Lights of Fantasy

                            Lights of Fantasy                              

         Your hair was so perfect. It tangled as I kept tossing them. The smile on your face showed onto me. You supposedly did not like people touching your hair. I threw them backwards and went south. I touched your fore head and wept all those tiny droplets of sweat from them. You put your hand on mine and pulled it out to your cheeks. You were trembling as I kept playing with your face. You were serious, but yet you were probing for more love. I could hear you swallowing your saliva as you looked at me with your eyes hiding so many tremendous things you could do. The eyes of yours showed things you could do to me. The things I am craving for. You placed your hands on my waist as you pushed yourself closer to me. You were asking me to start first with your eyes on mine. 

“You never spoke, but yet, you told something!” 

             I pushed my bosom nearer to yours and kissed you on your neck. You feathered upon my neck and lifted me and couched myself on you. The bed pounded as you landed on it. I laughed at you. The awkward smiles existed forever. I was on you when your heart was on mine. You lied on the bed and looked at me when I was upon you. You were shivering as I hauled your shirt off. My index revolved around your navel. You were tensed than ever. Your Adam’s apple couldn’t be stable. We were laying on the king size bed and we looked at each other as you put your lips on my cheek first. I turned and put my lips on yours. Our lips pursued one another and were fixed as you gave a smile from your heart. I could no longer find anything wrong in my life. Your chest bore me as you removed my tank top. The movement of your stomach could be sensed. I made love with you all for once. I put my shirt on and stepped out of your bed room and I turned back to see you place your hands on the stomach of yours and laugh for yourself. I paced as soon as I could and kissed you on your lips as we made a tight lock.
 And it was never broken.

You.

                                         You.

        

        Your message never hit mine. Maybe you never sent it. Your list doesn’t have my name now. 
    The people who led me to you are now trying to drift me apart from you. The same conversations seem so boring nowadays.

    The lawn is filled with my isolation. The lights are burning on me now. I know I have become dependent.

 I knew you held another girl the same way you are holding me now. But, you never told me you had cheated her. You never told me that she would be crying for your attention too. 

   The happy days are re-wrapping. The smile is heated. The place is yawning. You have removed your mask again.

 I know it is going to be someone else now. The heat’s making me warm now. Your eyes remind me, to just get lost somewhere you don’t want to know. 

Somewhere, deep into the rainbows. 

Maybe I would make the rainbows colorless. 

You were those black clouds which made the moon shine in the darkness of our lives. The moon was hidden in you. The moon glittered through the leaves from the tree you planted. The moon shone bright as the leaves fell down without any water. The tree shuddered and died into the fields. Whatever you touched had tears now.

        I wanted to be your Earth, not your Pluto. I wanted you to hold me, not leave me. I wanted you to tell me not to cry, not to make me cry.

        Only I loved you, you didn’t. Only I kissed you, you didn’t. Only I cared, you didn’t. Only I cried for you, you didn’t.

But, Only you lied, I didn’t.

                            

Truth.

                                                     HOPE.

        

        The music was playing on its beat. The twisted bones of the greatest dancer were moving themselves as he continued dancing. The air-conditioned room reeked with his sweat. The globules of his sweat hit the floor randomly. His shoes screeched as the sweat went under it. His lips moved as the beat went. His facial expression changed by every second. He put his hand on his face and down fell his sweat. The dance studio was filled with music. The guy hoarded all of his talent and opened the curtains for it. The clock hit dawn late. He never got tired. He switched the light off and put himself down for cooling his overheated body down. His body was all out as the mirror was itself going to sweat soon. He got up and welled up was all of his muscles. He put the keys around his bag and flew off there.

     He went down and opened his simple and empty wallet. There were only a few 10 rupee notes. He grabbed few of them out and left the old woman in the street with them. She just blessed him. And there he was smiling, despite the bare wallet, despite the competition. And, despite the failures.

      He had no watch to check the time. The road still plugged  some people. He caught a share auto and had to sit in the edge of it as people kept getting in.

But, he never gave up.

The following days, he continued doing the same.

But one unfortunate day, he finished his practice and was about to get into the same clumsy share auto when,

He came to know that he had died. His whole role model in his life had gasped for breath and at last gave up. The bag he had in his hand fell with a thud as he heard it from his sister. The whole black sky was disapproving him. His dad was going to be inside a coffin now. He got onto the vehicle and was not responding to any of their questions. His sister was dropping her tears on the other side. He was not ready to face it. He was contented dancing the whole day, just dancing. The typical memories of his dad from his childhood flashed in his mind. The man he never talked to, the man he never cherished, the man he never wanted to spend time with, was lying emotionless. He wanted to do everything now. He wanted to whisper into those wrinkled ears of that old man that he had changed his life.

He entered his house silently. The whole house was in utter silence. The ravelled mind of his was all blank now. The corpse was making people realize their real inner meanings. His dance moves had no life now.

He circled 3 times around his dad, his dad covered in planks of wood. He never cried. He never frowned. He never mourned. All he did was, realize. The bitter guilty feeling inside that life now was ebbing himself away slowly. The smile totally faded away. The legs had no life now. The music was all alone.

He was a dog left alone in a busy road. He was a dog beaten up and thrown to the passage. He was not there anymore. He never spoke then. The old woman’s blessings were not worth he thought. But, he never regretted giving her money.

The next day, he stayed in his room. He was supposed to be in the studio. People never searched for him, there. His smiling nature never made people probe for him. They came as they used to and they went as they used to. He was hysterical. The rituals were taking place but he never thought of anything else, but about the realization. The time he failed in math and his dad reported to the principal reflected in front of his eyes. He remembered his dad being silent all the while to his home, that day. He thought and thought and thought. Dad.

He entered the air-conditioned room again. The rose he planted had bloomed. The day had no coffee for him in it but he went on. He came back from being a wallflower to being a flower. The smile flourished slowly and steadily. He threw in his bag the tears he had bought and energised himself with “him.” The music started and he was nowhere in the frame. The tears, now, flowed out. The drops of sweat were the drops of tears now. He started. The legs slowly untangled themselves. The muscles slowly turned into hope from being a massacre. He wanted. And he did. Again, fell the tears and sweat. And, by the time he left the studio, there was only sweat on his face.

The old woman had hope for him again. The old woman had another 10 rupees now but he did not want blessings. He wanted life.

And the bigger and bigger studios, he had enchanted. His dad was still there. He was lost. Meaningless.

Sympathetic Magic

                                       Sympathetic Magic 

      

     She was playing with him. He carried his sister on his legs. He chortled every time as he winded her to and fro through the cold air. The littlest angel in the heaven was giggling as her weightless body was all up, on the balance of his knee. She dropped herself and fell on his stomach laughing with her randomly sized teeth. He tickled her. The laugh of the bean echoed. Her baby teeth let her giggle be as important as to be recorded in a box full of hearts. The next day, they grew up.

     They fought over a remote. She hit that growing body. He hit her back. She whimpered and let him get an earful from their parents for the mistake he had not done. He boiled and never talked to her. Her little hands touched his and she asked for forgiveness and looked into his eyes. He threatened her that his fist would soon be on that face of hers. The little creature of his complained that he was not talking. She went over to him again and kept calling him until he couldn’t control his laughter. The girl chuckled and it was like rain to the driest of the driest lands. The next day, they grew up.

     He was running through the corridors to escape from her. The mini form of troublesome was chasing him. She caught him and held him by his collar. He lifted her and pushed her away as he started to bolt towards the sofa. The girl shouted at him and chased him again. The couch let some distance apart them which was soon covered. She seized his shirt and soon created haste by rolling on the floor with him and then she called out, “Game over!”  The next day, they grew up.

     He studied. The boy was no longer playing with her. The little girl was no longer the same naughty little dangerous creature. He had a flask of tea stored for him every time he studied late night. His books were in his captivity now. He stopped talking to everyone near him. He studied and only studied. His marks arrived. The house glistened with joy. The next day, they grew up.

     The music played, to his ears. The earphones were ruling him. The light of the phone reflected on his face. That light was disguising itself as the light he himself had. The light she could give him. Those eyes were busy enough not to love her.

     Those hands were not there to hold her anymore. His back was not there to carry her anymore. The corridors were not filled with their cries anymore. The couch could not see them play anymore. The cold air could not hear their hilarity anymore. They could not see any half broken remotes anymore. Their lives couldn’t see themselves anymore.

They did not know what the destiny has in store for them anymore now.

…

They were not “them” anymore.

And so, they grew up.

   

   

Strings of music

                               

                      Strings of Music.           
          
          He read. He read as he turned to look at her. She was not there anymore. She left. He searched for that absent angel there. He looked at the clock. The time he wanted to know had drifted away as he had been dreaming to climb the mountains. He shouted her name. The girl never showed up. He looked at the grey walls filled up with blues. He saw her coming from the colour-less wall. Her wings were not tied anymore. Her hand was on his cheeks. He fluttered with the angel as her wings carved his hands. The feather from another feather looked at him, as he shouted her name that echoed through the dusty walls. She was the queen in the empire of just subjects. There was no king. Her hand was not filled with scars anymore. Her wings bristled through his cheeks. Her face was not tearful anymore. She looked at him through her flawless eyes. He gazed at her beauty. The same beauty he couldn’t put a name for before. He had no tides in him. He was silent. His whole body was stringent. He was like a sea without any tides. He was no longer arresting people with his charming twinkle. Instead, he abducted people with his tears now. He tore the pages of the book. The book was torn into a hundred pieces. He threw it on the wall. The opus of his toil was shred into pieces. They were up in the air.

          Blood oozed out from his tender body. She was not there. The angel with wings had let him become a corpse. The wooden floor was teeming with his fluid. The ground was clubbing with despondency.

           There were barricades around him. They took him outside into the wild world. They drew his outline on the floor with a chalk. He was never white like the chalk. He was always black. They hoarded his hand work. In it, he had written,

“I ran. And I just continued running. Until, I saw her. Then, I forgot that I had to run. Later, she ran leaving me lone in this lousy world. Then, I ran too. But, just into the beats of the heaven.”

The faded flower

                         The Faded Flower
          
          She was resting on those worn-out walls, her stooped  back touching the wall. Her old wrinkled profile was showing that innocent face of her's. She was swinging her legs and looking at the shadow of her's. She was expression-less. The old lady moved to her side and sprawled on her bed which was cranky with all her clothes. Her old ragged Sari was going to rip apart in a few more days. She lied on the bed but never did she close her eyes. She just lied there. She was lonely. Her eyes told that as she came up with tears. She was lying on the wooden bench and was looking up at the 4 wall room. Her color-less hair was all out. All that was new in her was only those salty drops of tears that were out. She melted like wax from a candle which did not need her anymore. Her mouth was open. She lied there, not moving a bit. She kept quiet. Her hand had nothing which belonged to her. It was very long before she was into paradise. She was a showcase of peacefulness. Her profile was all down as she got up and went to her rusted iron cupboard. She drew open her cupboard which had nothing but a set of the same kind of old saris and a small bag. She ploddingly bore the bag and took a photo from it. She went back steadily to her bed and her petite framework clasped the bed sheets around as she sat down on the bed. She groaned, as her muscles overtook her. Her sunrise which had dawned a few years ago had clouds filled with rain now. And her tears ran through, spilling the rain out. She perched on the bed, like a bird on a tree. The tree had all of it's leaves shredded. Her leaves shredded on the ground of life. She was solus. Her figure collapsing as she welled up with tears. She lay on the couch. And lay there. And she never got up. Never did her body come up again, as it did before. Never did she charmingly smile, as she did before. Never she lived, as she lived before. 
They asked him who he was.
He replied,
"Her son."
He returned with his photo and the burnt ashes of her.
And She Never Lived.

Blues.

                                  Blues

               "I love you" he said, making me blush again. I smiled and couched myself on him. His hand was on my cheeks, and his lips on mine. The road was very peaceful, maybe for us. It was only a band of light that was visible to my eyes. His beautifully shaped eyes' mirror returned me back. Two souls were becoming one. 
"Whom do you love?" he asked me.
The lime lights were thrown on me. I drew him nigh, and kissed him. I turned and got my sweater hitting my back as I moved away from him, and secretly hitting a smile. He held me by my hand and pulled me onto him. 
"Hmm?" He asked again, making it really awkward.
"Maybe you!" I replied, smirking at his absurdity.
He held me by my waist, then. And silently said,
"Maybe?"
I put my sweater on him, on his face which was demanding an answer. He stood there, like an idiot wearing a sweater on his face. 
I said,
"Only you.." and left. 
               You were like the sunrise in my life. In my life which was, very gloomy. But I never expected, that it was going to be named,
Blues.

Lost.

                             Lost.                    
                 
               It's 12'o clock in the morning. I am, waiting, still waiting, for your reply. My brain knows, that you are done with me. But, my heart, doesn't. It is still having hearts under it's cover waiting, since forever. My brain tells me not to talk to you. My brain knows, that you are an actor. My heart doesn't. I was not great. There were other girls too. You came. I twinkled like a star in the middle of darkness. You left me now. I turned out. The lights went out. My heart went out. You went out. 
               You are a Tiger. You want only fresh preys. Let me not be your deer. Let me be your Tigress. Together, we could stand, drunken in the love of ours. 
               My heart is shaking with wild winds of all of your old love. The only Umbrella I had was you. You flew off too, into the lush. My heart is screaming now, trying to let go of you. 
               You are not mine, anymore. I don't show up in any of you now. You don't know, that I miss you. You don't know that, I will never stop missing you.  You don't know, that, I am crying. You don't know, that, I truly loved you. I close my eyes. I wish it never opens again.

Souvenirs

                             Souvenirs       

                     
                  I guessed, (sorry, I was sure) that you were not like others. Not like others, who were thrown out of my life. I was sure that you were different, and I was so damn sure that you would pleasure me. I was convinced that every touch of your hands were not like others. I was positive about those little intimate talks we had. I was secure in your arms which held me taut, and laughing. All those times, you used to tattle to me about all those girls you supposedly did not care about, flashes in front of me every second I look at you. Every time I look at your face, which conveys no sort of that feeling. I still have in mind, those evenings, we spent together, my hands covered in yours, my head on your shoulder. All those times you used to hear to all of my brooding, I believed you. But I forgot, that believe itself had the word lie in it. I was happy while I was with you. And whenever, you used to listen to my hyper talks, and embrace me. I, unfortunately remember everything. I still recall those times, when you used to cuddle with me on your squishy bed. I loved you with all my heart, as you put your wet lips on mine. And your hands on my face, caressing it. And all those endless hours you spent with me, carrying me under your arms as I wept about things. And I know, I shouldn't recall this, but, I was induced that you actually seriously loved me, whenever you took my hands and once again, recited on how much you loved me. I was fooled. I believed you and I never imagined that you would leave me like this, wandering in search for a home of my own. You ran away now, leaving me with nothing but tears. You left me now, and my hands which once, you never were going to let go off. Myself, which, once upon a time, you relished. My body, which, long time ago, you treated with hugs and kisses. Every part of me is longing for you, your scent. 
               It is past now. It was a present, then, when I was not hysterical.

Illusory gaeity.

                          Illusory gaiety..  
               
                I stood there. The echo of my body hitting the reflections on the dusty mirror. I watched myself for a while. The image's profile was happy. Really happy and contented. I saw my well brought up body without any gashes. My Caucasian skin glowing, seeking some unfortunates. I was known for it. I glanced at the speaker. Gawked I was, at the ability of the girl to hide everything inside that hue less coarse.
             The brows of my profile often carrying itself up and down as I try all sorts of absurdity. The girl, the same girl, was contented at the striking of the thought, that she was actually happy.. The girl on the other side of the reflector, was beaming as if she had won everyone' hearts, after all, which was of no use. She was twinkling, with her robe which suited her perfectly. Her short hair, and the whole profile, which could win amazing complements.
I was there, looking at her glowing like, she had swept the board. Her face lighted like a kerosene lamp inside the dark and wild woods.
I said, smiling, to match her,
“This is not going to last!” as I walked out, from the looking glass, my face earnest. My profile, earnest, not to be a cat's paw, again.
           

Fragile Wings

                          Fragile Wings.                       

          I saw her. She was sitting on those most dirty staircases, her equally beautifully decorated "Lehenga" getting spoiled. Her prepossessing dyed hair was hiding all of her face. She was looking down, concealing her 'always smiling' profile. But still, I realized, it was her. She didn't know I was there, secretly admiring her beauty. She was alluring, then too. 

          The same girl who used to run beaming with joy, was there, bawling her eyes out. I was so caught up with her allurement, I did not care about all those droplets of tears hitting the floor. I had never felt so different about her. Maybe it was because of the overload of beauty. I started losing vision on all those admirable amenities. Her soul, inevitably, fighting all the lust, she had always been happy. Her flawlessly shaped hands, always clad with rings and bangles were placed on her mouth making her look like a mummer trying to cry. She looked soulless. Soulless like a corpse inside a coffin. I walked up to her, like an on-looker seeing her for the first time. 

         I moved towards her. I wasn't able to. I felt something thrusting in. The stretchable distance seemed as if we were millions of miles apart. Our eyes meeting each other's, I straightened my hand to her, just to get hit by nothing else but an invisible glass. I tried breaking it. Every now and then, I glanced at her. She looked at me too, her eyes filled with all kinds of emotions. Rage, empathy, love, betrayal. And everything. But she never smiled. She never spoke. She kept quiet. The disguised angel never took her eyes off me. She gazed at me, as I was trying to break the obstacle. I looked at her, my eyes tearing up, as I was carrying my hands over the unseeable glass, as if I was playing with air. She was watching me, patiently, as her emotionless eyes flooded with tears. As beads of tears kept falling from her angelic eyes, I kept trying harder and harder. It became tougher and tougher.
          At last I had put a crack on it. I could feel mucho happiness running through me, rapidly, hunting for it's own space. It was simply, seventh heaven. I probed for her, just to not find her. The soul had gone up in the air, uncontrollably being controlled, the girl tore up into pieces, just because of those people who stabbed her with words.

          I never sighted her, then. She wasn't there. Like an angel, she had come. Like an angel, she had gone. Gone. Those marks of her presence were still present, on those staircases. Not only on them. But, on me too.
Then, I realized,
It was me..
Just me,
"A play.."
                                                                                    

Squander Squad.

                         Squander Squad.

          With my mom, over here, right beside me, earning the title "best counsellor" through that cuboidal shaped box (phone) whose main job is to "put us down" in our lives, I realized,

          "Aren’t we all getting used up because of things which are actually not to be bothered about?"

Legit.

          My mom, herself has zillions of problems to manage. In spite, she sits there spending most of her time telling people to live their life to the fullest.

So, there comes the actual query,

"Are we, intellectual yet stupid humans, living our life as we want it to be lived?"

Or,

"Are we, even living our life or precisely draining away time just because we have been given a lot of it?"

The answer differs from person to person.

Maybe, even I don't live my life.

My Instagram stories are always filled with grievances as others' lives are.

Thank god! Only my Instagram stories are.

Honestly speaking,

Yes.

Even I don't live my life,

Even I am just fooling around in this spherically shaped room named "Earth."

Not solely, but with Seven Billion (7,000,000,000) people.

But the difference is, I am totally aware that my life's battery is coming down.

I perceived a lot of things, now, because of my mom's advice to that pitiful person on the other side who's eyes might actually be dwelling with tears now.

Only when I sit and hear all of this mess,

I remember the time,

          When, I saw an old lady on the road, covering her bleeding leg with a plastic sheet, wearing a plastic cover as her protection, trying to walk as fast as possible through the road as the droplets of rain from heaven was falling on her old wrinkly face, with marks all over her body, with those plastic sheets often trying to fall apart.                 She was still looking assertive. She couldn't walk, but she tried all her level best, with her swollen legs. She reached the other side of the road, to a vegetable shop. I was totally occupied watching her every single step, as she finished her task, a very small task which has to be repeated over and over again, in a single day. I don't know, or maybe I don't want to know, if she was happy when she finished moving from one side of the road to the other, but her eyes told that she was not happy. Her small little bead of tear from her left eye, told, that she was not happy. 

           Her toil did not come to an end over there, she had to fight the place to even stand over there, with her hunched body, people over there battling for space. With, rain getting heavier and heavier, she stood there, as patient and bold one could ever be in that situation. With water pouring down from the plastic sheet above the vegetable shop because of the accumulation of the rain on it, she tried moving in that cramped up place, and failed, again and again. But, she never stopped trying, 'Never.' 

           She kept trying, kept failing, and the last time, heaven blessed her, by stopping the rain and the crowd beginning to move apart. She would have felt relieved, probably. And in another, two minutes, she silently trotted from there continuing her rash journey.

It is really easy for me, to describe things, to describe her courage.

But for her....?

          Our problems are just crap in front of those people whose whole life is on stake.

Only when we try conceiving this, we mature.

          "We" might be the only kind of people who turn the simplest of the simplest things into the most perplexing ones ever.
  

                                                              ***

                                                    

Hardened souls...

                ME, MYSELF AND I. (Not the song)

          

           And, please. I am happy myself. You don't have to enter my life in the name of "boosting me up" and as usual, mess it up and disappear. 

     I just accomplished the task of figuring out that "angels" do exist. Sadly, I am not conveying that you are so divine, but you have the ability to disappear immediately just like angels do. And thanks to you for making me a successful person at least in that happy realization.

         Because you, yourself are one, my love.

         Resting my crestfallen mind on that glossy floor of mine, wearing what my parents refer to as "hearing aid" (Earphones), listening to "In the name of Love" corrected me on my thoughts.

          I had actually grown up. Not only physically, but mentally too. Now, I could imagine people throwing tantrums at their very sight of my line saying that I grew up mentally. And you know what? No one cares for your opinion on this because you and your thoughts are just a piece of "CHICKEN-SHIT" dude.

        Now, I might have probably got people dwelling upon the relation I had evaluated between the beginning and the above lines.

        Here's the delineation.

         Chiefly, I segregate people into three factions. And for all those “Divergent” fans out there, regrettably, NO, it’s neither Dauntless nor Erudite. And, basically, “I” consider the Candor as the dejected ones although they are the honest people and the Abnegation as “WHATEVERRR!!”

        Promptly, let us move on to the actual topic. YES! Three groups.

1.            The “FOUNTAIN HEADS OF HAPPINESS.”

2.            “DEPRESSING ONES”

 And,

3.            The “BELONGS TO BOTH THE ABOVE.”

 Furthermore, this whole article is mainly dedicated to all those extra-ordinary humans who possibly impersonate themselves as “SIA” in “TITANIUM” changing from that humane faces of theirs, which makes us fall for them again and again to that graceless face of theirs which had actually been under covers all these days. Duh! Simply, the 3^rd category.

          Being in a world surrounded by swains like this taught me one thing:

          People are getting it easier to measure their intelligence just by being aware of how to manage imbeciles like this and I supposedly, have learned that knack and undoubtedly I have grown up.

Wait, now, should I roll upon the floor realizing that I am turning big (in both ways) or should I be really contented that I finished writing my most ironic article?

                               ***

        Inspired by: Lilly Singh, also known as, IISuperwomanII's video:

               "How to make a sandwich"

               https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YeEe8QasV5s

Social Media and you: Life

                   TANGLED COMPLICATION

         

          Being modest on my part, hasn't Social Media in any form abducted your normal form of living? Rather it would be better if I use "our" instead of "your". We are truly abusing some of the best gifts we have been given with. First of all, do we really know the use of “SOCIAL NETWORKS”?

          It’s going to be pretty difficult if I use "Social network" each and every time. A perfect synonym would be "Facebook", "Instagram", "Twitter", etc. I know that in some phase of our lives, we may find these helpful. But waiting for that opportunity, we can't afford to lose everything else right? Abundance of anything causes trouble. Same here! Abundance of this Facebook can also cause troubles. I have seen people suffering with that disease of dying to get likes on Facebook. Most of the people, here termed, are teenagers. The part where we should be laughing so much is when we realize that our normal people are turning into super humans by using internet for HOROSCOPE! Pathetic! I can't do anything to change them but write. Even I use all of these social networks mentioned here, but it will always be right on our part if we build some limits for it. An average person spends about 1 hour and 50 minutes on social media per day. Now, I did not tell that. Google did. We fellow humans believe Google right? Because, we don’t trust people, we trust Internet better.

          Now mourning upon how obsessed we are with these “Social Networks” is not going to be of any use. Let us move on. Had it not been for Social Media, we couldn’t have improved tremendously in our lives and in technology. I completely agree with that. But all I am trying to convey is that there should be nothing called “addiction” towards it. All of these “Social Networks” play the role of a coin. It depends on us to seize the side we want out of it. CHOOSE WISELY!                 

                                                                             

                                                          

                      

Immortal discrimination.

Abandoned “ME”

              I induce thyself every time I bring into fruition that “I am being used by all those HOMO- SAPIENS surrounding me”. They speak rubbish about me. Next minute, they turn into world's best persuaders. Yet again, I believe them.
              I look into the mirror, they decide for themselves that I am busy cherishing my allurement. And so, they blurt out words. I try looking at them into the eyes just to say
“YES. I AM! DOES IT BOTHER YOU?”
Before I compose myself to begin speaking, they start laughing about something I don’t find amusing in any way.
              I look at them trying to understand the rationale for their laughter and then I come to know, it was ME who they were mocking at. Just a piece of MOCKERY I am.
To all those people,
YOU ARE IN NO WAY RELATED TO ME AND EVEN IF YOU ARE,
I DON’T CARE ABOUT IT.
I CAN AFFORD TO LOSE YOU WHEN YOU DON’T VALUE MY PRESENCE.

                                                                                                                           -YO GAL
                                                                                                                             Srividhya 

Unleash your feral savage..

    IT'S WATER UNDER THE BRIDGE.

                 
             
 I see her every day. She sees me too. I waved my hand. She waved back too. I approached towards her. She approached towards me too. I was quiet. She wasn't. She started speaking something. I could not hear her. But, she was saying something to me. I didn't know how to react. I grinned. She didn't grin back. I became grim. I asked her what it was. She nodded her head slowly launching a slight smile.
"What is it?" I asked.
Many a times.
 But she responded with one of those beautiful smiles I have ever seen.
It got onto my nerves.
"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT?"I literally screamed my voice out.
               She was about to open her mouth. But before that, she paced towards me and composed herself before beginning to speak.
"You asked me what I wanted. You could have asked your worries the same way. Shout at them. Scream at them. Scream at them till they become smaller than you. You would not have been caught up under this mess. You  didn't raise your voice because you felt they would feel bad. But,
FIGHT FOR HAPPINESS. FIGHT FOR IT UNTIL YOU GET IT. JUST BECAUSE YOU SMILE, WHEN WITH OTHERS, DOESN'T MEAN YOU ARE HAPPY. DON'T EVEN THINK OF GIVING UP. FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT FOR IT EVEN WHEN YOU ARE NOT ABLE TO. SHOW THEM THAT EVEN YOU CAN."
For a second, I admired her beauty.
Then, I asked her,...
"WHO ARE YOU?"
She smiled and said...
"THE INNER YOU."
                                                                                                                        - S. Srividhya

WHEN THERE IS NO ENEMY WITHIN, THE ENEMIES OUTSIDE CANNOT HURT YOU...
                                  - Unknown
                                                                           ***