550 posts
  • autumnbreeze 1w

    The bed twitched, making me wonder if it was habitual or a new thing it had started to bother me. Letting me aware about how life had fostered me with many entities of misery. It was daylight enough to make me remind of unwashed clothes and suffering. The first thought which awakened my senses was the bunch of Mogra remaining in the fridge. A tweak of burden shivered my spine. I felt the ache, unaware whether it was the back ache or the pilled torture evolving inside. I took the support of a pillow, for stretching my back. The pillow felt wet and soggy, as if it had drenched every sob I let out for you. The windows were wide open, assuring the rays of some life amidst all the shackles. The faded blue curtains sway in the air, as to flash conscience within numbed baring. The stained colour reminded of the year he had bought it, saying how the pastel effect made him feel like home, safe, near me. On hearing my own thoughts, l mourned for a gasp of wail. The reality of loneliness brought anguish stiches within my body. I shut the windows, letting out a loud noise. I quickly sat on the bed. The small action released a tension in my fragile muscles. My eyes fall upon the curtains, how uncannily it captivated my attention. The faded colour shade a bright presence within the deemed room. As if it echoed in my direction, beguilingly saying, "I am only thing in this room that has some life left inside." I cringed at the mere sight of the curtains. Flames of hatred flush within me, indicating how destiny had betrayed me. A sea of emotions roused in my body, anger, pain, despair, greed, leaving room for a fight about which one being the dominant and the recessive. A pile of his clothes stayed still on the far end of the bed. It's smell disseminated within the room, urging me to think about the loss in my life. Even in dim light, the compact of kajal glinted through thick darkness. Looking at it, made me shrink, as if the life in me was gravitated by that small object, how it hold every facets of me and the life l had drowned in. It made me whine and l mourned, the salty water shedding from my eyes. I cupped my hand on lips to not loose the grip of sustaining. With the help of the end of my pallu, I cleansed my eyes and face. The sari was crumbled all over the place, perceiving like I had bathed in my own sweat. There was no valid reason on my part to change a sari which was untouched from Tuesday's ritual.

    There was a astonishing sound coming from the phone. The ringing was too gaudy to catch my attention into reality. I grabbed the phone, my palm was pale, the veins overshadowed glimpses of aliveness left in me. The white skin reserved place for the hostile blood to do it's job. The dial on the phone read 'Mumma', wandering why was the purpose of her calling. All reasons of her calling, hinge me about vindication. My mind scattered reasons of her call, a trespasser searching for a mile to rest. Was she calling to tell me what this marriage had done to me? Was she calling to accuse me of where love had land me? The ringing wried my attention and press the answer button absently. A wobbling sound came from the other end of the phone. "Hello...Meera?", the voice resorted my conscience. With tears absorbed on dry cheeks, a cry left from my mouth. In a croon whisper I said, " Hello...Mu..mma! " My mind tried very hard to shun the thought of her calling me by my first name, but I couldn't. "Oh dear Meera! I know I shouldn't be calling you now…But, I was wondering...if you would like to take the pictures...of y'all? They never belonged here." Her words left my brain in a hurricane. I felt like my tongue was stunned by the sorrows and I wondered if l was butting my own mouth to feel a muscle. My shivering hand tried to sense the outlines of my face. The fingertips touched my lips, only to feel a terrain laying in desert, dry and devastating. My being couldn't hold this aghast any longer. With bewailing cries, l spoken to her, "Mumma...He's...gone. He's...not coming...back. My Amit...has died." My grief echoed the whole room. I continued to talk, "There's no life left in me. I haven't changed the sari since last Tuesday. His clothes...are consuming...my being. Amit...Mumma...my Amit is not here...anymore." The scream resist the urge to stop, to hold some life. I let out everything remaining in me, "Mumma...the curtains hold the light of the room. He was right, Mumma. A year ago, he had bought the curtains from Lucknow. I had asked him about the dull colour. He had said that the pastel colour reminds him of home, of assurance, it makes him feel nearer to me. Mumma...my home...is no more in existence. I..can't...keep on...sustaining." My mouth was dry as a fish. But no measure of life could save it. I kept swallowing spits of yearn and bemoans of lost love. I grappled the phone tighter this time, as if each word I said depend on being heard, as if it's hearing was the only state of living left in this neglectful world. With a brief amount of stamina, I said, "You know...Mumma...the bunch of Mogra is left in the fridge. The ones he had bought...before the day...of accident. He had bought two such bunch. And l still remember, l had asked him for bring two of them. He had said while placing the Mogra on my braided hair, that he was...ready to be...a father. Mumma...we were going to parents. He was...going to be a father. There lies a brown file on the desk telling me everything is over. And now...I don't know what to do. Mumma...I don't know what...to do. I just don't know." The eyes were blurring my vision. They were sweltered from the heated tears. I felt like l was gulping my own cry. My head was heavy as a paper weight, as my heart felt strokes of relief. I placed my hand on stomach, to feel any sense or movement of the embryo. I heard my mother's voice flowing through my ears, my mind was too bizarre to reciprocate her talking. I tried to regain my conscience, she was saying, "Meera, I know you want to hear a lot of things from me. But, l will on say just one thing. The words l spoke to you before you ran away from the house. I will say them again today. Listen carefully, 'For gaining love, you need to take risk. For achieving a sight of life, you need to live through barren. For feeling a sense of heat, you need to survive the cold. For holding resilience, you need to defeat the terror within you.' Meera, my loving daughter, these are the difficult times. But, l promise something mesmerizing will soon blossom out of it. You still have me, never forget that." A thunder of safety brushed throughout my body. A sign of grace and retaining emerged on my face.

    The pain was still lingering within me. The thought of my child buried me in the pit of loneliness. I called out the grieving to my mother, "But Mumma, what about my child? It would never be able to see Amit’s smile, never be able to feel his smile on its cheeks. It would never know how he smells in Summer. Or the only time he recites a song is when he's happy. It would never know what his hands feel like in the Winter. It would never receive his warmth, his anger, his laughs, his love. It would never know what it's like to have a father like him. What about that, Mumma?" The thumping of my heart raced a bit slower than my thoughts. I traced a finger on my head to check the temperature. The skin on my head felt like a mixture of moist and wetness. I waited for mother to say something, I wanted to hear from her more than my own self. "Oh Meera, my brave girl, how could you forget about this. Amit is with you, everywhere. All you need to do is look. His presence is restrained within those Mogras. In the very fabric of those clothes. In the faded colour of those curtains. He might have left the world, the universe, but he won't leave you. His being, his soul resides in you, my Meera. So, how could you say, the child would never feel his presence. How could you forget, the child has a part of him in itself. All you have to do look and cherish it." The words greased a wave of faith in me. I was crying and smiling, unaware of what to respond to her words. They left a room for hope and mirth to follow it's way back here. With a bewildered look, I asked her, "Mumma, how do you cleverly know what to say? How did the words made me feel so calm? How do you do this?" There was a sound of sign coming from the other side. "Meera, just like the child of yours, you are a part of me. You resemble a small personality alike me. Just like you, l too had lost the love of my life, your father. And look were you and l are." I smiled at the mere innocence of my mother and my face gleamed of comfort. Acknowledging the fact that there was a squint of teary eyes on both sides of phones, we said our goodbyes. I stood up to open the windows. A breeze swift through my face, dropping the report file on floor. While l endured the passing wind as if it told me 'I'm here. I've got you.'

    P. S.:- It's a bit long and stretched out piece. But, I have tried to step out of my comfort zone and put my hands upon something which is a similar texture of Indian literary. It can be assumed as a piece for Mother's Day. Please do leave comments on what you appreciated and what you didn't. I hope y'all like this snippet!

    #snippet, #writing, #mothersday, #mother, #daughter, #grieving, #despair, #loss, #lostlove, #remedy, #healing, #healingbywords, #solace, #mirakeecommunity, #mirakee, #writersnetwork, #pod

    @mirakee @writersnetwork @senden_k @soulfulstirrings @_kabir

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    For gaining love, you need to take risk. For achieving a sight of life, you need to live through barren. For feeling a sense of heat, you need to survive the cold. For holding resilience, you need to defeat the terror within you.

  • autumnbreeze 3w

    As the moon shares the sky, I kneel upon the ochre sand. The waves are whispering a tune of remorse, knowing that there's no one to dwell on till miles and miles. I try to understand a rhythm of rigidity, somewhere between shallow restless water currents and sour water drops shedding from my eyes. The crescent moon grapple passing light, while remembering how l would keep researching on the understanding nature held for the upturns of a moonchild. On hearing my high sighs, the waves roar, the way l did when the home that sheltered me fail to reciprocal my high aspirations of escaping. Escape, such a mundane word to the world. I repeat the word a few times, slowly, mournful, casting a rhythm to sync with the waves. The stars above today look too dull for the magnificent night sky. I straddle upon the shore, with sand grains attached to my skin, while the water cleansing it softly. The pitch black sky and the hinged union of water and sand, reminded of the year l refused moral duties and heard the squeaking voice of this ragging heart. The year l witnessed what despair meant in the real world. The same year, I fudged upon the questions raised at my for my great perhaps. The same year, l dicovered a source of redemption in writing. The year, l dared to faithlessly love a storm that crushed the grounds l stood upon. The year, l trembled unkowningly, the arcane meaning of escape drowned me to forget about the real world l breathe in. A whistling breeze captured my conscience and I traced the stillness of beach, untouched, untold, unseen by the hawk of stoic citylights. The tighten bottle twitched in my hand, a rustling sound announced that it was a right time to perform the act. Along with stars the moon was getting bit dull, l glimpse at its shine and felt a shiver through my spine. My eyes searched long for a closure, something I always looked for. The waves were getting calm and surrender for the darkened night. I place the bottle near the shore, the sand grain encaved the glass surface. The halo of shimmering moon fell upon the bottle, not knowing whether it cast a heavy pressence on the thin paper sheet within the bottle or was it me stepping onwards for tendered fading. I began taking small steps, each step forming a souvenir for disattachment, pain, abuse and removal. As l kept walking, the water rose till my knees, calling me to a home where my aspirations aren't label. I could see the peculiar horizon, a purpleish twilight of union, a dark barrier where the light gets lost. My heart felt so free yet fazed, unnoticed of the frozen tears on my cheeks. The blurred hostile eyes could see a obscure resource for closure, the horizon like a brisk crystal glass that could spark hues of aliveness. With the flowing water, l couldn't feel my feet, yet the water helped me move towards my closure. The water understood my motion and with my last very breathe, I crawled in the blue liquid of regime, with no second thoughts, with no one to withhold, with no version of delicacy, with no brief amount of conscience and with no remorse for the act of withering. Alike the water, l too once roared at the same land within the silence of dark.

    #abstract #lonliness #depression #snippet #writing #healingbywriting #healing #alone #solace #remedy #redemption #escape #mirakeecommunity #mirakee #writersnetwork

    @mirakee @writersnetwork @soulfulstirrings @senden_k @_kabir

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    Escape, such a mundane word to the world.

    I repeat the word a few times, slowly, mournful, casting a rhythm to sync with the waves.

  • mahtobpensdown 6w


    Is silence really shunning
    the noise in depth?
    It's voice is more defeaning
    than you can actually hear !

  • akhilwrites 9w


    Alarm of 4 a.m. to make you think
    what is happening in life.

  • chaand_ 10w

    "Maybe we'll meet again, when we are
    slightly older and our minds less
    hectic, and l'll be right for you and
    you'll be right for me. But right now, 1
    am chaos to your thoughts and you
    are poison to my heart."


  • vavisha 11w

    Two rushing heartbeats began to sound like a song,
    As they hugged to make a perfect kiss !


  • capricious_heart 11w


    Drifts away in the sail of time
    The unprecedented unknown someone
    He sails away like the forgotten fragment
    Of something that he holds onto
    Never wanting to let go

  • blossommist 12w

    No I wasn't expecting a reply. However, I got one”Thank you, Ang”.Interesting,he remembers. I replied, "So where's my treat, I love chocolates" The moment I sent this I felt totally silly. It was our first talk,To my surprise I received a reply So do I, K.

  • pranalishah 12w

    - Journal -

    Filled with pages
    A space to hide,
    In a place to confide.
    As for me it was reliving the past
    Through the snippets of yesterday
    For I was far from living today...


  • verma_kamal 14w

    Excitement of seeing you is a different kind of high in itself..
    #snippet #mornings
    #love #intuition

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    I knew you were going to stay when the only thing I ever wanted to do in the morning was to get up and see you.

    ~ Kamal Verma

  • pastquest 17w

    I like "people shoes" more than people's face.


  • gokul_29_03 20w

    Love (snippet 1)

    "Never ever get into a relationship with the 'Emotions' if you are not in a relationship with that person"


  • truth_sparkler 22w

    #snippet of Christmas. #Humans denied him on that day #Animals knew about the saviour, and accepted him #What about us?? #Give Jesus place in your heart. #he needs you and loves you.

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    When Jesus was born,
    None gave him room to stay,
    Neither any homes, nor any inn's.

    But the animals in the manger,
    Though it doesn't have sense like humans,
    Has given place to lay Jesus,
    And they moved out, for him to rest calmly.


  • pastquest 22w


    In the midnight,
    I'll unfold myself the best...


  • pastquest 22w

    Glow with your own flow;


  • anemone13 24w


    Together we could be the colours yet to be discovered


  • anemone13 25w


    Your eyes spoke words
    A language so intriguing
    I can never have enough of it
    My thirst for you never quenching.

  • t_r_a_v_e_l_l_e_r 28w

    Snippets #2

    Emotions don't need any voices to be happened and doesn't need to answer any number of questions.


  • t_r_a_v_e_l_l_e_r 28w


    It was easier when it was just interaction,
    It starts tangling when it becomes a daily conversation,
    It starts twinning when you realize how fascinating the person is
    It becomes complicated, when you can't figure it out.


  • t_r_a_v_e_l_l_e_r 30w

    Snippet #1

    I first thought about it,
    Then I started to regret it,
    But then I remembered it,
    Then after, I realized it,
    And then I let go for it.