When the medicines don't work, a little love does. When the chocolate cant cheer you up, a warm hug does. Dad's teasing ruffle of your hair, matter more than that crocodile print Gucci. Walking barefoot on grass, with the tender stalks shyly curling up your toes feels indescribably pleasant. One new notification on facebook. Couriers. Coffee steaming up your glasses.

Its always the small things in life that matter and count :)

Friday, 13 January 2012

How do you put a 'title' to your thoughts ?


As you grow up, the dictionary reassembles itself for you.
Certain words place snuggle in the first page, some trudge dejected to the last.

The dictionary almost has a passionate extra marital affair with the real world- each word entwined with an experience, each softly spelled syllable wrapped serpentine around a harsh, jarring image of life. Red is no longer the color of santa's hat or a sliver of the spectrum; but the color of spilled blood. Love is no longer a childish heart-shaped doodle but a terrifying roller-coaster ride of unfathomable emotions. Hate ceases being just an emotion- it is dead bodies, ripping pistol shots and warring countries. Venus isn't a planet but aphrodisiac beauty. It is no longer a dictionary but a thesaurus. Flooded. Over pouring. Burgeoning. With synonyms.

Sefish, my friends.. is not only your unwillingness to share. Selfish, in this constantly confusing world, is also the need to share too much.
Ever wondered what happens to your parents when you cry? When your eyes become a lagoon of tears? Ever wondered what goes through them, what stabs their heart? Your tears will dry- your adorable best friend will crack a joke about that funny boy who lives next door and you will soon be rolling in the delightful tickle of laughter. Ever wondered what happens your parents?

When you keep quiet-morose and mawkish; not eating only sleeping and curt words gathering wings here and there.. Have you thought about what goes through your parents ? All you have done is arranged for them a disturbing, pictorial sketch of your unhappiness.. Something that lacerates them. They don't know what to do, how to help.. They are torn, tossed into their turgid whirlpool of thoughts... Their precious child in agony and they are nothing but helpless.

Definitions are no longer stagnant- with each forward-going tick, there is a change.

Lost can either be 'clueless' or an 'adventure'. You can chose to sob out an SOS from the middle of the scary forest chuckling with wildness or you can dress your face in a goofy grin and set foot on your very own adventure. Your call. :)
XXXXXX.

P.S- Its a confusing piece, I know!

1 comment:

  1. Everytime I read one of your posts,u leave me speechless..and just when i think, it can't get any better...every new post surpasses your own super-standards.
    Your words are so intense and vivid!
    Keep writing more :)

    ReplyDelete