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  • whitewings 21h

    I've learned that sometimes the toughest and most painful decisions are the right ones. They might not make you happy, might even rob you of your peace... but they'll leave you feeling lighter. Like a burden was removed from your shoulders. I've learned that loneliness is the price you pay to save your dignity, self esteem and integrity. I've learned that sitting alone in your room at night, crying yourself to sleep... is sometimes so much better than laughing in the company of people who you know do not support your dreams and growth. I've learned that I might or might not be able to fulfill all of my dreams... but I'll fight all my life, to preserve my right to dream.

    ©whitewings

  • whitewings 3d

    न जाने चाय बनाते वक्त क्यों याद आते हो तुम। जबकि हमने साथ में न तो कभी चाय पी है, और न ही बनाई है। रोटियाँ बनाते वक्त तुम्हारा याद आना फिर भी समझ आता है। आखिर कितनी ही रातें परेशान हुई हूँ मैं, जब तुमने कहा कि दफ़तर से लौट कर तुम्हें ठंडी और सख्त रोटियाँ खानी पड़ी। हर बार ख्याल आता है, न जाने आज तुम्हें ताज़ी और नर्म रोटियाँ मिली होंगी या नहीं। मगर तभी अचानक तवे से, कभी कोई उँगली जल जाती है, तो कभी कोई रोटी। और न चाहते हुए भी, मुझे अपने ख्यालों की दुनिया से लौट कर, हकीकत में आना पड़ता है। हकीकत... जिसमें तुम मेरे नहीं हो। हकीकत... जिसमें हमारे बीच सिर्फ सड़कों की ही नहीं, दिलों की भी दूरियाँ हैं। जिसमें हमारे बीच गलतफ़हमियाँ, बंदिशें और न जाने कितने ही पहरे, कितनी ही सरहदें हैं। मैं आखिरी रोटी सेक कर, एक बार खिड़की से बाहर झाँकती हूँ, चाँद को तुम्हारा ख्याल रखने कह कर, चाय डालने के लिए कप निकालती हूँ।

    ©whitewings

  • whitewings 4d

    It seems to me at times, that creation filled women with all the motherly love, the power and responsibility to create and nurture... and left men hollow. There's an emptiness in a man's life without the nourishing love of a woman... or at least a touch of things that are feminine and gentle... like beauty, art, romance. In sheer helplessness and bewilderment, he goes on craving for and chasing whatever could fulfill this lack in him. He clings to one night stands, goes on penetrating one woman after another... even to the extent of stealing from her by coerced or forced physical intimacy. Resorting to violence and abuse against her because she has, what he lacks. A hollow man leaves a woman drained. He sucks at her soul. Instead of being the provider, the protector... he keeps feeding off her motherly love. And wanders off to another, when she's thoroughly depleted.

    ©whitewings

  • whitewings 4d

    It should've been hate. Not now... but years ago. Nonchalance did me no good. Forgiveness brought me peace but didn't stop it from happening again. And now that it did... all I have is my thoughts and my heart... sitting with me like old friends... trying their best to make sense, of whatever happened, back then... and now.

    ©whitewings

  • whitewings 4d

    How am I supposed to love you, when my heart no longer knows, how to trust. How should I convince myself to pick the little universe of silence that I've rebuilt after it was ransacked, ravaged and ruined... and place it in your palm. How should I ever sleep in peace in your arms, or lie next to you... with total surrender and trust. I've been awake all my life, guarding myself, my soul, my dreams. It is in my lonely that I feel safer than I do with you.

    ©whitewings

  • whitewings 1w

    Inspired by the latest post of @pramodh
    Thank you for sharing your thoughts and talent with us here :)

    Read More

    Messy palettes are beautiful. Raw and vulnerable. No pretensions. Colors merging into each other, just how it is in nature. They tell the story of the artist, the journey of the brush... how it moved from one stroke to another. Messy palettes, like messy people... do not need rectification... but touch of love.

    ©whitewings

  • whitewings 1w

    I buried us in pieces.
    There's no one grave
    where I could go and sit and weep,
    reminiscing the bygone times.
    I buried a piece in every place
    I had taken you to,
    along with me...
    even when you were miles away,
    in some other city.
    I buried pieces on roads and highways,
    under trees
    whose shade felt like your embrace.
    I buried a piece on trains
    and flights and in cabs,
    where you had accompanied me.
    I've scattered us in too many places.
    And I did it on purpose...
    so that never in my life,
    even if I'd want to,
    I'd be able to collect them all
    and go back to being
    the person I used to be.

    ©whitewings

  • whitewings 1w

    Waiting for him,
    is a woman at home...
    with a home cooked meal
    and his favorite dessert for dinner.
    She has changed the curtains,
    to his favorite color.
    The cushions too today,
    are smiling from ear to ear.
    She hums, she sings
    as she takes multiple trips
    from the kitchen to the dining table...
    putting the cups and plates,
    the flowers and candles,
    everything in place.
    And she waits,
    hovering from the window to the door,
    like she did yesterday...
    and day before yesterday.
    Like she has been doing,
    for months now.
    Anxiously looking at the clock,
    petting the sleeping cat and dog.
    By midnight tears begin to smudge
    the kohl in her eyes.
    Once again, it's one of those nights...
    she'll sleep with questions puzzling her mind.
    And hopefully by morning he will arrive...
    tired, not from work...
    but the effort it takes
    to come up with
    consistent and convincing lies.

    ©whitewings

  • whitewings 2w

    Forever is made of tears
    that weren't used to extinguish
    the flames of passion
    but to nourish and nurture
    the seed of love.

    ©whitewings

  • whitewings 2w

    For some strange reason, I never thought I'd live this long. And therefore I have no plans for the age I am currently in. Or the time that lies ahead. I wasn't supposed to be here until now. But I am... walking through the density around me, like a molecule of void.

    ©whitewings