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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.

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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.

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A Tale of Sadness & Love

TransA morning when I was myself struggling through some of issues in my life. I chose to put it aside for some while and go out to have a chill with my friends. Even when the time was pre-planned, I got out from home early so that I could spend some time with myself. I was commuting via Delhi Metro.

I wasn’t in my Best moods so, I got ready as if it were the best day of my life. I put on my Eyeliner, Mascara, Lipstick, wore a nice Colourful dress to look very jolly, which somehow made me feel better. It sometimes works, it’s just like when you are sad, you force yourself to smile ’til it eventually makes you feel better. ‘Fake until you make it’.

It was Ladies’ Compartment. After a few stations, I realised someone along my side was talking to someone sitting just in front of me. So I could see her expressions which I didn’t find much agreeable. So I paused the track I was listening to, to get the idea of what was happening.

I realised there was a Neuter sitting beside my seat, she was asking for the Route to the other Girl. However, The Girl didn’t know the Route to INA Market. Actually, the girl was maybe a little scared too, that’s how I felt through her expressions. Also, the funny part was she was complimenting her in weird ways. She said- “You look pretty, you better go into films, leave your studies, and When you’ll come into movies, I will be proud to see you and call myself a sister of a Movie Actor”.

shutterstock_168955373-605x400All this was quite funny because of the tone of her voice and manner in which she was speaking but also quite scary because we all have been taught by our parents, societies to be at a little distance from Neuters. The reasons that they give us are one too many like they would say- They are not good people! Or they might say- They have a very different community than ours and the best bet is to stay far from them. Obviously the Kids of our age need reasoning and logic. When the parents aren’t able to feed us logic, they frighten us by telling weird stories. They tell us that the Neuter Community abducts teenagers and injects them with hormones to turn them into a neuter as well. Or they tell us how cruel, shameless they are, they can do anything for money and if not given, they insult people in the worst possible way.

All these little stories have created a bad reputation of this less-respected Community. These sharp words have subconsciously created an outlook amongst us all. The Hijras are not respected by any. It is only at the time of a birth of a baby that they are welcomed in houses to give blessings to the new born and gifted with lots of money and jewellery. The sole time when they’re welcomed.

Coming back to the incident, she also started to stare me, and saying all those things to me too about trying for Movies. To which I lightly replied- “I am not that good-looking to qualify as an actress and also I would, but my parents want me to study.” She was exceedingly extrovert. She was indulging in small talks with everyone in the compartment. The Girls, Ladies, she started to joke with everybody. She complimented everybody in the coach, speaking in a very funny manner and comical accent. She even persuaded a girl to call her husband to talk to him on phone. Can you believe that? She talked to her husband and said— “Why don’t you marry me and I Love you etcetera”. I found it extremely comical.  After talking to her husband she blessed them. In India, the blessings of Hijras are considered very significant. She didn’t ask her for money, but the lady gave her a hundred which somehow made an obligation for others to pay her too. They all started giving her some money. I really couldn’t understand why despite denying so much, she started to accept money then. This one thing kept me confused for days and I couldn’t make a heads or tails about it honestly. Anyway, the route thing I knew about.

I knew the route so I explained her the metro route. But she couldn’t understand so I thought that I should help her as I had some extra time to be at the meet-up. I took her along with me to the upper floor, where from we had to board the train. We were talking all this time, I asked her about her life, she told me her childhood story how her mother didn’t want to give her up despite her being the other gender. She said, with sadness within her, “There’s nobody like a Mother. A Mother never wants to lose her child despite all the flaws that the child may have. She’ll accept her even after knowing the hardships that they’ll have to face. She said the Societies create more problem than family does.” I was completely in her agreement. There was a sense of dissatisfaction in her that I noticed. But she was still encouraging me to study and told me to never let anybody discourage and dominate me. Yes, these were her words, after not being able to study, because of the differences. She is encouraging me to study. Also she was telling me about the Dharma-Maa that she had. The Dharma-Maa is one who nurtures you like a Mother but she’s not your biological Mother. Hers was the head of the Hijra Community of their region. She told me how she used to let her study when it wasn’t allowed by their community to touch books. Every day she would study in a park and then bury the books under the bulky tree. This hustle was continued for a couple of years. But she was sad as she couldn’t continue her education after 8th standard. She wanted to but after that, even her Maa couldn’t support her Education. Do you feel how depressing it must be for this community to quit education?

She told me how she misses her family & her home in which she was born. She said she’s very unlucky to have been born like that otherwise she could spend her life with her family with complete right and dignity. She told me that not a day passes without her yearning for her family. She misses them endlessly. I could just feel her, I tried to console her a bit. I really hope that nobody suffers from this pain yet want that everybody feels this pain, only then, we can all be empathic with the less-fortunate.

She kept on telling me how she envies us all because we have a family to live with. People have a spouse and children. She was sad that she can never get all this. We get to hang-out with our friends and family. We get to go out anywhere with complete liberty without being eyed but if Hijras are roaming around, they are being eyed and judged.

What next? We talked some more about Love. She complimented me and said – “you’re very pretty, you must have an ardent lover.” I said no promptly. Because of the conflicts in my love life, I wanted to evade this subject called LOVE. I did have a boyfriend but we had been going through some tough times and we were not able to get along lately so I decided to continue only as friends. Obviously I didn’t explain my complicated love to her. I simply said— “I do have someone who loves me but I don’t love him”. It must be mere coincidence that she cut me and said— “No, you’re lying, you love him”. I was amazed because the truth I was hiding, she understood or maybe it was a mere chance she said so. I told her about how self-sufficient I was and I needed nobody to be with me. She was almost in tears when I said that.

She expressed her desire of true love in her life, her wants to be with someone who would accept her in the way Lord has created her and love her. She needed someone to listen to her problems, to talk about absolutely nothing, to care for her choices, someone who would be there for her, someone who would love to kiss her, someone who would fight for her, who would respect her, someone she would love to care about. I was nodding with her words & said—“Just the feeling that someone is there for you is the best feeling in the world.” We both could relate. Listening to this, we both had our eyes wet. She simply asked me to love him back if the relationship is worth it as Love is a very beautiful feeling. I nodded.

She was so distressed. Her only wish was to be one amongst us, only if she were born as a man or a woman. She wishes that could happen. “I’m not happy with this life of begging. Where we are not involved in any societal meets, not respected. I wish I could also study like a normal person to change the way how our community is treated,” she said. I encouraged her that she can still do it.

I was thinking of ways to console her but knowing the hardships that she has to face every day, the struggle, it was difficult for me to find words. I still tried by saying— “Don’t worry, whatever happens, happens for good, you just believe in God.” She was a bit relaxed now. The magic wasn’t in me or my words, I didn’t do much to calm her; the true magic was in just Listening. I’m glad that I just could listen to her and if not solve her problems, just lessen her mental burden.

Finally, her destination arrived, I dropped her, and we said our byes. She went, but her thoughts lingered on. I was constantly thinking about her, her struggles. I was wondering how the world can embrace them. What things should change etcetera. Total Utopianism, attainable or not. I prayed for her and the community. I also started to think about reconciling with my beloved. I was thinking on how I should make up for the things gone wrong in our relationship, how I should fill the gaps. Well, I started my efforts, it took me a while. It was hard at first, but things turned smooth as this was what we both wanted. We settled all the differences one by one and eventually our relationship turned stronger than ever. May be the problems were important to strengthen our relationship. And the realization of its importance was equally necessary.

And about her, I’m worried. Because of her being too talkative and extrovert, I felt traces of depression in her. I would be happier if my observation turns out wrong. I hope she’s well. We all should do our bit to make them feel home whenever we see them. Just a mild smile would do, I really request people to not look this community with an evil eye. They’re just as humans as we are. They’re God’s creation as we are, only a bit different.

P.S. Next time you see one of them, Do them a Favor— JUST SMILE  (^_^)

 

 

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Nothing can measure distance b/w Two Hearts

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‘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.

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Woe-MEN

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Women should rather get start being called WOE-MEN. Because they’re no less than a suffering to Men all around for no reason. I wonder why it’s so, what heinous sins have they committed, how did they do this? These are some of the 64 thousand dollar questions which unfortunately won’t get answered till the ends of the Universe.

Just Wondering, How do WOE-MEN hurt Men? Maybe it is their Breath that makes the air poisonous for other dogmatic Males to breathe. Or maybe it’s the cacophony they make all the time while all the busy Male-Bees are working which makes them go crazy. Maybe it’s the sluggishness, their indolence which makes the aura ill. Or May be it’s their selflessness, I feel it must be really hard to be around such extraterrestrials. Not just that, Woe-Men are all the time in a mood to try their ways to woo Men, who by the way are very Realistic & Unromantic.
WOE-MEN

The Possessiveness of Women for their Bodies, Hair, Dresses are all a sign of their pretentiousness, even the hormones—Estrogen & Progesterone that happen to bother women and cause mood swings are their fault as well.

The Looks so charming, the Touch so healing, the Heart so warm is all a lie, that maddens them to their core.

No wonder WOE-MEN will be a pain in the neck as long as they take ‘Women Empowerment’, ‘Gender Inequality’ for granted. These words have richer meaning to what is usually interpreted. They’ve a deeper connotation which had never been given the right weight it deserved.

No one else than amongst us can come up & say-“Whatever happened was find, let’s forget that & walk towards the brighter side of the tunnel.” The Dark tunnel can’t be crossed by one or two or even a hundred, but only all together can do it. When they accept nothing but the true Social, Legal, Educational, Political, & most of all INDIVIDUAL EMPOWERMENT. When they’ll understand how valuable, privileged they are to be born in this gender. When they respect and equally get it back, when their opinions and decisions are welcomed, admired and considered without any prejudice.

That’ll be in a true sense- “Women Empowerment.” Period.

 

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I was born BLACK but I didn’t know it

BlackI was born Black but I didn’t know it. I was my Daddy’s cute little girl. My Daddy! He loved my hair, he used to arrange them every day, be it ponytails or braids. Tickling and Games, my childhood was all about it. One word can summarise my childhood and that is Happiness.

I never saw a Mirror, never needed to. I was the prettiest and the most beautiful girl as my Daddy called me. Then I became a teenager, the time of tonnes of changes, biological, physical, mental, loads of them. The time of fragility and abysmal confusion. The people started commenting on my looks, told me that my skin was not white, not pure.

I never knew the difference between the white and black skin. The only way I could distinguish people was their acquaintance or relationship with me. There were people I know in one group and the ones I didn’t know in the other. That was it, there were no further classifications with their color, class, religion, caste as a base.

With each day, the number of comments was rising, I was becoming a mess. I got confused between the notion of Daddy and that of the society. Daddy called me the prettiest and now people are eying me and calling me Black. He was not there anymore, couldn’t ask him too.

black1With new and different comments, weird and awkward stares, strange insecurities were being born in me every day. I couldn’t believe it, I didn’t want to believe that my black skin was not pretty. But bit by bit, the strange insecurities about the skin, color, lips broke the belief. The belief of being the Daddy’s Most Beautiful Girl broke.

I got to know the difference finally. I was uncomfortable in my skin now. I was ashamed of being black now. They forced me to be ashamed of my black skin. Each day was a sin after the realisation. It took me days to chuck it.

I started to put makeup, layers of it. Primer, Concealer, foundation, highlighter, kohl, mascara and Tone Enhancing, Fairness Creams at night. I thought it’ll be okay now. I felt good in the beginning when my kith and kin complimented me. It gave me a satisfaction. I felt happy, really happy. Months and years passed. My obsession for makeup also rose. I couldn’t picturise myself without makeup anymore. It became my identity, the outer one at least. I got dependent on it. It became my drug.

But one night, I was removing my makeup, I removed the Kohl first, it got smudged and smeared. Then I took the cleansing wipe, rubbed it on my lips. The bold red lips became dull, lifeless at once. I panicked a bit. I folded the wipe, started to clean my face. I could see, stroke by stroke, the two juxtaposing skin tones. I was horrified. I can’t explain the feeling, what I felt that very moment, suddenly there was a tear in my eye. I wiped it, cleansed and washed my face and went to bed. I tried to sleep but I wasn’t able to.

I was confused about this incident for many months. I was losing my sleep. There was this identity crisis in me after all of it that I was neither able to embrace my natural shade, be comfortable with it or wear it publically nor I was able to be happy in my artificial shade, I was wearing it to work but I wasn’t feeling myself anymore.

Then to worsen it, one day, while I was checking Instagram, I saw a white women’s post. It said-“BAN MAKEUP and FAIRNESS CREAM”. I was angry, sad, happy, worried, optimistic, and pessimistic in a single moment. Can you believe it?

Angry! As why a white woman is posting it, she’s not black, she doesn’t feel us then how did she get the right to post it.

Sad! As I was already disturbed about my skin. I thought if this should happen what would I do without makeup? How would I see myself without these products?

Happy as at least someone thought of it, a woman thought of it despite she’s white, she cared enough for others. She wants others to feel beautiful with whatever God has gifted them with.

Worried! I was worried how will I go out, in such a dull and lifeless skin. What would others think of me if they see me like so?

Optimistic! I thought maybe if there are no products, everyone will eventually accept their natural beauty despite the differences and the diversity. After all, we all are the same, all humans, we all have eyes, ears, mouth, lips, brain, heart etc. Maybe the world will embrace the black and white alike now.

Pessimistic! What if this all was a bubble, my bubble of hope. What if this all was my imagination while the reality might be unfavorable? What if the world refuses to believe in black, denies their rights and opportunities. What if we’re all left out.

black1Yes, all these thoughts in a couple of seconds. My head was all about it, and it started to pain because all these feelings were shouting, having arguments and fights with each other. It was a Brain War.

I was messed up beyond words that night. I took a pill and tried to catch some Zs. I slept with a wet pillow. The pill put me to sleep.

Luckily, I had a good dream that night. In my dream, there was a different world, an animated and a really beautiful one. I saw chocolate rivers, colorful trees. Some trees had candies hung on them. Some had cupcakes while others had star shaped fairy lights hung on them. On one side, there was this huge fall, from which strawberry shake was falling. The people’s face were teddy like, had a cherry-like nose. There were big mansions made of waffles which also had noodle shaped curtains on their glass panes. There were statues of chocolate, ice-cream filled ponds. Pasta shaped ducks and all cute little animals. Surprisingly, all the teddies looked alike. A huge bell rang in a while, at the centre of the beautiful Garden. Suddenly all the teddies sat on the green grass for lunch. They held each other’s hand and made a big circle, leaving no one behind. All sat and had lunch circled by small puppies and kittens, they also joined for lunch.

The speciality of this very time was the way they all sat for the feast. Their regular meal was a feast each day. They were so happy and joyous. Each one of them started to feed others with their plate. Each one was filled up with not just food but love. The cute animals were not left alone either. What an adorable scene that was! I wish I could capture it on my phone. Suddenly played the Beep! Beep! My alarm played and woke me up.

I woke up with a smile on my face. I remembered each scene of my dream, so clearly and vividly. I was in awe of it. I was happy about it, the dream fed me some positivity, and a long lost one. I went to the park, bathed, ate my breakfast and got ready for work.

I did not wear makeup that day, it was hard but I didn’t. I tied my hair and went for work. Some colleagues questioned on why looked so dull. To which I replied—“I look real.” Some appreciated while others chose to whisper and laugh. I won’t say it was easy. It was bold, you know, doing something unafraid, indifferent to the consequences. I did it or maybe I didn’t. This was daddy’s pretty girl who did it.

The wicked and surprised eyes disappointed me a little at first. But the impression of the dream was not that weak that I would be hurt by those stone pelted at me anymore.

Instead, the second time I chose to fire back at the ones who came and commented on my skin. I chose to bomb kind words wrapped in sarcasm with a smirking smile on my face. I could see them almost dying as they couldn’t make me insecure anymore. I saw that dissatisfaction in their eyes when they saw my proud eyes. I wish I knew this cycle in my teenage. Comments if not answered turn into our own insecurities while also powering the perpetrators.

Anyway, I was not looking for an acceptance anymore. I accepted myself entirely that day. Isn’t there much more to me, my life than the shade of my flesh?

Problems never last so does satisfaction. I was pondering over a cup of java that what if I had not seen that Instagram post that day? What if I had not cared for my dull lips and different shades that day? What if my daddy never called me beautiful? What if I hadn’t had that dream morning?

I could be happy in my flesh once again, the way nature made me, the way my family loved and accepted me. But what about the others? Who are as black as I yet with golden but fragile hearts? What sequence is designed by the nature to make them believe in their skin again? What if they don’t see that post or have that dream?

What ifs are tonnes but so are the what now’s. We all should be that human to at least someone that betters their life directly or indirectly. I want to inspire many by this small tale. But I’m not going to say Ban Makeup or Ban Fairness Cream.

I would go and shout out loud—“BAN THE INSECURITY”. I would teach the trick to silent the commenters. I’m going to teach the blacks to educate the racists and pity their limited thinking.

I would teach the teenagers how the color palette is incomplete and somehow blank with just white and alone without the black.

The world is also the color palette of the Lord whose colors are white, black and so many others and his arts are equally colorful. If God wasn’t partial to his color palette, who gave humans the right to criticise his art pieces?

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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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A Writer will always be Mistaken

A Writer will always be mistakenA writer will always be mistaken. Everyone thinks right? But only we choose to pen down. We write the earnest, the deepest of the thoughts with a pen which runs silver ink, the same silver that makes a mirror.

We pen down what we see with the most ardent honesty, what we feel or imagine. Our feelings or imaginations are just like us, simple and true with not even the slightest intentions to misguide or mislead.

A Writer will always be mistakenWe choose to write down on vivid and diverse topics but not all are our past. We want to write something that’s someone’s something, that makes out a meaning, that brings clarity to someone. We don’t always pen down our life, so doesn’t mean if I write about love, in actually in love with someone, it maybe past or pure imagination. I want to write it so well, pouring my heat-beat with the silver ink. And when people read it and ask if that’s happened to me.  I take it as a compliment, I feel on having written it so good that people find its true.

But not always do I like the question. The question- ‘Has it happened to me’. I want to write pure fantasies, someone else’s darkest realities, fictions without the fear of judgments, without being questioned of my physical connection with my writings.

If they want to know my connection with my work, I can tell you whole day how deeply connected, embossed it’s in my soul not because they’re good or they have been my past but because I could feel those feelings without them actually happening to me.  I feel all my work so deep just the way I’d have felt if it’d have happened to me.

But am I gifted or unfortunate? I can feel anything so well but still can’t deliver it as my pure fantasy. I mislead my readers through my work that it has happened to me without my truest intentions. A Blessing or a Curse?

The writer will always be misunderstood.

 

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The Dark Sky and the clouds are as optimistic as the Grey Skies

Dark Skies are as optimistic as the Grey is (3)

The Dark Sky and the clouds are as optimistic as the grey sky.

The Silver Line above the cloud is so optimistic but trust me, the black clouds are equally or maybe more optimistic than the clear beautiful sky.

The grey clouds that tend to dim the lights of the sun, but only those clouds don’t let the sun’s light to diverge in the vastness of earth and then in these beautiful movements of the clouds, only once in a while, you do see a bright ray of light as perfect as the lord.

The ray with a sharp piercing focus, beautiful line running downstairs like that beautiful angel in white but with the vividness of a thousand rainbows.

Dark Skies are as optimistic as the Grey is (1)

Then there is the dark sky that seems to yell spells and curses but only in some time we are able to decipher the spells when it rains and beautifully dampens the dry earth, extracting aromas and auras and spreading it all around. Only the dark skies have the ability to rain on earth and the people. The rain that’s purer than the purest water on the mother earth.

In only the dark clouds, the thunderstorms, when lightning strikes the earth and makes so loud sounds; people are more silent and enjoying the nature’s play while looking at the power of it, in awe of nature.

When it rains, the purity of water dilutes all the negativity in the people and fills them with gaiety. They are always joyful when it rains.

“A clear sky never rains” is what they say and they never said it wrong.

So, Cheers to the Grey & Dark Clouds.

 

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I’ll Rebel & then surrender to you at once.

The best companionship’s are the ones where there’s no man or a woman who love each other but two partners who love each other beyond the bounds of a gender, beyond the thoughts of stereotypically classifying their works and chores.

I‘ll Rebel each time…and then Surrender at once

Love is great but for a woman, it’s tough. A woman has to change herself to take love to next level and she accepts to change. But I won’t allow you to change me.

I’ll not behave as you would want me.

I’ll not see the same things as you would or might want me to see.

I’ll not be a good friend at first.

I’ll not be taking it forward, giving you signals that I’m into you even if I might be

I’ll not be the even amiable, let alone being flirtatious.

I’ll not go on dates when you’d choose, I’ll decide.

I’ll not let you decide my clothes or let you comment on the way I dress.

Nor I would let you decide the time to go to date or even plan one.

I’ll fight with you or get angry at you at your slightest mistakes.

I’ll not allow you to get close to my self-respect.

I’ll not rebellious at first to know you better, judge you well to find the person in you, the real you.

And when I do find a lovely human in you

I’ll surrender to you, for life, at once.