Dirty Winged Angel

Behind brown eyes.
There's something deep within.
Such a strange little girl.
Consumed by lust and sin.
She's a fallen angel.
With dirty-tainted wings.
Her scratchy voice cracks painfully.
And you wonder why she sings.
She sings for all hope lost inside.
She sings because she cannot hide.
For evil never wears a mask.
And she can't cover up her past.
Dirty angel sing to me.
Heal my wounds.
Set us free.
We are chased down by our faith.
In metaphors and a world so fake.
Tattered books lay over-looked.
By such unholy eyes.
Look upon me, my evil angel.
And save me from this life.

This is just about a friend of mine who has brown eyes. I call her my dirty-winged angel because she looks so beautifully innocent, but she has secrets that make her not so innocent. Hence, the dirty wings.

Death

it’s a quiet thing,
death is.
because no matter how loud you scream
how hard you cry
or if you slip away on your own
everyone around you grasping at your life
that falls like sand through their fingers
time moves on.
and i still can’t quite understand
how you can go from being everything
made up of stardust
and the remains of galaxies
to being nothing at all
and still life
moves on.

Death #2

Scariest thing is you don't know when its arriving,
Kills you more when you are thriving.

You are left scrounging for breath,
A tragedy like that of Macbeth.

You have few seconds left,
Bereft of loved ones.

Memories roll down the lane,
Except Mother Earth everyone looks at you in disdain.

Now you ain't called by your name,
You have lost your fame

Because in a shapeless flame, 

 death overcame.

~ Just another old poem ~

Bound

i asked my father if i could swim,
and he said that i would drown.
The Sea would imprison me – he said
if my feet ever left the ground.

So i walked out of the water,
and cried out – how ’bout now!
He said, a little bit further my child,
and then you’ll leave the ground.

i stepped on sand then stone,
from hollow ground to sturdy.
The sky was at my level as I
gazed at that one little birdie.

The Sea brought me a new idea,
the urge to flee to the high.

i asked my Father if i could fly,
and he said, sure – go try.

i jumped as high as i could.
Still, i landed on the ground.
i saw my Father pull on a chain,
And then I knew that i was bound

In life

In life we can not choose our beginning,
nor can we choose our end.
Our purpose is to make sure everything in between
is absolutely beautiful.
Something we are proud to say "that was my life
and I lived every single moment of it."

The Arctic Wind

He tells warm lies through lips as cold as frost,
while his eyes cast frigid glares.
His backhanded barbs, sharp as steel,
strike like ice crystals in your heart.
Infidelity coats upon him like a sheen of ice.
Beauty and slippery deceit, rolled into one.
And yet, you stand, as a woman made of snow,
not truly seeing, not speaking out.
You slowly die, waiting for him to thaw.
A snowball in the hands of Hades stands a better chance,
than you, to win his heart.
For within his veins runs soiled slush
and his soul is an Arctic wind.

Don't Ever Say Goodbye

It was a hot winter morning. Sana stood on the balcony, sipping her cup of tea. She’d been getting nightmares lately, dreams she could not even begin to understand. It was the same vision night after night.

“I’m telling you, I’m fine, baby.” Ishaan purred in her ear, handling the steering wheel a little too fast.
 
She was scared. “Just concentrate on the road, Ish. I’m late. And you’re drunk.” She said anxiously.

“Which doesn’t help.”

He almost laughed. “You’re fine. As long as we’re together, nothing’s going to happen.”

Her heart skipped a beat. What could you say to that?

“I love you.” She simply said.

He stared at her for what seemed like forever. He shifted his eyes from the road and simply looked at her, drinking her in. “I love you.”

There was a loud sound every time and then complete darkness. She’d wake up every night with sweat on her face.
 
It had been more than a year since Ishaan had left her life. From everything to nothing. No calls, no texts, nothing. He just disappeared. And the worst part was, they had it all. They were amazing together. What he did to her, no one else could. And once he left, he left a hole in her heart. She tried dating again, but somehow nothing ever worked out. Nobody was ever good enough. She just wanted him. But she didn’t know where he was. He left without saying goodbye. That’s what hurt the most. More than all the questions in her mind. She kept wondering, ‘Was I that easy to give up?’

Ishaan and Sana had a complicated story of their own. He was the popular jock, she was the debating girl.

And yet they saw in each other, what no one else ever did. He saw her as someone who wasn’t afraid of taking risks, someone who didn’t simply want to accept things as they were, and someone who wanted to leave a little bit of herself in the world. She saw him as someone who was misunderstood, someone with issues, someone damaged who could be saved. And for that, they loved each other.

She would always be hard on herself. She’d always think that she was unworthy of happiness. While all her friends were in relationships, she had accepted the fact that she wasn’t meant for love. But then Ishaan came into her life.

 It wasn’t love at first sight. Actually, it was anything but that. She was asked to write an article on the football match for the team he was captaining. She didn’t like him at first glance. I mean sure, he was good looking, but a guy’s got to be more than that, right? He was cocky, rude and a little too full of himself. It was only later that she realised that that was just pretence.

 He wasn’t cocky; he was just proud. He wasn’t rude; he just wasn’t much of a talker, and he wasn’t too full of himself; he was just awkward during conversations. They never wanted to display their love in public. They thought that would cheapen their love. In fact, love wasn’t the right word. It was too little, too casual and too insufficient to capture what they shared. What they had was way more than that. They discovered so much about each other that sometimes they’d just forget about everything else. When they were together, everything else ceased to matter. She was his. He was hers. And deep inside, they both knew they’d last forever.

It was last New Year’s when it had happened. She had a deadline to reach home and she was already late. She was pulling Ishaan to take her home, but he was already drunk.

He had not shifted his gaze from the road for one minute, when a truck hit their car and changed their lives forever.

Yes. Her worst nightmare occurred one and a half years back, and yet Sana lives the same day on repeat, again and again.

A Thief

‘I write’, I proclaim, arrogantly,
And proudly, because I create
And I mold words of my own
But under the arrogance and
The pride, and the facades
Lies a simple fear, one so small
That it should be buried under
The words I can spill out into
Patterns that please, and read
Like the insides of your head
But still it gnaws, and still stings
Because I’m scared of realisations
Dawning of the fact that I steal words
And expressions and feelings too and
Make them my own. The only problem
Here is that I steal from someone who
Can’t ever get them back because
She’s simply stealing from herself.

Universe

She painted stars
On her fingertips
And waited
For someone
To hold on
Long enough
To discover
The universes
They held.

28 Things You've Done Instead Of Studying.

1. Procrastination.

2. Resting in your bed (which has gotten extra comfy all of a sudden.)

3. Shows. (Are you caught up on your shows?!)

4. Comforting friends who are having study-crises.

5. Shamelessly stalk everyone you know on Facebook.

6. Cultivating skills you don’t have.

7. Scrolling through tumblr. Infinitely.

8. Beating your high score in every game ever.

 9. Trying all the Pinterest things. 

 Created a million new, unnecessary Pinterest boards. In reality, Pinterest could be condensed into two categories: stuff you’ll never wind up actually crafting, and stuff you’ll never actually wind up cooking, but who cares? You’ve pinned so many Vera Wang gowns onto your new secret wedding board that at this point you’ve forgotten you’re single. 

10. Thinking about the vast terror of the future.

11. Cleaning.
 It needs to happen, ASAP.

12. Online shopping therapy. 
Gotten most of your holiday shopping done online. You started out by browsing as a quick study break, but now you’ve gotten almost taken care of everything on your shopping list.

13. SURPRISE NAPPING!

14.Food.

15. You get an idea: you can prepare to start studying. Make flashcards!

16. Realizing that if you’re really going to do this, you need coffee.

17. Somehow ending up on YouTube and HOW ARE PEOPLE SO GOOD AT PING PONG?!

18. Pack for your trip home, even though you don’t leave for another five days. 

19. Unpack because you realize you hate every single piece of clothing you’ve put into your suitcases. 

20. Laundry.
 All of your laundry is done. You’ve actually folded everything and put it away for once, too.

21.Instagram.
Spent three hours in a deep, downward spiral on Instagram.
All you wanted to do was check your newsfeed, but then you came across that pretty, kind of boring girl who graduated from your high school. She is now looks like a supermodel, is married and lives in some gorgeous house, documenting her perfect little life one filtered picture at a time.

22. Called your mom. She is anxiously awaiting your return so you two can lunch and shop together.

23.  Gotten a quick mani-pedi.
Obviously the reason you couldn’t focus on anything academic was because you were too busy worrying about the state of your cuticles. Plus, your Lincoln Park After Dark pedicure was way too dark to be considered festive. (Side note, I’m LOVING “The Spy Who Loved Me” right now. It’s red and glittery.)

24. Skyped with your high school bestie, who has also been avoiding studying like it has calories.

25. Create Playlists.
Created so many “study playlists” that you’re convinced you might have actually opened a book, when in reality, you’ve just created the perfect blend of background music for your theoretical reading and note-taking.

26. The Library.
 Decided the only way you’d actually get anything done is by leaving the house and heading to the library. Unfortunately, there is a good chance that every single girl you’ve made out with while intoxicated this semester is there studying too, so you took a minute to put yourself together. You finally achieve a look that says, “I’m hot, but I don’t even care because I’m so focused on my grades,” after 45 minutes.

 27. Spent 20 minutes finding a place to sit at the library that isn’t too close to other people, but still allows you and your besties to get a good view of the hot peeps. 

28.  Realized the odds of you actually FAILING a course don’t exist.
You’re probably going to be fine tomorrow, and worst case scenario, you’re not. C’s get degrees, after all, and the only super smart girl who’s ever been successful is Liz Lemon and nobody likes her. After this epiphany, you realize you still have a solid 4 hours until your 'focus' wears off, so back to Pinterest you go.

A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Likes

Most women are more sensitive about their looks than their feelings. Criticize how she looks and you risk hurting her. And how do you measure her sensitivity? It’s simple, just try clicking her pic. Slowly take out your camera, aim and wait for the miraculous transformation. 

Watch her eyes turn into pellucid pools of kindness, prepare to get blinded by her dazzling smile. But not before she flips her hair, turns her face 45 degrees north (her best angle), pinches her cheeks and smiles her mysterious smile. The one that makes her look like Monalisa.

Even better than Monalisa

You see, she wants the world to see what she sees in the mirror.

Candid clicks are a big no and you can’t get away with just one shot. You are expected to click her again and again from different angles. It’s not because she doesn’t trust you. Experience and many ugly mugshots have taught her that you and your camera take time to warm up to her loveliness. So, she is willing to say cheese 17 times, just for the sake of a priceless capture. The one she can proudly show to her grandkids, when she gets old and wrinkled. Then she will grandly inspect all the shots you took and make you promise to delete the unflattering ones. If you don’t, you risk her wrath. If you upload it on Facebook, you risk getting killed. 

 

This is a strict no-no 

We women have a secret pact – thou shalt not tag/upload any ugly shots of ours. The moment a friend takes out her mobile and aims, we exchange that secret look. “You will make me look the diva that I really am”. Photos that inadvertently capture Christmas indulgences spilling out of our jeans or make us look like a hungry hippopotamus, are meant live happily ever after in the recycle bin.

Since most photos are clicked for the sake of Facebook, we make sure each one of us is informed once they have been uploaded. And then we wait for the comments to follow. Look aghast when only 15 friends like it. Pretend to blush when someone gushes about how we look.

In my distorted opinion, we women spend 33.3% of their lives complimenting each other about our looks. 

One look at a new profile pic on a social networking site and you’ll know what I’m talking about. Out of the 55 comments she gets, 49 will be from her girlfriends – Ooo, you gorgeous thing! Again there’s a secret pact. In a parallel universe it’s called reciprocity. You praise me and I will praise you back – get it? 

I blame social networking sites. Before Facebook, we’d quietly click a few dozen pics of us frolicking in Gulmarg, stick them inside an album with a floral cover, wait for relatives to come over and pounce on them. They’d leaf through the albums, sip Rooh Afza and make a few appreciative noises. That was it. To be called beautiful, we had to solely rely on the free services provided by roadside Romeos. Of course, verbally challenged Kamal Kumar could only express his appreciation by whistling. And that was perfectly okay!

And now thanks to our 567 online friends, who spend all their waking hours waiting to like you and your pics, how can you not believe that you are God’s gift to mankind?

Men seem to be under the impression that we dress up for them. Let me roll on the floor laughing before I shout – you are so wrong! Nope, we dress up for other femmes. Only a woman is capable of noticing the finer nuances of our appearance – the all new plum shade of lipstick, the perfectly tailored trouser that sits so flatteringly on our bum, the brand new clunky watch! And it takes us exactly 10 seconds before we furnish this appraisal. Now turn towards your man and all he will be able to muster is – looking nice, babe! We try our best not look affronted and smile painfully. Yes, it hurts to be called nice. It hurts more if someone calls you cute and it hurts the most when someone has the audacity to suggest – Erm! You look better in your photographs.

No one wants to be caught like that 

Try saying that and you will be hurled out like yesterday’s chapatis.

It’s because all of us would like to believe, that we are prettier and slimmer than our pics. But if you want to risk lifelong affection from us, try looking for our inner beauty. We are suckers for men who appreciate us for the person we are.