Magic of Love

He comes closer,
Gently embracing her with the melody,
Of his soft soothing voice and the words,
That paint her the most exquisite pictures,
Tempting her to stay a little longer,
Every time she is about to leave,
So she savours the pleasure of his company,
Absorbing the beauty of their moment,
For this is the only place,
Where she is not afraid to fall,
‘Cause she believes in him,
Far more than she had ever believed in herself,
He relishes her silence and the smiles,
Her deep throaty laugh fills his mind,
Resonating from time to time to uplift and inspire him,
So he can scribble his heart away,
The simplicity of her soul and the patience of her heart,
Rejuvenate him in the times of strife,
For the rest of the world,
She is an unknown,
And he is content,
For he wants her for himself alone,
They fuse together so magnificently,
Like hydrogen unites with oxygen,
To give birth to water,
Together they blend into each other,
To give life to perfection,
And they would never know,
It’s not science but the magic of love,
Which is undeniably simple and stable.

She is the wonder woman who has by loving me unconditionally <3

She is the wonder woman who have me believing (up until now) that love is magical by loving me unconditionally ❤


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The Final Farewell

While he helped them say their final goodbyes, deep down he was not prepared for this unwanted farewell. His life has revolved around her and he became frantic imagining the world being so colorless and soulless without her presence by his side. Her eyes had shone brighter than the million stars lightening the gloomy sky.The searing pain seeped through his soul when he realized that her eyes would not be able to brighten his dark days ever again. Her warm summery smile had made his heart melt and his blood ran cold thinking that his heart would freeze without her heart-warming smiles. She had been there for him at each step of the way. She had not only taught him to tame the flight of his dreams but also the world of their reality. They had been deliriously happy together and it was unbelievable that she would decide to embark on a new journey without him.

He held her hand in his hand, kissing the fingertips but not for one second had he stopped praying for a miracle. He was crying his eyes out. He was not ashamed of his tears today because he was desperately waiting for their magic to seal the moment so they could stay together for eternity. Since the past forty-five minutes, he had sought various means to communicate with her: through his tears, the melody of his voice, the tranquility in his silence and the fire in his touch. His fingers had been interlaced with hers for the longest time and he hadn’t stopped mumbling in her ear but nothing seemed to be working. It killed him a thousand deaths for every second which brought them closer to the explosion of the ticking clock. It crushed his heart to see a part of him being taken away from him so ruthlessly but he couldn’t do much about it so he begged for mercy. He felt utterly powerless against the bullet of time. He was trying his best to stop her from abandoning his world and he wouldn’t give up until the very end.

She would never wake up again and machines wouldn’t be breathing for her anymore. However, they battled the last minute of their union with courage and strength that set an example for the soldiers in the war-zone.

He had lost more than a wife today — he had lost his soul.

That touch to make it all worthwhile <3

That touch to make it all worthwhile


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Drowning

When I saw you,
All I saw was guilt,
My past and all the mistakes,
Regrets and doubts that lay awake,
You are drowning,
The weight of lies on your shoulders,
Forbidding you to float,
For you have erred countless times,
Now is when you admit to your crimes,
You are drowning,
In the depth of the ocean,
You are on your own,
In the darkness of isolation,
Finding your way back,
To the world of devastation,
Your humble abode and where you belong,
You are drowning,
You are inhaling water,
You watch death approaching you,
Your thoughts seem to scatter,
You are screaming but your voice so muffled,
You want help but your spirit so unruffled,
You are drowning,
Your eyes began to close,
Your body began to froze,
The little I know about how it goes,
The window of hope barely visible,
The noise of silence only grows,
You are drowning,
With a fear of no tomorrow to be seen,
With a fear of turning off your life machine,
Dreading that there might be no light at the end of the tunnel,
Dreading that there might be no peace but only uninvited trouble,
You are drowning,
So will you ask for a second chance?
Will you ever want to live again?
Will you want to give in to this world’s trance?
Will you want for yourself the pleasure of pain?
You are drowning,
Don’t be scared of death for it’s merely a trailer,
Life has been killing you bit by bit every single day,
Don’t be scared of the ultimate failure,
There are times when it is inevitable to escape.

Diary of Nobody -VI-

Goodbyes and I get along very well — to an extent that I believe we are synonymous.

Once you told me: “Their loss if they don’t want to do anything with you. You are one of your very own kind — I don’t expect them to understand you.”

Now that you’ve said your last good-bye, what should I believe? That it’s your loss? That you didn’t understand me either? I don’t think so.

I was always a “misfit”. The society didn’t accept me for who I was. They wanted to mould me into somebody they would be pleased to interact with. I was not convinced to give myself up and I became a rebel. Being rebellious taught me a life-long lesson that I love to preach now: question everything (even an answer). It taught me the difference between right and wrong (something people don’t seem to understand for they are so busy blindly following the so-called ‘world trend’). They complained that I looked at things differently. They tried to silence me by bullying me. God knows how they felt about their failure after failure for I came stronger every time they made an aggressive move against me. They wanted to get rid of me and I made it my mission to ensure that they should never achieve their goal.

However, then you came along. Apparently, I was told that you liked me for me. You liked me for having a “voice” this world desperately needed. You liked me for having “questions” to challenge life on every step of my journey. You liked me for having an “aura” that was ever too visible. You liked me for having a compassionate “soul” that instantly connected with you. You liked me for my “smile” which in your opinion was evergreen. You always told me what you liked about me but how come you never stated one darn thing that led you to eventually dislike me? Was my “voice” too ground-breaking for you? Were my “questions” unanswerable and frustrating? Did my “aura” became invisible with time? Did my soul connected too much with you? How did my “evergreen smile” faded like an autumn breeze?

You had your mind and heart set on me and all you wanted was for me to make you the center of my world sooner or later. Why did you have to leave when all you ever wanted was in the palm of your hand? Or is it that I was always the “unwanted”?

I am bound to stitch,
The wounds we gave birth to,
I am bound to revive,
The dreams we shattered,
I am bound to adore,
The memories we shared together,
I am bound to live you,
For the rest of my life.

The Night

The night is the time,
When I can crawl out of bed,
Shut off the voices inside my head,
Escape the pain, grief and blinding lightness,
Seek refuge in the shade of darkness,
I feel the fire burning deep within,
Helping me be pure of sin,
I watch myself in the mirror,
Struggling to look beyond the apparent flaws,
Can my imperfections magically disappear?
The silence keeps me company,
I slowly drift off to sleep,
Before the dawn is beginning to peep,
So I can wake up again the following night,
Treat myself off the starry dark delight.

Monster

There lives a monster within me,
He doesn’t know that I can see,
He is ugly and beautiful,
He is foolish and wise,
He is a question and an answer,
He is dark and light,
Sometimes he leaves,
The other times he stays,
He is a truth and a lie,
He is loud and quiet,
He is a fact and fiction,
He is a loser and a winner,
Sometimes he is all the same,
The other times so different,
He is difficult and easy,
He is high and low,
He is safe and dangerous,
He is young and old,
Sometimes he stays calm,
The other times he is excited,
He is emotional and serious,
He is a part and whole,
He is depression and ecstasy,
He is bitter and sweet,
Sometimes he comes first,
Other times the last,
He is hungry for attention,
He yearns to be left alone,
He likes to play hide and seek,
He desires to be loved,
He cannot sleep in the night,
He cannot wake up at eight,
He is hungover a silly lover,
He is a pro at letting go,
He is an encyclopedia with all the answers,
He is an exam which cannot be passed,
He cries when he is happy,
He laughs at his own misery,
He is insecure and an egomaniac,
He is a thought,
He is a choice,
Sometimes he is called soul,
The other times inner-voice,
He is our reflection,
He is you and me.

I wish it was Chocolate Fudge Brownie but why not Cookies and Cream -- Sunday is a Funday!

I wish it was Chocolate Fudge Brownie but why not Cookies and Cream — Sunday is a Funday!


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Is Your Soul Worth A Look?

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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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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.

Beyond The Vision!

When I was a little girl, the world around me was like a bubble. I now think, if I would have popped my finger out of that bubble in those days, the world would have not been observed as a merry-go-round by me. A small girl who bombarded her parents with a “WHY”, “HOW” and “WHEN” frequently and who was fearless to burst the bubble and come face to face with the ruthless reality pertaining in the society; but Alas! The vindictive time, it always has a great timing! At the age of 4, this girl asked her teacher, “Ma’am, why can’t birds speak?” That day her teacher told her that every WHY in the world can not be answered and due to the undeveloped brain cells which failed to analyze the answer in the appropriate manner, that answer of the teacher was saved as a permanent file in ROM of her brain that could never be removed. Whenever, she faced a situation or a question and as soon as her brain used to prepare her for asking WHY due to the perplexity, the same stored file used to bang her head at the right moment reminding her of the teacher’s answer. She laid in her bed every night wondering how the sky is standing without pillars when no building can. She marveled how the sun shines so brightly when the moon was merely the opposite. She was bewildered when she questioned herself why the sea is so immense that she can’t see the ending spot. The perplexed questions ended every night with an exposure to the unexpected valley of dreams. Hence, that is the time when this 4 year old girl started coming out of the sealed bubble. She now wanted to be a colorful butterfly which can fly and be responsible for her very own flight.

Some of my many journals!

This girl started developing wings and the bubble was harmed every time her wings flapped at any instant. She lived in the world of her QUESTIONNAIRE. The questions, she kept to herself which were ultimately the reason for the quest to discover and explore beyond her knowledge. She wanted someone to hold up to her and answer her; she again faced hard time analyzing which medium could be the safest. Yeah, her wit clicked, why not her very own mother; but again that permanently stored answer of the teacher amplified her mystification and that is when she discovered that there exist a PAPER and a PENCIL that can be her best friend and unlike any other beings on this planet, their mouths will be forever sealed. She was amazed to discover such an innovative idea and at the age of 8, she started maintaining her very own registers. She did not want anyone to know about her thoughts regarding anything; she wanted those journals to be as personal as her body was to her. She was unaware of the fact that an eight year old doll would not be given sufficient privacy to survive and hence would be intruded more than once if the hidden registers came across the eyes of her guardians. She tried her level best to never let anybody know that she writes to release the burden off her shoulders; she carried those registers in her bag every time with an unpleasant fear of her thoughts becoming publicized.

Around the corner, this truth was not concealed for a very long time and she found her mother reading one of her private journal once she woke up from a very sound sleep. That was the first time she ever yelled at anybody. She was crying, she was blaming herself, she was regretting for choosing paper to be her best friend as it eventually showed its disloyalty. There was nothing confidential mentioned in those journals which could not be read by her mother but the very mutual thought of how untrustworthy even a non-living thing can be occupied her and this trauma didn’t end well. Her mother held her, caressed her, kissed her and embraced her collecting her entirely in her maternal arms where she sobbed for an eternity. She kept repeating the same line of how she hated herself. Within this phase, she realized one of her very good qualities that she doesn’t require an eternity to get over a mishap. Within two days, she was the same cheerful girl who lived in her own world with the same innocent heart building more question with every passing moment but now she did not have any best friend. At school, she was a quiet and shy girl who always succeeded in academics with a remarkable margin but showed no interest in any extra co-curricular activities. The time continued to pass by and taught her various lessons of life but she missed that unfaithful friend of hers – PAPER! The only thought that used to startle her was that why could she not forgive her best friend? After a year or so, she recovered and was friends with PAPER again. This time she wanted to be more aware of her mother not reading anything; she was now growing into an adolescent and the life was chasing her like she was a bone being chased by a starving dog. She continued filling sheets and sheets with her personal experiences, her daily affairs, how the world haunted her, how she wanted to be everything but not a wife (like her mother), how she wanted to explore the space and etc. The dreamy world was yet not over until 12, subsided with mature thoughts than her age-group. Even her dreamy world craved the meaning of life and the reason behind her existence. She often used to write about it when she entered into a very charming and alluring phase of any human’s life – TEENAGE!

Now this doll was 13; no more a doll indeed. She was a grown up girl who was ready to flap her wings open and explode the bubble confining her abilities. She flew swirling around the boundaries of life and exploded it with a charisma. Her teenage was abnormal or rather should I say it was normal because it was not the same boy-friends, drinks, clubs, pubs and dance floors that united her life and thrilled her but it was her escalating confidence that made her “UNIQUE” in the gatherings. Her parents were astounded themselves, she was paranormal with her brain grasping more than required for her age. She was no more a shy doll but a confident and stunning girl who could sway around with daffodils and make the universe dance on her finger tips. She turned out to be a debater where her teachers encouraged her to debate frequently to enhance her inborn skills with the weapon of experience. The paper remained her best friend throughout; though it was disloyal at times but she realized how her best friend could be someone else’s friend too. Her acquaintances called her arrogant, rude, she was blamed for her attitude when all she did was smile – her gleaming eyes smiled to their remarks. She was blessed with an enriched soul, all her job was to nourish it with plenty of resources in order to live up to what is expected of her by the world as well as Him.  

Let you soul be free like a flying bird because ETERNITY lives in there.

This girl is ordinary just like YOU. A compassionate soul living in everybody – the only difference between YOU and her is she listened and responded to her soul since the day it called out to her; she was accomplishing what she was asked for by her Almighty. This is a time to catch the right bus at the right station and listen to your blaring soul, let the questions seep your heart, get a medium to express yourself and immortal soul BUT be aware of the hazards and obstacles on your way because no accomplishment can be achieved without the audacity to try. Live every moment in a sacred way cause neither can you trust your breath nor your life – this little doll gave us the same message of how to never trust the voices you hear from your ears but trust the sole voice that you can hear from the ears of your heart and soul – the voice of Eternity. 

Betrayal (Part I)

Note: Since I was going through some of my old creations today, I thought of sharing this one of my heart-felt poetry which I wrote for my friend for her quick recovery after an awful accident that changed the course fo her life. This BALLAD will be divided into various parts as I am not in the will to post it without the element of curiosity. I have posted it before too on my old blog but many of my new friends haven’t been entertained so here you go with the first part – if you have read so re-enjoy and for fresh readers, *fingers crossed* (hope you like it).

Sometimes, my eye can betray me as well.

Whenever I think of you

I feel on me the dew

My hands sweat

My eyes become wet

Seeking around, finding someone

Who promised to be always by my side in the long run

I am struggling and fighting to recognize his voice

Lusting for the touch of his hands, smell of his body or my choice

My memories inundated with him only

Thus he left me forlorn and utterly lonely

He promised to build me the fountain of happiness

Money paid no heed, I loved his struggle effortless

He assured and reassured how he loved me the most

His confessions false, his existence reminiscent of a ghost

I was folly to think how he was the ONLY ONE for me

The reckless cheeriness and his ways responsible for my glee

One day he turned to me like a rock

Almost numb, my mindset shock

I wondered at his condition that day

My hand resting on his, consoling him to tell what he ought to say

He hesitated to proclaim his disappearance forever soon

He walked away leaving me under the blood dripping dark moon

To Be Continued…