Everyday, I fall from the cliff of faith To wake up in her soothing arms, A Zephyr in a suffocating corner, For her, love has no saturation, Silhouette of purity, in a world of hypocrisy Widens dimensions of this claustrophobic soul,
The only one who never gives up on a weirdo like me, Bears me, everyday, with my parabolic mood swings Yet, her dulcet rhythm, can calm the tsunamis of my mind! Integrating my differentiated life, Capricious like politics! Can scold like a raging forest fire, then pamper, escalating the laziness of this sloth! Grief absorbent, everytime I'm low Stay healthy, for eternity, so I can make you go bonkers over my sophomoric demeanor
Can sound cliche, but that won't stop me! Champak chacha to my Jethalal, Hermoine to my Harry, Patrick Star to my Spongebob, Bagheera to my Mowgli (giggles) Monica to my Joey (Feeds this voracious brat daily)
Happy Mother's day Mum! (Though we'll fight over my clumsy mess, forever)
Aaj maa ka din hai maa ke bagir bi khoi din hota hai kya Maa ka din manare hai par maa ki kader bi karte hun Jis ne janam diya jis ne tume takeelf tu chodo tum kanta thk chubne nahi diya aj us maa ke liya hum kya karre hai maa samajre nahi maa ki izath karre nahi Hum tu aise hai maa ko old age home dal dere hai kun apne maa sanbali nahi jari ek maa 10 ya 15 bacho ko sanmbli par 15 bache milker bi ek maa ko na sanmbal sake dhitkaar hai apne paide hone par dhitkaar hai maa ka din mana ne ke liye Maa kya hoti un se pocho jinko maa nahi hai Maa ke liye tadap the hai aur hum maa ka din manare hai aisa karne se peliye aazo baazo deko humare maa ka din manane se ager use maa nah hu tu takleef nah hun Meri khoi baat buri lagi tu ap sub maaf karna kun ke hum tu maa ka din manathe hai par jinki maa nahi hai vo kya kare #mirakee#writersnetwork
A face that has countless scattered lines of anxiety,
scattered --- as if they were playfully drawn by a kid.
Those almond shaped eyes are an ocean. An ocean
that has learnt to gulp everything in one go. Yes, sadness has a face.
A face that hides in plain sight.
It's the face :
of that old woman you met on the metro station
--- the lady who carried loose folds of skin and
bulging eyes like they were heavy bags, tiresome
to carry. But she somehow managed to zip them
to keep the contents safe (and hidden)
of that teenager who walks with drooped
shoulders --- the one who reminded you of wilted
hyacinths. His heart is a desert where dreams
once bloomed. Now, he carries the remnants of his broken dreams
and insomnia on his fragile shoulders.
of that lean man, who is a warrior in disguise. The
one whose wrinkled fingers are swords that murder
sorrows, his eyes are flame throwers and his
silence --- his ultimate weapon. All for the sake of his family.
Yes, sadness has a face. A face that has been taught to camouflage. A face that hides in plain sight.
it has parts,
of you and
all of us.