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

 

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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

Fresh on Fiverr!

Got a short story to write? Can’t figure out how to make an attractive blog post? Need help proofreading and editing your work?

Find me on Fiverr for assistance with your writing assignments and projects! Check out my profile here for more details!

~Diksha

Sin and Salvation

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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

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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 )

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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.

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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.

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This one just speaks for itself, really! ❤

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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!

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

The Crazy Artist

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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