Happiness ?

She looks outside,
And the rainy smell of soil makes her happy.
She walks outside,
And the little girls doing their waltz make her smile.

She seeks to write a prose on ‘happiness’,
Or the ingredients nonetheless?
Albeit the knowledge her heart already carries,
And the constituents her mind already knows.

Her thoughts wander to words and idioms all across,
And her ideas want to be the most innovative with words.
So she probes a little more into definitions, and the art of writing,
Though already knowing what to know.

She writes, and rubbishes drafts each passing day,
And yet captures what she finally concludes-
‘Happiness’ is a virtue sans a universal definition,
It is simply that something, that makes one smile despite the varying tones and OVERTONES OF THE RESPECTIVE 🙂

– Stuti

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A day in history.

That day in history,
When all that was around was shaken,
And all that was not around, seemed shook up too.

That day in history,
When she was a part of the day,
But she herself knew that she wasn’t there and then.

That day in history,
When the clock didn’t show any time,
Because, someone had reported the hands of time stolen!

That day in history,
When somehow it became clear that,
Only the present will be the future now, and that is pretty too.

That blessed day in history, when love lost a battle fighting love, but it was love that won too,
Where someplace else, love found true love and never called it a war,
Re-affirming the triumph of unwritten yet pre- decided,
Whims of destiny, which KNOWS IT ALL!

– Stuti

 

Blue.

Blue,  the colour of fantasy,
Albeit a pink for some.
Blue, the water, crystal clear,
Albeit the not-so-blue one.

The sky a blue, or bluish black maybe,
It’s all out there, and wide, so wide.
And blue is that patch of glue,
She accidentally but happily, spurted  on the aisle 😉

He likes the blue, and she likes it for him,
He wants his walls blue, and so she blue- tints all the glass around them.
She but hates the other blues, and so he handles them for her,
His happy blues, her not-so-happy ones.

Blue is a colour, not once does he think beyond that,
She but works all around it, though not many times deliberating at that!
And so they knit their story blue- his colour, her situation,
A common thread in the love, a reason for no reason, and yet reasons UNSPOKEN.

– Stuti

The surreal.

Then one day,
In a dim star- lit sky.
It dawned on her that it was all silver around,
And her eyes lit up at the brilliance.

So grand was the light,
That her eyes seemed loud and all white,
And the silver seemed a little bland,
But all colors still had a shine.

She smiled, and laughed,
And made it a big deal.
She joined the celebrations of creating history,
Cheering out loud, not one moment without an exuberating zeal.

So well planned was the everything,
That the setting began to feel perfect and real.
And only when the party ended, did it dawn on her,
That the silver was only in bargain of gold, a step down from the happy,
An entry into the SURREAL!!

– Stuti

Only when you do.

And while there was light and bright all around,
And glitter and shimmer too,
The moon up there felt a little lonely.

For it was only its territory,
To light up the dark skies each night,
And bring light and hope to those lost on the roads.

So it looked around for signs of the old days,
Still full of its light and brilliance,
And still ready to show off its beauty to the admirers.

When suddenly, it noticed a couple down there,
Enjoying a simple date under the moon lit sky, smiling and lost in beautiful thoughts,
Moon- light gleaming in their eyes, and light tears of happiness just around there.

Only then did it dawn that there will always be some extra light and fancy all around,
But you must shine no matter,
For it will nonetheless matter to a few, who smile ONLY WHEN YOU DO!

– Stuti

Confident.

What gave her confidence, was a smile.
A confidence fuelled by a promise:
The promise though really, was only a big fat hope,
Eh! And no one actually told her that!
She hoped the promise would work,
She promised herself, a confidence in the planned.
So once sorted with her hopes of a good plan and promises of confidence,
She was there- ready to set out in that world they called a ‘stage’:
She was going to play all characters, or at least help others play their roles,
She would hand them their props appropriate to the scene and theme,
She would wear make-up and masks to animate the shows too.
All to make sure, that people who mattered, all smiled.
All to make sure, that there were enough people who mattered.
All to make sure, that the enough had been a good number, and was enough too;
All to make sure, that she could sign off peaceful, happy, and CONFIDENT.

-Stuti

Fear.

She fears the stars,
For they are too bright for her eyes.
She fears the moon,
For it seems too calm to be true.

She fears the smile on her lips,
For it means happiness, and joy.
She fears tears in her eyes,
For they said, it means unhappy notes.

She fears death,
For they would be gone forever after that.
She fears birth too,
For they will be competition and responsibility soon.

She fears beauty,
For it can fool the world.
She fears the not- so- beautiful,
For they do not see the beautiful in themselves.

So she fears this, and she fears that,
She fights it all, pacifies her heart.
She’s told that fear’s no big, its all only in the head,
Yet she fears fear, hoping that she FARES WELL.

– Stuti

All at once.

All at once,
Too many things on her mind,
Myriad thoughts not in a pattern in particular?

All at once,
She couldn’t separate one thought from another,
She was confused so much wow?!

All at once,
There was too much happening,
One after another, next one even before the previous?

All at once,
There were simultaneous smiles and tears,
Both for happy, both for sad?!

All at once,
There were people, and there weren’t any,
Was she losing track of the counting?

All at once,
There were too many questions,
Why couldn’t she answer them, when she knew the answers really?

All at once,
There were too many voices,
Or could she now hear the whispers too?

All at once.
All at once.
ALL AT ONCE.

– Stuti