The Bird with the Broken Wing.

Always such a delight,to sit in solitude in the haven that can only ever be mine.
Watching blue skies..watching the clouds reflected on little puddles formed by a leak in the water tank.
A red-eyed pigeon drinks water from it,at a shy distance.I dislike most birds,but am never failed to be completely amazed and wonderstruck by their ability to fly.
It's dusk now,when the birds return home..and there's this strangely beautiful sight that very oft takes place in the vast,open,infine sky over me.A thousand crows swoop in agile circles,almost like a dance.
The pitch black against the blue,always leaves me breathless.They're perfectly outlined figure,the wonders of creation!
Today,though,I notice a little more.I observe there's one birdie with a huge chunk of  of it's pretty wing chipped off,and yet soaring so high.
All of us are like this mighty one,resilient in the end.Always.
Flying,soaring,despite the odds that weigh us down.Towards the end,we might have bits of our souls chipped off,like the wing..missing,irreplacable..filled with the vaccum of hollow pain.There will be fragments of adventourous youth and comforting wisdom and the shadows of dark times.
But,we all will fly.

The dying spirits.

 We watch the pretty little sparks of golden warmth,born from the bonfire that is lit to mark the death of evil.
It sure is beautiful,but it's meaningless.I'm just watching a fire burn,giving warmth to all the evil,sheltering it,instead of destroying.Cold stares and wordless mouths,this is what my favourite community festival has become.
What does Holi stand for? what does it mean to you?
For each one of us,a festival and celebrating it signifies something.
Most of my Holis have been colour splashed and vibrant and beautiful and exhausting.
But this time,around,and it's been a few years now..I don't feel unto to celebrating Holi,at all.
Because it's not the same.It's about the spirit of love and being loved,and that no longer happens.
I miss all the old memories that are intricately woven in my head,making me feel warm nostalgia.
The Bengali aunty coming home and smearing gulaal on my Mum's face,spreading good-cheer.
The colour wars that went on for eternity..with all my little friends.The eggs,the tomatoes..endlessly,mercilessly smashed on heads.Being drenched with happiness and murk.
The last Holi I played was when I met him,and now he's just dead.
I don't mean to make it sound like a sob story,but I have such beautiful,priceless memories of the festival..nothing can compare.I don't want to replace them with the ones I know will not be half-good.
Happy Holi?

Amazing little miracles.

 
Trying to make sense of numbers,but they swim in front of me like myrid fish at sea.
They make my head throb and want a release.
So I run out in the pitch dark of the night,to rediscover beauty I know where it lies.
The crescent of the moon,today,looks so perfect pitched against the dark sky,
and my dog licks my ankle and dances around in happy little,frenzied circles around my legs.
The breeze is just about perfect..for a late night stroll,in solitude,at it's best.
The rocky little,cold hillside,looks inviting to sit and ponder upon thoughts,undisturbed.
A long awaited phone call,an hour filled with wonder,shared happiness and warm thoughts.
Now,I am left with a memory and a fantasy.
The memory is of my little two year old neighbour wrapping her hand around my finger and taking me home,
and the fantasy is one of slow dancing under the stars on a night much like this,to Saiyyan with the face I do not know yet,but will love neverthless.
I want these things to define me..dreams,memories,fantasies and undiscovered beauty and exuberance.
Numbers and theorums make no sense to me.
I know I am resilient,we all are,in the end.But there's something missing,something out of place.

The Cost Of Happiness

There's this very popular quote the Joker says ,in the film Dark Knight that goes something like "The monsters are not hiding under your bed,they're inside us."
That's how I feel sometimes.Hiding under the bed,curled up,safe and sound..protected from the invisible demons outside..but so vulnerable to the ones that dwell within me,ones I cannot hide away from or erase from my being.
All I wanted was to be a good kid..all I wanted was to not be the reason for my parent's fights'.
Turns out,I don't want to be a good kid,if it means pushing myself through something I regret every breathing and living moment of mine.So much pain and torment,for what?
I don't want to be a good kid just to please everyone,anymore.I want to be Happy.
This is the point where most people will tell me about how crazy that sounds..and that financial stability and material desires are way more important..But what's the point of a life overflowing with money,if you can't do what you love most,what makes you happiest? A life of insecurities and regrets,and unspoken fears..and God forbid,clinical depression? Tell me?
Happiness is an oxymoron of sorts,you know.It's more that worth all the money in the world,yet,not a single penny can buy you happiness.You could be Happy.

When A Tree Falls.

When a tall tree falls,
It loses much more than its life.
and now there's just an empty gray space,where it once stood,
where it once sheltered classrooms on sunny days.
No more flowers to pluck for Biology,leaves to rip off stems to shower on friends.
No sepals for us to pretend they were witches' nails.
No more running around the huge trunk,
and hugging it well.
When a tree falls,it kills you and I a little too,
bringing to life,countless memories we knew.
So vivid and so real they seem even today.
Days and afternoons,we spent leaning on it,
and watching the fallen leaves and orange gulmohars
add life to the dull grey quadreangle.
The glory,the giant that once shone brilliantly in the morning sun,
That completed our days..is now just gone,poof,vanished in thin air.
Making us wonder..was the beautiful thing ever really there?
When a tree falls,moved to it's death,
by a raging storm.
A new love,and an old forgotten one is reborn.
We stare at the space that no longer blocks the sunlight now,
and in fond rememberance,manage a smile.
And the very last memories..of watching it's top from the third floor,
butterflies swarming and fruits it bore,
Now it's just the slate grey sky crying to be outlined by the tree's peak.

Warzone

 "It's a strange kind of life,where doing well barely matters as much as just holding on."
~One Tree Hill
The reason I have trust issues is my family.
Most people think I'm exaggerating when I say this,but it's as good as living in a warzone,flooded with destruction,pain and loss.It's a hellish battlefield with undefined alliances,some of the battles,the toughest ones..are ones inside my mind.
I mean like seriously,I trust my dog more than  most people.
It's because of too many broken promises and assurances never made.
When I was little,I used to hope things would change and my parents would learn to love each other,
We do have happy memories,too..but somehow,the ones of the sleepless nights spend waiting and endless tears outweigh the happiness.Growing up,I just learned to accept that somethings are beyond reach and nothing can be done other than accepting them.Sometimes,life just spirals out of control and the most you can do is hold yourself together as you watch it fall apart,into tatters like a blank sheet of paper whose existance din't matter.
I will always be a little disappointed in my father for pushing us around and letting alcohol take charge of him,
A little disappointed in my mother for never actually moving out or getting a divorce.(putting up with violence is almost as bad as inflicting it?)
A little disappointed in my sister for trying to hit the self-destruct button over and over again.
And a little disappointed in myself for being disappointed at all.Maybe,I am not trying hard enough? Maybe I am not understanding enough?
Maybe unconditional love is actually too much to expect? Who knows?
 I'm not complaining here,or trying to show how sad my life is.No.It's just that these thoughts just fill my head sometimes and I can't get rid of them.
I wonder sometimes,what it would be like to be Normal.Does normal exist,at all?
Would things be different,if my family wasn't so dysfunctional?
Would it make a difference if my childhood was filled with happy memories and boundless love,instead of angry voices and bitter words,neglect and violence? Or would it all be the same? Would be the same without the cold wars,and the ignorance,and silent,suppressed cries behind doors,praying for a better life?
Don't get me wrong,I love and adore my family..and I forgive them and they forgive me,as much as we can.
But that doesn't at the least,make us the happy or make the memories go away.

Love is all you need.

..And music.:)
Yes,what the Beatles once sang is really,really true.
And after spending an entire morning on the cold marble floor under the bed,hiding from the world and secretly sobbing,I decided to let music blow my  mind and make me smile.
And guess what? It did.
I could picture myself take Paul McCartney's and Lennon's hands in mine and run wildly through  lush strawberry fields,without a worry in the world.
And sitting around a bonfire,while they strum the guitar to the tune of "I wanna hold your hand."
I could imagine Adam Levine singing outside my window,in the pouring rain ..telling me he wants to wipe my eyes,running his thumb across my cheek.
I see Ed Sheeran telling me to love myself and embrace the little things that I think are my flaws.
And I feel Simple Plan telling me,that the world has a million problems ,but their songs save lives and that itself is reason to live for.
I sometimes wonder what I would do without all the beautiful music that fills up my mind when I'm extremely upset or overjoyed,or pondering in the shower or taking a stroll alone.I wonder what it would be like if I couldn't sing myself to sleep on some nights or if certain mornings din't being with songs in my head,that I sang all the way to school.
How different and incomplete life would be without those melodies and beats haunting me in the midst of an exam or studying for it..or if a song reminded me of a certain situation,or if a situation reminded me of one.
How strange a life it would be,indeed..with no music to move me to tears and make me smile wide.No songs to relate to and talk about.Nothing to dance around in pyjamas to,nothing to hum while picking wild flowers off the street or reading the Sunday newspapers.
I remember this from somewhere,and I think it's a line from a prayer we often say at school "Help me appreciate all things true and lovely,and delightful."
And that one line mostly sums up how I feel about music.

You could be lovely.

I can feel the fresh breath of the summer earth upon my bare shins.
The grass is so fresh and green,It feels moist against my feet.
The cold,blue starts like permanently frozen snowflakes hanging in the inky sky.
Orion is no longer overhead,winter has passed.
I watching my lithe,graceful shadow dance as I pretend to be a prima' ballerina.
Pirouettes and grand ples..pointed toes,and stiff back.
The piano music,is replaced by the tinkling wind chimes and rustling trees.
Instead of a tutu though,I wear pyjama shorts instead.
My childhood dream in all it's vivid colour.
Now,I am a warrior princess on this grass..I can hear the beating of the wild drum,my heart.ing

Air kicks for defence,Brandishing my sword against my enemy,
A battle hymn recited.
Now,I am just a person..nameless,ageless,unconfined by the realms of anything,
spinning in dizzying circles..I can feel the adrenaline pump through my veins,it feels good
I want to fall to the ground in a lump,a violent thud.
It's wonderful how you can be anything you want.
It's also wonderful that I have a lush lawn in a city to dance on and also the privacy to do so.
The best of all is the ability to hold on to your childhood dreams,fickle ones,even..for they're not fickle at all,new ones can't replace them.I once heard it on the show wonder years..that how as kids,we are a little bit of everything doctor,artist,magician,pilot.all of it..and as we grow up,we lose out on them,one by one.
Be more.
 

Lessons and Lemons.

Have you ever felt that sinking feeling at the pit of your stomach? Wanted to just curl up in ball and feel numb?
Sat at the top of a staircase landing,watching the streaks of day fade,through the window blinds?
Been surrounded by a group of peppy teenagers and just felt happy and perfect in a timeless moment,sipping on a can of coke..you're quite,but it's fun.It's a cafe on an open terrace,the floor is flooded by loose pebbles and the light bulbs hang inside birdcages from the bare minimum of  a roof.
And you're all playing a tweaked version of Chinese Whisper to make it a little perverted and everyone's laughing like mental,being young...?

Felt the wind in your hair? Picture this bollywodesque song sequence with a bunch of young girls,who have let their hair down..and it's a breezy summer day..and their sun-kissed hair flies all over the place and on their faces...I mean,leave out the part about the guys falling head-over-heels for this sight,because they din't even notice.(:P)
Have you ever rediscovered an old love..? For a favourite song..a childhood favourite movie? :)
Right now,I'm listening to Drops Of Jupiter.So beautiful.:')
Yes,indeed,life is like a bunch of mangled up headphone wires..
Like a..thingamaganig (*can't thing of a suitable simile,mate*)with the smooth,shiny,coming of age moments and then there's the jagged edges that are the dark times.
 So,betaa,if life gives you lemons..make nimbu paani,because it's summer and I'm thristy.
OkayBye.

In The Shoals of dreams.

 

Eight years old,she's in her white summer dress.
She's looking at her tiny feet in shoals of water with brilliant orange fishes.
It's the usual Sunday morning swim at the river.
Little kids everywhere,women wash clothes..the sun boils down on the rocky beds.
She's excited,but she's afraid..she's not too familiar with the tingling feeling that the underwater weeds and tiny fishes leave against her feet,submerged.
Songs and folklores fill her mind this morning,and thoughts pouring in like July rain.
She imagines herself in another life,a whole new person.
A new perspective,a different bunch of days and nights.

"Of course,Sirrah,you're the welcome much."

I see hope swimming in your irises,it looks more  like a goldfish bowl.
Yes,your very eyes..that appear hollow,otherwise.
They're feisty today,and that fire of desire is here to stay.
It's a dark place,I  reckon,your devious little mind.
You're still trying to hide your pain in the creases and folds of your memories,aren't ya?
Beams of sunny hope evade your soul,ones you din't see coming your way at all.
They strike you like lightening,shake you thorough and stir your unbrewed dreams.
Those two lines of poetry come back to your lips..
 And You wait in Reckless Despair.

Celebrating Women?

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  “That's the thing about girls. Every time they do something pretty, even if they're not much to look at, or even if they're sort of stupid, you fall in love with them, and then you never know where the hell you are. Girls. Jesus Christ. They can drive you crazy. They really can.” ~ Catcher in the Rye

This is mainly a Picture Post.Also,I like saying "picture-post" for some reason.:D
I also like the words "fulgurite" and "Drosophila".Yes those are new words I just learned.xD
Anyway,coming to the point..so today is supposed to be Women's Day which has a boring-ish history to it.
But why,why just one day to celebrate women? Why? I am someone who's big on celebrating festivities,but I find this one a little absurd.
Tell her she's beautiful.tell her she's loved.Your mother,your daughter,your wife,your best friend,your girlfriend,your sister,your colleague,your boss,your muse,your teacher,your classmate.Whoever she may be.
Be nice to her! I know a lot of people who aren't...I know that gender equality is essential,but that extra bit of niceness and chivalry is always,always appreciated.Now,Go make her day! :)                  

.            

Blessings In Disguise.

It's funny how I had almost forgotten that there exists such a phrase as "Blessings in disguise" at all,until a friend reminded me while talking about an exam that got postponed.
So often,we take so many things for granted.So many things we consider trivial,that some people out there can only dream of at night.
I know I'm getting all preachy..but how many of us actually stop for even a fraction of a second to count all the blessings,instead of the problems lined up ahead of us.
Here are somethings that life has gifted me for free,and I will take a couple of minutes to acknowledge :

Times when my mother still calls me "Baby."

The introductory music of Fireflies that takes me back to the summer of eight grade,Every Single Time.

Silly childhood games I invented along with my sister.Eating grapes real quick with chopsticks,Table hockey (Using coasters,tumblers and the dining table)..and water balloon wars in my Grandmother's backyard in the summers.

The way the violin felt so good,held up by my collarbone,propped up against my chin.

The first time my coach pushed me into the deeper end of the swimming pool at age five,quite scary but exciting all the same.(To this day,I love swimming.)

That moment Back in June,when an old friend lovingly hit me at the back of my head to announce his presence,and greeted me with his goofy smile.

The taste of spongy Roshogulla melting in my mouth,the midnight I turned Sixteen.

Old Songs that pop into my head,right before I try to fall asleep at 2 AM.

My dog licking my face,to say "Thankyou,for the belly rubs." :)

..And lastly,The way my refrigerator is always stocked up with sachets of Kethcup.:D

In which Sunday gets a Second Chance.

About a weekend ago,I read this post on a blog I follow,about Sunday…and it made me think.
Okay,here is a revelation I have to make.I have hated Sundays  most of my life.Only because of that stupid Sunday night school-next-day feeling..only lately,have I come to terms with the fact that I have underestimated Sundays all my life.They desrve more recognition.
Yesterday,made me realise this more than ever.
It was a long,lazy Sunday that started like any other.and here are reasons why Sundays are awesome,according to me:
1) You can sleep in all you want,because that’s the very reason the day exists.no alarm clocks and snooze buttons needed.
2) Which also means you can stay up late Saturday night,without regretting it the next morning.
3) All my friends are home and free on Sunday,so they have time to waste over me.
4) You can decide to take a shower whenever you feel like,without feeling icky and Sundays are the best excuse one can have to linger around in those pyjamas without questioning looks being shot at you or being called lazy.
5) Music on Televison usually good on Sunday mornings,I have discovered.

6) You have a whole day to do anything in the world you feel like.isn’t that awesome? I spent most of my Sunday watching reruns of old shows like Full House and Fabulous cakes(Hey,I learned really cool words like ribbon cutter,royal icing, butter meringue) and Band baaja bride..and the rest of it daydreaming.

7)Sunday equals good food.All around you.Breakfast,brunch,lunch..whichever you have,is usually good.For instance,I had piping hot(nothing like it!) fried rice,scrambled eggs and an Indian Chinese curry..accompanied by tumblers of coca-cola..and I am someone who finds solace is food,so it made my day.And at this friend’s house… there’s idlis overflowing every Sunday,.almost like a tradition.(Only North Indians living in South India will understand this love for idlis.xD)
8) Compared to the cacophony that is the rest of the chaotic week,Sundays are all chilled out and mellow.I mean,if Sunday were a person..they’d be that kid whose house everyone loved dropping in at because it was just so cool.

9)you can put past you,all the disquieting events of the week with that few extra hours of added rest..ot rejoice about your triumphs that particular week.
10)Simply because of the fact You can just let your hair down and get away from the rest of your life,even if this glory is short lived.:D

Shadows of time.

I remember that night in bed, the way she curled her toes,
As now I watch her leaving shadow grow.

I hit her in flash of rage,
she left me feeling out of place.

If words could fill the spaces in time,
and if I could make this poem decently rhyme.

Now,she lives in her own accord,
and I push  myself every moment,to my heart's discord.

But,sometimes,when I notice her eyes no longer shine,
with the fire of desire they once had for mine.

I let my monster out of the leash,
Now,they tell me I'm sick,it's a disease.

Her shadow's grown by bounds and leaps,
they're too far apart,the distances she keeps.

It's too late now,to say please,too sorrow torn,
As I watch her shadow,almost gone.

Till Death Do Us Apart.

Ever wonder why no one sees the beauty in moths? All they see is a cousin of the butterfly with the lack of colour.Legend has it,that moths have lost their colours because they gave them all to the rainbow.I know people will only jeer at this and call it stupid,but think of their patience,their sacrifice,their short lives. The first time I saw a moth die,I was four..and even then,it fascinated me.All people see is uniformly brown creatures..but they are beautiful to me.Have you ever seen them in flight? that's when the inside shows..with big orange dots and little white specks.The only other time it does,is when they die and you can open up their wings,to look what's on the inside.Yesterday,I closely watched one perched upon the window sill,it sat there,patiently awaiting its death to come upon it,and at a point,it gently fell to the landing of the stairs,where it lay dying.I tried to turn it about,to see if it were already dead..but with the little life that was left it in it,it flapped it bright,beautiful wings and had it's one last flight.It's one of the loveliest things I have ever witnessed.The one last struggle for freedom,with so much pride,dignity and grace.The world was created in such a manner that everything was blessed with beauty..even the human eye.It's the perspectives that get flawed with time.You may say,they're different and that's why they're flawed..Perfection surrounds us,it only depends on wether we choose to see it.

Achey,Breaky,Crumbly.

I grew up in a  beautiful home,literally not metaphorically.
Because what looked impeccable on the outside was just a mere illusion to deceive outsiders.
We wove unreal wreaths of trust that adorned our heads.
In reality,the painted walls were crashing in,crumbling like leftover sponge cake.
But you know what? I made it,despite all  the odds.I did.
I don't have have medals and trophies,boasting of all my victories.
But I do have these invisible accolades called memories,that remind me of how valaintly I put up a fight.
The human spirit is more powerful than it gets credit for,and I am reminded again,as I write this that one only loses when they succumb to  adversities.The battles against yourself are the toughest to fight,and they live the deepest scars,but the heartache only leaves you strong as steel,on the other side.

Of Certain Ravishing Moments In Time.

 Honestly,Right now,I'm on the verge like hating everyone.Most mortals,I call my fellow human beings.On one hand, There's Ketchup and then there's people.The former doesn't judge me,pass snide remarks,isn't selfish,is there for me at times of need,always..the latter is quite the contrary.
But the truth is,I couldn't be too bothered.I simply don't have the time,honey.(*Tries to voice it like those popular girls at school.fails.* #sigh)
*Le Invisible readers* : Chal Jhooti! :P
*Le Me : How do y'all know me so well? I'm so moved.T_T :crywaterfalls:
(Haha,just kidding.)

Jokes apart,the truth is,when there is so much to be Happy about why waste an entire post talking about people,no? I mean,take a look at the world around you,there are little perfections everywhere.Ones that make you almost proud of being a human,and realising it.The little perfections that fill in the moments in time,creating the best memories ever..
Like the time a butterfly flew into my hands and dropped dead at my feet.
those oil slicks that I thought were rainbows,when I was younger.
The way the freshly mowed grass feels beneath my feet.
The absolutely divine smell of geeli mitti.
That innocent moment spent looking meaningfully  into someone's eyes before a kiss.
Watching how my shadow looks much more graceful than me.
The magical feeling of falling in love,that invisible attraction you don't realise.
The beauty of the twilight softly fade into the night,giving way to darkness.
The insignificance I  feel under the night sky freckled with stars.
Fat droplets of rain,like fireflies at night,hitting your skin with high intensity.

And so much more.:D

And All the scars you bear shall change into butterlies.

If I could kiss all your scars,
and make them go away,
If I could kiss away all the pain.
If I could hold you  tight,
so that you're not lonely and scared at night,
If I could turn all your wounds into Butterflies,
 So that they gently perch upon the scars you hide.
 Trust me,Darling,I would do it all,
I will love you till your  quite alright,and longer.

To most people,it's something that barely matters.But I know the pain that leads to self-harm,I do.The scars might fade,but the loneliness which drives you to the extent? Maybe never.
I do not self-harm,because I have been showed in multiple ways,little and big,that someone,out there,cares.
It's easy to judge someone who hurts themselves,it's so easy to call them weak,but have you ever tried finding out why they do it?
The plain truth is they are just unloved...love is what makes us stronger.It's all we need.Simple as that.
So if there's anyone,anyone who you think is depressed,talk to them,just listen,even.It helps more than you can ever imagine,it has the power to make someone feel wanted.You have the power to save a life,to show someone they matter.Go change the world.