This tiny bit of my life
It is about owning that tiny piece of the sky, that tiny patch of the grass,
And that beautiful sunset, across that tiny pond,
a whole lot of her
And she approved the only criterion in our home,
Try becoming a better human, please,
Money and everything else will come and go,
But don’t leave the goodness,
among one of those friends
I sat there, the entire day, with the banana bread breakfast we had just made,
My roommate just stopped me and said,
Here, let me make chai for you, and we talked about something, I don’t know what,
But I had to go meet a friend, and say few goodbyes,
But I could not yet, I wanted to stay there, stay there around with her,
With the doggo occasionally moving a bit, my roommate’s daughter visiting us to share a souvenir,
I think we did not do much, just calmly sitting around there,
Looking at the grass being, the fresh smell, the sun, kinder today,
tiniest things about people
I don’t remember the exact conversations though,
but I remember how it felt when we went to the shore to collect sea shells and bought a book,
and had an ice cream at the old shop, how that lady curled the ribbon just for me,
a ton of nostalgia
I just stumbled upon a thought, sometime during the day,
it was amazing because all those relationships,
all those bonds, we formed, living together,
with all these friends, I have now, I had then,
was for no reason, everyone was equal,
their standing being represented because of what they had done,
I know such a utopian world, my existence,
our co-existence, and our bonds,
were dependent on each other, not where we came from,
a good place to be
And it felt in all possibility, why would you, how you could just choose,
To stay there, be there, and give up, the rest of it,
is beauty, a journey in pain,
Moments of darkness, with each frame filled with reflections,
Of your own self, and there is something beautiful,
another kind of love
Not so much appreciated,
One which hugged the broken you,
Even when the pieces hurt their soul,
The love which has stayed,
And she smiled
I told her to be there,
Not do too much work, you know,
Chill a bit, have an evening with friends,
The tea sessions, but she was like,
never told you
By the way, tenks, no, not misspelling it, It is our right, somewhere between lost pieces, and gained bits of one another,
On days
Will take a pause and breath, and have a walk around the mountains,
Maybe climb up, sit there, and have our usual tea,
On days, It would be calm, dark, winter days, with too many worries fading in and out,
We would sit there in the garden, picking up the mint leaves,
Ensuring we help each other through all the tears shed,
the old niwar bed
And we had so many stories to share,
The new friend we made, the homework not done,
By the river edge
The air seemed to fly along with you, travelling along the waves, around in this cold yet warm, winds, water, and some slippery rocks, reflecting the sunshine.
about home is,
They have already accepted you,
And now momentary consequences
Won’t change this love,
That is what I love about home,
the kind of people you surround yourself with
It is almost like every second spent with these people you don’t regret it,
Being happy is just easier,
just when you stop worrying about being with the conventional model of society,
It is just straightforward when you have a set of people you love,
to find your roots,
Any storm,
You will have your support,
Your ground, to hold on to,
And hold you together through it all,
कुल्फी
और बस खुल गया,
पिटारा,
मम्मी दादी की कहानियों का,
पांच पैसे में मिल जाने वाली उनकी कुल्फी,
कभी बस फाल्डो से निकली तुलडी को दे आते,
और ले आते कुल्फी,
So many books around happiness,
I have been reading and attending different sessions about why people are happier, and one general piece of advice is learning to be grateful! Here is a poem about how we can find hope during days when we feel not resilient enough, count the blessing, look upon the positive side. And you would end up preserving those instances which otherwise would have been lost in ignorance.
love for you to take a break
Sometimes, you cannot be there for people, and it should be acceptable, at least by you, yourself!
to be grateful for
I once stumbled upon a thought about collecting random acts of people being good, and I had a never-ending list of acts of goodness, so much love and care are in the world. Are we ready to see, live and accept it is the question?
the vast blue sky
Thought about how every time, everywhere you would go, something would stay just the same!
There are some people,
Through some of the bad days, positive vibes and kind words just seek you out realising you might be in need of them, a suggestion would be - to hold on to them!
beautiful interdependent ecosystem,
People you live with, and small moments scattered around them, craft a beautiful bond, sustaining you and strengthening you.
And those cold houses, starting to warm up,
Festivals are inspiring, motivating and rejuvenating! And the best time to relax, sit back and think! Also, here is a poem about Christmas! Happy holidays :)!
the love is still there,
:) Another in the series of a story of love about how it changes after the usual start with ‘and they lived happily forever’!
As they grow old each day,
Old love is the most beautiful thing and it just never ceases to amaze you, these people and their forever kind of beautiful love :)
books have this fragrance
Books have their own aura, like something or someone of your own to keep you grounded across the chaos! This poem here describes two opposing scenarios and a binding thread.
Kindness has these strange infectious ways,
This poem sort of shows the gratitude we will feel when being helped and the latter part of it explains what might be inspiring an individual to continue to give back. Kindness is a pretty beautiful thing and always great to notice these awesome people around us and maybe try becoming some of them!
Crying till you fall asleep
Poetry convolutes lives and mostly helps find a way out of it all. What if we want to change something, in us, in people, in our lives but what if the strength to change it all is gone, who could help in such a scenario. However, the thing is - we can only do that for us! No one else can, because we know the limits and we only know our capabilities to manifest whatever we want us to be :)!! Even if someone else could do that for us, the greatness we hold in ourselves could never be tapped by someone else.
I believe in all kinds of fairy tales
This is my take on fairy tales. I believe we have been neglecting all together the struggles, the journeys these protagonists live through and may be missing the whole point and then retelling these stories without understanding what they actually might be saying!
Fairy Tales are quite ordinary tales of people who chose to work hard to achieve whatever they wanted their lives to be :)!!
Some phrases, some habits, kept aside, far ahead
We acquire so many things from people we meet, sometimes so many phrases stay in our vocabulary even when we lose touch with these people or places! This is just a thread to express that transition or journey maybe!
There was a smile on my face
This poem is a positive reaffirmation for being grateful - because remember you are still all alive :)!!
I found it today and it made me smile, hope it does the same for you !
In warm sunshine, with vast blue skies
I used to believe some time back and there are certain moments in our life, which make us fall in love with them. It is generally not humans, but those instances which remind us of everything good in the world and make us fall in love with humans associated with these moments!
If it stays, the rain
This is another poem elaborating upon why rains have been a whole lot of beautiful part of home always :)!!
Making you stay, through it all
Something positive to end the day with :)
It is based on this thought of walking away from everything and continuing walking away. However, sometimes these transitory cluttered frames indicate a shift in the right direction and instead of walking away, maybe for a change, we could try to be impartial and identify the real value with everything we have, and then maybe still stay wherever we are, just be a little more happy!
Remember, Milkha
And I regret not writing this, taking the time to notice and maybe have a conversation with him some time when Milkha Singh was still alive. Although I had this feeling of reading through his autobiography once to maybe remember him for the last time. The remembrance written here is inspired by his book “The Race of My Life”, and I am writing this as a reminder to know, meet these people around, take time to notice, to read about them, get inspirations, and just learn from them. And of course, to keep the lines I read in the biography always there to just refer and find all the motivation needed.
be your awesome self please
I believe we all are quite better human beings than we give ourselves credit for. This poem initially was supposed to be written about nostalgia - about how we have not been doing all the awesome things we could do, just some time ago, and how we won’t have any more interesting stories to tell. But then a conversation with a friend made me realise that awesomeness and the stories will always be there as long as we continue to keep that observation of ours alive, to find places, people, things, to relate with, to find a connection with, to find the usual ideal goodness in it all :)!!
अच्छाई होती तो है ही कहीं,
जब मैं एक बार घर से काफी दूर थी और लैब में आस-पास बस लैपटॉप रहता | समय भी अलग था, जब एक तरफ रात होती थी, दूसरी जगह सुबह होने वाली होती थी | तो मैंने और मम्मी ने रोज़ का नियम बनाया था, हर शाम खत लिखने का | ईमेल से ही भेजते थे पर कम से कम तस्सली से बात तो होती थी |
उन्ही खतों को देख लगा बस कुछ साल पहले ही तो इतनी सकारात्मक सी थी, इतना सारा प्यार और आभारी हर एक चीज़ के लिए | शायद इसी विश्वास की ही तो जरुरत थी, खूबसूरत सी इस दुनिया को जानने, समझने और बिना डरे बस समझने की |
Relative to your existences, might be infinite references,
The poem here is inspired by a thought that explores how it might be possible for us all to find perfect pieces of ourselves spread across different times all over different time dimensions across the universe in different forms.
A lot of inspiration came after watching this 2001 movie ‘Kate & Leopold’ and it felt to be one of the most comfortable of the love stories, mostly sort of a comfortable feel-good story, a little bit too idealistic, but interesting. They had explored this idea of two people falling in love across two different time spans over a course of a century.
I knew, would stay alive for a long time
Category - Poetry, Mood - Thoughtful, maybe hopeful
With everything going in plenty of random ways, and increased entropy value in our lives, I just had this stupid thought, and in a way I tried to enlist this feeling, feeling of never again taking life for granted. And at least when happiness is presented to you, be welcoming and a little more accepting about it.
Keeping me, still their kiddo eldest sister!
I have met some of the best people in my life or as I call them - good people. This is one story of a few such people, who have been loving and caring since we were kids - my brothers. I know they all are just best :) and of course they got no choice in choosing me as their sister, so have to deal with me anyways!
I think anyone who has ever known me would relate to the too much effort part!
One of the new acquaintances
Category: Poetry; Mood - Grateful
Remember one of those days, when you go up to someone and say, today a really good thing happened with me, this is one of those stories, which I wrote here to recollect and preserve, one such moment, to be tapped into some time uncertain!!
Love is just like that, right?
I know too much ideally positive description, but it should be at least somewhere! Also, I have known a few of these ideal stories to still believe in all of this!
Category - Poetry, Mood - Happy, thoughtful, optimistic
Winters, lights, darkness and cold,
Category - Poetry, Mood - nostalgia; it is getting colder, and every wave of cold wind resurfaces a whole lot of memories. This is about that feeling of winters!
Also in the poem - Sigdi = one type of clay stove.
