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My Modesty is my Pride!

My modesty is my Pride. I am not a modest I choose to be one. I choose to be proud at me in silence than exaggerating or publicizing myself in front of everybody.

My silence is my dignity, my pride. Because I’d be judged if I speak, I’d be judged if I don’t.

So I’d let my silence be the reason of your judgment and your judgments be the reason of my silence and an insight of you to me.

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What’s her Identity?

I 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 but 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 etiquette gets in the way of my nature all the time. My nature is to flow; the etiquette is 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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Choices a women gets!

pexels-photo-210585You were right when you said Women has all the liberty today.  She is given every opportunity, as good as a man, given importance as much as a man would get for the similar task. You were right when you said that Women can now decide for herself, her life. She is given Choices now.

Examining the choices, I found there were a lot of options given to her: “I agree; You’re right; My Husband shall take my decision; My Family knows my Answer; I can’t answer; I am not able to answer;” were some of the common options available to her.

Career, Clothes, Spouse, Kids; She’s asked not to worry when the matter is about taking decisions. She can do all the chores capably but at the matters of mind, she’s still weak as per the norms. Somehow, even today, it’s the man who thinks he’s the capable gender.

When would the day come when each woman can decide without weighing her responsibilities at one hand, consequences of her decisions at the other. When she is not eyed when she makes a quirky choice for herself. When it’s very natural and common that she takes her own decision and not judged upon the details.

Men, I think are going to play a vital role in this movement. It’s just a matter of a changed perspective. What if we do not see men as perpetrators but barristers of today’s women?

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My life is just like my diary…

GoSolo (2)My life is just like my diary. Few pages, filled completely, the others blank.

All the pages have their own rhymes to recite, own tempo, own highs and lows.

Some pages have a horror story written on them, however, I don’t regret to have penned them down because I was both, the writer and the protagonist.

While some pages have a story- The “What if Story”? These are the pages I couldn’t fill up well but I wish I could.

Then some pages are the doodles- the ones I made in leisure, whose meanings I don’t know or the relevance of those to the person I was, that moment of my life.

“My life is just like my diary”- Some pages filled, some blank but it’s a beautiful diary and I’m glad it’s my diary.

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A Book is just a stupid set of lines…

GoSolo (1)A Book is just a stupid set of lines. Nobody can really understand anything.

People read and make a meaning out of it to their understanding or the extent that suits them.

A book is a part of someone else’s life that they’ve left for others as they’ve already lived it. They either want to share that part with you or throw it away far from them like an amputated arm.

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Only with the writer’s state of mind, their circumstances can we understand the true meaning of his lines, by not just reading a language but living the emotions. But is that even possible? To have that state of mind to read between the lines. The metaphors, the words can all be a lie, a deceiving trickery by the author or may have a deeper meaning than we can ever imagine or grasp.

But we all love to read, to at least grasp the macro idea of it while trying and looking for something meaningful relevant to us in some way.

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Isn’t Love a Universe in its own?

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. All is 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 around worth it.

The gravity of a ‘Black hole’ is no way near the attraction of two lovers. Closing your eyes with 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- the Labyrinth love, 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?

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In this realm, you are my Immortal Reality

While I was too busy idolizing someone else’s relationship, marking their couple-goals; You were too occupied making ours the perfect one. You were not marking them like I, but instead you were creating moments for us, setting the pace.

The Couple I idolized broke up a long ago! However, we are still together. Because of you solely. If I say, I am lucky to have you, that would be an understatement.

Happen what may, I’m just content that in this realm of ours, our small little utopia, you are my immortal reality.

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Love should be permanent!

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. Love should be permanent!