BEING ME…

Words are finite sometimes, for what you want to express

Dark Thoughts are infinite sometimes, when the wrong words are not suppressed

Wheels of life are driven by the actions thoughts and these words u say

A wrong move takes you on a journey unplanned in an unexpected way

You hinder, you curse, you fight, you cry

And life follows the path you may not have desired

You call it destiny, you call it bad luck

But it’s always the outcome of what you have done

And most of the times because what you have not done

Desires and reality are always such an irony

You swim through storms, you fight the odds, you cross the mountains

In a hope to meet, at the other end, your dreams and colourful fountains

But then you look back with triumph and power, feeling like a conqueror

And then realise, your helplessness to achieve, dreams lost long and u a failed warrior

Life still goes on till your stream of blood flows

A spark of hope still exists, amongst the darkness of anger, devastation grief, it glows

You absorb the darkness and ignore the hope

You blame the people, you blame the god,

With jealousy, hatred, rejection, despair filled within you

You take the life on a path, filled with gravels

And then you complain Life is such a rough ride, not worth the travel

But the hope still ignites

It still awaits for you to ride this chariot of life on a better path

You question the hope sometimes

The path of hope with hurdles many and with dreams unfulfilled

How can it still free you from the pain and promise a better life

Hope smiles shyly and says

If I had promises any and dreams which come with guarantees and warrantees

Dreams would be finite, with limitations many

Sky no longer would seem pretty

And stars would seem like a waste of galaxy

Yes my path has bumps and end result is unpredictable

But I am always the reason to make life pleasurable.

The time you absorb this hope and rise again

They say your life has taken a transforming U turn and back on right trail.

Your desires may be new, your fights will be different

And to be honest desires and reality will always be an irony

There will always be time of sadness, pain and defeat

But to rise from it and cling to hope

Your passion, your spirit, your outlook

Will make this reality good when you close your life book!!!

Forever and ever…..

They were sitting, snuggled up together, with her back resting on his chest and his legs wrapped around hers, against the bed rest, listening to there favourite song. Life was never so beautiful. It was cold , dark and dull outside, but there magical chemistry had filled the room with warmth and brightness. For them the darkness, the eerie silence, the dry cold winds   nothing outside mattered at all. There relationship had been through a rough patch so far.

Together they always shared an astronomical relation. The girl stubborn ,  who hardly made any friends , was so easily absorbed by his true love, was beyond anyone’s reasoning. She loved absolutely everything about him, the way he looked at her, the way he rubbed his thumb against hers  when they held hands , the way he  passionately talked about his dreams , the way he hugged her, the way he slightly shied to express his love, everything mesmerized her.For him she was his world, his dreams were for her, his every challenge , every hurdle was for her, his life was incomplete for her, his every breath was for her. But society didn’t approve there destiny together.

The weather outside was  stormy , with chilly winds, heavy rains , but they two were cosily snuggled together in the warmth of their room. He tenderly kissed her neck, she lovingly rubbed her cheek against his. She turned around, he pulled her tightly towards him , they shared the most divine kiss. It was early morning , but the darkness of the wild night had still buried the brightness, the crime squad had sealed the room , collecting evidence to label the two bodies snuggled together as a suicide case.

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No matter how melodious the music is, but when the alarm clock starts playing that at early morning, it sounds so irritating.But for me this was not the case , like most nights I didn’t have a good sleep and was checking the time at regular intervals so that I can get up and keep myself occupied with daily chores.As soon as the alarm gave me an official signal that it is the start of the day I switched it off and was happy one more restless night had ended. I walked towards the door to pick up the milk and newspaper delivered at my door step.It is so amazing that a developing country has such little luxuries which an economically average family can afford.I placed the milk to boil and sat down with the newspaper to catch up with the world.

Headlines in bold red color “City under threat. Bomb Blast…..”I was numb .I couldn’t read any further.I was pulled down again in my memory lane.I still remember, that was the last time when I was happy.I was the luckiest person then having a perfect life. A loving husband , cutest son and everything in life seemed so perfect.I was happy working as a school teacher and my husband Faizal was working as a sales man in a jewellery shop.Together we were working hard towards fulfilling our dream of owning a flat soon and providing our son Aalam with better lifestyle.Aalam was our world of happiness.Small treats in our life made us so happy. Faizal used to always say “It’s good we are not very rich so we can still enjoy little treats like purchasing ourselves new clothes good food and be happy” and then used to wink and chuck “But I would love to be rich some day” and then we together used to have a good laugh on our troubles and fantasies.It was 12th march 1993,Aalam was super excited ,it was his birthday, his dad was on leave and had promised to take him to his work place. Faizal worked in Zaveri bazar, Aalam used to love to visit his fathers work place, because that meant treat of sweets from Faizal’s friend and like any 5-year-old kid his world revolved around these little things.I too was on leave and decided to cook Aalam’s favourite biryani and kheer so when he returns from his dad’s work visit we could have a small homely celebration.It was a surprise for Aalam so even on his strong insistence that I should accompany him , I pretended to be sick and stay at home .Faizal and Alam left home mid afternoon to never come back again.In midst of beautiful aromas of kheer and biryani I got the news there were a series of bomb blast one at zaveri bazar.My world was shattered.

Today again probably someones world, future, dreams must have experienced the same fate.Today again someones Aalam must have been sacrificed to feed the hunger of power seeking maggots.For me religion is just a culture . A culture in which we are born and bought up , a culture where certain group of people have established their own laws and customs, culture which needs to evolve on need and demand of time for good.God sprirutality is far beyond that and we as normal ordinary human beings can’t comprehend. These maggots who claim attacks under name of religion are just power-hungry creatures where ordinary people like us fall victims.And no wonder these creatures have backing from other desperate power seeking groups like politicians and underworld.Its not a surprise how all these attacks are planned on places where we ordinary people thrive and no other bureaucratic place.We really need a miracle . The spilling milk grabs my attention and I return back to my present world where I am struggling to survive as I don’t have the courage to end it on my own.