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

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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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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!

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Thank you for reading!

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