Into you...

Deep rooted caves or pearl white shores,

Into dense little cities or furnished woods

I will follow the trail of your rested scent.

Hopping through each stones of time

One moment, one second

Following them etched footprints,

Through seasons, through calenders.

To watch in peace, in the end

What the world holds for us

Just pain, or more pain?

But never regrets!

Comments

Strangers over a Dosa

Bincy’s alight into the metro city hasn’t been a smooth transition. Kochi demanded more than what she had, her strength, both physical and mental. Even she wasn’t aware of what the city had in hold for her. Always, life demanded something heavily from her. Once it was her loneliness, then a breakup, and when she finally gathered her senses, her parents sworn to their duty to marry her off. She was a good human, a kind heart. So, every time she visits home she hurries back, not to come back but only to not stay. Why would anyone want to give her away? The wit’s demise in the hold of culture has been a debate that never had an end. Inside the bus under the scorching sun, the passing wind lifted her hair a little. The curls danced on the window pane as she held her head high hoping for better challenges, maybe easier ones. Other than the soothing melody that hummed through her earphones and into her lament thoughts, she was so out of company. The driver was busy driving of course, and th

How I Met Him

The walls of her home in Kollam were painted in despair and that dried up her soul in all her visits since she had joined the university at Thiruvananthapuram. So, every chance she had, Arathi ran back to the acres of land and the inhabitants that didn’t judge her. It was one such evening, a cold one in June. The heat of the summer was catching up to the PG student’s lives. All heftiness of papers, journals, projects, so and so on. The bus ride from Kollam to Kazhakuttam was two and half hours long, or ten to twenty songs and a nap long. But on that edge of the day where sun parted with the clouds and the absent moon shed light instead, there was only one song in her playlist on loop. There was no nap, no sightseeing, just a song looming through her ears, dancing with her on a deserted land faraway. Her smartphone’s keyboard memorized the words ‘Rangapura Vihara by Agam’. She was excited to meet them, to be in a concert, and that too her favorite band. All along the National Highway,

What makes an author?

According to me, a writer is someone who can encapsulate the emotions of the human mind and deliver the required hormonal rush to the brain cells of a reader through his magical alignment of molded words that take birth in his imagination and creativity. To recognize the efforts of all the writers from the one-liners to the great authors, each important and unique to the world of words. Thank you all. Check out my Instagram page for more info! Chat with me on my Facebook page!

My Thoughts on Love

Love The epic rush of butterflies inside the stomach or the pounding heartbeats within the freedom of the ribcage. Poets have penned down that innate feeling we experience regarding everything we know from the moon to the rain. Nothing can define that special feeling of falling in love, and it is probably the only fall we never want to recover from in our life. What is Love? Is it the teens holding hands, or just the bride kissing the groom in a well-lit hall? Here and there, everything is love. So, let us traverse through the lifetime of an average human and see where exactly does love happen. Life starts with birth when a human forms inside the mother's belly. In biology classes, you might have learned that reproduction starts with sex, and ironically, the act is also termed as 'making love'. So, that is the first instance of love which we will pass once again in the circle of life. A baby born into the world is first handed to the mother. With that ravis

Where Lilies Fall

Where Lilies fall. “Joseph, make sure that the arch can stand the wind. Be careful.” Kevin requested the decoration supervisor as he entered the vibrant hall. It was lit with chandeliers and warm lanterns everywhere. Xavier’s recreational hall was getting ready for another event for the dusk. Facing the white-sand shores of the Indian Ocean, the place was breathtakingly beautiful. The guests were slowly pouring in and Hailey, the golden retriever, distinguished Kevin’s cologne and followed his footsteps. He stopped and gave her a ruffle over the head, as the tail wagged and ears bent backward highlighting her puppy eyes. “Everyone is running around and you are playing with Hailey?” a familiar sound enunciated from the hallway. Kevin looked up to see Mr. Sharma with a playful giggle. Kevin wrapped his arms around the unexpected guest. “You came?” he shouted in excitement. Patting on his back, Krun

A sorry for myself!!!

Hi, I have a name, an identity, but i don't think it matters to you. It doesn't matter who I am, but the only thing that does, is what I convey. So, let's keep all the distractions aside and focus on the point. Have you ever wondered how bad we feel when we hurt someone, intentionally or not. And then when we realise what we did, gently try to sooth that blow with a magic word, 'Sorry'. Recently, I went through an incident where I was at the receiving end of an apology. That's when I noticed that, in the same way knowing my name hadn't mattered to you, that apology had no effect on me. That's when I realised after we hurt a person's feelings we apologise to them, but for ourselves. Even though it is directed to them, it's our heart that's losing weight. The apology is asked not to make a change in the other person because the damage once done is never retracted, it stays. And we know that, every time. That's how we slowly lose a soul or a

Time Machine

Taped into some old music, It's been long since we talked in rest. I remember the last time, It didn't turn out to be the best. We had our differences, I knew But we talked through it, u should know U said you liked movies a lot, with pop and flakes I said I'll stay up until 2am, if that's what it takes. Am at the top of the world, girl When you said that, you'll be mine. Now look at me, I'm under the hell But you still say that we a dream. Look at us, babe, through your heart You can lie to me in a pale old morning But you know deep inside, when the dusk is falling, That you and I are meant to be, in a wedding. I said I'll wait, for another eternity Even if it means there is no sure reality, Money, looks, personality? I never understood what I lacked to rectify. I don't wanna put you through that You said as you hung up on me Leaving me alone just like that I wish you came back to check on me. Days passed, years rolled, time changed We met again at a sh

Career: A Happiness Project!

Career If not anything, most of the youngsters in India are blessed with more than one turning point in his/her life that many of them end up in a loop after turning too much , one after another. Right after finishing the Tenth Board exams, we again take another turn during the Plus Two board exams. Some get a brief rest after that but prayers for those students who pursue Engineering or Medicine, it's the Wayanad pass for them ahead; from the entrance exams forward, every semester is a turning point. After an average of 15-18 years of toil in education, a graduate finally thinks the struggle is over for them. And a distant voice shouts 'Hold them horses, the fun ain't started yet, kid'. Their first interview, the first job, the second one, and the promotion, etc are all turning points. The person stands confused because the hero in the movies had so much time to woo the heroine, party with friends, and dance in the streets at least twice. And meanwhile

June's thirst

June drenched into her window sills Darkness of the moonlight filled her room Like ember disappearing into the tree's breath His sweat met hers over the waist line Their eyes meeting elsewhere, shut in ecstacy. Both souls rumbled wordless dances One followed the other, into an abyss. A dying star passed through the void cavern Mouths gazed as the forbidden soul's thirst was put out. Half painted walls whistled a melody damp bedsheet covers gossiped with pillows Bodies with breath floated in the night Souls met through lips, of ripe red lipstick. Birds didn't fly, cats didn't roam Clouds didn't stop, fences never closed Only the thirst remained; to live within love.

KaYa - Collection of Stories

Search This Blog