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We don’t cry for we’ve problems but…

We dont Cry becausePeople don’t cry because they have problems, or when they are not able to find the solutions but when they don’t have just an ear that lacks any filter of bias, pre-judgments, past-experiences.

We’re so vulnerable today that we just can’t express our feelings clearly to ourselves, let alone others. We are always confused, baffled below the earth’s clear sky.

We’re so lonely today that we just prefer to spend two hours in front of a screen today that opens the windows to the world but first, slyly, shuts the doors of our life—shuts for even our closest relationships in life than going out of this virtual life’s door to explore the reality.

We dont Cry because 2The screen that delivers the news and knowledge of the world in a few seconds fails to understand the feelings. So, the vulnerable soul that seeks knowledge unknowingly abandons the heart. In seek of knowledge, humans banish their confidants, their soul-buddies, their better-halves.

And when problems hit us, where do we go to seek a kind advice, the apt solution? Can a screen transform the generic advice to the one that’s perfectly apt for us, pertaining to our personal, emotional or maybe economic circumstances?

The screen that arouses the curiosity fails to find and give the peace the ’24×7′ working human-mind deserves. It takes it the outer world but fails to let the human learn of the inner universe it possesses. It plays the sounds of the world, but distant the body from the music and rhythm of the soul.

What we had in the past is what we need today more than ever! The social company, the gatherings, of the family and friends, eating dinner on a phone-proof table where we are just conscious of the ‘now’, ‘each-other’, not worried about anything or even if worried, we would have our kith and kin to share them with.

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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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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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My Inspiration to write!

My inspiration to write was that women in 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 transgender 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 all over again. 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 the fact that I was leaving. It was in the crowd which made me wonder we all have a vivacious life.

Although, I’m stopping here but my list of inspiration does not end here. It has more subtleties than I can ever possibly talk of. These inspirations have forced me to write something so meaningful that impacts someone else’s life in a beautiful way. 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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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!