The Warrior Spirit

The first time when he touched her,
He claimed her soul to his breath,
She decided for his heart to be her home,
And together they vowed to never give it up,
Then one day, he took away her tomorrow,
Blended her boundless love with unlimited sorrow,
Since then, she had only known her shadow,
To be her ally in the darkness alone,
For every night when he was away,
She chose to drown in his memory,
Every morning when she woke up to an empty life,
She chose to deny the truth,
So she could surrender to the endless pain,
That pierced through her self-esteem,
Whenever she tried to say goodbye,
To the world they created together,
While he had left her behind to savor their doom,
She played with the broken pieces,
Of her withering and flickering heart,
So she could fool it just one last time,
With the hope that he will return,
And claim her to himself all over again,
But until then, she would survive the pain,
With a smile on her face,
And the warrior-spirited woman she is,
So don’t be late this time, she would be waiting.


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Diary of Nobody -II-

Today I woke up with a pain in my chest, mainly on the left side. You must have been missing me. Does she not take care of you like how I used to? Does she not put your clothes out on the bed while you are in the shower so you don’t have to fish through the cupboard? Does she not prepare breakfast for you before you have to leave for work? Does she even know that you love to eat vegetable-cheese omelette in the breakfast? Does she know that you are allergic to any kind of household work? Does she love you the way I do?

You remember when the first time we moved in together, you told me to never toast bread in the toaster for you. You always liked to make toasts on the pan. I would grease the pan with butter and then spread butter on both sides of the bread and make a golden brown toast for you. You would get annoyed if the corners of the toast were burnt but when I would offer to make another one, you’d always refuse and tell me that you enjoy the crispy corners. I would smile to myself and think that you were the most terrible liar I knew. Over the time, I learnt that if I had burnt the toast, I should make a new one without asking you. You were all about formalities although eventually you would agree for what you want but formalities were necessary in your book of code and conduct. You had to pretend to care to make me feel good and once you were done making me feel special, you’d be like, ‘You’re the wife, know your role.’ I could never stop laughing after that.

The omelette was your favorite in the breakfast (of course with lots of chopped green chillies and red chilli flakes). You always liked it if I would not break the omelette on the pan while flipping it. With time, I mastered that art and I thought of myself as the best omelette chef in the world. You loved my cooking. When I would bring our breakfast in the room; you would once in a while surprise me with a clean and tidy bed. You knew I had a thing for the bed. I always wanted the bed to be made and be clean and tidy. However, you wouldn’t always do it. Your idea was that when I expected it, it shouldn’t be done but when I didn’t; you would make the bed. Your inconsistency and spontaneity always caught me. I remember how you used to look at my disappointed face when the bed was not made and to tease me further, you would put your arms around me from behind, giggle and whisper in my ear that you love to surprise me and watch my expressions. I wonder how we knew each other so well. I wonder how you could ever leave when you told me you saw your God in me.

I loved those times even better when you’d have to go early to work and then return by mid-day. I always liked to wake up with you and see you off (maybe that’s why you always told me that I was the perfect wife-material). When you had to go early, you preferred drinking juice instead of eating breakfast in the morning. However, when it was time for you to return after few hours, I would prepare breakfast for you. I loved to wait on you and would always be looking for you from our apartment’s window (imagine me and my race: kitchen and room, kitchen and room – Such a restless soul). Usually, you’d have the key of the apartment so when you would return; you wouldn’t go to the room (to keep your bag and stuff) or use the toilet (even though sometimes you had to use the toilet very bad because you didn’t like to use public toilets) but you would straight away come to the kitchen, hug me from behind and kiss my mouth. That was your routine. Sometimes, you would be running to the toilet after kissing me to get relieved but the kiss was necessary before anything. It was amazing how I would forget to kiss you at times before leaving the house but you would never forget to kiss my mouth. Do you ever wonder how it would feel to kiss me again? Do you ever wonder how my mouth will taste now — Heartache Berry or Emotional Cherry?

You were very self-conscious about your bad breath, even with me. You had to mouthwash before going to bed every night. Although, you couldn’t ever escape it completely because when you’d wake up and kiss my mouth unconsciously after wishing me a good morning in the bed, it was always too late for you to realize that you have kissed me without brushing your teeth or using mouthwash. I want to confess something today: I loved to kiss you better in the morning than in the night.

Every morning, I wake up with a part of you: sometimes your kiss and sometimes your scent; sometimes the hollow spaces in my heart that your absence fills and sometimes with your picture in my hand. Now that I have written this; I know why I woke up with a pain in my chest today. I might have missed on some part of you this morning and my heart couldn’t allow that injustice with you and your memories.

The flavor of love,
Is it vanilla or chocolate?
The cravings in love,
Are they bitter or sweet?
All that I know about love,
It begins and ends with you,
It’s the flavor of your tongue,
The scent of your body,
The sound of your voice,
The touch of your hand,
The sight of your utmost beauty.

Is Your Soul Worth A Look?


My soul feels uncomfortable in its very own body. I wonder if I am a disappointing it or choking its voice. It doesn’t communicate with me anymore in the way it used to before. Is it that I am not having sufficient solitude to entertain it? Am I embracing life that will yield only worldly pleasures or am I preparing for Hereafter?

I like to look good, who doesn’t? Perhaps, if not good, then at least presentable. Does looking good serve the reason of my existence? Should I be worried about my physical appearance or the appearance of my spirit? If I came face to face with it someday, will I be able to recognise it. Mirror is my best friend, I love to watch the young woman I am growing into but do I have the courage to watch the reflection of my soul in the mirror? I am always posing for a good picture if somebody flashes their camera in my face. This is the age of ‘Selfie’ – one can hold their cellular phone to their face and capture an incredible shot. I will like to see a ‘Selfie’ of my soul. I am told beauty lies within then why this world is chasing the material beauty that is unsustainable; something that is destined to be destroyed.

We are the nation of fools. We blindly follow. ‘Fuck’ is a casual word for adolescents; if they use it then they think they sound very modern. Another very common word, ‘Bitch’; everything can be described in today’s world with the help of these two words by people around me. Of course, there are exceptions to these cases; hence none of the subject should be taken personally. When will we open eyes and realise it is already too late to undo the damage we have caused to this beautiful planet? When will we stop bullying that quiet girl in the corner of the classroom? When will we stop this disease of Racism from corroding our unity? When will we stop hating if our hearts are capable to love abundantly? I ask this 5-year-old boy to draw a heart. He doesn’t draw the complicated biological heart with veins and blood streams but he takes out his red crayon to draw a gigantic ‘lovely’ heart on an A-4 sheet and then colour it all red. He is innocent and doesn’t know how our hearts have blackened over the years. Without any proof, you call Muslims terrorists. Without any knowledge of their Holy Book, you accuse their religion of preaching hate and war. If terrorists in this world give a bad name to Jihad, did you ever take the initiative to ‘Google’ the word ‘Jihad’? No! You didn’t because you are happy with what Media is feeding you with. You are contented to be a blind-follower. Then why don’t you invite Zombies over and let them take your brains? At least, somebody will get fed.

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For a second, I thought I lost you. Your fingers let go of my hand and your pulse plays hide and seek with me. Your eyes are shut and your face is calm as if angels have already arrived. Suddenly, I hear you mumbling..

‘Mitsy, please don’t leave me‘.

I don’t know what to do, I feel powerless, as if I am shackled in chains of self destruction. How can I let you go when you have asked me not to?

‘Darling, I am right here’, I whispered.

You hold my hand as tightly as you can but I feel nothing. Your eyes are teary but you wouldn’t say a word. Of course, you and your feminine strength! But I know, beneath this Iron Lady of mine, there is my little chunky bear who is crying and hurting and I cannot do anything about it.

‘You ate anything?’, you struggled to speak.

‘Shush, don’t you speak! You worry too much’, I smiled.

I vowed to you on our wedding day that I will be there by your side forever and will catch every one of your teardrop before it lands on your cheek. Now for the first time I have failed to fulfil my vow. As I see a teardrop moistening your cheek, I scoop it gently with my finger before it dissolves in your skin. I feel like a criminal in my own body. You are not supposed to break like this. One after the other, each day is draining you out and as much as I want to take you away from all this, I cannot. It’s difficult to believe that humans like us can become this vulnerable and incapable that we have to give up to nobody but ourselves – our very own body.

I feel sick to my stomach watching these doctors fiddle with your body like a mechanic would with an automobile. I am watching you while these doctors are trying to understand your body. Your body is complex and functions differently than mine. It is attacked by those microscopic things called germs. As a child, I always thought of these germs as a creation of the imagination of Science. Perhaps, now I stand corrected. Doctors tell me that the germs attacking you are not ordinary germs we might be affected by if we don’t take care of our hygiene. Instead they are pretty dangerous; deadly enough to change the will of your body. Now, as your body and germs fight as one, so must our spirits in this battle for life.

While these doctors are trying to do their job, you are peaceful like angels have taken you away from me. For a second I think I have lost you all over again but it’s the story of my life. Your disease is draining the life out of your system and watching you come and go is draining mine.

Beyond Betrayal

I surrender to the voice of your heart; Hold me tight before the good tear us apart!

I surrender to the voice of your heart;
Hold me tight till death do us part!

I am tired of pretending that everything is fine;
There are deep scars behind this smile of mine.
I am over-thinking and playing with insanity in my head;
I am wide awake but my body is sleeping instead.
“I want to talk it out”, you screamed;
I stayed quiet and guide you through my thoughts as it seemed.
You penetrate through the cells of my mind;
My body’s alert with its defense guarded in case you’re left behind.
As my system senses an intruder within;
It shuts down immediately before it could sin.
I hear your voice echoing in my brain;
As my body experiences shock and strain.
My immune system is ashamed and has no other choice;
My body is already losing its voice.
What about my heart; will it stop beating?
Will you be satisfied now that finally God and I will be meeting?
Now that I know my body betrayed me;
Destined to be dead, destined to be free.


Seeing is not believing,
Believing is not feeling.

As I heard him declaring his departure

He shot an arrow as miraculously as an archer

Listening to his bizarre words, I was on my knees

Possessed no strength to hear, smell, touch or see

I watched him parting in the dark rainy night

Wishing a final goodbye with a vivid smile radiating light

I strolled home single-handedly weeping and crying

His words stuttered in my mind – my tears complying

My mum awaiting me at the home’s door

Disguising the ache, the veil of bliss that I wore

She asked me where was I?

I sighed and told her a lie

How can I tell her it was a lad?

Who deceived and took everything I had?

My numb body directing my senses to the way to my room

Thoughts ruled my mind and soul – this appalling doom

I cursed myself for being in love as a dope

There was no rainbow after this rain, no bliss and no hope

He left me for the sake he was done

Likewise, he is going to find another one

He is a traitor, a betrayer and a player

Thus ruled my heart for an eternity as a mayor

Depression and distress was now the food to my soul

I salute him for his significant triumph to attain his desired goal

One day when no one was in the house

I clasped a knife due to that louse

To Be Continued…

Betrayal – Part I

Beyond The Horizon

Rise with the SUN everyday with new HOPE! Hope is a motivational FORCE!

Every second I dream to dream,
Days of joy preserved, but it seems.
The heavenly body scattered as golden streams,
Illuminating the world with its endless beams.

No wonders, if it shone lastly,
Playing hide and seek, as it does deliberately.
Dressed in a yellow garb, clad in orange blazers virtuously,
Stroking the soil, departing hastily.

Feeble hands tracing its path,
Thou gallant chivalrous grin that lasts.
Rising from the heavens with the tender warmth,
Pacing its way beyond the thoughts, indeed so fast.

Enwrapped in the gracious vesture of gold,
Benevolent and malicious at once in a mold.
Turning breathless in eventide, gradually losing the hold,
Unfolding the secrets of dark and cold. 

The glorious illumination executed by thee,
Offending the obscurity, pursuing the glee.
Commemorating the incarnation, dangers flee,
Rejoicing the existence of another day to be.

Eccentric Voyage Of Life

The feather thus soft, though caresses me hard,
My life is short but the expedition of million yards.

My body’s burly, how about its strength?
Come; get in my shoes to sense the weariness in length.

Rather I supplicate pardon at your doors, my Lord,
My attire’s worn out, my body gashed, stabbing my sins with your sword.

My blood is yellow as that of piddle,
Flowing to signify my sins, concealed as a riddle.

Why am I not apprehending my fault?
Why am I succumbing in this fatal vault?

Halter of a stallion, clasped in my hands,
As fast as I ride, endeavoring to conquer the productive lands.

My dreams are shallow, my heart bears a dark hole,
My soul persuades me to accomplish the past of my role.

My conjectures fail, defeat embraces me in a glance,
However I desire to see the colossal tower for my lost radiance.

Abiding the affliction, my bleeding feet propels the ground back,
The road is smooth but the audacity I lack.

Peace cuddles my soul, love sows new seeds,
Almighty is here to secure me, blessing me with the wisdom of His creed.

My lips are parched, my gaze standstill,
Is this The Glory Of Life I seek everywhere- desserts, forests and hills?

The body slackens its burden, I’m in trance,
Presence of my Almighty, craving every single opportunity for His glance.

My soul enlightens accounting the Heavens,
His commands are my constitution, His contentment my goal.




Tear Drops

Cry until happiness embraces the swollen eyes

The reflection unseen,
Craving a cup of caffeine. 

Red swollen face and the rolling tears,
To tug the outburst within revealing fears. 

The dark starry night thus so long,
Rumbling words tuning into a rhymed song.

The alcohol defy to tempt insanity,
The roller coaster of life betrays humanity.

My body’s numb and strength fatal,
Love rescues my conscience unstable.

Panic strangles the mystery,
Tear drops narrate their history.

The hasty breaths release the firm grip,
The grievous setback attempts to make a flip.

The calmness pleads the hustle bustle to take control,
Happiness forgives sorrow for its vicious role.

Endurance of tear drops uphold a smile,
The enchanting air heals the wounds in a while.





Incredible’s Credibility

Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all 

“Once it happened that I was….”

Laura was interrupted by her only little angelic daughter Mary while she was communicating with one of her million fans in the same book shop; where masses have awaited her arrival from a long time since her last book broke the records claiming to be a BESTSELLER with 100,000 copies sold across the world in no time. Everyone wanted to catch a single glimpse of this beautiful saintly lady whose age was all a mystery for the exquisite world but the light lines across her cheeks and under her eyes was evident enough for her not-so-far OLD AGE prepared to embrace her anytime from now. Laura, a journalist and a columnist, working for a well known newspaper in Boston loved to share her world with her readers and so her exclusive attempt on scratching her heart out on paper in the form of a book of 472 pages was proved to be a right decision for a boost up in her career.

”Mum, can I please have your sign too?” Laura laughed her heart out and managed to convince her little angel on the matter of fact if it was okay for her to sign Mary’s home lesson diary once they drove back to home. Lately, after spending an hour or two in the same place in between her admirers, she returned back home, earlier than expected. She possessed warmth and affection for her family and home equal to that of her career and profession. She mastered the skills to balance everything in life hand in hand; there was nothing at all where her expertise had failed. Simply, Laura was a versatile woman who knew she had to jog in the morning, work out in the evening, be punctual at work, respond to her fans in due time, perform house chores and give all her remaining valuable time in the proper upbringing of the little Laura growing up under her nose. The sole reason why her home was yet a home, though being run by a celebrity was, her ultimate struggle to place her family before her promising future. This was the single handed answer to the bliss prevailing in her cozy abode.

She overlooked the lush green plains and vigilantly observed the sun ruling each and every bit of the land bathing the world with its dazzling ray beams addressing the mass about the functional importance of hope in life; which can be bitter or sweet simultaneously. The blue sky appeared like the protecting shield for Mother Earth, the squeaking birds seemed like speaking a valid language which could be deciphered by her and the world felt contracted as if nothing exists but only her home in space where she have to live isolated from the world till eternity. Her imaginary world was erupted once at a sudden when memories broke off in between leaving her body numb and mind hysterical, the past shook her from head to toe which reminded her of the accident that ruined her world partly, snatching away her finest possession and blessing in a heartbeat. She knew that she could never see him again and that they will now meet in Heaven only but there was dark side of her that regretted his departure from this universe leaving her forlorn and bare handed. Laura was thrown back in the present from those brutal memories that haunted her every now and then when she found herself trembling. She moved away from the window and seated herself in an arm chair soothing her pulse so as to regain the peace of mind. Laura, though missed her husband, but at the same time was thankful to Almighty for the everlasting sign of her husband in the form of Mary, she could still feel him compelling her to pursue the path of her desires. Laura sensed anxiety, uneasiness, stress and strain as if something worse was to be happening in near future. She neglected the uprising discomfort ruining her peace of mind and opted to meander more independently leafing through the GOLDEN REGISTERS, recalling her good times and bad times with him. Suddenly her heartbeat quickened and her racing heart shot for the moon when she realized why she was missing him so much. It was HIS day, his birthday, the day when his mother held him in her arms for the first time caressing and stroking him, realizing the gem in her hands she was blessed with. The tranquility and harmony in the room entertained her with his invisible presence, she could feel his hands over hers encouraging her to follow the same pathway leading to the achievement of the desired dreams, she dreamt as an adolescent. She could feel his gaze upon her encouraging her solace splendor, she could feel his lips on her ear lobe whispering how much he loved her and will continue to until FOREVER.

”Mum, mum, mum!!! Are you listening to me?”, Marry cried on the top of her voice.

Laura was set back from the fast track drive of delusion when her daughter applied brakes to the rushing memories dissolving her in the solution of PAST. She smiled when she saw Mary in front of her, the little reporter she had in her home who bombarded her with plenty of questions in a bit of every second.

”Mum, what do you think more often?”

Laura shifted in bed, sitting with an upright posture so that Mary could rest her head in her welcoming lap. Laura stroked her hair trying to hide her trembling hands which merely expressed her distressed state and the inexorable war with her delusions even now, with Mary around her.

”Honey, mum have to think about everything; like you think about school, mum have to think about various things at a time”, Laura said gently.

”But mom, I don’t have to stand by my window to think about school”, Mary answered instantaneously. Laura faked a smile and kissed Mary on her forehead.

”When you will reach my age, these fields will attract you more than a couple of Barbie dolls and stuff toys in your room.”

”Mum, when you were in school, were you a lot famous like today?” Mary asked innocently adjusting herself in the bed.

Laura wondered how her 9 year old daughter makes her speechless with every other question more startling than the previous one.

”No baby, instead I never had friends. No one liked to be around me”, Laura blurted out absently.

”Mum, were they jealous that how you will become a celebrity one day?”

”Hons, its mum’s turn now! How can you frame such questions that relate me to…….”

Before Laura could complete her sentence, her cell phone beeped indicating a text message that reminded her how she had to go to a party today that was kept by her colleagues to celebrate her recent success, the award she got as a best columnist from The Times OF Boston.

”Come on baby, it is time for you to go to bed. You can continue your interview tomorrow, on the way to school, madam”, Laura remarked sarcastically.

This time, both of them laughed hard until they gave up in Mary’s bed where Laura hummed a lullaby and Mary was asleep in the matter of few minutes. Laura wore stunning black attire and just after few minutes she was found in her garage opening the door of the driver seat of her Mercedes and pulling the car on the street and driving all the way to The Resort, the venue of the party!

Apparently, she appeared to be in the state of mere ecstasy but behind the curtains was an explicit sorrow that no one can feel or see except of herself. She felt doomed at times when she had to believe that the man, who vowed to keep her happy for lifetime on 10th February 2001 (their wedding day) was no more in this world to keep the promise he made 11 years back, he was no more to uplift her in the difficult times instead he left her in the midst of life to struggle for owning bliss when she knew that happiness would never open its arms to embrace her cause she had abandoned that path a long time before. She wandered wildly in every bit of her head to explore the reason for the flabby smile she needed to paint on her lips for the world; no one realized how exhausted she was to keep faking the same smile when underneath the thorns clutched her firmly that she succumbed every incoming breath because her heart and soul always contradicted with each other, she was deceiving the entire WORLD.

However, lost in her own world, she lost the control over the convertible and her vision blurred. Within a minute, she had no control over herself as well. Her clammy hands went numb, her legs were trembling and tears were streaming down her eyes. She didn’t stop DRIVING. This time, everything vanished; she did not want to regain her senses and Almighty listened to her. It was very late this time when she realized that her convertible had hit the trunk of a huge tree and blood splashed coloring the windshield red. The bonnet was smashed and the car was totally wrecked from the front, she didn’t lose her conscience by that time. Soon enough she heard a BANG and was thrown out of the car. This warrior lady was still breathing in spite of her face being caked with blood and her dress being all drenched in the same fluid. She smiled, this time genuinely. May be this time, she could see the angels along with Adam. May be this time, she knew she will attain eternal happiness. Laura felt her soul descending for the astral journey when she finally voice her thoughts huffing and puffing, smiling elegantly,

”Thank you, Thank you for making things easier for ME.”

”Granny, did she die?”, John broke the silence.

”Well, I told you the whole story, now you have to think about it dear.”, granny responded sleepily.

Granny walks out of the room, leaving John with Laura’s baffling words echoing in his head which leads him to end up in bed dreaming about a mysterious beginning again, that will be made into a story by granny the following night.