There are somethings you can’t explain

Like the love you’re already into

Never truly knowing, when it began

Knowing for certain you can always go to

I don’t know when it began

It’s been so very long

Don’t how or what or why

I just have a happy sigh

All that I have now is the warmth

The afterglow

Sometimes, little flames erupt

However true happiness lies,

In knowing that the embers are everlasting

Today, when I was almost through

Came right down to the end of the interaction

I put that last chocolatey cone of ice cream in

And remembered again

Not just the warmth,

Of love everlasting

But that happy gooey sappy smiley feeling

Of love alive

That old neighbour

She danced, she sang, she loved and lived life
She probably still does, I wouldn't know
She was my neighbour
Not anymore
She was my friend
Not anymore

Her first kiss
I was the first one who knew
My first boy - friendship
She was the first one who knew
We read books together
We read out poems to each other
We drew together
We spent countless hours giggling
Like little girls do
At random things that made no sense to the outside world

She did have other friends
I had other friends

Be we had something special.
We were neighbors as well
Easiest to access

We got each other through the most difficult year of our lives
We have seen each other as we had all our pieces shattered

That shattered what we had
I think we started to remind each other of the sadness
Maybe we didn't want to remember that
Maybe we didn't know how to face each other after that
Maybe we just needed fresh starts

With that crescendo,
Eight years of close friendship disappeared
Like the whisp of smoke from a candle who's flame has been snuffed out

Now we follow each other on social media
I occasionally think about her
Or the fun we used to have
Send an extremely occasional text

Sometimes I wonder about who she is now
I wonder if she does too

My Love affair with notebooks

I love food and I announce it often times, proud and loud.
However, that I love notebooks is a quieter thing that very few know
I am in a way ashamed of it even
Not ashamed that I love notebooks,
But that I don't love them right

I could be compared to a cruel man
Who collects gorgeous women
And keeps them locked away
Cruel, not because he doesn't love them
But because he collects them believing he would love them right at some point
And never feels any moment is special enough
For that amazing occasion

One souvenir I get myself
From almost every country I visit
Is a notebook, (or two, more like - just in case, you know?)

I have notebooks of all kinds
Tall ones, fat ones, tiny ones
Ruled...unruled
Locked, easy to open
In a box
Hard bound, spiral bound
Many pretty pretty ones

I keep them safe and neat
In my cupboard
Often finding an old one,
And spending a moment smiling at how beautiful it is
Promising it that one day, I will write something very special in it
But I become like a protective father then
Like no man is good enough
No occasion special enough to start them

I have used many notebooks
Bought them for specific purposes
And left them forgotten

So all these heartbreaking realizations later
Earlier this month,
I made a very difficult decision
I decided not to buy myself anymore notebooks
(Yes that's the sound of my heart cracking)
I followed it up with an even more difficult decision
That I would start using my notebooks
Before I get another new one
(Crushed to pieces, that's my heart)

I've even started clearing my table
Cleaning it, so only the special notebook can sit there proudly
I came to terms with not buying new notebooks for a long time

Last night,
My dad came home
he tossed a really pretty notebook right next to me
My hands itched to touch them
My eyes were analyzing them already
It however felt like a cruel joke
Like being taunted with that carrot you don't deserve
"Take it. I don't think I'll use it" He said
"Why thank you, I really appreciate it"
I let out the breath I hadn't realized I was holding in.
It all felt right again.

Birthday Series: 9 to go : Lighting the lamp, blowing the candle!

Today's guest post is a poem by the eclectic Varsha Dharan. 

Lighting the lamp, blowing the candle!

What would birthdays be without cakes, candles, cards, confetti and celebration? 

What would birthdays be without family, friends, fun and frolic?

What would it be? What would it be?

Is it celebrating life?  Blowing a candle to strike one off the board? 

Taking a step closer to a probable next birth?

What would it be?

Racing numbers to racing thoughts, racing all the way to the stop?

The timer ticks, the battery drains, the phoenix burns to rise up again!

What would it be?

Being the princess, finding my horse, defending the land I love a lot?

The youngest I will be, the oldest I’ve been, swimming the oceans I am intended to cross!

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust! Finding a purpose to this life I must!

-

Varsha Dharan is one of those few people who managed to grow up continuing to be the bundle of bouncing energy and joy that we've all been as kids. A HR specialist by profession - but far from defining who she is. A social worker, professional dancer, traveller, photographer and of course a poet as well.

She's famous for her double hashtag couplets. 

Her writing induces one to read twice, think thrice and ponder quite a bit. 

Writer's Block

What does a writer's block cause?

Is it having too little to write about? Or too much?

Is it because you found someone who cares about what you say - so you don't feel the need to write it anymore? Or is it because one decides (or realizes?) that no one cares anyway - so why bother writing?

Is it because there's too much bothering you? Or nothing at all?

Is it because there isn't time?
Or there isn't motivation to find it?

Is it because a pause became a period?

Or because a cause became a deterrent?

Is it here to stay?
Can I use this to nudge it away?

Do I want to write again?
I muse as I see a myriad of things already written.

By others.
Not me.

But why do I write?
I wonder
Then I remember

I am an anonymous blogger
With so few followers, one doesn't need a counter

Yet I don't write for them
Hell, I don't even write for me
I write for the words that need to be spilt
Or within me, they will wilt.
Words, phrases, sentences, poems
They flow out till they feel at home
Or just dance as they please
Finding meaning with ease

Yes, I need to write.
It's not a want.
It's not an option.
It's not even a choice.
It just is.
Fact.

So write I shall.

With or without
Through or throughout
This damned block.

In Case You Were Wondering

Would I feel sad if you picked her over me?
I would
Would I stop you from doing so?
Probably not
Would I regret it?
Definitely
Would you know that I did?
No
Did I turn back to see you, as I walked away alone?
I did. From where I knew you couldn't see me anymore
Did I wish you turned back too?
I know you did. I saw your shaddow. I was watching for it to come and stop me.
Did I feel elated when you did come after me?
That shock I expressed on my face? It wasn't fear, it was pleasant surprise.
Did I feel anything at all when I sent you away again?
It broke my heart
Why would I do it then?
Because it felt like the right thing to do.
Couldn't I just let go of all the 'why not possible's and give this a chance?
I try to, everytime time I bury my face inside your hug
How can I still walk away? Let you walk away?
Because I should let you go. And cause sadness always sinks in a little later for me.

Will it at least hurt me to let you go?
I guess so. If I know myself at all, it's gonna be terrible.

Will you ever know that I hurt (too)?
I hope not.

Did I love you at all?
I always wished I could tell you that.

When the flood gates opened

She held it in for so many days

She didn’t know she could at the beginning

Then she thought she would forever

But it wasn’t going to stay bottled in

The sobs that were caught in her throat

The tears that had been brutally blinked away

All waited to gush out

An almost friend who wouldn’t fight for her

The father who blamed her for what was obviously not her fault

The patriarchy

The friend who pointed out her flaws

(Maybe he always did, but hey! Terrible timing this)

Work pressure on and off

The fights that people decided to pick just then

The grandma who was disappointed

The weight that just wouldn’t decrease, darn it!

To do lists that didn’t seem to end

The bank balance, and the salary day so far off!

Maybe any of these by themselves

Even many at a time

Might have been battles win-able

But all at the same time

Steely forge ahead, she did

Even win many an argument along the way

Pretended she didn’t care about

What she shouldn’t be caring about

But take a toll on her, it did

So then it happened

She got up to shower

Just started walking from one room to another

Some last piece of hay from somewhere fell

The floodgates were opening, she could tell

She hurriedly closed the door behind her

Out came a tear, then another

A sob escaped to become a wail

What could she do

Apart from just let go.

Played music to drown the sound of weeping

Fall against the wall, and hope it would swallow her whole

Feeling the hot tears flowing out

The bawling hurting her throat

And yet,

To cry like one’s own heart mourning

To cry like a little piece of her was crushed

Lost, and alone

Wishing for a hug

No clue about how long the sniveling would continue

Even a bit clueless about how broken she was

Because she had used all her strength

In keeping it all together

Every little piece

Even as it cracked

And some shattered

She cried because she could hold on no longer

She cried because she’d hoped someone would help her

But they all had their own battles to face

Their own pieces to hold together

Their own sobs to suppress

So she let herself fall apart by herself

Not questioning if she could put it all back together again

Not caring, not right then

She cried so her heart would stop aching

And eyes stop burning

She cried and let it all out

Did everything become alright again?

Probably not

But who cared

Right then, even she didn’t have to

And that was just fine.

She was all cried out.

Those moments of weakness

Those moments ...
When you don't long for that person
But wish their presence next to you

When you frantically search through a hundred mails just to find that deleted number ...
To save it
Just so you can look at the latest display picture.
Reassure yourself that they're doing fine
Ask the universe to let them know that you're fine too
-Despite these moments-
If they ever wondered, that is.

Those moments
When you close your eyes
And you're caught between a smile and a tear
And a strong wave of nostalgia
Remembering that feeling

When you imagine the scenario of bumping into each other
Practice what you would say
How you would look
And react
Run it over in your head
Just so that, when that moment arrives
The moment you dread and anticipate
You're not stuck staring
Like a blubbering fool

Ah well

Those moments when you wish..

Just to, for a brief moment, remember how it used to feel
How life used to be
Who you used to be.

And Then She Overcame

She was all of nineteen

When her world had come crashing down on her

All of nineteen

Just a girl who was a teen

Her pillar, her support system

What felt like her everything –

The one who had given meaning to her life

Had to move on to a better place

Leaving here behind here

Not alone

But it felt so, so alone

To face everything on her own

To live life in a way she’d never known

She’d thought then that life would end

The world as she had known it, had after all done just that

She had thought that happiness would be a thing of the past

Nothing she loved would ever last

And she would always stay this way – Aghast

But no

She overcame

At first, her laughter was forced

They had sounded so fake in her head

She thought cynical was the best she could do

At first, she smiled for others

She smiled to show them that she would be fine

She smiled to stop the pity in their eyes

She smiled to prove that she could

When she realized that they cared

Her smiles became sadder

For she knew that they knew

They knew that she was trying too hard

She knew that they wanted her to move on

Because they wanted her to be alright

She knew that they were right

And that made her sad

Because a part of her believed

That letting go of the pain,

Would mean that she was letting go of the memories as well

That she would be letting go of who she was

The only who she had known to be

And she would have to accept

The SHE that she would be

It wasn’t easy

It didn’t happen fast

But eventually it did

She let herself smile

Not for others,

But for herself

And before she knew it,

There was laughter

A new her

She had overcome

The sadness

She had overcome

The pain

She had learnt to treasure her memories

To hold on to them dearly

And let them make her a better person

A stronger person

And stronger also because she had overcome

-

I wrote this motivated by the "Struggled but Overcame" series contest for CBC

Broken string

She held him tight

Looked deep into his eyes

And told him she loved him

He held on tighter

Blinked away the tears

And nodded

Wishing those words were true

Not knowing she meant it

She realized and let it be.

Those moments in between

Those small moments in between

Sleep and wakefulness

When dreams are more real

Than reality's mildness

Where the possibilities are endless

Where infinity is existent

And is slowly coming to an end

Logically, mathematically - this makes no sense

But every he and she who remembers

Those moments as they go up in embers

Will know.

Those moments in between

They hold more memories

Than those of our lives lived

They hold more emotions

Than those in our consciousness felt

They hold more possibilities

Than those in our hearts believed

Those moments in between

With a mind and heart of their own

The time in it, we can never own

Just remember occasionally

Like I'm doing now

And smile or cry,

Or just let them go

By myself

I sometimes wish
That I had a park near my house
Even a little one with a few big trees would do
With a small walkway
And a bench or two

If I were dreaming bigger
I'd wish for a stream or a river
Oh boy, that would be so much better!

I'd go for short walks
Or long ones
Or just sit around,
And watch the clouds pass by
Up over the highest branches
Where the leaves danced too

A little soft green grass would be nice
Where I could walk barefoot
Maybe even have a lie-down
When no one else was around

Wouldn't that be nice?

I could sit and write
And watch the birds be
Sing off key

And when it rained
I'd take my polka dot umbrella
And quickly run there
To have a leisurely stroll

It sure would be nice
To have a park or a stream,
Nearby, for me to just go dream :)
By myself

In his smile

He was smiling.

A shy happy smile.

As he walked along.

She wondered if that’s how he had smiled when he had first met her.

When they had courted.

The kind of smile that melted hearts

Made girls wonder

Wish it were them that he was thinking about

Like she briefly wished then

As she wondered

Who he might be thinking about now

And if it were her that he was walking toward.

The Eyes

The Eyes ...
When the eyes meet
Not all the time
Not everytime
Sometimes
Some eyes ..
Those that seek you out in a crowd
Or ones you accidentally spot
Strangers even
Sometimes

When those eyes meet
Thats where the mirth lies
And how the magic begins

All in a fraction of a second
Fractions
That take you from
Meeting
And beyond to knowing
And rarely
Preciously rarely
Beyond to understanding

Two seconds
Of two pairs of eyes meeting
Can convey a lot more
Than a thousand spoken words

But who's counting ?
Who's noticing the mirth and the magic
That sparkle
and just as quickly
Get supressed

He saw the mirth in mine
I felt the understanding in his
We knew the magic was there
I chose to look away

Sometimes

Sometimes,
I think over matters of the heart
With my head

Sometimes,
I wish I could run far away
Have a clean slate and a fresh start
Do good there
Do right

Sometimes,
I realize my life plans haven't worked out quite the way they should have
What once felt obvious, now feels herculean
What was once comfortable, is now disconserting

It happens. Sometimes.

Sometimes,
I realize that forever ends too
Short term becomes long term
Life chooses to not make sense
Not even try

It's okay to yell at someone
It's okay to push people away
It's okay to just be silent
It's okay to change all the rules
Sometimes.

It's okay to hold on. A tad longer that allowed.
It's okay to let go. Before I thought I would.

It's okay to be hated.
When thats better for them.
It's okay to be misunderstood
When it smoothens things out.
It's okay to be misinterpretted
When that works out better
It's okay to be judged.
And misjudged.
When you just dont give a damn
Sometimes.

It's okay to want a hug
It's okay to like someone
It's okay to hate someone
It's okay to be terribly confused
Sometimes

Those little things

Peace
Peace is lying on the back seat of the car
Watching the trees buzz by
Sky so blue
Up so high
Small piece of chocolate put in the mouth
Hair occasionally, absently stroked
Lying on the back seat of the car
Lying on his lap

Doubt
Doubt is something enormous suddenly sinking in
Getting through courtship
Getting through the engagement
Gushing through the wedding
Skipping through the honeymoon
Standing in the grocery store
Wondering what topping he likes
Not knowing how big the thing you have gotten into is
Not knowing if you can handle it

Hope
Hope is believing without reason
That things will get better
That the better job
That other person
All those solutions
Or just any of the above, happen
Without much reason, sometimes with it.

Wish

:)

A wish is .....
A big hope, mixed with doubt, that gives us peace - in just being there
A belief in the hope
A reassurance in the doubt
And a reason to be peaceful :)

Volatility

Burn the bridges

Set fire to the rain

Build up the ridges

Let go of those reigns

 

It’s now

Before Never

All that grew

I sever

 

One, two then three?

Life was never meant to be free

That, more and more I see

This Februrary

Not enough

She sat looking into her computer
One movie and 2 chat boxes
Alternating between the two
Her sister
And best friend
And a whole bunch of un-shed tears
Caught up in her throat
She told her friend that she wanted a ditch
A big one
Filled half way with quilts and pillows
So being buried there would be perfect
But what she wanted to do was
Scream
Really scream.
As she cried
Maybe even thrash some glass
The shattering of glass could be something that might calm her down
She'd told herself she was ready
But hadn't realized what she had signed up for
If she had,
She knew for certain that she'd never have waited this long
Not for this
She would have taken care of it,
As she saw fit
But, that ain't true
Back when the age was right,
The time wasn't
Age wasn't that big a deal now
That was a fact
Which she knew
Was aware of.
Almost always
Except when they brought it up
Then she felt old
Ancient
Her best friend tried to joke it away
She smiled
But it wouldn't reach her eye
Because the tears were busy pricking her there
Was this it?
What this what it was going to be?
Damn.
She felt doomed.
There was no where to run.
Nowhere.
How could he
After all those years
Not understand even the basics of what made her
How
It didn't make sense
Nothing did at that point
Except the craziness of it all
Why of all the blessed countries of the world
Did she have to be born in that one,
Where this was a common cultural practice?
She knew she could have done a lot worse
If they were playing that game
That she had it better than many
In most things
Most
Not this
Definitely not
Some days there was hope
And then other days were like this.
Maybe all one needed
Was someone to come over and say
"It'll all be okay sweet heart"
Like they really meant it
And maybe
A hug could help too

Of course
A friend
A sister
And a whole lot of words
Poured out
Those help a little too
Or at least enough
To get one to sleep out of exhaustion
Rather than moroseness

Someone’s first choice

I’ve had men in my life.

Apart from my dad of course.

Some who’ve felt so perfectly right – from my heart,

and some from my head.

Some who made me feel nice inside.

Some, with who, it feels right when I’m with them, 

but not when am without

Some, for who it feels right from a distance, 

but when together, I'm left wondering

Some who sang for me

Some who took me on long drives

Some who've even helped me trees

Some who've promised sensitivity

Delivered that, with the opposite

Some who've made me laugh uncontrollably

Some who've made me smile

Some who've made me cry.

Some I met in my social circles,

Some I met online

And some, who my parents arranged for me to meet

Some who were in love with me

Some who loved me

Some who liked me

Some who found me interesting

And some who wanted to define me

Some I’ve loved

A couple I’ve been in love with

Many I liked

Some I wondered about

Some who’ve almost perfect fit my list

Yet made me wonder if

Some who were so far from the list

Yet felt like a perfect fit

Some I fought against

Some I fought for

All these men in life

Of course, each of the above was not a separate (group of) entity(ies)

Many statements describe the same man

Of all these types of men in my life

Thus far,

There hasn't been anyone (apart from my dad of course)

To whom I was the first choice

They might have said I was

They might have even believed I was

But, when push came to shove,

At the right time, I wasn’t

So far there hasn’t been anyone

Who has felt the need to fight for me

Not more than 1, who has inspired me to fight for him

Thus I wait

Patiently,

Mostly happily

For that person

Who makes me want to fight for him

Because he’s fighting for me too.

Because I am and will always be his first choice. 

As her hands let go

If I had been a painter,
I would have drawn her clear
Up on a narrow cliff
with just enough space for,
As she stood with her back stiff

I would have painted her with a long dress
The colour of midnight
Flying despite the rain
because of the harsh, ruthless wind
Her hair, not too long
Yet undone
Being swayed by the rough gusts

Her hand outstretched
Her eyes almost blank
Mostly undone

The rain would be falling
Long and hard
And her hand tightening
As something fell from it
Something she once held
Tightening not to hold it back
But to let it go faster
Like sand that's contained in hands

She'd tried
God knew she had
Desperately, relentlessly tried to actually hold on to it
To protect it
Had
Not anymore
She had nothing more to give
It had all eroded like the rocks
From the cliff she stood on

Now she wanted no more of it
Not when it left her so empty
That even tears didn't fall
As she let it go

The sadness she felt
Oh, that she did
Was completely passive
Like the sadness from the person who once was
Was it forced?
Probably not
But it was as much for what could have been
As it was for what had been

But it was time to let go
And let go she did
By holding it tighter
Knowing it'll find it's way out faster

The rain thrashed on her
The drops were cold
So was the gale that thrashed at her face
If it hurt her, it didn't show
Maybe because she had nothing left to give
Nothing left to feel even for her own pains

Nothing but the pull of gravity
So strong, she didn't try to fight it
Just knew it was heavy
Everything that was left with was too heavy
Everything except that which was already leaving

I would have painted her so
Standing there alone
More alone than lonely
Looking like the last person alive
Who vaguely remembered days better
But was battered by the storm after
Battered by the fight she'd put up
And eventually lost
By winning
Or won, by losing
She couldn't tell which now
It didn't matter
She'd once hoped
Foolishly believed even,
that it might have.

I would have painted her there
And had people wonder
How did she end up there
Does she have a place to go after?
How will she get away from there!

But I ain't no painter
I've only got words
So I write her as I see her
In my head
And hope one day
Someday
She finds her way out
and then, I'll be back
Writing about that too.

For now,
she stands
Eyes looking at something far away
Hands almost empty
The sand or star dust
Whatever that was
Worthless or invaluable
Almost all gone now
And she was left there
Standing
With just the ruthless cold rain
Still slashing down on her