Image

Why are we questioned upon Love

   Why are We questioned upon Love   Two scenes, two people, together, having a private moment, both in public, in front of thousands of people, but one of them is looked with disgust, while the other looked and utterly ignored.

      One where two people are having a fight, a man and a woman are having a heated argument, the man shouting at her so loudly, while she, crying and trying to convince him by trying to hold his hands while he pushes her each time she attempts, a little love in her eyes with even more tears. She tries to convince and calm him, now with even more love and trembling voice, while he is almost on the verge of hitting her in public. Everybody sees this, some look at this and feel shameful about it, some talk about it, some comment on the man’s bad character, some about his upbringing, some comment upon how the woman must be wrong, some conclude loudly that she must need man’s money too much to face all this, some turn a blind-eye. But nobody stops them and ask them both to calm down. Why nobody has the courage to go to him and ask to behave well with a woman. Why nobody goes to the woman and makes her realise that she’s being undervalued when she might mean the world to someone unlike him who humiliates her, who doesn’t value her love. Why nobody goes to the man and warns him that no situation or relation of his with the lady justifies his shouting at her like this publically or even privately. Not even One!

Why are we questioned on loce

    One where two people are having a lovey-dovey moment, they hold each other’s hand just like a gold medallist who would hold his medal, in a proud and tender way. They look each other in their eyes, not caring for the world, forgetting everybody, forgetting life’s burden, forgetting every day’s hustle. To them, the moments of being together mean the most. Love gives them the power to face everything else again with courage, they want to believe in their dreams, happiness again. Both share a hug and a peck on the lips. A hug is the best way to show your love to your partner, it makes you directly connected to them, you feel their heartbeat and they feel yours. When you feel their heartbeat, the satisfaction of this being for you is a bliss, you know the person is there for you. In a world full of Money & Struggle, a beautiful thing such as a hug is free but still so priceless. Even Science has researches in favour of the amazing benefits of Hug, it releases Happiness Chemicals. A peck, it’s more than a gentle touch that two lips share, it’s a reflection of the love between them, it’s a warm greeting that two souls make, a meaningful kiss is more than a bodily pleasure, you can feel millions of fireflies in your head when that happens. When two people are in love, they are so happy and satisfied in their minds, their partner’s presence makes them happy, they want to look after them more than they would take care of themselves, every decision is made by keeping the partner’s happiness in mind, they want to love them even more, they want to live with them, a life full of ecstasy that relieves them from the thought of being lonely. Anyway, the partners share a kiss and a hug publically, for people who would value love might smile at such an instance and would directly start thinking of their own beloved, but most folks can’t chuck other’s happiness quite well. People start seeing this thing with disgust just like the fight scenario but this time, they won’t just sit in the backseat of the car, 7 on 10 would judge their characters, 8 on 10 would stare, 8 on 10 would definitely talk about the girl being shameless, 5 on 10 might call her a hoe, 2 on 10 might get aroused and stare them constantly to make them feel uncomfortable by imagining dirty things being honest, lastly, the most courageous ones, 3 or 4 on 10 will be ready with their snappy words to utter in a very sharp tone, the moment they get to speak, they’ll intrude the couple’s privacy and yell at them for being so shameless or they might start giving them moral values’ lectures. The problem with both is that- “The Couples don’t need any body’s advice.” But such advices are free everywhere around the globe.

     So, nobody was there to help a couple fighting seriously but people intrude when they absolutely should have had not. A strong emotion called Hatred is being overestimated than the stronger emotion. Why?

     Why do people want to be nosey-parkers in the matters of love but not when two people have a fight? Why the Love is perceived so low in the minds of millions’? Why has Love between two people to be questioned while the Hatred ignored? Why do people think they have the right to irrupt between lovers? Why do people think they don’t have the right to help them when the two are fighting? Why PDA and crime both lead to Jail? Is Love a Crime? Ask yourself these questions and answer to yourself and your conscience.

   I don’t find people’s fault in this, the fault is in the mindset & mentality they have, the outlook they have been having, the things they have been seeing in their culture and sub-consciously an acceptance has been generated. The Acceptance of the wrong as being the sole truth has made them blind, blind enough to perceive their beliefs into the truth.

  But can we not grow more? Can we not unlearn? I request us all to learn new perspectives because there’s no better time than now. The Fittest survives and to survive you must compromise, sacrifice, and understand other beings as well.

Image

It Lingered on (Erotic)

It lingered on, is it the melody of the ‘Marooned’ or the rhythm of his soul. I just know it has lingered on. It hit him, my naked body and the weed. It lingered on, the taste of his lips and the fragrance of his soul.

it lingeredonControlled, gentlemanly, I had seen him always but a wild lion he was today. He smoked the fire just once, but why we both were in a trance, an ecstasy we never reached before. Was it the music, day or the weed, how could he be so unimaginably passionate, soft but still rough, high but still more high on me. He calls me his drug, but today I was so high on him.

His lips, his hands moved as they were following the script of a passionate film, maybe which God was directing. He kept his eyes closed all the time and in his mind he roamed to galaxies with me, I couldn’t resist seeing him today even for a second. He was in search of a new pleasure, and I was sure we will, by feeling the ardent desire in both of us. He seemed to me like my very small baby.

It began with our lips, then his tongue couldn’t stop to reach my bottoms. It reached and it found a home there. I didn’t imagine his tongue could play there for so long like a stubborn child who refuses to sleep without his toy. It is a conundrum of various fears in a child that I could see in him today. Fear of losing the toy, fear of losing the content the toy gives, the fear of never finding this feeling, of belongingness. Like a toy, his body found a refuge in mine today and likewise my body did too.

He smoked the joint with his eyes closed, just like he would suck my nipples and blew it out just like he had blown me at the bottoms. The smoke from his mouth looked like a cloud, the cloud that took us both into a flight. A flight you don’t need any money, or ticket to take, but need passion in your soul, love in your heart, and care in your eyes.

He smoked it all and still didn’t dare to open his eyes. He then removed his pants and I saw in him a lion who just wanted his lioness and no tag of ‘King’ or no jungle to rule. He took my top off, grabbed my hands, my waist, and threw me on bed, removed my jeans and there he was. He pounded and began sucking my breasts like a baby who needs them and a husband who owns them, wants them.

He rubbed his beard on every inch of my skin, my cheek, my lips, my breast, navel, thighs, feet and especially my pubic area. His beard, so hard and rough but I was craving for more of it on my soft body.

His being hard for me and not for the lust of my body sweeps me off my feet every time when we’re naked. Our bodies seek pleasures, but his body demands to deliver the ecstasy first and then moans till the orgasm.

He then grabbed and pulled my hair like a bird who thought those were his wings, grabbed my butt from the sides and took me over him so intensely.

My hands on his head, breast jumping up and down vigorously over his face, and he moved me to and fro not skipping a beat of his own super-fast melody.

He continued moving so fast until I asked him to stop because the pleasure took me to a new world. But he was a stubborn lion, he rolled me and got me on my knees and then kept pushing in and out while we both moaned, in pain or pleasure, we both don’t know. Our moans were so subtle and intense, and with each thrust grew louder.

Right then his thrusting speed increased, and then slowly faded while we reached our highs, our orgasms with moans and whines. He stopped a few seconds after that while still in the same position.

And then he began to roll me, he rolled me into millions of positions, like we were two yarns of threads and he wanted to tangle them in a way that no one could differentiate them into two. We entangled our limbs and lips, and our whole body was tasting each other from all the places. We rolled each other, sometimes he won the top, and gave me the rewards by kissing me uncontrollably and then I also fought to be on top, to let my fingers and nails dance on his back and his hips. The hips that move so zealously to find the trance only which we hear and meditate at.

We entwined our hands, legs, hearts in a want to be as one as our souls are, and twisted and turned for hours and got one just like two different colors dropped in a glass of water. Both the colors are beautiful but trust the other color and mix in it so well to make a new color which dilutes the individuality of both the colors and makes a more unique and beautiful shade in a sense that even hopeless lovers fail to see sometimes.

While all the movements and our bodies’ dance, he sobbed in my arms, he held me so tightly today, I could feel his heart in my body, that’s how close we were.

He was sobbing, moaning while saying he never wants to open his eyes and loosen up his arms today. I wished the same. I asked him how he was feeling while he was so entranced in the movements and sobbing like my small baby, to which he said—and I wish that end comes just like this. I got the emotions—he just wanted to never do anything other than this even till the last breath of ours. I felt purely the same.

We felt so complete today. I was constantly moaning and also cried when he was thrusting me from behind, there was this spark that I felt in my body. I couldn’t just thank God enough for helping us find each other and how we could feel something so beautiful in these melodious movements which people call bodily pleasures. When I could sense something beyond that I cried while his movements began to fade as we had orgasms together—one had through his body, I had through my mind. He felt complete, I felt the same.

After hours of this beautiful time, we slept in each other’s arms, we both did, I was half conscious, half comfortably asleep. My half consciousness could just make me feel the warmth of his soft body and my comfort in sleep was just because of the security I had in his arms.

I just didn’t want to wake up, neither did he want, we had to, though. We both loved every second of the day spent together, in each other’s arms. We found our one color today and we were one after seeing that beautiful color. We became one, all the feelings diluted to create just a small world of ours which was a vast universe in itself but just our universe.

Image

Nothing can measure distance b/w Two Hearts

Two Hearts' Distance1

‘She’ll always hate me, no matter what I do, There’s no mistake this love is gone’. This song is freaking the hell out of me right now. I can relate to the song after a little fight I had with him and now I have the fear of losing him.

We do have fight sometimes, just like normal couples. In the arguments, I lose myself in anger and yell at him. When I’m angry, I lose my ability to think clearly, cognitively. I get infuriated when somebody either interrupts me or if he doesn’t listen to me or misinterpret me. It freaks the hell out of me.

In our arguments, I yell and get crazy and at the end I ask him to leave. And after he’s gone I try to calm myself, I understand things better also with a touch of fear to lose him forever. But at least this saves further heated arguments.

Two Hearts' Distance

 

Today too was not different to the scenario I just told u about. We had a fight because he didn’t answer to me when I was questioning him. I lost my calm and obviously asked him to leave. But after he was gone, I got crazier. We boarded the same train to the way back home. We were in the same compartment of the train, he was at a distance from me, but still in my sight. I was just seeing him, and wanted him to look at me but he was controlling his anger too. And then he looked at me, we constantly stared each other from the distance, we let out eyes talk that time. My anger was gone. Then, it was his station so he had to de-board so we said byes. I sometimes shout at him but always I get filled with guilt. My anger gets me crazy but I don’t love him any less. I’m glad he understands this. After he was gone off the train I was missing him and also thinking about the fight, the distance, the love.

 It got me wondering how odd is this? How quaint this feeling of love is? I made a conclusion that distance between two hearts is unfathomable. Contrary to the distance between two places, which can be gauged with the help of tools, scales, anything. Two places will always have a constant distance irrespective of anything but measuring distance between two hearts is just not a piece of cake. You just can’t measure it. It doesn’t care for the geographical longitudes, latitudes, it’s beyond scientific calculations, beyond the horizon of eyes.

They can be on the opposite ends of the world but still close in each other’s hearts or in the same room totally strangers. Not glancing, not caring of the utter existence.

That is the beauty of Love. No distance can either separate it or can reinforce it. Love is the strangest yet the most beautiful feeling in the world.

Image

Million times when I’ll be Right…

Million Times When I'll be right (2)There’s gonna be Million times when I’ll be right, and millions when I’ll be wrong.

But the constant should be you, I can celebrate being right and celebrate being wrong equally proud if it’s you by my side.

If your hands are there to hold me in the times of not just my triumph but my defeat, there’s nothing more that I’m going to ask for.

Because Victory or Defeat, they’re temporary. You are my permanent, my constant Love.

Image

What’s her Identity?

Isunday don’t believe in truth anymore; I believe everything is relative.  Nothing is absolute and perfect as the ‘change’ itself.

My next words are not an article, essay or a letter but a set of questions. I spend my day enjoying the moments but my nights are mostly spent sleepless. I’m nothing but an entangled human.

I’m confused between myself and my nature, my behavior and my identity. Yes, they’re all very different and they’ve put me in an abysmal confusion.

I’m at a point where I can decide what to eat, cook, buy, where to go, whom to befriend, what to say, all the things a normal person does. But the thing I can’t make heads or tails about is my own-self.

I’m someone’s Daughter—
Obedient, stubborn, innocent, lovable

I’m someone’s Sister—
Younger, naive, responsible

I’m someone’s Wife—
Compassionate, selfless, devoted

I’m someone’s Mother—
Affectionate, forgiving, teacher

I’m someone’s Friend—
Understanding, humorous, trustworthy

I’m someone’s relative, someone’s employee, someone’s colleague—
Agreeable, professional, cordial.

But all these are just the roles that I play each day. I behave well with all, kith and kin, acquaintances and even strangers. That’s my nature and my behavior. But sometimes I want to shout out loud, make my points, express my desires but the etiquettes get in the way of my nature all the time. My nature is to flow; the etiquettes are the hindrance.

And then after the role-playing each day, I’m the one who’s perplexed each night. “What’s my true identity”—This question never leaves my mind.

But What’s my true identity? Is it when I’m happy or when I’m sad, is it when I’m angry or when I’m mad, is it when I’m in love with my family or agitated by them, running for some solo time just to be calm. Is it when I’m with my husband making love to him, or with my children, is it when I’m spending time with my mother, fighting with my siblings, or chatting with my colleagues? Is it what I show or what I hide? Is it a Book no one cares to read but all love to display?

Who am I? Is it my identity or my nature or just a name of a relationship I am tied in?

Is my Identity connected with my body or a bare truth of my soul?

 

Image

My Heart is Beach…

GoSolo (4)My heart is Beach; your footsteps are all I have. The pretty shells, oysters, conchs that come to shores once in a while and then go back to ocean with the next wipe are our memories together. Memories that we made together, having little laughs every day.
There’s a thing about memories, they’re never good or bad, the situation makes them, similarly, these shells aren’t either bad or good, our being far is to blame.

GoSolo (6)Just like rivers meet, our hearts diffused to create this beautiful ocean of ours. And this ocean’s depth was my love for you. And like a magic trick, while my eyes just blinked, your heart left me. Because we were one ocean, weren’t we? Now the depth of the ocean is the deepness of my thoughts.

The eyes that saw you every time, that fixed the shape of you in every shadow, in every crowd. And these waves are my eyes, the rising and settling waves, which weep more often than not these days. Each tear, each wave whispers something in my ears-‘You’re gone, for better or for worse, but you’re definitely gone.’ These waves secretly wipe our names on the sand that we wrote together, the lyrics of the songs that we hummed together, and take the shells of our memories that we played with together from the shore.

I’m not happy, I’m not sad, I’m numb, just one of those I don’t care moods. These waves are taking the weights of my heart, the shells from this sand. At least, my waves won’t harm me, they’re loyal, and I know this.

Image

Isn’t Love a Universe in its own?

outer-space-stars-wallpapers-desktop-background

Do the galaxies, black holes really exist in space or are these imaginations of a hopeless lover? Maybe the universe is just a thought, the darkness and the shine a lie but a beautiful idea inspired from our living, our world is a universe in itself.

Everyone is like a planet; We all have our Moons but just one Sun. Our life, just like the planets, revolves around that one person who is our Sun, our reason of being. The Sun makes everything worth it.

The gravity of a Black hole is no way near the attraction of two lovers. Closing your eyes while them in your arm takes you to the darkest yet ‘Brightest’ galaxy. The galaxy that promises to keep one safe, far from any insecurity or vulnerability. The feeling of loving and being loved is so fulfilling, satisfying and calming.

The kind of attraction that can be seen in many juxtaposing forms. Sometimes, in the form of teenager’s first love- beautiful, rebellious, immature. The type that keeps them busy with each other all the time undistracted and unaffected by the world. Or Sometimes, an Adult’s Love- the Labyrinth love, that is fussy, clandestine, complicated yet a relaxing spa to the partners indeed. The love that enlivens the chaos-struck adults worried and burdened by their everyday lives.

Isn’t Love a Universe in its own?

Image

Her Bangles, a symbol of love or Colorful Handcuffs

qqbanglesBangles, colorful, tinted, with the magical tinkling sounds they produce. Who doesn’t love bangles? I know, almost we all do. How beautifully they adorn hands of a woman. Bangles are more than just an ornament in our culture. It’s a married woman’s pride, worn in her husband’s name. Husbands love the sounds, don’t they?

How romantic is the sight of a husband buying colorful bangles for his wife and adorning her hands by slipping the hues into her hands. Bangles are a sign of the love they share, the bond, the relationship they have nurtured.

But everything is transient, what if the wife loses her husband. She becomes a widow. Only a spouse knows how it feels to lose someone they’ve been living with for years, how it must feel to lose their addiction, their drug, their habit all at once. The Happy-Drug that was there for them every day ever since their matrimony, to listen to them, to help them in chores, to make love to them is forever gone. Every relationship is different but the degree of attachment is the same. They were attached to each other in everything. They couldn’t imagine their lives without the other and now one is alone. Only the Memories last. The loss is irreparable, unacceptable. The sympathetic family is there to try to condole her, shaken, they try their best to help her.

Losing someone physically is one thing, forgetting altogether is another!

The bangles that were the sign of her love, now a memory of her love are suddenly a bug in everybody’s eyes. The woman who’s too lost to even accept the damage is forced by the society to follow the norms made by them, norms that are too far from normalcy, totally inhumane, driven by blind believes, still existing without a single logic in them. The woman who hasn’t yet shed a tear in the grief, who is numb both physically and mentally. Rather than being given condolences and consoling, everybody eyes her colorful saree and the hues in her hands, and without a second thought break her bangles by forcefully grabbing her both hands and hit them together. BAM! *Bangles break*

It’s done to the woman who is still unconscious of what is happening around. Some broken pieces even pierce her hand and it bleeds. But few drops of blood can’t draw her attention when all her mind is focused on the want to have her husband back again.

Why did they do it? Could breaking her bangles make her forget her half-soul? Could it in anyway calm her? No, so why should they do it.

What if the woman doesn’t want to remove her colorful sarees and the bangles? And why should she want the otherwise? The sarees and the bangles are the last symbol of their memories. Yes, these little things have in them the part of their love’s soul, the things that were with them when they’re making memories in their lives, when they’re living together. The adorable Red Sarees that her husband gifted her and absolutely loved, and couldn’t keep her eyes off when she would wear them, the bangles in her hand, the tinkling of which always made him a little more in love with her than the last moment. How can she abandon them when they’ve in them her husband’s soul?

Also, she has been wearing them since their marriage, it has somehow become her identity. She wants to wear them. But after losing her spouse, everybody has their own thing to tell her, to shut her up, to impose something on her. They don’t allow her to wear anything colorful, and all her ornaments are snatched. The idea of love and relationship is not anywhere near to the concept that society is trying to indicate.

So only a married woman has the right to dress up, adorn beautiful sarees, bangles, and ornaments. Why can’t a widow still wear them when she wants to? So are these Bangles, a symbol of love or Colorful Handcuffs?

Yes, these are colorful handcuffs that help the society to classify a woman as sold or unsold property. The bangles that she wore thinking a symbol of her love were just in his name not their love. Because had they been a symbol of love, no one would force her to remove them after losing the spouse.

Image

Who’s a Bitch?

Who’s a Bitch?
Any women who has the liberty to take a decision,
Who can speak out for herself,
Who is opinionated,
Who can take a stand,
Who has the right to be with someone while hoping to find her Mr. Compatible Life partner,

pexels-photo-60289
Who has goals & gives them priority over others,
Who has a broad-mind & likewise broad-minded friends irrespective of their sex or their sexual orientation or color etc.
Who has her Me-Time, who does not let anybody take that from her. It’s her power, she’s the queen of that world in those moments.
Be the #Bitch.