Categories
Writing

Goodbye.

Lets talk about goodbyes through a poem I wrote a year ago.

In my last post,(click here to find that) I talked about changing schools and learning from it.I also mentioned that I grew to love my old school so much,I was shattered to leave it.I wrote a little poem when I came back after my last day at that school,over a year ago and found it quite recently when I stumbled upon one of my old journals.

Here goes,

GOODBYE

That day I smiled,

but my heart wasn’t in it,

My shirt and a bunch of markers,

was  all that took to stain it,

With little doodles and scribbles,notes and drabbles,

Memories flowing on fabric,inside jokes coming up like cadets,

but amidst the frolicked frenzy,

sitting upon our heads like death looms upon an ancient man,

The smirks were gone,

and in their place came the tears,

travelling down our faces to the very tips of our noses,

trailing a path in seemingly measured doses,

the hugs were shared,kisses not spared,

and then ,then was uttered that one word,

that encompassed all that had happened throughout our time together,

the one that would be remembered,

when our hair turned white,

and our legacies gathered around us tight,

the one glorious- Goodbye.

 

Categories
Life Writing

Why Do I Write?

Lets talk about why I write today.

In my previous post I  talked about my school’s camp and a ‘Personality Pageant’ I participated in there. For better insight into today’s post you can check that post out here.

In the question-answer round of the Personality Pageant, I was asked several questions whilst on stage. Most had to do with this blog, writing and reading. One of them, which completely shook me up for a minute there was such a seemingly obvious, easy yet such a profound ,delving-into-my-very soul kind of question. That very simple question asked by one of the judges was, “Why do you write?”

Now, why do I write? It’s not like it’s as essential to me as breathing or I have a message to deliver to the world. Nor do I have that interesting a life nor extraordinary experiences to talk about.I’m as normal as it gets and my life is very usual and perfectly ordinary. Then , the question again is, why do I write?

The first thing that came in my head when I heard that question was a glimpse from my childhood, when I was 9-10 years old and the biggest tragedy  for me was my best friend revealing my very very confidential ‘secret’ to someone else. I remembered how when tragedy struck,  I had, feeling utter betrayal, after tearing up in front of my mother, grabbed a sheet of paper, a pencil and wrote about the incident, how I felt, the sadness and the trauma I was feeling. And, I remember feeling so so much better. Then, It became a practise, good days I wrote about in my journal, bad days I let out my emotions on a sheet of paper, crumpled it up and threw it away. Writing was and remains my therapy, words my solace and pen and paper my best friends.

I wrote because it made me happy, it made me feel better and it made me, as a person, better. I have always been quite a chatterbox and my friends honestly(Not without proof) believe that I can talk about anything and everything for hours. Writing gave me a medium to express all my thoughts and opinions in another manner, like dancing, singing (To myself), drawing and other things have been for me always. It was fuel and motivation for the creativity in me, which in all honesty, is one of the things I value in others and myself the most. Put creativity, imagination and  crazy ideas all together and you’re already my best friend.

I  realised I write because I find expressing myself as essential as breathing and wish to leave a message for the world, something which I learn over my lifetime and leave for the future generations.I wish to have a life interesting enough to write about and have extraordinary experiences. I write because I wish to be something beyond the usual ,something more than perfectly ordinary.

With all this running in my head in a fraction of seconds, I heard myself saying,” I write to, in simple words, express myself. I consider myself a creative person with a lot of thoughts, opinions and emotions, expressing which is imperative for me. Therefore, writing for me, is one of my favourite mediums to speak my heart out, express my creativity and offer a little piece of myself to the world.”

 

 

Categories
Writing

Valentine’s Day.

Let’s talk about Valentine’s Day  today.(And  a little piece I wrote ages ago that goes with the general mood.)

Valentine’s Day, the 14th of February. Why is there such a hype about it? And why this specific date, I mean, who on this planet had the right and authority to decide that this particular day had to be celebrated as a day of love? Why can’t we just not buy into this commercial gimmick and live all days with love instead of going all extravagantly lovey-dovey one day?

I’ve got the answer. Its simple, short and truthful. We all want to be loved and feel love.If you want to hear it put another way ask Siri what 0 divided by 0 is.   Do it even if you don’t, Happy Valentine’s Day from me.

As someone who’s mother’s birthday and parents’ anniversary is on the same day as Valentine’s Day I do have to make a huge affair about it. Yes, this incredibly unbelievable  thing is true. My father always jokes how every shop turns pink and full of hearts and love related things to remind him that mom’s birthday is coming up. I thank the commercialisation, making it easier for me to find things pink and fluffy, just as my mother likes it. But, doesn’t mean I approve. Because I’m a human being and its our duty and responsibility to complain about every thing we have.(Sarcasm is a wonderful thing, mates.)

Enough being human. I wrote a little piece, an eulogy actually, after reading copious amounts of YA novels and watching a lot of tragic romances. I’ve put it here as I feel that it gets this love thing alright .Its the only thing I’ve written that makes me get all feelsy. Here it goes.

The Broken Rollercoaster

The first hello. The last goodbye. Isn’t that what I’m here to talk about? How it was? How it is, now? But I won’t. Its unfair to him. He’ll want me to say what I truly want to say. He never wanted me to sound like someone else. So truth is, thinking about him is like listening to a lullaby. A soft, soft one. That day when we bumped into each other, face first, mind you, on the day I actually bothered to look good. In one fast motion, he caught me. Saving me. In all the ways person could ever be saved. We had our perfect friendship. We had one hell of a love story . We were on a smooth, smooth  road on rollercoaster pace.

But sometimes, roller-coasters are too fast. They fail, they break and the road isn’t all that smooth anymore. In one fast motion, I failed to catch him. He was lost, in all the ways a person ever could be.

Today, my love, as I write these words, the only thing I would like to say if you are in some form,still here is:

You were my only sunshine. The only thing that could calm me down and make my heart race at the same time. And now, you’ve become my lullaby. Giving me peace. Giving me hope. I love you. Present tense.