Thoughts to Words

The graceful orb of night, draped in hues of yellow, plants a cosy embrace of love on the raindrops from the abode of God. Messengers of hope, of smiles and more, carrying messages of new beginnings, in a spherical shaped glow. The sound of ripples chanting the verses of life, into the flowing arms of time. Blessed words of the divine brightens up even a tinge of darkness with light: 'From the eve of 2018, you shall be a caring mother to new born days and nights.' ©songbriti

A lightning struck Kapok, as spring marched in, leaves of the oak rustled, orchids bloomed in wilderness, the petrichor was ebbing away, and mulberry twigs dispelling dampness. Kapok was a shield-maiden, rooting for courage, embodying a bark of sturdiness. In rage and covetousness, the gladiatorial fire, annexed the sapwood, searing pain ambushed the heartwood. The dried leaves wailed, outbreaking tears from their burning veins, Kapok was impeded by hollowness, albeit, it was not doomsday. The first ray of sunshine, on the advent of summer, empowered the greenery of the young and valiant- Shield-maiden Kapok. She resurrected, from the womb of Mother Earth, to breathe in freshness. ©songbriti

"Let the universe decide the rest.", he said. Before the twilight could unite with the moon and give it a chance to shine gracefully, I had to be firm about my decision that night. Meanwhile, skepticism crept in and out of my mind's window. I think, if truth be told, I took a month of Sundays to think and rethink about the choice I was going to make as the butterflies in my stomach kept tickling my heart. Here was a man who had earned my trust with the stardust of his loyalty and patience. When a heart offers you pureness which is so powerful it leaves you eternally spellbound. In the lush green meadows surrounded by the mountains which wore their snow-capped crowns with such grandeur, I held his hand to walk the present with him without being worried about what the future had in store. Sirius, looked at us from the sky with a shimmering smile as we brightened the night with a bond which the universe blessed us with. ©songbriti

I have not learnt to move ahead without you, you are the perpetual home to my wandering mind. Even in my insecurities and my worries, you prepare me to seek the happiness I endeavour. The snowflakes of December have seen the warmth you radiate into me. The world is round but I don't know how it might feel like to meet you again because you have been with me from the time I stumbled upon you and explored what being home means. There is an island of a zillion adventures within you. The uniqueness you are endowed with, keeps a wanderer home even when she is diving into journeys. ©songbriti

From endless conversations to awkward silences, we have come a long way. We made ourselves believe that this is it and those forced smiles and formalities now act as radical activists of maturity, suppressing the voice of our hearts. Defying the gravity of good times and what had been so special, I walk on the concrete road, that has become an anchor to the deserted garden of wilted moments. The solitary confinement that I find at night is brimming with fogs of abysses overpowering the faith I had in the strength of our connection. I have so much to say to you, but if I were to make a choice of summing it up to you, I would say "I miss you." It is as simple as that, I miss you because I have travelled miles of treasured times with you. I have laughed out loudly in your company, without being concerned about the world that was asleep. I have shared the tiniest details of my life and the most dreadful nightmares with you. I haven't learnt to fabricate the care I have for y

Those sleepless nights, with the darkness of the new moon spreading its light beneath my eyes, created circles of numbness and flowed down like a pirate on a huge ship to loot the last crumb of peace from my mind. I pulled myself out of bed not because I wanted to, I did it since I had no other option. I was tutored to be an actor who could perform convincing roles in the stage of life. I therefore had to play 'fine' with versatility. The generally expected answer to "How are you?" is mostly "I am fine." The accuracy of lies accumulated behind the smiles while giving that response would bring about an apocalyptic spell on Earth, had we been cursed by Goddess Veritas. "Sshhh, shhhh", I kept requesting them to keep quiet but they would pay no heed to my words. The voices inside my head, tore my heart out and sent it for exile to a place where it had forgotten what it meant to feel worthy. I saw my nights being tethered to emotional breakdowns, w

The perils of loving you, and having cobwebs of bruises even in the far-flung corners of my heart, is inscrutable. The devotion I have for you is unscathed and consistent, even as I lose myself to an earthquake of trembling pain, is inscrutable. The dagger of your infidelity, is where the gravity of my destruction lies, and I love you even though you feed on my soul, is inscrutable. ©songbriti

On days when I contour the surface of my face with a shade brighter than my genuine smile; when I colour my under-eyes with a 24 hour long lasting glow to hide the circles of conflict behind them, I stand like a showstopper in the desert  concealing secrets. The sand under my feet trembles in the coldness which gushes out of the dejected veins of the hollow organ dancing to the beats of a breakdown. In the presence of the sky airbrushed with clouds, I lie to the star-studded night. I have adapted the image of something I had not been, of something I didn't want to be, and something I have inevitably become- an effortless liar. In the charm of the sunrise and the beauty of the breathtaking sunset I look away from my reflection in the horizon of truth. ©songbriti

Cerulean sky, basking in the shimmer of the golden ball, on Friday, beholding a spring full of compassion, cascading down the rocks garbed in green, and burbling prayers into their crestfallen chasms of barrenness. The goals of perennial friendship swept the azureness of the sky's feet, calling the cosmos to honour the beneficent spring. ©songbriti

The last few days have uprooted the tree bearing fruits of ignorance in me. It is a situation where I feel as though I have been receiving wake up calls on how natural disasters define cruelty in a way I cannot even attempt to envisage. The condition Kerela is in now is something we all could have been in. The thought of living for days without proper food, electricity, hygiene and with hope submerged in contaminated water is devastatingly painful. Families losing their homes built with years of love and togetherness are similar to ships breaking apart and giving in to the callousness of the sea. Videos of the flood affected areas in Kerela passes through my heart like a streak of lightning brimming with realisation and the need to stand united as one nation, one world and one system representing humanity. The attribute of unpredictability that natural disasters have, leaves us at the mercy of the Almighty because it is beyond our control. As mortals the least we can do is contribute

Sweat rolls down my forehead like a miniscule distorted bubble making its way through my cheek, and tumbling down the side of my neck. Off late, the sky has been suffering from a serious kidney problem, it is dehydrated and drizzling all the time. I advised it to stay on a strict cloud diet last night before I had a conversation with Grandma. She turned seventy yesterday and twinkled a lot more brightly than all the other stars when I was the first one to wish her "Happy Birthday". The cigarette butts on the road are covered in mud and dirt. The air in my neighbourhood has been passive smoking to channelize its frustration in the form of pollution. A cat needs to cross the road and so do I. We are both in a hurry. I let it go first because I am a huge fan of the way it walks with its head and tail held high and carries itself with utmost dignity. The entire cat clan has a fangirl for life. I am walking on the road, and the city is pushed into a hollow of chaos and heartbrea

In the prosthetic arm of life, Death slit its wrist, with a sharp edged and lucid piece of memory. Abducted by fear, Paralyzed poor tear, in the funeral ceremony. The woodland of self-pity, generously donated a brown coffin. 'Why me?' 'Why only me?' Questions echoed the footsteps of ire, Approaching hastily, to hit the final nail and freeze death. ©songbriti

I have skipped heartbeats, to buck up life, paving a path of hardships, chopping the weeds of naivety. Traces of my blood, found in the pores, of the mud, in Lahore and Amritsar, speaks of the bullet mark, on my right knee. 1947- A year when brotherhood was massacred, drawing a deep line, of animosity. A tattered photograph, of my family in sepia, brings in a deluge, of pacification to my sobbing heart. ©songbriti

I exist, behind a cloud. I exist, within the age old wall safeguarding the cemetery, close to the banyan tree. I exist, in the dead sea wave who had a million lives. I exist, in the lightning of the thunderstorm. I exist, in the first raindrop during summer. I exist, in the mellow tone of the sun rays during winter. I exist, in the boon you are not blessed to experience. I exist, in the curse you are spared from. I exist, far from your sight in the dream which is shrouded with mystery due to a short-lived night. ©songbriti

A part of your lie, A part of your truth, A part of your love, A part of your hatred, Floats around in freedom, Joining hands, As one single entity, The ship of my life, Is lost in your seabed, Parts of you have set me free, And, some wrecked the whole of me. ©songbriti

My soul is devoid of a soul. The last time I checked I did not even have a definite purpose in life. My canvas is not blank, it is an abstract painting. Colours welcoming change and freshly forming hues of diversity which to be brutally honest is confusing. There are dots that are missing, and the connections failing. But what if the missing dots are invisible? Drops of the rain will help the missing dots to take off the cloak of invisibility. When I succeed in finding a soul for my soul, I will then feed it with the fruit of purpose. ©songbriti

Slut, Bloody Whore, Motherfucker, Bitch, Cunt... How often have you utilised these cuss words? From body shaming a woman about her height, weight, complexion to the way she dresses up, the way she talks, eats and walks. You even have this irrepressible habit of commenting on her virginity. I am not going to tell you something along the lines of, "Think about what if someone abused your mother or sister the same way. Would you tolerate it?" You are not in the position to think that way in the first place. If you were, then your behaviour would talk for itself. I am a woman and I also happen to have a degree in psychology. I understand that there is an underlying reason for your behaviour. On that note, I insist you to get some help for yourself. By help, I mean you need therapy to rescue yourself from your present way of thinking and behaving. Go to the therapist, discuss the emotional and intellectual experiences you have had so far. Get some perspective on what frustrates

I am the captor and the captive dissected into two halves but joined together with stitches that a common man's eyes fail to see. A part of me dreams to be set free and the other holds me like a dead tree using all its dry branches and roots to coil itself around me. It hardens its wholesome grip and I am incarcerated for its sustenance. It is as though its sniffing the air inside me to regrow from where it was declared defunct. It oppresses me and is fanatical about winning the challenge of life. If it loses then hell will break loose. Not that it hasn't already but it would technically pulverize my other half and set it ablaze. I am the captor and the captive who gave up one life to save another. ©songbriti

Window railings, in maroon. Evergreen vines climbing on it, in directions seemingly predestined. The sun sank below the horizon, bestrewing the sky with spectacular colors. She came flying with more firmness, in her right wing, wounded by a foe. Perching on the rails, of the window, during the darkness, of the astronomical twilight, tending to the pain, and curing it. On the Equinox of March, the queen arose to fly with strength, and unsurpassed wisdom in her kingdom. ©songbriti

Identities concealed under usernames, insecurities veiled. Strangers in town; busy typing messages. A multitude of emoticons to denote emotions. Questing for assurance, and some sort of comfort. Editing vigorously and filtering the supposed mistakes. Candid clicks, and display pictures. My, my! Naturalness so distinct in virtual avatars. LOL, ROFL and Aww, working wonders! © songbriti

Background Image Credit: HDwallsource.com

Hate disperses into the ether, brain-dead wars thwacking lives, dried blood drinking drops of oblivion, filtering brutality, a reflection of cupidity. Manifesting nirvana, in the face of turmoil. Eath- an anagram to hate. Sardonicism flaunting its acerbic tongue. ©songbriti

A swift landing on the leaf, then uplifting yourself a little higher to rest on the jasmine, wings coloured in yellow and black striped markings. Winter and the winds are full of beans, but the forest is a cosy blanket, sleep without worries, we are an united family, two legged beasts who pretend to have ethics are banned in our human territory. © songbriti

People got replaced, Relationships changed, You have adjusted quite well, You smile and laugh, Party hard, You are doing fine in life, You have got everything you need. Every 'thing'. But you have given up on love and living. You are just fine...nothing much. © songbriti

Nurture your children with love and care, they are the saplings, who are here to stay, they will stand tall and strong, with their roots having their backs, growing up to be the pillars of a better place. © songbriti

Wreath of wrong deeds, honouring the evil. A deep rift, thunder in it, drifting to the right then the left, heavy footed, shredding cries, when clouds fight, worsening the plight of the skies. © songbriti

It is an auspicious day for me today. I am supposed to be celebrating Subho Nobo Borsho (Bengali New Year). This is how my new year begins: "Nine-year-old girl raped in Surat, body found with 86 injuries."- Hindustan Times. A country which feels proud about its culture and values has embraced inhumanity today. Where are we going wrong? The fault lies within us. The root of the problem exists in the way we are brought up. I have given up on the law and the system. I urge all the mothers to teach their children the meaning of humanity before asking them to be toppers in school. Empathy has disappeared from our society. We are an underdeveloped country. A country which cannot protect children, is not developing from any angle. This is not the India our freedom fighters envisioned when they sacrificed their lives for us. While a part of the nation is celebrating some festival or the other, a child/woman is being raped. India, you render me speechless. © songbriti

The power of the pen is believed to be the mightiest of all the weapons. I see people participating in candlelight marches, holding placards which have eye-catching slogans either hand written in bold letters or printed. Voices screaming and protesting against child rape for days. Asifa Banu was born in the land of political corruption. The little girl's innocence was stabbed and this is not the first time a gory incident like this has taken place. Children cannot participate in a #MeToo campaign or they cannot file a case against the criminals. They need a judicial system which can protect them and provide them the justice they rightfully deserve. But laws and amendments in the land of political corruption are made to waste time and resources. Who are we even seeking justice from? From lawmakers who are swindlers. Bravo! How sanguine are we? In a few days time, the media will stop being outrageous about what the pure soul Asifa suffered and it will prepare itself for the next

I gaze at a black Lamborghini at the traffic signal with desire in my eyes from the autorickshaw. "What would it feel like to own one?", I think and start dreaming. Daydreaming in summer can give you headaches if you don't have an enormous bank balance. There is an ultimate economic divide in India between the rich and the poor and to think of the situation pragmatically, it will take more than a hundred years if not less to bridge the gap. In between the gap lies the middle class, the group which gets pasted like the mayonnaise in a sandwich. Where security is the only concern and dreams are kept as doormats. Wipe your feet on them and never look back because let us face it, the money we have is limited. This average life is suffocating, and irritating when living becomes a 9-5 affair with bills acting as Wind Chimes.  Swim with lakhs of others in the same direction. Getting to the shore or not is out of syllabus because all you're swimming for is your security.

When was the last time you wanted those golden days back and if you don't mind me  asking then what did you do about it? The people whom you value, the people who you wish to reunite with, the people who gave you their time and love, need to know what they mean to you. They have all the right to be  cognizant of how much you miss their company.  These lucid moments are an essential part of life. Bottling up feelings has never done any good so far. Being vocal about how you feel has an advantage, you feel healthy and happy. Why do you want to lose the chance of getting back the good old days? Days when your happiness was at another level. Lift the heaps of stones which make life seem complicated. Chuck it out. Illuminate the cruise of friendship with smiles, laughter, hugs, high fives, tears, and reunions. There are no broken dreams there, only a few minor cracks which can be repaired with love and care. ©songbriti

When your faith in relationships begins to falter, Even the most genuine person fails to make it alter, Thrusting deeper and twisting itself into old wounds are tiny but nocuos glasses, Agony bleeding and forming clouds, Sullen sky, tainted by hollowness. ©songbriti

Kaboom... and it's gone! There, see the wheels of your ego just got punctured, the stepeny too got shot with a water gun. Are you thinking about filing an FIR? But no one saw what happened. Did something happen? The roads cannot talk. Hence, nothing happened. Nearly two decades later when you grow younger after using the well-known Botox Lovely Cream, the accused will be dragged occasionally to play Paintball with you. You can avenge the loss of your ego there. Hit him hard with those paintballs and drive away before anyone spots you. If you are interrogated about the incident, then rush to the gym and get your body photoshopped. The Selfies Right Activists love you and no matter what happens they will always be loyal to you. Yet, after all your hard work if you still get caught, then life is just not being human. ©songbriti

The mountains of Kashmir have been inflicted with the echoes of gunshots and bombs since 1947. The snow melts, the sun rises and sets but the valley remains stained with pain, anger, distrust and is being pelted by the barbarism of terrorists and militants for years now. I will not claim that I can understand what it feels like to live in a place where there is political unrest everyday. I have not faced any situation even close to the one happening out there in Kashmir. I did not experience the loss of a loved one due to a bullet. I did not shiver feeling terrified about my safety every minute. How can I then say, "I understand." Ages ago, Emperor Jahangir called this place 'Paradise on Earth'. He was totally right back then. The beauty of the place is impeccable. You could write endless pages describing its charm. But, if he were alive today, he would have been in a fix to find one precise metaphor to describe Kashmir. Kashmir which is struggling to find its iden

The next time some alien with a muffler addresses me as his Mitr (Friend) cause he thinks I am the lucky one with a singular enviable fortune to fall for his words, I will take some Italian Alfredo Pasta and shove it up his mouth. With all due respect to non-violence, I am asking you to keep your "Pro- Let me be your Savior" ideology away from me. You never know when I might feel overexcited and take my brand new slipper (white in colour with a blue strap) to throw it in the same manner as a frisbee towards your face. I have fought battles you cannot imagine in your worst nightmares. I fought it all by myself and then I learnt to give a flying fuck about people. People who are good orators but when it comes to keeping one's word, they run away like a diamond jewellery owner turned thief. They go on a permanent vacation to an exotic island, away from their native home to taste the most expensive wines over there. You can ask Google about the keywords - diamond, jeweller

How do you train yourself to learn backstabbing? Is it a tough course or do you have the aptitude and inborn talent for it? Apparently, loyalty is equivalent to rocket science and not everyone has a high EQ (Emotional Quotient). I completely understand. Those people with a low score in loyalty have my sympathy. But hey, opting for backstabbing as the main theme of life? You know there's something called peace and then there's something called sleep. How can one peacefully sleep after working like a slave for the demons both around them and inside their minds! Seriously, working in double shifts sounds pathetic. It does have an indelible influence on inhumanity but what a stressful job it must be to work with your shackled head. I am an optimistic soul, I believe you can always work hard and bring about a change in your life. For example, you can always change the theme of your life and start with the basic course in loyalty, I am confident that you can do it. I wish you all t

The music played loud, then louder and lastly the loudest it ever could. The train which was at quite a distance a few seconds back came closer and closer, I could see it arriving with speed.  The train passed by and I was sitting on a bench in the station. Railway stations in my country have seen both journeys and endings. They have seen people running for their livelihood to earn some money and they have seen heartbeats being smashed to death only to rest in a morgue for days or even months till their cremation.  Accidental deaths are very unfortunate. It leaves the family members of the deceased heartbroken and shocked. But, their lives do go on. Such is life, accept the loss and keep going. I got up from the bench and walked away to get rid of a child asking me for money. The begging industry is flourishing these days and I did not want to contribute to their success. Yes, I am heartless that way, you can bet on my insensitivity and you will be a millionaire soon. The parallel

Lines who have been half-heartedly written, I am your sinner, a few more minutes with honest feelings, a little attention and effort would mend the gaps wrecking your aesthetic glow. I am your sinner, you had the potential of doing wonders with yourself. I held you back, tied a knot with your wings keeping you within bounds. I am your sinner, deep down I know in my race to get a perfect ending which did touch hearts, I stole your honour. You are true winners and I am a selfish sinner, conscience-stricken and ashamed. I hope you can forgive me. ©songbriti

In a ferryboat beneath the iconic hanging bridge, in the city of joy, her hands shared with the modest river a wish bottle, a message of love it had, etching ripples of romance on nature. ©songbriti

You are my oasis, life without you is parched, I wrap my smiles around your light. The stardust in your eyes, travels miles with me to reach la-la land, our home where I rest peacefully in your arms, thanking the Almighty each night. ©songbriti

Dear Partner, You will step into my life someday and before you do, I want you to read this. Before we take vows of togetherness for life and even beyond death, it will be unfair if I don't be honest with you. I want you to taste the bitterness of my sour mood, my stubbornness, my abrupt silence and read the disappointment in between the lines of my humour and sarcasm. These are my fragments, a part of me which has been there before our stars were meant to meet each other. What is "good" about me, what quality in me do you admire the most, what is it in me that makes you smile is up to you. Loving these fragments of me will be fairly easy. I will feel blessed if you remain in love with the whole of me. Oh, I missed out on something. I suck at Math. Will you help me solve all the complicated equations of life? Love, Songbriti

The miracle of art, Embedded heartbeats in statues, In the rendezvous, Love dawned bright, Sprightly blushing, Humming melodies of devotion, Worshipping passion, Walking past the horizon, Rising with gracefulness, Such is elegance in simplicity, Growing with wisdom, A legacy springs up anew. ©songbriti

What am I but a slave, The leftover essence of you on me. Filling the empty side of my bed, Hoarding false hopes. You are not coming back, I am not letting you go. What am I but a slave, Fooled by my master's mockery. ©songbriti

Dear Women, There can be no life without you. It is a fact and you know it more than anyone else. Facts remain facts even when seasons change and hypocrites die. You don't need a specific day to validate your importance. It isn't 8th March but who cares? Happy Women's Day! Love, A Woman

Right word, right grammar, right literary devices and the right inspiration. En route to  Perfection with a capital P because it is a big deal, I am collecting all the lessons I learnt from my mother's womb to my young adulthood. How delusional am I again? Yearning for the ultimate. Is there a finish line at all? I honestly think that the finish line is a lie. A white lie. There is an open ended question at the end of every stage. Have you crossed the first stage, are you striving to get through the final stage and hug the "Yahooooo moment"? The freedom is yours, write the answer 'As you like it'. The weirdest thing about seeking Perfection is when you come to terms with the risky steps, the twisted ladders and the roads known for their deafening silence. Perfection is an unfulfilled fantasy. The more you want to come close to it and commit yourself to it, the more it drifts away from you. Betterment and Perfection are in a heated debate every millisecond. Th

The cake 'success', Packaged in a subjective mess, Some crave for it impatiently, Rapidly gratifying their desires, Some wait for it for decades, Overcoming hundreds of struggles, A leap of faith they take, Devoting their lives to one cause. My DNA and yours are poles apart, Bake your cake your way, Process it as you like it, Sooner or later, The cake will be ready to eat, Setting an example for the world. Your wrist watch will be proud of time, Basking in your own glory , The scintillating smile on your face will travel miles and miles. ©songbriti

I kind of had him that night. On his knees he was, with folded hands and puppy eyes. Begging for forgiveness. The sound of this man's ego breaking down into dust was euphonious. He was the inhuman sadist who stamped my tears and shot my heart with a storm. People often ask me if I am a man hater. "Lol. You know me so well!", is my fixed reply to such a sensible question. The art of sarcasm and ignorance with the appropriate usage of "lol" saves your precious time. He left me with a "feminazi" tag attached to my name. A lot of ex-boyfriends are excellent in tasks like these. When I look at him, I feel nothing, except that I pity his skull 'cause it is home to such an impotent brain. I have made peace with my past. I have become stronger than he can ever imagine. Have I forgiven him? He has my sympathy, isn't that a sign of forgiveness? Apparently, "I am a man hater". Rumours have an impressive sense of humour. Lol! ©songbriti

Love, relationships and the humungous trunk of commitment which you have to pay for if you fail. One second, did I use the words "humungous" and "trunk" just like that? I should be highlighting it with an imaginary red highlighter pen. I can smell fear vividly. Eww, it stinks and it is sickening. My phobia is tiptoeing and gaining access to my amygdala. This is a serious case of trespassing and has been happening subsequently after my first melodramatic break-up. The attractive butterflies which tickled my stomach when I fell in love; died colourless after we parted ways. Who is going to pay for the damage caused? Me. Yes, I am generous that way. I am right here paying for the ultra smart nature of my hormones. In the first place, I absolutely had no problem in leading a solitary life. I had even planned a solo trip to SuperShe Island in Finland! I did not have to bungee jump into love and experience an adrenaline rush. I invited trouble over for dinner and belly

Poetic lines poisoned, A crime spewed acid on it, Bleeding words groaning, Leading a cursed life, Sediments of fractured memories, Begging time to obliterate their existence, Can time grant them their last wish? May be it can, By being the torchbearer, And, bringing about a historical revolution. ©songbriti

Blankness is the new chaos, Ideas devoured by a black hole. Writer's block? I fear this condition is worse. I am aimless. You can criticise me, I couldn't care less, My life is nearly lifeless. I respect motivational gurus, But pep talks are not much of a help. I am intrinsically drugged with despair, A case which external forces can't repair. If and when I find a sense of purpose, In the drought hit zone of my hope, Blank pages will turn blue, Presenting you with a corpus. ©songbriti

"Are you fine?" I take four steps closer to you and you already know my answer. I hug you and I peel off the stifling layer of "Oh, I am all cool" which obstructs me from being authentic and reckless about portraying who I am. I do not shy away from crying in front of you. The white t-shirt you are wearing is soaked with my tears. A lot of your t-shirts curse me for ruining their day. I have invested the most valuable wealth in you- Trust. I trust you because I know you will not reveal my secrets even when you are in your grave. I have taken ages to trust you. All the colourful bricks i.e. trust, love and respect which makes our relationship unbreakable is kissed by your aura. This is the magic of love and trust. There is not a single problem which cannot be solved by the power of love and trust. ©songbriti

A blood red hue, Casted by a spell, Of influential gravity. The time has come, To glorify the moon. Poets gazing and falling for it, Enamoured of its beauty. Stars suffering from inferiority complex, Though they continue to twinkle, For the cosmic show must go on. Bow down to the diva, All the limelight is hers tonight. ©songbriti

Searching for my identity, I entered a maze, Facing inexorable twists and turns, Lost in the "Who am I?" riddle, Exploring different choices, I pray to find my answer one fine day. ©songbriti

The wide cracks on the gilded walls, Of the bedroom and the hall, Stuffed with beads of laughter and tears, Whimper in despair. Incandescent bulbs throttled by darkness, Shine and get burnt in their own light. Tinted window glasses, Taciturn by nature, Chug on bottles of loneliness, In the absence of any interference. When relationships die a sudden death, Even inanimate objects are in a quandary, About the last rites. ©songbriti

If we are proud to be India's child, Then let us protect her life with love and peace forever, That is the least we can do for Mother India. ©songbriti

Comforting view of the calm sea, A few stars twinkling, The moon smiling enticingly at them. Relaxing on a chaise longue, In search of a muse I wait, With a bait. A muse so powerfully inspiring, Patting the mind perpetually, Using a perfect rhetoric, Seducing it to inscribe words freely. Inhibitions thrown away, Pen spilling ink charmingly, Alluring pages to be a part of immortality, And dedicate their lives to poetry. ©songbriti

My Dear Mind, I sometimes wonder what would happen if I were to really make you my partner in crime and implement all those murders we plan and execute mercilessly in the imaginary world. ©songbriti

Lullabied by tears, I slip into the unconscious world, Seven hours vanish. The night is over, Let us not discuss history, For parts of it will forever be mysteries. The next day, I wake up listening to two words, "Good Morning." Good- the lie Morning- the truth I repeat the words like a parrot, And, get out of my cozy bed. ©songbriti

I am the windstorm, Keep your heart away from me. I have a hobby, I love crushing that emotional organ, And walking over its broken pieces. A word of warning it is, Smart brains take it seriously, The blustering is about to begin, Avert your misery dearie. ©songbriti

I am not the best. I am not the worst. I am floating in mediocrity. Where it is totally okay to be 'okay'. Do I need to work harder? No. Should I relax a little more? Not at all. I am  alright. I am fine. The perks of mediocrity are not that bad you see. Am I making sense? Somewhat atleast? Being the best and the worst, consumes a lot of time, energy and money! I am not guilty and I am not proud. I am only existing in an average life with situations taking their own course. I have no enemies because I am no one's competition. I have no friends because being one another's acquaintance is suitable enough. When I am okay with being okay. Why are you having imaginations about me being supernal or infernal? ©songbriti

Protected by the mighty mountains, Walking around the tea gardens, Winds delivering my happiness, Waterfalls purifying all the energy, The Land of White Orchids, Nature's magic and gift, Kurseong- this place will always be my heaven. ©songbriti

Scars old but never ageing, Giving access to trauma, Trauma slithering into my soul, Rupturing its foundation. Air falling victim to situations, Contaminating particles dying to die, Particles comprising of residues, Residues of events unasked for, Walls of courage demolished. Day pulling the suppressed pain, Catapulting it into the night, Night soaking in the flood of tears, Tears gasping for emancipation. Scars old but never ageing, Feeding on a dead corpse, A dead corpse which people call Life. ©songbriti

To Me, I am disgusted. I am angry. I am frustrated. I am tired. I am at the verge of losing hope. Every time a woman is raped, abused or molested I feel helpless. How hard is it to practice humanity? How hard is it to stop blaming the victim? How hard is it to be a society which beats the devil out of those scoundrels who commit such heinous crimes? These questions have been raised a million times and with time these questions have been silenced by the game of power. Dear Women, I want you to know that you are not alone. There are souls who still believe in justice and in humanity. Who know that you are NOT the one who is to be blamed for the monstrous act committed by those rapists/ abusers/molesters. It could be someone from your family, it could be a stranger, it could be your spouse too. No matter who it is, it is NOT OK and it NEVER WILL BE. Please stand up and fight your battle. Yes I know that is easier said than done but if you let go and do not do anything a milli

I stirred the leftovers of positivity, I had saved it ages ago, In case I would need it, During emergencies. In my own time zone, I prepared a potion, Dipped my personalized sword in it, My pen became the sharpest. I slaughtered all the negativity, There I stood peacefully, Victoriously rather, Without a drop of bloodshed. ©songbriti

Pages, Separated from a notebook, Less stories, More of ideas scribbled. Creative brainstorming, College days and memories, Corner seat and my own world, My freaking life's bank, Made huge profits! Those pages, Living as guests, Safely in my new notebook, Preserving a part of me. Scribbling and being carefree, One...two...three... Neat shots of joy, I used to gulp down every bit of it. A joint venture between two opposites- Fantasy and Reality. These kind of partnerships, Purely disastrous! Don't even think about it! I should've never signed the contract, Reality, you finally got me. O God of Creativity, Save my empire of Fantasy! ©songbriti

Little paws, Playing hide and seek, Fluffy brown tail out, Head hidden under the bed. Anger on his sharp nails, Scratches anyone who is annoying. Lives the life of a boss, Walks stylishly, With head held high. "Meow Meow", Cuteness alert! My furry sibling, His eyes are sparkling, He is here to win your heart! ©songbriti

One blue moon night when his twinkling blue eyes caught my attention, I went stark raving mad about *brilliant blue* since then ! ©songbriti

Hunting me down, Feeding on my flesh. On a solo trip I went, Unprepared for vultures. "The world is not that bad a place." I thought to myself. All my faith went down the drain. Should I wait for justice? Good joke. Forgive your sins? I am not that great. I prefer doing a makeover for you, Chopping off your balls, Teaching you to grow some manhood, Making you a man, Injecting humanity into your veins. Once I am done, You are free to play the victim. And bark, "I want justice." ©songbriti

Smoking the cigarette, Driving in the steep road, Mountains gazing at him, The fog faces an identity crisis. He lights another cigarette, Adding more power to the smog, His health and our environment, Sniff in some good amount of hell. In the vicinity of his lungs, His heart then waged a war, Shackled his wrongdoings, Dumped packets of pseudo-liberation. The fog found its identity, Mountains narrated the history, Retaining the lost sceptre, His heart beat for justice and liberty. ©songbriti

"I love you." She expressed confidently. I rewinded my memories... Confusion all over my cells, Weren't my eyes loud enough? My bad! Love is not blind. Your heart is! *Slow claps* for you, Close all the doors and leave. Wear your brain, Skate away with your heart. Hello Eyes! Kindly stop watering. ©songbriti

Trust was torn to shreds, Floods of betrayal hit the heart, Love could barely be traced. Couple of days later, A reliever came forward to help, Hoping to find the lost love. Weary heart, Victim of prolonged cruelty, Hugged death that night. ©songbriti

There are times when I might walk away without giving an explanation, May be because the answer I am seeking is hidden in you. No one else will ever be able to locate me, Owing to the fact that the only person having a clue about my hideout is you. ©songbriti

When she has a share of your mother's love, When she slaps you right in the face for your misbehavior, When you both kick asses together, When eye contact is a crucial part of your communication, When you are each other's first priority, no matter which Prince Charming you are dating... Yes, I am coming to the point now, Best friends are forever, so thinking about letting them go for your petty ego is not even in the picture! ©songbriti

My past is flawed, My present is suffering. Your future has to be a bright one, Move away from my shadow, Blocking the light from your life, My peace lies in your well-being, I live only for you smile. ©songbriti

Raise a toast to your life! While you are welcoming this New Year with a smile today, keep the power of resilience ready for the upcoming twists in the game! Happy 2018! God Bless! Love and Regards, Songbriti