Musing

He is like the sudden rain in winter. When all the living things wear the scarf of grey, when green becomes snowy and tenderness disappear, rain sprinkles life to dry surface welcoming a further session of shriller phase. Likely when the hope almost dries up and petals of memories get crunched as I take a walk towards the past, in that dessert of seclusion when things start freezing he appears like the blissful rain which pours the heart with hope and verve to live it again to tackle the upcoming dreadful phase. That's he! Healer yet harmful. 

It's often said that heart-break, emotional trauma, past related issues and even the ultimate depression leads you to that extent where you start penning down your thoughts; at times in a fictional way or else in a very bold non-fictional way. But is that so? Is it always about the pain and loss? What about the rage within regarding other major issues? Ain't that big enough to challenge the potential within?  I was asked often the reason behind all the love-tales and often about the tragic end. Some tagged it as a result of some failed relationship while others tagged it as a mere imagination. Well, trust me it's neither of it.  It's like you're given the entire world and you have your one lifetime to make it alive as a whole using your words. The urge to pen down things happening in and outside is the muse that ignites the zeal within to put it all together with a pinch of illusion and lots of experiences throughout the days of your life. And th...

Thousands of thoughts rattled in the mind as the dawn clung and darkness fell. Shadowy afternoon bid goodbye leaving the husky sky behind to scroll over the lush patches.  A gesture so pleasant to fall for, a hug too warm to melt with, a smile too deep to dive in, a hush too dark to lost within, a truth too profound to live for.  The sharp wind shook the immutable peace to tickle the silent kid inside, vanished in some eternal sleep since ages. The winter does have its sunny side, so does life have. What is awaited is the arrival of the right moment. While the scorching cold outside was torturing the delicate skin, drying it up; the submission moisturized it to sooth it. Unlike, the squashy green carpet, our love is that frozen floor of winter which sparks throughout, chilling the blood running through veins. The morning arrived with its dusty shine to melt the icy cold silence as hearts gave up on each other's renderings. November that was, as the warmth left w...

Love is like the touch of first sunbeam on earth. Just like how the dew drops kiss the lush green, the essence of love kiss the soul first, caressing the ever-beating heart. Those free wings flattering in the sky while thousand of hope lay behind lifelessly on the ground, there's where love resides.  After a frosty winter when spring comes with its warm touch to melt the icy cold, in that melting season love blossoms spreading the colors of unique shades.  When a dandelion peeps out from the cracked ground spreading its tiny wings, full of life, that's the power of love; it grows from the broken parts moisturizing the scars with its ever healing perfume. Its presence not only soothes like the humming tune of cuckoo but also repairs the wounded like the gentle touch of Spring.  The fear of dark haunts in the darkest of nights. But when you start inhaling it with that blissful sight of the placid moon and jingling stars; there where love evolves, away from...

Morning hues with a shade of husky grey knocked the door as the sun was still under the quilt and the fog prevailed. The chirps were long heard since the idle season has arrived in its full swing. By the time the sparkling rays were kissing the crooked plants, the wings started flapping to take the flight fighting against the thick air. While the blossoms shredded the dreams with its knock, winter still held on to its shrouded beauty in the scattered leaves. With the glowing sun, a little dull, the air took an itchy swing to blow away the left over warmth of Autumn. It's the beginning of the husk. December it is. 

When you will step into this city, the fragrance in the air will remind you of me. The same air which we inhaled together. The essence of togetherness, the absence of my warmth will remind you of me. When the chilly breeze will collide on the closed window glass of the car, the hum inside will remind you of my rattling words. The shrill in the passing breeze will remind you of my laughter. When you will pass by those empty lanes and dusky roads, the foggy way will remind you of my sudden disappearance to tease you a little more. As the dawn will approach, the silent buzz of dark will remind you of those familiar tunes that I keep humming. The solitary retreat will be my shadow for you. In the crowd when you will walk through the city every face will remind you of your willingness to see me once. Their presence will be overpowered by my absence. With your every step away from the city your heart will long to hear me amidst those continuous chirps around. The wish to see m...