Those pink barbies still crave for blues( Society mocked
at those boys who loved pink)
(In this piece, Blue is referred to as a boy , and the
poems in between the para are written by me)
My every date went awesome without that colour.I
believed that the sky has been cursed bereft of any pink
shades,crying over her own fate, what would you think is
just a flood.
I've been nurtured saying: " "
But both pink and hot wheels are just two nouns right?
despite of any caste, creed and Sexual discrimination!
Blue loved wearing pink hair pins and the polaroid on the
walls of his room reflected perfect oxymorons. The
neighbouring barbie dolls peeped through the glass
windows into his room got jealous seeing Blue playing
with those pink dolls ,they also wanted Blue to play with
Those wild spider mums wait eagerly to get
circumscribed round his head but the roses wilt seeing Blue
in fear of mocking society .Even the scattered petals of
asters in the Graffiti pots once promised Blue to answer
to his every questions now if Blue asks them "why
others laugh at me when I put lipstick ?" They soon
turne into a post-apocalyptic dystopia .
In the day break elysian consciences kiss him leaving
back a puddle of ataraxia on his cheeks.
And the flag of our socially Darwinistic world soares high
in his midnight querencia when he secretly paints his lips
Society mocked at Blue,when he bravely said ,he is in
love with another Blue.
Society made him weaker than ever, and now when his
heart asks him about his feelings Blue says ~
This is for you Mir (@myrrhc) . I know I can't comprehend what you are going through, but it's bothering me too somehow........ Get back soon.... I'll be waiting to have cupcakes and cookies with you. Meg loves you ♡
Her rusted hair pins like a cappella of baritone hues in the wooden hollow along with other small fallen buttons, a piece of thread, still shines the best out of all .
Those woollen crocheted sweaters won't fit in anymore, still she prefers narrating me a fable under the blanket in winter nights. I have never asked her anyday why she passionately paints her nails in ebony and secretly tries my Fuschia shade on her lips.
She smiles over her folds and caresses them , for she is happy to make separate colonies on her wrinkled skin for "him" may be as grandpa conquered the whole territory of her heart. I don't laugh at her strange malapropism or else I would miss the chance then to draw points how to be better than perfect and in hiding her bruises probably "him" she was a complete Paragon .
She sits with paper balls to save the moths from the lizards on the wall and if it happens to be her favourite pin instead by a mere fault her gaze sets into a long term oblivion . Every time I sleep beside her she never forgets to leave a puddle of saliva on my dimpled cheeks, and then I wonder whom she loves the most.
On every weekend until the ice cream melts in porcelain bowls and until the choco chips get lolled on the brim of hot tea cups she will try different hairstyles out of her grey strands. Her teeth aren't red in tobacco although I find her nurturing poppies than those roses in the pots, she is well choreographed in wrapping betel nuts in two- three leaves and even if her pains slips off her mouth , it will never be "his" name that may create a dull thud.
And unconsciously, she runs, in between the knitted fabrics those pointed needles, to the roads where she refrained a sunflower from blooming at the cynosure, where her lost dalliance may keeps on patting her soft toes. Drops then get closely arranged in her folds, I dare not wipe those out as she might be enjoying her fika in an abditory.
Old memories creep through the walls and all over my legs back then she used to make me forget the red marks of those ants and and wiped my tears over broken dolls . I also get started like her, not to wipe but // : — — - — — — — .//(~)
Some colourful rubber bands and a ring she tries on fitting those round her pinky finger one after another and if I ever throw a "WH" shuttlecock she will pass it into a tacenda as if she tries to rate her as a biggest flâneur .
I often notice upon the wall clock in her room, it shows a perfect timing only two times a day and the rest of the day the hands rest over the same place.Wonder how? The clock hands has been stuck at 7:30 , only at 7:30 in the morn and at 7:30 in the eve an office going chap will not be misguided anyhow.
I won't compel her to say who was "he" but the dandelions and the poppies would blame me someday when only the flowers will smell like her on this earth.
Behind the hills somewhere in between where the sun comes out with octagon eyes everyday and the pine trees like a tarmac ribbon try hiding it's beauty beyond,this love bloomed like a wild rose there breaking the already potholed concrete all the more. The notions of romance pierce through the beautiful aura of the nature gushed in euphoria ; albeit it could never surpass.
Like the burning Orange ,Blues and Red of abandoned buildings sometimes comes up from under the Graffiti under heavy downpours the zigzag squirrel track on the mountains covered with boulders & stones cleared up and welcomed us to their paradise and we had a long night date there I hope you remember.
Can you see the Orion outlined by four bright stars at the corners of an imaginary trapezoid? And if our love is not meant forever then that trapezoid will take no time to become a Pentagon soon. Marks of my ebony petals circumscribing your circumference keep reminiscing me of the sharp clavicles. The whole of this parabolic dimension would be adorned with white garlands someday and the graveyard won't feel so cold , trust me cause I will come there to stay with you.
When the Northeast monsoon wind will deny moisture my wet bathrobe will promise you with that. And every numbed moles which play hide and seek all over my body I'll make you count them one by one , distracting you from counting the stars in the night sky passionately.
We really hold a low negativity threshold where we don't bottle up our feelings and the even little arguments have the least chance to run out of proportion. And I know our " Happily Ever After " won't be the conclusion, but the introduction to our journey of losing virginity itself. Until the iota runs out of negativity I promise to hold these hands of yours.
Puberty had cursed me years back and that's mistakenly what I called love then. Blondes of pink and Crimson aura of the sky didn't amaze me at that time.Then what did? Darling I was in love with the vintage filter you used and now I feel it was just a trap I stepped within.
A plethora of velvety valentine buds has bloomed in my balcony pots. With my every single salt dripping down they are assuring a guaranteed tomorrow. Sparrows are resting in the corner of a barn. They keep their promises and come back to their nest . How much shitty there nest maybe after all it's their own "HOME". My thoughts are all wonky now . A watercolour painting of a rainbow and a butterfly , old ladies laughing on the bench made out of bright pastels are much easier for me to think of. My gray matter is not getting sense out of those cubic figures on the wall anymore .
Memories of "PAPER PLANES" and " PAPER BOATS " didn't rust over my digital drawing world. Neither did it sink in mire of my scheduled life. I still remember folding papers. Rusting of our memories gained momentum , trust me I didn't notice when and now my soul has forgotten how to love you again. The zipper is already in transition and what's the use of the sweatshirt now? I was unaware of the woodworms larking hungrily over your gifted guitar and the rusted strings barely now makes any sound. Another conjunctiva has turned crimson today . Now I wish to be the ORION in the night sky (your favourite one)
I have worn on noose out of your memories and I'll happily do a rivalry with the gravity to dissolve with the November's transpiration tonight. This ebony lips never lied until a sudden rancour chased my love for you through my veins . I know this night sobbing of my restless mind will surpass the rattling of dishes . And those promises hanging out there were dropped into oblivion then, I can realize (I was smaller then)
Synovial fluid has dried out , the only tangent ball-and-socket ( you and me ) joint shared is running out . What about the void then? Let it be filled with your untold hatred now, I implore. If it's meant to be loyal for the last time , I'll confess with whom I moved on , won't you say he sings :
"We sit in bars and raise our drinks to growing old Oh, I'm in love with you and you will never know But if I can't have you I'll walk this life alone Spare you the rising storms and let the rivers flow **** Pack up and leave everything Don't you see what I can bring Can't keep this beating heart at bay Set my midnight sorrow free I will give you all of me Just leave your lover, leave him for me Leave your lover, leave him for me Leave your lover, leave him for me" ~ Sam Smith
I can't write anymore my vision is getting fuzzy,I have given up all cause you know a crumpled rose can give nothing but a foul smell to the room occupying the space of the vase.
//There is something I will never tell you, this is the something, this is for you//
I write letters, I wrote over a hundred of letters already. I write letters whenever my heart breaks, the ink fall in the paper and make a sound louder than my breaking heart. I write until the ink gets totally wasted, and my heart leaves a sigh. Then I wrap it with a parchment and seal it with rusted flowers that I picked up from the graveyard everytime I walked past it. Then I put the stamps and label on top "To, Sky", and leave it in the bag until I visit the graveyard again. When I visit the graveyard again, I collect some more rusted flowers, pairs of old cards and a bit of sand and leave the letter beside "the newest shining gravestone". When I have done this, it feels like I have buried the old broken heart. I go back and I water some plants. Then I write a bit of old songs on my grandfather's journal and I sleep. The song gets rusted by the time I open it again. I tear the page and I walk to the graveyard again. I pick some flowers, and I sit down to write in the old cafe beside the graveyard which is named "We met here". // The owner of the cafe once said me that he met her wife the first time on the graveyard, he saw her planting a rose plant a bit away from a newest shining graveyard and he fell in love. After she died, he built her gravestone beside the rose plant and named it "the newest shining gravestone". It's been years and the stone never rusted, the plant still gives flowers and I collect the rusted flowers that falls down. // Then I go and meet the owner and I give him the page that reads the old song, he smiles and keeps it. I come back and I water some more plants to the garden. And then it rains, and you smile. I know you have read it. But this story, I know you won't ever read, I won't ever let you read, but this is for you.
From The keeper of the new shining gravestone.
P. S. The newest old song I wrote on the journal was hasi.
One glass of milk served with crushed almonds My mother would say That this is the homemade remedy For enhancing one's intelligence and memory Memories, sometimes are like diluted milk You could almost taste the water in the sip But then you are no swan You couldn't separate the water from the milk The first time you came across a tiktok video That asked what would women do If man disappeared for 24 hours And almost every reply was a plea To the utopia one's privilege creates Or now when your father rambles on How men suffer the most in arranged marriages Or how much he hates n number of habits of your mother or how he shares WhatsApp jokes Of modern day Shiva being agonised by Parvati Or the time he calls you in as a referee To pick on every single flaw of your mother But you stay quiet cause it's humour You stay quiet not silent because the first and the last time you spoke You were called sensitive or worse with poor taste of humour So when Ma handed you a glass of hot milk With crushed almonds and said that Education was the only way to freedom You gulped it down ignoring the burns Savoring the taste of Horlicks, Bournvita Or Complan if you are that picky as you read the chapter on your English textbook called Ranga's marriage On the narrator's character Oh what a wonderful matchmaker he was His words were like arrows of Kama Dev Piercing into the hearts of the readers Until mine bled not The only band-aid was the thought that If you spoke again your voice is counted as I-N-T-O-L-E-R-A-N-C-E
P.S- I slightly hate everything I write P.P.S- I'm not back. Treat this as a guest visit P.P.P.S- I always read all your lovely and beautiful comments but it's impossible for me to respond to them all because of the time restraints I have but thank you
Initially I thought of crafting something creative and jaw-dropping for you, but then I sticked to the thought of simplicity, a letter, with an acrostic.
//S//rupulous attention , an eye of care, with a melange of //A//mbitiousness ,the skill and spirit to reach the Sky //D//estined to unfurl beauty from The Sun's hearth In the garden of melancholy, //R//ampant jolliness in words and juggernaut Optimism in heart, //I//lluminous like a full moon,bright as it is, //T//riumphant in life,in disasters and in mind, Like an //A//glow in the heart of darkness,made to live , Live with mirth ,and contentment...
(My words may not be appeasing enough,but my feelings of gratitude, love , concern and friendliness are much more competent.) This day marks the birth of one of the most significant figures in my life and uk, this month marks our first meet ,our first conversation and first gesture of goodwill towards each other. Life has been very harsh sometimes to you,but the way you withstood those brutal winds of destruction and your capacity to retain a plethora of anguish and disappointment with life,has inspired me deep down so badly that I started considering you as an idol. I've always thought of you as a friend I can always rely on,to share,to gossip ,to nag at ,what not. If @mirakee has given me anything in my life, it's you. Not just an inspiration in life,you inspired me in poetic gesture too. Your skillls at art,poetry,prose ,bg design (a very essential one uk what I mean) all have left me in awe. Your poetries inspired me , prompted me to write more delicately,more effectively. It's not just this all. With you,the passage of time never mattered much, even nothing else much mattered. Those senseless sticker fights, late night gossips , sorrowful stories and ROFL chats never bored me, something that I cherish a lot. Not a day passes, without you, without your talks. We may live miles afar, but it never matters. By the end of the day,I've got someone to talk who never disappoints me. Like some stardust from the eternal world fell over me someday like a blessing in disguise.
You have received bouquets and brickbats both and know the epistemology of life. And hence my confidence in you says that "Every 17th March will mark the birth of a new Sadrita, fierce,bold , independent and more beautiful."
Life is full of disappointments , preceded by disbelieves but always remember that a person with true conscience wins in the battle for survival. Always remain the same,as bright as Sun , as cherry as jasmine, as beautiful as pearls ,as homogenous as yourself. Don't you dare -even for an instant- to think that you don't 'deserve' or need all of the good things coming your way. You deserve the best of everything and shouldn't feel shy to ask for it or welcome it with open arms. May you celebrate all your birthdays with me, virtually or realistically... GOD BLESS ALWAYS.
//"This 16th year of my life was really so adventurous. It was a potpourri of happiness and heartbreak"// ~ SADRITA
Dear, Re"load'nt smile //tunes with birds dancing on ballads and fluttering by haikus// I wish i could,loop the days like the songs on playlist i often hear with mudane thoughts and somlonent words,as for today you were born,with softer bones,and piouness on glimpse you see the world! When its about you,its endless like sky above me,it never runs away nor hides but shades itself in hues,and so different every day,you are not the blue sky,nor the yellow happy sunset,for me you are purple,purple that symbolises nobility,wealth, extravagance, creativity, wisdom, dignity, grandeur, devotion, peace, pride, mystery, independence, and magic.For me purple is you,and everything in you is magic!love is the pupke sky,noble and endless . And the thrunder of independence,and the brimming eyes with pride,that comes in devotion when someone from heaven smiles,and aurora says ,today I'll write you,your name from cloud nine in abstract where I sketched you in cresent of moon,a part of is always mystery yet it smiles" like heart that freshly walked in serendipity.Chatoyant glitter that you bloom in creativity,are the hopeful stars and the other falling for others wish is your dignity!i see the dark night as a moving silhoutte that i gaze,and see the lunar eclipse and chase the smile,and then comes to a kid the resides in you,often i seek for bubbly nose,,scorning with smell of lavender,when the gaily humanity is after poppies and roses,and orchids in love.it dissapears like butterfly on bonti nose ,chases the zephyr of bloomed lily and lavender beyong spring when withers autumn and then frost november! Your eyes are closed closet or a riddled chronicle,like child craddled under warmth of breezy sun,lashes wet on drizzled driblet of love,and the slihotte is black without glimpse of dark! Those black bordered night has lips chaped as for beauty held in scars of moon,its smirks and smiles!
And when i paint you in purple canvas patching the black silhoutte over it with redolent smile,packed with summer blossomed lavender,and glittered mistfit of stars,wrapped around a few of thousand love poems unsunged and memories undone,with a red ribbon of prestigious harmony knoted with faithful promises:send you the portryal in peace with a flock of peigons,will you unbox the present, to sing the unsung poems and Live the moments for undone memories?
With love, Nida. ________________________________________________________A very happy birthday Sadrita di,me loves uh a lotz,and may everthing you want the sky brings,don't kill me for leaving:p @redolent_smile Ps:-purple coz it symbolises her perfectly,silhoutte with smile cuz am in love with her smile,and lavender coz summer born,and summer bloomed!and to be honest i have searched for her like relod,then i find nothing and then i correct the word to find her,her purple post is my fav,i first read and met her in that comment section:'))
// Sundar sundar vo haseena badi, Sundar sundar, Main to khone laga uske nashe main Bin piye behakaa // We were singing aloud in sink like we were exerting our frustration out of our body in the form of this song, we were so much in moment, if someone asked us to something daring we would have been done it, we had so much of adrenaline rush in our body. When song was complete we looked at eachother and high-fived eachother like we did something big in our life we completed some goal, though it was just a song but we had fulfilled some goals. We didn't propose to eachother as in we didn't said we are in relationship but we were understanding eachother very well, hanging out after work, planning weekend to go out, we were living with eachother but there were no compulsion to it, it was more of like we are vibing with eachother. After completing the song, I looked to her, she rolled down window of car and was enjoying slow winds passing through her face, wind which was making her hairs dance on their direction, her eyes were watching the living side of road which was making me feel like she is about to kiss wind and ask them to pass it on for someone who is in need of that love. She was so happy, she was so lively that she forgot she was having cramps few minutes back. Few hours ago, we were talking on call and suddenly she said "I fucking hate it when I have periods on such a good day, I want to go out, it is so sunny, I want to dress well, I want to enjoy this time and I am so much of pain right now, like so much that I can kill someone to get rid of this pain, please god take this pain away". I stopped and gave a thought and asked "shall we go out? Don't get ready, let's go out for a ride, wear your payjama, you really look beautiful in it, I am bringing chocolates and some pastries for you, I will be there in 20 minutes, just wash your face and come out of your flat, we are rolling baby" she was shook after listening to this , with low tone she replied "okay" and I cut the call, went out and started doing chores to make her feel good, spraying room spray in car, getting fresh warm pillow for her, went out and bought things for her and reached her place, called her down. She was looking so beautiful and perfect with sleepy face, I hugged her when she came out, she was smelling so good,feels like I went to garden full of flowers where water is just sprinkled over muddy ground, and sun is hidden behind white clouds. She kissed me on cheeks and said "you smell good" and then we went out for the ride. We were enjoying this thing between us, there was no rule of being fabricated with looks and being smart ass in front of eachother, we were more of like cute kids walking around and exploring ourselves, I was really enjoying her company, she was so perfect so perfect, how can even someone think of breaking this heart,I was her escape from the reality of stuck with someone else thoughts and also I was searching for something in my life, she came in my life like a missing puzzle pieces, she completed my puzzle of love, but I felt like we are perfect for eachother for some reason or other. I was really seeing my future with this person but taking everything very slow like very slow like very very slow. She rolled up windows took my mobile and changed song to very slow soft song, then she looked at me with little shyness and came up to me kissed me on my cheeks, this happened so sudden that I didn't get any idea what just happened. She took my other hand and kissed it slowly, and she was kissing all over it and suddenly she bite me on the hand like she was known to this drill, like she was already ready to do it like she took my hand not to kiss it but to bite it, that bite was so sudden that it gave me little shock of something happened in hand like a lion put his teeth in hand and it is going to tear it. I took my hand away from her by looking at her in anger like what you are doing? She gave me sad look, the sad look, that will melt anyone, that look can melt down glaciers, and that look made me put my hand back to its place, like I am giving you my hand, use my hand as you like, she was so happy to see that, she kissed me again on my cheeks and this time she didn't bite my hand but put it over heads n made me pat her like when we pat a kid when they do something good, this thing made me smile, It made me so happy that I parked my car, and kissed her, kissed her like I haven't kissed anyone from years, like someone put drugs on her lips making me addict to it, she stopped for few seconds took few deep breaths and we kissed again, this kiss was so intimate with love and happiness that we forgot that we were still on the road. I opened her hairs again which she tucked few minutes after rolling up window, her hairs were soft, which was placing all our faces, I played with her hairs, they were smelling so good, I was getting drugged with this smell, I was becoming addicted to this smell, I want it, I want it more, I want have it more and more. We were back on the road, we were heading back to her place, both were getting hungry, we went to her place, ordered pizza. I went so many times to this house, but I always find it amusing everytime whenever I go, it has smell of hers, like essence of her all over the place, she maintained her house so well, there was one white dream catcher in living room, I don't know why but I find it so beautiful in that place, dream catchers are always been beautiful but this was one was different like it came from the real feathers of a white bird who has its existence only in heaven like it is so beautiful. I was so much in thought of it that i forgot she was calling me. We went to her balcony, last time we bought chairs, to seat in balcony like a restaurant with open view place to enjoy, it was place, we decorated it with ligths and small plants and wooden floor, it looks so good to seat there especiallyat night, we can see a lot of places as she was living on top floor, we had really great view of outside, it was really great idea of mine to do this. We had pizza and wine like a date over a big five star place. Before leaving I said "I love this place very much, it feels like I also want to stay here, actually I want to stay with you" she looked at me with a smile and said "NO" . We both laughed and I went back to my place. At night she messaged me "thank you very much for this day, I really wanted to go out and enjoy it, wish I could stay forever with you and forever and ever"
Your ‘home sweet home’ is so cozy and wonderful , A place where your tiny yet stubborn legs learnt to stand and walk for the first time, You smiled, jumped and hopped , Your contagious laugh echoing through those walls. The first time when your pulpy cute fingers painted messy drawings on those walls, Those walls which never fail to make you feel nostalgic, Nostalgic and good memories are something that made you strong, “ Strong , You're strong, ” when they said , You shook your little head in refusal And in your baby voice you replied, “Hey!” “ When was I stlong ? My father always protects me which is why I don't need to be stlong in any view. ” You're such a dumbass, aren't you ?
When you were matured and heard those different voices lingering in your head, You waited for your father to control those monsters that were made, That were made from the one and the very same drawings that you drew on those walls of your own, Yes ! You began to suffocate at your same ‘ home sweet home. ’ You waited for him , right ? “ Why didn't he come ? ” , you asked When deep inside you already knew he is long gone And he is not going to hug you tonight...
You're such a dumbass , aren't you ? You knew the truth since years , right ? You were so numb that you were unable to accept it in any view. But eventually when reality kicked in , Your heart sank, Your heart pounding as if it's going to come out of your chest, Finally , you knelt on your knees and let your guards down, You cried , your hands being drenched with sweat and tears, Unknown emotions mingling with your excruciating fears. You cried , that day you cried , cried but immediately shut your mouth with your same pulpy fingers, So that nobody at your ‘ sweet home ’ knows you're so fragile , And what happens next ? Then you began to laugh like a maniac, And that's a surprise ! Because you knew it's the time to show those betrayals their place, You knew it's the best time to make him happy , And the only way to do that ... Is to be happy.
You feel so weak at your own home sweet home But at the same time, Again for the first time , You learnt to stand up on those weak yet stubborn legs While your contagious laugh was echoing through those damn walls Wiith your tear strained face , Just like it happened when you were a child But there's a huge contrast, For you're alone this time And you very well know that.
Aah ! That amalgamation of your tears and that bloody firm smile filled with determination make you look so dangerously beautiful , my love . Do you even have any clue ? And you ask me , “ When was I strong ? ” You're such a dumbass , aren't you ?