Serendipitous Musings

Mythical

This is the most beautiful thing I have read in a long time. ❤

Saumya Kulshreshtha

I

We make myths out of the unrealized.

II

Love untouched
Is love curled
Into a scared ball
Pushed against the wall
Of the darkest passages
Of your most familiar,
Personal dungeon.
Love untouched,
Is not love undone.

III

He crept with feline grace
Shimmering, into that glass filled
With the only true liquid love.
He reflected, contorted,
Changing forms.
Elegant now.
Grotesque later.
Caught in a glass.
Tightened in a bottle.
Corked in a vision.
Free in the world.
Invisible in the Universe.

IV

Things fall apart
But the centre holds.
Silly centre.
Caught into its own
Twists
And twirls
And folds.

V

Love unrequited
Has its colours.
Break it through a sheet of liquid.
Sparkling clear?
Blurred, dear?
Buried, fear?

VI

While walking through a desert
I conjured a water in my mind
I conjured mirage in my mind
An illusion of an illusion later
I conjured comfort…

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Be

Of life. Of experiences.Of travels. Of explorations.

Of smiles. Of laughter.

Of pains. Of stains. 

Of thorns. Of roses.

Of snows. Of rains.

Of snapchats. Of poses.

Of life. Of experiences.

Of love. Of hate. 

Of dates. Of soulmates

Of singles. Of couples.

Of complex emotions. 

Of life. Of experiences.

Of ambitions. Of failures.

Of success. Of egos.

Of cheats. Of ethos.

Of loud clatters.

Of silent banters.

Of sex. Of ex.

Of you.

Of me.

Of him.

Of her.

Of it.

Of lits.

Of fuck offs. Fuck off.
No. Actually don’t. Just stop. And listen. And rebel. And break the rules. And yell.
Let silence of the temple bells signify faith.

Let having fish for a meal signify poverty.

Let good morning texts signify being enemies. 

Let absence define love.

Let being selfish be called emotional. 

Let being in love be called ambitious. 

Let having sex be a proud declaration.

Let travels be complex and incomprehensible. 

Simplicity is overrated. 

Let weirdness be awarded with oscar.

Don’t name your dog Oscar. Go find a better name. 

Let sadness be a thing of celebration. 

Let pain be glorified that you seek pain.

Let ambitions be stupid.

Let everyone be hit with the arrow of cupid.

Let just anything be.

Let it be.

Be.

Soliloquy

It’s been ages since I wrote here or anywhere as a matter of fact. I remember times when I used to post 3-4 poems a day, desperate need to express what I had to say. Then as I began to read more, I started writing less because I always felt that I won’t be able to either structure my idea or convey the emotion or would be adept with the use of words and language and sometimes I would think my writing blogs or poems doesn’t really matter to anyone. Why I started writing a blog? I don’t know if this is the only factor or there are others too but as a child I was always shy and too afraid to express myself but I remember writing diary as a kid. I used to pen down moments of celebrations and days when I used to get scolded. I started writing poetry and blogs when I came to college and began to discover myself and explore the real world on my own. There was identity crisis, who is Neha? A question that scared me and made me think. Now, I have graduated and I am doing my masters, I have an idea of myself and I feel secure. At the same time, I want to evolve as a person. I have only one goal, ie to be someone who is happy herself and who spreads happiness. I remember my professor quoting in our farewell that “Always evaluate your life on two grounds. First, how happy you are with yourself and second, how many people did you make happy.” And I believe that I am learning to live. And since books serve as my oxygen, I have discovered authors and poets who write so beautifully with so much of finesse that I think about ten times before writing a poem nowadays. But at the same time I feel so rich knowing about them and so poor that there’s still so much more to learn. I don’t know why I am posting all of this here because nowadays I write diary only for myself. I don’t feel the need to share my opinions out there because I feel like being a spectator or being in my shell working on myself numbing the pain of problems around because my parents told me that you my dear have all the solutions to your problems and the only thing is to realise the need to let go. 
And since it’s my post in 2017, happy new year. May this year be of learning to let go. 🙂

Coffee

Coffee.

Coffee is something that is necessary for adult life. It’s a beautiful and necessary addiction. My mother often scolds me for having too much coffee but the thing is you can never have too much coffee like you can never have too many books. It’s a drink for work, for deadline completion, for exams, for leisure, for bonding with new people you meet. It’s a drink that serves purpose. It is a drink that helps us pretend that we have a purpose in life. And it’s tasty.

So when my mother tells me not to have coffee because it interferes with my reproductive organs, I do listen to her occasionally. I did change mindless addiction of 6 cups a day to 2 cups or maximum 3 cups a day but the thing is I cannot abandon this lovely drink. The thing is I don’t want to abandon this lovely drink. I haven’t had my first kiss because I am always busy kissing coffee mugs with my favourite book with me. Dear coffee, you’re the only true love in my life. Thank you for your existence. 

Anymore. Not anymore. 

Dreams that together we saw.Memories that we created, stand raw.

I don’t want you anymore. 

I would rather walk alone.
Lips that once quivered at your touch, now are dry.

Eyes that shone when you smiled, now often cry.

I don’t want you anymore. 

I would rather walk alone. 
Your hands on my bare back sent chills down my spine,

When we shared romantic moments over red wine. 

All is slowly fading away.

My heart is slowly closing its way, for you..

Where you once lived. 

Where I felt alive.

It’s tiring now. 

I can’t do it anymore. 

I don’t want you anymore.

I don’t care.

BRA: This piece of cloth that covers my boobs and supports them is nothing but a cage. A prison that refuses me the right to breathe.
Why should I look womanly when I can look like a walking natural beauty without these torturing my tender boobs?

For whom should I conform to this norm of wearing a bra and not let it’s strap peep through? 

Why should I spend a fortune on these pieces of clothes whose glimpse causes people to judge me?

Why should I give you the right to judge?
I won’t listen.

I won’t wear it.

I will walk free.

I will let my boobs be.

I will let be.

WHY

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Why should I do things that I do? Why should I listen to you?
Why should I solve economic applications of matrices when I want to caress my beloved’s tresses?

Why should I pursue masters in economics when my heart belongs to Ghalib?

Why  did I take this up, if I want to give up?

Why am I here when my heart tells me to go elsewhere?

I am here because I have desires. I have desires to be rich on my own and enjoy luxuries with obligations to none. I am here because norms don’t let me switch from economics to literature, such is a future lecturer’s eligibility structure.

My head and heart are always in conflict, I love economics but technicalities get my heart hit. It doesn’t like getting hit you know.

I am Arjun from Mahabharata on the battle field. Indecisive, Insecure who doesn’t know.

I seek my Krishna in vain. In the end ,I only have to end my own pain.