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A Decision

pexels-photo-325520.jpegA decision can adversely affect your life. I’m having the side-effects truly. My physics class is happening, for my least interest. Having tried all ways to understand physics, now I just want to raise my hand to give up. Giving up is no wrong, sometimes it’s for good, because the truth is we all are no Einstein’s or Newton’s. We can be great personality in arts or maybe we could definitely do something in management or be it anything a musician or an actor or a scientist or a teacher or just a clerk. It doesn’t matter what as long as we can choose to be good at it. The job least matters; what matters most is happiness. Are you making most of it, are you enjoying your work, are you happy doing your job or regretting your job, your life?

The decision that effed your life; It’s not about who made the decision, you or someone else. A bad decision is just bad and the consequences are even worse. The regretful decisions in our life’s are mostly made by someone else. You can’t blame them too because they are your loved ones or maybe above you. But such things just scar the relation forever.

Sometimes I want to cry so bad, but I can’t even cry. I have gone emotionally numb. I have become a stone. But touch my heart, touch my soul, you’ll feel how bad n loud it’s crying. It’s really hurting.

“Regrets comes in all shapes and sizes. Some regrets for doing the wrong thing, some regret for making the wrong choices but the biggest regrets in life are for not being able to do something, for not getting a chance to walk even few steps to the road of your passion—something that you loved doing, could do for hours without any reward, money.

I know, not everybody who follow their passion get success, but the few steps are the success in itself, the journey makes it just worth it. These few steps give you what the million dollars won’t be able to give you. It keeps you alive. It gives you a reason to work on every morning and a chance to thank god for blessing you with an attempt to do the thing you felt strongly for.

People should always be asked— “what you wish to do rather than what you aim to do?”. As to what I see and feel, there’s a subtle difference and strangely even the person is unable to figure that out until he’s wasted some years trying to find a satisfaction in his aim while he left his passion considering it was just a hobby.

Suppose, a person wants to sing or dance maybe, it doesn’t matter if he’s an expert or sloppy. It’s just simple—he wants to do it, he likes it. But he aims to be an engineer or say doctor. our aims in life are often a result of some influence but our vocations are true. So ask yourself is it my passion, can I do it for the rest of my life, if I have enough money would I just do it?

Once in a life, they must be given a chance to do what they want to do. I know I’d never be able to do what I wished to do, and now I wish every morning, for a chance to try that later in my life.

Decisions are the inevitable part of life. they are like ‘The road not taken’, tough but you’ve got to take them anyway, without any judgment just follow your heart.

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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?

 

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My Inspiration to write was….

people-woman-hand-desk-6360My inspiration to write was that women in the Metro Coach, who was pondering too much. And, that guy who smiled at me in the hallway. Also, the boyfriend who kissed not just my lips but my soul. The girl who wanted to find her goals. The girl who was already a wanderer searching through her bits and pieces trying to find her hint of success. The old lady determined to create a company. Also, the Men, the proud misogynists, who pushed me to write for my gender. Especially, The Men who made me an un-Feministic Girl i.e. not just in favour of my gender but strongly against the biased women-haters. The Stereotypes that expected women to keep her eyes at the ground in front of her husband. The stranger who saw through my eyes. The stranger who asked my reason of existence in my commute to work one day.

My inspiration was in the love that defined happiness for me and in the love that wreck me. It was in the solitude when I was alone, locked up with books. It was in that book which inspired me to stand up for right and never settle. It was in the disappointments and the satisfactions. It was in the 10 kilometres trek to that beautiful hill that made me want to believe in god. It was in the clarity of thoughts and in the conundrum alike. It was in my want to love and be loved alike. It was in the birthday gift that I never got. It was in the friend that left me for no reason without caring to tell me. It was in the stubborn lover who could not accept that fact that I was leaving. It was in the crowd which made me wonder we all have a vivacious life.

My list of Inspiration does not end here. It has more subtleties than I can possibly talk of. And these inspirations have forced me to write something so meaningful that has an impact on someone else’s life. Something that fires their courage again to hit the wrong in its face, to take their life’s steering-wheel in their own hands. I want to write something powerful that urges someone to speak for them.

 

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The Roses u gave were good…

roses u gave

The roses you gave were good but the thorns were better.
The love you made was good but the betrayal was better.
The roses and love made me feel pleasant at first,
Soon turned into ashes and dust.
The thorns gave me scars for life,
Also the Betrayal wasn’t less than a knife, but
The betrayal is million times better than the love,
Unlike a slow poison, at once, told me to shove,
The feelings you had was a lie,
But now, my eyes are completely dry,
They have shed ample tears,
But you were always unaware.
I’m proud at the thought
You left me, because I would not.
I’m sad but optimistic for myself,
Dismayed but grateful to you, because
The roses u gave were good but the thorns were better.
The love you made was good but the betrayal was better…

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I weave my thoughts & me

pexels-photo-185939You talk on phone every night,
While sharing the bed with me,
It was my right to be your 3 AM Friend,
My right to know how your day went,
My right to know how things were,
My right to know what you’ve felt.
We kiss in the morning before you leave,
I spend the day trying to weave,
My thoughts & me,

Trying to figure out what’s wrong in me,  pexels-photo-299863
I’m the one you kissed at the altar,
The one you swore to love forever.
Now I see your love sparing apart,
It’s just a burden that you’re carrying far.
You left my heart broken down,
Treated my feelings like a clown.
You doubt my love if I confront,
& leave the room shouting loud

Are we going to stay together?
Or I’ll be alone,
Because I don’t have someone on the phone.
For me, it was just you,
You’re my always & forever.
I feel so low of me, shattered & stressed
To you, how do I express?
My love for you will always be the same,
But my trust in love is falling apart.
We see each other in eyes,
You look more boldly than I,
I tried to find shame in your eyes,
I couldn’t, you’re too arrogant for that
For you, my dark circles matter more,
Because you’ve forgotten to see through my soul.
You never asked me how I got these,
Ask yourself, you’ll know it’s you & she.
I laugh at the whole thing
With a tear in my eyes,
I say I don’t care, but I do
& I don’t know, what to do
My friends ask me about our conjugal life,
I’ve a doubt if you still consider me your wife,
I have to fake things up &
Make new stories
I don’t want them to feel sorry
I don’t even want you to feel sorry
I want you to be what you were
I still have the power to forget,
& carry on like we were.
I want to leave you the next morning every night,
But your kiss makes me feel everything is just right
I wait for you all day,
Thinking tonight will be different
& then I wait for you all night,
While you’re busy with her.
Or some nights that you come home,
You’re too stressed & irritated from work & me
Every time I smell her cologne on your clothes,
I want to question you, but I don’t
& Then every Night, I want to leave
But the next day, I weave my thoughts & me.