mridulrapotra

i wanted to explain, but my soul was tied up in knots <3

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  • mridulrapotra 1w

    With a knife in their hand ; they call it a pen
    And stain your death note with lies
    Covered with rainbows and petrichor
    Tickling your nose to make you smile.

    The metaphors stabbing your jitters
    With ointment in other hand
    Lips uttering 'I am here' and getting distant
    with every stanza they read.

    Calling your eyes pearls or lips maybe petals
    In the verse they call love letter
    Beautiful as every tourner in ballet
    But painful as the toe in the shoe.

    The dusks and dawns they mention
    Singing the love songs of your choice
    To the theories they convinced you
    To believe that were right.

    They paint your portraits red
    With the blood of your soul they murdered
    The night you said no to the verse
    They wrote called "pardon for the flaws".
    ©mridulrapotra //-







    Sometimes the conversations with @samridhi_mahajan
    Are more than just conversations��
    (Thankyou for the idea though)
    Ily��

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    Don't fall for someone with a pen and a thought!

  • mridulrapotra 1w

    lover?


    *temporary one*

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    He stated he loved her;
    For a moment not next,
    Maybe he forgot to mention.
    He promised her the world;
    Inside the same four walls,
    Maybe his words meant detention.
    ©mridulrapotra

  • mridulrapotra 2w

    क्यों शाम में अभी वक़्त है,
    पर रात से ये अँधेरे हैं ?��

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    न आँख लगी ; न अश्क़ रुके
    पर मुस्कुराहट भरे सवेरे हैं ,
    न दिखते हैं ; पर दुखते हैं
    ये ज़ख्म क्या सब मेरे हैं ?
    ©mridulrapotra

  • mridulrapotra 3w

    Wear your heart on your sleeve ~
    ��


    * a random quatrian *
    @writersnetwork

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    The blurred ; brumous thoughts she breathes
    Seek buoyant in her grumps , giggles and freaks
    Chasing ethereal of sonder with a heartsease
    Through the tryst of her eyes , wit and dreams !

    ©mridulrapotra

  • mridulrapotra 4w

    She saw galaxies stitched to his veins
    Covered with sidereal lights of constellations
    Aligned in asterism to his verses
    He wrote with his astral eyes.

    The meridian he drew with his lips
    Over the neutron star her scars witnessed
    Underneath the umbra over her soul
    Filled with distant , reverberating voids.

    She glanced straight up at his nova beam
    Coruscant at a distance from her zenith
    It faded with supernova and a fall
    From the astral and he hid her in his stellar.
    ©mridulrapotra//<3




    Ps - love isn't my genre anymore����‍♀️
    might delete later

    @elusive_me thankyou for making me write this��



    @writersnetwork @miraquill

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    Their universe

  • mridulrapotra 4w

    पीहर - bride's paternal home
    पिहरवा - beloved
    कतरा - drop
    इश्क़ - ए - इनायत - the blessing of love
    नक़्श - marks
    हसरत - unfulfilled desire
    शीरीं - sweet


    #hindi #hindiwriters

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    मैं पीहर छोड़ आई मेरे पिहरवा तेरे खातिर,
    कतरा - कतरा कर इश्क़ - ए - इनायत बरस दे,
    नक़्श हसरत के कुछ रूह पर ताजे़ से हैं,
    शीरीं गीत माँ के एक दफा कानों में भर दे!
    ©मृदुल रपोत्रा

  • mridulrapotra 4w

    It was 6:15 or so in the evening and she was offering her prayer of 'maghrib'. The dusk was about to sleep on the lap of the dark. She finally turned her head towards left and with the 'tasleem' she chanted the last words of the prayer , bowed and then stood up. She folded her mat up , opened her scarf and hanged it with a hook behind the door and stepped towards the kitchen to help her mother.

    On the other hand it was him , at the same time lightning up a 'diya' and 'agarbati' in the little 'prayer room' in his house. It had some beautiful sculptures and paintings of gods and goddesses. He joined his hands and chanted some sanskrit prayers , hailed and bowed his head in respect. After this chorus , he left that room took the keys of his bike and drove to the market to get some vegetables for the next mong.

    After their daily routines ; both of them got to their beds and took their cell phones. "Hey" he texted , she greeted him back and the conversation continued for a bit long. "Can I call you?" She asked with a hesitation. He directly dialled her number without a second thought. " What happened?" He asked out of major concern. She was hesitating to say it out but she drained words out of her soul as a waterfall. " It has been 6 years since we are dating and of course we love each other , but what next? What about our tomorrow? I really need an answer this time. These 6 years can't be a joke right . At any point ; even if for a mili second but I assure that you have had thought about marrying me. You will turn 27 this October and your family will not even wait for a moment to get you married. I am tired of saying no to all the 'rishtas' ammi and abbu get for me. I can't see them stressed like that. Do you want to marry me?" She took a pause there with a heavy breath. There was complete silence for a minute or so. He was about to reply and her father opened the door of her room to give her the power bank that she left in his room.
    He saw her talking to someone on the phone. She took a friend's name and said it was her and cut the call as fast as she could , but it couldn't help her more. And there he thought that 'Zoya' is really upset , thus she hung over his call , so he called her again. Her abbu grabbed her phone and saw the name 'Sidharth' flashing on the screen. He rolled his eyes upwards to look at his daughter. He received the call and shouted over Sid and threatened to murder him if he ever try to contact his daughter. He took her phone along without uttering a single word to Zoya and locked her room.
    There , Sid got really scared for Zoya and started to rush. His parents when asked him , he narrated the whole story and they didn't let him go anywhere. But somehow he managed to get out of his house started his bike and reached her house.
    He called her name as loud as he could. The death threat was still echoing in his wit. Zoya glanced out of the window of her room and pleased him to leave the place ; but he didn't listen her. Her father came out of his house with her brother and hit him to death. She was crying , shouting , pleading for his life but they killed him. She rushed to her study table , grabbed a pair of scissors and stabbed herself. She never wanted to leave her parents in such conditions but she wanted them to feel the pain they gave to Sidharth's parents. She could have stayed alone without marrying anyone if they asked her even once. Maybe those 4 lives hadn't lost their children if the bars of religion weren't there.

    I wish these barriers end some day!
    ©mridulrapotra//<3

    /
    होकर बरबाद इसमें कितने यार बैठे हैं,
    फिर भी देखो क्यों लोग तैयार बैठे हैं,
    वैसे तो हर कोई कर लेता है इश्क़,
    पर मज़हब से टूटे कुछ प्यार बैठे हैं!
    ~ @dipps_
    /

    (Ik it isn't perfect ; just wrote it to highlight this side of the world)



    Ps -
    Pardon me if I wrote anything wring or hurt your sentiments.
    This story is completely fictional.

    @writersnetwork @miraquill

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    BARRIER

  • mridulrapotra 5w

    The words I pen always whisper in my ear, the another dimension to the genres which flow through the jitters of my poetry , which eats up my insecurities with a beverage of my tears.

    The stories running throughout my wit ; playing hide and seek at a moment and racing at another.
    My thoughts have made a family there ,
    The moment one is born ; another chokes and dies. Some fall in love with each other and some have disputes. Some slide through my eyes and some sit in the corner and cry for hours. And then are some maybe the lost ones , they reach my heart and plod through the field of my veins and reaches the tip of my fingers. Independent , bold , maybe fierce yet aligned.

    They form a new world on a sheet of paper ;
    We stare at each other for really long now to the extent to forget each other's existence.
    It looks at me like a child stares its mother ; and a rag picker looks for coins in the litter.

    Sometimes another little thought slides through my eyes and lands over the inked verse and it delicately absorbs it in itself. But ; it leaves some marks to the next sheet. This child of mine ; never stared at me , it had a little scar , it was quite and now it's dead. I never wrote it down but it wrote my subconscious fears over it's headstone! It's grave stays in my wallet ; the sheet ; the empty sheet for others but a graveyard of many such for me!
    ©mridulrapotra//<3

    #personification
    #pod

    @miraquill @writersnetwork

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    A folded graveyard in my wallet!
    ©mridulrapotra

  • mridulrapotra 5w

    The long stares into the mirror
    With flooded eyes
    And grudges dribbling with every drop.

    The mental breakdowns inside
    The same four walls
    Of my washroom under the shower.

    The frustrated feet paddling
    Cycle with a jerk
    When a memory randomly strikes my wit.

    The torn sheets from my diary
    With pain bleeding
    Through ink with every word I wrote.

    The looped playlist throughout
    From dusk to dark
    With a blank mind just staring at a point.

    The mark of water parched
    Over the pillow
    In a night of just blinks , drops and turns.
    ©mridulrapotra //<3
    #kept
    @miraquill @writersnetwork
    ��

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    Blinks , drops and turns !

  • mridulrapotra 5w

    One liner!
    I hope you get it!
    ��
    (माज़ी - past)

    #hindi #hindiwriters

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    आज माज़ी बन गया कल ; अभी खबर पढ़ी है!
    ©mridulrapotra