Universe is musical

Universe is musical. Nights are calm and beautiful with music pouring in the silence where the silence is silent with notes of music playing around as if they are hugging. As the sun sets and the moon arrives shining bright radiating poetry. The universe is musical with stardust pouring from heaven when the bird coos early in the morning on a winter when the sun is about to rise. The trees sing songs of a home in a whisper which you listen when the heart and the mind are not separate but one in a moment. The wind speaks to me while it kisses the folds of my hair, making love to my eyes making them close with the anticipation of beautiful dreams in reality. The universe is musical when the music of the heart syncs with the musical silence of my room where the dream catcher reminds me of discovery of the music of the heart which was all within me. Universe is a personal concept making love with life in the silence of music where the silence silences.

Sing because life is all about feeling the notes of love floating. :’)

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Fairy Tales

There she was, sitting by the window

Listening to the fairy tales her mother told her.

She would watch the birds and become one of them.

There she was, listening to Harry Potter and pictured herself as Ginny falling for Harry at the age of 12.

There she was, watching Disney princess movies

She thought of herself as the princess.

Her dad made her the princess in real life.

There she was, being Hermoine in her 12th. She became one for real.

There she was, being Mitchie from Camp Rock in her graduation. She became one. “This is me” became her favorite song.

There she was, falling for a guy and getting her heart broken. She turned to Geet from Jab We Met.

She is her own favorite person. A broken heart makes her smile even more.

There she was, growing up, becoming a woman,

She became a warrior princess instead. She fought her battles. Won some. Lost some. She remained the princess nonetheless.

She again fell in love and created a fairy tale.

She pictured her favorite love story with the guy she loved.

She sees the reality. Knows fairy tales don’t really exist. Yet she lives in one.

Her life has always been a fairy tale even when it was not.

She is a fairy tale.

She is her own fairy. She has a world of her own.

Who says fairy tales aren’t real? They are.

For her.

All she did was to dream one.

Our love is wrong timing.

Neha: Darling,

You’re the sunlight in the North Pole 

That doesn’t exist half of the time.

You’re the wind that blows on the cold chilly nights.

Darling, you were never mine.
My heart belongs to warmth and bright days,

You are too dark for me.

I shouldn’t be the one you should chase.
Love for me is transient and permanent at the same time.

You are too lost to know that,

Let’s not waste time

Karan: And all this while,

I thought our love was like wine. 

Tasting better with each passing year,

With each year worth a lifetime.

Neha: You say it’s wine,

It just kept on getting sour with time.

Warmth, love, and care were just layers beneath the frost of our hearts.

The sun is never enough in poles.

Karan: I chose to live with it, 

While you chose to leave. 

You continue to live,

While I die daily!

Neha: It’s all a matter of time,

You’ll learn to live after you’ve died.

I died a long time ago.

This time, I don’t even exist.

It’s my soul fighting for life and for sunshine.

Our love is nothing but wrong timing.

The very idea of Romance

Romance: if we look at the origin of this word, it means ‘beautiful’ and this was first used to address the beauty of the evening sky. That’s how the concept of romantic weather came into being. And over the years, romance started to get associated with love. Essentially romance is love that is not long lasting as per definition. It is transitory.

(For verification of the above, read about it in evolution of language articles on Google.)

Now, the very idea of Romance is exciting on most days if you’re not a cynical person or allergic to anything cheesy like some of my friends. I find myself constantly in a battle when it comes to the idea of Romance. On most days I am a hopeless romantic falling in love with life, nature, experiences, people and food. Romance is an extremely important aspect of my life because of my parents who are so much in love that even after decades of being together, they make me believe that fairy tales exist for real and love is one thing that can make you move mountains. I call my life a poetry. A poetry full of joy, love, sorrows and occasional moments of depression as well. 

The very idea of Romance is enough to make me happy. Going for a walk is romance, being curled up with a mug of hot chocolate is romance, having a beautiful conversation with someone is romance, pulling off an all nighter just to read favorite erotica is romance, travelling around the city aimlessly and having fun is romance, and I can go on forever. You don’t need a guy or a girl to experience romance to be honest. But having company helps. Sometimes I romance my mother by taking her out on a date and all we do is walk and talk about silly things which we don’t get to discuss while at home. Every morning my mother is working in the kitchen and the moment I wake up, first thing I do is to go and hug her from the back. This has been my routine for I don’t know how many years. 

My last couple of days have been really romantic. I have done almost everything I listed above, going for a walk, having food, talking to a friend and laughing and then reading my favorite book in the light of the Darkness. But love hurts at some point or the other. One is very naive when one is in love and I am an extremely stupid human when I love too much. Sometimes I think that love needs to be a bit more rational but then what about this heart which doesn’t understand the concept of rationality. Everyday life is a constant conflict between the idea of Romance and being this sensible human being. Because no matter who we are or what we do, love does not make sense and it is not supposed to make sense. Love is totally nonsensical but we have to keep doing it like Ted Mosby. 

If we don’t let our hearts bleed, have we really lived? 

प्रेमिका

प्रेमिका: इम्तेहान-ए-ज़िन्दगी की राह में,

आज उड़ने को जी चाहता है,

मेरे पांव टिक नहीं रहे ज़मीन पर,

ज़रा हाथ थाम लो।

कवि
: तुम हाथ थामने की बात करती हो,

मैं तो वो पंख ला दूंगा मोहब्बत का, 

के आकाश नीचे आ तुम्हारे पांव के इशारों पर झूमे।

प्रेमिका
: ये जो तुम कवि बन, 

सपनों की दुनिया में ले चलते हो,

इश्क़ में खौफ पैदा हो जाता है,

सिर्फ हाथ थामने को कहा था,

प्राकटिकल इश्क़ नहीं होता तुमसे?

कवि
: हाहाहा! तुम भी अजीब हो,

शायद इसीलिए साथ हो,

नज़रें झुका दूर न जाओ,

करीब आओ, इज़हार-ए-इश्क़ जो तुमसे करना है।

प्रेमिका: आज, तुम फूलों को देखो और मेरे झुमके से गुफ्तगू करो,

नज़र नहीं मिलाऊंगी आज,

इकरार-ए-इश्क़ जो तुमसे करना है।

कवि: प्रिय, तुम पूनम के चांद की रोशनी बन इकरार कर दूर जा रही हो,

नज़र न मिला फिर वही अमावस्या की रात बन मेरी कल्पना होती जा रही हो..

सूर्योदय हो गया है।

Images courtesy: Royale Frames

And you broke my heart just like that

Dear girl who called me family and made me her sister,

You have been way too close all of a sudden,

My life started revolving around you,

I loved you with all my heart and you broke my heart just like that.

You made me feel good about life and with you around it was what I called “zindagi Gulzar Hai”

And whenever we hugged, the time stopped and it was surreal. 

There was love so pure and real and you broke my heart just like that.

I chose not to care about it because it was a friendship of 4 months but love doesn’t see the time, 

Love happens in long hugs, beautiful conversations and letting eyes talk. 

Everything was there and you broke my heart just like that.

You left. It’s fine 

You left without reason. It’s fine but it hurts

And people do move on and I will too but you broke my heart just like that. 

You call yourself old school like me 

I am sorry my friend, (can I still call you my friend?)

You are not old school, you’re one of the current generations who chose to abandon rather than talk and make things work or part ways on a good note with proper closure which we read and hear about in movies like Kabhi kabhi.

I am afraid you took the easier exit and broke my heart just like that.

​Can a Soul be Sad and yet not Dark?

Yes. And no. Honestly I do not know. Because souls are beings. They define our very existence. Souls are neither happy nor sad. Souls are just souls. Souls are life and a proof that we are alive to feel the emotions of sadness and happiness. Darkness is an attribute we associate with emotions of sadness, jealousy, envy while happiness, bliss and laughter are the light in our lives but two contradicts can very well coexist. How I cannot explain but you can feel them. Being sad doesn’t make you a dark human or a dark soul because a sad person either gives up on life and commits suicide or he uses his sadness to create art. Art that will be so powerful and passionate that it will make you feel uncomfortable. Dark poets are always celebrated yet criticised. Paradox? Irony? Maybe. Because some things are so intertwined that it’s impossible to pinpoint. Fascinating are those that radiate sunshine through their wounds of hurt and sadness. And divine is this thought that gives meaning to art and life. 
My dear, souls cannot be dark, souls cannot be sad. Souls can only be drunk. How? Ask the Nightingales.

हवा-ए-इश्क

सुनो?

आज हवा ज़रा ठंडी है, करीब आजाओ,

तुम्हारा हाथ थामना है।

तुम्हारे हाथों की गर्माहट में मानो, ज़िन्दगी का सुकून है।
And when you look at me with those eyes,

There’s a fire that lights up inside the cells of my body and want to embrace you in a sudden fashion so that when my head rests on your chest, I listen to the song of your heart singing love songs.
तुम मेरे अंदर वो एहसास जगाते हो, जिसे मैं खो चुकी थी,

तुम्हारा होना ज़िन्दगी को गुलज़ार कर देता है।
हो सके तो मेरे प्यार के गुलाब में मोहब्बत की खामोशी बन जाना।
I’ll love you in silence. You just keep the windows open when winds come to say hi. 
फिर जब किसी दिन कोई हवा का रुख तुमसे मिल जाए, समझ लेना के मैंने प्यार भेजा था।

-Neha

Flow of Life

wordpressIn this journey of life,

we all flow like some semi-solid liquid,

slowly moving on because we have to

but resisting change too.

In the process of growing up,

we feel like grown ups.

Life has become a bit stable

when we have so much work on our tables.

Workaholic is what I am becoming,

Sunday’s sleep is what feels like the homecoming.

Friendships are few and happy

Love life is as non-existent as the battery in the lappy.

“Ambitious ladkiyon ki zindagi mei pyaar k lie jagah kahan”

Profound are such discussions with dear girlfriends,

This poem will now end.

“Jeena yahan, marna yahan

Iske siwa, jaana kahan.”