Strings of the Stars

I am weak. I struggled lifting myself up with each step on the stairs. I climbed up to my terrace. The stars were waiting to listen to my violin. It is 20th march, 2040 and I was aware that this was my last birthday. I took out my old violin, the strings were relatively younger than me, but I am sure of the wood being really old. Some tree, a beautiful tree and then an amazing artist would have crafted this magical instrument.
I was playing the strings since last three years, the sound was perfect but sensitive. I held it in my arms, placed the base on my shoulder, felt the wooden surface with my cheek and embraced the bow with my right hand. It was time.
Everytime I used to play, some part of me was transmuted with the vibrations to my past. As I placed the bow on the extreme right string, I remembered my first kiss, a sudden touch and everything disappeared. The emotions of the violin had filled the void of the night with a flush of reminiscence. I glided hard to feel my youth in the old veins of my heart being held by the neurons that have never been so kind when it comes to my sexual frustrations. I did not realise that my force at almost injured the extreme right string and with a sudden break in music, I found myself with three strings remaining to be touched.
By this time I knew how the universe was talking to me, I had to settle my impulses, tonight. I placed the blow gently over the extreme left string and dragged the two energies, the music this time was sharper, somehow more alarming. It was the rush of my senses reflected by the dawn of the night where I spent the time away in arms of a beautiful woman. The night went away faster than I could ever perceive. Somehow the music was hurting my heart. It was not the blood pressure but the symphony of my broken trust in the humane frame of life.
This string was strong like my memories of going through the emptiness of her pleasure principles. My pain had sucked in the air around somehow puncturing my lungs with the break of the sound. Another string had broken its effect on me. Somehow, my energy had drained at this point. The remaining two would be the most meladious, the two key strings I play on the most. The most beautiful music. Frequencies that held my heart since the day I got the feel them.
One of them was sensitive over the other, but loved the sensitivity and the frail sound of perfection.


The Fall of Spring

A.R Ammon’s Beautiful Woman:

The Spring
her Step
Turned to

Let’s dwell a little over the syntax and feel contemporary.

The Fall
Her Love
Turned To


We can go beyond the syntax and listen to the flowers singing the reality.

And the glass said, “You are young.”

I am turning 21 tonight. Sitting at the bar with a few of my friends. They all ordered cocktails, Roy ordered one for me, I was just enjoying the ambience, with my phone camera itching in my pocket, screaming out to take pictures. Well, It was my birthday, I am 21 now, but the only thing I want to do right now is to hang from the ceiling and take a picture of the wine bottles kept beautifully under the dark wooden shelf, I probably will do that soon. I am not really turning old, I somehow grew younger with all the smiles that countered my tears this year. I looked at my reflection in a glass of this dark maroon liquid, I felt younger, a little crazier to add on to my vague head. I smiled at my reflection in the glass, just assuring my confidence.

“What are you smiling about?” Roy asked me, greeting me with his plain humble face. This man is one reason my happiness overlay the sorrows of the past. I gave him a wicked cute smile and said, “I can’t even smile now, huh, Roy?” I loved irritating him, He was my own to exploit. But I loved him, so as he offered me the green apple cocktail, I said, “I am happy.” Roy could talk to me from his facial expressions, he winked both his eyes and smiled, one of those gestures that made me feel more alive.

Everybody stared at me, hoping I will start the drinking scenario. I looked at them and gave an awkward smiled and everybody laughed. Then I laughed. I loved how I held this comic stance in my group. I had the power to make anybody laugh with a wicked smile. But the glass of the alcohol, something didn’t feel right about the glass of a drink that helps intoxicate. I feel like such a child, why do I need to intoxicate to have fun. I was looking into the fresh green colour of the drink and all I could think of was to click a picture. I cant help my head running off to the perception I want to capture. I am happy, I thought to myself, I took a sip and as the liquid entered my mouth, the beautiful green apple gently burned.

“Huh, This is not as I expected, its faintly like a soft drink. But worse.” I laughed a little, clearing my throat. “It is alright.” Roy placed his hand on my shoulder and smiled.

So tell me, mister alcohol? I am a very crazy human being, why do I need you to dial out my expression? I am perfectly capable of crying or laughing. Funny social conventions. The reflection of my smile got me to think about all the positives that took place this year. Things were finally shaping up, I had a love story, an itch to photograph, I scored, I am more patient, I worked, huh, overall, it was good. Thanks, Mr. alcohol but I shall have fun without you, for now.

Young. Wild. Free

Happy Birthday! Subhi. Check out her amazing blog here.


A Letter to Love

Dear Diary,
I might die with words that belong to your pages. Some pages that belong to her, hopefully, she will understand. I was born to a beautiful life. Lived like a song and hit highs that no one shall attain. The song got too loud to ignore when I asked questions about this universe and therefore, I kept asking. The questions would make them dance, the society. They don’t like them, people like breathing in the same air that fed centuries of ethos to this planet. I wanted to know the source of it all, I tried science but nothing hit the chords of my heart, nevertheless my head messed up after reading the troublesome textbooks. I was living for questions and dying for answers and then, I met her.

She was a flower bud with flaws all around the submerged petals, and I fell in love with the flawless fatal scars on her face. I waited. Maybe, I am still waiting. But I am waiting for nothing, I know the beautiful silence is the answer to many questions. You see, she never reminded me of her dead past, she reminded of God. She gave me a direction to my answers. To my death. She can understand my need of leaving for answers better than most. And she needs to know and therefore I write tonight. It is very simple, I love her for what she is, and I don’t deserve her for long. She called me, ‘paranoid’ for being in love with her. But my life was too sane to appreciate the fake smiles, I fell for a broken one. A beautiful broken smile. A star that never shines? I can’t help, but rhyme. Love and light in the night, our walks would tell you more. Everything is engrained in space with the ink that formed up in tears and precipitation of my love for her.

I shall leave anytime now, for I know the path. Time is tricky to understand, years without the answers hurts and I am trying to go away. But there she is, loving life, terrified. My family is perfect. Equated well with their questions and answers. I will be one with them, on the other side and it will be peaceful for once, forever. There are pages filled with stories that feature my family. For now, I want to tell you about the flower. Fragile? No, she called herself a “bad-ass”. Who was there to blame her? Nobody knew her. God lies in each one of us, as a poet I had to carve out social codes to greet the God in a person. But, it is easier with the people who never took on the cloak of social conundrums. I met her when we were young, her eyes were naked beyond universes. Don’t blame me on my hyperboles, they are important to the sense of serenity. We got together thinking as if it’s the right thing to do, to the little that I owe my identity to this stupid world, I was happy to propose. Happier to run over the more such events. But there were restraints from our families on the bounds of time as a dimension, we wanted the spirits to bind and run away to God. Surreal? Yes, that is the name of the tree that we spend some time with.

Maya is beautiful. Magical is Maya. And I would leap around the karma if it was not for the universe to hint my way home. Through a pair of eyes that spoke more than the pair of her lips. Just thought, I would let you know. It has only been a few days, but I am leaving soon after fixing things that bound my spirit with her’s.

I am Keats, after all.

Indian Lilacs

Sunlight for the Night

“A walk?”

“Yes. Sounds good.”

“I will take you to death, the tree I told you about.”

“What about life?”

“Yes, it is there too.”

“The sun is out today.”

The sun is not here, I cannot move. I don’t know if the sun. The only voice was the machine next to me, monitoring my heart beats. But I was dreaming. I want to dream again. 

“It is better to imagine, being blind is tough. Better to dream.”

“Yes, you are right. It is peaceful with you.”

“Yes. Nobody gets me the way you can. I escape the world for a reason.”

“I see, I cannot let all of me breathe in the world at once. It is better to be lost.”

No, I can’t see anything. What was I thinking? It is hard in this dark room, listening to my heart lose beats to… beauty? She was beautiful. She is helping my nerves. As if sunlight in the damp world I am in. The hospital. The coma. I cant move. I know I am stuck in the night, but I have her. The memories. I can relive the walks an endless number of times in my head and find peace. 

“You know peace is what I seek. But I am strong.”

“Are you? I feel you are raw human. You have the essence of innocence within. I feel it when you talk and pretend to be strong with certain phrases. But, yes, Peace is all we need.”

“Right now is peaceful, the trees are indeed, beautiful.”

“I know. Too bad death and life are surrounded by people.”

“I like this one the most. What should we call it?”



I will return. All I need is patience. I will return to the sunlight soon.


Subconscious Superheros

A night before her birthday, Erika decided to sleep in the balcony. She felt a strange warmth in the sight of the Indian lilacs filtering the moonlight to reach the road. Unlike other girls, Erika never liked the idea of Birthdays hovering over the sense of expectations. Her eyelids slowly gave up on the love of the landscape around her and she fell asleep.

“Wake up, Erika. Time to save the world!” The huge Neem tree apparently had a funny high-pitched voice, its branches followed up to poke Erika’s nose.

“Hey! I need to sleep. Go away. We will talk in the morning .” She could barely take out any sense, besides her conscious had slipped away into the surreal.

“Erika! You are so lazy. Come on! Get up!” Now the tree had taken a human form, the branch mended into a hand. A boy was sitting on the floor of the balcony.

“What? Samuel! What the hell are you doing here?” Erika woke up into the relevant thought.

“We need to save the world, sweetheart! Remember? You read it! In the class? It was written that we can save the world with love! what was the name of the author? Ah.. Who cares. Maybe I wrote it anyway.”

“Okay? Samuel. What do you really want from me?”

“You see, I am here for a reason. I know this is strange to you. The idea of you being a superhero. But come on! You are one! Don’t you get it!”

Erika woke up from the dream. She smiled on the stars while thinking how certain dreams make no sense. As she adjusted the blanket to sleep again, she sensed a piece of paper inside her blanket. She took it out and placed it under the moonlight. Her mother’s hand writing was imprinted on the hard decorated paper, it said

You are turning nineteen, tonight. I know you are not fond of birthday reads, but here is one for you. You are not an ordinary child, you have seen what I have seen. You have felt my pain at this young age and unlike me, you can still keep up with that cute smile. And that smile is nothing ordinary, it saves me from falling. You are like my superhero, Erika. 

I barely get the time to tell you this everyday, but I wish I could. I seek happiness in you. All I want in my life, is that smile. a constant north star for my soul to feel home. Keep smiling, superhero. And I am sorry, but I got you a present. It is kept next to your bed. I know that your fashion sense is also like the superheros, but please accept that normal blue sweater. 

With Love,

Another Day

The Caravan

A stranger’s smile, the music

A long awaited hug, the music

An innocent face, the music

A pair of eyes in love, the music.

The numbers, a confusion in the head

The numbers, an impatience growing within

The numbers, a fake conversation

The numbers, a meaningless screen scroll.

Another promise to let it all go, the music

An unexpected message, the music

A path lit up in the starry night, the music

Another day to live and forget, the music.

Picture credits: The poet, Sagar Arora

His blog link here.

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