I’m Talking Through My Heart

She’s so angry at me,
I irritate her a lot,
With my unreasonable talks,
She complains.
But why can’t she understand?
All I want is, her attention.
Actually, she’s being unreasonable.
The crazy fact is,
I’m talking through my heart,
And she’s listening through her mind.

Own Set of Struggles

​Choosing the path out of escape,
Strode with the hope of little more peace,
But the choice made life more chaotic.
How I can forget,
The struggle never ends,
Every path has its own set of struggles.

The Dusk of Desire

The sun lazily crept down the horizon as they held each other’s hand enjoying the view in front. The fog leapt hills adjoining the dam and greenery adorned the hill. Seated on a high wall beside the dam, their eyes twinkled as they watched the water flow calmly; the soothing effect reached deep into their minds. A gentle breeze blew every now and then, sending slight shivers through their veins. The surrounding greenery soaked into their sub-conscience, they looked into each other’s eyes. She gave him an affectionate smile. He held her closer, sliding his hand comfortably over her shoulder. They turned back their gazes to experience the magnificent beauty of the scenery that lay ahead. Immersed deep into the profoundness of the moment, they hardly realized that this would be another priced addition to their treasure of memories.

It was in that moment when they were dissociated from the rest of the world. Their cellphones stashed aside, it was their eyes which did the capturing – slowly acknowledging each other’s presence and the surreal atmosphere around.

‘This is too beautiful to be real!’ she remarked.
‘Yes. And so are you,’ he nudged.
‘But I am here. With you, right now!’
She edged closer.
‘Don’t act all surprised. I know you think you are the most beautiful in the world.’
‘Yeah… That’s right!’ She shrugged.
‘And you have no idea how ‘right’ it is!’
He smiled.
‘Let’s do it now,’ she said.

They propped against each other and stood up against the blowing wind. Both looked down at the flowing water once again – towards the blinding white froth that would act as the end-curtain to their epic stories.


This post was written in association with my friend, writer, and a nyctophile, Anamika Kumari.

It’s Good to See You

‘We are done with the interview. Do you want to ask me anything?’ asked Ms. Shivangi, an interviewer with a pretty smile.

I applied for a job of creative writer at a leading viral content company. I took a deep breath and asked the question I wanted to ask so ardently, ‘Tell me something about yourself.’

She smiled amusingly and replied, ‘I am working as a senior editor for this firm from last six months. I graduated from New York University in MFA and returned to India. This is my first job after graduation.’

I nodded.

‘Anything else you want to know?’

‘No.’

‘Then we are done here. Thanks for coming, we will get back to you shortly.’

I expressed gratitude, stood up from chair, and stared blindly at desk.

‘Anything else?’ asked she.

‘Have you not been my interviewer, I would have said something to you what I am about to say now.’

She looked intently at me.

I continued, ‘I like your smile. It is the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen. And I couldn’t help but notice, you don’t have a ring on your finger. So I just want to say, I love you, will you marry me?’

She frowned and said, ‘Yes.’

‘You just said yes?’ I asked, exalted.

‘Yeah, I said yes. Yes, you can leave now. Because, have you not been my interviewee, I would have said something to you what I am about to say now. Your writing is a piece of crap, your interview was waste of my time, and above all, your charm is ridiculous. And I couldn’t help but notice, this is the end of our discussion.’

We both were silent for a moment.

I smiled softly and said, ‘It’s good to see you.’

She appreciated with a brittle smile and a blink. A guilt radiated through her eyes.

The crazy fact, she was my ex-girlfriend who left me five years ago for NYU.

Broken Strings of Guitar

“Do they conduct guitar classes in here?” asked Pratiksha as Kaushal stepped out of a multi-facility hall.

“I don’t know that,” replied Kaushal. “But I know one thing, no guitarist can compose a tune as beautiful as you.”

She laughed. And he lost himself in her uninhibited laughter, just like he did when he used to stare her furtively in college and she laughed like there was no tomorrow.

“No, you’re wrong,” said she as she regained her gasp. “I know two guitarists who composed a tune as beautiful as me.”

“Ohh! You are right,” exclaimed he. “Your parents.”

“Yes.”

Both of them remained quiet for few moments, looked around nervously to avoid eye contact, and pretended everything was normal.

Finally, Pratiksha broke that awkward silence, “It’s good to see you, Kaushal. You are doing great. You have become a guitar teacher and a member of a band, which plays at Hard Rock Café every Tuesday.”

“What are you doing here?” retorted he.

“Do you mean, how are you? Good to see you too.”

He was quiet and staring at the ring in her finger. She left him without a goodbye after being in a relationship for six years.

“I want to talk to you,” said she.

“There is nothing to talk about,” said he, indifferently.

“Yes, there is.”

“No, there isn’t.”

“You don’t know what is happening to that tune now? And what that tune is going through?”

“I know one thing. Those two guitarists composed a beautiful tune and then broke the strings. The only difference was; those were the strings of two hearts. Those strings always played a melodious tunes of love. But social stigmas found those tunes discordant, so they broke it and thought one of those strings will compose a tune harmoniously with an unknown strings. And you followed them.”

“That’s not the whole symphony.”

“I don’t want to strike those cords now. I realized that some tunes, no matter how harmonious they sound, were not meant to be played together.”

“There is a reason why they were not forced to play together. And I’m here to tell that.”

“Then you have to keep that reason to yourself. Because I’m not mad at you for what you have done. You don’t have to clarify yourself. I’ve moved on. I also realized that destiny is a conductor in the orchestra and we are just musicians playing on its directions.”

I’m Not Accepting This Time

‘Do you remember the only time you opened up?’

‘You accepted.’

‘You think I’m going to accept this time?’

‘I know you have a kind heart.’

‘The kind heart didn’t deserve that.’

‘I know. But you also know I’m genuinely saying it.’

‘I know, but I’m not accepting this time.’

First time, he said ‘I love you’ and this time, he said, ‘I am sorry.’

‘Please? I need you.’

‘I’m not accepting, because when you opened up the first time, you loved a kind heart, and now you are opening up to make that kind heart an alternative to your loneliness.’

Just Be Here

She sat beside him and looked deeply into his eyes. Her eyes radiated an immense adoration for him.

‘What?’ said he as her gaze startled him.

‘Nothing,’ clarified she, endearingly.

‘Say it, nah!’

‘Nothing… Just be here.’

And she rested her head on his shoulder, held his hand, and closed her eyes.

The crazy fact is, someone’s mere presence is enough to fade away the feeling of loneliness.