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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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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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What if those Brazen Women were never born on this Earth?

What if the Brazen Women werent bornAnd what if those Brazen women were not born on this earth? How would I smile and how would I write? How would you study and how would you live a life?

Despite the few biological weaknesses, they are the gender, whom god chose to give birth to his children, the gender—the gentle and worthy of giving life. It was the sex as equal, as important as Adam’s when lord made it. But with the rising people, equilibrium began to pathetically become a disaster.

The world was a better place to live in when the biological differences in the bodies of both the gender didn’t create any mental friction between them. But gradually negativity spurned!

The truth is that women was never the weaker sex. It was made to believe that it was the one. It was made to believe that it was the weaker sex by some brokers of the male gender, the negatives, the dominants.

Not every male thought this way but a bad idea and a rumour is always initiated by few and then spreads faster than a fire in the bush and is readily absorbed by all.

Earlier there was no problem, women were as equal as men in anything. Respect, work, money, status but with the advent of the dominates, things were changing for worse.

The gentle gender was snatched off their respect, credit, love, wages. I don’t know if they rebelled or not, but then on, gradually, situation got worse for women each day.

Earlier the privilege to be born as a women was envied by men, the gender was awaited to be born in the families and considered as a symbol of the Goddess. But then on, it became a sin to give birth to a girl, Female infanticide began.

 

Then later, female infanticide stooped due to the medical advances which bought even worse, female foeticides.

The girl who are as pure as a goddess is considered a debt and a burden and the girls who in ancient times were given liberty to choose men at their will from the group of the best bachelors called ‘swayamvara’ (Hindi word for the marriage in ancient times where the princess would choose her husband from the most suitable kings) were now married off early at the age they barely understood anything.

Before periods, a fragile feather as she is, filled with deep fears and blank about the sexual world, far from the true reality of sex and life as well.

She began to get married anyway and was just told two things – “Compromise or Die”. The woman absorbed the thought like a sponge which absorbs anything its dipped in. Woman are always like a sponge; they are taught to absorb just about anything- clean water or dirty grease. It’ll just absorb like a robot who knows to just follow the order, who just knows what to do far from the reasoning on why it should do that.

But why are we taught all this? Why aren’t we taught to be stubborn, take a stand and not lessons of calm.

Anyway she is married as fast as it could happen just like a debt, the faster you get rid of it, the better. And when she’s married, she is assumed to be as shapeless, formless as a fluid. She marries a man and takes the shapes he asks her to take. Her fate’s notebook is overwritten by her husband because he married to control her anyway. She has to be what the husband and his parents want her to be. Why can’t she be what she always was, what her parents made her till the moment, just before she took those seven rounds. Why she has to change? After Wearing that red attire, she changes as a person, becomes whatever is asked out, but, why cannot she be accepted in the way she was, originally. However changes she makes in herself, she always remains a stranger in the house she considers her home, her family.

That’s the law of the society, a woman is married, has to change, is forgotten by her family and isn’t accepted in her husband’s family. She just becomes the door between any two places. She knows both the places exactly well but knows neither too well.

And the husbands who are working hard for money have alibis that they have stress, they are tired and they never pay attention to the phase their wives always have to go, even if the attention is given, they suggest them to ignore and choose not to say anything and do the same too, they think the ignorance is the right answer.

Then the husbands also have their own way of de-stressing themselves. Beatings, BDSM, forced sex, violence or anything like so. It should just satisfy their wants, needs and ego, period.

They never realise what a woman thinks, wants, or how she feels when they beat or hurt them. Or when they are too passionate, do they even thin k it for a moment if she’s ready to have sex now, they just dig in when they think they should, when their body demands.

The women who so brainwashed in love that it’s easy for them to believe that it’s their fault than accepting that wrong is happening to them. She just closes her eyes that are capable of seeing the reality and chooses to think of the good moments.

Good moments, are their pill to forget the drama, all the domestic violence, affairs that their husbands have privately or publicly. The man who was married to take her care hurt her in the worst ways possible but she just won’t question him because he told her that he loves her few days back or took those seven marriage-rounds or ‘saat-pheras’ few years back. They choose to believe their husband who says that they are unimaginably under stress that is blinding them to hurt her and she believes him after all these wrongs.

But there were some women, who were as normal as all but sassier than each one of us as well. These women just didn’t give a shit to the obstacles in her path. These women were stones, were so stubborn, denied to be soft sponges, were full of enthusiasm, anger and determinism, an attitude that they made sure nobody could even get close to shake off.

They were the woman who believed in leading by example than following her husband or her parents or her in-laws. These were the woman who decided to carve a niche in the wall of fame that madly flaunted portraits of male leaders of the world

Rani Lakshmi Bai, Mother Teresa, Indira Ghandi, Oprah Winfrey, Michelle Obama, Florence Nightingale, George Sand, Marie Curie, or in the very past, Cleopatra, Hatshepsut, Joan of Arc. These are just the few names out of the list as deep as ocean.

Rani Lakshmi Bai, who bravely fought till her end to save her motherland. She could have lived by giving up but why would she> she chose to be the stronger version of herself. She chose wat everyone wishes deep inside.

There are plenty of names, plenty faces and also plenty those who are missed out in the list but are the true heroes too, just because they chose not to bow down and to listen to their callings by not giving up

Why can’t we all be someone who’s hidden in us, who’s battle-ready, the real battles of the world, any smallest of the problems in the whole world, someone’s who is holding a flag ready to wave it to celebrate the victory, even a small one.

Be the woman you were centuries back, a queen, who was proud to be a woman, who proudly and humbly ran the world. Not the ones the dominants made out of us, the suppressed, depressed.

Be the woman who can fight for right than who chooses to just see with eyes wide shut, listen with ears closed and speaks with a mouth closed.

Be the brazen woman like the ones who chose to be the stronger versions as to rebel against the dictators. Just imagine these brazen women weren’t born, what would be the status of woman today. Would we be getting treated like a pet, who’s called for love and shooed when the masters please?

The best part is there’s a brazen woman in each one of us, just recall and remind yourself of even a small instance where you stood upright, did something very right.

But the worst part is that brazen woman is sleeping, hibernating and waiting for that one moment when we strongly call her upon for even a minor change.

 

 

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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.

 

 

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Feelings for Myself & My Friends… End of College

4It’s nothing new what I’m feeling for myself and my friends.
College is ending and we’re just marking these days, can’t cross them on the calendar, because they have been the best days of our lives. On the verge of making our careers, shaping our lives, yet full of confusion.
I’m determined and worried at the same time, for me and friends. At one end there’s a certainty that we’ll all do well and at the other a commotion. The commotion to know how it will all happen. It’s all gibberish I know, but that’s exactly how I feel and that’s the peak of clarity my thoughts currently can have.

3

Jobs, Business, Success, Failure, Entrepreneurship, what had been just simple English terms just a while ago when we were laughing in our classes, are going to be a reality, our reality just in a month.

I panic at the fact that we aren’t going to meet every day. We’ll have to plan a week or a month before, just to see each other for a day.

I really remember our gossips about anything, literally anything, baseless conversations on phones for hours. Now in a blink, it’s ending.

I wished to stop the time, in the moment of happiness when I just woke you from an amazing dream when we are meeting in the way and heading for the college together. While waiting for one of us, we all are chilling, creating new happy moments together.

But it was too late to try, because the following moment woke me up, frightened and surprised. What I was so vividly enjoying in the last moment was a beautiful dream and I was horrified too because in the dream, we all called it the last day. I rebelled n my dream as well. But the fact remains a fact, an unchallenged and an unchangeable one indeed.

Each day is creating a new anxiety in me, there are fears unknown, feelings unexpressed. I don’t know what I should say or do—I just can pray for a great career simply for all of us.

 

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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.