I WRITE BECAUSE YOU EXIST, PRECIOUS!

Play Friendship  to check whether you have these expressions in your Friendship! Hey, do you recall that witty boy from 8th grade who used to make a fool out of himself to make the entire cohort chuckle? Also, that charming girl from section B, 'the miss popular' for whom almost every guy had a crush on? (Although most of the girls envied her for that). Okay, you must remember that topper boy of the class who was also nominated for the class monitor for the same. I can't recall the name, what was it? Did you know that he too had a rumored girlfriend? You don't? The girl, who was the chemistry topper. Nice match though. Oh my God! It has been so many years and yet we remember the silliest reminiscences. The witty boy, the miss popular, the topper and so many faces have become blurred but clear enough to still relish on them. When we remember their faces, how do we recognize them as? A friend? That's not possible, right? How can the entire cohort be our friends? After...

 "A woman is a woman's worst enemy" ~ A phrase, a joke or a reality? Well, it's still not pinpointed but it often passes through our ears as a shallow and cool vibrance.  Maybe, I'm not at a point to say with confidence about healthy women companionship, however the notion that has been nurtured in us has built an uninterrupted and biased conviction about women and their unity. I was somehow convinced from childhood that male friends are always better than female friends owing to minimal chances of betrayal. At my early days it seemed cool for me to have a lot of guy friends than girls. It's not that they were not at ace, some of them are still in touch and among my closest ones. However, the more I'm blossoming, the more I'm compassionate about how healthy, effortless and beautiful a women friendship can be.  The way your 'her' can understand the mess you are in without even mentioning it, The way she can break down your big mistakes into simp...

So, are you actually in love, precious?  I know, you are not ready for any commitment yet. You are so satiated with these bubbles inside you that you wish this phase to last forever.  Again, forever?  That one ring at exactly same time everyday, gives butterflies;  After all, that little sparkle is worth all the ignorant lies.  There has been not a single second when it felt monotonous, After all, it's the only 'not so legal' cause amid everything our Instagram claims pious.  Discussing even the lamest of gossips never felt like a waste, After all, that last half an hour of the day has been already affirmed as the 'best'.  It has been never as effortless as we breathe, That little consciousness of what not to tell has always been aside, After all, losing that little elation at the end of the day is not worth exposing our true side.  That episode of your life, where your heart already thinks that this person is the one.  Is this not the person...

Growing up in the captivating Era of Rajesh Khanna, vocalizing enchanting Bollywood dialogues were one of his treasured works. He was one of those kids in our settlement from whom neighbours used to get pissed off very often due to his wayward behaviour. The ones who really adored him, used to call him "the chota Rajesh Khanna" of India. From his salad days, his only dream was to become a famous Bollywood actor, one like the first 'superstar' of India and getting declared in the television. On his 10th birthday, we enlisted him in a nearby acting school to nurture the wings of the little boy who wanted to fly his dreams. Later, as he reached his early juvenescence, his animated dreams of a perfect life onscreen started losing colour. He emerged to be more indulged in a realistic existence. He still wanted to become a hero, not just act like one. He wanted to be a non-fictional warrior in his own cinema, named 'life'. As parents, never did we cloud the sky t...

Jewelled in all red and pretended gold, I always have an image to hold.  Holding back all the tears, I know, I have a lot more to bear.  Bearing the pleasures of other people, My wailing is just a piece of sample.  Samplings of joy are what I collect, With the ones I can hardly connect.  Love, this is what they make, I was told. But I don't understand why am I not able to take it anymore.  Holding the instructions of my head, I am always asked for the legs to spread.  Spreading immense of pleasures, a work, I was told. No more do I sense any pain,  My madam assumes, I am bold. I practice taking part in sexual activities in exchange of capital. In the unknown world, people call it business.  Turning back to the pages of Indian history, the earlier adaptations of us were called as 'devadasi' who considered the Gods as their husbands and therefore contributed their entire lives for the devotion of the same. Later, they were called the 'nagarvadhu' or...

A store of thoughts in the heart were being hindered, A cluster of scribbled notions were gathered,  When for the first time, it was again rekindled.  Rekindling the words that were unspoken,  For the first time, it was articulated with the love that was almost forgotten.  Forgotten the memories that life has delivered,  Until it was framed with words and were being shared.  I shared everything with so much compassion and love, And in return? In return I was parceled with so much more than I Showered.  Showering every thought that crossed my mind, The mind which once hovered like a bumblebee, Now, it expresses the cache that were about to flee.  Flying every visions with love that my heart remembers,  And in return? In return I am blessed with something so precious, my readers.  Hey, my precious one, you might be wandering that everything I scribbled above is just a flattering to hold your consciousness. Well, if to some extent I could s...