Showing posts with label love hurt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label love hurt. Show all posts

Sunday, January 6, 2019

Teesta... A longing heart for Darjeeling


The messenger clouds carry a bagful of sad messages,
The sad heart turns into fog
And the restless heart turns into Teesta...

The sad messages come to the land of hills and forests
In square boxes;
Please let the heart stay as it is,
As it reads the sad messages enthusiastically...

The clouds carry a map to guide the messenger clouds,
And the twisting roads lead to his house surrounded by gardens.
At the end of the garden lies the main gate
And the rocking chair in the Verandah...

A small strip of sun ray falls on the carpet laid on the bed
The messenger cloud empties his bags there.
The messenger clouds carry a bagful of sad messages,
The sad heart turns into fog
And the restless heart turns into Teesta...


Thursday, May 31, 2018

Music in my Playlist


The music as it flows into ears, puts into a slumber where eyes are awake; but the mind has taken a leap into memories.

Memories unfold, as if someone has played a movie on VHS; and characters have started their play, some good and some bad.

I don’t see myself, but I see I lived those moments; having whirled and danced on the tunes as if somebody made me do so.

Each track on the playlist, bears a story of its own; stories that I wanted to write my way but were re-tailored by the destiny.

Saturday, December 30, 2017

His life as a Shadow

His life as a shadow… The part of his life which wandered to find its existence in light. Each day, with the Sun in the sky, he was there, with its intensity dependent on the gleaming source of light. He crossed by every road, and people kept the distance, afraid of their sacred quintessence to get polluted. The shadow knew the only sacred quintessence that ever existed in this world was Love. The love in people’s heart would never intersect the path that shadow followed. The shadow would contemplate, over-think, and when he could no longer conclude a definite reason, he would get drowned in glasses of darkness.

He felt safer there, in those glasses of darkness, as darkness numbed his feelings and prevented him to seek Love. Love is a thirst for him, to be loved, to be embraced in warmth of arms, to be felt over the hearty bosom. But who could have explained him, that shadows can never be embraced, they can never be hugged… While the cat’s crossing the road before sanity of love in people’s heart is blamed a bad omen, the shadow’s urge to be loved was treated as a disease, that potentially had the efficacy to disturb the balance of love in the world.

The shadow had a theory, that this world is fixated on one of the pan of a universal balance, on the other pan sits love. This universal balance is under control of the almighty, and love is a blessing that the almighty has gifted people with. Love in each of the people’s heart accumulated together, in form of a big ball, sits on the other pan of the universal balance and maintains the scale to neutral position. If ever someone shared their love with the shadow, the scale of this balance will fluctuate, and the pan where this world sits will be endangered. People don’t wish that to happen, and want to keep their home safe.

The shadow questioned himself, if sharing love with him endangered the world’s existence on the balance, then why not grow more love, the extra part, and make that for the parched shadow. He couldn’t find the answer, and he soaked himself in the glass of darkness to relax, to numb his senses and feelings.
The shadow feels himself complete in the darkness, healed, and relaxed. Though still thirsty, but he feasts on the never ending darkness, instead of Love that he longs for. The light discriminates him, for the odd that he has within. This is the story of his life as a 'Shadow'.


(Image Courtesy : Google Images Search)

Friday, December 11, 2015

Breached

I watched her, enwrapped in the impeccant laughter, and met those dimples on her cheeks.
The depth of ocean seemed short, when my eyes apparently glued onto hers.
I knew her hand from mine will never get away, as she existed for me beyond promises.

Until one day, when I realized my arms never ever existed. I was born armless.

Friday, June 26, 2015

Brain-sick's Diary #6 | Conundrum


In the lucid smile, there is a not so lucid story.
A story of coming of age… A story so confused in itself to be narrated…
Silence prevails, in attempts to unravel the mystery,
Of looking inside, of looking within.
And what is apprehensible? It’s the outside world…
The world that eyes witness.
Doubt prevails, when eyes assume to have found the truth.
In situations so common, why emotions are anarchical.
Emotions fabricated from love… Emotions fabricated from loss of love.
Silence prevails, in attempts to unravel the mystery,
Of looking inside, of looking within.


Sunday, March 15, 2015

Healed into a Flower...

Love is auspicious. May be it is, or maybe I don’t know about it. But there was a time when I used to think about it strongly. I believed love would flutter its wings and take me to the fairyland. I knew of a fairy who lived there. Be it day, or night, my dreams would be occupied with my fairy in it. An angel whose beauty makes everyone jealous of, she would smile and happiness would start to flow. When she speaks, it muses the heart and soul of every person that exists on this earth. From the chippering of birds in the morning sky, to songs of nightingale at night, all of them seemed lighter in contrast with the voice of that fairy. And that fairy was mine. So foolish of me to think this now, but then it was not at all a joke for me. She was in my class. And I would sit beside her, always smiling for her, because she complimented that I look world’s cutest when I smile.

‘Rohan, it has been two years now, I see you as a kid. You haven’t grown up. You are still that school going child. I cannot live with a kid.’ 

It was my first year in college, and she called me to say all these. We were not together; I mean I had to go to college in a different state, while she stayed in her hometown. The physical absence of ours also started to make the space for love shorter between us. Love? I doubt if I should say this. I learned about it later that she was already having an affair with other boy from our school. She made excuse about me having a kiddish temperament. And I suppose he had all the manly traits, which certainly I missed.

‘Ok. If you are happy with this, its fine. I don’t have anything to say in it then.’ Tears rolled down my face as I spoke this to her.

‘It was not love Rohan, it was just that you were a good friend of mine. I dont think I love you the way I should. It’s not love Rohan.’ May be she was right. May be I was solely wrong. 

It was too much of turbulence inside me. I wanted to cry out loud. But I had determined that I would not go back to her again. I would look forward, and bring the change in myself, and do good for my grades that were falling down. I was in the second semester at college, almost towards the end of my first year of B-tech, when I came to know of blogging. It’s said that with all the adversities, sometimes chords set themselves to play a tune right. I started to blog. I expressed from the core of my heart, each and everything. Initially, I may have been perceived as a sadist, but slowly as the wound healed, so did the pain in my words. I started to write articles, short stories, based on various themes.

I don’t consider myself as a blogger, or a writer. But yes, I found a way out from the infliction that I went through and brought out a way to help myself. It’s been almost four years now of my blogging. I happily accept that my decision to start a blog has helped to know myself better.


A wonderful video from housing.com :


I was inspired to write this post by housing.com's activity about 'Start A New Life'


Tuesday, March 26, 2013

An Odd Invention



Like the way OS drives hardware,
My tender heart drives my actions.
My CPU seldom pauses its function,
Clutched in multiple processes
And deadly thread synchronization.
Endured against suffocation,
Withstanding brute deadlock condition;
I envy that giant-tiny mastermind,
Fabricated into a chip
Named after Intel’s perfection.

My limbs and glands,
Constitute my local connection.
Through narrow bandwidth in my nerves
Runs protocol for communication.
In meshes, in rings, in stars or on buses,
With niggling breaks and data congestion
My dreams sail in intense versions.
Full of exclamations and interjections,
My vision surpasses
Chris Nolan’s ‘Inception’.

Procuring the imagination
Of an unmatched conviction.
With new thoughts’ propulsion
At my solitary mansion,
I head towards tranquility
Drawing my steps towards the invention.
An invention that can help you find
Eternal love for your life 
Exempted of distrust and disgust.
Aided with honesty, and upheld warmly.

And that would be my ultimate innovation;
My blow of life,
Into lives of millions & millions.



Images Courtesy : Google Images Search

Tuesday, March 5, 2013

Enviousness



I envy him…
The stealer who sneaked into my vase,
Furtively he lavished my flowers with glam.
With strokes of his magic wand;
Vanished my flowers; their essence scrammed.
I still care and preserve,
The leftover aroma in the emptiness.
I envy him…
As he turned into a giant black cloud,
Hovered above; embraced my love in the night sky.
A tear rolled down, and mingled with stillness in lake.
And soon it rained; emerged an urge to crush my ache.
But I stood low, dormant and lifeless.
I wait for the sky to get clear.
I envy him…
The musketeer who plundered into my home.
He took away all that was mine,
Sweetness on her lips, and her dimpled face in shine.
I wish his musket to kill me,
As her memories couldn’t help me die.


Image Courtesy : Anshul Gautam's - ViBGYOR

Sunday, January 20, 2013

The Journey...


Its album ‘Passions’ by Ghazal Maestro, Late Shree Jagjit Singh, playing on my computer while I am typing this. And the lyrics is conforming with emotions once I had. It was my first semester break, and I was going back home, in Gujarat. I had tried to cage my emotions within sheets of my notebook, somewhere which remains in its hideous isolation now.Then, I was different, from what I am now. At least I had tears, and I could spill them when I needed. Now even after million tries, I don’t get any. I wish, if I could feel light, bursting out from the complex lockage in my brains.

I was travelling alone, and I talked with myself all through the journey. And the reciprocation of turbulence of thoughts was imprisoned within certain pages. I stopped by at those pages today, while I was tearing them off before putting them on fire. And the pages read :


I sit still, and scenes through my window ‘pass’ by. 
Like projection of memories on walls, 
Glimpses of my existence in them pass by.
The distant horizon moves with me, like the ultimate goal in my life. 
Hills and its ranges, terrain rough and sprawling solitude pass by.
I watch as a viewer, terrains where I had been. 
Scraped pieces of my loneliness, my jobless thoughts in them pass by.
Rivulets in their topsy-turvy curves, 
Meeting and dividing; behold my soul. 
Kinships I had and pain of their losses pass by.

Away from solitude, my eyes snap at commotion,
As the city in energy passes by.
Of all few causes that put us down,
Million reasons to rise and smile pass by.
The obstinacy to laugh, promises to shine pass by.
The shine is in our goal, and the journey is our road to shine.
I still still, and scenes through my window pass by.
I close my eyes slowly,
Dazzles of glistens, sparks of enticement,
Fervor in my goals ‘waltz’ by.



Image Courtesy : Google Images Search