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marmalade ツ

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When Harry Styles said, "There's a part of you in the way I dress", I remembered her, to whom I no longer talk. Not because she's far away but because we ain't close enough. When FINNEAS said,"We're in our 20s talking 30s shit", I remember it's her birthday, today, that I forgot. When I cross The Bridge in bus, I see a bare oak tree on the right hand side and I remember how she pointed out a peacock sitting on it the other day. How do I tell her that when someone called my name earlier today, I almost cried happy birthday? How do I tell her that the happy birthday has grown into a naked oak tree on my tongue, empty this time? happy birthday i say. happy bi- #jug_days

When Harry Styles said, "There's a part of you in the way I dress", I remembered her, to whom I no longer talk. Not because she's far away but because we ain't close enough. When FINNEAS said,"We're in our 20s talking 30s shit", I remember it's her birthday, today, that I forgot. When I cross The Bridge in bus, I see a bare oak tree on the right hand side and I remember how she pointed out a peacock sitting on it the other day. How do I tell her that when someone called my name earlier today, I almost cried happy birthday? How do I tell her that the happy birthday has grown into a naked oak tree on my tongue, empty this time? happy birthday i say. happy bi- #jug_days

marmalade ツ

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I never had a chance to see my grandfather while growing up. But may be, that's just as how I perceive it. In a different view, it would be him who didn't have a chance to see me grow up. But that doesn't mean he wouldn't have wanted to. Just, sometimes, we learn to accept the absence of some things as a part of our lives. As a neutral phase. And that way, I won't say it doesn't hurt. It does. It just becomes a little less painful, a little more bearable. And ain't that exactly what all of us are doing? Calling the moon heartbroken only to find solace in the emptiness of its company? — % & Even if missing the missing you won't help, I'll do it, nevertheless, only to love and miss. To shoot and slip. :') #jug_days #poetryinprose #aestheticthoughts

I never had a chance to see my grandfather while growing up. But may be, that's just as how I perceive it. In a different view, it would be him who didn't have a chance to see me grow up. But that doesn't mean he wouldn't have wanted to. Just, sometimes, we learn to accept the absence of some things as a part of our lives. As a neutral phase. And that way, I won't say it doesn't hurt. It does. It just becomes a little less painful, a little more bearable. And ain't that exactly what all of us are doing? Calling the moon heartbroken only to find solace in the emptiness of its company? — % & Even if missing the missing you won't help, I'll do it, nevertheless, only to love and miss. To shoot and slip. :') #jug_days #poetryinprose #aestheticthoughts

marmalade ツ

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I've always taken comfort in the fact of a language, never being quite enough. Just as how an extra 'a' is added to every Rama and Ravana, taking birth under the reign of English. Like how I always found the whip over the head of 'e' in café too fascinating to miss out on. May be because that's just the case with humans. We don't seem to give away anything, without adding something of our own. May be because we neither want to be totally forgotten, nor entirely remembered. This way, we carry each other's parts, yet never becoming each other. So, we retain ourselves while reaching each other, just the same. — % & I was actually going to write a poem about this but it took the form of a prose so, i just let it be. :) #jug_days #poetryinprose #aestheticthoughts

I've always taken comfort in the fact of a language, never being quite enough. Just as how an extra 'a' is added to every Rama and Ravana, taking birth under the reign of English. Like how I always found the whip over the head of 'e' in café too fascinating to miss out on. May be because that's just the case with humans. We don't seem to give away anything, without adding something of our own. May be because we neither want to be totally forgotten, nor entirely remembered. This way, we carry each other's parts, yet never becoming each other. So, we retain ourselves while reaching each other, just the same. — % & I was actually going to write a poem about this but it took the form of a prose so, i just let it be. :) #jug_days #poetryinprose #aestheticthoughts

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I used to be told that hiccups are reminders of someone remembering me. And I loved that idea. I used to love that I can be remembered, in whatever snippets of mine etched in someone's memory. They could as well have been rubbed and slithered away from mine but someone, somewhere remembers it and remembers me. And the forgotten parts of me still live, giving me life. But, in order to stop the hiccups, you needed to guess the name of the one remembering you. Ofcourse, they never stopped even after me having taken a dozen names, except just one. The one that I so wished would be the one. And so, I used to stop and never take that name, simply because there was a part of me who held hope and another, who held fear. Fear of the hiccups not stopping. And now, I don't take any names. I like the possibilities life holds and hides. Life gives possibilities. Life gets possibilities. #jug_days #possibilities #hiccups

I used to be told that hiccups are reminders of someone remembering me. And I loved that idea. I used to love that I can be remembered, in whatever snippets of mine etched in someone's memory. They could as well have been rubbed and slithered away from mine but someone, somewhere remembers it and remembers me. And the forgotten parts of me still live, giving me life. But, in order to stop the hiccups, you needed to guess the name of the one remembering you. Ofcourse, they never stopped even after me having taken a dozen names, except just one. The one that I so wished would be the one. And so, I used to stop and never take that name, simply because there was a part of me who held hope and another, who held fear. Fear of the hiccups not stopping. And now, I don't take any names. I like the possibilities life holds and hides. Life gives possibilities. Life gets possibilities. #jug_days #possibilities #hiccups

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They say pupils dilate when looking at someone we love because our eyes wish to take in most of them. All of them. I think it's the other way around. May be, just may be, when our eyes decide to store someone in themselves, it becomes something we love. Someone we love. And that's exactly the reason why we want our loved things and people near us. To keep reminding us, that world can always become a little more beautiful. — % & hmm . #maybethings #pupils #love #jug_days

They say pupils dilate when looking at someone we love because our eyes wish to take in most of them. All of them. I think it's the other way around. May be, just may be, when our eyes decide to store someone in themselves, it becomes something we love. Someone we love. And that's exactly the reason why we want our loved things and people near us. To keep reminding us, that world can always become a little more beautiful. — % & hmm . #maybethings #pupils #love #jug_days

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Nowadays, it's almost as if the thought of losing gives way to more remembrance, thus opening up new ways to be lost. And it's strange, just how am I searching so vigorously for new paths where I can lose myself and what's stranger is that I am able to find them. Yesterday, I found love hanging on the branches of the ancient peepal tree in front of my house. So, I sat there and listened to the stories told by its leaves. You see, they told me of ghosts, wearing grey skirts of hope and violet shirts of hunger embedded with jewels rumoured to be pain. They told me of birds that no more preferred chirping but wanted to play instruments rumoured to be healing. They told me of statutes that talked and laughed and played and felt, rumoured to be poets. And with that, I realised, we are all just rumours that left our peepal tree, with truths to live and lie.— % & afterall who knows better of rumours than the peepal? ( pun intended :-P ) #poetry #rumours #jug_days

Nowadays, it's almost as if the thought of losing gives way to more remembrance, thus opening up new ways to be lost. And it's strange, just how am I searching so vigorously for new paths where I can lose myself and what's stranger is that I am able to find them. Yesterday, I found love hanging on the branches of the ancient peepal tree in front of my house. So, I sat there and listened to the stories told by its leaves. You see, they told me of ghosts, wearing grey skirts of hope and violet shirts of hunger embedded with jewels rumoured to be pain. They told me of birds that no more preferred chirping but wanted to play instruments rumoured to be healing. They told me of statutes that talked and laughed and played and felt, rumoured to be poets. And with that, I realised, we are all just rumours that left our peepal tree, with truths to live and lie.— % & afterall who knows better of rumours than the peepal? ( pun intended :-P ) #poetry #rumours #jug_days

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May be one of these days, I'll take a shovel and dig. Dig deep. Dig down. Until a pit is formed. Glistening moss shall be there, reminding me of worms I killed on purpose. Pricking smell of rotten promises and expired hope shall pierce my nostrils. Air shall blow, not wind. And then, air shall be abandoned. The soil, embraced. Curtains shall be stitched of gravel with threads of guilt. And there, I'll search for time. I'll search for all the lives that you said you'll live but couldn't. I'll search for the darkness you promised you weren't scared of. I'll search for the tears that you never shed. With the ingredients in hand, I'll then bury my poems and return, centuries after, to search for their bones, again. — % & One of these days. Perhaps I'll be an archaeologist then. 👀 #ruins #grave #poetry #jug_days

May be one of these days, I'll take a shovel and dig. Dig deep. Dig down. Until a pit is formed. Glistening moss shall be there, reminding me of worms I killed on purpose. Pricking smell of rotten promises and expired hope shall pierce my nostrils. Air shall blow, not wind. And then, air shall be abandoned. The soil, embraced. Curtains shall be stitched of gravel with threads of guilt. And there, I'll search for time. I'll search for all the lives that you said you'll live but couldn't. I'll search for the darkness you promised you weren't scared of. I'll search for the tears that you never shed. With the ingredients in hand, I'll then bury my poems and return, centuries after, to search for their bones, again. — % & One of these days. Perhaps I'll be an archaeologist then. 👀 #ruins #grave #poetry #jug_days

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Yesterday, my nephew came running to me, armed with his toy gun. And when he shot, either I had to die or snatch the gun and kill him. Ofcourse, I did none. Today, I recieved a letter from him that read, "there were no bullets". He had only ever meant to fool me, either way. But he doesn't know, he did it a third way. For, epiphanies are the mere recoiling impact of the promises we break and collect. #jug_days the one hashtag I'm entirely proud of.

Yesterday, my nephew came running to me, armed with his toy gun. And when he shot, either I had to die or snatch the gun and kill him. Ofcourse, I did none. Today, I recieved a letter from him that read, "there were no bullets". He had only ever meant to fool me, either way. But he doesn't know, he did it a third way. For, epiphanies are the mere recoiling impact of the promises we break and collect. #jug_days the one hashtag I'm entirely proud of.

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People rhyme with each other, just fine. It's the refrain that creates a mayhem. When I meet two people, alike, I start comparing the summers to the other one's winters, the pink shirts of one to the ironed white ones of the other, the caramelised eyes of one to the chocolaty ones of the other. Because, I wish to find all in one and one in all. That's where the chaos enters. Because sometimes, we should all be dancing to a song while not necessarily humming the lyrics. ive been hearing symphonies, before all i heard was silence a rhapsody for you and me an' every melody is timeless. #jug_days #song

People rhyme with each other, just fine. It's the refrain that creates a mayhem. When I meet two people, alike, I start comparing the summers to the other one's winters, the pink shirts of one to the ironed white ones of the other, the caramelised eyes of one to the chocolaty ones of the other. Because, I wish to find all in one and one in all. That's where the chaos enters. Because sometimes, we should all be dancing to a song while not necessarily humming the lyrics. ive been hearing symphonies, before all i heard was silence a rhapsody for you and me an' every melody is timeless. #jug_days #song

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I know of souls who come in different forms. Some with a packet of forehead creases. Some with a bouquet of unexpected creaks. Others with a pocketful of ocean's cracks. Some more survive with bundles of wordly curves. But the ones who tend to make it to the end are those, filled with corners of cliffs. For, they're the ones who know the time it takes to fall and the time it takes to reach. which one are you? just #jug_days :)

I know of souls who come in different forms. Some with a packet of forehead creases. Some with a bouquet of unexpected creaks. Others with a pocketful of ocean's cracks. Some more survive with bundles of wordly curves. But the ones who tend to make it to the end are those, filled with corners of cliffs. For, they're the ones who know the time it takes to fall and the time it takes to reach. which one are you? just #jug_days :)