Quiet?


She saw it fading away in the so many lights,
She saw it rusting away in the so many seasons.
She smiled and tried to hide her disappointment at the change,
She tried to cry on the sadness and the pain.

Every moment had a story behind it,
She had lived the stories, from the scratch to the terminus.
Every moon had a star behind it,
She had waited so long, it had ached her, it had plucked.

The friendly banter had all ended now,
It was some sort of serious business it seemed.
They had so laughed at it when it was happening,
Party over, everybody gone, it’s seemed spooky serene.

She looks back at the party days, tears in her eyes,
She twirls, she twists, remembering all the smiles.
What is left now, are memories and memoirs,
She has enjoyed while it was, will she now live only in QUIET?

– Stuti

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Memories twitching.


Broken hearts have so many stories to tell,
And yet they are called ‘failed in love’.
She too had a story that did not end so happy,
And yet in itself was a happy one.

She penned the story in words somewhere,
And very beautifully that.
But tore it to pieces this one day,
Not wanting to keep the memories intact.

She’s happy now, albeit some revisiting now and then,
She’s at peace now, albeit some memories twitching.
They say what happens, happens for the best,
Well maybe then, and so be it, she’s out to lay those doubts TO REST.

– Stuti

The old table.


An evening to remember
A memory to cherish
A smile, a wink
All as if blurred in a blink.

Those jokes leaving an after taste
Those funny moments, and moments with zero weight
Explanations ridiculous all
Meaningless banter, claims- drunk and tall.

Coffee, sandwiches, chips and shots
Gossips, rumors, make believe plots
Fantasies ahoy! And plans many
Intentions shady, yet consequences seemingly sunny.

She was sitting with her group at their old table
The one in the nooky corner
Wood chipping, scribbling all over
Life years later, more settled not calmer.

Old friends sitting all over again
Reminiscing old times and people
Unlike those days, none had much to say
Counting their words, so they could, and not just may.

Life goes on, and so do caf├Ęs
A group today and tomorrow new again
What stays though, is timeless & strong
MEMORIES. SOME UNSAIDS. EMOTIONS. BONDS.

-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

Kept her busy.


That paper she read everyday,
She re-read it again each day,
But still couldn’t remember the contents.

That photo she saw every morning,
She dreamt of it every night,
But still needed to physically see it to put to rest her plight.

Her ideas- she stringed them together,
Put them to test,
And decided to challenge the best with them.

Her memories- she made a story of them,
Put them in words, weaved them together,
And told it to all in the rem.

Her life- she wanted to document it in a book,
Put it out for all to read,
And re- read it herself so learn lessons from it.

The paper, the dream, the idea, the memories,
She wished were more organised, she hoped did not have crease.
And yet she knew that it all put together,
Alone made the life a challenge, alone kept her BUSY.

-Stuti

L.I.F.E.


This life, oh, it teaches you lessons umpteen,
This life, oh, it marries you to experiences unseen.
When roads are big, it teaches you strength.
When rains are hard, it teaches you wet.
Life shows you the way, life makes you lose it too.
Life is a grand affair, and sometimes just a gathering of a few.
Life is a salad of variety, and sometimes the monotony of the mighty.
Life is a collage of memories, one himself creates and forgets lightly.
A salute to this life and also to the life of every other,
For each one has done at least something or the other.
But enough about life now, with that I’m through,
Coz life is actually how you make it and your life should be about YOU.

-Stuti