Tell Me No More of Enchanted Days

  All things go, Everything must pass. It looks the same, but it isn't. All things change, Everything must last. Tell me what you want, And I will tell you how to find it. Tell me what you fear, And I will tell you to go embrace it. Go pounce on your worst nightmare, And like a cat, bite it's unruly neck. Then shake it with your teeth, Till you are sure it's dead. Then go find that hidden dream, The one that keeps you up at five a.m., You talk to it and say, 'No, it can't happen, You see, some things aren't meant to be.' And you lull yourself back to sleep, Knowing when you wake up, You will think it wasn't real. But you are foolish to think It will all go away; it won't Till it sees you trying to find a way. That disdain you feel for life, That's change attempting to get in. It can come as a drizzle or a gust, In any case, it will find its way in. We are not the same people  We were an year ago. We change,  We fight and accept, we grow. The old

  I rushed to pick up the phone when it rang. When he called, it always sounded different. A trrriiing trrrring ta da trrriing trrrring rather than a tring tring. "Hi jaan," I smiled while talking. "Hi baby. You knew it was me again?" "I always know it's you. I hear your voice in my head, saying, I'm thinking of you, I'm missing you." "I hear your voice too. All the time. Like I felt a pain in my little toe and I knew it was you." "Yeah, I stubbed my toe five minutes ago. We are like twins." "No, soulmates." "Yes, soulmates." "Achcha listen, go to uncle's house. I've sent a parcel for you." "Okay, I will go in the evening. He's not there at this time." "He's there. Go now. It's urgent. I have sent something special for you." "Why do you keep wasting money? You know we both are jobless right now. And I have only 800 rupees left in my account, thanks to

 A bruise is like a tattoo. One fades, and fools you into thinking it's healed. One heals, and fools you into thinking it's faded.

  If you feel like you have to let go, Why does it still feel so heavy? If you close your eyes to shut it out, Why do they still see clearly in the dark? And the fall from grace that you escaped, Is it possible it stopped your wings from sprouting? And the decisions that you think you take, Maybe they aren't yours at all. And the hands that you cup to your face, Comforting your shattered dreams to sleep, For all you know, those aren't your hands at all. The rusted broken cross on your back,  That hurts your spine, it was never yours to carry. The colour of your walls, they are the same colour as mine. The clothes we wear, the smiles we fake, The stories we tell are like everyone else's.  And time passes, but time stands still. Where do we begin and where do we end? Is it us or is it really them? I am you and you are me. We aren't separate at all. So step out of the shadows behind the wall, Because I can spot your tired silhouette I have foreseen your looking away. We th

I was watching Parfum, a German psychological murder TV series on Netflix when the husband walked in from his call. He has seen me watching the weirdest stuff on TV from serial killer documentaries to thrillers to dark fantasies, filled with orgies. One day, he saw me watching a stand up comedy and was actually shocked to see me laughing. I do laugh, secretly, a lot. So, Parfum the TV series is based on the book Perfume - The Story of a Murderer, but doesn't have the same story at all. The book, which I've just ordered to read was hugely popular and was made into a film, which I have watched before. In the series, there are killings and tissue from the scent glands (hair, underarms and genitals) is extracted from the victims to make a powerful love perfume. Even I had to toughen my stomach to watch it. When my husband walked into the room, he saw the scene where two teenagers are killing another to extract his glands. "Why do you watch this gory stuff? What happens if some

  I have found the light, After years in the dark, Where I howled and prayed, I lay asleep, but now I'm awake. I don't need your acknowledgement, I don't need to play nice. I don't need you to look at me. You see, I have found the light. If you do look, try not to turn away. I want to be humble, but I'm tired Of playing that silly game. I'm the peacock with coloured feathers, I am God's chosen one, always protected. I am Gandalf the White, who found the light. I won't shrink myself to make you look bigger. I won't say sweet words so you feel superior. I was and always will be better than you. You want to know why I am the one you fear? Here's the secret and the answer. It's because I am open and you are closed. It's because I am wrong and you always right. I stumbled on dark roads, saw the distant light. Here is my sword and here is my heart. I don't fight, I don't love, I don't resist. I am all and nothing, infinity and zero.

  "So, how do you stick to your assumptions so strongly? I mean, how is it that you think you know everything?" "Well, if you really want to know, it started long back, in the 11th grade. A classmate of mine confided in me that she dreamt of kissing a guy she had a crush on.  I kept badgering her to reveal who it was but she refused. You could never guess she said. He's not even in our class. I said okay. Then I had a dream of her looking out of her window at another building. It was this guy from Electronics, who was looking at her from his window. See, this guy was never in our vicinity. We were Electrical Maintenance, lowly in grades and stature from the Tronics and Computer toppers. The next day, I told her, I know who your crush is. It's Avinash. She was shocked. Who told you? How do you know? I never revealed. Till this day, when she messages to wish me on my birthday, she addresses me as dayaan. " Geez, that's a random coincidence man! So you thin