C'est La Vie?

Love, Poetry or Wine?

The choice is always simple,
Love, Poetry or Wine?
The one that makes you high
To back your back
To hold you tight.
For you must get
The blissful waves
Through your lover's touch, the magical verse or the dancing of the vine.


But somehow if you wake up,
In the solitude of your room
Wanting to cry or thinking twice,
Remember that your choice was wrong
And accepting it is fine.
For you shall get to choose again
From the ever so simple list.
Love, Poetry or Wine?

-Abhishikta

So How Does It Feel To Get Rid Of Me? :)

Because I am silly. Pwomish!

To someone I Love. To someone who was a companion, a lover, a friend, a guardian angel, a teller of stories, a writer of deep thoughts, a partner who did not share my taste for food, music, movies and dirt but was a partner nonetheless.

To someone who made me a much better person than I could have been otherwise.  

Thank you for putting up. Maybe not.

*blinks*       

           

Cliched Dreams.

Cliches, people have been looking down upon it ever since they wanted to be "different" for the sake of it. The major idea behind the existence or non existence of man is, or at least was(till everyone became Hollywood Superheroes) supposed to be based on the set of dreams one weaves. Dream, the horrible insanity that I call it these days.

Jealousy is a virtue they say, and so is love. Overlapping and folding of these two rule me these days. Jaa k bole mile mishe ekakaar. The submissive binoyi bitch that one heartbreak can turn you into. You gather around sympathy, happily. Yes happily. Anyone who claims to not like the sympathy after continuous exposure of the sadness and put on bechariness is a big fat liar. I know this from first hand experience. There is this one life that is filled with strange unknown words or keywords that the 4 years of elitest CSEhood could not impose on you and there is another life where you have friends and close friends walking towards the scarlet sky on double ticket. Desperate I sound? I might and I do not care.

The the long forgotten topic. Dreams. Would you be ashamed of your dream when they start calling it cliche? You know what is the worst thing that can be? When your dream gorurgaaris require two drivers, one is you and the other (one and only *_*) driver probably wants to drive a single person batmobile instead. Hence your gorurgaari would not run.  Ah life! Now you can happily(?) give away on the only dream you had, be happy for and jealous of everyone. EVERYONE.

You, dear reader. Go ahead and hate me for my excessive compulsive drama while I hope they never turn your dreams into toonibulb cliches which you would never be able to own. Blessings to you. Cheers.

The mornings after a rainy night becomes double beautiful when you have a long ride in a bus that is almost empty. You get to feel the wind on your recently shampoo-ed and uncombed hair with all the rain songs playing over and again. You can also look up half sleepy to this bike riding beside. When the signal comes, you will find that the same girl on the bike bringing out an umbrella quickly to temporarily save her man, you will also find the boy caressing her woman’s plastered leg before the signal turns green. Then you can sigh as the bus starts and the wind fills in.

All you who sleep tonight
Far from the ones you love,
No hand to left or right
And emptiness above -

Know that you aren't alone
The whole world shares your tears,
Some for two nights or one,
And some for all their years. 

-Vikram Seth

Okay?