Pens and Pages

So that was it, Stepping on broken pieces of glass, bare feet till your toes too bleed, Splinters that pierce the skin, that flow within you like blood, never to be found again... Where darkness ended, another night began... And that was the way things were for them When they lived in different cities... Five years later when they were united They expected the world to turn all rosy, The pain to go away And happiness to stay. So when they met, they made promises to keep. To live in the same city. But that was the way things were in that city. They now live in different families

If only truths were spoken, I can say forevers can be counted, On the tiny fingers of love Born a few years ago, On the walls painted red, Every year on the same date. But love has grown up now. The red walls have been repainted, This time, on another date, Only to be repeated year after year, One false forever after another. And truths, these days, are spoken The same way promises are made, With gritted teeth and crossed fingers. At the end of the day, All smiles seem fake, The fake forevers remain To be counted upon the stars, One after the other, Some forgotten, Some too dim to be seen, But a forever, nevertheless, Another star to keep.

A second of eternity Pouring into a frail heart, Mouthful of love And handful of trust. Wounds that lasted But only for a moment, Have turned to rotten flesh, And used-to-be-lips-and-a-face. Then love comes again Like a rainbow on a clear-sky-day. The dark clouds must have Withered away in pain. A new skin appears now, Fresh and unsullied To be wounded again But this time, with memories.

I hope you still write her letters, I hope tears still fall from her eyes, Reading those letters she never found. And when you look at the letters you never sent, I hope it's her eyes that see the love wrapped, For they no longer need to know the words. But even when words fail to work magic, I hope you still believe in your letters... I hope you still write her letters But I hope you send the letters you wrote..

When he made that charming cup of tea, And when he smiled, so lovingly, You knew you were changing, Your stone cold heart was now melting, One pebble at a time. And when he touched you, gently, You just smiled. Oh, did it hurt then? When you knew he was leaving? Or, were you just embracing The moment, without grieving? His presence, His perfume, Did that make you forget About someone you left Long before he came? And when he talked about his love, Did you reminisce yours? Or is it him you thought about, And his lost love of yore? When he asked about you, You knew you were ready to tell, To tell him about all you know, And all that has bothered you, ever so. Did you tell him then that you were broken? Or did you just shed a drop of tear? Tell me, did you just smile, And pretended to be just fine? Did your heart want to cry? Did you feel like running away to hide? When he caressed your hands, You knew you wanted him to stay. You knew if he just stay...

I'm far from being a romantic person. Loving? Not at all. I giggle at the wrong time. My laugh is too loud. I dance weirdly. I often find myself away from people or I find a way to push them away. But I giggle, laugh and dance anyway. And whenever I find myself alone, I sing, I think and I write. That's the closest to love that I can ever be. And when I hug the trees and kiss the sunset, when I admire the birds fly and I dance on the beach, that's the closest to romance that I can ever be. I make poems in my head. I make them all the time. I have always been in love. I'm still in love. I pour all my love to the notepad I write on. I romance the pen. The poems that are still lingering in my head, they say I'm incurably romantic. I still keep my poems. I live more in my imaginations than in reality. And if that's not love, I don't know what else is. I don't need a him or a her. I'm in love with love itself. I'm a story in another story. I'...

Plot: Contemporary Beauty and the Beast with alternating narration Plot Credits: Prasanna Rao This post is a voluntary submission for the 6th exercise of Indifiction Workshop. Read the story  here . I looked at the pathetically selfish being in the mirror. I was terrified by my own cruelty. The way I just acted in front of poor Priya. Tears trickled down my cheeks and I stood in front of the mirror, crying for the first time in what seemed like a thousand years. Loving someone doesn’t mean that you ought to own that person. “ Let her go ”, kept saying a voice in my head. I mustered the courage and walked to her room where she was sitting on her bed hugging her pillow all wet by her tears. “I am sorry, Priya”. I said. “You should go with your sisters to Goa for the vacation like they have asked for. I apologize for holding you back.” I somehow felt relieved after verbalizing those words. Indeed my heart broke a little but it was my penance as in the three years of our ma...

Your love is like a glass of wine it's always less than I ask for, its always more than I deserve, your love is like the ring on my finger I am embellished by its glint, It is admired now and again, It may not be commemorated at all times, but I will be incomplete, with a void if it's lost..

If only tears could heal... Poem to be published in Minds at Work 2 by FirstStep Publishing

A huge fan I am of the actor Salman Khan, but as asked by my friends for an unbiased review (i.e. assuming it was just another actor and not THE Salman Khan) here it goes: 5 stars is what I would give it just after recalling Salman's face once, but "committing" to my promise as stated above, I am giving it somewhere between 4 and 4.5 stars. Now, I know that many critics have given it 3 stars but ignoring every other review or the star's charisma I give it a 4 that goes solely to the movie. One star I have deducted because the dialogues at the very first scene did not live up-to my expectations. Nor was Salman looking his very best (I felt like he was having a cold or the likes of that).  The action scenes were not over shown or dramatic like that of Bodyguard’s (albeit it came as a nice surprise to me). But the unexpected twists and turns after the interval of the movie are what made the movie one of a kind. You would expect something to happen while the oppo...