Tag Archives: writers

With hope.

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Up until now I did maintain my narrative: “Delhi is a deranged city where people are devoid of looking at stars. Such absolute shame!” but in an over populated, over-crowded and over polluted city like Delhi, if, after a soft drizzle, you keep looking deep into the sky, have a little patience, clear your eyes and make sky your only love for some time; you can see stars twinkling. Though just three or four but you sure will!

This reminds me of a concept that I might have forgotten and kept locked in the darkest drawer of my congested, busy and dark life: Hope. It reminds me how we ought to have hope no matter what.

I read it somewhere that it is very difficult for anyone to strip off hope from the consciousness of an ordinary man. Because really what are ordinary and common people like us left with if not Hope? We can hope for far fetched fictions to turn into beautiful realities. We can Hope for a white rose in a cold desert. We can Hope for anything and everything. So why don’t we? Have we so lost ourselves in the hum-drum of this world that we have suddenly stopped believing?

Once upon a time I hoped of owning a room full of chocolates, so many that they would never end no matter how many I ate. I believed in the hope that if after a power cut I close my eyes long enough and then open them, the light bulb will glow. I believed in so many hopes. Though nothing like that happened but I can have a job and buy as many chocolates as I want. We passed years and my family could afford an inverter. Hopes become realities but only if we believe in them.

I know this is a far fetched concept and that for many hope is hoping against hope but man oh man, if I and you, the weirdest miracles of nature can live and walk this mighty earth, then anything is possible. Even Hope!

I would like to believe…

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I would like to believe that I am a goddess, not that it is allowed in our religion or there is anything like that, but I would still like to believe this absurd fact that I am a goddess. Why does it seem so inappropriate to you, like you want to laugh your guts out? Well if I look at the fact, i can make stars appear and disappear. I can make people fall in love with me. I can make awesome cold coffee and great friends. I have the body of a goddess and face like Helen of Troy, Faustus has spoken to me in my dreams and said, “Was this the face that launch‘d a thousand ships, / And burnt the topless towers of Ilium.” And I have always vehemently agreed with him.

There is so much in this world that is non-existent to others but to your eyes it is a yet another beautiful universe enfolding its colorful petals. Others might laugh at you, “Are you serious? Have you gone nuts? There is something wrong with you? Weird!” And so many things. But hey, how does it matter? Well I have managed to laugh at all these things. I tell them, “Dude, you can kiss my ass!”

I believe in what I know, at least for me my belief is authentic. It doesn’t need anyone’s legitimization or approval, I know about the things that I believe in. So, I do believe that I am a goddess, I can make anything happen but hey do you think proclaiming ones self a goddess is sacrilegious? Well bless you, you cant even catch a metaphor.

So what do you think, can you make stars appear and disappear? Oh come on, close your eyes and open them again. See, you are a goddess too, you just need to believe in what your heart tells you. Because believe me, hearts never lie. You need to believe the way the muscles of your heart align themselves when they look at something. You need to believe in fairies too, isn’t your mother or your best friend one? Well I would like to believe so, would you?

Just Write!

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Since days i have been contemplating to write, write to free myself from all the chains that held me back. I think i have quite lost my touch with writing. For many reading is a voracious habit but i have always found myself a bit distant from that great habit. Reading is a great way to put your monsters at rest or maybe for sometime put them in different dungeons. Reading announces us to so many different universes at the same time that we loose touch with the train of thoughts that keeps riding and riding and riding. I, myself, find calm in writing, an elite habit i guess or what i like to call it. But since centuries i have indulged in writing poetry that sometimes i think prose must be given a revision.

Over years i have tried to maintain diaries only to burn them at the end and have had the habit of writing letters to people i love but have always regretted sending them away. Now, since 4 months i have been wandering the streets of busy Delhi and thinking that these streets, devoid of emotions, call for some prose. I wish something, anything, could get all this monstrosity out of my mind, the kind that consumes me day in and day out but then i remember a wise saying, “What cannot be cured, must be endured!”

So I am back, now with less poems and more prose. Maybe i can make sense of things by writing long paragraphs with distorted meaning or maybe I might find rest. Who knows? But i guess it is all worth trying; TO JUST WRITE!

FOREVER…

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When silence spreads around my mind,
A short calmness with cries echoes
Your name repeated like a verse untouched
My breaths conspire against my breaths.
Like a flower waiting for that life-giving dawn
I long each day for the dew of your love.
With freckles around my neck and feet
I shudder like a fish deprived of water. 
I wonder if you ever would know this pain?
I wonder if you would ever cross my way?
This world is so small and roads connected
yet I wonder why don’t our roads cross?
This waking dawn and setting sun
leave me with stories so long,
with no you to share them with
they seem like haunting me all.
I could have asked for you in my prayers,
but I know you were never meant for me.
With all these broken pieces in the lap of my life
I will wait for you until the end and forever.

||Inkofmysoul||