Experiences

Besides the bay, below the stars Existence looks minimal. The enormous meet and silence speaks. As we trudge in the sparkling black territory, Love,fear and an awareness erupt; Love of life, fear of unknown And an awareness of how insignificant we are. The venomous waves, the melancholy song...maybe a soul lost and forlorn... Looking beyond the mundane, Looking towards the infinite. A day that was unbearable suddenly lost its power. And my happiness erupted out of my awareness of insignificance...

Illusion or Resolution? Lost in the desires of heart, When we leap waves of time, Little do we realise how frail are dreams... Upon the petals of your happiness, They grow and nurture. Its gradual and its personal. 'Time is a construct... Time is artifical...' they say. But it is this invisible weapon, Which withers away your dreams. Leaves you empty, Within and without. You smile but you learned to contemplate, You learned to manipulate. Finally you evolved. With the ways of the world. Pain which cannot be seen One for which words are incomprehensible. It leaves you hollow yet so full. Full of visions of awareness, Full of empathy. But sans dreams and passions... Little fellow. Learn to find solitude. For its 'you' And its your journey... How illusionary or illuminating... Its your own. Just let it be. @ Kanika Kachroo

Venomous Dreams A heap of sand, Upon which we build our dreams, The enchanting magic, Of desires sweet. Of expectations humongous, Time condenses and beholds them. Upon our heart and in our mind it ages moment by moment. The mortal mesmerizes in its webs, But once caught the poison leaves you... Unquenched. Paralyzed. Impenetrable. The numbness of the mind doesnt leave, The venom kills its self image day by day, And all that is left is 'you' The serenity of your emptiness. The stillness of your being. The understanding of this world, Its limitations and limitlessness. And the world within.... The mysticism calls... But the cries are feeble. Get overt the animalistic side, Get over the guilt, After all 'existence' survives. @Kanika

Experiences: The Window: A SHORT STORY : The Window She scrubbed frantically. Her life was an annoyance, she thought. The urge to clean was turning into a habit and this was...

The Window She scrubbed frantically. Her life was an annoyance, she thought. The urge to clean was turning into a habit and this was not letting her go. Her soul was caged. The defeat inside was an entity itself which dominated her reflections outside. She fought, incessantly talked, cried her heart out, shouted within the walls and her eyes couldn’t hide the depth of her sorrow. Her face revealed the scars of an invisible battle. Cleaning her surroundings was a therapy or maybe, it was an illusion for the mind to stay calm. But the demonic creature that mind is, never let her evils go. Sneha was done with her morning household chores. It was still a few hours before her daughter was back from school. She dreaded this moment. This was the time when she had nothing to keep her mind at bay; the solitude that she endeared at one time was obnoxiously dreadful at this present moment. With a heavy heart she settled at her usual place, the corner sofa seat and dazed out of t

Grown out of the desires; Howcome? Grown out of the dreams; Maybe... Grown out of craziness; Honestly. Sifting through the memes, Trying to have that momentary smile. Exploring all the spirituality, that the digital baba throws. One moment of catastrophe. One expression of stillness. One expectation which remains Unquenched... At last its the journey , And its your own... Its what will bring the deconstruction ... It will bring you.

The ways of the world stand unchanged, Shallow waters and deep valleys, Muddy puddles and dark skies, Leaning upon acceptance, Stands an uninhibited soul... Waiting to be diluted, To be ravaged and dealt with. She contemplates, ponders, philosophizes, Imitates and adorns unreal. The happiness is lost... The real is forlorn and secluded. Paradox is she, and she is a paradox, Emotions, Connections and intimacy Strongly built brick by brick. But Serenity lost between the mortar. Sad is a quotient. It is not her identity. She cries and wails with a smile, Amber turns her eyes sparkle... To the world she is a beauty. A name recognizable. A person definable. But deep underneath... Stands the little one undefined and illusionary...