Snap Monday #1

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lately, I’ve developed a love for photography. Capturing everyday beauty, anything that makes me smile. Anything that sets a brighter tone to my day.

Some color to keep you going through the week! 🙂

Much love ❤

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Bitter Love

You taught me about:

Love that knows nothing.

Half and incomplete.

Feelings that are fleeting.

Transient and shallow.

Tears that are momentary.

Meaningless and unworthy.

Respect that is absent.

Given but never received.

Peace that feels like a war within.

Contradictory and trash.

 

You taught me so much,

about feelings, respect, peace, and love! Bitter Love.

Sunset

My evenings are dreamy these days. While I’m on a break, I have all the time in the world to steal a sunset as I sip my evening coffee.

I remember, a month back I was deep into my office routine. I left early one day and it was then I realized that I hadn’t seen a sunset in a while.

Here is a picture of the sun setting behind the giant Gulmohar in my garden.

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Weekly Photo Challenge: Rise/Set

Stay

I laugh.

I laugh way too hard at your lame jokes.

The funny thing being, it’s all so damn real.

 

A wide grin lingers on my lips…

 

I see how your eyes soften when you watch me smile.

And for the first time,

I want to stay.

Yes, for you…I will stay.

Certainty

Certainty.

Why do you crave for it so much? So bad?

Another day isn’t promised. You know that.

Don’t you?

You want to be certain about the next twenty years of your life.

Don’t you see it?

Life never sticks to the plan.

It has a tendency to wander; to stray.

Why are you up at 3 am? Again. Tell me.

Speculating your choices, over and over?

Cursing yourself, are you?

Those seeds of doubt you’ve been planting for years,

aren’t you afraid that you’d be lost in the dark wilderness that they’ll grow into?

You need the warmth of the sun.

Let the rays shine through.

Build, for sure. But live more.

Doubt when needed. But believe more.

Uncertainty is inevitable.

Why the fuss? the stars would say.

They’ll laugh out loud on your ways.

Give this universe a chance. Will you?

Maybe, it’s directionless too.

 

 

 

Mediocre

I want the kind of love that puts a ‘damn’ in front of a simple ‘I love you’.

The kind that takes your breath away,

and puts a ‘God!!’ in front of an honest ‘I don’t want to live without you’.

 

While I am on the drill;

I want to steal misty sunsets with you.

Sip coffee under the rising moon,

my head resting on your shoulder.

 

I want to hold your gaze from across the room,

while we are laughing our lungs out.

I want to steal beer breathed kisses in the kitchen,

while we take more food out.

 

I want to fight and scream at you,

for driving me crazy the way you do.

Honey, then I want to feel you smiling

when I hug you tight.

 

So many mediocre things in life,

I want our love to feel unreal,

every once a while.

 

In response to the prompt #mediocre

The reality of an idealist

Strong morals.

He was an idealist. A perfect one.

Won’t sway, won’t divert.

What’s the right thing to do? He’d ask himself all the time.

And that’d be it.

His morals rested on a cold boulder.

There was nothing he ached for so much, that it could corrupt him.

Such righteousness! Does it sound pitiful to you?

Do you doubt it’s existence? Like I do.

Is it human, to not feel love and desire so strong that you’d be ready to sway for its sake, if not more…once?

I wonder.

Pushpa

“In the year 1925 in Lahore, India, the joyous Berry family was blessed with a baby girl. They named her Pushpa (meaning flower). The kind of love Professor Aloknath Berry showered on her little princess was out of bounds. He wanted her to read and to blossom into an independent woman. As a little girl, Pushpa would read books to her father and before she could finish one she’d ask for more; “Would you get me a new one tomorrow, baba?” the answer was always a yes.

Being born in a liberal and affluent family she was raised right. Pushpa valued what she was blessed with. Growing up, when her friends were burdened with household work, she went on to pursue a degree in English literature from the Lahore university.

Times were tough, with the rise of the Indian Freedom Movement things were restless and the growing political tension among the leaders tore India apart. Political rivalry budded and before people could realize they had to pick sides. The heavily charged communal atmosphere and the deep distrust between the religious communities took Aloknath Berry away in the bloody violence of 1947. Fear and hate filled the hearts of millions and Berry family was one among them.

Pushpa, a shattered and torn young girl, crossed the border to the refugee camps in Delhi with her mother Janki. Fear and loss concreted in her tender heart. Days felt like years in the unwelcoming and harsh city. She would often wake up in the middle of the night to the screams of her mother. She’d close her eyes and pictures of mobs burning her home down, baba screaming with pain, his coat on fire, asking her to run for her life would come alive. She would reach for the golden watch under her pillow and hold it close to her heart.

“Keep this with you and keep going, just like it does. You know what to do when it stops” baba had said.

“Wind it with love and courage and keep going, tick-tock” she’d whisper to herself each night.

It was the only piece of baba that she was left with. She’d wind the watch and hear it ticking away.

Like that, days ticked away. They moved to Ludhiana where Janki found a job in a local library. Pushpa went ahead and completed her education. Her mother could not stay away from baba for long, her illness took her away quickly. Pushpa met a man at the university, married him. Moved to a small town in Madhya Pradesh and started a beautiful family with him.”

As I put the last full stop above, I look across the room. I see her sitting by the window, sipping tea, reading The Sound of the Wind; that’s Pushpa, my grandmother. Just yesterday she gave me the golden watch, I have it on my arm this moment. She says I am just like her. Young and vibrant.

Tick-tock, I’ll go by the watch grandma. Just like you.

 

*I wrote this story for a project. The characters and events are fictional but inspired by true events*

Fireworks

I see you across the hall,

your eyes glittering with laughter.

Your laugh melts into a wide lingering smile.

That smile!!

No, I haven’t fallen for a smile before.

 

I see you across the hall,

your silk-like hair flopping over your eyes.

Those eyes!!

Yes, I reckon I’m falling for your eyes.

 

I see you across the hall,

being simply the person that you are.

God! You!

No, I haven’t fallen for anyone this way before.

 

I see you walking towards me from across the hall,

you lean in and whisper to your friend.

I hope you’d be talking about me.

But I don’t exist in your world.

 

You pass by me brushing my shoulder,

filling me with child-like nervousness.

Oh, how I wish our worlds would collide.

We’d be like fireworks you’d see.

 

In response to the prompt: #Collide

Star Ablaze

I veered off the trail. Just yesterday.

I’d been suffering, walking on it.

Following the dim star.

So I woke up and decided not to go after it anymore.

It scares me now, a little.

It’s gone. The star I never loved.

It’s dark and I can see tracks no more.

But I know I’ll keep walking.

There is more to belief than just light.

More to me than following a dying star.

I guess I’ll be my own light.

I’m ablaze within.

Enough to be my own dazzling star.