cowboy like me

Our eyes were devices we could use to switch between worlds we had to call home because it was the only world others could see and worlds where nobody thought we stayed. Deception was the one language we could never fail to be fluent in and although we believed in kindness, we never gave it to ourselves. Happiness proved to be a mirage for though we tried, it was never ours to be owned: only to be stolen; for it was in the very search of peace that we had crumbled. We had swam through perilous waters and it somehow managed to drain every bit of goodness to ourselves from us. We were heartbreakers, yes, but the first heart we ever broke was our own. And though we tried to tell ourselves those beautiful lies of blind hope, we failed. Was life even worth living after going through those raging seas?

But you see, lying was an art we had learnt to perfect through practice. Though we could never lie to ourselves and tell us that we deserved love, we had lied to everything about our life and cursed it with an identity under which nobody could think of us as good. We were never born villains, we chose to become one so that the hopelessness in our souls felt like it belonged in our body. However, our mastery allowed us to distinguish between the images of a person with such ease. We could peer through the opaquest of hearts and manage to find just one hint of fragility. We could hunt for buried sins in eyes veiled with innocence.
Maybe that’s why we could never accept the bitter truth: that though we could never love ourselves we were capable of loving each other.

We wanted ‘us’ to be a lie as much as possible, but it was always there. And no, there was no rapid heartbeat or a innocent streak of red over my cheeks when I was first saw you. But something in the way you looked at me felt like you had entered right into that world where nobody thought I stayed. That world had emotions and you felt like a gentle touch of comfort which was only provided by home. You see, we were the bad guys in everybody else’s eyes but we couldn’t convince ourselves to be so in each other’s. Because all they saw was what we showed them but we had managed to peer right through that. We were from the same flesh and bone, and fought the same battles. We had vowed to never love again, for we did not carry the strength to let our scars breathe.
Suffocation was the coping mechanism we had enforced upon us since now more than a decade. Because though we deceived and cheated and robbed trusting eyes blind, we were weak.

Behind those fishnet hats and bold countenances was damage buried too deep to be felt. But something about you made me question everything I believed. You showed me that maybe I could show myself a mere glimpse of kindness.
Maybe, I did have the potential to truly call happiness my own.

But ultimately, the darkness had to take over the light. It was not your fault, it was just how we had fashioned ourselves. The darkness though in abundance may not be the strongest, and the light though in fractions can prove to be the more powerful. But we chose to embody darkness as the mightier, stronger entity. It was where we felt we belonged. We were bandits, and we loved our lies a little bit more. But you were the home I always wanted to call mine but never could. You were the cause of my fires and the only one who could extinguish them too. You were my only constant I could truly rely on and no, I never deserved you. We were heartbreakers, but in our efforts to go about the way we do, we ended up mending each other. And I feel that rush. The rock-hard handles of rusty gates have melted and every emotion has swung open and is rushing to reunite with the body where it is meant to reside in. It is not frozen anymore and is pulsing in my blood. You showed me the way to love myself and that pain and happiness are emotions which thought distinct in nature, come together.
Maybe, happiness could now finally be felt.


Inspired from the song ‘cowboy like me’ by Taylor Swift

Thank you so much for reading! Feel free to share your thoughts or drop in any suggestions ❤

You can contact me here and I will get back to you as soon as possible.

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Her Eyes Never Failed To Fool

Oh, babe, I know how much you loved to play hide and seek where you stole my heart and everything I could call mine.
And you always made me the seeker, dooming me to find myself in your vague reflection and you, the hider – never revealing your true self beneath those pearl eyes and teal stockings.
But the games were fun until that day when you took me to the lakes for one final round of hide and seek and stole my breath and strangled me in your ocean and left me to drown.

I never got to seek you again.


Thank you so much for reading! Feel free to share your thoughts or drop in any suggestions ❤
You can contact me here and I will get back to you as soon as possible.

Originally published in A Cornered Gurl on Medium

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The Unwelcome Guest

My conscience was under redevelopment
And I had visitors in the new home I built,
They came and go, some stayed for long,
But the unwelcome guest never left.

The unwelcome guest stayed in the bottom cellar,
Which was there in the pit of my stomach,
Isolated it was, as there was no room
To notice it, with the other visitors.

The unwelcome guest was often hungry,
But it had learnt to oppress its hunger,
Because in the dining room in my heart,
There were other guests being fulfilled.

Until one day, there was silence,
Etching onto the corners of my stomach,
The hunger of the unwelcome guest could no longer be suppressed,
It made its way to the dining room.

The seats were empty and the shadows lurked,
My conscience was now a building out of order,
I have learnt to fix what’s broken and I solve equations I get accidently right,
But the unwelcome guest has cast a shadow so dark,
Every light has ushered out,
The chandeliers in my heart don’t sparkle anymore.

There are no visitors willing to stay,
Everything is intact but nothing is right,
But the unwelcome guest remains ghosted,
Until one day.

As the unwelcome guest wants to take over,
And become the owner of the house I’ve grown till now,
Which though is out of order right now,
With the unwelcome guest pulling the reins,
My home will destroy to ruins.

The unwelcome guest can’t be fed anymore – as it has become the feeder,
It is eating at me and every part I call home
And leaving me with my veins ripped off,

It’s waiting for the pain to become so deep
that it’ll become a habit to master over time,
The only thing I feel would be emptiness,
Because pain would be the habit which will become me,
And the only feeling I’ll ever feel, but yet not a feeling.

The unwelcome guest cannot be defeated,
As hatred is what I deserve,
I have tried too hard to be someone I think I was
But now I know I am nothing,
But a puppet in the hands of this guest I did not invite.

The dining room has turned into an empty stage,
The windows are shut and the roof at a endless height,
The dust of the diner’s footsteps are hiding behind faded curtains,
The path is now paved with broken glass

As the unwelcome guest has become my owner,
My soul is surrendered to that invisible face,
Which has been proving me wrong since the day I believed,
That peace was something I could achieve.


Hello everyone! I had written this one a while back however I am posting it now. This poem is a fictional piece of work, with the concept of ‘the unwelcome guest’ being the central motif, that is a concept, idea, object which repeats itself throughout the text and is hence recurring.

The poem begins with the setting of a well- built house, with the unwelcome guest not being prominent due to being kept buried by the owner. However, gradually the factors the owners held on to for not dealing with the unwelcome guest eventually moved away which paved way for the unwelcome guest to take control, rather than the owner having the chance to deal with the unwelcome guest.

The main motive for writing this poem was to display the disturbing effects of the negative feelings inside us, and how keeping it buried does more harm than good.

Yes, it is important to have a perspective to understand our thoughts and emotions and our very being, but it is alright to not have an immediate perspective about everything, and sometimes feeling your negative emotions is the only way to gain needed perspective.


P.S – Am I the only one who is totally obsessed with the ‘evermore‘ album by Taylor Swift? It feels like it was only yesterday when ‘folklore‘ came out (which I am still not done obsessing with) and now we have evermore. If creating two albums in a year especially the year being 2020 is not an achievement then I don’t know what is.
Check them both out on Spotify here!

And here, I end this post. You can contact me here and I will reply as soon as possible!

Thank you for reading!
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@theniharikadiaries

The Business of Broken Worth

Photo

Photo Credits – Film Daily

She sighs,
Her eyes are sunken into dreams she has forgotten to see,
But her face is luminous and her hair shines
With the light she lost within herself.

She drags her feet because her wings are broken,
To that place where her worth is stolen,
Where her tempting appearance and fake smile,
Gives away the dread in her eyes.

She inhales,
The air she is forced to breath,
It suffocates her but sustains her too,
Her evening begins with candle-lights and clandestine rooms,
Where ‘NO’ is a word her throat can never know.

But then the sun rises and it begs,
To conjure some hope as it’s the sun after all,
But even when the sun rises her nightmares do not end,
She is left cold and miserable.
The only make-up you can see on her face now,
Is the dust of broken mirrors.

Her eyes are bleeding
The dreams which were taken away,
Her limbs are too tired to walk any further,
Each day she is losing the light from her eyes,
She was once the queen of fireflies.

And again she is doomed to be dragged into those doors,
To uphold fake smiles and reluctance ignored,
Her fate has imprisoned her with madness unknown,
While her destiny awaits,
To be sold for another night again.


Orginally featured in “The Writers Hub” – a recent initiative presented by LHS MUN and Ankara!

• The Writers Hub gives amateur as well as professional writers, a platform to showcase thier writings to a large and open audience.
You can submit poems, stories, articles, blogs, pieces of any genre free of cost, with no age linit for the writers!
•The writer will get complte credit for thier post.

Click here for details on how to become a part of The Writers Hub community!


Thank you for reading, it is deeply appreciated. My serious inactivity here gives you no reason to comment but feel free to let me know your thoughts on this one and thank you again! 
You can contact me here.

@theniharikadiaries

 

Even The Healthy Are Sick

Coorna

Photo by freestocks on Unsplash

It’s 6:30 in the evening and I am sitting here, in dire lack of inspiration, just trying to write something, anything, even nothing would be satisfying now in these times. It’s terrifying, how an incurable (as of now) virus has shipwrecked every soul breathing. Though I am grateful that all my friends, my family, and every person near and dear to me are blessed and safe, these psychological scars bleed for love and affection, as we self-isolate and stay apart.

Millions of people have been affected by this misfortune, and I deeply hope they heal. However, it is no new statement to say that this virus has affected all physically healthy and blessed as well. We all are emotionally ill, whether you know it or not. I hear them refer to the termed “COVID-19 cases” as “the sick”. But the truth is, that we all are. And the whole world is.

   Every single one in the seven billion of the earth has been affected emotionally.

COVID-19 … It’s in the news, in articles, it’s in every conservation, every small and big talk; if big talk really is a term. I decided to not regularly watch the news, for I found it unnecessary for me to bother me with negativity on a regular basis. I refused to be greatly bothered. I get my updates only through my parents, or if I check them once in a blue moon. But the number of people who have been affected by the virus seems to grow by the day and it has crawled into the city where I live like a silent hurricane and I now check the news more often.

We all are aware of the safety guidelines. But what has affected every single one of us the most is the social-distancing. And whether you’re an introvert, extrovert, ambivert — we all do not like this. The isolation is tough. Times are unpredictable and there is no vision of what lies ahead. It must be remembered that this isolation is crucial and though it is tough, do not give up and do not take the risk.

The virus is not seeking a particular religion, color, sex or ethnicity to attack. It has affected the world as a whole. Hence right now, we all have to stand together as one community, irrespective of our differences. There is a need to stand mentally together.

We cannot refuse to accept that we do feel more negative emotions now. We’re more frustrated than usual if something doesn’t work out as hoped, our routines are fluctuating which affect our energy and interest in working, in spite of it being your passion. We may even project our psychological stress onto our loved ones and get involved in fights, on even the tiniest and insignificant things. We all have been emotionally affected by the virus.

Though COVID-19 is a biological disease related to our physical health, it doesn’t mean our mental well-being is not important. It is as important as our physical well-being. Do not let yourselves shatter from the fear. We are not alone, abandoned or lonely. We all are together. And just because we are physically apart from our loved ones doesn’t mean our hearts are apart. Call them, send them a message, let them know you’re grateful. Talk, not about the virus. Talk so they know that there you are with them and so they forget about the virus’ terrors for some time.

We cannot control negative emotions. They’re gonna be there. They are there. And there’s nothing you can do to make them vanish. But you can always prevent those emotions from controlling you. These scars are going to affect us directly or indirectly, and that is inevitable. The only thing we can do is confront these scars. Confront negative emotions. Because only in that way can we realize the importance of strength, gratefulness, and hope in this battle.

Yes, it is frightening. We are afraid, we all are. And that is completely okay and normal. Breaking the preventive method of isolation just because it is tough, is not worth it and is wrong because social distancing and self-isolation are most effective for the prevention of the virus spreading. But taking care of yourself, not only by washing your hands but by engaging yourself in activities that bring you positive vibes is equally important.

I barely had any knowledge about cooking. I did help around, but I had no major contribution. But during this quarantine I did more, as I learnt more. I finally tried out that chocolate cake recipe I always wanted to! It turned out quite well! Mom helped, though. So right now I’m trying to learn some basic cooking, and I deeply hope to make a proper meal one day without assistance. Music heals me in unimaginable and unexpected ways, so I usually listen to music while doing my homework, as it motivates me to not stop out of boredom.

I read novels like ‘False Impression’ and ‘Everything is F*cked’, and ‘The Merchant of Venice’ is next on the list. I am not able to write as I usually do, but I am trying to do my best to continue and write anything, though it may not be worth reading; and then waiting for the inspiration to strike while I write my best nothing. I have chosen to self-reflect and have resolved to work on myself and become a better and mature thinker.

What I’m saying is soothe your soul with whatever works for you the best and do not confuse physical barriers to be emotional ones. If you’re feeling low or disturbed, you can always talk to your loved ones about it, they’ll understand. We all are under the same cloud right now. And we all can get through this. If you can, stay grateful and strong. It will be alright. Please try not to let fear get the better of you.


Do not let your psychological scars bleed you of hope.


Thank you so much for reading! Stay safe and blessed.

Originally published on Medium through ACorneredGurl. Read here

broken But beautiful

BBB final i guess

Photo Credits – Collosal

                         As we sip our daily coffee, the warm eclair of bitter bliss dances down our hoarse throats of incomplete sleep and periodical insomnia, our eyes are half sunken into our evanescent thoughts fading in and out, us barely awake. We are still dreaming, perhaps this coffee shall render me conscious and out of this REM of my brain cells. But why, aren’t dreams to be turned to reality? The morning chirper squeaks her little tell-tale through the verandah of my dusty apartment. Does she have something to say, perhaps a debt to be paid? A belief which exists narrates such that everything, every moment, every person you meet, every somebody and nobody has a particular purpose in your life. Seeing rebirth and reincarnation as a ‘business of the unseen dynasties’, our immortal souls all owe some karmic duty to someone and the people we meet are either indebted to us or vice versa due to certain dues in our previous births, and the people with which the ‘transactions’ are then complete, leave us. Just simply out of our lives. That soul in that someone’s body is officially done with us, in all cosmic, karmic, witchy-voodoo aspects. Every human connection can be explained thus and provides our inquisitive minds an insight too provoking to be neglected in the face of the boundless knowledge of the vast universe we are unaware of.

But I yet wonder, if someone is ‘done’ with us, the transaction is completed then why is that emotion not the same for me as it was for you, if that certain century-long debt is ultimately paid? If you left me as you got your end of the bargain, why isn’t the same held for me? Why do I still think about you if our bond has inevitably returned to cosmic dust just like my now shipwrecked soul and I am finally free of some ‘debt’? Ironic how our relation was literally some business game to you and to me a journey where we don’t owe each other feelings, but feel out of our own will, love without reasons. But you left as you met someone more business material and me indebted to this agony you’ve overthrown me with as collateral. This coffee will give sleepless nights nevertheless, the birds will screech disturbingly as they electrocute my flesh and bones with the taser of their unbound ecstasy, my ears ring. I’m stuck in this aura of heightened sounds and fluctuating migraines and nothing can change the fact that my very conscience has broken into invisible shadows and bleeding flashbacks.

But I have hope, like that of an innocent child. Not that I want my life to chime like the bell of that ice-cream truck entering into our hustling streets but maybe I just want the calm breeze to bring my mind some peace too, and not annoyance and a tingling itch to my scarred skin. Some purpose. Some meaning. I’m tired of suffocation. Because I will always be indebted to me for all excursions of my eternal soul, and I owe me life, dance, music, food, art, I owe me joy. I owe me love. And happiness is a choice which I shall choose for myself, by myself, through myself. I wanna fall in love with myself and for that I must accept myself the way I am, however I am. Why should I fall into this never-ending pit of self-hatred? I think I owe me love, I think I owe my scars some air, I don’t want to conceal them anymore, they deserve oxygen. I deserve love and I am capable of it, because I am a stronger being after your every pain you try to destruct me with. And I can stand on my feet with bleeding ankles and smile too. I can have a thousand reasons to cry and yet not cry and stay happy. It is all my choice. I can accept my wounds, however they are, I choose the pain to build my self-esteem, and not tear it down.

I’m broken but beautiful.


Hey Guys! So I posted something in this style again and I can’t help denying that I’m finding writing prose more fun than poems. Of course, I’ve kept my resolution, I’m writing more now that I’m on holiday, my examinations have ended! Also, with the Corona Virus pandemic, I’ve quarantined myself with more activities. Please take care of yourself, wash your hands with soap frequently and maintain social distancing. For my extrovert readers, it’s okay, you can get through this. And please do not take the risk of going out as much as possible. There are a bunch of stuff you can do, thanks to the Internet and its billion provisions, you can read a bunch of books, watch movies you’ve always wanted to. Call up your friends and family, keep your hearts close in spite of these necessary physical distances. Spend this solitude as satisfyingly as possible and try to enjoy this quarantine as much as possible.

So returning to the post, that belief does exist and I have not made it up and is known as ‘Runanubhanda’, according to Vedic Astrology, and is an existing physical as well as emotional bondage with our contemporaries. It can help us understand every encounter that happens in our lives with people, from friends to enemies. It reasons ever suffering we encounter in life with a ready made answer in the unfolding of the past life debts, both positive and negative, from our past.

The latter that follows just has one underlying message – you cannot control what you feel. Believe me. You can only accept them and accordingly take an appropriate decision. You cannot change your feelings, numb or suppress them, you can only affect the way you go about your feelings, how you deal with it. It’s okay if you weren’t okay. It’s okay to feel angry, hurt or sad. It’s okay and you do not have to beat yourself up for it. You’re only human, you learn and you grow. It doesn’t mean you’re weak. You are capable of love and it begins from you yourself. There’s a unique beauty in self-love and it’s never too late to fall in love with yourself. You will always be with you in this journey of life. There’s beauty in your scars, your pain, the hurt and you can heal and you will heal. You deserve more than painful love. Life is moving and the healthiest thing for your heart is to move with it.

Just believe in yourself. You’re worth having hope, no matter what💕


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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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The Rhapsody of The Blues


An archaic tune playes over the dusty radio,
Reminds me of a dwindling duet I almost forgot a second back,
Every cosmic binder of the universe,
Wants me to never forget the rhapsody of our love.

Our rhapsody was melodious,
The tune was full of life,
And the lyrics of this rhapsody,
Were the loving letters I wrote you.

This rhapsody hit me hard,
But somewhere in the lyrics we drift apart,
And the bridge we built with committed chords,
Collapsed as you broke the guitar strings.

This rhapsody was our lover’s call,
I sang it and it beckoned you to me when I needed you,
And you followed my voice and sang along and gave me comfort,
But now when my ears sense this tune of the Blues,
They bleed a stream of shattered love.
And I scream louder than breaking glass.

Pillows don’t comfort me the way I was comforted,
When I cried into your arms and soaked your shirt in those tears,
My pillow only absorbs my pain but doesn’t relieve me of it,
The way you did when your chest was my only pillow.

I can hear your voice hiss through the corridors of my brain,
Corridors painted your favorite colour with our pictures hung up on the walls,
With this now irritable rhapsody playing in the ballroom of my mind,
Which is my destination to be in hallucinations,
When drowning in insomnia,
Dreaming of you in my arms,
Dancing an endless dance.

I can’t sing a note no more,
My throat is blunt of unspoken words,
The rhapsody of our love burns me down to a soulless spirit,
And this spirit can’t survive with her soul anymore.
You are my soul.
I can’t sing the Blues anymore,
Because you tore apart my vocal cards.
Pain is the only note I could produce,
But now I have a heart of stone and a spirit devoid of love,
Which has no voice of it’s own.


I can never caese my love for you,
You are my life and you are my death,
And now that the rhapsody has lost its life,
I dream of only death,
As I gulp down a handful of pills,
Drug me of a faraway fantasy,
This fantasy which I can only achieve,
With the sacrifice of my present life.

And the pills start their deadly effects,
As my body slowly turns into stone like my heart,
I am nothing but a mere corpse,
As grim darkness crawls upto the ceiling walls,
And as the noises intensify of the dead spirit’s desperate insanity,
I still hear over the drunken voids,
Rhapsody which still plays over the dusty     radio..

Greetings fellow bloggers! Across this wonderful interactive platform, I came across a publication named ACorneredGurl started by Miss Tremaine Loadholt. Here, I was made aware of Young Minds of Medium, wherein the youth can submit their unique pieces according to certain challenges. This time, the challenge was ‘How Do You Sing The Blues’ and this was the poem I wrote. The minimum required age was 15 and Miss Tre accepted me as a writer in her impeccable magazine despite me being 13. My wholehearted regards to her. She has so kindly blessed me with her generous and beautiful nature.

I hope you all take out the time to read this one😊
*********************
Thank you for your support!

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