Just another fearer!

It's strange how they think I play well with the colours. I am one of those who hates the very essence of the colours that surround. This is not because I don't like them, this is simply because it reveals a lot more than what I want to see and believe. Colours are that ugly medium which pretend to beautify things but end up revealing your dark side to yourself. It is strange how colours take that liberty of showing my unwept tears while I have been working hard on smiling all day.
I am not an artist, I will never be one. It's just strange that I fear two things in the universe i.e. MIRROR and COLOUR.
Being one of those who would never want to accept things the way they are, I feel it's quite obvious to fear the mirror. At times I feel it's the combination of mirror and colour which has made all of us so helpless.
In an era in which we pretend to live while all we do is breathe and function like a machine; it is this brutal colour which wants to break the monotony and probably wants you to feel the good, the bad and the ugly. The mirror, in front of which you stand tall everyday while combing your hair, tucking in your shirt etc only to help yourself accept that you look presentable for the world that doesn't even give a damn about your existence. How many times have you pretended to ignore the dark circles under your eyes or the wrinkles on your cheeks. And in case by chance you tend to embrace it which again is a very possibility all you tend to do is ignore yet again.
Ignorance is bliss this say, ignorant is surely at bliss, usually; however the ignored is usually screaming and screeching silently. The other day as I stood in front of the mirror I saw a lot of things in my reflection which I didn't want to see. Like, a couple of white hair on my head, deep dark circle and the marks of those wounds which I have been pretending to ignore. I am no artist or perfectionist. I have my own flaws which I pretend to be okay with.
It is in such times you start cursing the colour and the mirror, for showing you what you want to ignore. Obviously, colour and the mirror aren't as joyous as your salary cheque but nonetheless are equally essential.
It's laughable how our very own reflection tends to demoralise us every damn day. The colours which our soul wants to show are the ones which we want to hide. To keep it simple let's just say self and the employed self are two very different people. Employed self believes ignorance is bliss whereas Self has always suffered because of the pain that ignorance brings along!

Also published on: “It's strange how they think I play well with the colours.” @devyanikitu https://medium.com/@devyanikitu/it-s-strange-how-they-think-i-play-well-with-the-colours-2acdf3a89c3c

Fine?

You know what?
I love to hate
This feeling of
Pretending to be
FINE.

I'm not fine
Nor are you
We are fooling each other.
And ourselves too.

We don't have to
We don't need to
But, we still do.

I'm a fool
And, so are you
Maybe we are just
Used to pretending
To be fine.

What is fine?
Who is fine?
Why do I have to be fine?
Why do you have to be fine?

Why can't I be
Not fine at times
Why can't I be
Crazy all the time.

I am what I am
And fine is what it is
I'm not fine
And fine is not me  either

We're different
And our difference
Is what makes us different
I'm something
You're different something
But none of us our
Something called
FINE.

Patterns and confusions!

Out of love - 43!

From unhealed wounds to scars was a difficult journey, but from scars to numbness was a cake walk.
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Connections may or may not be re established but bonds certainly aren't.
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i travelled from one place to another, only to realise how captivated my footsteps were.
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Travelled around and across the world, pretended to meditate a bit, nothing helped. Finally, found a tinch of peace in her glowing eyes.
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No matter what a little bit of light and a thin ray of hope will always make there way to your dark soul 

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Unquote those familiar quotes and you'll probably realise why they embrace pain with such grace.

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In this quest to be yours truly, have I lost you already?

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Only if you could pretend to acknowledge my silence. The silence which has been vocal for sometime now. 

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The reason why I can't get rid of the ugly art that resides in me is probably because of the unwept tears!

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A reply instead of blue ticks and the deepest sigh of relief. 

                                           

Need indeed!

You're not air
You aren't water
Yet, you're much more
Essential than these two.

We may not talk everyday
We don't meet very often
But, I know you're there
And you know that too.

Your smile, my happiness
The glow in your eyes
Is how I define bliss
Your signature, my healer.

I don't fear to lose you
Maybe because,
I don't have the courage
To fear that fear.

I want to hold on
The times we spent
The memories we've made
And the ones we will make

I know you're there
Now and hopefully forever
You aren't a blessing
You're exactly how a blessing is

I don't know what
This bond is called
Maybe there isn't a name to it
To me this is a bond beyond blessings.

The bond which gives me
The freedom to be
Be what I'm
Without thinking at all.

Your being there
Is what I need
Yes, NEED.
For you're essential indeed.

Wounds: My possession!

I haven't lost the ability to heal,
Though i feel the zeal to heal
Has mysteriously vanished
Somewhere I probably can't go
Or maybe a place where I fear to be
It's all weird and unreal
The smiles and the fears
All of it is unreal.

Were my healers not mine?
Or were my wounds divine?
Divinity is to be embraced
And hence, so be it
If my healers weren't mine
At least let my wounds
Be truly mine.
They may hurt
Or
May pretend not to hurt
At least they'll be mine
Till the end of my time.

Out of love - 42!

I didn't even realise that my possession wasn't mine anymore!
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The brutal un - undo able mistakes
Which almost tend to convert
Your unhealed bruises into
Scars, forever
Are important.
Yes! They are
So that you tend
To learn the importance
Of healers and healers of sorts.
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From daily dose of weird conversations to occasionally weird conversations and now to rare formal conversations, they had travelled a long distance away and apart from each other!
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Hiding from the light,
She ran out of sight
Till she realised
Darkness was the only source
Of peace and delight
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Death is a blessing, which will embrace you once you've sinned enough to survive.
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You realise how stupid you have been all your life only when you come to know that your CONSTANTS were also temporary!
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From distances to differences was a journey of misconceptions and misinterpretations.
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In the maze of words they pretended to find each other.
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They preferred incomplete sentences, for the full stop was their mutual fear.
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She re assured her that she was there and all her unhealed wounds and bruises vanished automatically.

Out of love - 41!

Allow me to collect my fragments before you broom my soul with failures.
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From talking for hours to now pretending to be busy for hours, they knew they had come a long way; on different roads.
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For a change, let's just feel the unfelt and see the unseen.
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If you can't be with me, atleast allow me to be alone so that I don't feel lonely anymore.
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That subtle glow of the moon was a companion like no other. Selfless and serene.
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Her faith was like the moon, constant and selfless.
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Confrontation: The mother of all fears.
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If you have faith in the term FAITH you'll probably know why some believe in magic more than science.
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Shared silences, exchanged words, their souls almost felt healed.
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From smoke to ashes, was a journey of cries to sighs.

Numb and confused!

It was there 

But it really wasn't 

You could see it

It could see itself too

But, that thing 

Which differentiates 

Between living and existence 

Was missing 

It was gone 

Gone for almost forever.

Future, 

Almost seemed 

Like a dreadful 

Misty morning 

The one in which 

You can 

Neither see things clearly

Nor breathe properly 

It all looks good 

From your window 

But your perceptions change 

Once you step out

Of your warm comfortable zone.

It knows it breaths 

Isn't sure about 

Being alive 

Though

They say it smiles 

And hence is 

Happy always 

But it 

Doesn't know what 

Being happy or sad is

It's almost numb now

Numb in the 

Most brutal form.

Probably at one 

Of those stages 

Where 

Pain rage and anger 

Refuse to accept it

It's confused 

It really is

Numb and confused 

Her faith, her strength!

She was on the verge of
Losing an unfought battle
But then
She knew she had a
Magical person who
Had faith in her.

The kind of faith
Which they never
Spoke or discussed about
But, it was there.
Like the moon
Which exists
Why? You don't know
How? You don't know, again
It's there
Because
It just is.

That faith
Is what holds
Her tight ALWAYS
That faith which
Doesn't let her
Collapse
That faith which
She looks at
Every now and then.

The magical person knows
What she means to her
Her signature, her healer
Her faith, her strength
Her existence, her happiness
She doesn't have to remind
That she has faith on her
She just knows that
Magical person is there
There always.

Magic may or may not
Be an illusion
But the magical person's
Faith is real
And this is the reality
Which she loves to accept
Every minute of her life.

This is a bond
A bond beyond blessing
Which is treasured
With every breath
Nurtured every minute
And
Accepted with an emotion
Beyond happiness.

Out of love - 40!

"Promise?"
What's that she asked
For her faith in the term was gone long ago.
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Between the round clock and the black and white existence something somewhere died everyday.
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Time doesn't heal anything all it does is makes wounds stale and stale things are usually not dwelled though the same can't be ignored.
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I don't trust the term ALWAYS now, for its the one which has shaken my faith in always. Always.
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I wish I had the art to love while standing firm and strong instead of falling in and for it.
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The breaths don't sound that bad, after all
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It's strange how old conversations never become stale.
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From talking for hours to now pretending to be busy for hours, they knew they had come a long way; on different roads.
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Shabby house, shoddy furniture, yet the most beautiful home in the world.
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The boundary of a priceless bond is the kind of beauty every soul craves for 

This night!

The night
The one
Which they
Love to curse
For being dark.
The one
After which
They crave for
A dawn
Like a greedy dog
Yes! That night
That night
Eases me
Helps me breathe
In peace
Re assuring my faith
In serenity and light
The light  which
The darkness beholds.
Do you still hate it?
Ah! You sure do
It's your habit now
I know I know
It's okay
This night will
Love to give you
The freedom to hate
For it believes in you
Very truly
Yes! You may or may not
Hate it
But the dark sky
The bright moon
And
The cute little stars
Will always love you

कुछ अलफ़ाज़, बस यूँ ही -09!

ना जाने ये कैसा अजीब असमंजस है......जहाँ ये समझ ही नहीं आ रहा की दर्द की वजह से दुःख है या दुःख की वजह से दर्द
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इबादत के लिए इजाज़त की ज़रुरत नहीं....
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गैरों की अमानत पे हमारा हक कहाँ
और
अपने तो अमानत ऐसी होते हैं
जिनकी इबादत हम रोज़ किया
करते हैं।
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वक़्त हमे समझने मे नहीं सम्भलने मे लग गया सारा।
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अब क्या समझाएं समझदारों को ..... किफायत के ज़माने मे पूरी सांसें और अधूरी धडकनों के सहारे कैसे जी रहे हैं।
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काश यारी से पहले खुदारी के बारे मे सोचा होता तो आज इतनी घुटन ना होती।
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वो अनकहे वादे जो तुम बिन बताये निभाते हो
अच्छा लगता है जब तुम हमारी मुस्कान सरहाते हो
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वो पूछ रहे थे हमसे की पुराने ज़ख़्म भर गए ..... अब क्या बताते हम उन्हें की धुल जमने से ज़ख्म भरते नहीं बिगड़ते है।
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हालत तो बदल गये ना जाने हालात कब बदलेंगे.
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अब ख्वायिशों को भी नाम दे देंगे तो बेनामी का परचम कौन संभालेगा...
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बदलाव!

बड़ी अजीब सी बात है
जो कल तक हमे सुनाते थे
हमारी नाकामियाबियों पे मुस्कुराते थे
आज वो
हमारी सुनते है
हमारे गुरूर से जलते हैं।

हम तो तब भी वो ही थे
अब भी वो ही हैं
बस वक़्त बदल गया
हालात सुधर गए
और उन्हें लगा
हमारे चाल ढाल बदल गए।

नाकामियाब हम तब भी ना थे
कामियाब हम अभी ना हैं
नजरिया तब अलग था अब अलग है
और वो कहते है हम अपने ग़म से
वफादार ना निकले। 

दर्द तब भी था
अब भी है
बस मरहम लगाने के
ढंग बदल गए। 

ना वो पुराने ज़ख़्म भरे
ना ये नए दर्द मिटे
बस अब यूँ कहिये

कि हम दिल से ना 

होठों से मुस्कुराना ज़रूर सीख गए।

Them, the healers!

We are healers
Healers of sorts
The ones who
Don't know
How they heal
Each other
But
Certainly
Know what they're
To and for each other.

We,
The loneliness
The pain
The scars
The unhealed wounds
The expression
The expression scared to be expressed
The emotions which
Wish to be UNacknowledged
The soul in pieces.
Yes! This we
In me,
Which I love
To hate
Everyday
Every night
Whether,
Under the moon
Or deprived of light.

Yes! They heal
Because I feel
Them more than
Anything
They stay with me
Through my
Smiles and tears
Numbness and dumbness
Like
A companion
Strong and firm
Promising me
A for forever
Reminding me
Of their existence
Only to  help
Me differentiate
Between
Lonely and alone.

These healers
Who heal
Without making
It look  like
A real big deal
Them. We. They
Which resides
In the loner
I
Is the reason behind
Less painful sighs.

Something is slipping!

Something is slipping
What? I don't know
How? I don't know
But, it is.
Very fiercely
And ruthlessly
Tearing me into
Infinite pieces.
The pieces
Which I won't
Be able to join
Reassembling self
Would just be impossible.

Shivering. Trembling. Panting.
Feeling almost shredded
Already.
Like losing
An unfought battle.
Feeling the pain
Of wounds that
Don't really exist
Or maybe fearing
That the wounds
To be
May become the scars
To be.

Hold me
Hold me tight
Very very tight
Till the time
I don't stop
Trembling and shivering.
Re assure me
That you will be
"Will be, ALWAYS"
To stop me
From slipping and sliding
At least
Just pretend
For sometime.
Please.

Moon: My constant!

The mighty moon which doesn't bless
Morons during the chaotic noon.

It's meant for nights to emit
Some serene light

Charming and glowing the one
Who helps me in flowing

Mighty and majestic
Humble and realistic

It GLOWS bright
But, never goes beyond sight

The moon. The love. And. The Infinity.

Out of love - 39!

In the end all we do is pretend to have healed.

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I'm neither an angel nor a best friend I'm just another constant you may rely on. Any day. Anytime. Any where

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I'm fire

Filled with love

Soaked in hatred

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At least pretend to hold me while I see myself getting transformed into ashes. 

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Scars may not hurt but they stay forever.

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Patches are disgraceful they said, little did they know that they were impressions of someone's sincere effort! 

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Dreams aren't wishes and hence they don't come true. They are just desperate plans and so they are achieved first and believed later.

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All we ever have is one single story which we amend edit and filter again and again only to fool ourselves that we have different versions/ types/ genres/ variations of emotions and problems everyday. 

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During that journey from friends to mere acquaintances a lot was learnt only to realise how important it is to unlearn certain things.

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A bleeding eye and a soul of ashes, yet they wondered why the graveyards were doddled all the time.

Friends to acquaintances!

Back then
We were friends
Close enough to
Share everything .

More like a strong
Adhesive which
Could probably
Withstand all sorts
Of thick and thin.

Now
We know we aren't
What we were
What we wanted to be

From acquaintances
To friends
It was a journey
Of learning and living

From friends
To acquaintances
It was an examination
Of unlearning and pretentious living

From for forever
To now almost never
A lot was felt
Only to curse the
Ability to feel.

Past, present and future
All were painful now
For the essence of
Love and magic
Was totally gone now.

कुछ अलफ़ाज़, बस यूँ ही -08!

कहानी का अंत तो फिर भी लिखा जा सकता है, पर दस्तायें तो बस यूँ ही ख़तम हो जाती हैं |

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मृत्यु का नहीं, डर तो उस ज़िन्दगी का है जो मृत्यु का रोज़ इंतज़ार कराये!
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उड़ान तो हौंसलों से और हौंसलों की होती है, पंख तो सिफ्र एक बहाना है।
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अगर उस ख्वाब के पीछे इतनी तारीखें ना गवाई होतीं........ तो आज शायद साँसें खो देते।
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कौन कमबख्त कहता है ज़िन्दगी का तमाशा बनता है, ज़िन्दगी तो अपने आप में ही एक बहुत खूब तमाशा है इसका आप क्या बना पायेगे
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हर बीते लम्हे की याद आती है, उस मुस्कुराते चेहरे को देखने के लिए आँखें रोज़ तड़प सी जाती हैं.
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अब तो जल कर राख भी हो गये, कम से कम उस राख को तो उड़ने दो।

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जितना मजबूर इस दिल ने उससे मोहोबत करने के लिए किया है उतना मजबूर तो आज तक इस ज़िन्दगी ने सांस लेने के लिए भी नहीं किया.
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डोर बाँधने के लिए नहीं उड़ान को सहारा डदेने के लिए होती है.
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ना जाने कौनसी गुस्ताखी हो गयी हमसे की इतने लोग होने के बावजूद भी हम उनकी मेहेज़ याद से तनहा महसूस करने लगे।

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