“At one magical instant in your early childhood, the page of a book—that string of confused, alien ciphers—shivered into meaning. Words spoke to you, gave up their secrets; at that moment, whole universes opened. You became, irrevocably, a reader.” –Alberto Manguel

Random Posts

Saturday, December 27, 2014

Nightmare

“Talking about that hollow black spot in the middle of your heart –where all your fears, worries, pain and unexpressed enigmatic agony lies –it sometimes turns up into a nightmare and haunts you, chases you. You sometimes can count on people who will save you and hug you when you are shivering. But honey, nobody can go into your sleep and then into the dreams to save you from nightmares. Nobody else can see the monster that chased to kill you in your nightmares. Nobody else can find that creepy creature under your bed that scares the hell out of you. Nobody else can feel that shiver down the spine that you felt in nightmare. In daylight, there is a crowd with unknown faces and names and identities to chase that monster to slay, but when its dark and city sleeps, nobody else burns their midnight oil to search the one who haunted you.”















In the middle of night;
when it’s dark and you sleep,
all the monsters come alive;
scare and make you weep.

You wake up screaming;
with the blood-shot eyes,
unsure who is for comfort;
that’s when you realize.

It was a nightmare;
monster under your bed is gone,
go on by the prayer,
and you feel so alone.

You’re lost in despair;
followed by sighs,
it hits your memory again;
makes you paralyze.

But it still scares you;
where all the angels hide,
you look fine but;
there’s something not fine inside.

It was a nightmare;
monster under your bed is gone,
you go on by the prayer,
and you feel so alone.

~Shreya 

P.S. My creation, please do not copy | Copyright © Protected | Image: Google

P.P.S. Non Fiction!

Thursday, December 18, 2014

People

Hey.. Peeps.. :) To understand people without being wrong about them is not always possible. We misunderstand, assume and complain. We have a cognitive image about people. Sometimes we are misunderstood and have an image, we don’t even know we ever had. I think we actually never understand anybody; we only have an idea of them and build our perceptions, expectations, beliefs and relations on them. It is a big thing –to make your castles of expectations so high only on ideas. When you give somebody your time, you actually invest something important to the relationship –whatever it is. You know you are never gonna get that time back, time is a gift you know. Sometimes you have everything, but lack by time. And sometimes you prefer somebody over everything else –be, it is your sleeping time, dinner, a meeting, you have a flight or any other possible thing. 

But if we relate and realize all the possibilities being in opposite situation, maybe we can empathize well. When you hear something bad about somebody you hate them, but when similar thing happens with you –you develop affinity for them; certainly you hate them a little less and hate yourself a little for being that wrong. Some people are too good, they love you even when you don’t deserve it and you know it. Love is a chain you know. We receive, we gotta give. If you hold it back, you won’t be happy for long. I hate some people for being mean, selfish and doing odd things to me. I know they are not good enough to be connected, but still I keep them in circle hoping it all will be fine.

Thing I hate myself about is procrastination. I delay things that need to be cut out in no time and that’s why it kicks me back and somehow it goes on loop. I also hate it when I do good to people who don’t deserve it and do less good to people who deserve it. Sometimes people do bad things and go on doing it without any reason, and it becomes a habit. They do not have bad intentions, it is just they don’t know and don’t wanna know the consequences. Not knowing is not bad, but choosing to not know causes harm. When you keep hurting people, it brings odd things to you too, or maybe I am saying this ‘cause it sounds better and relieves me and keeps me going on doing well.

Sometimes I don’t understand the reason of something odd happened, but most of the times I don’t wanna understand ‘cause it has already been on the loop multiple times that it has become so cliché that it starts repelling me. Being in night shift I enter my own room like a thief, silent and lost and hit myself with things being in dark so that other people in room don’t wake up. But not always you reap what you sow. Sometimes, it is exact opposite and disappointing. Sometimes, you are at wrong place and wrong time and with wrong people, and everything falls apart. When you are not sleepy and trying hard to sleep, even a tic of clock annoys you. 

I don’t know, maybe not everything is to be understood. There are people who understand you, who don't understand you and then ones who don't want to understand you. But that's okay; you are not theorem to be understood. Sometimes you hang out with people with absolutely opposite traits, that is how you gain experience and a remarkable episode. There are multiple types of people –some people read complete book. Some people get bored and hop onto another one. Some people read a book and randomly come across a book they can’t ignore and they bookmark the first book. Some people jump the lines and finish the chapters just to know what happened. Some people underline best lines and remember them forever. It all describes a lot about behavior. 

Things change, people change, thinking change, everything that exists –change. How can you believe a promise then? Maybe there is that profound intensity of understanding and belief that sells you this. Sometimes it is all a dogma, you never want to believe and dislike everything and everyone equally. Does anybody relate with that? Sometimes you like dogs more than people, ‘cause you don’t want to be judged and need a hug. A pet gives you all that without much in return. People are vulnerable at times, their morals go so paper thin that they make momentary self-comfort primary and everything else secondary. Sometimes your idea of understanding people proves to be totally wrong and you measure everyone else with same parameters. Virginia Woolf quoted, “It is no use trying to sum people up.” True, ain’t it? Signing out, may God bless y’all.. :) 

Sunday, December 7, 2014

Nobody Cares

“Let’s face the fact that nobody cares, if I sleep, eat and doing fine –nada, zilch. So isn't it a balanced equation if I don’t care at all? Why, I can’t be selfish as hell? What if I say, I fucking care but don’t have any medium to convey. What if am perfectly bad at expressing and fail every time without delay. Damn, these expectations –they’re like Pandora box. People are not Piñatas –that you hit them, break them and they shower care. Couldn't there be such strong telepathy that interference of words is not required to justify? I am not the girl who wears heart on her sleeves. I always thought I had time to explain, which was me being so naïve. I don’t want to lose time in explaining and proving now, for whatever I’ll do will echo in eternity.”



























You were born all alone;
moulded from dust into human,
met people in meanwhile;
and yet you belong to none.

Affinity and wishes;
jealousy and complains,
shall vanish like smoke in air;
‘cause nothing remains.

For all the times you’re hurt;
or been lost in despair,
will fade away in time;
‘cause nobody cares.

Nothing lasts forever;
you and I will pass too,
this time will never be back;
neither will be me and you.

All the memories wrapped in time;
shall pass like sand from hands,
you will travel all alone;
the paths to death lands. 

For all the times you’re hurt;
or been lost in despair,
will fade away in time;
‘cause nobody cares.

~Shreya

P.S. My creation, please do not copy | Copyright © Protected | Image: Google

P.P.S. Work Of Fiction!

Tuesday, December 2, 2014

Zero Fuck

Hey…. Peeps.. :) So do you give a damn of what people think, about you? How much it bothers to be on the opposite side and being judged exactly wrong? How many times did you change your thinking or decisions because you had a voice in your head saying, what people will think? How much difference it makes to know that being right you are not welcomed the way you imagined and deserved?  How much mass opinion matter? How much social reputation matter? How it has been, being a social wallflower?

At a point of time, you care of what people will think; but there is peak time of everything. There comes a saturation point, when you are just done with concept of people and pleasing them, where you are content with the understanding of what the fuck are you doing? Regardless of myths and facts, I have ranked belief above all. Suppose if I believe mermaid exists then I really don’t give a fuckity fuck of what people think how immature I am. Not even when million theories can prove that they do not exist. People are no new species they are you and me, and I see you as extension of myself. I hope my extension not to hurt me, but if that happens I come clean.

Why I believe in concept of zero fuck is because, it sometimes exactly conveys what I try to express. Zero fuck is a middle finger salute to all the people, things, scenarios which were un-welcomed and unpleasant. Where I found myself clean and still stuck in mess. Sometimes it is absolutely fair and reasonable to direct your irritation, frustration, anger, pain, disappointment to the situations. The blame game is crazy, it fixes nothing but relieves for a while when you point out something as responsible for all your unpleasant experiences. 

I won’t say I don’t care at all for what people think of me, it affects. I care, unwantedly. I want it to stop bothering me and everyone else. But certainly, I have got control over it. It doesn't stand that tall in front of me; it can’t over shadow me now. I give a zero fuck to people who have intentions to bring odd things to me. I want to be mean; I am mean in a way. But when you are mean, you are insecure too and I hate insecurities. To all the irrelevant events I give zero fuck, but are there things that are either way irrelevant? If yes, then what about the quote that goes like: Whatever happens; happens for a reason.

I used to believe; okay I still believe whatever happens is a part of chain of events that completes your play. But to fish for the purpose of such events takes lifetime. Words bite, deep like an arrow in middle of chest. Could healing be derived from hurting others? We all say no, but there are a bunch of people out there who do it anyway. Like it has been their legacy and they have to take it ahead. You blah blah in front me, c’mon save your mouth from moving. You hate me, go ahead I am not gonna explain you why you shouldn't. Signing out.. may God bless y’all.. :)

Saturday, November 29, 2014

Let It Go

“To hold on to things those are supposed to let go is like working against friction. To be content with all you have and all you’ve lost is how we live, letting go is not giving up. To go through agony of a certain loss is like adding up a scar on your body as a symbol that you fought –regardless, you won or lost the battle. To know that you fought is so comforting sometimes that, it turns into healing and you seek comfort being in agony too. You gotta turn the page over when you’re done reading the last line. When you let things go, you release yourself from the weight that is pulling you down. To find good in goodbye is an art, not everyone can do.”

























Made up stories and lies;
all those sad goodbyes,
and the times that you curse now;
like you wanna get over somehow.

Memories and good times;
songs and beautiful rhymes,
lipstick mark on the coffee mug;
muffins that were never enough.

You don’t wanna grow up anymore;
holding a spot that is so sore,
flashback had a beautiful view;
back then you never knew.

Your dreams lost in despair;
have broken heart to repair,
loss that you can’t replace;
you lost direction to the race.
But you gotta let it go now;
I know it hurts though,
and you love someone, who;
loves someone else, not you.
                     
Love is like Russian roulette;
counting on it like every day,
but there is a thing you don’t know;
yeah there’s somebody who loves you.

Horror stories still scare you;
they tease ‘cause you’re not supposed to,
all stupid pictures makes you nostalgic;
you figured out there’s no magic.

Hollow beliefs and rough realities;
you’ve got cold feet and week knees,
it aches the hell out of you;
but you gotta get up and fight back now.

Your dreams lost in despair;
have broken heart to repair,
loss that you can’t replace;
you lost direction to the race.
But you gotta let it go now;
I know it hurts though,
to get the clue;
that some things ain’t for you.

~Shreya

P.S. My creation, please do not copy | Copyright © Protected | Image: Google

P.P.S. Work Of Fiction!

Wednesday, November 26, 2014

Parallel Lines

Parallel lines –no matter how similar they are, never meet. Not even in eternity as they’re not meant to be, they could be tangent to the same circle but they never have common meeting point. They’re connected by a medium called vacuum, but then everything in this universe or any alternate universe is connected through vacuum. They show same characteristics to same experiences, attain same behavior but never change their own angle to intersect. Not everything in this universe is meant to meet; some things are crafted to be distant and are visibly abstract and mutually or enigmatically constant.

Likewise, expectation and reality sometimes run parallel to each other with absolutely no intentions to meet. Why the hell this world is crazy about meeting two parallel things? Reality and expectations have their own values and to bring them to saturation is to achieve a point where no more reality or expectation can be assumed. To have nothing to assume to kill the possibility of expectation and customize reality and it has always been a combination of muse that has lured many. 

It is a trap, to find the intersection point and be lost in illusion. What seems to be intersection usually is a bend, never intended to convert into an intersection. The point of intersection that is considered and treated as a concept of immense pleasure and infinite opportunities sometimes yields nothing and is the end of everything. To deal with continuity is an art, it is a chain and to break the chain is to break the connection from vacuum or to be separated by vacuum, float like an unknown mass with no identity. 

Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Enigmatic Sorrow

“Ever wondered, when everything is perfect like you couldn’t ask for anything else but you’re still lost like longing for something you’re yet to name, yet to explore –that time is now. You’re wrapped with infinite despair, heart wrenching pain that’s devouring you inch by inch. The grand ennui leads you to oblivion; light is absorbed into that oblivion where all your fears reside. Your fears fly back to you on the wings of wind. Darkness, confirms that there was light –once, and you long even more. Reality stabs you even harder and deeper, your spine sends shiver –you’re cold, lost in an empty hallway. Echoes of silence scare you and you want to hide behind the curtains. Sometimes, such enigmatic sorrow is like a nightmare or your last dare to fight back. Your innocence is lost, you are big and all you want is to go back being a kid again.”



















They mould me into a human of clay;
under the layers of dust I lie,
and I envy the Almighty;
to Hell or to Heaven I signify?

Referring to eternity;
am I crafted to praise?
all the wonders I come across;
or to curse missed yesterdays.

Time spent goes to oblivion;
brings me enigmatic sorrow,
do they favor me;
gifting me another tomorrow.

No count of how much I owe;
how much do they bless me,
moulding me into a mortal being;
of unknown eternity.

Do I really belong;
to the universe of dust,
to live once they say;
I should die first.

So how many times I have to die;
and go through such enigmatic sorrow,
to feel immense pleasure;
and owe no eternal woe.

~Shreya 

P.S. My creation, please do not copy | Copyright © Protected | Image: Google

P.P.S. Work Of Oblivion

Sunday, November 9, 2014

Remedy

“Every time you claim you love me and every time I confirm I don’t –equally hurts, to know being so stone hearted that flowers of love can’t bloom out of the concrete I have been trying to break since ages. Sometimes you feel sad for not loving someone in return, that sometime is now. Time, that only matters in this universe. Love, beyond time and such illusions is forever. Time’s nothing, it’s a misleading concept. May be in some alternative universe, where it doesn't matter –I belong to you. Countless theories may prove time as a concept to measure series of events, what a dogma. But, some things are eternal and one of them as you say is the emotions you have for me. I've been your remedy. But, love isn't a syndrome to which someone is cure. Sometimes, love is an imbalanced equation. To have; does that matter? Love is a chain, a continuum and we've been a part of this chain that never broke.”

















Of all the things that ache;
love is the one that aches deep,
gives you darkest scars;
lullabies fail to make you sleep.

To hit exactly where it hurts;
you say is my best art,
I have everything, to say;
what I miss is a heart.

My best is never enough;
trying enough I die,
I've been a remedy you say;
but I doubt, am I?

Is love a disease?
to which I am a cure,
curse missed opportunities;
so sure to be unsure.

I know how it aches;
I've a scar too,
never told you about it;
‘cause it never belonged to you.

Blame it on me;
for all the times you cry ,
I've been a remedy you say;
but I doubt, am I?

~Shreya 

P.S. My creation, please do not copy | Copyright © Protected | Image: Google

P.P.S. Work Of Inspiration!

Tuesday, October 7, 2014

Love, Be Damned

“From talking to swearing to loving, if any part of it was even a little true, there won't be regret and I'd love to be wrong. What if none of it was ever true and I overlooked things as being in misery. Even if an inch of my fear is true, I don't think I'll ever find a way to come out of that shallow dampness that tears will bring for being so blind. I don't want to die like this, decaying every inch every day cursing memory. I want to die warm in bed with a cat around. If you've ever lied to me, just don't let me know about it -ever. If you never lied, make me believe that. Don’t give up on me; I ain’t giving up on you.”


























Thought of you when I was drunk;
no other thing I’d see,
and heaven knows I sorrow most;
when you’re not around me.

Honey, your absence is pain;
like a bruise exposed to fire,
all the sympathies are in vain;
when I have this burning desire.

May the love, be damned;
roses turned pale that blossomed in red,
my world dissolved in sorrow;
and I lament in bed.

When it’s eerie silence;
blue waves hit the shore,
I couldn't recognize my own shadow;
that’s when I long for you even more.

That’s how I will die;
as the particles of dust,
memories will fade away;
and my bones will turn to rust.

May the love, be damned;
lost in your thoughts I die,
with no proof of my existence;
I will resign and say goodbye.

~Shreya 

P.S. My creation, please do not copy | Copyright © Protected | Image: Google

P.P.S. Work Of Fiction!

Friday, September 26, 2014

Mirrors

"Mirrors don't lie, they reflect what they see. They are balanced equation, as they receive to give. But what if mirrors lie, manipulate the outcome and satisfy the master. Lies heal sometimes, assumptions give courage and reflections sometimes perfectly destroy the expectations. We look for what we want to see, and what if mirrors show exactly what we want to see, superimpose the flaws to strengthen the belief that flaws are beauty marks? Could there ever be a magic mirror that could satisfy the profound hunger of narcissism? May be, may be in somebody's eyes."























There's a tornado of scars in my chest;
growing big every inch as time passes by,
by the time agony comes to rest;
it’s gonna be the time for final goodbye.

Time is a misleading thing to measure;
expectations still feel like French wine,
what are we left with to treasure;
when you hear your flaws from grapevine.

With the facts that I knew;
dared to have a look yet refrain,
mirrors heal and hurt too;
with a handful of feelings, so profane.

To find a mirror that satisfies;
ages passed but I still believe,
I shall find in those deep eyes;
that don't know how to grieve.

Magic exists they say;
only if you wish to see,
well I longed for it every day;
un-witnessed, prolonged it could be.

With the facts untrue;
against my wish I'd find,
mirrors heal and hurt too;
if they can't see, they're blind.

~Shreya 

P.S. My creation, please do not copy | Copyright © Protected | Image: Google

P.P.S. Work Of Fiction!

Monday, September 15, 2014

The Un-Edited

Hey.. Peeps.. :) I know, I know I’ve been missing from my blog for long time. Well I wanted some time off thinking. But you know, I still have to figure out how to un-think? That’s my problem, I overthink. They say, if you figure out the problem you can easily find the solution. Well chuck it, that doesn’t fit well everywhere, we have got exceptions everywhere. Mine is a huge exception.

So am happy am going home in October end, will see my sister in Mumbai and go home together. I love Mumbai, beaches specially. I believe beaches have power to make you feel better, no matter what. So, it is gonna be great. I love my job, everything is perfect. Is it? Yes it is. Exceptions are always there as I said, so I don’t count them. Everything is perfect, certainly. If not, it will be –hopefully. Nah, it’s good. 

Hmm.. I am happy today, positive unlimited. Like I wanna encounter a dissatisfied soul and call hey you dearie, come here and hug and say it is gonna be fine bud –whatever it is. Make a stranger smile for no reason and never disclose my identity and remember the episode whenever I feel blues. How ‘bout starting with the next stranger I see, call like hey you the one in say white tee.. blah blah blah.. Does that make sense? Nah, they will run to me and kill me for wasting their time. Well, I won’t regret and consider as bad attempt. Really? Nah.. nope, bad idea. Never, shut up!

See, we are afraid of failure, me you, we all. What did I miss? May be a rare dimension of the situation, like okay that stranger could be with matching wavelengths and we could be friends or may be a good episode I’d ever want to remember and tell my friends, and write about it. Who knows? Yea, who knows I start liking yellow? Did I just say yellow? Nah! Who knows, I wake up a morning and say hell yeah that’s all I want. You can sing Annie’s the Sun will come out tomorrow to keep yourself warm.

Why am I writing today is, I wish to. I wish zillion things and writing has always been in my favor. I love myself when I write, when words flow out and I think. That’s so me. Its 2:00 in morning and the best time of 24 hours. There’s not a single letter that I edited in this post, it’s as raw as my thoughts are right now. Okay, I got a thing to tell y’all. I love reading Christopher Poindexter. He got me, touched the forbidden chords. Reading, damn.. that’s all I want. A book and a bed, am happy. Signing out.. may God bless ya’ll.. :)

Sunday, August 24, 2014

Three Bottles Down

"I like you and am saying this when am three bottles down. I can hardly stand my feet; hardly can see anything other than you going away like in rear mirror view and disappearing into fog. Its 3 a.m. and all I have on my mind is you. Damn! I was high this time, than I ever was. I missed you; I certainly lost being myself but definitely didn’t miss to think about you. Gawd! that’s not good, scares the hell outta me. The more I thought ‘bout you, the more high I became. You’re the strongest of ‘em all and I guess the hangover of you will never pass."




















Bae guess you don’t know;
know won’t believe though,
though it’s hard to tell you;
damn, what am gonna do.

Well, am outta my mind;
you've got me almost blind,
you’re one of a kind;
Gawd, am I gonna left behind?

It’s three in morning and;
‘am three bottles down,
don’t remember anything but you;
and wishing you’re around.
Reading old texts;
scrolling down the photographs,
hangover isn't through;
missing those silly laughs.

Oh it feels like paradise;
damn your smile, your eyes, 
do you ever realize;
you've got me hypnotize. 

You make my demons dance;
angels cry for missed romance,
‘bout the failed plans;
bae, is there a chance.

It’s three in morning and;
‘am three bottles down,
forgot everything not you;
and wishing you’re around.
Reading old texts;
scrolling down the photographs,
hangover isn't through;
missing those silly laughs.

~Shreya 

P.S. My creation, please do not copy | Copyright © Protected | Image: Google

P.P.S. Work Of Fiction!

Friday, August 15, 2014

Not So Good

Don’t you think, some people are too lucky to be loved so much? I am jealous, when somebody is so much loved but never returns it back. It’s a balanced expression right, maybe not. I hate it when people who deserve it run out of it, and who hardly care about it are loved in best possible way. Ironic it is, ain’t it –to offer everything you have to somebody and they treat it like some object and say: nah, I didn't like the color. But, then if it’s not madness and a little pain; it’s not love. Damn!




















Am sleepless and wondering why;
you haven’t replied at all,
are you asleep, leaving me to die;
know, ‘am waiting for your call.
Honey, you won’t understand why;
I wrote this after all,
and to my messages you reply;
hmm.., ok, yea, LOL.

I know she clouds up your mind;
but why did you write on my wall,
how could you be so blind;
that’s not so good at all.

Is she that beautiful to stare;
that you've got no time to say,
or you don’t even care;
of me being into you night and day.
Honey, you won’t understand why;
I don’t talk to you at all,
but I wish you could at least try;
‘cause I hate to see you fall.

Guess you are asleep;
or busy with her on call,
this is my last message that you’d keep;
tryna tell she’s not so good at all. 

~Shreya 

P.S. My creation, please do not copy | Copyright © Protected | Image: Google

P.P.S. Work Of Fiction!