A Girl

A girl is strong. A girl is refined. A girl is wild when angry.
A girl is magic. A girl is wine. A girl is a gilded quarry.
A girl is wrong. A girl is right. A girl is Your saviour in every fight.
A girl is a ramble. A girl is a rhyme. A girl is a gamble for Your every smile.

A girl is The girl when defined.

Eyed

Will my battered soul ever have a taker? Will my battered soul ever have a taker? Will my battered soul ever have a taker?
My head kept ranting this incessantly in the background. In front, my team lead was sighting slight discrepancies in our report. I didn’t care. Wait, but I did. I wanted my work to be perfect too. I wanted an accomplishment. Success. Where was everything going? I could see. But, in circles.

Unceremoniously everything blacked out.

___
White.
When I woke up, it was all pristine White. Aargh.. Melodramatic. In the infirmary. It was the 5th day in a row that I hadn’t slept.  Bouts of unconsciousness were inevitable and so was the constant humming inside my head. I tossed an aspirin for the headache and headed out. Coffee. I needed coffee! Three more hours, before I could put a dot to the report. I will.

I did. Four and a half hour later, I did. Nothing tastes better than success. And anything tasty comes with a price. So the price to be paid for the tastiest will be the heftiest.
It was late. I had to wait for a crowded cab. Crowd feels safe. It arrived. 20 minutes later. The crowded cab. It was suffocating inside, hot and airless. I couldn’t complain. I shouldn’t. I did, with a crinkled nose.

……..

A set of eyes. They’d intrigue me. They were the only difference in my otherwise monotonous routine. Sometimes those eyes ‘d find me. Today they were smiling at me. But, not because of me. I, like everyone else wanted this simple association to be different. Our eyes would lock for only a few seconds. The cab would speed towards its destination. I, towards my pool of thoughts. Thoughts, it was strange how badly I was tethered to them given I wanted an escape.
Today was no different. I arrived home. To my room. My back to my family. My association with them had gone from mono-syllables to complete silence

._______

Black.

That night in the black of my room, siphoned off all spirit, holed up by my bedside, I could swear that death had come to take me by the throat. And I could also swear that I saw that light-eyed stranger staring back at me, for a flash of a second. Eyes that were still a mystery. Eyes that thrilled me now. Out of everything in my life why’d They flash in this murk of woe.

Black

Black

And I then stood up, stared at death hard in the eye and snarled “Not Today.”
I remember jumping down the window. Down to the porch. And that run I took in the cold winter night. One cardigan.. The icy breeze cutting through me. Slicing across my ear. I could hear it howl. But I chose to ignore…
Something struck my foot. Some sticky liquid warmed my hands. Something. Those eyes again. They’d save me. I believed.
Blink.

Black.

 

Blink.

White.

 

Blink.

White.

 

Blink.

Those eyes.

 

White.

White.

For ages, it felt, I could hear only myself breath. And my heart clamouring, beating, pounding, writhing. I was bleeding. And my heart was pumping my own death.
Something hit me, savage, crude, craving raw hunger. My lips parched. I couldn’t sense any. Nothing. Sleep. My famished stomach kept sleep at bay. Nothing made sense. And then again, I started losing sense. Before the blur. Those eyes. Again. This time disturbing me. Frightening. Annoying.
I couldn’t feel my hands. Left. There wasn’t. My hand wasn’t. Left. I didn’t have my hand! I didn’t have my hands. . .

On.. on .. and on!

Bailando.
The speakers are still roaring.
So I was off radar for a long time. Reading, and I lost track. As always.

One ola.
The music pierces through the walls. What is it with men and football? I get up, dropping my book. It was at an intense turn (Barring the fact that it always is).
Men? My Mum is leaning over the plasma in a competitive stance. Alright. Nothing could jolt me out of my deep sleep, save..

DnD
Pura Vida..
Uff. :) Am too(also), taken into the madness. Will talk about it again. Next time! Before I go there: this little piece off the passion of my reading habits. Its like a letter to my favourite person of the block. I’ll be back soon! But while I am gone..this is how I feel for You. Reads…
So much so that I stall it.. I stall reading! Do You? I do, scared that the book might just end. the characters leave. The experience over. The scare of letting go in the truest sense of the word! It lets me on. It keeps me engaged. It keeps me intrigued. And when it has said what is there it has to say to me.. It leaves. There won’t be another. another 1st time. And I have to get it right the 1st time.

Do you stall reading? I do. Guilty. I finish books in a week that I would rather in a day or two. I surf through their pages unhurriedly. Reeling in its crisp or stale smell. The smell of fresh unread words. The same words said over and over again. With varied meanings. They amaze me. Simple words.  White Sheet. Complex formations. Complicated me. …. Continue reading

Kyonki tu thodi pagal h.. Teri roshni thodi alag h..
Nyaari h…
Par woh Jo khilkhilati hasi h na..
Woh bht pyaari h.
Kyonki tu thodi pagal h..
Shama teri shama sI ni dikhti …
Muskurahton m chupa karti h.
Kyonki tu thodi pagal h…
Aur m banwari .. Isliye kaha karti hun..
Humari baatein kuch atpati si hain,
Hume ‘kuch’ samjhta h aur ‘bht’ ni.
Par hum khush reh lete hain.
Kya h ki, Hume kuch aur aata ni.
Alag aqele…bikhre tukde m taira karti thi main.
Kuch samajh..zyada nasamajh si.
Par Kyonki tu pagal h.main Tujhse takra gayi.
Aur tab se ye meethi meethi baatein bhaa gayi.
Kyonki tu paagal h
Aur m banwari..
Hume ye zindagi kuch aur haseen pal lauta gayi.

…pearl…

Brain Teaser

I don’t only say what is on my mind. I also do it. Usually. Also, am told I have a shit load of crap in that tiny little brain of mine. But then, you see.. I don’t really care about what is said about me or for that matter what is said to me. I am selfish. And I practice the delicate art of saying doing and screaming in the spur of the moment. Impulsive, they call me.
Sometimes, when its dark, and I alone. I reel back. Although, I hate it! But my brain doesn’t seem to belong to me en. It reels on its own. And it aches me into believing that what I did, said or screamed about must have hurt someone. Well, maybe. It did. But then I said, did or screamed cause my brain tricked me into believing that I was hurt or played for and what I am saying, doing or screaming about, is correct. True. Fair.
vector-of-a-cartoon-boy-with-a-blasting-brain-coloring-page-outline-by-ron-leishman-17307
“It isn’t. Now.” My mind says in the lull of the night. #@!%. Talk about change of mind.
How can things be right then and not now?
Its not crafty. So it doesn’t know to meander its way out of situations. Straight- forward is for the boring. So my mind is also boring. I try to tame it. Discipline it. Control it. But I am told..that which is, will remain. It doesn’t change much (or rather ‘Grow’). Equilibrium. But then again as I said, before, “I don’t really care about what is said about me or for that matter what is said to me.” So I work on it every day..mostly night rather. When I am most anxious.
It’s quite sometimes. And I’d like to keep it that way. I like to think it is simple. But it’s simply NOT. It’s simply, foolish. Therefore, I am foolish.

It hurts itself trying to protect itself. How incredibly moronic!
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