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

Le Papillon

वो सच्चा था , तोह उसका वजूद झूठा कैसे!!?
वो लम्हे एक ख्वाब थे, तोह मेरी ज़िन्दगी एक हक़ीक़त कैसे ?

(If he was true, how come his existence is a lie? If those moments were mere a dream , then how come my life is a reality??)

08/02/2016:

I think I saw you today. U haven’t changed a bit. The same hairstyle and the same blue American tourister bag. But no, I was wrong. It wasn’t you. You were like that breeze of Monsoon which brings a lot of lighting and thunders with it. It was Someone else. A student from the student exchange programme. He had a slight physical resemblance with you. N that slightest of resemblance was enough to evoke a whirlwind of memories. He wore a crisp black button down shirt with a pair of grey jeans, a stark contrast to your pull over and khaki pants. He was so opposite of you,yet so similar . He reminded me so much of you that its hard to decide, whether his entry was a blessing or curse!
15/02/2016

I was in the cafeteria standing in a line. A sudden commotion outside caught my attention. Upon peeping a little , I saw my cousin punching someone in the guts. Without thinking anything I handed over my token to the friend beside me and hurried to the scene. The matter was out of the hand and they were summoned to the Dean’s chamber. After a lot of pleading and writing an undertaking they let him go without any severe punishment. I forgot my class and went straight to the cafeteria. As I stood in the line to take another token for breakfast, someone gently patted my shoulder. It turned out that in a rush I had thrust the token into his hand , and he watching me run in such an hurry had bought my breakfast. Silently I took my plate and muttered an inaudible thank you n turned away.

16/02/2016
I know it was rude. But what could I do. I was so determined to hate him and he was making it difficult. I saw him again today. This time in an heated argument with the librarian. God! He had a temper. Upon asking the librarian , I got to know he wanted to issue an book but since he didn’t have any card he can’t burrow it. He said , he needed that book to complete the assignment. Thinking to return the favor I issued the book under my name and gave him .

26/02/2016

It had been 10 days. I saw him daily in the library. Daily in something dark colour and reading some book. I knew he could keep that book for a month . So I was determined not to bump into him before the end of the month. I deliberately avoided him as much as possible.

02/03/2016

It was a fine day. A light rain in the morning and slow soothing breezes had done wonders to my soul. Rather than taking the scooty I decided to hit the road with my foot. It had been so long since I had walked to the campus. As usual there were students practicing their usual sketing routine, perfecting their dance moves, and discussing god knows what. Suddenly my gaze halted on a sketch. It was an oil painting. Someone was finishing the oil paint of two hands. Where both of them were clinging the opposite ends of an old book .Though I couldn’t say were the hands approaching each other or they belonged to two departing souls. It had a medival charm to it. The hands in the focus and the background has black colour with a stroke of red to highlight the mystery.What intrigued me was the lower hand . It belonged to a girl. It wore silvery bangles. And a bracelet having a little butterfly. But there was a mole on the knuckles. Exactly where I have a similar black mole. The painter had his back towards me. But I didn’t need to see his face to know who he was. His stiff back , broad shoulder and the hairstyle reminded too much of you.

08/03/2016:

He was popular among girls. Not as much as u, but I think his deep black eyes, strong sets of jaws and deep set dimples and his aversion towards girls gave him the impression of mysterious guy. He was a good student. Very good I must say. I’m saying this today cause he beat me in the online quiz contest. N I was unbeatable since the day of my joining. To my surprise all my friends wished to congratulate him. And my bestie couldn’t stop describing how he took some time to talk to her. It seems the whole college was dead set on making him some kind of celebrity.

11/03/2016

He was there in the entrance of the library. I thought of going to the cafeteria . But before I could change my mind the librarian called my name. He handed me the book and said thank you. I returned it to the librarian and turned towards the cafeteria. He caught up with me and started walking with me. I excused my self in the way and went to the girls room.

15/03/2016.

Now that he had returned my book , there was no point in meeting each other. But he was there, silently reading in the library or engaged in some heating argument or somewhere just sitting silently and looking down at the pond. Now that he had started mixing up, my friends seemed to mention him in every thing. Ishaan(that’s his name) is this, Ishaan is that, Ishaan said this, Ishaan liked that and blah blah blah..

Why!! Why is it like that??! I was supposed to hate him.why I’m listing to these talks? Why I’m marking his every datail. Why my heart skips a beat when I see him.??

From tomorrow onwards I would make sure not to cross his path.

25/03/2016

It was the last day for submitting entries for the college magazine. We, the team of editors had to sit down n go through every entry. we read. I love reading . So I was shifted to another world. Some one called for the attention N had to descend back to the ground.

Let me show you what you are.

For once look into my eyes

I promise you would see

the deepest desires

and some night mares may be,

You are that whisk of wind

which made a flame out of flicker

Now let me blow you away

In a direction that I chose for u to fly.

A speck of pain in the pleasure,

You are the scintilla

My dark soul desires.

When in the mid night

My lust for Selene overwhelms,

What craves inside my chest

Is to behold a pearl like you

in me, and to let

the rain drops drench the fire.

That rain drop on your eye brows

When descends down to the lips

Making it’s way through the cheeks

The flames again

Take me into their embrace ,

How I wish to lick those drops

And wonder would they taste like

The rain or the rose

or just like yours?

Not a classic piece of art you are,
Too mysterious for that.

You are a blend of colours

Mixing with others,

Yet brusting out as a fire.

You are my modern art

For some easy to understand

But what lies beneath the mask

Is only for me to unearth.

When in those late night

I lay bare my heart to the canvas

Those reflections of

yours under the moon

Hit me hard ,

And push me to make you mine

In those deep dark

mixture of colours and

To paint your cheek

With a rose red glare.

On the canvas when

I let the colors flow

And frame that lovely shape of yours

How I wish to color you by myself

And mark my signature there!

And wonder would it make sense to

Link our hands or our desires

Or our names or our souls??

Let me make love to

You in my own ways.

Let me make you mine

And never fade away.

Trust me for once I’m a

Life time kind of guy

Drench the fire in me

with your serenity and

Give your desires a wing to fly

.

The problem was it was too beautiful to discard yet too bold to be published. There was an heated argument. I was dead set on publishing the poem. We argued and finally it was decided that we would vote. We were only two people in favor of this. But we decided to use our vitto and pressurized others to select that.

28/03/2016

I opened my social networking account after a long time. Ignored all the 56 notifications. Ignored all those friend requests and went straight to stalker mode. Opened your profile. As usual you have uploaded loads of pics and many of them had beautiful faces in it. Some I knew and some I didn’t. I searched every girls account who had been tagged or had commented. But to no avail. I was still not sure if you are single or have been committed lately.

In a distrust state I logged out.
11/04/2016.

I was in the library, deeply engrossed in a romantic classic. I heard someone dragging the chair in front of me . Out of curiosity when I spared him a glance , I was looking into two deep brown set of eyes. His eyes were not exactly black like yours, they are brown at the outer side and gain deeper color towards the inner side. I found myself binded by those hypnotic eyes. He sat down and slided our college magazine towards me and pinned me under his gaze until I averted mine.

Silently I took the magazine and skipped through the pages to find that poem, and when I found it the under signed name was Ishan Roy . I looked at him and found myself burning under those intense stare. Then he asked “WHY” first silently , then again rephrasing and controlling his temper , “Why Meghna , Why?. In the past month you have been avoiding me like plague, and suddenly you were against the whole pannel for me. You didn’t even accept my friend request and here you are offering me favours over favours . You are a brilliant student.look at you! You are a piece of art. You have everything going for a girl. Smart, beautiful,intelligent, and what not.I have been unable to erase our little moments from my memory. And I have been inquiring every one about you,stalking you and what not. Hell I have been crazy enough to write poems. I have never been this desperate , n I must admit no one have ever avoided me the way you are doing now. Do u know how it feels.!?” With that he took a deep breath and continued” Thank you. Thank you for helping me. And if my presence troubles you that much , I promise I would never let you complain again. Perhaps I was stupid enough to wave dreams about us.”
With that he stood and walked away. I had a sudden urge to cry. It felt more like a stab of knife in the heart . I didn’t know when along with those stolen glances, silent eye contacts, those oil paints and this poem I was loosing bits and pieces of mine to him. Thats not it, I was also loosing some pieces of your memories too. N what had he said “Do I know how it feels?”

I wanted to scream , “Yes Ishaan, Yes I know how it feels to love someone, to do everything in your power for that person and to never have them reciprocated , or else to notice. I know Ishaan how it feels to see your dream shatter, I know how it feels to get hurt every night and yet to repeat all those things in the morning. I know more than you would ever know. And when I’m telling you believe me , I know . ”
But that was not my style . That had never been. I sat there like a statue and broke down silently. History repeated it self. The same library, the same date, the same me and heart break.

He forced me to take a difficult walk In the deserted memory lane …

17/05/2012
Our 10th board results were out. I was on the cloud nine. 96.7%!! It was more than I have ever dreamt of. Every one was happy.

I ran to your house. You came out laughing and hugged me tight. Yeah we did it Meghna we did it. You told me you got 95%. We took admission in one of the most prestigious junior college of our state.

12/06/2012

New Class and New school . I was afraid to death. But you were the confidence I never had on me. You told me in your casual manner there is nothing to fear when Rishav is there . I smiled , a small disheartened smile. You always had that power over me. You were the only one who could make me smile at any moment.

11/08/2012:
You were always crowded . You were an instant hit in the girls and a good mate in the boys. I was too busy in my studies to get noticed by anyone else. I felt like the distance between us had been increased. Actually thats not the way it was. We were exactly where we were before, but the space in between us had been crowded. But you always did find a way to reach me. Those little talks over our route to hostel, those small small gestures in each other’s special days, made me see you in some special light.

24/06/2014:

We both have qualified the entrance. I was more than happy. But when I went to you I saw you were already boozing with your mates. It hurt Rishav. More than I would ever care to admit . I didn’t know the reason though, It was a tie. I was torn between what to be worried first, that you were descending down to the path of self destruction or you put someone , before me, for the first time. Absent mindedly I found excuses to cover up your deeds.

25/06/2014

You called me . You sounded angry. You said I had started avoiding you. That you have waited for my call till 2 in the morning. May be u had. May be I did matter to you. But I was still disappointed. I didn’t feel like telling you. I just smiled. But to my amazement you said , I didn’t seem happy. I don’t know how you cold read me so right. I asked how, then u said “Idiot Meghna look at your balcony”. There you were , standing in your white pull over and deep green khaki, with as usual ruffled hair and that mischievous gleam in your eyes. I was dazed. You came over and pulled me into a hug. Like a putty I melted against you. I asked about yesterday. You mentioned partying with your friends. But that didn’t involve any description of girls in half drugged state , or boys putting shame to every sane man with their rich vocabulary. I thought you were enjoying in your style and didn’t want me to go into the paranoid state.

11/08/2014
It was the fresher’s day. We have been asked to wear Saree, n you have been order to wear kurta Punjabi. You were looking like a model in your deep green and golden kurta.

Seniors asked you to propose someone. You came to me and went on one knees, took my hand, kissed my knuckles exactly at the black mole and asked me to come to the dance floor. Before I could realize my heart was stolen by you. I didn’t knew whether it was The golden saree or the spot light or those slow romantic songs,or your touch made all my walls break and gave you full access.
Later that night I watched you getting high and being all cosy with other girls. I was like no one . You didn’t even acknowledge my presence . While dropping me off u asked me not to get bothered by tonight. I didn’t knew if it was for the proposal or the other things.

25/02/2015
A lot has been changed in these days. Our circle, our interests , our defination of enjoyment and perhaps the way we view people. But one thing was constant ,my love for you and your care for me. Days have passed by, I have grown to be nerdier , you have grown to be cooler , we still talk , we still study together , we still fight with each other and still fight for each other. That day in the cafeteria you have beaten the shit out of the guy who had commented on me. That gesture was sweet, but I don’t know why do I search for the old rishav who would have made the guy apologize me through his witty retorts.

18/03/2015

Now It seems you don’t find it comfortable to talk to me in front of your friends. I understand your dellema, I’m from the group of girls who burry themselves deep in the book, does all those stuffs In the library, teachers pet type, and you were one of those for whom every thing comes easy. But I didn’t complaint. I was more than happy with our study sessions, with our weekend trips, long drives everything. I loved you that much. I still do, it’s just that I was not happy with what I’m getting. May be love makes us greedy, may be I was being unreasonable. But what about instincts? I could notice your diversion of paths whenever you see me, I could feel your apprehensiveness when we talk in public, I could feel it to my skin. And as per your wish I started to melt down into the shadows. I started stalking you. I noticed my comments getting no replies on your posts. Unfortunately we , those who remain in the shadow have an ability to hear the untold, to look beyond the covers and to read spaces between the words.

11/04/2015
I was in the library , I watched you going with your friends to collect some books. I followed you and sat behind you. I heard you being accepted for the foreign exchange program. You showed him the letter which had arrived a week before. I couldn’t belive u hadn’t Informed me. I couldn’t control anymore. I went to him and sat. His friend took his farewell . I asked “Why!” Then controlling my voice , “Why Rishav, I was okay with being in the shadow , I was okay with not meddling with your life.I was okay seeing you flirt with other girls. I was okay with our weekly day outs. I was okay cause o thought everything between us is okay. I thought I ment something to you. You are leaving the country yet you didn’t bother telling me”

You replied in an aloofed voice , I hadn’t told anyone. Not even my family. I was going to break that in our dinner . And common Meghna, don’t be so naive. We are not in a relationship, I’m not answerable to you.”

Though he uttered those words with his playful smile, they stung me in those places which I never knew existed.

In an attempt to hide my tears I stood up. You held my hand . For the first time in months you asked me to stay. But The noise of my screaming heart was more powerful than your pleas . I looked at the book in my hand and read out the quote aloud.

“When you are

a bit less blinded,

Am a bit less naive.

When you know

what being sensitive means

and I have mended my ways

with maturity,

We would sit up all night and talk

Perhaps would talk the whole day along

That’s a promise

I would trade my heart to keep

But until then ,my friend,

(Let me love you and live.)
I couldn’t complete the quote and rushed out. I broke down .

11/04/2016

Calenders has changed. People has changed . My life has changed. Yet time has brought me again to the place from where I had started .
Rishav or Ishaan , two sides of a coin , completely different yet so alike . I wish there Was something in-between in the tossing of coins, for I couldn’t care more who wins the toss ,but in the end Its the coin.It has to live with both the results.

12/04/2016

I have to be honest with him. Atleast he deserves that. But to my surprise he didn’t even turn up at the college. Why is it like that, we miss a person when he is not around, and all we do in his presence is to lurk in the shadows.

24/04/2016

He was at the pond. Looking down at the water . Throwing stones into it. He was throwing stones, and then waiting for the ripples to die down and then again throwing one into the water. I waited for some time. Then I took a stone and threw it , breaking his presence pattern . He muttered a curse and looked at me. I went to sit beside him. He stood up, but I caught his hand and made him sit down. This time I started the pattern . He just looked on.
“I love someone, else.”

“So?”

“I can’t love you”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Both”

“You are lying”

I looked at him perplexed and he continued,

“I know about Rishav”
He never ceases to surprise me
“I can tell you that you were in love with the idea of him , not with him.”
I smirked and started the stone game again.
No one would ever understand my love, my wait, my crave for Rishav. May be what Ishaan knows about Rishav is enough for him to judge my love , but what he didn’t know was we had a history of 10 years to back us up. The girl He is in love with is Rishav’s undoing. Rishav was the confidence I never had on me. May be in later years their equation has changed, but in the end they are the variables needed to make an equation. Like an one dimensional point has no equation, I was dimensionless without Rishav.

I stood up to go. Ishaan let me. He threw a stone, without waiting then the threw another, then other and other.
When I turned my back he said silently, He might come back, he might get around and love you back , but tell me one thing Meghna, can you forget all those shadows and dark hours you put together to have a single glance of him? Can you get past all those avoidance which made you doubt yourself!? I hope you could. I sincerely do. Cause if not, you would be burdened down by the consequences of your choice.
Once again I was wrong. This time not about you, this time it was him. It seems he could see into my fears , my insecurities and my love.

02/01/2017

Soon it was time for Him to board the train back to his home. Sitting by his side had become a daily routine now. He understands the ripples between the water, he understands the stones on the path, he understands the wrinkles on the forehead, he understands the gap between the stanzas.
He still painted. He painted water, he painted smoke, he painted fire , he painted lilies, he painted daisies, but in the middle he never forget to paint butterflies.
He still wrote poems, he wrote about desires, he wrote about love, he wrote about souls, he wrote about bodies, he wrote about flowers, he wrote about pearls but In some stanzas he a always used colors.
To day I got a mail from you, telling how much we have to cover on your arrival which was just 2 days after his departure.
Perhaps this was the moment of oblivion. I felt a brust of two opposite emotions at a time, yet none of them were potential enough to make me smile or make me cry. I just sighed. Perhaps thats what happens with a coin . It has to carry on. Perhaps thats what life is all about. A cocktail of emotions and a deep sigh .

30/01/2017

Ishaan and I were sitting on a bench on the platform.
“So”

“So?”

“He is coming, then”

“Yeah,he is”

“And I’m going”

“No, You are not”

“What!! I can’t get a refund now”
(We both new what you actually meant. I smirked at his attempt to make it easy, but good byes are never easy. Are they?? You keep telling me there is something good in every goodbye. May be there is. But there is also a bye in it.)
I said, “Oh come on, we would be in touch”

He just got up and stood. I dragged his hand, but unlike last time, he dragged me up.
Keeping my hand in his , he started saying the lines
“One day

One day we would talk ,

We would talk the whole day and

Perhaps all the night along,

But I then my friend

I wish you would be a little selfish

And I would be more persistent

When there would be no Rishav to wait for

And only we have met a life time before.

One day in another life, in another world, I would wait for

It’s a promise, I would trade my soul to keep

With each line he took a step away. And with each step he took a part of mine

His train left. I watched him dissolving into the smoke. I listened him voicing the unsaid. I felt him cutting my soul and taking a half with him. That moment I felt like the Meghna I had built over the past one year, in the absence of Rishav. I was back to square one , with only the part that had loved Rishav. Known only Rishav . But what to do with the time, the memories on which he had left an colored imprint of his bare soul.

01/02/2017
I was at the platform waiting for Rishav. But my fingers were fumbling with 10 digits, which every time dialed responded with “the no. doesn’t exist anymore”.

There was no trace of his social networking account. There was no address in the College profile, other than his college name. I had asked a lot of students from his college,but none had given me any solid information. Like he doesn’t exist. Like he was some one from the smoke and melted into it.
Rishav got out of the train and hugged me tight. And with a sound kiss on my forehead told me he had missed me.

08/02/2017

I hadn’t told Rishav anything about Ishaan. And surprisingly enough no one had never took his name in front of Rishav, like no one ever talked about Rishav in front of Ishaan.

Rishav Took me to his home. And his mother made us sit together. He now proudly introduces me to everyone as his fiancé.
Life is fine. But oddly enough Rishav had gift me a charm bracelet having butterflies on it.
It reminds me of me,of him and of you. It tells me as beautiful as a butterfly may be, it never stays caged. It reminds me every ugly duckling, insecure caterpillar has a beautiful future and every beautiful butterfly has an ugly past. It reminds me of the colors life had to offer. It reminds me how fast the colors change. It reminds to live in the moment. It reminds me never to forget him.

“वो सच्चा था , तोह उसका वजूद झूठा कैसे!!?
वो लम्हे महज एक ख्वाब थे, तो मेरी ज़िंदगानी एक हक़ीक़त कैसे?”

(If he was true, how come his existence is a lie? If those moments were mere a dream , then how come my life is a reality??)

🎭Nayana🎭

The Missing Strings 

… How much even you try life always comes with some Missing Strings.”

A/N – Anyone’s resemblance of their real life is mere coincidence, it hasn’t been targeted to anyone’s personal life. Something for a light reading and something which might make us realize the importance of relations in our real life.                   

As I stand in front of the mirror, by the side of the most beautiful woman of my life cladded in maroon lehenga adorned with some beautiful golden zari works and with the slightest hint of makeup, tears filling up my eyes I wish she could see me. To me, both of us are standing in front of the mirror but to her, it was just her. I am as much visible to anyone as love, it exists but no one has seen it. Today is the most special day of her life and yet the tears of unhappiness color my face. I hear footsteps nearing the bridal room and as a matter of habit, I turn to hide behind the curtain, as I always did, just to realize that I can’t be seen. Her mother enters and waves her hand over her face, as a part of the belief to keep her safe and healthy, and hugs her tightly. Before leaving she looked around and whispered into the thin air, “How I wish he was there! “. I heard. My heart wrenched, I wanted to shout out aloud, wanted to scream so loud that people could hear me out, but.

The gorgeous bridesmaids arrived and took her with them to the mandap, for the rituals to begin. I was standing by the pillar witnessing every ritual. With the beginning of each ritual I had a feeling of my heart skipping a beat, every beat made me feel how distanced and detached I am from her. The part of the rituals which hurt me the most was when her mother offered her hand to the groom, entrusting her daughter to the groom, symbolizing the couple’s love and taking vows to be with each other forever.  How I wish it was my hand there. As the rituals were nearing their closure  SHE was becoming HIS forever. This time around tears did roll down from both of our eyes. The difference was, hers were for leaving behind her world and entering a new one with her love of life while mine for already letting go of someone I have lost forever.

The last of the rituals was the “Bidaai”, while she was clinging to her near ones I stood there silently crying and taking in the power and strength of the moment. After hugging and weeping hard against the shoulders of her mother she paused for a moment as if reliving her past and cried even more. I knew who it was for. I was the person missing from the entire event. She was missing the first man in her life, she is missing me.

“Papa” she breathed! My heart broke into pieces. Even if I wanted to I couldn’t go near her, couldn’t hold her in my arms. This was the very first time I cursed my death. My daughter is crying for me and I am not there for her. All this happened in a flash of a second and then Nitin came in, “It’s okay Nivi, I am there for you!”

“I know you will be there for her, in every step of her life from now on. You shall be her protector, you won’t leave any leaf unturned to make her happy but my dear boy there are times when she will need her papa! And I will never be able to reach her. This is what saddens me, this is the worst part for not being there for your loved ones. How much even you try life always comes with some Missing Strings.” and these words remained unheard. With one last glimpse of the house, she got into the car. As the car left I kept on looking until it faded away and all I was staring at was a dark endless road.

~Smaranika Dash

La Pluie

I smiled and I cried. I smiled over my fate, I cried over the death of my beautifully woven dreams . I smiled that finally I got to touch her; I cried that I couldn’t get to talk to her. Smiling, crying, sobbing I remained there, Taking in all the scenes and remenscing about my life.

The Sun was playing hide and seek with the clouds. Clouds that were hovering over my head like dark monsters. It could rain anytime. I thought I have to rush, or else I would be dripping wet from the down pour. 
At the distance the bell rung. Students claded in uniform ran outside the gate. And to my bad luck it started raining. I ignored the impact on me. The sight infront of me was marvelous. The students were running out of the gate forming a sea of grey and white. The white of their uniform appeared like the foam on the waves. And the irregular pattern of the students created the illusion of ripples . The rain added charm to it . I was mesmerized. I stood there and waited for her. It was nothing new for me, I have been waiting for her for the last 2 years. Here in this cycle stand , day after day , only to see a glimpse of my dream. 

I cherished everymoment I got to see her beauty. She was like a soothing breath to my chaotic life. The school was going to be closed for the Autumn break. I would have to wait for 15 days to see her next glimpse. I was anxious, I was restless. It was raining , I had no means of protection. I was wet , I was shivering , but these small hurdles could never create any obstacle in my way to get her glimpse for the last time…

But suddenly The gate keeper Saw me there. when I saw he was coming towards me I tried to hide. Actually I was so absorbed in her thoughts that I couldn’t sense someone (the gate keeper) watching me. It had been two long years, still I hadn’t been caught yet. That day everything seemed to go wrong. Watching my failed attempts at hidding from him, the gate keeper must have taken me as a thief. Not that my clothes could have hinted otherwise. 

I was a thin boy. Pale by complexion or insufficient blood, no one can tell. By no one I wasn’t indicating doctors. since I have never met one, I couldn’t really comment on their skills. That would be unfair. Trust me I know what “unfair” means. I admit I have never been to a fancy school like this but they say experience is the best teacher. I know how it feels when someone becomes unfair towards us. sometimes fate becomes unfair and even sometimes our own parents too. And my whole life has been unfair to me. Having witnessed those feeling I would never intentionally pull someone into that hole .Even today luck wasn’t in my favor. The gate keeper found me.

Having thought me a thief he slapped me hard. My cheeks burnt. It wasn’t an unfamiliar sensation. Every now and then I got beaten . The slap was nothing in comparison to the physical abuse and pain I get daily. 

What hurt me more was the embarrassment. He slapped me infront of the crowd. Called me names. Insulted my parents. I was embarrassed. I was used to beating , for I deny to sell my Integrity and values by stealing or begging. But today he was questioning my character. I tried to speak but he again stroke me hard against my cheeks. I tasted iron, along with salt. 

I was too afraid to raise my gaze. A crowd had been clustered there. “She might be watching me. What would she think if she sees me like this. The situations weren’t in my favor . She would think I am a thief . They might hand me over to the police. All my hopes would get shattered. she would never accept me”. These were the thoughts echoing in my brain. 

My brain stopped working. My body became numb, partly due to the chill and rain outside. And partly due to the tremor of pain and embarrassment inside. I dropped to my knees . I didn’t know whether I cried or I shouted. I tugged his hand . Tried to explain him everything but all my attempts went in vain. 

The crowd watched me with curiosity and disgust. Murmures were going on. I was too dumb struck to comprehend those silent talks. Some boys were hooting for the gatekeeper to strike me again. Some girls were ‘aww’ing and cooing . Every one was witnessing the scene. 

A kind face appeared from the crowd. The crowd departed and she made a bee line toward me. There she was, in all her shinning glory and serene smile. She had came to my rescue. If I die today I would have no regrets. She believed in me , that’s why she has came to me. That was a the moment of relief in my years of pain.
But I was mistaken. She was followed by her Principal. She didn’t even acknowledge me. Pointing towards me she said something. I didn’t understand a thing. Or should I say I didn’t wish to understand. Judging by her look I could tell that this would be the last time I was going to see her, despite of the fact that this was the first time I got to watch her from so close. She was like the moon to me. Beautiful, Smart, intelligent , elegant and classy. She was all that I wasn’t and all I wanted to be. She was the definition of perfection and yet she was the reason behind my destruction. I drank in her beauty, like a chakor drinks in the serenity of moon . I tried to remember every details of her. I tried to paint her image in brain. I tried to write her in the chords of my heart  so that when ever it will beat it would encore  her rythm .  I tried to feel her in every inch of my body. The crave to be held by her was overpowering. I couldn’t resist any longer. I knew this would be the last time I got to see her. They might send me to jail or might make me go. But one thing was sure I won’t be allowed to the school permisess. So I gave in to the urge. Slowly I raised my hand. I reached towards her, Touched her feet. As I touched her feet ;two drops of tears rolled down my cheek. This was the “dream came true” moment of my life. I was touching the feet of my mother. I have imagined it in a lot of ways. But never once in my life this possibility had occurred to me. Hell! life is unpredictable. well in a sense it’s not. I should have known it would be never too fair towards me. I smiled and I cried. I smiled over my fate, I cried over the death of my beautifully woven dreams . I smiled that finally I got to touch her; I cried that I couldn’t get to talk to her. Smiling, crying, sobbing I remained there, Taking in all the scenes and remenscing about my life. I sat there untill she jerked her feet away. she looked down at me. Something flickered in her eyes. Having been a teacher for some years now, she must have learnt how to read the languages of eyes. My eyes full of tears spoke volumes to hers. She stared at me. then looked away. 
I wasn’t angry on her. She was bounded , She was bounded that time too when she had abandoned me thinking I would be better off as an orphan than a basta*d. I understand her and I understand her reasons. I returned to the reality. The principal had taken her decision. she was handing me over to the police. 
I looked at her, my mother. Finally she broke the silence asked me where do u live!? I gave her the address of the orphanage where she had left me 13 years back. For a passing Second I saw a light of realization there. she talked to her Principal. They mutually agreed to send me to that hell again.

That day the rain washed away all my hopes . My wings were heavy from the weight of my broken dreams. That day the rain not only wetted my body it drenched my soul.still I found solace in the rain. I was not alone in the crowd . The sky was crying for me. No one could see the hot tears burning my in eyes in the cold drops of rain. For me it was like her. The rain had always reminded me of her. Only I got to know now, that they both are the synonyms of each other. She and the rain;the two martyers  of my life who  betrayed me every time I relied on them.

The lighting stroke, tearing apart the dark clouds; and somewhere deep in my heart a ray of hope flickered.  As I sat on the van with the gate keeper, I looked into her eyes and the look in her eyes told me, from there on my life was going to be a little bit less unfairer towards me. 

                                        _ 🎭Nayana🎭

A piece of mind and love for Two .

Love is a puzzle,Love is a guide.
Love is flame,
That keeps us alive.
In the rain or in the night
It’s all one could think of when
Everything in us burns inside.

Sometimes I wonder is it possible to be in love with two people simultaneously!! Is it possible to share your heart with two different people. Then I go on thinking, thinking of people I know, thinking of stories I have read , thinking of movies I have watched. When some of them say yeah! U can; some of them totally discard the idea of it. Some say “In life u have have to find the missing piece of puzzle that would complete it”. well what if two pieces are missing!?? Can’t it be a possibility. Some say ” the person who understands u the best is the right person to fall in love with”. But many a times no one understands me. N sometimes more than one people understand me. So in that case what to do!! Being a realistic girl(self proclaimed) I think it depends upon your conversational and expressional skill to make people understand you. Then again sometimes I do foolish things like I mislead people, knowingly , to see if they could decode my poly or not!! And sometimes I act childish, hidding my feelings and expecting some one to unearth them. I mean, come on!! People are not mind readers. Their behavior, expectancy all depends upon the way they know us. So how can one understand me when I let him know the only half of me. 

Admit it or not. We all are grey. None of is shadeless. But we want all to view us in a monochrome. Create a image of us that basically is only the image of a fraction of us. Even if someone shows his shades that’s because of his fear of consequences or due to some weakness of his. But even in the shades the crave for love doesn’t get intermixed with the shadows of past. 

So!! Why that crave !? And when there is love from two people then what’s irrational in it. The answer is conscinece and satisification. We being humans, all we want to is to be understood. We live in a hypothetical land of fairytales that lead us to believe that someone out there is taking breaths only coz of us. We take pride in that. We don’t expect everyone to understand us, the expectations come from a person who has been close to us. There is nothing like “the heart” and “the brain”. The heart is the mixture of all the moral values,beliefs ,some blood and hormones . While “the brain” is a suspension where the logics,recent facts, experiences are suspended in the ocean of ages of education we have received. And the conflict between the brain and the heart is actually the struggle between the age old believes and the recent facts. When someone suits to either of these two and we feel the reason behind their closeness is out of general circumstances we name it as an”out of the world feeling-Love”. Now coming back to the point , is it possible for a person to be in love with two people simultaneously!!!? I would say yes. Don’t agree!! Ask yourself don’t u love both of your parents!! . Yeah yeah I know that’s a different kind of love. NO! Thats not a different kind of love. There is nothing like “kinds of love”. It’s just that we know there would be no problem loving both of them simultaneously. But when it comes to love someone out of your circle the problems arises. We are scared that we can’t satisfy them . We feel guilty. Coz we know these two people are not perfect mismatch. We know we can’t handle two lives at a time. But what if we figure out a way to!! But it would be infidelity. It all comes back to the vows. The promises and the conscinece. So here we are again! Why Love can happen twice but not simultaneously. 

That’s not all my views. But yeah a part of it. It keeps changing though. Thank you for reading.

                                        🎭Nayana🎭

Bonding

Koi mujhko Yun Mila hey jese banjare ko Ghar..

                                   25th December,2016

Dear swapna,

I know I haven’t written to you in a long interval but Today is the day when people say wishes are granted. So I couldn’t resist myself. Here I’m sitting by the terrace and looking at the crescent,Imaging what life would have been If August 21st haven’t had happened…

              💎💎 21st August,2006 💎💎

“Chay le lo chay .. chaye le lo chaye garma garam chay.”… 

“Bhaiya saman dedo apna, hum uthalenge”

“Nahin Nahin saheb hum uthalenge .. bus 10 rupeyee hi dedena”

“Side se hato yaar.. Rasta dedo..Jaldi jaldi Chalo”..

The hustle bustle of railway station had always found a way to up lift the curves of my lips.They gave me a feeling of belongingness.

As I stepped down the iron beast, engulfed in the cloud of smoke , I felt like a superstar . Well for me my landing was a perfect shot taken from SRK’s MHN. Okay! U got me right, a die hard SRK fan! And a blind believer of true love. Only if I could find one! The kind of love that lasts for a life time. That’s enough for one to live his life in the memories of his beloved. The kind of love that’s described in novels. That existed between Raj and simran, that led jack to give the wooden plank to rose… 

“Aouch!! Dekh k Chalo na bhaiya” an irritated sweet voice shouted at me. Dumbfounded I stared back at her. Her eyes were like the deep ocean that held a lot of treasures of secrets. The intensity of her gaze could melt any stone. Then she turned and hurried to the platform no.2  and in the process crushed the faint hope of love that was starting to bloom in my heart”.  For the umpteenth time I lost another potential love interest. Yeah I’m a  single, desperate, miserable  guy leading a hopeless lovelife. For a guy who was in love with DDLJ n had completed his college days dreaming of the day when his Anjali would say”Kuch Kuch hota hey , Arjun Tum Nahin samjhoge” , not finding a love was like a malignant tumor.And there goes the dreamer Arjun… 

Anything and everything that happens on the world was a potential distracting element for me. I was in the city of dreams. The city that had the reputation of being insomniac. “Amchi Mumbai”.I loved the way Vidya valan used to say “goooood moooornning Mumbai”. And during the initial days of my hangover I used to imitate her. Her voice was so beautiful n fresh…. 
“Beta dekh k Nahin chal sakte. Avi lag jaati toh gharwalon ko call Karne k haal mein v Nahin rahte.” A trembling hand jerked me towards the corner of the road as a speeding goods carrier rushed past me. A ghust of cold air dashed into my lungs. And my eyes moistened with the Impact. 

My life had never mattered to anyone, untill now. After being raised by myself (orphan!! yeah that’s the word) I have never thought my life could ever matter to anyone. That’s why I craved for pure love. That’s why I craved for families n emotional love. That’s why Kuch Kuch hota hey was my favorite not Kavi khusi kabhi ghum. Oye,baba,bhaiya,saheb n Arjun that’s what people call me. Never once in my life,One had called me beta let alone worrying for my life. 

Slowly I turned my eyes in the upward direction to the face. The old wrinkles had linned his face in a crisscross manner as if displaying the hardness of life he had to endure. His eyes was moist. N his whole body was trembling with the morning chills after the August rain. He was carrying a basket full of vegetables. From his clothes I could say that he was a vendor. Again I concentrated my gaze on his face . To me it was the kindest face I have ever seen . His wrinkles were beauty lines for me. At that moment I encountered with the first love of my life. I instantly fell a tug of attachment towards the old man. 

I returned from the trance.I blinked down the tears.My voice trembled as I said “sukriya baba!” He being oblivious of the tourmil going inside me replyed casually,”pata Nahin aaj Kal k logon ka.. dekh k chal v Nahin pate par pata Nahin paise kese kama lete hein”. I smiled . He was a typical Indian old man,Complaing about the new generation. If it were any other time I would have jumped into the argument. But I smiled and listened to his blabbering. 

“Will You come with me!?” Suddenly I heard myself asking. I didn’t know what had possessed me and why was a I asking that to a stranger out of blue. But then he was no longer a stranger to me. He was everything I had in this world. 

He stared back at me astonished. I was counting on my luck for the first time. For the first time I left everything on luck, completely unexpected.

“Yes” he replied. 

          💎💎21st August,2016💎💎

The house felt lonely but this time the loneliness didn’t hunt me. I had a wall full of photographs. Memories,that would last for the life . Within the past 10 years I have changed a lot. From being a hopeless romantic to a responsible practical person. I have achieved a lot. From being small start-up planner to an established entrpruner, I have matured a lot. In this long journey I have found a family;Me, my baba n sheru, our dog. As I lit the Diya Infront of the framed photo of baba sheru came running. I ruffled his furs , while doing so I missed my parents. 10 years ago he had came to my life and now , today he left the world , left my world. The difference is at that time I didn’t know to whom I belong, now all my existence was screaming the signature of that person who had been my mentor, support,pioneer ;My FATHER. I was no longer an orphan screaming , questioning, n shouting at the universe for his identity. Now I knew whom I  belong. The 21 year vagabond had now gotten a place to seek solace.

Today when I burned the only human I had in this world,A part of me was relieved . He was suffering for the last 2 years. But, when I lie on my bed with sheru at my footrest I started feeling lonely. I missed his caughs , I missed his feble voice , I missed taking care of him n more than that I missed his care n love. I was incomplete without him.I went to the terrace n looked at the crescent . N I found my companion. Even The full moon decreases to crescent. But then the crescent grows into a full moon.The cycle goes on… 

                              💎💎💎

               …. Then I realized if 21st August haven’t had happened I would have been lost in the maddening crowd of this cruel world,where every one claims to know the other but their own pain is hidden from their heart. And now on the Christmas Eve I wish I could be someone like my baba. If he couldn’t come back to me then I could be a ‘baba’ for someone. Dear ,I know you can’t speak or express like us but thanks for listening to my every blabbering.                                                                         ……….   Arjun

                                                 🎭Nayana🎭