Ephemeral Serendipity

More often than not, we come across people (some), by CHANCE, without any intent of meeting, without any reason. Yet when we meet them, they change our lives. They touch in a way that leaves you changed from within.

Do I believe in co-incidences? Not too long ago, I'd have said, without batting an eye lid that I DO NOT. But now, I do. I do believe in co-incidences as in serendipity and that there is a purpose for every person to be at such place at such time. May be to make someone realise their true worth, or to make them realise how strong or how weak they are.  And before you even realize it, accidentally some people would have changed the course of your life.

CHANGE IN PERCEPTION

I met one such person, who without even being aware of it, changed the way I looked at my life and changed a lot of my perceptions. I let go of my rigidity in certain aspects and thoughts, all thanks to him. I am no more a moral police, all thanks to him. I do not judge people for the choices they make, all thanks to him. For who knows, maybe I would one day make the same choice. Thanks to these changes, one thing that hurt me the most at one point of time, does not even matter to me any more.

I want to  tell him that IT FEELS AWESOME TO HAVE MET HIM.....but in comparison to what he did to me, without even realizing that he did so, all my words would still fall short.

THANKS G, for empowering me. Yes, I am so glad that our paths crossed and we met accidentally. I am, however not sad that we are not in touch any more. Who knows what limits you’d have pushed, what liberties you (or I) would take. I am just happy that you brought a sea of changes in me.

Serendipity indeed, ephemeral however.

B

 (PS: Images were googled)

A Dead Night (December 19, 2011)

End of day was so swift, that I didn't notice the drift to night.

Night! Oh so young night, so young and so long... Silent night.

In the dead of the night, in the silence of the night, why?? Why do you make so much noise in my head?!!

Memories are like floods, the gates crash and they flow.. So vivid and so cruel!!!

MEMORIES kill .. Memories KILL me !!

Memories of what "has been" and the reality of what "isn't", memories!! They kill me, cut through me like a dagger.

I die each night, every time...

Its DEATH by memories...

By the dawn of "what it ought to be" and "what it isn't" ...

Finding You (2012)

I find you in the first rain drop that touches my face..
I find you in the smile that appeared randomly while I was on my way to work.
I find you in the tear that rolls out of my eye without any warning and without any reason
I find you in someone else's words.
I find you in the laughter of that kid who refuses to let me touch her.
I find you in a tweet, that was retweeted on my timeline.
I find you in the big questioning eyes of the old lady next door, who waits for me to move past her everyday.
I find you in the song that I was played by the RJ on a request made by an unknown face.
I find you, in things around me, in people I am surrounded by.
I find you in music and words.

I find you, in me....

HOLDING ON TO MEMORIES (February 2013)

Was it yesterday that I saw you last or has it been ages? It feels like many lifetime's

Does your arm still feel as warm? How I wish I knew..

Times when my eyes look for you in the thousand faces in the crowd, Times when my eyes know it is you even in a crowd of more than thousand.

The breeze, the smell, the drizzle, the road that we had once taken aimlessly, they all call out . . and no I don't wince, I smile.

The post-its that you left, are all safe. Untouched.

The pen that I stole from your desk, without your knowledge, is still with me. Unused and treasured.

That shirt that smells of you, is still kept hidden in the same place.

The pack box of the coffee mug you gifted, I haven't thrown it. It holds the SIM card that you bought for me which I don't use anymore.

The playful knowing smiles, those little naughty winks, that wanting of standing next to you, the need of being held by you.. the Madness :-)

I hold on to all those beautiful memories, but I cannot let go of the hurtful moments.

When did the love that felt so liberating turn into something as sinister as bondage and as heavy as a burden.

I own you like I own no other thing. Yet, you aren't mine.

The love story of the blue sky and the blue sea, as pure as rain and as vain as the illusion that give them the colour blue.

Let me remember you in the memories that make me smile. Let all the moments that hurt fade away from memory. If only. .

YOU

Knowing you . . . .in few of my convictions
Wanting you . . . .when I sit on the rock with wind in my hair watching the sun set
Loving you . . .every moment, every day
Finding you . . in the trail left on cheeks by tears. .

Tired Much (May 18, 2013)

Another milestone was crossed, without any milestone achieved.

About to cross yet another mile, still no milestone

Dreams that vanished, dreams that got buried,

Dreams that were broken, dreams that were thrashed. . .

To live without anything to look forward to; could there be a punishment more severe?

You come back to an empty home, with no one waiting for you

and then the memories of a dream that you had hoped for a future, begin to haunt.

What you had wanted, what you had wished for, What you got, what you live with . .

Not daunted by anybody who tries to intimidate;

haunted by a young old self who keeps questioning

How long? When? How? And the worst of all “You think so?”

Living a borrowed life, EMI’s of which never end

For once, she craved for a happiness that was hers to hold,

that was hers to clutch and that was hers to own.

Tired of the trials of life, she was busy finding happiness in small little things

like rain, windy weather, coffee, a child’s smile.

She got tired of finding happiness in those things.

Tired of trying to own the rain and the wind that was not hers

Tired of holding the child that wasn’t hers to hold.

Tired of smiling at the grumpy old lady next door

Tired of the tears and their “now predictable” trail

Tired of the vain life and the stupid self

Tired of the pretext; tired of the pretence.

Tired of having to have some patience

Tired of the tribulations, tired of the truth Tired of myriad mirage, tired of the hope’s carnage

Tired of the cuts that don’t bleed; Tired of the bruises that she doesn’t need

She asked;

Where is my share ?

My share of love, my bundle of joy,

the apple of my eyes, my share of life?

Where is?

Life replied:

You just got served