THE INK AND THE PAPER

But this time, I won’t let you

 color my scars again; For,

You are the ink and You are not

 supposed see the paper’s pain.

You’re not supposed to see the paper’s pain.

Like those disclaimers before the movies, I thought my life also bears no resemblance with others, just a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person is a pure coincidence. But the paper proved me wrong. The letters scribble on it mocked at me when I told them my story. And then I realized you were the ink to my papers. 

You came to me like a summer breeze , hot ,warm and making me restless. Your presence was something I have always feared. But slowly, as the summer turned into rains, and it started to drizzle, you showered me with your attention, love and care. And I started dreaming about your touch. Gone were those hostility and those ignorance. You made me come in terms of my past and made me spoon the threads of a beautiful dream. 

You know, we all are like these white papers. Everything leaves an impression. A dot, a line , a tangled mess of doodles, a tear drop or any stain, everything leaves an impression. Even some deep stretched wound of those who are close to us, leaves a mark. Still the paper remains white. Bearing all those scars on its soul, it craves for the ink which would see beyond the white of its heart. You were like that ink to me, Which poured itself empty on me and covered all those scars, with the color of its being. 

Sometimes I do wonder, Does a blank paper matters to ink , as much as the ink matters to it?. I often wonder, Does the ink feel proud to leave its permanent imprints on the heart of papers? Or its just another notch in its belt!? . Does it craves to touch that used sheet of paper, as much as the paper wants to be kissed again.!? Does the colorful ink ever gets intrigued by the blankness of the sheet!? I often wonder, does it know , how much it matters to the paper to bear it’s marks for the rest of it’s life!

 Unfortunately,no one asked the ink about it. Had they asked a new piece of paper could have refrained itself from falling in love with the ink. That’s the fault with the readers. They never ask. They only trust the ink. Had they known the deceptive nature of the ink, they could have tried to listen those suppressed sobs of the papers. The cries which still echos in the spaces between two words, the echoes which could be heard in the untouched parts between the lines.They could have seen the unrequited love which remains hidden in the commas and semicolons. And could have felt the torments of heartache which are witnessed by the periods and full stops. Had they known they could have stopped the ink from scribbling more and more poems on papers and in return stealing away bits and pieces of the innocence of the page. But unfortunately, no one ever asked, nor they have ever tried to hear.

You know. That’s why I blamed me, the people around me and you for what had happened between us. The way you touched me to the core, the way you drenched my heart with your tears and the way you made me fall in love with the protagonists of your stories. The way you kept on writing poems and stories about Us and the way you kept on Scribbling the lessons from the past. And the way you vanished from my life, without any bye, without saying anything had  left me craving for more . But no one ever cared. Not even  you! You’re supposed to steal my scars, you were supposed to color me with your kisses. I was supposed to take all the burden away from your heart. I was supposed to soak those tears of your bleeding heart. We both did our job. But in between I fell in love and you didn’t. Or was it like you said that you fell in love and left me waiting for you forever!? Had I known I wasn’t sufficient, I would have saved my self for someone else. For someone who after caressing me, wouldn’t have left me . Now see, I’m everything but blank . You will never come back to me. But someone will. Someone will come back and read me again and again. Someone will take me in hands caress those wounds given by you.He will be intoxicated by the way I smell, but would never know I have drowned myself in the aroma of yours.  Someone will fall in love with me. But he would never know me the way you did. He could never leave an impact on me the way you did. He would fall in love ; But not with me. He will fall in love with the girl you left behind. 

Time would change. The white of the paper would gradually turn into yellow. But the marks on it would still glow in pride. The words signed by the ink wouldn’t fade away. Time could not heal these wounds of the paper, it can only make it grow older with it. After some days, the corners would be tattered , but still those inks would matter. Those words, those wounds now define the paper. The scars she was trying to hide would now become her identity. May be the ink would return to it, after realizing it’s worth, but it wouldn’t be the same old blank sheet, naive and eager. The ink might try to reunite with it again, but that would only deepen the wounds, stealing away all the beauty of those scars. Now the paper knows, the ink and the paper were star crossed lover, for one has to die if they wish to remain together . 
I would not try to make you come back, but I’ll wait for you. Wait for the day when you will come back and see how you had helped me grow. How those small bits of your heart has now become the Alma matter of my survival. I would like to see that pride in your eyes, in the same time want to see that helplessness of not being able to touch me again. If you ever decide to come back, you will find me the way you left me, but what you couldn’t figure out would be the way I will flaunt my scars. For , I have learnt to believe in the power of being broken . For Now I believe in Scars being beautiful. 

I have crumpled myself. Tried to burn myself. I have leapt in to the ocean and I have flown into The hurricane, but no one had been able to erase those imprints. So I decided to flaunt them. I’m not going to tell them to you, coz you could never notice. Like a paper I haven’t been granted the power to pour my heart out. You are the ink, you are the one to speak. I was the one to get drenched and I’m still getting drenched. I’m yet to make people believe,that it’s not me but you. For the first time when I was drenched, it was raining blood from your heart. Now when I make people cry, I rejoice those tears, thinking it to be you. I’m living in these stolen moments, when people believe it’s my story and offer their condolences.

 But you know, I wish someday, they could see it all along. I wish they see the resemblance between the lies told by the ink and see the helplessness of the papers. In the same time I wish for you to see me, smiling and living without you in those stolen moments of yours. I don’t want you to see how much I have suffered. If you wish to come back, come n see how much you had mattered.

If you ever comeback,

I’ll be here waiting for you. 

With Those voids and some wounds too.

But this time, I won’t let you

 color my scars again; For,

You are the ink and You are not

 supposed see the paper’s pain.

You’re not supposed to see the paper’s pain.

🎭Nayana🎭

Just Another Phase…

But you will be treasured for life.

A/N – This is for all the people out there who have had either, numerous people to crush for or just one. Every single person goes through these feelings, sometimes it is lost, sometimes we are lost but all we keep with ourselves is memories.
And if it resembles any of your phases of lives it’s just a coincidence, this isn’t intended to hurt or showcase anyone’s personal feeling .

Happy Reading folks!

Waking up every morning, before rubbing my eyes open to the little notes of musings stuck on the wall of my room, I think and hope of meeting you and brightening my day manifolds.

With eyes closed I think of the encounter we had the day before. No exchange of words, no smiles passed, no tales attached either. Just a glance of you working as I walk past your workspace. That’s where everything started, started in my world to which you will remain forever oblivious.

Watching you engrossed in your work was the first thing I was hooked to in this place unknown.

One place, one crush.

This norm of mine didn’t even seek the need to be reminded of. In this crowd, the only face which made sense and I looked forward to was yours.

People fall for people who were meant to be just attractions.

I didn’t.

I didn’t fall for you, because I knew that the pure heart of yours had already got someone to nurture and love. All you meant to me was the light in the times of dark.

A single mention of your name, one look at your face and the bad day was already running for a cover.

There have been days when I have run errands just to have one glance of your hair, your hand, even your shirt. But it’s funny how in the times of crisis I never got to see you but again you have arrived during moments I least expected.

Years passed, more like in a blink of an eye, but now as this phase of life comes to a closure besides several other memories you and your workspace will turn into memories too.

There won’t be the same me zooming in and out of your work place looking for you. Tagging my friends along just to ensure I don’t get caught red handed looking and drooling over you.

There won’t be the same me getting teased in your name as I disclose “the name” to my friends. There won’t be the same me scrolling through the pictures of your good old days.

But one thing will remain unchanged, you will still be the light to my dark days. You are still going to be the reason for my laughter and smile when I will look back and search for the best of memories.

You will still be around but I will be long gone.

Gone to a different place and following the norm getting a new someone to crush for

… but you will be treasured for life.

~ Smaranika Dash

KEEPER OF THE MEMORIES…

A/N- This thing is pure imagination any relevance of one’s personal life to the story is sheer coincidence and maybe you could thank me for writing it up for the world to read.

Happy Reading folks! 

 

Sitting by the window she watched the sky grow dark as the nimbuses gathered. The soft pitter-patter of the rain was audible as the drops fell on the leaves, beautifying it with every drop. As a drop raced down the windowpane, she smiled to herself and hurried to her shelf.

Sarah picked up the hardcover at the end of the shelf, dusted it and returned to sit by the window. She crossed her legs, ran her hand across the cover of the photo album, “Alma de la casa.” As she went through some of the pictures one particular photo held her attention, that was the last photo of them clicked together and below “Amigos Para Siempre” was scribbled.

A thousand thoughts and memories shuffled through her brain and arrested on the day when he held her hand and they just walked around because that was the only thing she loved which slowly transformed to the first time she went on a bike ride with him, he tried to maintain the speed limit as he was asked to but looking at her sullen face he pushed the limits and let her experience how it feels to talk to the wind. From their fights on who will get the bigger slice of pizza to her apologizing him for pulling his hair and hitting him in the process, to the day when she got bored at social parties because her partner in crime was busy attending his, to him photo-bombing her graduation ceremony photos, to sneaking into the kitchen quietly and having a look at the fridge for any desserts left, to proudly celebrating his success, to hugging him for the last time before leaving for the airport and adjuring him not to leave, to bidding him the final adieu at the airport. How she wished for the time to stop right then and there, but alas! She looked on as he hurried in, how he didn’t even look back once because she knew if he did he will never be able to board the flight and travel to his dreamland.

As the chain of thoughts ended, tears rolled down her cheeks, wiping them away she muttered to herself “It will be the last time I see you guys, for a while now.” The rain had stopped and there was this broad daylight, sun peeking behind the skyscrapers. As the clock struck 2, she realized she was already fifteen minutes late and in the meantime, a  message pinged, “5 years have passed and here you are late as usual. Be quick. Waiting. :D” She collected the car keys and drove away.

The photo album smiled to itself, Sarah wasn’t the one who waited this long. He did his waiting 5 years of it, to fill him with the memories of Sarah and Lucas. The empty pockets in the album were a proof of his waiting but not anymore. Soon the 2016 pockets will get filled probably making up for the voids of the past five years. The album was rightfully named “Alma de la casa”, THE SOUL OF THE HOUSE. It contained all the memories and lifetime events of Sarah and Lucas. It was never HOME without them, those waves of laughter and those fights, cursing each other and yet apologizing if they were rude to one another. It was a long wait for a sister to meet the most special person in her life, her SUPERHE… oops, BROTHER. And the album patiently waited for the sibling duo to breathe in some soul to it.

PS- Before Lucas left for the airport he told Sarah,

“ You know how I always wanted to be a SUPERHERO but I realized being a BROTHER is even better than being a Superhero.”

~Smaranika Dash