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ephemerally_me

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  • ephemerally_me 1d

    Particles of sand remain in your fist till the time you hold on to them with a gentle touch. The second you clench it, is the second they all slip from the minute gaps of your forceful fingers.

    So is the tragedy of love. The day you have to hold on to it a little harder, is the day you can feel it fade a little more.
    Love can never be compelled. It must flow naturally. Force can never make love stay. Neither in the doers heart, nor in the receiver's.

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    ~udisha
    ©ephemerally_me

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  • ephemerally_me 2d

    EVIL OF INDIAN SOCIETY- DOWRY SYSTEM

    White roses make a beautiful bouquet, that are often taken to funerals. A sapling growing looks equally chaste, unless the blast of the landmine beneath explodes. Similarly, dowry system in India equally appeals as a traditional custom, unless the pageant is stained with the blood of a bride's life.
    Dowry system is an evil that has been prevalent in Indian society since time immemorial. In earlier vedic times, it was considered as a sacred tradition where the bride's family gifted the groom as a token of respect and expectation that their daughter would live happily ever after. That was the time when society was made up of people with morality. An era, where daughters were equally respected. Where sons were not auctioned. Where dowry was accepted, not demanded.
    Society nowadays, however, is composed of a throng of amoral, and the only aim is to succumb and enjoy immorality. It is a time where coming back home in graves is considered better than being back with failed marriages. The orthodox mentality has made failed marriages and divorce in Indian society such a taboo that no matter how harsh and inhumane the situation may be, the illegal practice of giving and taking dowry, or to say, buying and selling daughters, putting price tags on priceless creations of God, always gets receded in the background.
    We talk of girl child education, women empowerment, stopping baby girl infanticides and like every time a question of women rights arises. We are also not unknown to the fact that the root cause of all the evils towards women is the intellect that renders women as burdens. But how often do we question ourselves so as to the reason these evils yet prevail. As well said by Mahatma Gandhi, "Any young man, who makes dowry a condition to marriage, discredits his education and his country and dishonours womanhood" It's the practices like Dowry System that stimulate such humiliating frame of minds.
    Family of the bride lives under a nightmare of the amount that would be demanded to have their daughter get married into a well to do family. We need to understand that if a marriage is to work, it would only work with a firm foundation of understanding and respect. Dowry degrades the value of daughters. As long as a girl is wise and good, she is a dowry in herself. Families need to understand that their daughter's happiness can never be synonymous to the materialistic items they have to offer. Bad days come, things get misunderstood, marriages fail, and it is completely normal to find a way out of them than to live with domestic abuses and die with emotional decisions.

    ~udisha

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  • ephemerally_me 1w

    Talk of 'symbolism', here's mine.
    #symbol #wod @writersnetwork @mirakee


    P.S.
    That's a poetry by Shiva Mangal Singh 'Suman'. Do read it guys. It's worth it.

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    //इस विशद विश्व प्रवाह में
    किसको नहीं बहना पड़ा
    सुख-दुख हमारी ही तरह
    किसको नहीं सहना पड़ा
    फिर व्यर्थ में क्यों कहता फिरूं
    मुझ पर विधाता वाम है
    चलना हमारा काम है//

    In other words, life's like a swiftly flowing river and we are the pebbles on its bed. Everyone had to creep and summersault with its lofty waves. So as to say, every person in this world had a time in their lives where one had to go through soaring ups and drowning downs, gentle nudges and aloof impels.
    Every person had to go through tough times and memorable events. Each had to experience pleasure and pain.
    Then why do I blame God for my sufferings? Why do I say that it's because God's upset and thus I'm going through tough times. Or that God is never with me. Sadness and happiness are two poles of a magnet. Just like a magnet can't have just one pole, life can't do with just one phase. It's just because we have gone through pain that we understand the importance of happiness, that we are able to savour every moment of that bliss. So if I am having tough times, it is to prepare me for the better good.
    There is nothing as such destiny or future though we sometimes tend to believe in these hypothetical words. The only thing that there is- is our actions. Our actions decide what we are, and what we will be. What we feel, and what exactly will the next emotion that will overwhelm our hearts. The one who understands the true meaning of moving on is the one who has conquered over anxiety and depression.
    A successful person is him who continues to walk, no matter what situation, no matter what obstacles. Continues to keep going no matter in a crowd, or all alone. Life is incomplete, always. To gain one is to lose another. But we must let go. Life must go on.
    ~udisha
    ©ephemerally_me

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  • ephemerally_me 1w

    Felt this��

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    Staring at the ceiling in the dark
    Same old empty feeling in your heart
    'Cause love comes slow, and it goes so fast

    Well, you see her when you fall asleep
    But never to touch and never to keep
    'Cause you loved her too much, and you dived too deep

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  • ephemerally_me 1w

    #temp

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    22nd Feb, 2021
    19:50

    Dear diary,

    It feels like if there really was a purgatory, it must be here, with you. I let myself fall on you like autumn leaves today, crumble me if you think what I've to say now is wrong or let me rot in the sun, for I fear no more of any pain now. I write to you today, expressing all my highs followed by lows, all my happiest that became deadliest. Judge me if you may, and let me know where I belong. There must be a way out of this place.
    It hurts, but I'd be the first to admit that I'd never been an ideal daughter, nor am I today. I'd be the first to take back the past 8-10 years of my life, or better, I'd be the first to give up on my identity and attain a new one. In school, I'd be the first one to be ready to trade this face with whoever desires to have my unpopular countenance. And I'd be the first one to admit that after death, if there is any place that I belong to, if there is any thing such as after life, I belong to nowhere but with the damned, condemned sinners.
    But why do I lament over something that I knowingly or unknowingly did, believing it wasn't wrong? Why do you believe my actions are bad just because they tell me so? Don't we live in a country where freedom to thought and expression is a fundamental right? Why exactly do I condemn myself for something that is practiced by every soul and yet cherished over comfy beds, while I do a little of that and just because I admitted I did it, I get to lie awake over wet pillows. What kind of judgement is this?
    Ah! I might sound exactly a cynical. And in soothe, I'm going mad day by day. I feel this anguish that is just compiling up and I'm really afraid of the day I would let it out. There would be no harm done to my near surroundings of course. I'm afraid for myself.
    Where do I get this vinegar temper from? What are these vices made of? Why exactly like a masochistic fool I let them take over me? Is it the way I was born? Or is it something that I gained over time? Living in dark without having any inclining why exactly so is so infuriating. It's as if I made a leap into the ocean to summersault on its waves. But rather, my blemishes weigh me down. I'd rather give away the centre of gravity of my being than get laid because of it in my grave.
    Being suicidal is never an option, nor is running away, though it appeals to me sometimes. It may be an orthodox mentality thanks to the taboo that words like depression and anxiety are, I flinch at the thought of being anxious. And thus, I always try a way out of this vast ocean of my maleficence.
    Hell! I have reasons to be merry, yet I'm sad. Have ideas to rejoice, but I anticipate no fun out of it. I am ready to change myself, but the process bears no promises.
    So I just sit here, contemplating my options with you, asking you to decide the weight of the pots that brew my vices and virtues. I laugh in days and cry at nights. Sing to the sun and shed tears to the moon. I'm frantically dancing to the tik-tok of the grandfather's clock, and sworing the pain every second. I know there's just nothing that can be done about it. Yet, I keep going.

    yours,
    udisha.
    ©ephemerally_me

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  • ephemerally_me 1w

    Inspired by the famous speech by chief Seattle.

    #epigram

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    In soothe, the one who was born, never dies.
    Die, did I say?
    There's no death, just change of worlds...
    ©ephemerally_me

    23 14 Link
  • ephemerally_me 1w

    Ps..this is just one memory where writing helped me express better. I have two other such events to write about. Hope I'd do so, soon...

    #diaryentry
    @writersnetwork @mirakee

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    21st February, 2021
    12:45

    Dear diary,
    It's too sunny out here and it seems my skin is burning in the aggressive sun beams. But I feel pleasured by this pain. Masochist. Having nothing to do, or better, wanting nothing to do, I just let my mind travel back in time. Back to the good old days, when I knew nothing about writing yet had found a way of expressing myself better in letters than in words.
    The very first memory that struck me was of that taxing night. I must have been around 10 years old (or less). Dad had left army and had come back to us. Family(especially grandpa) hated him for leaving such a promising job. I never knew why we left our place, grandpa's place back then. But now I see it. Now I understand why di 6, years older than me, had such immense hatred for him. Why mum no more had that longing or pride in her voice every time we had a trifle over my father's choices. Grandpa held my mum responsible for dad leaving such a promising job. How could he not see the family stress that mum was going through back then?
    That's just another story. I was telling you about one such night. So dad was looking for a job. Though he never let his false facade down, we could see the internal conflict that he was going through. Even the little me understood the situation well enough. That was maybe the first time (first that I remember clearly) I had written, to dad.
    I don't remember the exact words, but the letter said went something like he shouldn't be worried about earning. God's with us and he'd surely get what he's seeking.
    I sneaked into his room and was putting that letter under his pillow when mum had caught me. She forcefully made me read that letter to her. I still remember the immense flow of emotions that escaped through her eyes. She had held me tight in her arms and had whispered that nothing would ever be wrong for they have such daughters like us.
    I just don't know why this memory has a deep root in my heart. It's just because those words of mum had been very heart-warming at that age to me. I don't remember whether dad found that message of mine, or how he reacted to it. All that I remember is the pride that I had seen in mum's eyes. I wish I could see that again. I yearn for every moment of that memory. I still think of all the things that I would say to her today if she hugged me the same way. I still wonder if even a word would escape from my heart.
    Those years surely were terrible for my family as a whole, but that single memory of a loving mother embracing her 10 year old with warmth, delight and pride remains with we as the good old day. I hate to know that such scene would never ever be created again. I wish I could undo my past deeds. I wish I could do such thing that fills my mother's heart with pride for her daughter's yet again...

    Maybe someday, in another life, I'd make her feel proud of me. Till then, I want to embrace that memory in my heart forever long...

    With love
    ~udisha
    ©ephemerally_me

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  • ephemerally_me 2w

    If we had a common lord
    He must be a discriminate
    For he guided you
    like a father does a son
    But left me on the verge of life
    As I trow like an orphan
    ~udisha

    10 15 Link
  • ephemerally_me 2w

    Last War

    Dell, you know some destructions are like forest fires, they paralyse you slowly and seem unending while others are like storms, they break you in one go and pass away in seconds. But all destructions are painful, and all tempests are perilous.
    You never see someone slipping through the gaps of your fingers unless you have lost them completely, or so is the case with me. Over the time I saw every single reason that a teenager looks at for happiness drifting away one by one in such a terrifying way that even the image of an hourglass, with its sand particles moving from one chamber to other makes me want to scream at it and tell it to hold on to it before it's too late.
    My losses have been not just in terms of materialistic pleasures, but all the emotional support, mental wellness, inner peace that once made an integral part of my jocund self got lost as if in seconds, as if they were nothing but pebbles of the sea bed washed away and lost forever with a low tide. It makes me want to look for those pebbles but only to realise that I have lost them. The worst thing that chews at my inner jaws is the fact that I let it all happen in front of my eyes.
    I lost love, and family, and friends, typically the baser bricks that once erected the blissful extrovert me. Family support was lost the day I gained love. Friends got parted when I tried to hold onto that love. Now, even love has been a part of my woeful past, because in conquest of getting everything back I thought sacrificing love would do. But you see, I was wrong, over and over and over again, everytime. I thought if I'd prove that I can be the typical girl that they wanted me too be, I'd gain back the belief, the love, the support that was lost in conquering love. But you see, I was wrong yet again. My losses in terms of support and character in their eyes have been so immense that nothing can change the way things are now.
    Dell, just remember, you'd never get to tell your story to anyone. "Your life is a story told about you, not the one that you tell." No one would ever believe your version of your life. Everyone here is in the illusion that you want to put your best foot forward. Even if you'd want to show them your losses, they'd blame you for it. Your melancholy would be treated fake. Your pain would be compared to theirs. And in the end, you'd be regarded if not as a maniac, then a scene creator who wants to gain attention.
    Dell, one day, you'd lose things. The storm would destroy you. The overcast would keep coming for you. But you will have to remember, that there is still hope. You will have to remind yourself that life is worth the pain. You will have to know that you had already anticipated loneliness, for Dell, in the end, when the all the battles will be fought, few won, few lost, there will be a final war, that will determine your eligibility to live, you'd be at war with your own self, and you will have to remind yourself, YOU ARE NOT YOUR OWN FIEND.
    The last war of your life will be won when you'd shake hands with your own enemies. When you'd brace all your fears. When you'll know, that you knew, this was inevitable.
    That war would be your last, because no other war would be as fierce, no other storm as hazardous, no other pain as painful. The war would have to be your last, this war has to be my last(or so I want to believe).
    ~udisha
    ©ephemerally_me

    16 16 Link
  • ephemerally_me 2w

    #mondo
    @writersnetwork
    Tombstone*
    Ab main phir se edit nhi karungi
    ⊙﹏⊙

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    .

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