maa.

'you will be happy.'  These were her words that came along her good-bye. With a tear drop, ofcourse.

Everything begins with her. Everything. Your existence. Your Life. Your words. Your love.  And, 'you'.
Yes, this one is for the 'mother'.

It's strange how you can read my mind. How can the same sad face tell you if it was because of the favorite pen i lost, the dress i skipped to buy, or if it was the heart which was broken. Do you have that magic wand on your shelf, or the crystal-ball under your bed?

'How do i look?'.
'Obviously pretty.'
So, the Quest : Why always the same answer (often deceptive), maa? No excuses please! Your lie made me wear a fluorescent orange dress when i was 4. Well, now you know, that i understand.

Confessions- yes, i broke your favorite crockery  and not the maid. I hid my sister's (mamun) watch, and that's how it was lost. Not her fault. I hid my Hindi answer-script when i flunked, and..a lot more. But yes, i know that you already know these. You were the perfect actress.

Now, when i have grown up to be a lady, i am so proud that it was your womb where i found my existence. Every word of yours made me the strong person i am today. You taught me how to love, and be loved.
You taught me what priorities are all about. You helped me mend my broken heart. You helped me to weave back the shattered dreams. You made me who i am.
Thank you for being the best friend. Thank you for your support.

I know that it was hard bringing me up, but i know you did all you could. You smiled when i kicked. You sang when i cried. You were patient when i talked endlessly. For all the sleepless nights, you had for me- bohut morom maa. ('love to you maa').

Today i am missing you too much. But your thoughts made me strong again.

with love, meeky.

horizon.

A thousand letters;
a million words,
a million promises,
a million memories,
but, miles apart.

A song;
a drift,
a smile,
a teardrop,
but,
the dark.

A spell;
a step closer,
a touch,
a kiss,
but,
the 'dream'.

A dream illusioned;
a thousand letters unwritten,
a song unsung,
a spell broken,
The horizon.

The Hindu : NATIONAL / TAMIL NADU : Now, machines can read mind

The Hindu : NATIONAL / TAMIL NADU : Now, machines can read mind
one of the good times :)

Not Alone, But Yes.

There she lies in the arms of her abettor, with no fear of the unforeseeable. The mist on the window pane hides her past.

Past. To her, he seemed to be a blurred illusion. His colors were no longer as bright as it used to be. It was raining. But the cold could not touch her, she was colder.

she kept reading the same letter of Ted. Imagining and repeating.

"could you not feel?
could you not see?
my ashtray's filled,
not with the burning ashes,
but your memories,

I am the life, you disbelieve;
your adieu, my grieve."

i love you.

"coffee?" suddenly calls the abettor; a friend, a lover. His smile was a comfort, and his eyes the truth. "Thank you", said she.
"So, would you let your Today love me?" he smiled. Another day of his wait.
"'Today' is yet to come", she smiled.

She took a sip, and watch him clear the mist. could no longer hide it. She closed her eyes, lying in his arms.

The adieu

               Now...after coming past the much awaited celebration (my sister getting married), i am on my way back to the same old pavilion.i remember my last journey. The much awaited 'time'. Good times.
               To hate the long (really long) journey itself is as true as gold, but then i do realize that i have a part of my life back here. VIT.
                I believe (by now) that life is a  roller-coaster ride; well said Bryan! 'nothing lasts forever': philosophical it sounds, but true it is. Nothing, except a very few- 'very few' things in life continues to bear its importance with time. Family has definitely an immortal part in one's life. True. But as we move on, i realize, things get away. Losing its importance is not the fact, but merging of rising priorities and standing to the changing situations takes it all. I did the butterflies on my tiny toes, but now they seem to have flown away. Now i see them in the tiny ones' toes. The smile is still the same, but the butterflies don't tickle me.
                               This day, i regret over just one thing. i should have spoken. I daresay and believe, there are two things which counterpart priorities: never let it be unspoken, and never let it be unfelt. Granted is never a good word.
Mumbai; time for boarding. Don't wish to miss this flight, bye. (switchedoff)

written long back; dedicated to someone who never heard my words.
well said,

"Getting in touch with your true self must be your first priority."

Tom Hopkins

evoked, yet again.

The eyes meet the eyes.
The breathe warms my cold soul.
The hands hide my tiny finger.
The strings of our hearts make the perfect tune;
the tunes to which my soul dances on, with all the moves which gets us closer.
The distance now rips open my heart like the slashes of the freezing wind.
now that i miss you,
so, i tell you.
when there's a flash back,
"you make my life worth-watching."

rain, you are.

Are you the tickle which makes the li'l orphan smile,
Or are you the bubble, i see play?
Are you the crinkle, the 'lost' smiles at?
Are you the lost toy found, that makes the child laugh?
Are you the kiss of the beloved, she lost?
Are the wedding ring, which sparkles in her eyes?
Are you that hug, that takes away the last tear?
Are you the moment, which never let us go?
you are the rain, i love.