Posts Tagged ‘Thoughts’


As the golden day passes by…
My urge to see you makes me cry…
Cruel sun… shines harsh on me
And evenings are on what not to be
Midst of all what makes me see
Your buttery eyes the joy for me
From morning seven to evening nine
More tears roll down but I am fine
Why is it so difficult for you to feel?
What’s inside me and urges u to appeal
They make me crazy I try not to see
Your buttery eyes d joy for me
I know it well I’m not the one for you
That day will come which ends blue
Am I deaf or blind to see?
What’s shouting within n wants to get free
Or is it you who’s binding me…
Your buttery eyes d joy for me
The questions are more and answers few
That black in me grew and grew
All those ugly shades of colour
My spirits getting as more duller
What only puts me on and on
Is the melody of your hearts chiffon
My only thing and hope of glee
Your buttery eyes… The joy for me

Abhishek Kumar
Sir Padampat Singhania University,Udaipur 
abhishekmr280@gmail.com

Contest :  It will heal with time ;Maybe|

in collaboration with Elements, SPSU Udaipur

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It was 9th grade and I was a new comer. I had shifted to so many schools already that the newness had stopped bothering me altogether. On any other circumstances, I won’t have bothered making friends, but I knew I had to spend the next four years here so I was looking around the class, trying to find a place where I fit in. Suddenly the class began, and to my utter disgust, the class teacher decided to call me in the front and introduce me like it was 1st grade. But what could I have done anyway? So I went and stood, smiled slightly and stared at the wall for most of the part.

When I sat, the desk where I was sitting alone was occupied. The guy sitting next to me was whitish, his eyes, coal black and hair covering most of his forehead. His hands were shivering and he was struggling to hold the pen straight. His expression was indifferent and he didn’t pay any attention when I came and sat next to him. I could smell the nicotine on his breath. He had obviously been smoking. Because I got so irritated with the smell, I passed him a couple of gums that I always kept with me. He was startled but without saying anything, popped both inside his mouth and silently started chewing them. For the rest of the day, I didn’t exist for him. 

Next day, when I came to the class, I found 5 gums on my desk with a note saying, thanks. Just that. The hand writing was pathetic, and there was nothing much to notice about the note itself. I kept it in my bag and the day passed as before. In the lunch, few girls approached me and we started chatting. One on them seemed to live near my place and I invited them over to my place in the evening. I didn’t see that guy for the day. 

When these people came home, I was in what I would usually wear; a sweatshirt and shorts. We went for a walk, and they left, and I thought maybe I found some new friends. Next morning, when I entered, everyone stared at me, and then started laughing. I saw the girls from yesterday, one of them, standing on the desk, and telling everyone, the length of my shirt and how my legs were visible, and how, I thought I was Paris Hilton. 

It was humiliating. I clutched my bag tightly, and walked out of my class, tears filled up to the brim, and the laughter following me. I didn’t know where I was going. It didn’t matter. I was just running away, from all these mean people, people who had managed to make her look like a complete idiot on the 3nd day of school.

I was running away when suddenly something pulled me in a deserted classroom, and hugged me tight. It was the  same boy from the class. He looked at me, and there was something in his gaze, that I hugged him tight and started crying. He didn’t hug me back this time round, but let me cry, as much as I could. When I had calmed down, he said, “I saw you with these girls yesterday, and I knew this would happen. Do you have sense of people at all? Oh, how could you. You are so new to this place. Well, welcome to the small town and growing up.”

I looked up at him with my moist eyes, and said nothing. He held my hand, and made me sit there for the complete period, and for the second class, took me to the class with him, and we sat on the same bench like the other day. I didn’t look up at anyone, but no one else uttered a single word of mockery. Maybe it was his fear, or the way he was being so protective of me, the girls came and apologized. I said it’s ok, but never dared make any friends. I would sit with a book, mu ipod in ears, and stay alone for most part in school. 

He would occasionally talk to me, or introduce me to his friends, and asked me to join him, but that was that. I could have even said we were friends. Not that it mattered anyway. I was a loner, and I had already had a bad experience. I was happy keeping my own distances from people. 

One day after school, he dropped in unannounced at my place. He started talking about random stuff, and in the same attire that I was so mocked of in school, we walked and talked for hours. He was the most random person I had met, and for the whole 9th grade, he kept me like this, protected me, and became my friend. My only friend in school. 

His name was Shaayan. I didn’t know where he lived, but we had a sort of a hang out place, a small milk dairy which had all the possible things apart from just milk. Then there was a small ground kind of a thing behind that, where we wandered for hours and hours. He taught me how to ride a scooty. How to play soccer, although I was hopeless to the power infinity, and I desperately tried, and failed to make him stop smoking. After a year, I stopped bothering. Smoking and he came in a package. I had accepted it. 

After our final exams, one day he took me to a far off place, and I asked him, if it was a date. It had been 6 months, since I had developed a crush on him, and it had started on my birthday, and his, when although I had never mentioned It to him, and went to wish him, he said, same to you. I had found myself blushing, and then, just like that, I fell in love. With him. He was way beyond love. He just didn’t look like that sort of a person. I never mentioned this to him, for the fear of complicating things. 

He said, maybe. It was weird. There, sitting in the rocks, looking down at the rocks, he asked me, if he could give me something. Something that had been in his family, for too long, and ran down generations, and was supposed to be given to the bride of the family. I was dumbstruck. ‘Are you sure?’ He looked at me in eyes, and said, without blinking, marry Me Saveraa. I don’t want you to be my girlfriend, I don’t want you to be my lover, I want you to be my wife. I love you.’

Kubul Hai, kubul Hai, Kubul Hai. 

I didn’t even need a second thought about taking the biggest decision of my life. 28th March. That’s when the ring came in my hands, and never even once, left the finger. 

The first year was perfect. He pampered me, he loved me, wooed me and loved me, like I would have never imagined. I was 14 when I got married, I turned 15 and I was living my perfect fairy tale. Something most girls just imagine living. Stupid, I know. Unbelievable, I know. But true. 

10th boards came and went and when the result came, things began to change. I had scored straight 20 % more than him, and he blamed me, calling me a distraction. I thought it was just a phase and would pass, but things technically never were same. All of a sudden, I was the reason when anything at all went wrong in his life. The blame game was increasing with each passing day. 

The smoking went on increasing and alcohol made his way into his life. One day we were walking when some random guy passed a comment on me. He was furious. He held my hand, turned me towards him, and slapped me hard across my face. I couldn’t imagine that it happened. He shouted and abused me, and told me how I didn’t have the antiquates to know what to wear and what to not. How I wanted to flaunt my legs to people, how my tee shirts were too tight or too revealing. That was the last time I ever wore shorts. 

The smoking and drinking continued, so did the slaps. It was more of a necessity for him now. I was his verbal punching bag and it didn’t bother him as to how much did his words killed me. Every day. He didn’t bother and I didn’t bother him, because I loved him, and I knew, he loved me too. We both were too strong for such minor glitches in the long long journey that we had started. 11th came and the physical relationship started to make an entry. 

Although I was reluctant, and very reluctant, he always got his way saying, you are my wife. I have the authority. And I never stopped him. I would never forget 24th Feb. That was the day; he went all the way with me. Inspite of the fact that I was crying, and begging him not to, he didn’t listen. Then, I came to know, 25th feb, just the next day, he was with some other girl. I cried myself to sleep, and asked myself; couldn’t he have waited for a day? 26th feb, we fought about something petty and he told me, “you’ve done it with me, how can I be sure, you won’t do it with someone else?”

That was the last time; I had some respect for myself. I gave in. The slaps turned to punches sometimes, burns and cuts too and kicks, to objects such as shoes, belts or whatever came to his hand. The bruises started to increase and deepen, and I covered them blaming them on my lazy self. Because I had absolutely no friends, and no one to talk to, and absolutely no idea why he couldn’t leave smoking, I started smoking too. Soon enough, I was an addict, and it was ok, it prevented me from thinking, and lessened the pain, atleast while the trance from smoking lasted. 

After 12th, we went to different colleges. I made friends, finally and in a way I was glad to be a little away. But long distance was even more painful. I couldn’t keep my phone busy, I couldn’t go out, I couldn’t talk to people for too long because no matter what I tried to hide from him, he always, somehow knew. And then, when he came once a month, the bruises became from bad to worst. 

Three years from college went this way, and then he insisted on getting officially married. Or atleast engaged. He wanted to mark me his, brand me with his name for he always suspected me going away with someone else. My parents and his objected out right. Inter religion? No way. But he had his own charming ways. He almost convinced me to run away with him, and I agreed. Inspite of all his infidelities, that he was pretty open about and I accepted and a part of him, as long as he loved me, which he did. Truly, madly, deeply. 

How would I always say it, even after so much? It was the way he apologized. How he would bring me flowers, and with teary eyes, say sorry, and steal my heart away. Again. How he would look so so sorry, and I knew he meant it. We were supposed to be together. Forever. And I told my parents that marrying him was exactly what I intended to do, with or without their support. They gave in eventually. 

Today was our engagement. This ring officially came into my fingers, and, I was ecstatic. I was so happy, that finally, he was mine, and I was his, and the world knew it. And then I saw him looking at her. I didn’t know who she was, but she was standing at the bar, and I just knew the look. When the dancing started, I refused, and he danced his way into the night with her. When they vanished, I knew exactly where they were and what they were doing. It broke my heart. Into tremendous pieces. I walked to our to be room, and saw them, on the same bed, that I would call ours. 

Because I had disturbed him, I received a slap, and this time, the force was so much, that my lips started bleeding. I was too ashamed, and too disgusted, and too hurt to have stayed there any longer. No one stopped me. And I took the first taxi out to this place. And here I am. 

So, you know. This. Has been my life. 

http://esotericmystica.blogspot.com/

Timefarer

Posted: January 5, 2012 by CampusWriting in Writes...
Tags: , , ,

He’s the Timefarer,
And he’s walking away.
As the hills turn to dust,
As the souls kneel to pray.
With tired eyes,
He’s walked past joy and demise.
He’s the Timefarer,
And he doesn’t have a say.
Though he’s seen the sun rise,
And kingdoms decay.
He walks alone.
With feelings written on stone.
He remembers every sight and sound.
Of celebrations, and of battlegrounds.
He walks past ’em, and sheds a dry tear.
Swallows his anger, joy and fear.
He Refrains from speaking a word,
As his voice should never be heard.
He knows the balance of bad and good.
And you might think him, misunderstood.
So, may the silence never drop.
And, may the walking never stop…
 …
Timefarer
He’s the Timefarer,
And he’s treading on the edge.
Keeping his solemn word,
Of an unspoken pledge.
To carry on;
Through circumstances come and gone.
He’s the Timefarer,
And his knowledge is his prize.
He can see the scent of purity,
And pick out the truth among lies.
He travels forth,
To find out what our lives are worth.
He remembers everything he’s seen.
Every nook and every corner he’s been.
He walks past ’em, and sheds a dry tear.
Swallows his anger, joy and fear.
He Refrains from speaking a word,
As his voice should never be heard.
And he knows that if he would,
We might have to pay in sweat and blood.
So, may the silence never drop.
And, may the walking never stop…
Sam Banerjee