Everyone’s a romantic 

It was a pleasant night at anvari town, the rain paused itself graciously allowing the trees and animals to breathe before it commences for a longer duration of time. The dimly lit streetlight wasn’t much of a silver lining for those who needed it, it was rather a pointer stating that it’s too late and you need to get to shelter as soon as possible. The sounds were less, croaks croaking of love, the rowdy owls hooting for what seemed to have amused them, the wild dogs howling, giving the entire village a warning for the dangers of bigger predators. But the most admirable creatures who I would like to thank personally would be the fireflies. They made miral happy,  she didn’t smile for them but I could see it in those deep brown eyes. 

“It makes me happy, those fireflies. They are the most beautiful creations of God”. Which gave me the chills of a relation where there was always a third person involved, privacy is a sarcastic definition for no secrets at all. “I know you don’t have faith Zo, but one day you will when you open your eyes”. 

“I have faith in you, better yet I; I have faith in what you believe in and that’s more than enough for me”. The romantic always on his toes. 

Sleeping under a tree with a stream in front of us flowing into the jungle, providing food and shelter for the beings of the wild. The nights in anvari were cold most of the time because of the Himadri range. Snow would come and go, the sun would rise and set but the weather would always be the same, cold enough to love somebody as much as you can. 

“Why don’t you write Zo?” You’d make a better writer than a soldier!”. Her surety is unfathomable. It is because of that, we are in love. I would always help her at school, assist in anyway I could. Make her happy, feed her when she didn’t get any food, fight for her when it came to dance partners during the annual sisters Christmas program. Everyone knew about us and it was not like she was shy, delicate or quiet. She was bubbling with energy, she’d love school. A distraction from her disjointed family. She’d be the topper every year. She’d rush to school most of time without bringing her lunchbox, she’d always be at the top of everything and truly she was at the top of my heart, the hormones truly are mystics. After the tenth grade, she made a definite statement, she kissed me on my dry lips and said, ” You love me zozi and I love you, we will definitely be together regardless of all the problems we would have to face.” We parted ways as I was leaving with sorrow in my soul. Graduation meant the world to me. Through my time, letters and calls were what kept me alive apart from my exams, assignments and friends. 

Here we are, sitting under a tree, all grown up, still the same kids, this time bigger and better yet still foolish and arrogant. If there was one thing to describe our relationship it would be ” suckers for cheesy love stories by authors who have  never had one”. She’d always retort, “maybe we’ve grown up too much that we might need that cheesiness to come back, maybe that’s why the shady entertainment business of the movie industry in India still sticks to the same plot because deep down inside the person who’s intellectual enough to relate between the Uber and cheesy things in life does long for a fantasy when he/ she falls on the bed”. The journalist has the last say. 

We lay on the wet soil, cooling our backs while we look at the star filled sky, thinking of what is yet to come. One thing is for certain, in any form or manner everyone’s a romantic. 

Roy

Sweet bird of the seventh district 

​Carry these wounded soldiers 

Oh fate!

These soldiers of blood shed and hate 

Gather around all you folks of the hill

Come take all you can, more than your fill
Oh merry good jumping lady folk

Why do you give so much hope?

To the leaping lads of tomorrow?

Who hide their pity and feed on sorrow
Mr minister where do you go?

You seem so bright, look at you glow 

Come righteousness young

Look at the elders

At the expense of your fun
Jumbled in their head alright

Drunk jn vanity, the plight

Shadows casting a grey skin tone

Please don’t make me go there alone
It’s dark, cold and shiverously fun

Call me crazy, but I have none 

When will be the hour of the sun?

What time will we eat?

What time will we be done?
Can I rhyme all my life alone?

I feel so sad for my very own 

Have to pick up the pieces of my loss

Freeze time, that’s the cost.
Roy

Feelings. 

There’s nothing you can do if you have the right motivation. It’s so hard to walk on the path you think you’ve set yourself on. Especially when your the patient one. Especially if you believe in the greater good regardless of all the bitter experience you’ve had throughout the day. 

Things are so slow. Every breathe feels like a one which needs to be treasured. I must learn to be calm. Yes calm. You feel like your drowning, tied up in chains left on an inch to draw breathe from. You have two options, settle down close your eyes and open your mouth or close your eyes and think that it’s all a bad dream. 

I see a jet in the sky landing towards the air strip, it always mocks me, showing me where I am and where it is! Is it so tough to achieve greatness? I guess they call it greatness because it’s so hard to achieve. 

To oneself, to all self

Think of the struggling
juggling days
You keep reminiscing
What if you had it your way?
Don’t let that move you
Let that confuse you
Let that mix up the spinless emotion that pushes you to the edge of the scene
And reminds you about one thing!

Where did you start from?
Why did you start at all?
Why didn’t you let it fall?
Why you couldn’t let down your gaurd even when you heard the call
It’s your right, your fight
Living the dream the next day or tonight
Keeping calm is delusional
Committing harm is a sin
And you’ve got to mean it unless you win
Win for yourself
Win for the glory
Win for the people who give a damn about your story
Don’t forget about them, push them, stop believing in em

Stay steady as a sniper
Skilled like the piper
In this town of fighters
Tumbling down like a can of peanuts
Peanuts just peanuts
Is that your worth?
What is your worth?
Think your a pile of dirt?
Don’t think so,just do so.

The fiddle of the riddle

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Riddling the riddled riddler’s expression
I have now come to know
I worry for him now in this gripping yet cunning
Exponential show

He tries to take my heart into his show
Swindled by the smell, heartless as hell
Why would this riddler not go?
Riddle that fiddle
And make me a tune worthy for my senses to glow
Corporate t-shirts mean nothing to me
Can I show you something that wont be a bore?

Sometimes what it takes is a little design
A design of mine that will make things fine
And will set your eyes ablaze!
To see this complexity
Come crashing down as you let go.

The riddler seems displeased
The world seems to be changing
It’s a bygone era of hope
An era of hope soon to elope
With the new heir of tomorrow’s youthful intervention

The riddler walks, as he talks
Into the cornery alley and duskinson’s pub
Drinking some malt, in a small cup
For he has nothing no more.

The Perfect pen

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I cannot tell you how difficult it is. To be swallowed by the darkness. It’s empty yet it is filled with hate and dispare. What would it take to come out of it? The void of nothingness is without meaning. My very breathe echoes for eternity, yet still no soul in the slightest distance. It is cold, I try to move, break this floating feeling of emptiness it’s of no use. I do not even break a sweat. I lie still, wandering in the dark. No edges, no walls and no turns and crosses. Meandering in the vastness of the black space. I cry, tears come out but fall short of courage to let go of the only vessle that cares about them else they have no place to go in this vastness. My body might just explode and the shards of my life shall wander in the void of darkness still not ending this destitude of eternity.

I calm myself. I start to think. For it is my only salvation from the dark curtain that unfolds everytime I try to look with my eyes. What have I done to perish in this? What was the last thing that I ever did? Is this, it couldn’t be! It is too real to be true, I can feel the vastness, the floating stature of mine cannot be a mistake. But is it? Could this just be a part of me I have been ignorant towards? A dream? Reminding me of my failings yet to come if I do not succeed? Is this what lies ahead for fallen heroes who fall pray for an end?

Must I slumber? To recompile myself. To rid myself of this madness? Yes. That’s the doorway.
I close my eyes to see the same darkness that once bedazzled me. For i wake knowing that I had never opened them in the first place. I wake up from this unfathomable dream to see the burning wood turned into ash, to smell the morning haze, to feel the might of the sun kissing your skin and waking your senses.
Yes I have awakened, from this nightmare. But there is much more to see for I fear this journey has just begun.