Story of the fake ceiling stars

When nocturnal night settles in,

bringing extreme darkness and cold,

those fake imitation stars

glowing lambent,

glued on the roofing,

secretly narrate the

intimate certitude

of effusively fond people

living under;

ironically similar kind

trying to fit in

side by side,

lame jokes and smiles,

bickering and fights,

tickles and laughs,

blissfully conjoined,

and impeccably content;

living the

not so ideal life,

yet, how buoyant they are.

Those bogus, pseudo stars

recount the everyday jiffies

of weird people living under,

in amazement and curiosity

as to how they make it possible.

Perhaps,

they are both

greatest and incurable idiots,

unobtrusively in love,

abnormal and cynical,

passably hopeless,

and peculiarly inexplicable;

yet, perfect and unconquerable

their devotion is…

©passionbookworm

I’ll follow you

It is dawn now
Another rosy day
has begun
I’m walking
on those faded footprints,
The waves had
washed them away,
but I had memorized

I follow this path
in the incessant hope
of meeting you
Walking along the shore
or traversing through the ocean
I’m anxious,
I’m eager
to see you,
to grasp your very esse
in my, possibly implausible
but sanguine heart
I’m exhausted now
But I’ll continue
I may drown
But I’ll hold on
I won’t stop
I’ll be there

Coz I know,
a day will come
when we’ll conjoin,
in this realm,
or, perchance another
We’ll be one
We’ll certainly coalesce
at the panoramic horizon
or perhaps,
into the profound depth
of the ocean
And we’ll stay,
then and forever,
that way

Until then,
Darling,
I’ll keep on pursuing
this arduous path
that leads me
to love,
to you
©passionbookworm

Realization

Lost in my depressing thoughts and trying to keep the emotions at bay, I was wandering around aimlessly, focus being on just forgetting everything and moving on. The light breeze, or the darkness or the sound of insects did nothing to supress my urge to just run away and never come back. As I was moving forward, in the back of my mind, a sound registered which was completely different yet familiar. Something other than the nonsensical gloominess I drowned myself in. Those thoughts abruptly came to a stop when I found I was surrounded by the trees swaying to the light wind, crickets chirping happily, the zephyrs caressing my face and hair, and above all, that particular sound. Now I was very aware of myself and the fact that I was in an unknown territory in the middle of the night where I could die the next moment and no one would know for days. Heart beating erratic, I began walking towards it, to fulfil my curiosity, not caring about the consequences just yet, for in my heart, it felt like I had been here before
The dry leaves rustling beneath my now dirty shoes was the only sound my mind was capable of registering, other than my irregular heartbeat, all other noises fading into the background as I proceeded towards what might be my early death. The ambience felt eerily familiar, as if it was just yesterday when I had been here, though I couldn’t remember the life of it.

After a few minutes of walking, I noticed that there was a clearing in the forest and the sound was coming from there. Once I stepped out, I halted. It was the most breathtaking sight I had ever witnessed. I couldn’t move, all incoherent thoughts and worries long gone. The mesmerizing sound of waves going back and forth, the blue ocean sparkling in the moon light, the dark sky covered with innumerous starts, twinkling and shimmering, making their presence known, the lights illuminating the whole of the city and lastly the wind blowing my hair away, and touching the raw moisture on my face. I didn’t realize my tears were out.

I remembered this scenic beauty from 15 years ago. My mother said something no daughter should have been told and I was upset. I ran away and found myself here, with my best friend. I can still see her oceanic blue eyes spirited with life, small smile on lips and her auburn hair in cute pigtails, reprimanding me on how I should let go.

That day we talked, she told me how she had a hole in her heart which the doctors couldn’t fix and that she was going to die in a few days. She told me how she loved the time she was here, the short life she got was a blessing and how she saw herself in one parallel universe, living the life she could have. We talked about life, happiness, dreams, sorrows, situations, what we knew, what we imagined and everything two 5 year olds wouldn’t even think about. Though she was always the matured one among us, but that day, something changed, we grew.

I remember her expression when she said, “Vi, I love you and I want you to love yourself. No matter how hard the situation would be, don’t give up. Life is not worth letting the agony take over, its much more. Live, be happy and smile on the way coz that’s what life is all about. Its whatever you want it to be.”

Thought I still had so much to work on that, but I realized that’s what its supposed to be. So, instead of tormenting myself by falling into the abyss of unearthed desolation, why not run towards the optimistic ray of sunshine she talked about. She was right. She had always been. And now, it was time to make her proud and do everything she would have wanted me to do.

As I watched the beautiful yet dangerous waves rising up and then falling down, trying to reach as far on the shore as they could, I realized what I had to do. I knew now. The soothing sound of those waves gave me the answers to my unasked questions as I waited for some more, basking in the pacifying tranquility of the night. Coz, things were going to change now. The next morning was going to be beautiful, and this time, I was ready.

©passionbookworm

Dreams

Gazing at the starlit sky with a crescent moon adorning it, I was laying down in my backyard, preoccupied in my preposterous thoughts again. This time they were about dreams. Not those dreams which are needed to enhance our future, no. I was talking about those uncanny, absurd dreams which we see in our slumber and usually don’t give much thought. Dreams are riveting. They take us to another parallel universe where things happen the way we wish. They take us to some other dimension, far away from the concrete, where we can be the hero. But sometimes, they also make us visualize what we wish to escape from. Yes, nightmares. They are dreams too, just what we don’t want to see.

What exactly are these dreams and nightmares? I’ve heard people say that, what we mull over whole day, we see them at night as dreams. I don’t know the accuracy behind the statement, so, I’m not going to comment on that. I believe that dreams don’t entirely reflect reality, but they do contain morsels of it here and there. They are a coalescence of factual and fictional, like actual people in a chimerical world. I’ve also heard another myth that morning dreams come true. No offense to people who believe in it, but I personally don’t. I don’t see their perspective and logic coz my morning dreams have never come true. And why would they? They were just silly, ridiculous dreams treading on the thin thread which connects reality and fantasy.

And nightmares? They are either the precise or the exaggerated panorama of the pain we have endured. We either visualize those horrifying, traumatic mental images (which we desperately want to forget) like a slide show, or we envision their amplified version where the intensity is heightened to a whole new level coz of the dreadful apprehension we create in our mind.

You must be thinking why I’m talking about these dreams and nightmares. Well, thats coz I’ve undergone them too. As beguiling and vitalizing these dreams are, which we wish would occur in practicality too; I’d never dare to think about the nightmares. Those haunting memories feel so terrifyingly echt, that I’d only fall deeper into the abyss and no one would be able to pull me out, even if they try.

Its not the first time I was thinking about all these, but seeing the alluring night made me think again. No, its not that this darkness is saddening. Instead, for me, darkness is blissful and night is glorious. We feel and realize things at night. And exactly that happened. As I was staring at the lambent stars, I realized something. Stars are the celestial bodies having their own light. When all that is found in the night is darkness, they shine on their own as if they are made for it, as if they live in it. Maybe they are, maybe they do. They live through the negativities, but still twinkle bright, giving us a lesson that these negativities can’t bother us; they intrude only if we let them. So, instead of just accepting defeat without even trying, we shouldn’t lose hope. Yes, it may take time but even these stars weren’t created in a single day.

I was amazed how these little things of nature can give lessons so priceless. Slowly, I felt myself drifting off to that parallel universe. I slept, with a mitigated smile. That night, I dreamt again, only instead of having nightmares, I dreamt of a star, of myself. I dreamt of myself shining fervently like a gossamer star, in the darkness. Now I knew that I was going to write my own story. It was going to be a new beginning.
©passionbookworm

Rain

Sitting on my windowsill with a warm cup of coffee in my hand, its vapor touching my nose and a sad smile on my face. Looking at those tenebrous mysterious nimbus clouds which hold its own secrets and the darkness all around as if an apocalypse is just on the edge of its occurrence. Rains are depressing. No offense to those who love them, but for me, they are a semblance of those sinister, gloomy, disconsolate shadows of dingy, saturnine quandam. Hence it lead me to go through the memory lane. Straying in those sweet memories and just losing myself.

Its not that I always hated them. No. There was a time when monsoon was my favourite season. I remember my little self getting all excited and happy seeing the few droplets of water from the balcony and running around the house yelling that I want to go to the terrace to get drenched in the natural shower; shower of not just water but also of love, of belongingness, of childish innocence, and the carefree giggles. Without a facade to maintain, just delirious and naif and loving the world. Those were the days I wish, would come back but that is just wistful thinking.

Gradually, the love for deluge attenuated. I had to go to places, attend my classes, spend time with friends and do all those necessary works which I wasn’t able to coz of heavy downpour. That exhilaration I used to feel upon seeing the precipitation, perished with time. And that shower of love, innocence and giggles turned into a shower of temporary, selfish and fake people. But it was beneficial too, as my naive and immature heart needed to experience things to grow.

Eventually, that bit of like for the rainfall turned into dislike. I began sitting at home with windows closed and curtains drawn, just trying to drown in the bittersweet aroma of that warm coffee and the warmth oozing from the cup, the smell of old books, immersed in the feels of the characters in it, as if I’m one of them. Its inexplicable how these little things can help forget the pain, the morose of those unwanted remembrances. Coz now those showers of temporary, selfish and fake people turned into the showers of the inhumane, vicious and betraying people and the cerebration of those painful, heartbreaking memories and them crusading to form insecurities and fears.

Yet, once in a while, I sit down on the windowsill, and look at the water droplets, dripping recurrently from those cryptic, inscrutable nimbus clouds and attempt to find that silly, innocent, little girl who used to get excited and happy seeing those droplets of water and languishing to dance in the quixotic, romantic rain…..
©passionbookworm

Life is…

As I was walking down the path that lead me to a friend’s house, I was contemplating over something that has been bugging me for days. Life! Yes, that is what has been pestering me for long now. What exactly is life? Before I could begin cogitating over it, a sudden movement caught my attention and my eyes drifted to that direction. There was a little girl around 6 years, wearing a cute sundress with two pigtails, blushing and shying away from a guy who was wearing a regular jeans and T-shirt, hands in his pocket, and was smiling at her adoringly. They looked cute. As I looked around, I found many kids yelling and playing, laughing and squealing, just enjoying life with each other. They were all happy, with living in the present; unaware of their future, of what would come, of the things they’d have to face, incognizant of how this happy bubble of theirs could burst any minute; they were all oblivious to life and what it brings.

Yes, I’d say, more than beautiful, life is challenging. We meet people, we lose some; we perpetrate mistakes, rectify them later; we hurt and betray people even if unintentionally, and are scathed and deceived in return, even intentionally; we neglect the apparently evident things which are in front of eyes, and run behind those which look good from the distance, totally forgetting the proverb ‘All that glitters, is not gold’; and finally, the most eminent, we feel. Emotions are a primal part of life. We feel happy, and we feel sad, we feel angry and we feel crazy; we feel lonely, and we feel hurt; but above all, we feel love. Love! Just one word which is the key to conquer the whole world. No, I’m not implying that its enough to make it through everything; I’m just saying that its crucial to give us strength to keep trying without losing hope. It isn’t for just lovers, but for everyone. Coz love is pure. Trust is the key to any relationship, but love is the essence of it. It all starts with trust, but it all stays with love. Yet, the gullible, addlepated, egocentric and obstinate we, make mistakes and then try to amend it, while dealing with the consequences. Either we learn from it, and try not to reiterate, or just continue without acquiring from it. And that is life, I guess.

Life is all about committing mistakes and learning from them. Its about trying and making through it. Coz life is unplanned and unpredictable. It is that unwitting journey, where you start as a baby, having no real destination. You only learn while going through it, and you keep learning till the end. Along the way, people come and go, some helping you to find your goal, some helping you reach there; many creating barriers, while some teaching you to overcome them. Life is that challenge which people are afraid to face, but its the authenticated ‘do or die’. Either you live or you don’t. Either you constantly keep yourself together and try to survive, or you just succumb to it and give up. Life is that undeniable truth, which forms the foundation of this mortality. So, cherish it, face it, keep it, take it, give it, care for it, love it and live it. Coz that is incisively the rationale of our existence and the apotheosis of life. With this understanding, it was time for me to occlude my cerebration, for I had arrived at my address.
©passionbookworm

She Persists Growing

People leave
Blame she
Heart grieves
Can’t flee

Raw wounds
Incoherent mind
Happiness pruned
Melancholy unwind

Misty eyes
Fagged soul
Emptiness resides
Tears roll

Fears increase
Body exists
Nowhere peace
Chaos persists

Scattered emotions
Fragile heart
Poignant notions
Falling apart

Yet she arise
Moving on
From her demise
To a new dawn

Hiding behind walls
Display of timidity
To avoid brawls
Seeking positivity

Wefting broken pieces
Heaving herself up
Straightening the creases
And redevelop

Trying to persevere
They aren’t worth
Her principles, adhere
Retrieving her mirth

Endeavoring to win
Fighting alone
But, robust within
A girl grown
(into a woman)
©passionbookworm

PC ©passionbookworm

Imagine

Imagine us being the main characters
Of my favourite novel
Or your favorite anime?
Like you were the Ambrose
To my Lillian
Or I was the Mitsuha
To your Taki.
Or how it would be
If I were the Rapunzel
To your Flynn
Or you were the
Prince charming
To my Ella.
Or maybe if we were the
Leslie and Jess
Of Bridge to Terabithia
Creating the magical world
And fascinated by every being.
Or maybe I could be
the Liana Moore
To your Ashton Parker
And we could together
Find the right definition
Of what love is
And what it isn’t.
How amazing would it be
If we were the
The Shizuka and Nobita
Going around the world
And fulfilling all our wishes
With the help of Doraemon?
Just imagine
How everything would be
When you’ll be the
William Ferguson,
The Duke of Rothwell
And I’ll be the
Lady Madeleine
Making our own ways
To the happily ever after.
How beautiful it would be
To live in a different world
As two people
Living those infamous love stories
Of all the time
Only, in our own way.
Or maybe we could just
Go invisible and witness
All their love
And secretly help them
Face the obstacles
And meet each other
A little earlier.
And then we would be
Writing different stories
Something of us
Something of them
Combined together
And creating a new one
Not altering the original
But just another version
Of those splendiferous moments,
Making love in different ways.
How would it be?
©passionbookworm

The Coffee Shop

The bell dinged as I entered the sweet little heaven. The bittersweet smell of coffee and sugary sweetness lingering around touched my nostrils. Ah! This was heavenly, exquisite. I don’t know why but this smell of coffee beans and saccharine delicacies always had a soothing effect on me. I looked around to find a seat where I could get a bit privacy too and found one at the back corner beside the window. Perfect! I gave my order of an Oreo Frappuccino and sat down at the seat.

Again I looked around, this time to observe the few people here. There was a middle aged man, his head stuck behind a newspaper, a young woman probably around 30 with a 5 year old daughter, the girl happily nibbling on the cookies and the woman just smiling at her adorableness. There was a young couple sitting at a corner, just lost in themselves. I guess they were on a date, love shining in the eyes and rosy blush on cheeks were obvious. A girl around my age, gobbling up as if she hasn’t been fed for ages; but the dark circles around her eyes and the dried tear marks on her face told a different story. There was a guy around 14, typing away furiously on the phone, a bubbling smile on the face. Hmm, someone’s got a crush. There was an old couple, the woman talking animatedly and the man gazing at her fondly. It was heart-warming to see love even after all these years. There was a young guy too, glaring at everyone and everything, though by the dark circles, unsettled eyes and dried blood on his knuckles, I could say he was having a hard time.

And lastly, there was me, a girl just lost in her own thoughts, drinking her Oreo Frappuccino. It felt home. So many people, some happy, some depressed, going through so many things, coming here to either celebrate or just to forget their problems, even if temporary and drown in the bitter and sweet goodies offered here. These classy walls of the shop had seen so much, felt so much. The different life stories people brought with them must have been fascinating. These walls had seen them all, people celebrating their love, spending time with friends or family, or coming to forget their sorrows, businessmen conducting meetings or just bringing their secretaries on dates, couples kissing or just holding hands or maybe leaving each other. New love stories must have been created here and people must have broken up here.

This coffee shop had so many intriguing and entrancing tales to tell. If these walls, or maybe the tables, the wallpapers or even the crockeries could speak, they could have narrated endless tales of people from their experiences.

I abruptly noticed that my drink was long gone. It was time to go. Finally, I knew why people felt home here. Coz the shop saw everything, provided comfort and warmth to everyone, but never revealed their stories. Be it their unfortunate pasts, miseries, regrets or just love, celebration, success; it was all confined within these walls.

I looked around once again and with a contended smile, went out. The fresh air devoid of the bittersweet aroma felt empty. The bell dinging was the last thing I heard.
©passionbookworm

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