A Fairytale Holi: A Surreal Question

“Bataiye na… Aisa kyun hota hai?”

         The lump in Arnav’s throat was impossible to swallow. And Khushi’s helpless gaze impossible to look away from.

         It couldn’t be real.

         This moment.

         This feeling.

         Her question.

         Surely this was the product of his wishful thinking.

         Perhaps a manifestation of his stupor induced confusion.

         How well he knew ki aisa kyun hota hai.

         How desperately he wished ki aisa na hota.

         How dreadfully complicated things had become after he had realized ki aisa kyun hota hai.

         And now she was telling him ki aisa uske saath bhi hota hai?

         Khushi blinked sadly at him, waiting.

         And his heart was practically breaking.

         What difference did it make? If he told her? It wouldn’t change anything anyway. Would it? She wasn’t his.

         And he was a defeated man. At least where she was concerned. No amount of fighting would change his feelings for her. No number of cutting, mean words would make him hate her. So he might as well submit. Might as well confess his crime.

         Because what else was it but a crime? He had known love was nonsense. And yet, he had let himself fall for her. And now he was paying the price. Enduring his punishment. He had her within his arm’s reach. And she still wasn’t his.

         Arnav swallowed thickly, looking at the girl with a regretful intensity. The heat of his gaze made his eyes water. And simultaneously, so did hers.

         A catalytic reaction.

         That’s how they’d always been.

         She moves, he moves.

         He moves, she moves.

         She wasn’t his.

         But they were tied. With a thousand threads. Fine, like the strings of a spider’s web. They wound around their fingers. They shimmered in the darkness where the monsters lurked. Monsters desperate to pry them apart.

         She wasn’t his.

         But she’d just said ki aisa uske saath bhi hota hai.

         Confusion muddled Arnav’s head. His reaction floated to the bottoms of his consciousness. The bhang zapped electricity into his limbs.

         His hand reached out to grasp her face. Warm fingers stroked her pillow-soft cheeks and blood rushed to them as her eyes followed the trail of his fingertips.

         His lips moved of their own accord.

         Aisa kyun hota hai?

“Main batata hoon ki aisa kyun hota hai.”   

~Diksha

Advertisements

A Fairytale Holi: A Sun-Kissed Dance

Colours.

Laughter.

Friendly banter.

Music.

More colours.

Mithai.

Bhaang.

Drunken giggles.

Colours still.

Fun.

Frolicking.

Freaking soap opera.

Arnav’s thoughts had reduced to tiny phrases against each other inside his head while the deafening sound of the dhol thumped against his ears.

The morning had just begun and he was already exhausted. Not only was his patience paper thin with having to put up with his family’s drunken antics but he was restless with frustration at the lingering feel of Khushi’s gulaal-covered fingertips on his cheeks. Every time he closed his eyes, her deep, unsettled hazel hazel stared back at him, seeming to question him, to plead with  him about something. In the crystal ocean of her eyes, he had seen reflected the memories of those days just before Payal and Akash’s wedding. THEIR wedding.

It was funny. How easily he could sometimes forget everything else when he looked at her. Times like those when she was smiling with abandon. Laughing like she had no care in the world. Dancing like she was now.

The sunlight seemed to kiss Khushi’s pearlescent skin. It seemed to make her eyes twinkle. Her smile glimmer. It made her hair appear brown in the glow.

Arnav staggered towards Khushi, his unwavering gaze fixed on her face. The hints of a smile danced on his lips when she turned around to look at him. She knew he was there. She always did. He vaguely wondered how.

His hesitant fingers found her trembling ones, the only part of her that wasn’t frozen with surprise. She lowered her startled gaze to their hands at the first featherlight touch of his fingertips. Then, slowly, tentatively, he grasped her hand in his and she allowed her fingers to wrap around his.

Breathless anticipation whispered anxiously at him through her eyes when she raised her head to meet his gaze again. And there it was again. Her unspoken question. Her silent plea. Can we go back to how it was before?

The sparks of a dance on a sangeet night almost a lifetime ago, brushed their lips against his ears. Arnav’s knees went weak but Khushi watched his eyes soften.

Two hearts thudded loud enough to hear each other.

In a surreal movement, Arnav raised their linked hands above her head.

And then, she was twirling.

~Diksha

It’s Not Okay

its-ok-not-be-ok-saying-quotes

 

Three simple words.

And yet, the effort to admit that they are true… Not so simple.

It’s not okay.

We’re afraid to say it. Afraid that saying it will give it that air of finality that we’re terrified of. Afraid that saying it will make us weak. Afraid that saying it, will make it real.

We build walls around us. Try to hide our true feelings. Try to hide our pain. Try to hide our troubles. And somewhere along the way… We end up hiding us from our own selves.

We put up a brave front. Tell anyone who messes with us, anyone who hurts us, to fuck themselves. Tell ourselves that we’re okay on our own.

We keep the truth deep down inside us. Because we don’t want to be a coward by saying that it hurts.

But you know what?

It takes a real hardcore to let it all out. To lay their pain, naked, for all the world to see. To admit that they’re not okay.

That it’s not okay.

And when they’ve done that, they’re already on the path of healing.

Because when they admit that, they are no longer cowards. They may not be okay.

But they sure as hell are freakin’ awesome!

 

everything-will-be-okay-in-the-end-if-its-not-okay-its-not-the-end-quote-1

 

Sin and Salvation

90f6182bd4e0ecffa75923a77c8f51c4

When Lucifer falls from heaven,

And the Fruit is bit in Eden.

When Cain kills brother Abel,

And when God’s voice turns to fable.

When man surrenders to envy,

And anger, greed and proud frenzy.

Thenceforth shall man’s doom be writ,

And the Path of Salvation lit.

Cross the Tunnel towards the light,

The Quest shall end in sweet respite!

~Diksha

12, Grimmauld Place

12_grim_place

 

In the Noble House of Black,

You’ll be welcomed with taunts and shrieks

And slave heads shall greet you from the rack,

In the Noble House of Black.

For hiding secrets, its walls have a knack,

So be careful when a wooden step creaks.

In the Noble House of Black,

You’ll be welcomed with taunts and shrieks.

~Diksha

NaNoWriMo Inspiration!

Are you one of those brave writers attempting to write a novel this November?

Hola! You’re doing a great job! (Somebody had to say it

This post is for all you little soldiers of words! I have selected these quotes specifically to help you rejuvenate yourself as you take a much deserved break from the writing or to encourage you to write if you have been procrastinating!

(But, of course, motivation is necessary even for the regular writer! So NaNoWriMo or no, dive into the inspiration that follows! xD )

2

You are the magic. For you create something out of nothing! You are the god of your own world. Be fearless! Nothing can stop you there.

5

Your own words are your best guiding light! Nobody can tell you where your character is gonna land up. Apart from you!

7

Everybody is unique. And so is their story. Never look into your neighbour’s notebook and feel sad about your own! Because their notebook doesn’t have one important thing. You.

images

This one just speaks for itself, really! ❤

1

enhanced-29573-1395340050-2

Remember, November is for writing! Don’t look back on the last chapter (or paragraph… or sentence!). Write! You have eons to edit your work!

6

Listen to your gut. Write what you believe in. Your story is amazing! And so are you… ❤

The Crazy Artist

img_2031

 

Aren’t we all guilty of suddenly exclaiming aloud when we find just the right word to turn a sentence into a god-like manifestation of our literary genius?

Or giggling devilishly in public as we write the Plot Twist of all plot twists?

Or cry as we write an emotional scene?

We’ve all been there, done that!

Unless… You haven’t?

In which case, my friend, you haven’t felt your writing properly yet…

And I can only say this to you…

Feel. Embrace. Be crazy.

Be a Writer!

~Diksha

A Champion Dead

harry-potter-full-717781

 

Home I brought,

His Champion, dead;

The father’s cries

Still ring in my head;

Cold, grey eyes

Stared up, undead.

A boy of seventeen

Now lay on his eternal bed;

To bring about his end

Had been my stead;

Guiltily, I look at his visage

On his immortal, wooden bed.

A decade old enmity

Had lain my parents dead

And now this innocent boy

Whose father stood with tears unshed;

Squeezing my eyes shut, I wonder,

Why couldn’t it have been me instead?

~Diksha

The Yellow Lady

candle-929028_960_720

 

 

Oh! Fire…

A dancing flame,

Shapeless

Speechless

Mesmerising

Powerful

With no beginning

And no end.

An ancient song

She sways to;

Slow, lithe, graceful,

Exuding joy,

Consuming grief –

Her immortal light

An elegant gleam.

Read more ->

Happy Diwali!

img-20151113-wa0001-1

Here’s to hoping that this Diwali brings all you bloggers better post ideas and allows your inner writer to shine and sparkle like never before! May you be happy and prosper for many more Diwalis to come! ❤

~Diksha