That girl in the train.

As that city full of lights began to fade away with the hooting train moving in the other direction, she became a little clueless for a couple of minutes, actually seconds.

Tick tock, tick tock..

She couldn’t hear a word around her, just her head telling her to jump out. Better sense had but always prevailed and today was no exception. Tears in her eyes, she decided to yet again, STAY!!

Why? Oh, that question had always baffled her!! This wasn’t a first, neither a second, the truth being, she’d lost count, not because remembering the numbers was painful, but because not keeping a count was convenient. This twist of convenience and pain, churned together to make sense, was called LIFE!!!

Co-incidentally, I was myself travelling in that same train that night, and I had the opportunity to talk to her for some time. She tried to smile, and I was ready to hear her story.

I heard it all, and am not narrating any of it here, for sheer confidentiality reasons!! But from what I could gather, life wasn’t being unfair to her. She was just being given a chance to be fair to her life.

She was a jolly girl, full of life, content in the inside, but a little restless on the out. She’d put herself out there in the world, to experiment and experience variety. She was, unknown to her own self, also looking for love, an ear, a breeze of happiness, and a secret state of umm, a strong bond. She was a perfect example of a confused girl in a big city, actually really knowing just what her heart wanted, but never being able to spell it out in as many words and expressions. She awaited her future with bated breath, as that was what she looked up to.

I did not ask her name as I wanted to impartially analyse her state in life, and remember her as a ‘city girl’ I’d bumped into and looked through. I wished her a happy life and went my way.

I’m sure she thought I was judging her, but did that matter? I’m sure she did not care enough, or may be she cared beyond care, and that is where I mis-judged!! Either way, it all and always boils down to confused people, going somewhere everyday, not sure of what they’re up to, and yet, calling themselves settled in life, looking for love, not realising that are, missing their loved ones, and bumping into people who judge them.

Until I meet another one I can write about,

– Stuti

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Questions.

A garden full of swings,
Some, high, some low, some only bling,
Yet all give joy to the child,
Who taught him to like this? Who taught him?

A shake full of strawberries, very pink.
A shake full of chocolate, very brown.
Who taught it to be dark?
Who taught it to be pink?

The boy with the brown hat,
The girl with the red sash,
Who taught them to be proud so much?
To ignore the smalls?

So many questions, no answers at all.
Answers all obvious, staring at us tall.
Yet questions we ask, yet answers we want,
I refuse to say anything, I choose to stay MUM.

-Stuti

The girl distressed.

She didn’t mean to cry,
But she did.
Each tear, symbolic.

Her emotion soaked tears,
Spake stories of bravery.
Bravery, unprecedented.

She was a mess of confusion,
Her tears fell in a landscape for dilution,
And for reasons beyond understanding.

She wore heavy makeup,
She was dressed uptight,
Only in an effort to hide her plight.

She failed miserably,
For her eyes deflected pain nonetheless.
An effort to hide wasted, the girl distressed.

So all went well, in fact without a crease.
Yet every time wind blew,
Her mind lost its PEACE!!

-Stuti

Ideas.

A speak of blue,
A silver speck,
A yellow blob,
A red freckle.

A mind in a maze,
The girl amazed,
Today a surprise,
Tomorrow a puzzle.

She walked towards it,
Or on its own it neared.
The problem cornered her,
Considering her dear.

Ideas million in her mind,
She always thought about them.
No time to do them any,
Time only a lame defense!!

One day all ideas disappeared,
And only a pool of abstract remained.
That day the ideas all ditched her,
No ideas now, NO PAIN?

-Stuti

An Adieu not easy..

Starting today I also try my hand at writing short stories, which used to my passion once too. Look forward to my readers’ support and feedback.

That early winter morning, the wind was very strong. She climbed down the stairs with a heavy heart, the cold brutal wind hitting her cheeks as if like a hurricane. But she didn’t and couldn’t have realised the cold of the wind, or as I would call it, the slap of the wind. Her mind was preoccupied with something else, her soul was crying and her heart overwhelmed with feelings sad. As she picked up her bag and started leaving the room, she tried very hard not to remember the happy times spent there, the old pink walls that were painted pale green now, the fights that were wrestled there, the gossips that were spun there. She tried to push away those exact memories of the lessons of life she had learnt there, she tried not to hear her own laughter ringing in her ears.

She started to take out the wind chime on the main door, but then decided to leave it there, as if attempting not to take absolutely all memories with her. She stood at the door, the bag getting heavier each minute, breaking her hand with the weight, but did not feel it even then, the pain of emotions crushing her body even more.

She wiped her tears as she walked, never once vowing to forget her past, and promising herself to make it give her strength. This girl was leaving the place where she had spent a good four years of her life, never once believing that she will leave all so suddenly. She hugged her friends bye, put her bag in the car waiting outside, and turned back to look at the building one last time- the reel of her life played a song, all happy as well as sad images swilling around her, her tears gave her peace and so this time she didn’t wipe them and let them flow. Then as if giving in, she turned around, and sat in the car, closed her eyes and left.

The walls of the house may not speak about her to anybody, but will always remember her stories, the wind chime will always ring and continue to spread the joy she desired, and her story will not ever end just here.

(I dedicate today’s post to a very dear friend, who made me comfortable where I am today, was a patient listener and an active speaker for me, to some extent, a reflection of my thoughts, a supporter and regular reader of my posts at the blog here and above all, a true friend. I’ll miss you here but I wish you luck in wherever your future takes you, for the road is long, and you’ll definitely find the best way around… <3)

– Stuti

How the bird saw it..

That bird, it chose a window,
A window of the room of a girl,
The bird, she saw pain in her eyes,
The girl but otherwise looked normal.

The girl, she spent her exp laughing all day,
And nights she cried profusely.
The bird was confused thoroughly,
She did not understand the joy or the tragedy.

The girl was a pretty lass,
Enjoying her life until,
She met him, saw him there,
And became friends and then lost her will.

The girl, she sang beautifully,
Wonderfully she worked out.
But depressed inside she was,
And no one about it she told.

The bird, it wished,
It could spread some joy in her life.
The girl unaware,
Still laughed all day and cried at night.

She failed to understand
That all she wanted was not available for all,
But then she did see it with all the others,
And the bird also thought her void was unjustified after all.

So the next day onwards,
The bird also lost her chirp,
And started to quack instead?!
This,  the girl, she noticed, and at it she stared.

Just an eye contact between the two,
And nothing else between them.
Some magic just happened,
Now both of their problems came to an end.

Now the girl used to be happy all day,
And she smiled at night too.
The bird. Now wondered how this happened,
And how its wishes came true.

In a secret conversation with God,
The bird then tried to understand it all.
Turns out, God actually had intervened,
And snatched the girl of her emotions,
For there was no other way,
To treat such people, who had fallen in love and stopped to FUNCTION.

-Stuti

Dots connected…

A memory, a fairy tale
A thought process, a wish.
A hope, a despair,
The ecstasy, a bliss.

A girl, so pretty,
A feeling, so deep.
An idea, a nitty gritty,
Two tickets, one empty seat.

A prayer, so silent,
Yet wishes, each true.
The plight, so painful,
Each soul, paying his dues.

A friend, a listener,
His patience, a virtue.
Advice, so simple
And rules, bind you.

These words, little random,
But intention, rightly aligned.
Trust me, all dots connected,
One’ll get a story very very FINE.

-Stuti

The conversation with a stranger

As memories of what has gone filled her heart and mind,
She yearned for memories more.
Her day & nights filled with hope,
She targeted even more.

Her eyes now twinkled with secret admiration,
Her hands even trembled at some thoughts,
Her peace gone, her faith shattered,
She as if made a plot.

She talked to me about her fears,
About her restlessness she discussed.
She wanted me to advise her littles,
Her nothings also she confessed.

On and on it went
Until my eyes were filled with tears
And then I got up and quietly left
With me I took my ears.

She stared at my back as she saw me walking away,
Suddenly hurt for no reason.
Depressed, denounced,
As if a victim of treason!!

She forgot her pain, for now she had a new one,
She thought about me walking away.
I couldn’t blame her for judging me,
But she did not even realise I didn’t even know her.

The girl, my friend, was a reflection of someone I knew,
And that day she made me meet her again,
The girl, my friend, was a big big mess,
And these milestones in her life, she had too many times already ATTAINED.

-Stuti