting and full of addictions. They say it takes courage to step out but really? Does it?
Courage is to choose the right, to rationalize and confront ourselves. And we merely choose the darkness out of curiosity.
The question remains what's even right or wrong? Why would any men do anything wrong at all?
We all are perfect rights on the sheets of white which are turning black and blacker. Then we claim to love the black because it consumes our dirty souls, hides the shadows of the monsters within while the white remains ignored because it's purity calls out for our souls.
You're not born to be a savior, you can't save them when they refuse to choose the light within.
Yes, you believed in them when you saw a light but remember not everyone chooses the light stop when they start pulling you in the dark, slowly, steadily engulfing you. They fail to see what you're born to see but you can save yourself and that should be enough.
I've a folder with a hundred fifty photo's of you, each photo reminds me of the conversation that we'd, every photo reminds me of how at the time with each photo you'd send my heart would melt a little more for you, how it'd be my solace on a pathetic day and I wouldn't stop smiling at the stupid faces you'd send.
I can see the exhaustion, happiness, excitement, frustration on your face every time I scroll right. I can see you living life in those bits and pieces, I can see the innocence and lonliness in those pictures. Then why is it that I couldn't see that you never loved me?
I wanted to keep all those pictures as a memory of the months we'd spent apart, to remember you when we were apart since The Times I could see you, used to fly so fast. By having the pictures I could see you whenever I want. Then why is that I couldn't forsee that when you're gone I'll be still left with a hundred fifty photo's of you?
There were times when after a stressful, prolonged call I'd come back to my wallpaper and find you staring right at me, I'd blush a little each time. There's a photo of you where sheru is licking your face, technically I should be jealous that the dog loves you more but it's my fav photo of you, it fills my heart with so much warmth, love and happiness.
Now I'm just left with a hundred fifty photo's of you and a dozen voice notes. I don't open my image gallery anymore so that I by mistake don't end up looking at another photo of you since that causes a pit in my stomach, my throat gets dry and I go numb. All I'm left with is a memory of you.
A parallel universe that our imaginary minds had created.. the one where it was just you, me, sheru and our cat. On the days when its impossible to go without looking at you, listening to you and the reality of you being gone strikes me.. I take resort in that imaginary mind, I go to our parallel universe, the one where we're having wine by the bottle and eating strawberry cheesecake in bed, giggling and laughing.
I escape our dark reality, the one where you left me, the one where you didn't forgive me, the one where you couldn't see the light in me in my darkest hour. I yearn for that love and happiness forever even though I know you'll never come back and you've convinced yourself that I'm not waiting for you either. I'm holding onto our parallel universe where everything's still fine since all I'm left with is a memory of you in those a hundred fifty photo's of you.
This is a vicious cycle for an eternal life of pain.
Disclaimer : These are the symptoms of people who don't grieve because they can't accept what has happened instead of letting it sink in, pause and deal with the grief, they carry it with them like a heavy weight on their shoulder even though it's not theirs to carry. No, don't get me wrong.. it's not like they can't, they very well know how to process it but they don't want to deal with the possibility of a loss. They resist change, they're stubborn and adamant.
So instead of processing the trauma, accepting it, letting themselves vent and grieve. They just show up to work the next day after a loss of a loved one, they don't miss a single day of work since they think that's what keeps them going. They're hard working, quiet but as loud as they can be in other ways, efficient, ambitious in fact.
They're survivors, and the thing with survivors is that they live on their emergency brain and the thing with emergency brain is it responds too quickly, so anything that their emergency brain fails to process, it gets stuck in the loop as their emergency brain only keeps analysing without concluding, resulting in a vicious cycle where they basically torture themselves, unknowingly.
They now only have different scenarios associated with the memory and they choose the best logical reason to comfort us or to reason with. They instead of letting themselves feel the pain and grieve, choose to torment themselves with a lie, with a piece of logical reasoning in their brain. They choose an eternal life of pain by running away from it. They escape reality, they keep running away, choosing to comfort any other soul for a brief moment that they stay with and then they move on to substituting it by another person or thing to fill that void in them.
How to identify them? They lose their patience too soon, they're anxious all the time, there's always a rush, an edge to things, one race after another leaving them with no time to breathe, while fixating on achieving milestones after milestones. They end up crying on silly things like being unable to open up a lock, they get drained of their energy, end up getting hang and shutdown in every couple of months. But they always gather their pieces and pull it all back. They look really calm on the face though so you'll have to look closely, if you'll look at the signs voila! you've identified.
Don't meet me in the start but don't meet me in the end either... Meet me somewhere in between.. Meet maybe when you've found a purpose but not when you've fulfilled it either. Meet me somewhere in between.. Don't meet me when you can't let go of the past but don't meet me when you've lost the will to live either. Meet me somewhere in between.. Meet me when you've grown wiser but not when life's worn you out either. Meet me somewhere in between.. Don't meet me as the first love that doesn't last but hurts forever. Meet maybe as my last love laced with happiness forever. Don't meet me when you're not ready to let me love you but maybe meet me when you're ready to let me touch you. Don't meet me with broken trust and anger but meet me with scars of the souvenir of heart wrench you carry. Don't meet me when you want to get away from home but meet me when you wanna go home.
Waqt ne par to diye, magar zindagi ne udne na diya. Kismat mein ucha khula aasman toh diya, magar inn bediyon ne unhe chuh ne na diya.
Bachpan se h udaan bharne k baatein hoti rahi, wo khula asman dikha dhyeya tay hota raha. Lakshay ko dikha koi seema na rakhi par udane k waqt bandishon mein bandh diya. Iss waqt ne par toh diye par udane na diya.
Jakad k band diya un h bediyon se, chabi humein h sop keh diya hum h se k jab mann karey, jab mausam sahi lagey, jab koi na dekhe aur bas waqt sahi ho.
Bas tab tum bina sochey inn bediyon ko khol udan bhar lena. Waqt se par toh aa gaye par inn bediyon se kabhi chutkara na mila.
Aa gaye humarey rakhwaley, humarey h angan mein chaukidari karne waley. Uche aasman k sapne dikha, udaan kaise bharne ye sikha, unn h bediyon mein jakde hue, humein ek sone k pinjre mein kaid kiye hue.
Waqt k tahe par toh diye par humein udane na diya. Haye ye sone k pinjra.
It's been months that I last touched you, felt you. There's a bond we create when we touch, a deeper connection when we look in the eyes of the person sitting across to us, something so lively and vibrant.
But now it's been months that we've held or embraced each other. We're growing cold and distant towards each other. There are things we forget to tell but neither of us seem to mind anymore. The messages keep getting shorter and as we run out of topics to discuss, chat's getting full of meme's to LOL on.
It's been months that I was last tracing your palm with my finger tips and I look exquisitely at all the wounds that have now healed but have scarred you. We keep sending each other our best pics, cute pics, making faces or looking exhausted kinda pics.
It's been months that we've last hugged, tickled or ruffled each other's hair. We get happy at the sound to our voices in the voice notes we leave for each other. They make my worst day do-able.
But its been months since I last saw you and we're forgetting each other, the time we've spent together is getting less against the time we've spent apart. That's the thing with these staying virtual together. But you dont understand the importance of a simple touch until you dont get to hold one another.
Who says only mother can over love and she builds her child to be a strong individual?
I participated often in drawing competitions as a kid there was one where I needed to have oil pastels. I call my father telling him there aren't any at the nearest stationary if he could get me some on his way home, he was running late he mentioned. I slept waiting for him that night. Next day there was a 60 shades oil pastel box kept along with my breakfast.
For every bet he ever lost I'd get a large swirl as a prize to his misery. He'd manage to make somewhat round paratha's whenever mom was away and he'd always serve it with extra ghee.
Somehow I never got maths and maths never got me. He'd always drop me in the morning for all my papers, nudging some fruits my way to eat and asking me to take it easy but of all the papers it was my maths paper morning that he'd an early board meeting. He managed to call me right before I walk in giving me his best prep talk, post the paper listening to my gloomy voice he decided to get two family pack of ice cream to soothe it all away.
Leaving me to live on my own was clearly the hardest day of his life but be was still more focused on not letting me put mess right away to always sending me extra money and encouraging me to have a cheat day to eat my favourite outside. He'd send an entire box of mangoes in summer or a big packet full of dry fruits in the winter.
To oiling my hair on the days they were too rough to stocking the fridge with all my favourites whenever I visited. To saving my ass from my mother when she found a lighter in the handbag or from the time whenever she saw a new novel in my hand, he'd always had my back.
To listening me rant and to always telling me not to give up, he has always pushed me to be my best, sky is the limit he'd say.
As I was preparing for interviews I'd tell him you being such an experienced interviewer should be giving me some tips to excel and he'd only have this crooked smile on his face saying nothimg in return.
One day I go up to him and ask why do we celebrate Ganpati, I mean I've not heard our version of it like how maharashtirans have theirs. Very casually reading the newspaper he tells me well, I don't know and I look at him stunned what do you mean you don't know and he says exactly what you know that I've no clue. The unconvinced me asked him did you never ask your parents, he says we weren't so intelligent beta. The unsettled me asks him in return didn't you think what you'd answer if your kids ever asked, he answered with an evil smile I never thought my kids will be so intelligent either beta.. leaving me happy but speechless.
Visiting relatives is always entertainingly handful so after one such visit when we returned I ask my father you're so well educated, you've seen so much of this world, you're at such a better position than any other to bring a change. Then why is it that you haven't done much on betterment of females in our house? He says I've done my share and I asked him how? With his usual evil grin on his face he replied our times were different and for to bring in the change you talk about I'd to only raise you right, the fact that today you ask me such questions and it troubles you this much, it only tells me I've done my part right. You're the change I'd in my hands to create, to mould my child and you're my rebillion against the world.
As I grow up I realise he wanted me to be at the steering wheel and he'd only adjust it from time to time so that I stay on the path I'd decided for myself. He never chose a destination or a decision for me. He always left the cues along the path, he's there to support me, to motivate me. Thanks for being the best co-pilot papa.
I remember the day I asked you if I can keep you. You said Yes within fraction of seconds, like you'd been waiting for me to ask you that.
I remember the day as clear as if it were yesterday. As my heart skipped a beat, I was blushing on my cheeks, butterflies in my tummy, and I was gushing with happiness, grinning at my phone screen all along. Those fraction of seconds were so long, I kept embracing them for so long. I was a kid in the moment who had managed to get everything I'd ever want. I remember being over whelmed and speechless yet today as I see it, that fraction of time flew too fast. You managed to fit in my life like you were the missing puzzle all along, like you ended up being an answer to the questions I didn't know but I had been looking for, like you were the miracle I kept waiting for.
Today all I'm left with is a memory of you that's fading fast... And I think with you will die a forever I ever dreamt of, a love which got rooted deep in my heart, a possibility of a tomorrow I never knew I wanted.
When I'll look back you'll still be my favourite person and I promise I'll keep you with me forever engraved in my heart, because oh! you did agree to let me keep you in the start.