Playing Doctor.

No rhyme or reason,
Just a few simple incisions.
One or two there.
A deep one, cutting through the infection.
A shallow one just grazing the skin.
Take some gauze,
Wash it off.
Apply pressure.
Dress it up.
And you're good to go.

More rumbling and grumbling.

It has been far to long and it is unacceptable.
Must write something soon.
Tonight, I write!

Rumble grumble

With all that is going on I haven't gotten much time to sit and write. And this saddens me. I feel like I should allocate a certain amount of time each day to writing and see if I am able to come up with anything substantial.
So strange to not be free all the time like I was earlier this year. Such a contrast it is. From having the whole day to do nothing, to being up on my feet from 5:30 am till 6:30 pm.
I don't know how I feel about it yet.

Anyway, peace out.

Lions.

We got on board the bus waiting at the designated "Big Cats" pick up area. My sister and I ran up to the front of the bus, as eager as a bunch of kinder-gardeners gearing up for a field trip. I looked at the petting zoo and saw the ducks waddling about and the deer minding their own business, lazing in the shade. A few more people got on and the bus driver closed the latch on the door. He started the bus and I could hear a faint echo of a familiar Bollywood tune. Excitement coursing through my veins, I wished the bus would move faster, honestly a snail would have beaten us in a race.

As we approached the "Big Cats" enclosures my senses heightened, it took all my will not to just jump out of the window. I ran off and went to the man who would accompany us into the enclosure. He smiled at my family and waited for the European company who was visiting the Lions along with us. We entered the first gate and instantly I could sense the electricity buzzing on the fence in front of me. We grabbed large sticks which we were told to keep between ourselves and the lions at all times. I dropped my bag to the ground and legs trembling walked through the next gate.

My sister and I were first, we walked in a group to face the lion and then broke off and went behind him. With our sticks in one hand and knees on the ground we were told to touch him. Our friend was Ginger, a two year old lion who just started going through puberty. I hesitantly went to pet him like I would our dog at home. My first thoughts were "Oh my god, oh my god, I am petting a lion." And after that initial shock and amazement I looked at him carefully. He was just chilling, that is the only word appropriate. Chilling. And I looked at his face and he honestly looked so peaceful and serene. He didn't seem to mind that two random humans were petting his rather coarse coat of fur.

After everyone else had their interaction with Ginger we walked over to one of the white lions. White, not albino, Mulatsi is apparently very sensitive about that. We were last to approach the sleeping cat. And once again my legs turned to jelly and it took me a second to regain the same confidence I eventually had while next to Ginger. After sitting with Mulatsi for half a minute I realized he is just another one of God's peaceful creatures. It is man who has created this terrible image for such animals. Men have taken over their lands and when they lash out at us we call them monsters. Which I find quite unfair and hypocritical, we're the monsters  who lock these majestic beings in cages. We are the monsters who hunt them and kill their children.

In the end I was in awe, the lions I met were not vicious creatures to be met with fear. Instead peaceful creatures of the earth just minding their own business who should be approached with love and respect. Honestly, it was an experience I will never forget, not even when I am old and senile. 

And now..

After months of anxiety and waiting (not so patiently) by this time tomorrow I should be enrolled in Lady Shri Ram College for Women.
Fate has dealt me a great hand.
I just hope it doesn't snatch the game away from me.
Knowing my luck, things may just blow up in my face and I will be left trying to pick myself up again.
*Fingers crossed.*

Oh, the long and arduous process of getting into University.

Must tell you about the lions and scuba diving. Quite the vacation.

Will be back soon.

War

I'm failing.
Haven't come up with anything worthwhile in nearly two weeks.
These times are the worst.
These are the times I question myself and wonder if anything I write is ever worth while.
I feel battered down, like I'm fighting a war in my own head, but the catch is the opposing side doesn't even exist. I am fighting 'nothing', and how can you win when you're fighting nothing?
Bad ideas are easier to deal with compared to no ideas at all.

Captured and Bound - 3

She awoke from her slumber and her ears picked up a distant rumbling. Her first thoughts are of thunder, but as she strained her ears she realized that it isn’t an approaching storm. If only she had some hint of where she is, but she has no idea about what is outside her holding cell, except for the light. The light which she realized isn’t the moon or the sun. It was some kind of bulb, and the timings were sporadic so she had nothing to go on. She felt stronger than the first time she regained her consciousness. She could feel her cuts turning into scabs and the throbbing of her bruises lessened. But she knew she would never be strong enough to break out, she hadn’t eaten in days and had no water to drink. She suspected that someone had been injecting her, while she slept, with fluids to keep her alive. She could feel a bandage on her left arm and her right thigh. Whatever they were giving her wasn’t enough to give her full strength, but it was enough to keep her vitals stable. They were keeping her for something and she could only guess what. Secrets weren’t uncommon in her line or work, but she had no clue which secret her captors wanted. If only someone would come and talk to her, make contact, strike some sort of a deal. The entire situation confused her; if they wanted to kill her they wouldn’t be injecting her to keep her alive. If they wanted information they would have tortured and harassed her. And yet, so much time had gone by and nothing.

Every time she woke up, she would feel the same emotions. First she felt slight confusion, then recollection and finally a concoction of despair and anger. She had started counting the number of times she would wake up, to try and make sense of how much time had passed since the first time she woke up in the room. She had a very precise internal body clock, but after a while keeping count became difficult. When the hopelessness set in she would escape to her garden and try to keep herself from yelling and screaming out. She didn’t want to show her slow mental degradation. She had to keep strong and prove to her subjugators that she could keep up with their game. But with each passing minute she could feel herself falling deeper and deeper into a black pit of gloom, with very little to hold on to. The only thing that could possibly help her out of this mess is a miracle. 

1,000 Hiatus.

Just reached the 1,000th hit! I wish I could hug each and every person who helped get to that amazing number.
Unfortunately I am declaring a hiatus. I am travelling to the lovely hills of the Himalayas.

For people who are revisiting, please go back and read your favourites.
And for new faces, I hope you enjoy what is already on here.

Be prepared for more work inspired by the beauty of nature.

Peace out! 

Irritation.

Have you ever felt that annoying gnawing feeling in your gut when you just can't seem to put words into a sentence? You can't seem to write anything that sounds good and is even remotely coherent. It's like you've suddenly lost the ability to write and all creativity has evapourated. You feel drained and frustrated and just wish for the smallest idea to seed itself in your mind but it's empty and blank. You feel like your brain is a desert and there is no life as far as you can see. It gets on your nerves, spoils your mood and makes you feel physically sick. You walk around with a constant frown. Whenever someone inquires about your writing you shoot them a foul expression, wishing they would just walk away and leave you alone. Alone to dwell in the ruins of your lack of creativity.

And I'm back...

After a very successful eye surgery. I now have beautiful 20/20 vision and am quite enjoying this freedom from glasses and contact lenses. Will post something soon!
Cheers!

Midnight Breeze

"Everyone has this one place,
One corner of the world 
That makes them feel back to normal and even better."

I sit on the balcony of my 16th floor apartment,
The midnight breeze blowing through my hair
Listening to the leaves rustling
Feel the air thick with moisture from the low laying clouds
I close my eyes and I am transported
To a different world.
Where nothing can harm me, 
Where I feel strangely calm.
Happy, free of inhibitions. 
The midnight breeze carries away all my worries
Takes them far away.
The midnight breeze swiftly sweeps me away
To a land of perfection.
The midnight breeze.

Sometimes.

Sometimes you just want to scream on the top of your lungs.
And you want to jump up and down crying and whining.
There are times you want to sit on the couch and devour a tub of ice cream.
Other times when you want to just spend the day in your pajamas and ignore the rest of the world.
So why don't you? When these sometimes come to your mind and it takes all your strength to resist, why not give in? Perhaps you feel like you are simply too mature to do such silly things, or maybe you aren't in the 'right' environment. But why should any of this stop you, we are animals, and we should act on instinct. It seems unfair to me that humans are give the amazing 'privilege' of being able to think reasonably. Reason, logic, sense all these apparent assets are what is wrong with the world. We think and mull over things in our mind over and over again, until they seem so shiny that it must make sense. But who decides what sense is? Just another human, and how do we know that what that human says is right? Its all just a big mess that we have created. Honestly we should just go back to our primal days and let penguins rule the world.
Pay no attention what-so-ever to the above post. Merely ramblings..

Passion

A burning sensation.

Something only you know how to feed. So that it grows and turns into something beautiful. Its overwhelms your life and allows you to live the only way you should, freely. There are no more ropes keeping you down, like shackles on a prisoner, nothing you can’t shake off, just a shrug of your shoulders and you are okay. When you let your passion consume you, you find a way to fill that deep, dark, intense void that has been eating you alive. It’s something you just can’t deny or ignore. Because if you don’t feed it, it’ll turn into that monster you dream of. That monster that becomes your life. It is the only thing that solely belongs to you, because your passion should be your life, your life should be your passion. Both are intertwined, for without passion what is the life you live, and without this life how can you act out on your passion. Eat, breathe, sleep, think of only your passion and your life is fulfilled. You have a reason to live. Let nothing else control you, be a slave to your passion, be a slave to yourself. 

Lonesome.

Feeling lonely is something that we all experience in our lives. Humans crave for companionship no matter how much they try to deny it, we're social creatures. No matter how much we say we don't need anyone to get us through live, we do. Some say feeling lonely is all in your head, you feel lonely in a crowded room, it's all because of your thoughts. You are spending time with an amazing person, but that internal void still gnaws and pulls at you until you fall into a slum and you can't pull yourself out. You need someone to help you out of it, but you can't seem to find a friend, lover, or just anyone to do that for you. You are stuck and the only person who can help you is you. Being alone is not easy but the only way you can be with someone is if you know what it's like being alone, otherwise how will you ever appreciate the other person. Likewise if you want someone to appreciate you, you have to leave them alone for a while. But that's a whole different story. First focus on yourself, be alone. Embrace it, not matter how much it hurts. It's one lesson you have to learn, the sooner the better. Just make sure you get out of it alive. 

Captured and Bound - 2

He shifts the body of the woman to his left side to get a better grip on the door handle, and as soon as he enters the barren, damp room he feels a pang of pity for her. Alas, this is his job and he has to do as he is told, though it’s easier when the body doesn’t have such a soft, pretty face. He places her on the chair placed in the middle of the room and first ties her waist in place. He leaves a little slack so that she has a tiny bit of space to move when she wakes up. Next he chains her wrists to the arms of the chair and while doing so he can’t resist the urge to take her hand and stroke it. At times he wished he didn’t have to do all of this, deep down he’s not a violent person, he was only doing this job for the money and as soon as he had enough saved up he would leave. At least that is what he kept telling himself, but the money just never seemed to add up. After he had tied her down in all the right places he placed her head on her shoulder and with one last longing look he limped out of the ‘dungeon’ as he liked to think of it, and locked the door.

                Dragging his own cozy little chair towards himself, he realized how tired he really was, and when he finally sat down he let out a sigh of relief. He knew she wasn’t going to be conscious anytime soon so he decided a nap would be nice. He made himself comfortable and almost immediately dozed off. It was only when he heard his radio start buzzing did he wake up, the blasted thing always annoyed him. He turned the volume down low so all he could hear was a soft hum. He wondered if she was up yet and got out of his chair to go look through the little peep hole next to the window meant for ventilation. He looked at his electronic wrist watch and noticed that he had slept through the night; the sun was probably just rising outside. Oh, outside, how he missed it so much, he had been stuck patrolling the ‘dungeon’ for three months now. He cursed himself and he realized he had already used his day off for this month and started pining for the April breeze.  He was brought back to the present when he heard a soft groan from the lady inside. He focused his eyes on her and noticed she was finally coming back to her senses. He felt exceptionally bad for her and decided to break one of the small tiny rules; he took his flashlight and shined it through the window. At least she would have some light, if nothing else, he thought to himself.

The man continued watching her for a while but when he’s stomach gave a noticeable jerk he decided it was time to eat. He double checked the lock on the door and taped the flashlight at the window’s ledge. He glanced at her one last time and found that it pained him to see her so miserable. He wondered what someone so beautiful could have done to anger the boss, enough to get her time in the ‘dungeon’. But that was none of his business; he just had to keep guard and make sure the prisoner didn’t escape. Not that any prisoner had ever escaped. The ‘Dungeon’ was nearly 200 feet below ground level with state of the art oxygen supply and a completely natural look; no one could ever tell it was built to look the way it looked.  It was almost as if someone just made a hole in the ground, but in reality it was wired with so many different alarm systems and there were tiny vents blowing in oxygen. They could even control the moisture levels in the air, not to mention the temperature. He was sure there was a lot more he didn’t know about behind the mechanics of the ‘dungeon’ but he couldn’t be bothered to find out, not that anyone would tell him. He wasn’t at the top of the ladder; he was actually one of the bottom rungs. That didn’t bother him at all, as long as he was paid on time and got all the perks they promised him.

As he made his way to the mess, his thoughts made an unexpected leap to his past. He hadn’t thought about his life before working for the boss in a very long time. He was a simple security guard at the mall. He was fresh out of high school, not a cent to his name and living out of his mother’s basement; funny how he eventually landed up in a huge, state of the art, basement.  He remembered his first pay check and running home to give it to his mother who saved it in the ‘new home’ jar. He had never known affluence; his mother was an immigrant from Hungary and was very young when her parents were shot dead right in front of her. All she ever wanted was to move her son away from the unruly neighborhood that took her parents and then went on to take her husband as well. As he approached the mess, he wiped away a tear from his eye, it wouldn’t do well to be seen crying in front of the guys.

He nodded his head and smiled politely as he passed by some of the men closer to the boss, or as he liked to call them ‘suited monkeys’. He got his tray of eats and sat alone, he didn’t feel like wasting time talking to the guys, he wanted to get back to the woman to make sure nothing went wrong, but most of all to see if she was okay. He gulfed down his food, avoiding any kind of eye contact. Within three minutes he was done with everything on the tray. He grabbed his bottle of juice, wiped his face with a napkin and nodded his goodbyes to the guys. It was uncommon for someone to dine and dash, no one got offended if you didn’t sit with them, no one started a fight if you didn’t speak to them. Professional life was so much better than high school, and his job at the mall. He couldn’t believe it has only been 5 years since he had nothing. And now, he has his own house, in a neighborhood his mother approves of, she lives with him and doesn’t have to work anymore. Of course she wishes he would be home more often, but he tells her that soon enough he will be home all the time.

He finally gets back to his post and peeks through to see that she is now fully alert, part of him cheers victoriously that she is awake and the other part is worried about the part that is cheering! He reprimands himself for spending so much time looking at her and scuttles over to settle down in his relaxing chair. He tunes his radio to his favourite station and thanks the boss that the ‘dungeon’ walls are sound proof. He listens to the calming music and realizes he’s left the flashlight on. He glances over and decides to leave it there till night fall, it’s the least he can do for the angel face trapped in the ‘dungeon’.

Captured and Bound

      Her eyes flutter open and she slowly regains consciousness. She lifts her head and her eyes immediately follow the single ray of light that falls into the room, she looks towards the window and realizes she is underground. Her thoughts are sluggish and she feels sick, her first instinct is to get up and run, but as she tries to move she finds that she is bound to her seat. There are chains on her feet and her hands are tied to the arms of the chair, she pushes herself forward to find even her waist is locked down to the chair by a tight leather cloth. The stress she applies to get out of the chair is too much for her and she has to stop lest she becomes unconscious once again. She takes a long deep breath only to find that the air makes her lungs burn and she coughs up a combination of blood and bile. She feels like screaming, kicking and crying but she knows she must remain calm.

      She decides she has to take in her surrounds and try not to fight. She looks back at the window and watches the solitary ray of light quickly disappear. Suddenly the room is pitch black, a black that is blacker than black. It’s as if the air around her is opaque, not a single bit of the sunlight has been absorbed by the room. She closes her eyes and finds that the darkness she feels with them closed is more comfortable. She concentrates all her strength to her ears and listens hard. Somewhere in the room she hears a muted trickling of water, and even the scuttling of insects, which further confirms her thoughts of being underground. She focuses more on her ears but unfortunately that is all she can seem to make out. Once again her head becomes dizzy and she stops herself from overstraining. Now that her adrenaline has dimmed down she starts feeling pain in various places, her arms throb and she thinks her ankle may be twisted. Even though her back is pressed against the chair she feels a sharp sting across it. The pain makes it harder for her to think straight but she needs to keep her mind agile. Next she puts her nose to the test, the sharp stench of human feces enters her nose and she can only conclude that she has made a mess, considering the state she is in she doesn’t even feel disgusted with herself, in fact she is relieved that her body still works normally. Despite the smells of human waste she catches a whiff of mildew, and knows for certain there is water close by. Her tongue is dry and her mouth tastes vile due to the blood, if only there was a way she could get to the water. She knows by thinking of it her dehydration will only get worse. She thinks of a nice cool glass of cranberry juice to get her salivating, and as soon as she builds up the slightest amount of saliva she swallows, bringing a small amount of relief to her throat.

      The pain keeps building up and it reaches a point where she feels like she would rather die, but then she recalls her training. She brings up an image in her mind, a beautiful lush meadow. There is a stream running through the green grass and flowers scattered all around her. She just has to concentrate on this image and she will make it through. She knows there is no point in trying to escape, she has lost all her energy and must build it up before she can try anything. She forces her body to relax and concentrates on the serenity she has managed to conjure up in her head. She is lying on the grass as a butterfly comes and sits next to her. She walks to a tree and picks up a ripe apple lying at its base. As she pictures herself taking a huge chunk of the apple her mouth salivates once again, and she can almost taste the juicy red apple. She continues her mediation and slowly but surely the pain dulls down, she can feel herself rejuvenating. She keeps her eyes closed and slowly moves her fingers; she doesn’t want any sudden shocks of pain. Thanking her stars she finds all her fingers are intact and none have been broken or cut off, which she knows is common practice when it comes to torture. She imagines herself petting her little puppy back home which brings a slight smile to her cracked lips. That smile however has cost her, her lips start bleeding profusely and her mouth is once again filled with the taste of iron. She sticks out her tongue in hopes to capture any moisture that may be in the air, and she finds herself lucky when she retracts her tongue to find it isn’t dried up. Feeling hopeful, she slows down her breathing and tries to hold in as much oxygen in her lungs as she can. She must awaken all her brain cells if she wants to devise an escape plan.

      She stays in her little world for what may as well be an eternity; she thinks she has no concept of time. When it dawns on her, she has forgotten about the window, she glances over and notices the ray of light is back. But it couldn’t possibly be the sun, she would have seen moonlight if it was; unless of course it’s time for the new moon. She shakes her head, none of these thoughts matter right now. She sticks to the belief that a night has passed and decides she is going to keep count. One night, one long night has passed since she regained awareness. She stares at the window, trying to soak in all the light she can through her eyes. That little bit of light is all she has to hold on to right now, the only small wisp of hope that she will once again be able to bathe in the sunlight. 

Music and the Soul

Music makes my soul feel good,

But for music to be made,

I need a musician.

The rhythm, the melody, and the beats,

All put together, 

Make my heart smile.

The tempo, the pitch,

If you get them just right,

Makes me glow.

But for music to be made,

I need a musician.

I dance across the room,

Like the eight-notes on a sheet of paper,

The lyrics tell a story,

One I’ve never heard before.

A story that I know so well,

One that I feel in my body.

But for music to be made,

I need a musician.

Every song is like a soul,

Waiting to rise above,

Touching other souls on their journey,

Touching my soul.

Music makes my soul feel good,

Are you my musician?

We are your instruments,

And through us you make your music.

I have my musician. 

She - Patience

Patience 
She sits in one of the many dark blue plastic chairs, waiting uncomfortably for some news on what is happening. The light bulbs enveloped every inch of the room in a sickly bright white. The stench of cleaning liquids and sterilizers fill her nose and she has the urge to sneeze but stops herself. She eyes the nurse at the help desk, hoping to catch her eye and indicate that she’s been waiting patiently for so long, she is now at wits end. The worst thoughts start to set camp in her brain and there is nothing else she can think of. And why should she have to divert her mind, she’s here to help someone dear to her. There is a constant buzzing of voices, from the speakers in the walls, from the nurses, patients, doctors, visitors. No one seems to be silent except for her. She gets up and starts pacing up and down, she has to find a way to get in a meet him. She’s the only person who was there who actually cares, the only one who saw what happened state he was in and panicked. The rest just stared, as if he was performing a special trick for a circus side show. People can be so unbelievable at times; no one went to help him. She saw them take him to the ambulance and she was in a state of shock, it took her time to realize she should go after him. The taxi ride seemed to take an eternity and she couldn’t stop the silent tears pouring down her face. She finally reached the hospital and rushed to find him, they told her to wait and that they would inform her, and which each second she grew more restless. Eventually they called her over and she walked through the unfamiliar walls and as soon as she turned the last corner she saw his beaming face. Then all her worries vanished and she smiled back at him, everything was alright.  

Those Days

Morning
You wake up 
Ask yourself 
Is it worth it?
Going though another day
The same thing
Repeatedly
Why even get out of bed?
Why not just lie there?
Forever
You don’t have incentive to get it
So why do you?
It’s that little glimmer of hope.
That chance that it may be different
That today will be 
Everything you want it to be
Today will be that dream you had last night
Of the perfect day.
So you do get out of bed.
And by the time you get back to bed.
Nothing has happened.
It’s all the same. 
But still the next morning, 
You still get up.
You still think that maybe
Just maybe
Today will be different.
And so goes your life.
Day by day
Until one day you decide 
That’s it. 
You are done.
And that is the day
It happens. 
Your miracle.
You finally have your day.
And it is
Amazing. 
I’m waiting for that day.

She - Relief

Relief

She can hear the rain drops hitting the hot asphalt outside, she slowly opens her eyes from her midday siesta and peeks out the window. She sees the leaves blowing, the water pouring and the children playing. She jumps out of bed and runs to her balcony and the musty smell of water mixed with dirt hits her nose. She breathes it in and her insides instantly begin to stir. She feels like the few seconds in the rain has energized her more than any amount of sleep ever could. She slips into a pair of shorts and a cotton t shirt and is off to dance with the raindrops. The streets are flooded and her clothes immediately start absorbing water, within a few minutes they are so drenched they seem to be pulling her down, but that doesn’t stop her. She slips and slide through the muddy grass and races with the young children, who like her, don’t care who is watching. The water clings to her skin, and she is grateful for this temporary relief from the dreadful heat. The mud splatters all over her legs as she jumps into the largest puddle she can find, in the midst of all the revelry she doesn’t mind the mess one bit. The rain brings a special type of joy to her, a joy that resonates in her soul, in every atom of her being. The rain brings her back to her core spirit, she feels free and relaxed, energized and at peace. She is at her prime.  

A special journey

         It surprises me how a complete stranger can turn into someone you would trust your life with. Her heart starts racing as she throws her leg over the motorcycle and she holds on to his almost non-existent waist. He turns back and tells her to hold on tight. She moves in closer and takes a deep breath as he kicks them into motion. The wind blows in their face and they are off. As they make their way she starts thinking of the very first time she met him, she was so shy and slightly afraid. She didn’t know what to expect and had no idea that almost four years into the future she would be sitting with him on a motorcycle with the summer sun beating down on them. He periodically glances back at her to make sure she is okay, and every time he does so her heart feels warmer and she starts to smile. Despite her fears she feels safe around him and knowing that he cares makes her feel even safer. When their journey comes to an end her face falls to a frown and she wishes he didn’t have to leave, alas they must bid farewell till next time. He takes her in a warm embrace and she can smell his scent on his skin, she lingers there for a moment until she realizes she has to let go. She wants to hold onto him forever, he is the one who has been there for her through all that has gone wrong. He has helped pick up the pieces and made her smile through her tears.  Every time she has to say goodbye her stomach feels uneasy, she never wants him out of her sight lest something happens to him. He slowly rides away and she slumps back into her dull monotonous life, waiting for the next time he’ll bring some light into her life. 

She - Submerged

Submerged

She stands at the edge of the glittering body of water, the breeze create tiny waves that tickle her toes. The sun has set and there is a nip in the air, but she doesn't mind at all. She slowly submerges herself into the cool liquid and every inch of her skin prickles up. Her teeth chatter for the first few seconds but she is soon acclimated to the temperature of her surroundings. Once she is comfortable she pushes off the wall and allows her muscles to take control. Her arms move like a windmill pushes the water back, and with each thrust she moves forward. Her legs kick, propelling her further, perfectly synchronized with her arms. With each breathe she feels more alive and when she reaches the end of her first lap she doesn't even hesitate before starting the next. She continues her routine as the water glides over her skin just as it would glide over any sea creature. She is in her element and feels more graceful than she ever does on land. Her arms and legs seem to have turned into fins and she swims with no reserve, when she is swimming she doesn't care who is watching or what is happening in the world around her. She is with herself and at peace, the constant motion brings a special stillness to her mind and she has only one thought ‘keep going, don’t stop’.
 

Consumed

Events have transpired. Words have been said. Looks have been given. Hearts have been broken.

It seems that with every passing moment, you cannot keep track of what is happening. Like the world is conspiring against you and you can’t seem to stop what the heavens wish to do to you. The only thing you can do is accept your fate and stand to a side silently awaiting your destiny. When you make a decision it seems like you are only making the wrong one. But do we make all the wrong choices so that one day we can make the right and appreciate it more. If only it worked that way, but I don’t think it does. One by one you push everyone away; you are like a parasite, feeding on others. Don’t you realize that one day they will not have anything left for you to feed off of? Slowly they all die off, leaving you alone, to gradually consume yourself. But you are limited to what they are, so there isn’t much left is there?

You look for an answer, but you can’t seem to find one, you ask for help, but no one seems to know what to do. The only thing left to do is to give up. And do you do.

You need to find support, something to hold on to. But there is nothing left, you’ve consumed it all. They don’t want you anymore.

It’s over.

You’re over.

She - Natural

Natural

She awakes from a deep slumber by violent pains in her abdomen. She opens her droopy eyes and gets up from her bed to go ask for some medications. When she gets up she sees a pool of red on her sheets. She is absolutely horrified and yet she remains calm. It’s a day she knew would come, not that she was enthusiastic about it, but she was prepared. She goes to her mother and wakes her up as well. At first her mother is disgruntled about being woken up at such an ungodly hour, but once she hears the news her disposition changes completely. Her mother’s face lights up and she gives her a warm hug. She manages to wiggle out of the hug and they get to business washing the sheets while her mother talks to her about how she is now a woman. They talk about how ever girl comes to age a certain points in their life and how she is now a part of the so called ‘club’. She nods and smiles while in her mind all she can think about it going back to sleep. She dreads the fact that she will go through this on a regular basis, and wishes she didn’t have to. Alas, this is how it is and there is not much she can do about it, nature is nature and no man, or woman should doubt the ways of nature. 

Freedom

Freedom is being able to be who you are. It is when you can feel each atom in your body vibrating, and you can feel the oxygen hitting your brain. It’s being able to scream on the top of your lungs and not caring who hears you. It is a bird that soars through the heavens without a care in the world. Like the tumultuous ocean that wreaks havoc while maintaining it's duty as a safe haven. Freedom is having the right to control your life and live it the way you want. Freedom is not worrying about materialistic gain but spiritual gain. In our world freedom is scarce; most are slaves to their daily lives, while others are slaves to their fellow human beings. Some have freedom handed to them on a silver platter and refuse to take it. Others fight for their freedom, they fight till their death. But once you have freedom it pours over you like rain drops on your skin. You absorb it and you can feel it in every cell of your body. Freedom is not only a physical release from your shackles but a mental release from your limitations and inhibitions. You need to want it with all your being for it to be real. 

Lonely Tears

When a harsh word cuts deep, 
And a raised voice hurts your heart.
When a false face plays deceit,
The tears start rolling down your face,
Leaving behind a trail of black stains your cheeks.
You would think you'd wish you have someone to wipe away the tears, 
Take away all your fears.
No, that wish is too cliqued.
Now you just wish that there was someone, 
Who can understand what it feels like.
Understand exactly what you are going through.
Not to stop the tears, 
But to add to them.
So that you aren't alone.
You feel your wish will never come true.
You lose all your faith and hope.
Slump back to reality,
You will always cry alone.
No one else will know the same pain.
Your tears will always be alone.

She - Fate

Fate

She is the eldest of 8, the only one old enough to lend a hand to her mother. At the ripe age of 15 years she has lost her hero, the only man she has ever loved. She walks to her mother and tries to comfort her, but no words seem to come out. She doesn’t want to have to be the strong one, she should be allowed to be weak, but she keeps her chin up and doesn’t let her mask fall. She can’t even imagine thinking of the future when it seems to be such a struggle just getting through today. Never in her wildest dreams did she think her childhood would be cut so short. 

It is all fate; she takes it in her stride. She accompanies her uneducated mother to the banks, she handles their finances. She helps her younger siblings get through school and gives them advice when they come to her with their problems. She runs to school during the day, her only escape from the insanity at home. The only time she gets to be a real child, she laughs, runs, plays games with her friends. When she goes back home in the evening she must help with the cooking as well as finish her school work. She never thought life would be so difficult, but there is nothing she can do about it. She feels so helpless and desperate for someone to come save her from this situation. 

At night when all the work is done and everyone seems to be asleep she walks out to her garden. The only place she gets a moment to herself, her secret garden where nothing can hurt her. She tends to her roses and admires her lilies. Her mind starts wandering when a scared little voice pipes up and asks her to come in. She turns around with her arms open and her little brother jumps into her embrace. She walks in and lies down next to this adorable little boy. She looks into her eyes and sees her father looking back at her, warm brown eyes comforting her from beyond. Everything is going to be alright.

Rain

A scar across the night sky.

A mysterious glow in the air.

A gust of wind, throws you off guard.

The whisper of the leaves

What do they signal?

Danger or perhaps something else,

Perhaps an occurrence you’ve been waiting for.

A single drop falls,

A miniscule piece of the puzzle,

With the same brilliance of its source,

It lands exactly on the tip of your nose.

In the distance you here a grumble,

A rumble of the tempest that is about to begin.

For some it is a disaster,

While for others it is a miracle.

And for you,

A chance to rid yourself

Rid yourself of the burden.

Rid yourself of the sins.

Rid yourself of the fears that haunt you.

The opportunity to bathe,

In the purest element.

The sidewalk slowly turns a darker shade.

And swiftly the sky starts plummeting down.

The fantastic flashes of light increase in intensity,

The distant protest is now an aggressive roar.

And you revel in the majestic beauty of the rain. 

A Promise

Her head is buzzing and her body is tingling. She feels a pleasant warm sensation in the pit of her stomach, and she knows she’s hit her good state. She places her cup on the table and pulls one of her friends off the sofa to the designated dance floor. This intimate little party is exactly what she needed, some of her closest friends around her, good music and yummy snacks. She sways to the music and turns around to find a group of boys entering the room. She scrutinizes each one ad finally her eyes land on one particular boy. She stares at him, unaware that everyone can see she her eyes linger on him. She finds him attractive, but doesn’t feel like acting on it. Tonight she concentrates on the music, at least that’s what she tells herself then.

Still moving to the music, she walks into another room and takes out her goodies. She finds something missing and tried to make do without it. One by one a few people walk in to see what she’s up to, strangers she hasn’t met before. She greets each one with a polite smile and asks them to join her.  Then he walks in with exactly what she is looking for. Without thinking the first words she says to him are “I don’t even know you, but I think I love you.” They laugh it off, and think nothing of it. They all leave the room and the night progresses.

She stays with her friends and he stays with his. She moves her body on the dance floor and he sits comfortably on one of the sofas. Finally she takes a break and sits down a few seats from him, completely unaware of his presence, just enjoying herself. Suddenly a song starts playing, something her ears didn’t expect to hear tonight. Being in the state she was in with no inhibitions to stop her, she gets up and runs to the source, only to find it was him. Instantly a smile lights up her face and she tells him “I love this song!” And this is how their friendship begins.

One song after another they share their souls with each other, blissfully oblivious of the others around them. Laughing and talking, she doesn’t want him to leave and makes him promise that he won’t. The hours creep by them and slowly people say their goodbyes get in their cars and drive home to their irritated parents, but he stays, he sticks to his promise.  With each minute she feels more deeply for him, their connection grows stronger. It all seems like a fairy tale beginning to a new year and she is surprised she has such a strong grasp on the situation, any other day and she would have felt it was just a dream. But it all feels so real to her. Finally with dawn threatening to break they realize they must end their night, and with their first hug they depart. She breathes in the scent of his skin and wishes she could escape into the new year with him, but knows that she is being naïve even thinking so. As she watches him walk into his car, she knows that it may be the end of the night but it is merely the beginning of something incredible. 

Sister

“Sister. She is your mirror, shining back at you with a world of possibilities. She is your witness, who sees you at your worst and best, and loves you anyway. She is your partner in crime, your midnight companion, someone who knows when you are smiling, even in the dark. She is your teacher, your defense attorney, your personal press agent, even your shrink. Some days, she's the reason you wish you were an only child.” 
― Barbara Alpert


She came to me at night, 
Asking to sleep by me,
She feels scared,
The change is too much for her to handle.
I make a face and force her away.
Her mouth turns into a frown and she walks away. 
A few minutes pass, 
And I realize that I caused her pain.
I walk to her room,
The moonlight falls on her pale face.
A single tear trickles down my cheek
I think of when she was just one.
How she has grown up now.
She has always been there, 
To laugh with, to cry with, to fight with, to irritate.
To exchange stories with in the middle of the night.
Life without her would be incomplete.
I can't live without her.
I lay down next to her and hold her small hand in mine, 
Whisper the words 'I Love You' in her ears, 
And watch her fall into a deep slumber.
My little sister is one person I would never be able to live without.

She - Simplicity

Simplicity.

She wakes up every morning to sloppy kisses reminding her that it is time to go outside. She talks as she puts on her shoes and wears her jacket, all the while her friend listens patiently. As she reaches for the leash, her friend bursts with excitement, putting a smile on her face every morning. Her friend doesn’t ask for much, just some food, shelter and a few walks every day, in return her friend gives her a lot of love, the kind of love that can only be understood between them. Her friend is a sweet and simple soul, enjoys eating and sleeping, lounging in the sun. She wishes desperately she could lead her life the way her friend does. She is always greeted with enthusiasm as if she had gone on a long voyage. She can divulge all her secrets to her friends and knows that she will never be betrayed. On stormy nights when she can’t sleep they stay up together, watching the rain fall outside the window, listening to the distant rumbles. When she cries and has no one to go to, her friend always sits by her side, giving her all the comfort she needs. Her friend is the best friend she could ever have.

She - Perpetual

Perpetual.

She is tired but can’t fall asleep. She has been in this situation one too many times and is quite familiar with what comes next and yet she still fights the urge to retire for the day. Her eyes are sore just waiting to close and she has so many ideas running through her mind. She can't think of closing her eyes for a second, because she knows the thoughts will continue to scream at her in her brain. So many things she has to say, has to do, has to think, there is no time to just stop and sleep. The gears need to be in perpetual motion there is no other way she can complete all that she must. She knows this and accepts it, she is tough and will make it through. Deadlines loom menacingly close and she must work her nimble fingers to the bone, typing endless pages of words that seem to make no sense to her, solving, what seems to be an infinite number of problems. Every time she has to stop and there is a disruption in her flow of words she scolds herself for dillydallying. She pushes and pushes, but the instant she realizes that what she produces isn’t quality she knows it is time to stop. She must put her gadgets away, relax her mind and take a deep breath. Sometimes it's better to just stop. 

Issues and tissues

The problem with writing is, when people who know you read it, they assume that everything you write is about you. But it's not, a lot of it is fiction. And I need everyone to know that. 

She - Undiluted

Undiluted

She opens her eyes to another sweaty summer day, unwilling to get out of bed, wishing she could just stay in bed. Slowly she crawls out of bed, brushes her teeth and goes through the motions of a regular day. Just as she reaches for her laptop she gets a phone call from an old friend. She wonders why he would call her today of all days. She answers the call enthusiastically, only to be met with a solemn tone. A tone that is used only for specific events, and the instant she heard his voice she knew that something was very wrong. There was a long pause and then the words reached her ears, he died. Suddenly all her senses went blank, her ears were pounding and she couldn’t hear anything. Her sight was blurred and all she could see was darkness. Her mouth went dry and it became hard to breathe. Everything was crashing down on her. A tear rolled down her face and the flood gates opened. The phone fell out of her hand and she started heaving and sobbing simultaneously. All her memories of him were flashing back to her, every moment she had ever spent with him. From the first time she said hi, to the last time they discussed an exam together. She didn’t know him all that well, but well enough. She recalled all the times they had argued, and the times they listened to their favourite music together. It all seemed so unfair, that someone like him would meet such a fate. He was so young and had so much more to see and do. She had never experienced anything like this, this feeling of absolute undiluted sadness. After the tears subsided and she regained control, the only thought in her mind was of him somewhere in the universe, enjoying himself, away from the awfulness of the world. But deep in her mind she couldn’t let go of the fact that it was completely unreasonable, according to her it wasn’t time for him to leave.

She - Connections

Connections

Her eyes sting as she brushes away the hot fat tears streaming down her cheeks. She sits reminiscing about the days when she was always surrounded by those special people. She recalls the endless conversations and the late nights, how they would sit with the pretense to study but instead end up laughing into the wee hours of the night.She could share anything with them and knew they would not think less of her. She respected them and watched them grow as individuals while they helped her grow. Two years have passed and so much has changed. She is now in a world where she sits alone all day, waiting for something to happen. The highlight of her days being a walk down to the store. Surrounded by people constantly moving, never have a moment to spare. People who say they care but in reality are silently judging her every move, and she knows. How can she even consider living in such a world? It may be childish of her, and she might just need to accept it, but she’d rather hold on to the belief that there are people out there who care. People like those select few who used to care so much, and still do. She knows that they are just a phone call away, but sometimes that is just not enough. All these thoughts run through her mind and suddenly her phone lights up, it is one of them. And all of her sudden a smile creeps on her face and she knows everything will be alright; she still has them by her side. Their connection runs deeper than blood; they are connected by their souls.

She - Wondering

Wondering

She lies on her bed, listening to music, wishing life was different. She closes her eyes and wonders what would her perfect world be like? It would be a world where her parents didn’t fight; they would actually love each other and understand each other. Where they accept each other’s flaw and work as a team, instead of against each other. It would be a world where she isn’t afraid to be who she is, she is free, and has so inhibitions. She needn’t worry about looks, status or any of those silly superficial worries that exist in reality. She can be true to herself without being shunned, and coexist peacefully with others. It would be a world where she would have someone who loves her for who she is inside and out. He would promise that he will stay and then keep the promise; he would treat her like a princess and never take advantage of her. In her perfect world she would never feel despair or depression. No life is complete without sadness, she knows, but in her perfect world the sadness will not consume her. In her perfect world she would do whatever she wants and no one would ever judge her. Everyone welcomes differences with open arms instead of guns and war. If only her perfect world existed. She opens her eyes and snaps back to reality. 

She - Hiding

Hiding.

If only she didn’t have to play this game every time she went there. Put on a fake smile, use a sweet voice and respect him. The worst part is having to respect him, how can she respect a man who has crossed so man moral boundaries. She must pretend that nothing ever happened and that the past was not a part of reality. Every time she sets out to meet him, she tries to forget it, push the thoughts in to the deepest, darkest corners of her thought. But the instant she sees his face she is transported, back to when it all took place, back to when she had no idea what was happening to her. Despite it being years ago she remembers it clearly, as if it was yesterday. Her memories play back to her like a silent film, she felt as if she was being forced to watch it, again and again.


She remembers feeling uneasy, but not questioning it. She was supposed to trust him, and never disobey him, she had been taught to never question her elders, their word was law. He told her it would be their little secret, and threatened her with severe consequences if she ever uttered a word. Obviously she had no choice but to keep it to herself, what else is a 5 year old child to do? Every year when her family would visit she would go through it, she started dreading the trips to her motherland, and would try and avoid being alone with him when staying at his house. But he always managed to pull her aside, whether it be with the pretense of giving her a chocolate or by saying she wanted to spend time with his eldest grandchild. He would take her into his room and no one would suspect a thing. She would have to listen to him, because if she objected he would call her a silly little girl and chastise her for no trusting him. She endured for years without saying a word, it killed her inside and as she grew older she realized what he was doing to her. 


It was only when she realized he might start doing the same to someone dear to her. Someone who was still as innocent as she was when he started with her. She knew it was time to speak out, for the sake of the other girl. She was too scared and didn't want the other girl to live with the same pain. If she didn't stop it before it started, she might as well have been committing the act herself. And so she confided in someone, and she expected him to be punished. However, instead of being drawn out into the open, it was just shoved under the rug. It had stopped but only because she stopped listening to him. At first when she told someone she thought she would feel relieved, and she did for a short while.  She thought she would never have to see his face again, that finally she wouldn’t have to go through it. Little did she know that she would have to continue reliving it for years. Continue feeling vulnerable and exposed. But at least no one else had to go through it. The only thing she can do is keep hiding.

She - Them

Them

Her throat is hoarse and her eyes are damp and itchy. She is tired of screaming and not being heard. They will never understand what she is trying to say, who she is trying to be. She just wants to be herself but she doesn’t know how and they aren’t helping her. She can’t believe she is actually a part of them, that their blood runs through her veins. How can she be made from these two completely different individuals? It seems impossible that she is related to them, because whatever she says makes no sense to them and whatever they say makes no sense to her. They live in a bubble of anger, distrust and disappointment. She would do anything, if only they tried to comprehend what she wants to express. It’s not that she doesn't love them or they don’t love her. The love is there, but that is the only thing that is there, the rest just doesn’t make sense. How can these three individuals possibly coexist under the same roof in such close proximity? If they want to help her they should support her and allow her to be her own person, instead of ruling every action she takes and then claiming that they have let her do what she wants. She has lived her life worried that anything she will do, will be wrong, will not be good enough. And the one time she made a decision for herself they don’t understand it. Because society says that the decision she has made is stupid and reckless. But she did it for her survival; she did it so that her soul would stay intact. Had she stayed and continued to live in fear of society, in fear of them, she would have been completed devastated. She would not remain, not even a shadow of her. They tell her to work on fixing herself. But this is just how she is.

She - Warmth

Warmth

She feels a curious sensation in her stomach, not nausea, but a pleasant tickling. A feeling she has never experienced before. Something similar to how she feels when she's on a roller coaster. She feels warm and gooey inside, like one of the chocolate chip cookies her mother makes, fresh out of the oven. And a rush of blood goes to her head. Her palms sweat uncontrollably and she can't think straight.

She feels this every time she sees him or hears his voice. She doesn’t know what it is but she is enjoying it. She tries to catch glimpses of him from the side of her eye whenever possible. Hoping to catch his eye, but to scared to look right at him. Just knowing that he is present on this earth makes her smile; she wonders how such a creature could have this kind of effect on her. Isn’t she supposed to be repulsed by his gender? She can’t let anyone know of this feeling she has for him, it will be her little secret. She imagines what his skin smells like. What his hair feels like and what is going through his mind right now. Part of her wants to be next to him whenever possible and the other part of her just wants to observe him from a comfortable distance. She can’t get him out of her mind, but she is okay with that, she likes him there. 

She - Time

Time

She stares at the creases in her hands, the many intricate lines, crisscrossing and weaving a pattern so complex and difficult to untangle. Each line has grown with her over time, seen what she has seen. Each line tells a special story, a story she can't even begin to understand, let alone explain. The patterns are unique and seem like a mystery to her, just waiting to be solved. She wonders how her hands have become so detailed over time, how with life, the lines on her hands have become more complicated. 

She notices how coarse her palms have become. They used to be so soft and so curious, touching and exploring the world around her. Holding on to whatever she could grab. Now she moves through life going through the motions, not stopping just doing what she is expected to, she has become tough and needs to be in a world like this. She would always question “What is this?” "Why is this?" When did she stop asking and just start accepting? Accepting things, ideas, actions, the way of life; she started living her life without asking herself if it was right or wrong, without considering that fact that it may not be the path for her. She stares at the creases in her hands and wonders what stories the lines would tell the world if they could speak. What she has gone through, what she will go through. Just like the bark of a tree, her hands will continue to grow hard and scarred. 

She - Secrets

Secrets

The dark night surrounds her, stars winking at her, telling her they’ll keep her secret. The leaves rustle with the slight breeze and a shiver runs down her spine. She sparks a match and lights the cigarette placed between her chapped lips. The first drag is always the lightest. She inhales the toxic air and feels all the release. Her body relaxes and her mind turns sluggish. In that one moment she forgets everything, the only thing on her mind is this pleasure she feels. She glances from the side of her eyes, making sure that no one is coming to disturb her moment of solitude. As she sits there, enjoying this terrible piece of candy, she takes in her surroundings. 

This great big world waiting for her to make it hers, just waiting for her to work her magic. And with each thought the ashes fall to the ground, slowly finishing, she knows this wonderful feeling won’t last forever. This is just a momentary escape. She tries to make it last longer, but she knows no matter how hard she tries it will end. She listens to the sounds of the night, a lone car crawling through the dark, dogs wailing looking for their mates. Almost everyone has retired to their beds, deep in slumber, recharging their bodies for another day. Their souls restless, wanting to break free from this monotony. She wonders who sits with their lights still on. Perhaps there are others like her, contemplating what to do with their lives. One hundred years is a long time, how could they possibly make each day memorable. What can they achieve in the one hundred years they have been given. She puts her cigarette out and doesn’t feel like moving, if only she could just stay in this one moment. This one moment where she feels nothing, nothing bad, nothing good, she just knows her heart is beating. This state of pure existence, simple meditation. 

An outsider's view.

That woman you see walking on the street

Her burden is more than just what you see her carry

She must brace the cold harsh winters

And survive the gruelling heat

While she tends to the cattle

She must feed her children

The strong scent of sweat and cow dung encase her

By the end of the day

A layer of dust sheathes her body

Every morning

She wakes before the birds

Cleans herself of yesterday’s grit

Runs a comb through her ink black tresses

Laces her hair with jasmine flowers

Says her daily prayers

Then she must help her husband with the crop

He thanks her in the evening

By coming home intoxicated

She must muffle her cries while she is beaten

To protect her innocent children from the truth

At nights she cannot sleep

Her body is exhausted

But her mind keeps working

The floor absorbs her silent tears

The only comfort she has

Is the promise of another day

She pulls through hoping

That with the sun

Will come a new era

A new dawn

That will bring change

That woman you see on the street has a story

You can see it,

In the wrinkles on her face

The roughness of her hands

The slight gleem in her eyes

You just have to look deep

And you will see

That the woman on the street isn’t ordinary

She is extraordinary.

She - Disintegrating

Disintegrating

She sits on the curb clutching her heart in her hand, losing grip on the pieces that are left over, wondering if it’s worth anything anymore. Should she even consider giving it away one more time? Give it away to someone she thinks will help mend it. Only to realize that once again, it will be torn to pieces and left in a state where even its owner cannot recognize it. She will once again, spend endless nights cursing herself and regretting the fact that she trusted someone else with something that belongs solely to her. Who will even want such a tattered heart, full of scars and completely disfigured. 

But even if she did allow someone else to hold it, she knows that when it’s finally time to pick up the pieces, she won’t. She feels weary and wonders if there is any point of going through the shreds again. Once anything has been broken so many times is there any reason behind keeping it alive. You can fix something only so many times, after a while it isn’t the same anymore, it stops working. So she sits and stares at the remains she holds in her hand. She watches as the wind sweeps away the shards of what were left. She feels the void but she is indifferent to the hollowness that she experiences. The vicious cycle is severed. Nothing left to give away. Nothing left to fix. There is just the empty shell, burnt out headlights and a blank expression. She witnesses her slow disintegration into the one thing she never wanted to be, heartless. 

She - Beginning

Beginning

It is the first moment she is truly conscious, it is as if she has opened her eyes after a long, deep slumber. It is a strange feeling, but she feels refreshed. She now has the ability to think, and the first thing she notices with this power is the steady beating she hears. That sound resonates inside her, the strong, unwavering beat. The sound brings her a sense of peace and even though there is darkness around her she feels the warm glow of light. Then she notices the fact that she can think, her first question to herself is “Who am I?” She cannot come up with an answer, but that doesn’t bother her in the least. She has too many other thoughts to come up with. She will get her answer to that question in time.

Does she know that this very question will haunt her, her entire life? It will become the driving force of everything she does. She will always be looking for an answer to satisfy her thirst. Does she know that as she grows and matures, she will experience different things that will change who she is? If only she had satisfied herself with some answer, any answer is better than none. But at that point in time, she has no clue of what awaits and is blissfully unaware of what she has done to herself. She allows the beating to carry her back to sleep, she knows she is safe. She can sense it. And so starts her life. Whether she is ready to live it or not, it has begun.