Why write?

They asked me why do I write? I kept silent not because I didn’t have an answer but because I had too much to say. I write because I don’t know there is a life possible without it, I write because I don’t know how to live without writing. Because it seems like the most natural thing to do, like my hands were made to hold a pen and rest it on a page and scrawl words across it. Painting the page with ink and shapes. It brings out the best in me. And, it reminds me who I really am; just a girl who wants to write.

This great urge to write; it is both a curse and blessing at once. It’s like a prison with no lock. You’re free and bound at once. A paradox really.
I write because, for me, it’s not a part, but a way of life.
I write because I have to. Because the need is greater than almost everything else. And this need presides over my life.

Write you a letter..

I’ll write you a letter I’ll never send
You’ll never know what is was meant to be
A love letter or all my goodbyes

A crisp white page would have your name
written on top with my favorite ink
And I’ll gently caress it, afraid to read aloud
Tracing the words, imagining your face

I’ll write you this letter that you’ll never see
Just like you went your way,
hardly sparing a careless glance

And I’ll finally write it
and put in a locked closet
where it’ll fade into nothingness
ink fading with everything I felt for you

I’ll write you a letter but you’ll never know
because I’ll realize, all this while it was for me
And as the ink flowed,
I could see how much I needed this

The letter, I’ll keep it with me.

Home

Home is where someone protects your heart. Where you can wear your heart on the sleeve. Where you laugh louder. Where sadness doesn’t mean fear. Where you have the freedom to enjoy the pain, to cry. Where a hug is never far away. Where you learn what love means, better than any dictionary can teach you. Where you have your own space but no need of hiding.

Home is not a place.
It is a feeling.
It is freedom.

When..

Beauty and is the beast.

100!

I started this blog in Feb’ 2012 and less than a year later, here I am. With 100 followers! Thank you to everyone who read, shared, and appreciated my work. A bigger thanks to those who criticized and felt it wasn’t quite great, thank you, you made me better. I know I haven’t really posted as often as I should but I plan to remedy that in this new year of 2013. Wish you the best for 2013.

With love and gratitude
Mahima

Goodbye Little Girl

Reha made this painting ‘I want to live’. Please click the image to reach her profile.

 

It’s alright now, little girl
you can give up,
we’ll fight your fight
and we’ll win it for you.

Don’t struggle so hard,
we know how brave you are
we know the pain you endured
and nothing in vain
we promise you that.

It’s okay brave soul
go to a better place
the humanity is dead anyway
and we’ll join you in a while
hopefully carrying answers.

And it’s okay angel
You deserve a better place
where beasts and monsters don’t roam,
roam in human disguise.

You gave us a chance,
we see us in you,
we see you in us,
you gave us a chance
to hope for a change.

They called you the fearless one,
the brave soul they said,
but that hardly matters now,
it’s alright now dear sister, mother and daughter
after all, you’re one of us,
and now it’s not just you we fight for,
it is our fight.

And it’s okay angel
You deserve a better place
where beasts and monsters don’t roam,
roam in human disguise.

I hope a heaven for you,
I’ll dream one for you,
where you can finally rest in peace.

I wrote this as the news of her death started coming in, it is my tribute for the girl they called Damini, Amanat, Nirbhaya – The fearless one, the brave heart. For me she was also a  girl who left too soon, and unjustly so. And she deserves to not die in vain.

This poem got published in DNA Mumbai on 31st December’2012:  http://epaper.dnaindia.com/epapermain.aspx?pgNo=9&edcode=820009&eddate=2012-12-31

The fallen leaf

The seasons changed
And one day, the warmth of the sun fought with the chill of the earth
Everything faded into vividness of darkness and richness,
of yellows and reds

That’s when I fall on the ground,
of soft damp earth,
I await my fate.

Days go by,
smiling children play nearby,
lovers meet; lovers kiss
And till I see the sights,
I take a sigh of relief

I try to not think of the day,
the day those children and those lovers might take it away
They’ll playfully pass by and press me down on earth
and i’ll crinkle and tear like an old paper
having finally met my destiny.

I’m the fallen leaf,
I see the seasons change
And revel in the joy,
and weep for my fate.

The One.

The times are wicked.
The hearts, poisoned.

And in this madness,
there is no one,
no one to call our own.

The tears have had their way,
travelling down the face,
soaking our skin,
leaving a burning trail.

Looking for someone,
they can be the one,
bringing meaning to words,
for you.

The times are wicked.
The hearts, poisoned.

So we must keep caution,
for trust is often given in vain.

And there is a way,
we all do take.
Close ourselves away,
from the world.
Save us the pain,
save us some trouble.

For, the times are wicked.
The hearts, poisoned.

It has never been easy,
living in this madness, for anyone.
But never did we have it so bad.

For now,
each one of us,
barely touch how we should,
to bare ourselves,
we have forgotten how to.

So we sit,
quietly in a corner,
awaiting our turns.

Hopeful big eyes,
sometimes cry,
and sometimes they smile.
Waiting their turn.

Is it worth it,
this game we play.
In the end does it matter,
how we played.

The times are wicked.
The hearts, poisoned.

Looking for our beloved,
we want them to come to us,
they wait for us.
This hide-and-seek.

We say we live freely,
but what we live in is fear.

Courage we must seek,
or the love we need hides itself well.

So, let in the poison,
embrace the wicked.

For in the thousand,
we find what we sought,
the one.

The one,
worth our time,
worth the hurt,
worth all the pain.

The times are wicked.
The hearts, poisoned.

Till the time,
until they come.

And in this madness,
there is no one,
no one to call our own.

Save them,
the ones we will call our own.

Of love and lovers

Cold air touched her bare skin. They were lying on the terrace, city lights twinkling. Open naked sky, just like them. She could feel goosebumps. She murmured softly, in a slumber. Let out a content sigh and traced her fingers on his arm. He slowly opened his eyes, looked at her and smiled. Stroked her hair and pulled her closer. Kissed her hair, slowly traced his lips along hers. Pressed his lips harder, wanting her more than anything else, in that moment for all he cared, he would give up the world to have her. He reached her jaw line and then let his hands wander. She let out a gasp and clutched him, wanting him to come closer. He was just not close enough.

She was burning, his love consumed her. She wanted him, in that moment she realized that it was just them, and she did not care what the future will bring. They lived in the moment, in one another. Love was becoming something tangible. The breaths came harder now. Broken only with pounding heartbeats and slow moans; the desire that drove them crazy, left them insane; the feeling that nothing will be enough, that they’ll always want each other more.

It was reaching a crescendo, she was no longer stifling her moans, she no longer had any control, he possessed her, she wanted him to possess her, to love her like she will break any moment, to love her like she’ll be in pieces otherwise. To love her like an animal. Sweat glistened on his body, dropping on her naked form. She observed as if seeing from afar, having lost all semblance of reality. She screamed, it was almost too much to bear, right then she felt like she’ll dissolve into nothingness of pain and pleasure. And then, it was over.

The world was still. She could suddenly listen to other sounds, as if the world just came into existence. She turned, the cold floor helped cool her feverish, burning skin. She had never been this happy. He looked at her, happy she was his. Only his. And in that moment the world belonged to them, and they belonged to the world. 

Love

 

Love, like seasons, changes.
Sometimes, love rains.
Sometimes, it is cold. Piercing.

Sometimes though, love burns.
Brighter than summer sunshine.

Because, seasons come and go.
Just like love.