Congratulations, You Made It!

Photo by Tim Swaan on Unsplash

Dear Reader,

I just have one question for you, which may sound more of a statement/reminder than a question, but here you goes: Would the puzzle of what to look forward to in the next year have truly mattered if we did not go through what we did this year?

To me, it wouldn’t have. Because until now, almost everything had been the same, fundamentally. But this year, there was a change in everything. Uncertainity has been the only thing certain this year and to know is there any uncertainity to look forward to in the next year is a puzzle indeed.

But while 2020 has marked havoc, distress, pain, it has also symbolized mental unity, strength, and resilience. It has taught most of us many lessons and made us learn something which we had forgotten to do in our hectic routines — pause. This year has forced us to slow down and actually see everything around us. Yes, this year has hurt, a lot. It truly has but here you are, breathing, managing, surviving.

If there is anything I wish to look forward to in the year 2021, it is neither normalcy nor consistency.

It is my opinion, and I do not ask you to agree with me but this year has made me believe that normalcy is overrated. Predictability is overrated. I have learnt to believe our inability to pause and stay mindful has made us too “comfortable” in our routines. Think about it. We had a terrible year! There is no denying that. But if there is one thing we can all try to feel a little good about is the valuable lessons we took away from this year.

I believe 2020 was an effort to provoke everything we hold important and valuable. To shake our minds and make us question the world within which we live and what we imbibe every day from it. And in the midst of a silent wave of insanity, we drew strength. We chose to try to stay grateful and self-reflect, let go; to bring about good changes in things that are in our control. We did everything we could and although things have not gotten better in a literal sense, I believe we can all find one reason — whatever be it, for us to hold our head up high and walk out of this mess we call 2020.

This year was a battle we did not choose, but it is the battles we do not choose which turn out to be the toughest, and in turn, make us stronger in a way we do not even realize. And we have made it ‘til the end, and this has shaped you — whether you realize it or not.

And therefore, I have decided to try and use this opportunity of looking forward to look forward to the uncertainty.

No, I am not asking for this year to repeat itself. But I have chosen to look forward to the possibility of impossibility, nothing and everything, good changes. I have decided to look forward to new beginnings. New challenges, new storms, new situations. I look forward to embracing the uncertainty. To telling stories of how this year was just incredibly peculiar and hopefully have it as just a memory. I look forward (not really) to being confused, puzzled and at bewildering crossroads. I look forward to writing more and hoping for a more convenient change and being as blessed as I have been until now. I look forward to strength, gratefulness and staying mindful.

This year has been bad for all of us and some of us have had it even worse. I will neither have nor give false hopes; we never know what can happen. But if there is one thing we can hope for ourselves in the coming year: becoming stronger individuals. To me, 2020 has been less of a year and more of a situation, where I have spent most of its span in the cliche “figuring out.” And ironically, this has shaped us positively unlike the events of the year. And it has made all of us stronger whether you have realized it or not. I can assure you that.

However, if I have offended anyone with my words, I deeply apologize. I did not intend on doing so. I have just presented my personal opinions, and they do not mean to hurt any of the reader’s sentiments.


Originally publshed in ‘A Cornered Gurl’ in response to the ‘Young Minds of Medium 2021 Hopes and Dreams’ Challenge

Hello everyone! Wish you all a happy and prosperous New Year! As much as we all had our struggles amplified in this year, 2020 was definitely a year to remember. Just look back in retrospect, can you really believe this is the year that went by? To be very honest, I cannot. If someone asked me to imagine myself in a hypothetical 2020 before 2020, I would’ve deemed it to be impossible. I guess it’s not!
Thank you so much for reading guys! Peace and blessings. Xoxo

Feel free to let me know your thoughts in the comment section! You can reach out to me here too.

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@theniharikadiaries

Inspiration

lalal

Photo Credits – Global Indian Stories

I wove inspiration from scraped clothes,
Tattered pieces speak enough woe,
The heart mumbled words,
Which banged against my soul,
But never came up to my throat.

When novels run out of unturned pages,
When poems run out of mystical metaphors,
And when life is a series of unspoken words and spoken silences,
She emerges,
And soothes my soul,
Whispers and calms my insanity,
And gives me hope.

The Rhapsodic Empress is the queen of concave shadows,
Her eyes mirror forgotten mottos,
She’s the beacon, she’s the stories, the forgotten warrior,
The golden memories, my mother’s lap, she’s the words,
That you wanted to say the most but you didn’t,
The ones you typed all the way through and then eventually deleted.

She bellows a tune that enchants my senses,
She wraps me in the nostalgia of intricate notes,
She sews my scars and paints my wounds,
With colours I’d forgotten exist.

She sings
An explosion of inexpressible feelings
And invisible wounds,
A journey which streaks through your soul
And shows you how deep you have fallen,
Only to be caught again.

Oh how, when I was younger I thought the music was all that mattered,
My mind swooned in the bliss of the pulsating pitch of the strings,
And here I stand,
When the melody is just an expression of the emotions my heart pumps into my veins,
I hear only what the lyrics tell me.
Where every second is a reminder,
Of that somebody.

The Rhapsodic Empress sings to my soul in every way,
She has a song prepared for every day,
I reside in the Empress’ reign with absolute faith,
As I’m aware that she’ll give me the air I need to breathe,
When the suffocation has throttled my pumping lungs.
She’ll give me the escape I crave,
From this troubled reality.

Oh thou Empress,
You’re my only addiction,
You drug me and show me amber shades of strength,
You teach me that instead of falling in hope of being caught,
By the somebody who once left you in tattered pieces,
Fall freely along with a parachute, and be your own savior.

You show me the sunrise when the rays cease to exist,
You remind me it’s my scars and my failures which make me who I am,
Don’t give up on me,
Because you make me not give up on myself,
Stay with me,
I’ll have a companion in this battle.


Originally posted on Medium through ACorneredGurl

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When The Heavens Whispered

heaven whispers

Photo Credits – Pinterest

It rained,
The pink of the flowers melted into a mystical mauve of matte,
As the skies spilled their tales into a cascade of condensated love,
The soil gained a unique freshness and sprayed the air with the calmness of a mended soul,
And the edges of the leaves curved concave,
As the nectar of the sapphire sky slept unto the moss green bed,
And they shone emerald green just like your eyes,
Only that I just saw the exquisite beauty of the emerald,
And never saw your true stone-self.

I feel the beguiling beads drop,
From the heavenly realm of jewels on my bruised skin,
It penetrated my heart when those beads quenched my thirst as they fell unto my lips,
The maple syrup of the sky,
Now reminding me of the maple of your mouth on my dry lips,
And the way it tasted,
As it gushed gradually down my throat and my tongue craved more,
Because your caressing hands on my shoulder took the weight of the world off them.
I sighed with satisfaction while this alluring peace my soul absorbed,
Like waffles absorb maple syrup.

But who knew that your nectar would drench me and slowly drip my self-esteem,
But then again, I was blithely unaware,
That your maple was poison in guise of the sweet bliss of your lips,
Breaking the waffle of my heart into shattered crumbles.

I drown myself in the tranquility of this secluded paradise,
I let the skies bleed purple shades of hidden bruises,
They blend into the amber of the threshold of the bijou empire,
It’s not raining anymore.

My lungs came to savour the breath of freedom,
I let the streams of the translucent skies dilute the colors of my tainted galaxy,
I ingested the shattered showers,
Because I was tired of my own tears quenching my thirst.

Maybe the soil will absorb the peace,
And the prying eyes will once again self-hydrate,
But my throat is nauseous of the taste of my lacrimal salts,
I won’t let heartbleed be my life’s sole flavour.

I’ll be a warrior and I’ll embrace my scars,
With heartbreak as my healing balm,
I won’t be a prisoner of your love,
I’ll let the rains take my misery.


Originally posted on Medium via ACorneredGurl, you can check it out here!

‘Ello Guys! Yes, I know, I’ve been posting after a really long time. Like a really, really long time but my final terminal examinations are in progress and have kept me busy. My last paper’s on 27th February and I promise to seriously dedicate myself to this blog since that day, plus my holidays will start from then therefore will have plenty of time to surprise you and keep you tuned! I seriously apologize for the inconsistency.


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When Reality Hits

Heart of the Matter.

Photo Credits – Pinterest

It killed me.
Knowing that I couldn’t live without you and you were the air entering my lungs in every moment. The sweet nectar in our love we tasted under the oak trees at nightfall before we walked in the same direction, hearts intertwined and the hands interlocked perfectly like the perfect key to a lock, slowly turned into venom, consuming each nerve with a spiralling outrage. I wrote my pain unto chapped sheets which bent peculiarly every time its friction acted against the rustling tip, and I mixed that ink with the ashes of the letters you wrote to me which I burnt. No, my apologies, the heartfelt letters I wrote to you which you sent back because you can’t deal with my darkest demons, because you have your own, while I thought love was all about fighting against your demons together and falling in love with each other’s flaws, fears, insecurities. You stamped over my soul like a mere insect in your ravishing realm of creatures you converse with, make them feel important, and you make them see you as their hope. But unluckily, the only hope, ah, so blind. And then you see another marvellous creature. The list adds on. A lifetime of warmth burned into the coldness of the air as you walked away and every sound intensified but nothing struck my brain as hard as the sound of your shoes rhythmically hitting against the stone pavement and my heart beating along that bleeding rhapsody.

And in the series of irascible moods and uncontrollable rage, irregular eating habits and countless nights of insomnia that followed, I popped up a few pills and drugged me with some delusional reliefs through sleep, because I dreamt only of you and at times, us. As it gave my heart peace knowing that maybe I will once again get to bathe in the comfort and swoon in the brisk energetic fires of our passionate love with you as my soulmate forever and even now I can never think any wrong of you at all because I believe you just wanted your mind and nerves a different air to endure for sometime and you wanted to protect me since you love me. Until I saw that you replaced me like a mere utility. Not that I don’t dream or think of you anymore, just my eyes bleed streams of broken hopes as the agony in my heart consumes my every light, as I dream of how much I want to hate you and all I can do is hate. And there I went down with the stupid theories you made me feed upon but you were the one savoring the delicious feast in it, that you only hate me because you love me. The crazy part? I believed it. Shit.

Been more than months, and I have figured out the reason for my blind belief in that. I was an already broken soul, who believed another such soul would repair me. And now, I realize, nobody has a mended heart. It’s just either someone is more broken or less broken but never completely healed, because it just doesn’t ever happen. I am realizing I am the carpenter of my own mind and I can choose how to react to pain and pick the battles I wanna willingly fight in. Pain is inevitable, as I implore myself, look into the eyes of my deepest demons lurking around the unknown parts of my shadows I was unaware existed, and I deal the way I hoped from someone else. I have decided to fall in love with my insecurities, my parched throat, the drooping of my eyes, my overfilled fridge; my empty voids and torn lips. I’m embracing my scars, and it’s not easy. It’s a simple choice, just not an easy one. But when the sun seems to set and rise according to your mood, it’s always ink black, because you made me drown into the despair of such nothingness that I didn’t even bother to raise my head above the looming anguish of the wrathful waters of worthlessness which you forcefully wrecked my mind into, to see the sun at all. But once you make the choice of that struggle of embracing your scars and walking ahead, you learn to take responsibility for everything in your life; not being at fault for everything, but taking responsibility for it, and you stoopingly fall into such a comfortingly pricking cascade of self-love, no matter how long the fall; because there is always the same destination to it, love. And all of a sudden I’m thinking: ever fallen in love with yourself so much that had all those feelings of love/hate you had for that grim devil under the face of a gentleman just softly melt away?
It hits me.


Okay, so this is the first time I tried to experiment with words in a non-poem way, and I guess it worked out? Let me know in the comments whether you liked this way of writing I tried to experience with and should I post more such works. Also, this is my first post in the New Year 2020 and hence wanted to do something new😊 Other than that, I will indeed try harder to post more consistently and I hope that you guys follow, comment and share!

Suggestions welcome!

Thank you for reading!

@theniharikadiaries

It’s night.

And the cicada bellows a horror tune,
Into the turbidity of thoughts of the chilled night,
That petrifying screech of intense terror.
And its horror,
Provokes the aeons and alerts their nerves,
With an abandoned pain
Of a long-forgotten tale.
And somewhere the oak leaves rustle,
Perhaps to calm the cicada’s call,
Or to soothe an ear bleeding velvet of woes,
Or to ruffle the rough pages inked with distorted handwritings,
Scratch poetry written loosely,
The pages repeatedly falling down,
As if the God’s way of saying “Nah, don’t write any further”.
Somewhere a broken warrior,
Loses a fight,
In the battlefield of life,
And the cicada is now the sound of vanquished hope,
But the wind is the voice of the Almighty,
Encouraging words of hope beckon this warrior,
To make her realise,
Broken she is,
But destroyed she is not.
The pieces though shattered are a part of her,
If binded well,
The battle ends.
And here I stand amidst this thick haze,
This hazy envelope of the mysterious night,
Foamed with the tales of broken souls,
Valiant, yet short of hope.
Eerie for some, comforting to plenty the night does sound,
But to me it’s sound of the ringing death knell,
As I stand up at the window sill,
And gaze up at the distorted moon,
Purposelessness crawling up my torn skin,
Hopeless eyes of archaic stones,
Shot with the hard-hitting lunar light,
The fire of this plight burns more bright,
My vision blurred,
Eyelashes drooping like showered rooftops,
My heart thuds against my chest,
Heavier than the crashed hopes of my past.
And I then see my destination down,
And feel the desire to taste,
The unfathomable joy of death.
Just one step,
And it all ends.
The final destination,
Of my psychotic pain.

I step ahead and fall,
A feeling I’ve never felt before I feel in my final breaths,
Freedom.
I hope you are happy now,
Do thank me for the boon I’ve bestowed upon you.
I thump down on the concrete ground,
My head hitting this pavement,
Has perhaps overpowered the cicada’s call.
My nerves bursting red in wrath,
I have pooled the pavement with demonic tears,
I feel the freedom through my deadened veins,
You.


Hello guys! So I’ve written this one about my perception of the night and what it symbolizes. The poem is grave, I do agree, and I would honestly love to know in the comment section whether my poems are now getting repetitive concerning themes and if yes, do suggest some topics you would like to read. I am planning to make this blog more interactive.😊

Anyway, this poem is about a person who craves her rightful freedom which has been stolen from her and feels the only way to now be free would be death. The ending of the poem, however, can have many views. In fact, this whole poem can have various perceptions of it. What I intend to believe, is that she wishes to be with someone whom she is not free to, and is so driven by that despair and so disturbed with confusion that she believes that it is impossible for her to be free with the one she wants to be, but wants to be free nevertheless. In the end, her despair overpowers the desire for the initially wanted freedom and she only wants to be free of the gloom which has sadly consumed her life, causing her to commit suicide.

Basically, the message I truly intend to convey is sometimes the best thing you can do for someone is let them be free. Give them their time and space. The freedom of choice and belief. Let them be them and love them for it. Of course, misuse of freedom is extremely wrong, but everyone deserves their rightful freedom to not make them feel like a prisoner of birth. Do share your views and perceptions on this one.


Also read: Before You End Your Life – Writing My Heart Out

And, the writing style of writing ‘You’, in the end was learnt by me through Miss Gabriela M.’s works, who is a US university professor and author of three novels and an exceptional poet.

Also, my friend has too started a blog and I was hoping you guys could take out some time to check it out here.

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An Ode to Examinations

The ink of scratching pens spilling onto the crisp parchment,
A hurried agony of mulled up words,
Embedded in your brain during the cicada’s screech in the previous pitched night,
Showered with caffeine shots to last the term.

Pensiveness penetrating the dead silence,
With you sleepily sunken in thoughts,
Every sentence improvised from your hazy recollections,
Of great importance in this examination paper.

An examination paper,
Is annoyingly questionable,
Stirring your mind with confusion deeper in every word,
Thoroughly analysing your ability to perserve,
Interrogating your every move,
With the shadow of the invigilator diminishing your desire to turn.

The walls of the examination hall,
Reflect the blankness of my mind into the seeped voids,
These voids which reside beside every student,
Absorb their thoughts and create a barrier,
Which restrict you from all kinds of awareness unto your conscience,
Making you unknown of the silent chaos in the examination room.

My mind breeds in these melancholic vibes,
Trying to produce legitimacy in the words I cough out on the dry pages,
Deeply I regret of not having learnt that worksheet,
As I beat around the bush,
Trying to recall what was written in that wee box at the bottom,
As I witness the wordless sheet in front of my sleepy eyes,
And the anguish in my heart intensifies.

I want to escape this gruesome state,
I can’t wait for the clock to strike twelve,
For that’s when I leave this gloomy room,
With the loitering invigilators ceasing their wide gaze,
With every student giving them a vanquished look on their way out.

There’s a rumble of question papers in the noisy corridor as soon as I leave that horrendous hell,
Plenty mistakes realised, some lucky guesses gaining accuracy,
Many beliefs being broken, and many hopes being risen,
After I give that enigmatic parchment to the academic Gods.

Who shall testify my intelligence and punish me using the magical red in their quills,
My fate hangs in their balance,
And all I can do now is wait,
For the verdict to come its way,
Which will decide my life or death,
When I’ll momentarily glance over the alloted marks, hoping for the best.


So providing a brief explanation due to popular demand😂, this poem is written to shed light on the atmosphere of an examination hall, and how a student is so immersed in thoughts, that he’s unaware of everything going on around especially the time. As a student, I tried to portray the aftermath and the preparation done for the examination as from what I’ve observed. Though the poem doesn’t express the mentality of each and every student in the hall, I’ve tried my best to pose a usual perspective on examinations.

The poem also indirectly hints at the unnecessity of taking stress during exams. A little nervousness and tension is perfectly alright, but,

An examination only examines your ability, and doesn’t determine it.

Marks don’t define you. But yes, hardwork is a necessity for success.

[…And cheating in the examination hall.. Usually not preferred😂]

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Dust

Your ample words, and the horrifying motives hidden vaguely behind them,
Act like a sieve for my thoughts and emotions,
My every bit of sanity you’re extracting from my brain,
You are making me lose control as I cry out loud to the forlorn universe in which I’m dying.

My ripped soul’s translucent tears,
Evaporating into the empty voids,
Precipitate the hazy atmospheres of my brains,
And it rains.
It pours heavily.
Their stone-hearted cold criticism floods through my conscience with rage,
With every puddle of anguish within absorbing my mind’s peace.

Yes, I’m different.
My soul’s scarred with a million miserable cuts,
Blood streaming out from these suicidal scars,
Red paintings on my parched skin,
And oh! Such an immense bittersweet relief I perceive,
From these habitual portrayals of huge, red masterpieces,
Painted painfully by my blue-green veins.
The veins which bind me to reality,
But I hate this reality,
because it has you.

Scrutinizing every deed of mine,
So unfairly you treat me and drown me in despair,
Hence today I shall free myself of this reality I’m enforced to believe are of my own choices,

You thrived on the thought that you could control me,
Use me,
Betray me,
Torture me.

But now I will finally be free,
For I shall expose the deadened veins of my neck to fresh open air,
Which I breathed in, and urged me to swallow, and not let out,
The blood I produced in every breath taken in this atrocious atmosphere,
But I shan’t allow myself these bloody lumps of guilt to taste anymore,
I will finally now bleed to my death and your profound joy and rest in your grim grave with pleasure.

My freezing body is collapsed in front of your feet,
I’m making you witness eternal peace,
You walked over my identity, my personality, my feelings and mercilessly hurt me,
You unreasonably desired to gain control over me.

So finally now my mortal body is surrendered to you,
I am dead.
Finally devoid.
It’s so easy

So walk over me,
“Bless me” with your chapped feet,
Stamp on my soulless hollow lungs and shoulders,
And make me bleed my heart out.
Puncture my limbs and eyes out of their places,
Tear my scars and bruises apart,
Wound me deeper,
Snap my neck and torment me further.
Grasp your evil dagger and gleefully into my soul thrust.
Fulfill your lust,
Finish me, demolish me, and crumble me to dust.


This poem is to emphasize on how intense a person’s feelings can get on being criticised on every single thing. The people judging them for everything they lack do not realise that they’re hurting them.

It’s important that people realise that nobody can be perfect or be exactly matching the expectations of perfection, and it is not even required to be perfect. We all are unique and have the right to have our own beliefs and the right to choose for ourselves.

We all have a spark inside us, a reason to stay alive and survive. Embrace yourselves. Nobody can do a better version of you than you yourself. You are perfect in your imperfections. Thrive in your inner beauty.

To all those people battling and struggling in all sorts of wars in their lives, you unknowingly inspire millions of hearts and give them hope and courage. So have courage, have hope, and know you’re the best💞

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