30 Days writing challenge, Poetry

Day Twenty Five – Thunder

Is what I would like to steal back from you
If only I could stop sulking in the corner,
Most probably unintentionally ignored
But ignored anyway.
And as you continue to let others drink on your stupid stories
And let them marvel at your amazing ability to hold their attention,
Which by the way, you have brutally snatched away from me in the process
Conveniently overlooking the fact
That originally I was the principal reason for this celebratory gathering,
I would like to curse you a bit more in my head,
While I get more champagne for you and the others,
Refill the glasses,
Throw a charming smile,
And say, “Cheers!”
Bitch.

*

AUTHOR’S LITTLE NOTE:
This blog series is a part of a 30 Days writing challenge, which is as depicted by the picture below (Special thanks to Pinterest):
Writing challenge - May'17
30 Days writing challenge, Poetry

Day Twenty Four – Novice

So many hours
I might have spent walking, watching, learning.
So many observations, I might have made,
So many theories, I might have formulated,
And proposed each one of them to the people I know
Some nodded hysterically
Some threw a disagreeing smile
Nevertheless, I remained what I am
I remained what I was.
When it comes to it, I realize
That a bit of speculation
Or ideas inspired from various sources
can be called commendable attempts
But still
They can’t save me from being a Novice at understanding the world.

*

AUTHOR’S LITTLE NOTE:
This blog series is a part of a 30 Days writing challenge, which is as depicted by the picture below (Special thanks to Pinterest):
Writing challenge - May'17
Narratives, random

The green eyed girl

Your eyes have a little of green in them.

Actually, no. Your eyes have a lot of green in them. And to me it’s one of the seven wonders. Of course, that might have went a bit too far, I agree, but you should at least appreciate the rarity of that color combination, especially in the land of blacks and browns.

And I am sure that I am not the only person upon whom your eyes have had such an impact. People must have told you. And maybe you are used to it but then again I would like you to know that the adjective – beautiful- is a sad understatement for your eyes. 

What I wanted to do when I saw you was to stand there a little longer. What I wanted to do was to catch one more glimpse of yours and one after that and maybe one more after that and one more after. But I couldn’t have done that without making you uncomfortable. So, I didn’t. As I looked at you, I realized that half of me was stunned by the sheer beauty of your eyes and other half, well the other half, was soaking wet with  jealousy – my materialistic brain doing the mistake of comparison again and shamelessly asking why my eyes couldn’t be like yours. Well, we can’t have all the good things, brain! Can we? And even if we do, we won’t appreciate it. At least the lack of it makes us notice its beauty and be amazed by it.

I was wondering about you and exclusively about you but bet you didn’t even unconsciously felt that I was passing by. And why would you? First, you were busy talking to your friend and second – How many of us remember the faces of people we see at the railway station? I wonder how you would have reacted if I had told you exactly what I felt. But a normal person wouldn’t have done that, right? I have been trained well for almost never expressing my thoughts truly. So, this thought of complimenting you never even crossed my head. I continued to walk. I turned back to catch one last glance but your friend was standing in my line of sight. Oh! How I wished she wasn’t! I turned and never looked back again. If I had the courage to go to you and praise you on your face, I would have told you  that they put a genius up there just to create your eyes. A bit of sap green in the palette, you mix a little of yellow in it. Not too much; don’t make it too bright or too light. Then you paint it throughout the circumference of your eyeball. You let it fade inwards into the brownish grey background of your hazel eyes. The green slowly diffuse into the grey. Use the thinnest strokes! Use the best paint brushes! The grey has a bit of brown in it, remember! Blend it well. And in the middle, there’s your pupil; jet black. Even if I try a million times I can’t paint it the perfect way despite the fact that the image of your eyes is pinned inside my head. That’s how beautiful, enigmatic, attractive, unusual, amazing your eyes are.

It’s been quite many days since I saw you and I think, I think it’s difficult even for me to believe that your eyes were indeed the way I saw it.

Exaggeration.

That’s what the other person in my mind says. You are exaggerating turquoise ink! You caught her glimpse. Just a glimpse that might not have even lasted a second! Could be that her eyes were not actually green at all! Maybe it was just the light in that angle playing with your eyes. Thought of that?

Why is it always so difficult to believe that something amazing (howsoever trivial it is) did touch our lives? Why is it so hard to accept that? I don’t face the same problem if something terrible happens. How is that fair? In our perception of our own selves, we are worth everything worse but not for anything that’s even minutely better. Interesting.

This random note on my cellphone is the only evidence that I did come across you. And I am glad that I captured you here.No brain, there is no exaggeration. My words are my camera. And this is an unedited photograph.

Right. And what a shame would it be if she was wearing contact lens the whole time.

Narratives, random

The one about the smoker 

​I wouldn’t be surprised if I forget you tomorrow but by continuing to write this I am contradicting the very first statement. Anyway, you know what – I am not a smoker but you might be the reason I might want to turn into one. Of course, you as a reason, aren’t strong enough but in this moment,  I can give you that at least. Not that I am falling in love; I ,  being stereotypical and secretly judgemental as hell as always need a ground breaking, sky falling reason to fall in love with any person and you! Well, you drive trucks for a living so… I am sorry that I am biased and I can’t respect you. I am sorry since you might not even be remotely close to the person I am assuming you to be but I can’t change my mind. Hence  all this – I disrespecting you and be amazed by you at the same time is quite puzzling. 

On a closer inspection though I realize that I don’t even remember your face or even the colour of your shirt ( Was it red?). I am not even curious. However, what preoccupies my head is –  those threads of smoke dancing in the air, carelessly gliding, flowing and bending through the curves of your lips. What preoccupies my head is how into the air they went, out of your mouth; soft mesmerizing disappearing bunch of white directionless trajectories.  You seemed like a sorcerer – blowing fog out of your mouth that incredible way! It was beautiful. Aren’t all dangerous things are? 

Good, that you are not aware that I am staring at you. Good that you would never know my name or be aware of my existence – we don’t need to acknowledge these mundane things after all. And to be brutally honest, I don’t care if you live or die – we are,after all, still strangers. But may I just interject that I think that you were born to smoke? I know it sounds stupid or maybe even offensive but you do it so beautifully! Effortlessly! There’s no performance! There’s no smugness! There’s no compulsion to appear cool. You don’t care if you are being watched at all! And as I watch you pass by, slowly and yet swiftly out of the frames of the window of my seat, I nail your images in the walls of my head shamelessly extolling the beauty of your shameless addiction even though you never asked for any of this. I have no clue why you caught the fancy of my head at all! But I had to capture you somewhere other than my feeble unreliable memory. I don’t get why it’s a necessity but my attention or admiration doesn’t seek any kind of qualifications – just a mild touch of oddity, that’s all. In that way, you are perfectly qualified.

You seem to be entangled in your own trail of thoughts. You are not looking anywhere or at anyone or anything. Your eyes are just pointed towards a direction of indifference.  It’s nothing extraordinary I guess but I am amazed since it makes you a perfect picture. And your mouth is a cryogen! As if a scientist made special arrangements in his lab just to place you there. As if an artist spent months just to paint that white cloud coming out of your mouth beautifully diffusing around your face.

I might never see you again by the way. I am grateful for that. And even if I do I wouldn’t recognize you at all or go speak to you – that being way out of my comfort zone. But then still, these few seconds of catching your glimpse are precious. How do I explain it? I don’t understand it myself. You, the smoke, the cryogenics, the magic, the cloud, the fog – all but a puff of beedi…!!

And there at a distance, a  crazy writer, is sitting in the bus, lauding your possibly  worst habit to incomprehensibly impossible heights. 

How do I explain this? I just know that I can’t deny the sad, remarkable, abnormal beauty of this perfect picture.Of your perfect picture. 

food for thought, my life

I am so fucking jealous!

I am so jealous of your pretty face, of the perfect way you put your eyeliner, of your lipstick shade,of your ear rings and your bangles, of your body, of your amazing dressing sense. I am so jealous of your photographs on facebook, of beautiful places and beautiful people, of your bike rides, video diaries, your successful travel plans. I am so jealous, not the right kind, not as a compliment – when your plane lands in the different continents of the world, when you attend those amazing concerts of your favorite bands,when my mom speaks so highly of you, when she tells me how brilliant you are, how you have made so much of your life, how your salary is simply unimaginable, how your future is even brighter than the sun in my dull world. I am so jealous, so fucking ridiculously jealous of how talented you are, of your stories, of your films, of your blogs, of your voice, of your sense of humor, of the perfect way you speak and sing. I am so jealous when you tell me how you drowned in alcohol the other day, of your wild nights, of your wild affairs, of the way your lover looks at you, the way you hold each other’s hands, the way you have fallen in love. I am so jealous of the way you draw, the way you submerge in it, the way you breath in colours and fill life in them. I am jealous of the way you can act and the beautiful way you can dance. I am so terribly jealous when you crack that joke among my friends and everybody loses their shit laughing at it, of how you handle attention, of how you meet their gaze, of how you are wanted. I am so jealous of the loving way you eat, of the smart comments you make, of how you seem to know everything about everything, of your maturity, of how confident you seem, how amazingly you handle yourself, how insecurity doesn’t seem to be even a mile close to you. I am so jealous of the fact that you can cook, of how organized you are, of how peaceful and calm you seem all the time. I can’t help but be jealous when I think of your disciplined life, your determination to chase your dreams and your ambitions. I am so jealous of how you are brimming with traits that I will never have! I am so jealous of how you are better at using all the qualities of mine that I find in you! I am so jealous of how amazing your life seem to me.I am jealous. Honestly, I am. Your brilliant achievements, your intelligence, of everything you will do and you do and I won’t and I don’t.

But even after all this how come we are heading in the same direction? Even after all this how come you are jealous of me? When it is so apparent that your life is much better than mine, how come we are equally destitute? You know that rubs ice on my burns but what is the use if I am thrown in the same road even after I get to be you, even after I trade your tomorrows with mine. What’s the point of this jealousy then?

What’s the point?

And yet…

food for thought, random

Just a sucker for conversations

Conversations, we are having it over tea, maybe over a puff of Marlboro, maybe over coffee, maybe over that dinner which I am too busy to eat because I am listening to you. Conversations, maybe the reason why I accepted your friend request or swiped you right or went on all those dates or made that first remark about the weather piercing through our awkward silence.Conversations, the ones that happen over moons, over  rainy days, over crazy dreams, over out of the blue topics, over craziest ideas, over craziest people whom we might or might not even know. Conversations, when I have lent you my full attention even when you are talking about things that I do not really understand. Conversations, when you make no sense at all and yet I am amazed by your expressions and by the passionate way you try to explain. Conversations,when you leave me in awe with your knowledge of things that I never knew existed. Conversations, when you tell me those anecdotes that couldn’t have happened even in movies. Conversations, when you say something funny and I can’t stop laughing. Conversations, when it is a perfectly scary night to share horror stories. Conversations when you weave the words just the right way and I suddenly fall madly in love with you. Conversations, at odd hours when eventually I watch you fall asleep in my lap. Conversations, when we argue about trivial things and I am laughing inside at our stupidity. Conversations, about things that I will tell noone but you. Conversations, when I can look in your eyes and see no judgement attached whatsoever. Conversations, when you try to mend my broken heart. Conversations, when your words inspire me and give me hope to begin again. Conversations, when in the middle, out of nowhere, it hits me how special you are. Conversations, when in your idiosyncrasy, I find my own identity. Conversations, when in your weirdness, I find a connection that I can’t let go of.

Conversations, the ones I wish I never had. Conversations, where you twist the one right word the wrong way and I am drenched in fury. Conversations, overshadowed by expectations, those that are too heavy to rescue me from hatred and unnecessary pain. Conversations, appropriately clever ones, the ones that manipulate me into doing something wrong without I being aware of it (until it’s too late) Conversations, that reek of my lost self esteem. Conversations, when I am conned, when I am disgusted, when I resolve to never talk to you again. Conversations, where you seem so brilliant that I jump out of sanity and drown myself in jealousy. Conversations, the ones I have never had and I would regret that throughout my life. Conversations, the ones I should have but I am too stupid and young to realize that. Conversations, which are precious but I might never know. Conversations which are non existent and utterly useless and yet they have my head occupied. Conversations, which kill dreams and aspirations and I let them. Conversations, which I am dying to have but I can’t form the sentences right. Conversations that draw you so close to me and those that throw you thousands of miles away.

Conversations. Self destructive as it may be but I am just a sucker for conversations.