TextS ..

My mom recently learnt how to send texts. She had a friend with whom she shared texts very frequently . And after that it gradually decreased , as she had no one from whom she would receive messages and then forward them to me. Pretty complicated. So ditch.
The day before she forwarded me some jokes. And I replied her the courteous "haha" so that she's rest assured I read the joke and that it made me happy. Like other things related to me, she makes sure that if its safe , I'm in and if its risky , I'm out and if its crazy, I'm packed in a scold and blow away like air.
But that say what was least expected was her reply . She replied "you have the cutest smile in this world" .
I was stunned and shocked and very happy to read it.
Pertaining to the gloomy and tensed person I've recently turned into, she worries I will burst one day . Because things have been more than the usual rough I am accustomed to handle. I've been through a lot of insane things, but then I keep my calm always. But these days I've become a little edgy !
Nevertheless she got ample of moments while I was at home to calm and soothe me. And shut my tears and slap the accuses to comfort the silly 22 year old me.
 I do not tell her my worries , only because my craziness might confuse her of my intentions. But she proved me wrong by staying like she was. Like a shelter is , like a shield is.
So close she has been to my closeness , that she knows all whats buried inside . Still  never questions , just loves .
Sometimes all I want , is to hug her the whole day and stay near her.

SpaCes

The empty corner that fulfills my soul

The window that the rain sticks too

And loves the glass 

like loving for the last time

The untidy bed I left in the morning

The usual place where I intake caffeine

The prayer room that swallows my wishes

And the roof that defines what a sky can be

And what can be the limits

The mind that never sleeps

The dreams that leave no void in the hopeless heart

The cupboard that keeps all secrets

And the hand that grips someone it loves

A picture that saves every vague memory 

A letter to someone you no longer spoke to

The spaces are becoming more complex with time 

A space to suit your need :)

PamPereD?

Runs in veins apprehensions

Still so worried about the future he is

And he doubts if his present is worth enough

Worth , to save him till his hundred

Till all his teeth fall

He would love and live with a hope to reach an age , where he is pampered like a child .

But will his child pamper him ?

Or will he remain , the man with anxious hands ?

No More White ..

The shivering was so real. After a long time she felt things falling apart . Things known and unknown , things complete and screaming to be complete. Emptiness has its own contentment at times, but this was devastating. She sat in the middle of the house, wondering what was real and what was unreal . How will she face and accept , that whatever she thought all her life to be real , ends up to be a whim. A tale of a cruel reality ? Or that of a mislead heart ? No matter what it was , but for now , she certainly wanted nothing against her notions. She cried. Silently , loudly , mutely . In every possible way . Cried more to be forgiven for what she did not do, cried silently of the guilt , of having ignored somethings important. Such relative importance, and such dependent importance . She wished she had never paid heed to the inhibitions. She wished there was a replay button , she would resume and fight the change back.
But then the rage made her cry more. Loving a thing for the last time isn't easy, when you have loved it since forever. Such a worst thing to happen to some one. Loosing a passion.
The fight of mute tears and an inspiring self continued. Till she decided to still go with her practical way.

Easily convincing her tears, that they did no good to her. She retreated to her normal self, one unacceptable step.
She needs a hint from the destiny , only then will she revolt.


A news made her sad. Someone else was the chosen one in her place. Not fair? When it is ? when will it be?

She will tear away the newspaper, and erase the fact out of her heart. But what about something that runs in the veins ? How do you stop that ?

She decided to close her diary and sleep. Sleep till the morning gets better or till the tears die .

Such a murderer she is.

BlUe.....

The water was blue , blue , blue. Blue not of azure water, neither of expanding sky , but the blue of blueness. It was brimmed with the subtleness of curiosity and all I could feel was the shyness of waves, of the path they changed , fearing to strike one another. The water seemed so happy with itself , engrossed in resolving its little notions that it would have certainly missed that I was near, near like the petty stones, near to its blueness. I wondered why I was noticing it with peace , when I had so much turmoil within myself. I left the little pond  we had outside our house and went inside by myself, still feeling blue. I reached to the wall which I was painting and carefully started studying the movements of my brush. I could not afford to make any wrong move. I wondered how dancers manage their movements . Such would be the detail by which they handle their postures. I started using red instead, helped me to come out of my blueness. I always felt I could imagine things beyond the shrinking thoughts and with the nothingness sustaining and that’s why perhaps I was an artist. Riya returned from her college , as her shout indicated. She wanted me at her service now. Mothers are implicitly treated as someone who would sacrifice till eternity. I wiped her forehead of sweat, wishing I wipe off her worries too . I could sense something started bothering her the moment she saw me painting anything. I failed to know what it was, so just decided to express my worries vaguely by such actions . I gave her all what she wanted, at that moment, and otherwise too.

A few days later I was again sitting near the pond when she gripped me and asked, about what I wanted as my mothers day present. Riya was a big girl now. She managed her expenses by a nice job that she bagged an year ago. I was overwhelmed by the gesture that she would  consider my existence for some day called mother's day. I felt happy.  I took my hands out of the blue water and told her all I want is to see her happy always. 

Riya was the only one I had. My husband left us. Riya hated the fact that mean men existed. She loved me a lot, but I could not sometimes measure love. She had her own ways of loving in an inexpressive way.

It was two days before the mother's day. Riya was growing uneasy , I could feel her anxiety  filling the entire house. Just the night before the mother’s day , she called me to her room and told me that she was looking at all the old albums. Her room was organized now. I couldn't understand what's on her mind. She was staring at me , I knew. She held my hands in hers and said, " I know I have been so bad to you all the time, the truth is that I love you the most in this world . Tomorrow you have to come with me to the hospital. You will get back your eyes. I want you to see the beautiful things you paint, the magazines that contain the eulogies on your outlook towards art. See how great an artist this world takes you to be, the millions of money that you make out of your paintings. The Reds you use, the blue you always wanted to see."

The fact that I was a blind painter always perturbed Riya. I told her I need no eyes for myself. I need them just to see you. And I feel nice when I can touch and imagine you , that way, atleast for abrupt reasons ,  I'll always be closer to you. What use are eyes for. And she always felt disgusted by my thoughts. Riya wanted me to have eyes too .

I was happy to know that I finally know what made her so tense since the last one month. 

And started the day , I was admitted . The wait was of one day . Riya was disappearing in between. She had her best friend baby sit me all the time. A day later the doctor gave me the privilege to see. Obviously I demanded to see my girl first of all, along with her friend who was baby sitting me. 

I opened my eyes, and found hers woven under bandage. A sudden pain wretched my existence , and I was in tears. I now knew how much she loved me. And just wished I could have not loved her so much , that to make me see the blue, she opted to suffice her eyes with black only. 

Love relatively bounces back... If not... Its not love ....

Forgetting plans!

Sometimes you just wish writing was easy.
The mind knew what words will seduce  and the soul knew which parts to scratch .

Mistakes , moments , thoughts and actions , all pour into this on little mind , with its parts involved in so many material things !

How I wish I was short on memory and dint remember what left a mark and what was to be written my way