What about my rust? 

I wonder how it feels when some soulful human is undoing all the tangled strings of your heart. 

I wonder how if feels when you surrender yourself as if that person were hypnotic. 

I wonder how it feels when you decide to let loose the parts you were sure you are keeping undigged for the rest of your life. 

I wonder about someone who’d let my heart be free and soul be wild and my body unburdened, For i have waited too long for someone who’d touch me at parts i am vulnerably sensible at. 

For am too tired servicing the old screws and nuts of this world, why do they forget about the parts of me that have rusted now? 

For i know when another time,  they come to me for a good repair, I’d be ready with my apprentice and once again my rust will go unnoticed. 

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Acceptance, a fear? 

You know the tragic part? 

We fear accepting love openly as if it were a monster. And hatred has been a charmer, always. 

We start walking to our graves from the moment we’re born, Why don’t we realise malice is only shortening that walk and love lengthens it, not in quantified terms.  

for those of you who’d wonder if love would lengthen it by days or months or years. Love lengthens it by moments you’d spent for the paths you tread for others, with others and that my friend, is life! 

Life is when you exact happiness not only for own soul but for others as we’re all souls craving for love to befall like confetti, only because we’re not well versed in coldness. 

And what heart the fire wont melt, Words of love,  will. 

Learn to accept love, for it is all while we are. We’re gone and sob stories won’t reach for all our life we feared acceptance and turned around hoping the other person would understand your gestures. 

I hope you know your soul fears acceptance not because you loath love or you just accidentally fell for someone, but because you fear reflexes, you fear response and that is not a consequence if our love is pure.

So i hope today i can ask your opinion on acceptance and I wish  you’d tell me you don’t fear anymore. 

And if you still fear telling me you love me with all that you got,  I’d try again, in another life, in the parallel universe to get this fear out of you for you dont know the calm it gives to know that there are souls you connect and souls that do not fear the connection. 

But maybe, in another life, i fail again,  Because this garb you wear over your soul telling me gestures are enough comforts you and then in the parallel universe we’ll negotiate that i wont amend you but i will keep trying and you won’t change, but as i said, we’ll negotiate for the fact that we need to fall again in this universe to be there for another time so that we can try again and fail again and try again and go on for an eternity with you laughing our love off and I,  trying to figure you out. 

Power. 

Little do we realize how much power we possess inside the bones and the veins and tiny spaces in between. The fact that tears me apart that we all, as human beings look at ourselves with ways we totally do not deserve. 

By the time we realise that our life is mostly about how we treat ourselves,  we are standing to bid adieu. 

How tragic it is to know and accept that i have cried for people who made me believe that i am not good enough. Irony much that same people have taught me things about myself which have been latent all my life. 

People are like bubbles and so am i, like one of those who dissappear even before you know. And all you’ll be left with is their moistness you  feel post a bubble bursts on your hands. 

i fear losing people, i am using complete simple present because i am not over this influence yet. The degree of fascination is same, what i need to realise is people are no end to your search, you find someone, you might like or dislike them. In case you like them, you stop, you might dwell, but that dwelling is not the kind you live forever in, i do not promote dwelling temporarily what i promote is give up dwelling at all. 

Because of a simple reason, all People are good, sometimes some people are not just good for you that does not make them bad for anyone else. So you do not give up loving at all, you just realise you do not have to fall for everyone and not everyone will fall for you. 

And in the case when not everyone will fall for you, i hope you also realize that doesn’t make you undemanded or out of reach. You are just not the right sync and that’s okay. 

If the thought of anyone not liking you makes you feel anyless important then my friend your soul is powerless. 

Give it power to believe. 

To believe inyour imperfections,your moles, your undone brows, your unwaxed body or your skinny waist, gapless thighs, of curly hair, body piercings, no tattoos, of all tattoos, your flat liplipe, or of the space between your breasts or the birth mark at your back. 

 I hope you have given your soul the power to believe in yourself more than anyone has believed in you. Loving has never been a crime, being stuck im betrayals and not accepting rejections is a sin. 

A sin because you know there is this signal, train has left and you are still not crossing the road because you fear the train might come again, and you might face a betrayal again. You need to cross the road not because i can guarantee you no betrayals but because i see more strength and lustre on the other side. 

also at times you fear crossing the road because you have started believing you’re not good enough, as if the road would ever tell you that your feet aren’t meant to tread on it. 

Why are you ready to push your soul to believe that you do not deserve to fly because the last time you did you couldn’t? 

As if birds fly right from their nests out? 

I hope one day you’d know you could have crossed the signal before time because people leave you but you do not leave you and that, my friend is the biggest gift. 

All you need is your own shoulder, your own hands for that pat and and your little whispers telling you

you gave yourself the power to believe in your own magic and your soul now loves more and dwells less so you deserve this, you love a lot and talk deep, all you don’t do is get stuck, and that is an evolutionary change, you deserve your own pat. 



The lady next door… 

This is a story about an old woman who resides next to my house, I don’t know if i am overstating it all of a sudden or just the fact that I felt something, too strong, it left me with wet eyes. 
So i want to describe my relationship with her. 

Off and on my tuitions in the evening render me free by 6:30 and that’s the time she’s in the verandah, is visible and is trying to let the hustle of the road sink in her, Maybe she’s trying to understand that she’ll never be able to hustle that way, the speed of vehicles excite and sadden her at the same time. But all of this is under a MAYBE, so who knows what she feels? 

I try to understand her, but never interrogate because i dont know if my words might hit the wrong strings, i wont intend to hurt an old lady, someone whose nice to me. 

So when i get into in my house somewhere around 6:30, hungry, and tired. My body asks for a meal but my eyes are constantly trying to spot her because… Habit? confirmation of her well being? CAN’T ANSWER THAT WITH CERTAINTY. 

You know i dont meet her in vain, i see her and she has a rare but lovingly way of meeting me, even when our next meet is lurking few hours away, She holds my hand, and pats my back for a few seconds, and it is only after that i hear her words. 

Oh, did i mention she has no kids? 

i wonder at times, does she feel lonely? Or has she got into a negotiation with her solitude? i want to ask her if she ever had kids? or they left her? or she has never had any? 

I know any person of my age won’t find this entire plot a matter of interest but to me this is my first story, Some feeling that i have only felt while reading other stories or in movies? 

I know you might lose interest because who cares if An old woman resides by my house and she watches the traffic and she hugs me when i see her? I hope by the end i can make you understand my need to jot this down. 

So, we dont meet for the sake of meeting i have a work, she has assigned. She has a candy bar phone and not daily but twice in a week i have to dial that number because she can’t operate her phone. For the initial weeks i did not dare to question about the person she calls. But my keenness was hitting me hard, it was man she called and i had questions about is he her husband? her son? brother? 

But i couldn’t ask! 

It was Diwali evening And she came to my shop (which is adjacent to my house) for buying candles and other diwali related things , and i do not know how she managed to come over because she was too tired to travel back. 

So she has this bag of candles and other things and a walking stick, a back which has not been straight in awhile and was smiling at me and i havent heard words calmer than hers, “Beta, accompany me till next door.”(this was obviously said in hindi)  i dont know what was calm but i was getting to help this woman in a brand new way, i had to walk her home inspite of pushing the buttons on her phone, but something very joyous. Hitting you all with another maybe, Maybe i was happy that despite living alone she chose to decorate her house, buy herself some diwali gift, That was very moving for me as a neighbor and a person who avails phone of friend for her, i still actually do not know her friend whom she makes me call this way. As a maths student i have lived a life of assumption so i have assumed this person to be a friend, probably the only companion in that age. Did i just lose track? Okay, so i am walking her back to home and as her door comes she slightly lifts my hand, the hand with which i held her hand to support her all the way, and she kisses it, Now that kiss was one of its kind, it left me teary eyed, and another list of maybes is on its way

  • Maybe that was the first ever type of kiss i had got. 
  • Maybe i was too happy breaking our stereotypical way of meeting. 
  • Maybe i was fond of her a little more from that day. 
  • or maybe i know the transitory nature of help giving because old age is not trust worthy.

I just left her there and failed to mention this to anybody after that. And i chose to carry on, but i sometimes ponder over the fact that i did not know her name, she doesn’t know mine. We’re neighbors and that’s the only way i can describe our equation. But this nameless bond was enough to make me feel her absence in her verandah in the evening. Also, she must be having no idea i wrote this about her. 

i had questions in my mind until today i developed courage, parked my scooty outside my house post tuitions and right before calling i asked about this man, and the question was answered, the problem was solved, this man, the man i called twice a week for this woman who was anxiously waiting for me to use her phone only to call him. And the answer was pretty much expected, she told me that it was her son. I had prejudiced it all, between the second and first question i asked from her, those 10 seconds of halt between each question of that questionnaire i had judged this man so much so that i had almost rated him the cruelest son who left his mother at that age. But my second question was about his address, to which i got to know he lived in the next lane, 50 steps away and my judgment skills sharpened, at the age of 17 i had no rights to define this mother-son relationship but i was doing it on a level of mastering it almost. And then i finally enquired about why dont you two live together? Even before expecting the answer i had assumed that he might be having a wife and further assumptions about her that i made are pretty much predictable, to my last question she answered that they did not share blood, he was her sworn her and she called him twice a week because he loved him like his mother but she did not want to overburden him by residing with him so she chose to live separately. And how they shared this bond for more than years then and how much they’ve helped each other survive in a world where they had no families. 

I flushed all my assumptions and developed a thick layer of respect for this man who was a means of survival for this woman who was trying to live a life where she magnifies love out of little things. And i as a neighbor now choose to be the same stereotypical helper who is a mediator to this lady, I, for this lady carry hope in fingers because i dial her the way to her survival and I fear being unavailable to her for dialing this number for the rest of our lives. 

 

You have taken my fire? 

Have you given so much of yourself to people, that you felt as if you’re almost emptied and now you won’t be the same person again because it’s not from your physical appearance that you’re impaired, but someone has taken a little bit of the ember within your soul and now there will be no more wildfires because you’ve given so much that your soul is too tired to light up another time, for another soul, who’d only take the magic away and never return? 

This is a letter to the people who believed in my choked words and hesitant typing at 2AM, when the world is not stirring, but our souls are. 

I know when i end this and you read this you can have notions for me in your mind, but i hope you know you’re loved because you  believe in me, and you know THAT daylight makeup is nowhere beautiful infront of uncontoured vulnerabilities. 

I know people have fear and people are scared about putting off the fibre on their souls that covers their soul’s private parts. 

I know it is not easy but since you believed in my uncovered self of thoughts, notions and beliefs which are mute in daylight, i am thankful for your existence. 

I know it is not easy to tell someone why you believe in pen more than the sword, and to prove it in the middle of the night, i know it needs gust to tell someone why new people scare you, not because they’re monsters but you do not confide in them. I know you’re in your end of teenage years but your soul is old and that heart of gold that speaks magic when the world is asleep and make up is off and scars are visible, you’re beautiful then, i am beautiful then. And that beauty fades like the moonshine does. That beauty the world doesn’t see, the world clearly doesn’t deserve to see how few souls are connected that they know the spark, the vibe which no one in the world would be able to create. 

I am not exaggerating, because this middle of the night flight to the world of beauty of undressed souls, is something not everyone goes through, because the world is snoring and you’re letting your fear and insecurities ooze like blood does from an open wound and then all the pain slowly vanishes. 

I also know it is not easy to let another person enter into the space whose invite you do not owe to anyone. 

But since you let me in because the watchman aint aware, i am thankful. 

But then with sunshine we brush ourselves up, hide our flaws and deny the very words we were proud of last night, that’s how it goes?  Bizarre, it is? 

It is said you cannot love the same person in different degrees, but those degrees are high and chances are fair that in night i can be the other half but in the morning i am an unfaithful lover because we cover with garbs of false perfections and i cannot love you with these layers. Layers of stubborn, layers of strong, layers of massive contradiction with the previous night’s talk.  

The purpose of this letter is not to make you feel how connected we are, this can be named as an apology for the unacceptable nature of the day time that is ashamed to tell you that i need you. 

So 10 years down the line when your night life is about someone else, I’d be glad i was a part of it in the years when you had hopes of becoming what you are then, because i didn’t see you merely as a diamond, i saw you taking shape under heat, with a lot of strength, i saw you black, i saw you before the lustre you have then and i loved you still. 

I am thankful for the nights that have turned me into  who i am today, because these talks have made me believe that even if for certain hours during the night, just for those, my vulnerabilities have ears and are respected for these are cheeky and unreasonable under sun and for other people. 

That’s all, and i also have this letter to allow you to fetch better 2 Am people because make your soul’s turbulence and fascination might not be able to confine in mine at times and it’s okay if you find someone else because i have a piece of your soul now and that’s probably enough for mine to confine. 

What your soul is trying to tell you? 

Sometimes you’re too weak to face what your soul is trying to tell you. 

Maybe because you know it already and are scared to get that confirmation. 

Maybe you’re in complete oblivion. 

And when you’re scared, you’re mostly scared because you fear change, you fear losing as if other times you’ve always won. 

You fear distance as if everyone else was next to you. 

You fear the end of it as if you were here for a forever.

But this overcome is a victory won,  you should be doing it, because if your soul tries to tell you something, there is a reason underneath. 

It can be about leaving and beginning, beginning something you were scared to, leaving something you cannot imagine a future without. 

Too often beginnings are adventurous and endings are signals. 

We need to end to start new. 

We need to start to reach an end. 

People : weakness and strength. 

Let us just take an instance of life- for today i pick up people, since people are everything that our lives revolve around it is easy to create a conversation on them. But the insecurity i want to hammer my powers today is that why people make us weak?
Bizarre it sounds because what makes us weak is purely their absence, you’re all sturdy when they’re around, you’re complete. It is tragic we feel complete with someone around but it is what it is, we, often fail to become whole and search for pieces as if our life was a jigsaw puzzle. At times we create our imaginary ‘happy worlds’ in which those people are around and gather so many things to say when we finally see them. Those ‘happy worlds’ only exist in our mind because we, in our minds are trying to give voice to our mute vulnerabilities. Because we know these people will respect our ‘happy world’ and adorn our pain as if they were trophies of our soul.

But what i have seen is, we fail, our mouths fail to speak things what our hearts want to blurt out loud? 

Vulnerabilities still stay a dumb man who couldn’t speak even after being operated upon , our heart stays a place with all the mute insecurities locked in, and our mind still has this imaginary ‘happy world’ which couldn’t set up another dimension because we’re too scared to speak what we feel. 

My talk is not opposite gender restricted, my talk is not about introversion, it is about each one of us trying to hide our insecurities to ‘pretend’ to be strong! 

why? 

Because people will laugh our insecurities off? 

Strength doesn’t lie in holding back what your soul needs to let out, 

This ‘strength’ in hiding what you feel is hiding under the garb of societal values. 

You need the strength to be vulnerable, not infront of ‘THE’ world but infront of ‘YOUR’ world that lies in the soul you find yourself threaded with. 

Because unveiling your raw emotional self is scarier than stripping physically. Mastering the art of right choice to unveil before or mastering the art of controlling till the right time before emotionally ripping apart is difficult, but we learn, we learn with the right people. Right people feel safe, and that’s when we know we can fall apart and it won’t harm, we can strip, emotionally and this person won’t molest. That’s when your soul is free and hearts know no boundaries, you just speak and talk and grow. This is the purest form of connection.

To women who store wildfire in them. 

It’s ecstatic howyears from now you’d be on your own, 

earning, successful 

and most importantly confident. 

You’d know your worth is more than

merely roaming for groceries. 

At 25, you will earn for your parents and you won’t be looking for

grooms online. 

You’d prioritise things like meetings and deals and not if has to be a red saree or a blue suit to your husband’s promotion. 

It’s time to realize that we don’t expect a man to have a house or car by 28,

what you need to understand is 

we’re above the ”good looks-better groom” or ”more bucks- better in laws” theory. 
Not every women dreams to be an obedient housewife or have a lavish indian wedding, this, i want all to know the males, females and the country That some women dream of being successful 

build up an empire, ride their Own audis and that’s how they want it, 

they want to get to a stage where their parents won’t have to work, they would do anything to let them hold their heads high with no more need to work from 9 to 5,

the ones who hold these aspirations are my favorites but not everyone dreams the same and its completely acceptable. 

But the ones who do, here’s a salute to your soul that stores wildfire, wildfire for keeping such positivity in a country like ours,  the mere thought is commendable. 

Your life is about much more, 

much more than a beautiful bio data for marriage. 

You’re everything that is enough to build beautiful castles, and at your Own call, you’re also everything enough to burn some castles down. 

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