Orbiting Memories

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Does time go round and round?

Or exist like stars,

A moment, a single breath,

Existing like a point of brilliance

In the vast darkness

Of space and the universe?

Are memories,

Yours and mine,

Like comets that shoot

Through the confusion

Of the void

To those dreamy stars

Where time stands still,

And there we’re taking that same

Intake of breath again and again

That, in reality, we took only once before

So many years ago?

Do the darker moments

Of our lives

The tears, the heartbreak,

The downs, the misery

Exist as black holes,

Which, if returned to,

Leave us trapped and

Suspended

In a single spark of doom

Until, by some miracle,

We see a speck of light

From the brighter stars

Of happier days

And float towards them

In a cloudy daze

Through the void?

Where there is no gravity,

Where there is no present,

Where nothing was,

Where nothing will be…

Is that where it all rests?

Is that where time

Resides?

~Diksha

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The Reverse Karma

It’s strange when I look in the mirror, naked, and see myself as nobody else ever can.

The scars that only torture my eyes, the memories that shall only ever play in my head.

The cuts that I created, the places I burnt my soul.

The places I let you touch me, the parts of me I bared to you.

The hands that held yours as I let you ruin me. The hands that now ruin others.

What goes around comes around. But can life read it backwards?

Is the string still the same if viewed from the other end?

Time must have felt in my soul, the whispers of actions yet undone..

And so brought me to you.

Perhaps punishment comes before deed sometimes, if so Fate commands.

How else do I justify what was done to me?

How else do I learn to deserve it?

How else do I make peace with it,

If I do not accept the reversibility of karma?

~Diksha

 

The Story of Two

Dots. Ink blots.

Letters. Connections.

Words. Meanings.

Sentences. Feelings.

 

Endings. Beginnings.

 

Stormy skies. Calm oceans.

Gentleness. Explosions.

Brown. Yellow.

Autumn. Spring.

Buds. Flowers.

 

Nothing. Everything.

 

Stories. Songs.

Here. There.

Quiet. Bright.

Smiles. Laughs.

Dimmers. Spotlights.

 

Fingertips. Palms.

Smoke. Touch.

Breath. Life.

 

So little. So much.

An. The.

Me. You.

~Diksha

 

The Sun and the Moon

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At dawn, our lovelorn eyes meet;

Can you hear my raging heartbeat?

 

In a misty room, we pass each other,

And yet, as Fate would have it –

Miles apart from each other.

 

With Clouded emotions

And a heavy sense of duty,

We part, while the light

Masks your ethereal beauty.

 

Morning changes to noon

And noon to evening,

While I toy with the idea

Of a clandestine meeting.

 

The Children wouldn’t see

And Mother wouldn’t know;

Soft, pearly curtains shall be

The lone spectators to the show.

 

My heart hammers again,

And I let my heart fill with fascination

As I think of the scandalous contrast

Your calm’d be to my desperation.

 

You are the eternal glow

That melts the heart of many;

While I, the destroyer

Cannot look into the eyes of any.

 

And so I wait

As you appear at dusk again

Floating amongst the clouds

With your usual nightly brigade.

 

Your twinkling comrades

Surround you protectively;

And like an embarrassed lover,

Without a word, I flee.

 

Sleep eludes me

As I pace in frustration,

And stare at you longingly,

Battling an age-old sensation.

 

But Fate never meant

For us to be together;

So we can do little but lament –

Be star crossed forever.

 

And so at dawn again,

Our eyes shall meet;

And I shall wonder again

If you can hear my heartbeat.

 

In a misty room,

We’ll pass each other;

And yet, like always,

Miles apart from one another.

~Diksha

The Smoky Billows

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I like to watch the clouds.

And not just because of the shapes:

Cottony characters, creatures and the

Fancies of those lazy days.

Not because of the aura

Of the sun that peeks

From between the curtains

In lovely orange streaks.`

Not because they’re moving

Forever ahead;

Without a care in the world:

No joy, no dread.

And certainly not because

Their colossal aspect

Reminds me of my own triviality

And fills me with respect.

I watch the clouds because

They fill me with fascination

For sharing with so many others

The beauty of creation.

And because it reminds me of my part

In this beautiful manifestation

Of God’s divine art

And fills me with elation.

~Diksha

Tainted

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First glance.

Knee-jerk:

From his gaze, she must shirk.

Second exchange.

Still scared:

She would not be ensnared.

Third day.

Doubt grows:

To every stranger, a little trust she owes.

Fourth look.

Hesitant smile:

He seems like a friend for a while..

Fifth time.

Say hi:

He has to be a nice guy.

Sixth smile.

Tainted touch:

She flees from the hands that clutch.

Seventh hell.

Weapon ready:

She approaches their spot with resolve unsteady.

Eighth day.

No show:

Her attacker has left her to her woe.

Ninth year.

Undying plea:

Someone peel off the skin where he touched me.

Tenth time.

Opens mouth:

But still feels dirty and uncouth.

Eleventh stranger.

Unending distrust:

Every man is guided by lust.

Twelfth night.

Sleepless eyes:

I will not rest until he dies.

~Diksha

Dust to Dust: A Dreamy Visit to My Old School

The run down, black, metal gate stood broken on its hinges, allowing us only a narrow passage to pass through the premises of the deserted school campus. Right before us was an old marble sculpture, its detailed features were blunted in many places but the kindly visage of the woman was still clear in the stone.

Moving along the old corridor that ran to the left of the sculpture, we reached the very last room. The two windows with the broken fiber glass panes gave us a partial view of a dusty classroom through the metal grills with chipped black paint. Pushing open the wooden doors, we carefully stepped inside.

Old wooden armchairs crowded the place, termite eating at their shaky, squeaky legs. Some chairs lay overturned on the floor and some stood with broken armrests.

Numerous beams of the cheerful sunlight had lit up the depressing room with our entrance. The dust particles we had unsettled were floating about in the brightness. Coughing slightly, we examined the chamber.

The floor was barely visible beneath the thick layer of dirt that had accumulated over the centuries. Intricate cobwebs adorned the silent fans and bulbs hanging from the ceiling. Rotting boards hung askew along two of the walls, the green cloth covering almost entirely eaten by worms.

Along the front wall of the classroom were two wooden cupboards, one of which had a tiny, old lock hanging from its latch. Between the two cupboards hung a majestic green chalkboard, its slate rotting away like the rest of the furniture in the room. On the floor in front of the chalkboard, an old security camera lay with a withered old sock covering its glassy eye.

All around the clothed camera lay dusty, half decayed pieces of paper, all displaying a uniform message, ‘Adieu XII – B!’. All over the room, we found other papers full of doodles made during mindless chatter, silly drawings singing of the abandon of youth and emotionless goodbyes punctuated with a hope to keep in touch.

The room which stank of decay and time was enclosed by walls which were alive with memories.

As I looked around the broken chairs once again, dozens of carefree schoolgirls grinned at me, thrilled that they had been discovered at last.

~Diksha

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~Diksha

The Tinder Affair

Do you like a story? Do you like a funny story? Do you like a crazy AND funny story?

Then you’ve found the right post!

*sets up podium*

*climbs atop*

*clears throat*

Presenting to you The Tinder Affair, my new story! It’s a fanfiction of the same show that I’ve written about earlier – Iss Pyaar Ko Kya Naam Doon.

The best part? You don’t need to know anything about the show to read it!

It’s a small light hearted story and I’d love to know what you guys think of it! So pop in and drop a comment! 🙂 ❤

~Diksha

A Fairytale Holi: An Illusory Hamesha

The fresh air from the window seemed to clean his head of the residual effects of the bhaang and recollection came slowly.

         He couldn’t believe he’d let himself lose control like that. Submitted himself to her mercy like that. She was his enemy. And he’d let her see his weakest side.

         Arnav’s hands clenched into fists at the sound of his bedroom door opening. The tinkling of her payal. The clinking of her bangles. And then the door was closed again.

         Motionless.

         They both stood silently in their places for an infinite moment.

         And then Arnav turned to glare at her.

         The crystal-like tear streaming rapidly down the cheek he had stroked less than an hour ago, stopped him dead in his tracks.

         Pain shot through his chest and his heart clenched in torment.

         And when she raised her moisture laden eyes, he forgot everything. Everything she said. Everything he heard.

         Everything he’d felt before this moment.

         He staggered towards her for the second time that day. But unlike before, his fingers were not hesitant while finding hers. Nor was his other hand tentative as it brushed against her cheek, wiping away the offensive tear.

         And yet again with the silent question.

         Humaare dil…?

         He nodded reassuringly. Ek ho jaate hain.

         And then he was lowering his face to hers, without knowing what he was doing. Maybe the bhaang hadn’t really worn off yet.

         He stopped within an inch of her mouth, looking carefully into her eyes, seeking her permission. She seemed entranced and frozen. Unlikely to make a move. So Arnav prepared to retreat, disappointment filling his heart.

         But then her head moved infinitesimally towards his and as soon as he caught the movement, his mouth went crashing against hers.

         Hearts stopped. Then thundered.

         One took a sharp intake of breath and the other sighed.

         Hands rose to cup each other’s face.

         Lips danced.

         Breaths mingled.

         And time… seemed to cease existing.

         She kissed him with hesitation, then reckless abandon. With eagerness and long suppressed tenderness. With relief and a funny acidity.

         He kissed her with hesitation, then in a desperate search for reassurance. With eagerness and long-suppressed desire. With relief and a growing giddiness.

         When they broke apart for breath, Arnav felt like his world had turned a complete one-eighty. For the first time, he doubted his initial judgement.

         Opening his eyes to gaze reverently at Khushi’s flushed face, he wondered if their kiss had cleared his head of something more than the bhaang.

         And when she opened her eyes to reflect his fascinated look, he felt his resolve hardening.

         It wasn’t over yet. It could be alright. Perhaps she could be his. Perhaps there was more to the aisa kyun hota hai.” And he would find out what that more was.

         As he brushed his lips against hers for a second time, he decided to believe.

         Believe that maybe, maybe, hamesha wasn’t ruined yet. That maybe it was just hiding behind his curtain.

         Or behind Khushi’s yellow, translucent, fluttering dupatta.

 ~Diksha