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

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

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

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

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

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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!

 

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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!

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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… ❤