01 - 06 - 2018
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In the video: @vaishali_1402 //Strawberry, soaked in whisky// I remember when I first met her, it was nothing magical no. It was just as normal as it could get. And yet, I somehow remember every detail of it. But this is not about how I first met her. This is about her. This is about my Maseer. Maseer is quite a mess, and yet she's perilously poised. She stands out starkly against my pale planet. You'll find her introverting in the room's corner, yet somehow landing in the centre of every human heart. She pours her soul out to the people, dwelling with great gusto on it's ability to set them free. She's like strawberry, but soaked in whisky. She's like an old favorite book, dulcet - deep - and dusty. She's untold of and cosmic from within. She, she's a little of everything. I remember recording her, she used to love it. This was roughly our third or fourth meeting. Infact we have only met seven or eight times. And I remember when she left, it was nothing dramatic no. It was quite bearable to be honest. And of course, I remember every detail of it. But this is not about how she left. This is about her. This is about my Maseer. And I am just glad, Maseer happened. -- KP
PC: @q.r.i.s.t.i.n.e //Fiction- 2.0// She gets countless bumps on her skin when every morning he wakes her up and recites to her the exact same words, “wake up my love, wake up and tell me this is not a dream”. It was like their own sweet little morning ritual, and he'd religiously do it, every morning, without fail. Joshua is quite a dreamer. And Jane, very very realistic. So this ritual made even more sense and had this hidden poetic connotation to it which they realized one evening while talking about it over tea. But that evening tea was particularly indicative of something else all together. That evening tea was not about Joshua and Jane's modest morning ritual, it wasn't even about that tempting tea Joshua had prepared, and it was definitely not about the sensational sunset of that evening which Jane tried to paint while Joshua helped her mix the colors. That evening tea, was infact a celebration. //Okay, so Joshua and Jane had a very peculiar understanding of celebration. They'd just sit down for an evening tea, play light music of Jane's choice and do something together. It could be anything (which normally Joshua suggested) talking, reading, painting, writing or let's say even just listening to the music but no matter what they'd decide, they'd do it together, and they'd do it just as if they're consuming it, together, note after note if it's music, color after color if it's painting, they'd bite and extract every juice out of the act and phase out to a world where only Joshua and Jane existed where there was no past and no future, no life and no death, no story and no interval, everything that was, was how they felt in that moment, and that ethereal feeling that foreign feeling of wholeness and oneness was infact their celebration. Continued in comments.
//Fiction - 1.0// Standing below the hoarding that said ‘it's your turn’; she awkwardly says to herself - “No, it's not.” Sabika was having a really bad day. The morning coffee she made for herself turned out to be everything but how she liked it. Her dog ruined her neatly ironed outfit for the day. She stumbled on the stairs and broke her favorite pair of sandals. Good thing, she didn't fall. Okay yes, she is terrible at falling in love though. Even more so, at being an ideal friend everyday. But then the novelists love to dedicate chapters on a rare bird like her, especially for her winsome tone towards life. Though at the moment, she had no interest in either flying or being written about. Infact, she has never liked too much attention. But after receiving no attention from the auto rikshaws, at almost 5 pm Sabika felt defeated and declared an official bad day. So she decides to take a cab over her regular rikshaw rides. Though this rough ride from coffee to the cab, wasn't something she couldn't endure. Endurance wasn't new to Sabika. She had quite a heart for it. She was bullied as a kid, had two bad relationships as a teenager and even today, she likes to spend most of her time alone. But she wasn't alone standing below that hoarding anymore. The cab driver arrived on time and even greeted Sabika with a 'Goodevening ma'am’. Sabika smiled, probably for the second time today. Second, because first was always after brushing her teeth of course. The radio further brushed off the bad day feels by playing Sabika's favorite song. Sabika opened her window to enjoy the wind as the wind enjoyed playing with her hair. Now, her smile had a hint of victory. Because, she did say it wasn't her turn to have a bad day, right? She clicks a picture of herself and makes a diary entry: “There are days when all you want to do is smile. There are days when everything's just okay. And then there are bad days, but then for every bad day there's also a certain cab driver to greet you with a smile, there's radio to play your favorite song and hell, there's everything around conspiring for one glimpse of your endearing smile. So smile. Or it'll come looking for you, anyway.” -- KP
I// I sometimes go out and buy a 5 rupees packet of chips or Kurkure and eat the entire packet myself, standing in front of the shop. While I do that, I look around and find so many fine examples of failure. And I see myself in their disappointed faces. I sometimes let people cross the road and teach patience to my accelerator. While I do that, I look around and find that unexpressed expression of gratitude on their faces. And I see myself in their obscured smile. I sometimes wake up specially to wake you up and stay awake for next 30 minutes to make sure you don't sleep again. And while I do that, I look around and find tiny blurry letters of your name floating around me or maybe it's just my lack of sleep. And I see myself in the 17 calls I made to wake you up. And I sometimes walk myself to the soda shop after dinner. And while I do that, I look around and find tired souls looking for something they don't even know. And I see myself in their confused eyes. And you know sometimes I just sit down wherever I am and try to write down a line or two. While I to do that, I look around and find absolutely nothing for motivation. And I see myself in the pathetically blank screen of my phone's notes. I sometimes realize that I write shit, and that I don't really know who I am. And while I do that, I look around and find no clue of myself, no words at my rescue. All I see is my reflection- in the brilliant questions I never asked, in the powerful observations I never made and the beautiful poems I'm not capable to write. -- KP
Love// So I made the graphic for these posts before even writing a word. And my app asked me if I wanted a 'strikethrough' for 'love' and I went all hell yeah. Because didn't love strike, through me too? What's better, to have never loved or to have loved and lost? How is it like to have never been loved at all? If I've lost everytime I've loved, does that make me a loser or a lover? I don't have the answers. But these questions strike me like a speck of dust stuck in my eyes, unwilling to show itself out. I'm beginning to understand that maybe love isn't about the answers. Maybe it's supposed to confuse us. Maybe it's out there for nothing, with no pretext at all. Maybe love doesn't know any Hows and Whys. Because is it even love, if it's for a reason? All I know is I want to love. And I want my love to pull you out of the abyss and take you on a ride of this gorgeous universe where it doesn't even matter what love means, Because is it even love, if it's confined to a meaning? I'm 22 years old now and I am so sure I don't understand love. And I don't think I ever will. Because is it even love, if it's understood? -- KP
You// I don't know you, yet I can tell every detail of you. I'm not even sure if I'll ever meet you, I don't even expect to because aren't you too perfect for my eyes to actually see? I think of your shoulders and tilt my face whenever I need one to cry on. I think of your smile and freeze it in front of my eyes to help me relax when my soul is scared of something. I move my fingers randomly in the empty space imagining your stunning hair locks whenever I am confused and cannot take a decision. And I let your voice and words replay in my heart when I can't find my motivation to live anymore. You make my life easy. I can't imagine a life without you, while you are just an idea. And hell, I can't imagine a life with you because having you for real would be too perfect to fathom. The conflict that I live in, the paradox that I have created for myself isn't something I am worried about. I worry, if you are real. Because if you are, you can leave. You will, infact. And I don't think I can swallow that pain all over again. -- KP
PC: @sreepoorna31 // I don't know how love works. All I know is I found it once. All I know is I held it for a while. All I know is I let it go. And for all I know, I'll find it again. And when I do, I will hold it again, Probably for few more minutes this time. And when I do, I might let go again. But for all I know, I'll find it again. I loved you then, I'll love you again. It was raining then, so it will again. The light has no idea, The day is unaware. We meet in the darkness, For the moon doesn't care. I hate the days, for it's real but pretentious. I like our nights, it's honest and precious. I'm tired of this role I've been playing for a while. It's real but not true. Because the truth is, I've never, even for a moment not loved you. And before you wonder, you deserve it or not. It's you, not me who's worth giving it a shot! It has been a long day, baby; The sun has been shining for quite a while, but in vain. For all I know, It will set, and we'll fall in love, all over again. -- KP
PC : @tanyakanwar //Defenestration// Even today, I can feel you by that window. It's like you are still sitting there. I sometimes stand near the window and take a deep breath, and I count 1, 2, 3 in my mind while breathing in. On my third count I can smell your hair. By my fifth count I can smell the whole of you. I think I don't even remember now, what comes after 5. But that's how I remember how you smelled. And I see you sometimes. It always has to be at that perfect moment when the sun completely sets. I've to come back home from office just before sunset. You remember how we used to watch the sun set from this window? Inch after inch. I still do that. And the moment it's gone, in that precise moment of brisk and crisp darkness; I see you. It's almost like I can hold your face. And that's how I remember how you looked. If there's any magic in this world, it has to be in the windows of our houses. Find it, you'll see how windows absorb our emotions. You'll see how windows are where life's untold details get immortalized. But lately, I can't smell you as strongly as I once could. Is it because I slept with Jennifer last night? I swear, that was nothing. But lately, when I try to see you; your face fades away so quickly. I can barely catch a glimpse, it feels so unreal. It kind of demeans all those days when I could almost hold your face. It's so sad, you have no idea. And lately, I've been having these weird dreams where I see you jump from this very window. Or did I push you? It's not very clear in the dream. But I wake up sobbing and feeling like a room with a window that wouldn't close properly. -- KP
Last night I almost cried to sleep. Almost, because I couldn't sleep. Almost, because I couldn't cry either. Last night, मेरी अँधेरे से गुफ़्तगू हो गयी! हमने भी पूछ लिया, तुम सोती क्यों नहीं? और वो मुस्कुराकर मेरी नींद ले गयी! Last night, I questioned my existence. I wasn't suicidal to be honest because my FOMO is too strong for that. But, मेरी कशमकश बस यही थी, कि इक बिन पर के परिंदे का मज़हब क्या है? कि मेरे ज़िंदा होने का मतलब क्या है? या.. है भी या नही। Last night I thought of everyone I have ever known. Everyone, I've ever known and lost. How ironic it is to find dead pieces of us in memories, in the memories that have somehow kept us alive in the first place. मेरे दिल ने कहा; चलो पुराने रिश्तों को ताज़ा करते है, दिल किसका कितना टूटा ये अंदाज़ा करते है। Last night I wished, the smoke of my cigarettes could enter the cracks of your heart. And then maybe, just maybe, you'd stop asking why. And then in no time, last night was about thinking how ridiculously single I am. Which reiterated the question - Who I am (??) I'm definitely not the man of your dreams, Don't put that pressure on me. I'm a man singing songs with my thumb and writing poems with my tongue. ना कोई शेर हूँ मै, न परिंदा हूँ मै; बस ज़िंदा हूँ मैं। Thoughts after thoughts were piling up. And my thoughts were so so so so repetitive, I almost developed a stutter. I could get up and vomit, but for some reason my brain never gave that command. Last night I felt like a dead man, just lying on my bed for as long as I can remember. But I'm not complaining; बस उस वक़्त के एहसास को, जज़बात के कलम से, इक दफ़ा, कागज़ पे उतारा है। की देख ले ऐ दुनिया, कितनी फक्र से ये कातिब, एक बार फिर ज़िन्दगी से हारा है। -- KP
LETTER (3/3) A letter to Wolverine. “Bad shit happens to people I care about” Dear Logan, You are the only superhero I know. Period. Out of all the superheroes of all the universes ever written, you are the only one I can identify with. Not just because you're neither a God nor a rich science nerd (Ahh) (Thank God) but because yeah, you're the best. Because you're so full of crap, because you're such a mess, because you're in so much pain, because you're everything a superhero is not and more. Because when you said "Don't be what they made you to be", I decided to be whatever the hell I wanted to be. Because through you, I can see not just your superpowers but also a hint of your humanity, your flaws, your problems, your anxieties. Because when Professor told you 'I gave you a family' and you replied with 'and they're gone now', I almost broke down even if you didn't. Also your 'At least there's water' after burying Charles HIT ME HARD. AHH. Your life had been plagued by betrayal and tragedy, you were in a constant fight with your own animalistic rage, and yet there you stood; never really trying to be the hero but always fighting for good and doing what you knew was right. Even if it was you who had healing powers, your sarcasm and 'Take no shit' attitude helped our alter ego heal, A LOT. “There was a time when a bad day was just a bad day” It was heartbreaking to see the old and beaten version of you. I'd have done anything, anything to not let you- let yourself die. From the moment you first busted out your adamantium claws in the X:Men, to the weakened, weary version of you, reduced to driving limos and hiding your identity; I've loved you. And I always will. And with you gone now, the child in me is left with no superhero to look up to. Wherever you are now, I really hope you found your boat; while I continue my struggle to find mine. PS : you know, I knew there wasn't any post credit scenes for 'Logan'; but I still waited. I was there. Where were you? -- A wolf from your pack.
LETTER (2/3) A letter to Dementors. Not so Dear Dementors, While we celebrate the 20 years of Harry Potter, everyone is busy appreciating all the amazing characters of the Potterverse. But here I am, writing a letter to you. Because strangely, you have all my attention tonight. Bleak and black. Cursed and cold. You remind me of all the pain I hold. The way you float menacingly with your slimy body parts, you remind me of all my nightmares that once were fresh starts. and Your ability to freeze the air around you, Somehow explains the chilly summer night too. You force your victims to relive their bleakest, most heart-breaking momories seldom spoken. I can feel having been there, chosen, frozen and broken. Dementors, you are among the foulest creatures that walk this earth. You infest the darkest, filthiest places, you glory in decay, despair and dearth. There's something about you that makes you my most familiar evil; I wonder what you do of all the good feelings and happy memories, that you suck out of people! When you turn someone something like yourself – soulless and evil, leaving nothing but the worst experiences of their life. I wonder what it is that's driving me towards you, but I hope it's just curioisity this time. I hope you get this letter, and I hope you come for me. Because sooner or later, we'll meet; and I shall be free.
LETTER (1/3) A #letter to Samwell Tarly. Oh Sam! You are definitely the most underrated fictional character of the fantasy universe. But here I am, writing a letter to you because there's no one else who'd understand. Exiled to the Night's Watch by your own father, a father who expected you to be something else. A lot of us here, Sam, have been fighting this war, trying to be something else. And believe me when I say this, we wish there was a Night's watch for us. Rejected and bullied by your new brothers, you never had it easy. Humiliation and Torture followed you everywhere you went. But there you stood, fighting against all odds and full of compassion. Even after forever being opressed and experiencing so much hate, you had the strength to show love and you had the persistence to care. Your 'I read it in a book' resonates with the reader and writer in me more than I can express. And when you killed a friggin' White Walker, you displayed unparalleled bravery and somehow made me reconsider my abilities. Today, with this letter I'd like to do what you did for Jon, when you said, “He may be young but he's the commander we turned to when the night was darkest.” So let me tell you; you may not be the Fan's favorite, you may not be a very skillful warrior, you may be rejected and battered, but when MY night is darkest and I am surrounded by the white walkers of my world, I'll always turn to you because it's you who taught me how to face my fear. “When you're nothing at all there's no more reason to be afraid.” Here's to being afraid, because it's okay. Here's to being nothing. Here's to being Samwell Tarly. Here's to being a true friend. Here's to being ordinarily extraordinary. Here's to the reading warrior.
Let the poems breathe.
Lungs don't lie.
//About your “ tomorrow? ”// Thankyou @sachdevaaashna , यह फ़ोटो क्लिक करने के लिए। 💕