Tag Archives: lifelessons

Swooning with the stranger in you

You find so many things on the way. The withering leaves, shrivelling tree bark, gaily faces, drooling ones, tender leaf blade that just saw an inch of land, a sand grain holding a bead of sweat, a surgical knife with blood that many are living for, two ignorant eyes with false hopes, a harassed soul, a soul with a bunch of hard earned notes.. and many different strangers ..

Out of all these, we are all a stranger to ourselves, few interesting lost pieces, trying to find ourselves in others. Every day, every moment, we try to find the self. A beautiful stranger indeed. There are more to these tiny, imperfect things that we find on our way. To find the mysterious, creative stranger in you, look more into things, in an enrapturing way. There’s a different meaning to what you see in others. They’re broken because of something, they’re not greedy since their birth, there’s beauty behind their ignorance, there’s a flow of lines behind every broken heart. Go, find it- you’ll find yourself. A new stranger.

When I see a broken heart, I’m just a stranger helping it fix. I find a fallen leaf and I’m a stranger who’s admiring its imperfections. I’ll be swooning, with my first hard earned award in my hand and I’m that stranger who blushes looking at her love.
Just, a stranger, trying to mend your soul. By a smile or by whatever it takes.

Learning to swoon with the stranger in me, you helped me find it. If I’m a ruptured soul, dear stranger, will you help me mend it?

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if i’m let

over the crumbled glass
veiled on the sidewalk
striding
my constrained steps i count within
narrow time frame
under cotton-like
golden threaded shreds
wanting to be concealed amidst fragile beauty
untouched
to find the self elsewhere
blooming, cringing
clasped above mediocre
if i’m let-
to be lost, misled
to step on the glass
and lose a drop of blood

 

Featured Image Location: Bombay (now known as Mumbai)
 Photographed by my friend.

 

 

under her dusty eyelashes

through the icky alley
she flees-
wild
tightening reins
the horse neighs in soreness

on its hoofs
as jangle of the heavy,
shiny chains disturb her
it can’t trot
more
halting is no option
for it will saddle up
burden, torture, hatred
piercing her feeble soul

fleeing is no good
too, i would say
for she will flounder in dry
rawness
striking out blithe hours
disparity as such is
fatal
to you too
because it is the person
same, indecisive—
sprinting fierce
away from the muffled shadows
created under
her dusty eyelashes

once spawned
to be bore
again i warn—
running is ruinous
standing lone under
yellow flickering bulbs
i see
she’s long gone

The Scars Of Innocence

She ran fast— under the scorching heat, with an aluminium plate sanctified of distortion, to avail the food that the refuge offered. Her tender toes burned. Five years of her life on this planet bestowed upon her the capabilities of bearing any extremity which a person stuck up within air conditioned walls all day will be terrible at. Terrible conditions of war had started showing its ugly side.
Her mom under the thatched roof, was lying almost lifeless, diseased and starving. Her mom’s everyday routine of availing food this way and feeding her first during the war times was nothing new. She managed to find the way amidst the anaemic mob to get a spatula of poorly cooked rice and a spoonful of stale vegetable.

That was a feast for her eyes and belly.

On her way back, the tiny soul didn’t raise a query of why she had to get the food today; circumstances had turned everyone flexible to any situation. Guises of people around spoke of the brutal times they were going through, that is how visuals have been for her since her birth being all these absolutely normal.


Her innocent eyes gleamed of glee when she neared her mom with the food. In the absolute silence, she kept the plate close to her mom trying hard not to disturb her and knelt down. 
“Mom, we’ll eat. It’s my favourite vegetable today” she said in her silent squeaky voice. Her mom couldn’t respond actively but managed to sit and her pale sulky eyes were filled with tears. After sharing the food that’s available, she laid down. The five-year old, with bruised tiny fingers, wrapped her mom around her neck and rested beside on the dusty rough floor, ignoring her still grumbling belly. Little did she know— death had already approached her mom that moment; she’s with a mass of flesh that doesn’t love her back anymore.


Munna, her friend came in yelling after a few minutes, “I found our horse toy that we had lost.”
She turned reflexively and whispered, “Shhh.. My mom is asleep.”