Behind him.

I feel it. I own it. And all the mess I owe it. To HIM.

Changing my life, lifestyle, aura and the circumstances,

I feel chocked, disgust, left on the road,

Why can't he be my man of the north?

Why can't he feel my inside thrones?

I'm left alone, I'm independent, love dependent.

The tunings, the musings, all about him,

The giver, the adjuster, yes it's me.

All alone binding the pages tore,

All alone standing on a busy road.

Behind him.

One on needy.

Down on my way It stuck with my gaze,

How heinously they demanded all of those pretty hates.

I truly remember the sight of that day,

I can't describe it, maybe because of the breathtaking prey.

Those small dirty hands, forfeited.

Needlessly asking for bravery and regretted.

Wanting much attention but getting rage filled with redemption.

Nothing to cure the living, just a sake to spread feelings.

The crowd unsettled, remorse, vulnerable.

Moving forward like those 19th fables.

I can't describe it, maybe because I am too afraid.

I watched the needy, I can't portray.

Down on my way it stuck with my gaze,

How they rejoiced seeing people, decay.

Summing up.

Not raising the issue, just making a clear difference of appreciation and honour!
ARTS, the subject most people think is just for failures. Just for the ones who didn't and can't score good in their studies. Or maybe, for the 'girls' who'll pursue the degree of 'home making ' or home science ' and be good 'housewives'. Wow!
I really pity on those science and commerce students, who made up their mind to be a doctor, engineer, CA and still think this small. Well, not arguing but ARTS, is really for those people who want to create new things, new career for their lives and not settle down for 50,000 per month. Maybe less or maybe more, but whatever they'll be, they'll be happy to follow their dreams and not just run behind the placement sessions and the coaching life. Also, people who think Arts is just for the dumbest ones, we are offered thousands of different lines in our life and it's all up to us to choose our LIFE! Not depending on others but on our own selves, to measure and make our future. Yes, I wrote we, I am also a part of the ARTS team who enjoy and achieve. And I am not suppressed at all by all the humans who try to bend my head down just because I took Arts as my career  option ? Not at all. I feel the proud in my strength to fight with my family and choose the stream I liked 5 years back. And yes, they are proud of me now. As they see all the scienc and commerce bees stressing up. I have my life and future clear with my goals and I know, I made my life better, maybe or maybe not in my annual income (more too) but a lot in happiness and satisfaction.
I took Arts and I am sure I'm going to get far better income and happiness is free. :)

Bloodline

She screamed to her loudest that early morning, she had no clue about what just happened with her, what she did that caused her this, what she ate, what she drank? Was that any kind of injury or something related to maturity? Without any knowledge she ran to her mother crying, 'mom, there's something wrong with me, it's so scary and uncomfortable, what should I do?' 'There's a bloodline in my panty and I don't know where it came from. Help me Mom!' She cried without any chance. Her mom told her about the mensuration that every 'woman' faces every month and it's in the nature of their life. She became a woman from a girl in just one night. That thing wasn't able to digest and the uncomfortable feeling of pad or tampon made her lose her temper. That harsh pain in her stomach lead her to drugs and all the techniques that can cause relief to her.
Her life just changed in a single night, it seemed that she could not walk properly and every other person is noticing her and they know about her 'period'. They know that she's mature and she's not a child anymore. Isn't it awkward that how a girl becomes mature in just a single drop of blood? How her maturity is judged and how her life changes in those seven days! It isn't easy to be a woman. It isn't easy to breath when you know you have to be careful on each and every step that you take noticing that there's no blood stain at the back of your jeans or under your kurta. It isn't easy to tolerate the pain whole day long just to know that you're mature and you have to take all this in your veins. Women's are born with this and have to die with this. And you think there's nothing a woman can do ? There's a lot more she can, more than your abuses and domestic violence and your standards!
Pads are not of shame but of pride.

#just a thing of feminism. 

Reality's fantasy!

Running and running till the death from the past she lost herself in the middle of the path. How cruel the world is, pushed her in the dark when she wanted to be in the centre of the light and pulled her from the light when she wanted to be alone.
She survived and sacrificed from the societal influence and mananged to sip coffee but as soon as she finished it, her face went blue and she once again saw 'him'. Him? Who?
He who made her beg for him, he who forced her to live in pain even after he left, he who crucified her while alive.
The same height, same hair, same kind of clothes and the style. She judged him from top to bottom, saw him continusly and wondered if he was someone else or him. She felt a kind of nervous breakdown even after realising he is not the one, just another person with the same physic. The truth lies behind the fact that she, after so many months, still search him in every other guy. And still wonders if he shows up what will she do, after facing these replica's of him what will she say if he shows up, will she breath or once again will live the moment ?


Ps: People like you inspire me @vibhasingh. :')

The Last Word.

"Sometimes you have to leave a person to know him more."
Last night I was going through my Instagram account and my eyes stucked on one of the pictures by Word Porn. I read it again and again and again to find the answer but I couldn't.
"You know some things are left to be answered by themselves." One of my friends said.
But still my heart was not ready to accept the sympathy, and my mind was knocking continusly to know the answer. What if he never comes back? What if he never loved me? What if he is fond of other girls more than me? And what if I was never a part of his heart? These question continusly pushed me in a great depression from which I was not able to escape.
I got to find the one who speaks the thing I want to hear. The thing I was not ready to accept. The truth. My world was revolving around that one thing, that one post, that one elephant who was chilling in my life like one of those demons ready for a high five.
Today morning I asked my mate about that serious blunder. And she said " if he doesn't come back, he is not the one."
I didn't find my answer in her words but I believed what everyone said.
And yet again in the dusk, my name didn't show up.
Yet again in the game of love I lost for the 1000th time from the same person. Yet again he won, because I loved and he, he doubted.
(But something inside me knows he is the one)

Dearly Beloved,

l'm sorry l haven 't talked to you in so long.
l feel l've been lost...
...no bearings, no compass. 
l kept crashing into things, a little crazy, l guess.
l've never been lost before.
You were my true north.
 
l could always steer for home when you were my home.
Forgive me for being so angry when you left.
l still think some mistake's been made...
...and l'm waiting for God to take it back.
But l'm doing better now.
The work helps me.
Most of all, you help me.
You came into my dream last night with that smile...
... that always held me like a lover...
...rocked me like a child.
All l remember from the dream...
...is a feeling of peace.
l woke up with that feeling...
...and tried to keep it alive as long as l could.
l'm writing to tell you that l'm on a journey toward that peace.
And to tell you l'm sorry about so many things.
l'm sorry l didn 't take better care of you...
...so you never spent a minute being cold or scared or sick. ''
''I'm sorry I didn't try harder to find the words. . .
 
. . .to teII you what I was feeIing.
I'm sorry I never fixed the screen door.
I fixed it now.
I'm sorry I ever fought with you.
I'm sorry I didn't apoIogize more.
I was too proud.
I'm sorry I didn't bring you more compIiments. . .
. . .on everything you wore and every way you fixed your hair
I'm sorry I didn't hoId on to you with so much strength. . .
. . .that even God couIdn't puII you away. ''




Nicholas Sparks

Message in a bottle.