By My Lonely Teardrops Fall May 2, 2012
Posted by Akriti Bahal in Anger, Breakup, Heartbreaks, Sad.Tags: Betrayal
2 comments
Have loads to say, to reveal and fulminate, but no words today, just a song that I sing, because you know what I don’t sting.
My words are precious, won’t lose their comity even in the moments most treacherous. So, I choose to keep them ensconced in my diary, safe, you may have successfully wounded me, but you won’t get to even touch them, believe me. After all, if I vituperate, cuss and if I lash, then what difference from you will I have?
*It’s better to be loved and lost
Never to be loved at all
I wish I could believe these words
By my lonely teardrops fall.
Time to heal this broken heart
I wish I could believe these words
By my lonely teardrops fall! *
बोल तू.. April 12, 2012
Posted by Akriti Bahal in Fear, Feelings, hindi poem, Sad.3 comments
One song that describes my feelings all in one go. Sometime, songs understand you better than even your own soul.
~Rockstar (2011)
***
जब जब दर्द का बादल छाया
जब ग़म का साया लहराया
जब आंसू पलकों तक आया
जब यह तनहा दिल घबराया
हम ने दिल को यह समझाया
दिल आखिर तू क्यूँ रोता है ?
दुनिया में यूँ ही होता है
यह जो गहरे सन्नाटे हैं
वक़्त ने सबको ही बांटे हैं
थोडा ग़म है सबका किस्सा
थोड़ी धुप है सबका हिस्सा
आँख तेरी बेकार ही नाम है
हर पल एक नया मौसम है
क्यूँ तू ऐसे पल खोता है
दिल आखिर तू क्यूँ रोता है ?
And, few lines that always succeed to alleviate me when even I fail to advocate myself.
~ Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara (2011)
***
दिल में उमंग उठती नहीं
जब बार बार ये मन रोता है |
शब्दों के फूटने से पहले ही
जब आँखों में पानी जो होता है |
दिल कहता है बोल तू
सारी निराशा को पीछे छोड़ तू..
अब ज़ख्मों का निशान नहीं बचा
अब दर्द का एहसास नहीं बचा
काली खायी में
सन्नाटे की परछाई में
अब डर नहीं लगता
कहने को है अँधेरा
पर लगता है वहीँ बसेरा |
फिर भी दिल तू कहता है, बोल तू?
सारी निराशा को पीछे छोड़ तू?
Although, this poem stays incomplete, because in life some hope remains obsolete.
~ A page from my diary
Dated – January 11, 2012
***
Fear -> Happiness -> Love -> Fear March 16, 2012
Posted by Akriti Bahal in Fear, Feelings, Fiction, Happiness, Life, Love, Sad.11 comments
·•♦ तीजा तेरा रंग था मैं तो
तीजा तेरा रंग था मैं तो
जिया तेरे ढंग से मैं तो
तू ही था मौला तू ही आन
मौला मेरे ले ले मेरी जान | ♦•·
***
What is fear?
You say fear is the unpleasant emotion caused by the belief that someone or something is dangerous, likely to cause pain, or a threat. Very well agreed. I know I experience fear every night when I hear eerie voices coming from the other room, which is in fact, empty. When I see abrupt moving figures or a glimmer of light in the deceased hours of the night. When I’m inches away from being hit by a car, only because I couldn’t gather my thoughts fast enough, as someone *threatened* to slay me.
Well, but can’t fear be innocuous? Or maybe engendered due to love for someone? Moreover, can’t fear be titled as a precursor for surfeit of emotions? (And I mean positive and happy emotions.)
With this, my definition for fear differs a little. I say fear is the feeling that a little child has at the incipience of his stepping out, feeling that he will lose his mother. And this fear engenders true emotions, when it is proven wrong each time he returns. Fear is the feeling that a girl about losing her love, and maybe, fear is also the feeling that the guys feel at the very reference of commitment. (Okay, well, I have no more examples. Period.)
What is real happiness?
You say happiness is a state of mind or feeling characterized by contentment, love, satisfaction, pleasure, or joy. Well then, you got me wrong. I asked about *real* happiness. I think *real* happiness is the feeling when you see some other person smiling because of you. When you put your incubuses aside only because someone else needs to have a smile. When you’re altruistic enough to do so.
So, according to me real happiness is the feeling characterized by the *real* happiness of another person, and his satisfaction leads to your contentment, satisfaction, pleasure and joy.
But, can this happiness be pernicious or the cause of ruin? Yes, it can. Because in this suspicious world, selfless means fishy and caring about someone means meddlesome.
What is love?
Google tells me, love is an emotion of strong affection and personal attachment. I think Google too has no lucid explanations for it. You say love is… What? You tell me? Because for this one, I too have no definition.
Crumpled, Crushed And Crippled –> LIFE? February 18, 2012
Posted by Akriti Bahal in Feelings, hindi poem, Life, Sad.Tags: Materialism
11 comments
It flows with a breeze of wind
It flutters with a hefty storm.
It lies in solitude
At a place so still
While you speedily rush
For your work, your greed
For your desires, your need
As if in a contest with the swarm.
It crumples and crushes;
It chafes its skin
As you step with your horde
Laughing with superiority
At the norm.
It endures your kicks and shoves;
It loses its way in the crass world
As you merrily run and joggle in conform.
Soon the white turns pale
And then muddy black.
The wrinkles grow deep
And the scars, irreparable
Even begin to trace a track.
It still lies there helpless, in pain
With the marks of your shoes on its face
As if just beaten by a group of bullies
In sheer disdain.
With tears and cuts
Rips and ruts,
Bearing your spits and dirt,
It feebly mutters–
कभी किसी को इतने गहरे घाव न दो, के उसके निशान कभी न जा सकें |
And the rumpled piece of paper
That was worthless to all
Still lies there forlorn.
When The World Blacked Out February 11, 2012
Posted by Akriti Bahal in Anger, Feelings, Heartbreaks, Humaneness, Life, Love, Sad, Struggle.10 comments
It’s strange how, sometimes, the saying- कभी कभी अपने भी पराये हो जाते हैं, begins to fit perfectly into the pits of your life.
Wondering whether humans are programmed to be impertinent animals or if humaneness actually exists, I go through conflicting thoughts within myself. Period.
Immense pain suddenly fills my soul, as I sit in the class enduring every tiny fleck of it. Counting every minute as it passes, I curse, as there are still three hours to go before I can rush home. Wondering if I’d be able to tolerate more, and further contemplating if I’d be able to reach home safely; I gather strength, bring in courage seeing that at least I have someone sitting beside me who’d make sure I land home safely. Someone I can rely on.
I tell my friend, “I’m having terrible pain. I don’t know how I’d be able to attend it for the complete time.”
“Tell Sir, go out and take a medicine”, I get a reply.
“No medicine helps me! I’ll bear it till the end somehow.” I try to tolerate the pain as it intensifies.
I, somehow, managed to hold the pain till the terminal, as the class ends. In hopes that my friend would care for my condition, I hoped he’d sternly offer to drop me home making sure I’m safe. Just to make sure I don’t black out and fall somewhere in between, in the route. But, the air abruptly darkens and a skirmish breaks out between us and results in criticism and- in the opposite. Unable to bear it more, I decide to go home on my own, covering the one and half hour long journey completely on my own, with this pain; though inside me I knew it would be really tough and still hoped for some help.
To my surprise, the very next moment my friend rushed his car past me, rushed it towards his home and I was left standing there all alone.
I gathered strength, and began walking towards the Metro Station, now the pain hitting my back as well. Amid my entire journey, I tried to fool the black outs and the dizziness many times, when finally they took over.
I tripped down with black out at the Inderlok Metro Station, the crowd suffocating me. I didn’t know whom to call, I didn’t know how to assemble myself again, I just wanted someone to make me sit. Everything was just black, I could hear voices which seemed like screeches. Chaos. More suffocation.
When finally, someone stepped in to help me, to take me to the bench and offer me with water. Within few moments, I could breathe again, I could see again. The air seemed to clear a little. There was still pain, though, but I felt better as oxygen rushed into my lungs. I called my Dad and finally, reached home.
Today, I was scared. Really scared, when alone.
I don’t know who helped me, I wasn’t in my senses, but whoever did, I’m really thankful. I really needed it.
In the same day, I experienced two paradoxical feelings about humans- कभी कभी अपने भी तुम्हे अकेला छोड़ देते हैं, और कभी कभी पराये भी तुमारी मदद करने के लिए आगे आ जाते हैं |
Still lying in pain weakening all my limbs, I wonder whether it’s selfishness or selflessness that will overpower if I began to estimate.
Well whatever it be, I learnt a lesson on promise day- Not to rely on anyone except your family, at least they’ll make sure you are always safe.
*Promise Day- Ironical*
Period.
Love Letter: To Jenny, From Boot February 7, 2012
Posted by Akriti Bahal in Feelings, Fiction, Life, Love, Peace, Sad.14 comments
It had not stopped raining all evening, the dark grey clouds scudding across the city skyline until they were swallowed by night. The relentless downpour confided people to their homes, blanketing the street so that all that was audible outside was the occasional swish of tyres on a wet road, or the gurgle of swollen drains, or the brisk footsteps of someone trying to get home.
There were no messages on her answer phone, no winking envelopes suggesting a text message on her mobile. Her emails were confined to junk mails. Her facebook notifications indicated to zilch. She sat cross-legged on the sofa, sipping her second glass of Rum and rereading the text messages brawling and clamoring at her. There lay those letters, which she had begun to believe were only a figment of her imagination, and here were those text messages. She dodged glances between the two. It is nine hours since she left their apartment, but her mind is still humming. She sees the idyllic Boot; his eyes playfully teasing and searching only for his Jenny. She pictures her cosily cuddling with him, she sees her being adamant, being obstinate and yet being pampered by him.
Thiers, she thinks, was a ‘love’ affair that meant something. He was a man who cracked himself open in front of the woman he loved; he sought to understand her and tried to protect her, even from herself. What did she have? A career falling into an abyss each day, no friends and a feelingless partner who hated the word ‘care’.
She knows she shouldn’t drink any more, but she feels angry, mournful, nihilistic. She pours another glass, cries, and rereads their letter again. Like Jenny, she now feels she knows those words by heart.
Being without you – even a few kilometers away – brings me a strange uneasiness of its own. I don’t know what more to say, because I am no speaker but one thing I know for sure is that I love you, I love you very much, and I wanna keep taking care of you just like this for the rest of my life.
She pictures her beau John standing right in front of her, hears him saying the words to her, and alcohol makes the two blur into each other – Boot and John. How does one lift one’s own life out of the mundane and into something epic? Surely one should be brave enough to ‘love’, isn’t it? She pulls her mobile phone from her bag, something dark and bold creeping under her skin. She flips it open to send a text to John, her fingers offish on the keys:
‘Please call. Just once. Need to hear from you please.’
She is giddy as she struggles with the send button. She knows he won’t respond. Conundrum. She presses the delete button.
Her head sinks into her hands and she weeps for Boot, for Jenny; she cries for herself, because nobody will ever love her like he loves Jenny. She cries because she is afraid of her own self, of her thoughts because she makes herself feel miserable and pitiful all the time.
She poleaxes her head subconsciously when she hears the door bell, she gets up to see.
“Hey fatso! Oh my God, scary fatso!”
She blinks, “Rory.”
“Nope, let his ghost in.”
She bites her lip and leans against the wall. There is a brief silence.
He eyes at her with a questioning countenance. She grimaces. “Not been a great evening.It’s fine if you want to go.” He takes another look around, “Well, drunkard! Where’s the tea pan?”
“It was a weird day. I, I -” suddenly she begins to cry again, tears pouring. “I’m sorry I’m soo- I don’t know why I am being so ridiculous.” She feels a hand on her shoulder, “Hey!” he says softly, “Hey, Shhh.. there’s nothing to worry.”
How would you know? She thinks. Nobody knows what is like me. I’m not even sure I know. He gathers her, trying to calm her down, “You’re beautiful and graceful and intelligent. Okay, perhaps not graceful”, he winks. She rests her head against his shoulder.
“I’m afraid.”
“Of?”
Her voice drops to a whisper, “I’m afraid nobody will ever love me like that.”
His eyes softened, his face shrunk a little, as if in sympathy. He picked up the letter and read aloud:
The day I first saw you, I was too shy to even come up and talk to you, and when you talked to me, words refused to come out. I’ve acted weird, I’ve acted crazy just to be noticed by you! I made a joke of myself when I bent down on my knees at the taxi station, but all that teasing of my friends seemed nothing when I got that worldly smile from you. Yes, you blushed! That expression, I have deep stored inside my heart.
Your smile means everything to me and I can go through any suffering to bring that.
She had closed her eyes. His voice, soft as cotton. She imagines how Jenny must have felt to be loved, adored, wanted.
I am not as good as you, but being with you, it makes me feel as if I’m something too. You are my most precious gift which I’ll always keep delicately safe with me.
Suddenly, she is driven out of it, she realizes it was – A dream. She still lays miserably with scattered letters and the Rum bottle.
Presently, -she would die for a hug right now.
पन्ना मेरी डायरी का.. January 28, 2012
Posted by Akriti Bahal in Feelings, Sad.16 comments
कभी ज़ख्मों पर मलहम लगाकर देखो तुम
कमज़ोर डगमगाती शाखाओं की ढाल बनकर देखो तुम |
गुमसुम सी, मासूम सी
जब वो तुमारी ओर देखती है
दुनिया से छुपकर,
ज़माने से बचकर
जब वो हाथ थामने के लिए बड़ती है |
तुम मूंह फेरते, तुम पीछे हटते
तुम लोगों से खुदको बचाते, तुम दुनिया से आँखें छुपाते
लेकिन उसकी उम्मीद फिर भी नहीं टूटती है |
तुम्हारा साथ कभी तोह होना है |
~ Dated – 19/12/2011
Because I Was Too Busy Too Care January 27, 2012
Posted by Akriti Bahal in Humaneness, India, Sad, Satisfaction.Tags: Humanity
6 comments
How many times do we find ourselves present in a place of commotion and we actually act for it? How many times have we stood up to support a cause to bring in any change? How many times have you stepped up for others, if your aid could be the one that could change a person’s life?
Of course you don’t remember, because you were too busy to care.
We all do stop by traffic signals every now and then and we all, surely, do come across young kids begging with wounded and bruised hands. I agree that’s a different sort of business that goes on in our country, but have you ever stopped to humbly ask any one of the little souls; maybe have a complaisant conversation with one of them? Who knows, out of his innocence and ‘love for chocolates’, he might just end up telling you what goes on behind the scenes. Did you ever get down of your luxurious car to do so? Oh! Maybe you were just too scared of the rash Delhi roads to get out. Okay, understandable! I sympathize with you.
India. Winter. The hot tea. And the tea stalls. Yes, I know you get the very picture of it, we all Indians do. As much as we love to bring in the Indian-ness by binging in on a cup of strong hot tea (or I should say, a glass of strong hot tea) from a tea stall, that much we also like to ignore the things that goes around us. Yes! Yes! You would probably speed up your car to specially reach your favourite tea stall, get served by a chotu, but you would never care to even give a second thought to talk to the kid, trying to make him cognizant of the wrong and thus,saving him from child labour. Have you ever stopped to spend a minute of your precious time to do so? Or, probably it was just too cold for you to act. Okay, justifiable enough.
Living in a country like ours, where everyone is on a run, a different form of F1 race is seen on the roads everyday with new participants signing in each day. When the number of participants increase to a myriad, so does their racer-cars, and also does the road accidents. How many of us have actually come out to help a victim of an accident? Or maybe, you just considered it as just-another-histrionic-event and sped your car away from it. Of course, you were in a rush to reach home as you were missing your favorite TV serial -a better dramatic deal. Fair enough.
Then, can we say that humanity still dwells inside us? We easily expostulate for what we do or just say, “Who cares?!”
In one way or the other, we are always carping and find excuses to blame someone or something. How many times do we actually act? Sometimes Yes, Mostly No! Because most of us are just Too Busy To Care. We feel for the issue, imbue the commotion, we even feel inspired to do something, but most of the time, that inspiration loses its way in our packed, no-time-to-think, no-space-to-breathe, BUSY schedules.
Realizing, I can say that if I had stopped to help the tenuous woman in rags who abruptly fell on the road, maybe out of undernourishment, then maybe humaneness still existed, at least for her it did. If I had politely reacted to the kids begging near the shopping complexes, and hadn’t angrily rebuffed their presence when they touched my arm, then maybe mankind still persisted for some lots.
Palpable feeling.
And It won’t go without any events of healing.
Yeah This time.
Because everything is disseminating into the air.
And this time
I am not too busy that I won’t care.
I Stare At The Girl Who Stares Back At Me January 19, 2012
Posted by Akriti Bahal in 2012, Feelings, Fiction, Life, Peace, Sad, Satisfaction.Tags: girl in the mirror, having faith, lonely, mirror image, reflections, woman in the mirror
11 comments
Rummaging through the dressing table of my thoughts, fiddling with the hair clips and the barrettes inside the chaotic silver box; searching for that tiny dazzling piece, fishing for an iota of glow and lease which can wash away all the filthy grease; I glance at the mirror. I look at the reflector sitting right in front of me, with a quiescent face much out of haze, gazing at the striking work when light meets its base. It engenders a new soul, which will always remain.
It sees you through when you cry. It hears you, sits with you when you don’t want anyone to pry. It supports you in the scorching Sun, it stays with you in the dark night’s run. When even the street lights fail to ease the plight, it moves along with you in the form of your shadow, so that you don’t lose your way through the seedy plateau.
I stare at the girl who stares back at me. Yeah, the girl in the mirror looking right in my eye with fervor.
Look at me, she says. Do you really recognize me, she surveys. You may think you see who I really am, you may feel you know where I come from. A mere mirror image, is what you call me. But, I am the ‘you’ which nobody besides me gets to see. Now, if I tell you about my part, I’m not just a figure lost in the gloominess of the dark; you can fool the world, but not my heart.
Back in time, you rebelled about the Mask that covers each one of us; trusting your thought, having faith in your insurgent slots, I hoped for more of your adamant chants, if that’s what made you rant. What happened to your expressions now, what blockades them from extruding out? Are they somewhere deep in hiding, or are they just safely residing?
I gaze at the woman in the mirror in amaze, wearing the same mask as me, but with a transparent veil and a higher sage. I utter with unrest, maybe even a little detest, “Who is this girl I see, staring straight back at me?”
I am now, I am you. I am someone that you were to transform and imbue, she expresses with a slight rage as if wanting to come out of the mirrored cage. This time with a saddened look, she shook, I don’t know what lies behind the glassy wall, is it a world where you are forced to hide your heart, or is it something you chose yourself to depart? I don’t know, I just don’t know, but one thing I would echo. There’s a heart that must be free to fly, that burns with a need to know the reasons why, when you keep it beneath a thickened ply.
I scowl as I raise my voice and frown, “Quit or I shall leave. Everybody arrives with their own set of preachings, coming close and then screeching. They know how to categorize and theorize, but nobody really knows how to empathize.”
Her countenance deepened, her brows wrinkled due to the feelings that under went vigorous fissions. And, this time she asked, “Who is this girl I see, staring straight back at me?”
With this she vanished in the hour of commotion, but she still remains with me with the same notion.
They Haunt Me December 24, 2011
Posted by Akriti Bahal in Breakup, Heartbreaks, Love, Sad.7 comments
They annoy me
They terrify me
They bring in alarm.
They suffocate me
They depress me
They agonize my charm.
They haunt me when the world is asleep
The haunt me when the places call for a keep.
My sketching!
They rip me apart
When smile begins to take a start
They hit me hard
When teardrops roll down
Because of the piercing shard.
They haunt me in the bright daylight
They haunt me in the murk of the night.
Impostor; they are
Con; is their favorite time pass.
Double-crossing; is what they believe in
Flattery; is how they proceed with this sin.
Selfish; they be throughout
Obscurity; they bring in without any doubt.
Hideous; is their thinking
They screw your life without any blinking.
Obsequious; they are to boundless heights
They twist n’ turn, they squeeze n’ burn;
With this they squash your little soul, tight.
Success; is what they dwell for
Love; is their game
In the name of which; they mentor.
Manipulative; they are by birth
Treachery; they learn to unearth.
They rob your dreams
They steal your sight
While they call you their life.
They fool you
They break you
They cease you from your own life.
They shackle you
They murder you
While they enjoy with their second-life.
They haunt me under the flames of Sun
They haunt me in the frost of gun.
They haunt me when seasons change
They haunt me when festivities pour their rain.
They haunt me not because they made me cry,
While they laughed in frolic like the monsoons of July.
They haunt me because they snatched n’ slayed;
They made me hate Love,
When it was the only thing I did rely.
>> A girlfriend to her boyfriend- “Tu chahe toh tu mujhe apna password dede, shayad mere laptop se login hojaye, pta chal jayga ki tere laptop mein problem hai ya your account is hacked.”
Boyfriend- “Terko lagta hai main tujhe apna password dunga?!”
And that was a relationship!
(~Stupid imaginary friends~)
