7 am i am too engrossed in either dreams or fighting the morning heat that some how finds way into my room.
7 pm i take a break from work. And most days its time for coffee. Alone.
The moments i whisper
the simplest words for you,
a thunderous storm kicks up
in my head and heart -
Its no easy way to tell
not in less than thousand words,
how much i miss you.
the world revolves around you
And it will be so always,
but how does one fight the urge
to shut down every other thought
and go on with the task in hand,
like say, making my fave soup
but following your dressing tip,
Each golden sunset with a red halo,
a reminder of your words
Dripping in my blushing eyes,
i inhale you scent from my skin
Tracing empty palms on my skin,
where only you can reach
And make these feelings come alive.
For me, nothing is better than books, book racks , book stacks , book covers ….
So you get my point i guess. Since i am on a self impised restriction on buying new books ( i cheated on that yesterday though) , i am filling my kindle reader with lot of free books. This is a screenshot of some of my fav books !
Also, i am 6 books ahead of my reading goal. I cant stop eatching all the book covers in my reading progress page. Here is a screenshot from goodeads :
M loving this !!
But maybe it could become,
If only he had replied
To the last email she sent.
Actually there were many
One for each day,
Most were answered well
But one would remain.
It was a pattern of sort
A habit she got used to
The emails had no goodbye
Neither a reason to renew.
Even then they wrote,
To each other religiously
And waiting who would end
This pretense of untiring duties
You see the love had gone
And the words grew cold
But more difficult were the hearts
That refused to let go.
The things you do for love’s sake
But the same you ask not;
The verses of love you write
But most you get replied not;
The days you want to act stubborn
But you know well you can not;
The nights you stay awake in bed
And wish it wasn’t so;
The dreams you see with open eyes
And wish they could be re-told;
The love you hold in your heart and life
That the world would appreciate not;
The only hands that can hold you well
Are the ones that stay closed;
The hopes you create in waking hours
Your nightmares burn them all;
And when you write all this down,
Trust me it will hurt you more;
But you still think of such moments
And want them to be not;
The way you wish the things to be,
The very things that are not.
I also recorded this poem :
for open Link Night.
And like Emily begins her posts some days, when I began typing , I had the line in my head – where I accept sometimes it is tough to feel loved. Some days I question all that I have in my hands , the love I feel surrounded by , the hopes , the dreams and I can see the piles of my smiles falling down brick by brick. Then I get back to my prayers and instantly , I see a ray of blessing shining on me. Lover boy calls me and in his own special ways makes me smile and make me sure of the dreams we made together for our life.
Thank you God for listening so soon to me.
This reminds me of a conversation I had with mother. I told her , even 15 min of time spent in prayers feel so hard while we spend hours doing nothing or gossiping or any random activity. She told that this realization is the beginning of making conscious effort to pray and be thankful to God. There was a time when I thought admitting that I pray or more so , admitting I can not pray daily and with full conviction in my God , was not a good thing.
Recently after reading doubts and realizations and confessions and love filled posts from some wonderful people I meet here on Imperfect Prose , I learned that being honest matters. Being thankful matters. Being loving and accepting the love is more important that regretting the moments you did otherwise.
thank you all for teaching me so much.
for loving me so much.
for just being the awesome YOU.
just like that
You forget to call me one night,
And you go to bed without saying
“I love you”
Or wanting to hear me say that;
just like that
You don’t call even the next morn,
And I practically live around the cellphone
Waiting to hear you
And scream “I missed you love”
just like that
It never is the same again,
The love is lost and forgotten with time
And you get new habits,like
Once u had with me, to say
“I love you darling”
Before you went to bed.
And now just like that,
We walk away. From us. From love.
just like that
thanks to Marathon Bloggers Group [ Have you still not checked it ? ] I come across so much awesome information , tips , food for thought and more food ideas . 2 weeks back I saw this Oatmeal Pancake recipe on Tanu’s blog and since then , I wanted to make it for breakfast some day. Finally after losing the recipe , and somehow recovering the link from browser history [ who says it doesn't come useful ] I made them today :
I so so much loved them
Next time i am gonna get maple syrup or mango jam for pancakes.
Even before Emily asked this question , I was already walking on the path to accepting another flaw in me [ maybe I am being over critical ] , thanks to a gentle nudge in that direction from a dear friend.
I can not be happy too long
As much absurd this sound to even myself , I feel there is certain truth to this statement. I am more comfortable being a little sad or upset about this and that, but I can not believe everything being perfect or out of my hands. I have to be a little low and kind of become the reason for the same.
Yes, It is. And I admit this behavior is strictly in check from past months.
But I slip once in a while. And every time I am thankful for the helping hand I get from my friends and family. I need to be scolded a bit at times to make me realize how my moods are affecting the people close to me. How I can not always blame myself or fear the worst.
And those days , I place faith on people who love me , on the guy who thinks I am worth all the love and care , on my family who feel proud of who I am and on God to guide me out of these depressive storm brewing on the horizon.
I guess writing helps too ( I see I am smiling a bit as I wrote this)
So that’s what I discovered about myself today ( again ) and I promise my love , I will be better tomorrow and for days to come.
*hugs to myself*
They were not poor. They were saving. For each other , for the future. For the life ahead- not better or worse ’cause they were best together and they valued it lot. This support , this silent understanding , this strength to smile for each other, all this alone made them proud and happy.
But Like most girls, she loved gifts. And like many guys, he was a shy clueless fellow who just knew to love but not express.
Yet he knew how to make her happy. How to see that shine in her eyes , every time they met.
No gold or silver
to offer you tonight,just
colors to bind us
Isn’t that the reason God made flowers ? For a guys like that.
When love knocks your door, oh wait , love is not that polite. It has a nasty habit of poking you , nudging you , teasing you and winking shamelessly at you when you are with that special someone or thinking about him later on. The whole world might await or ask about it in whispers and you will walk away, lying about it – to yourself and to others.
Then one day , lying on the grass , watching the sunlight play blinking games with you, you feel the butterflies in your stomach as he leans over you and kisses you, the very kiss you dreamed about from weeks just happens without a warning or planning. While you were waiting for grand signs, love came and made home in your heart and his in subtle ways on just another day.
That night , you write in your diary, with most sheepish grin and stars in your eyes. you declare in capital letters to yourself, “I AM IN LOVE”.
And life goes on. In love. With your love. For his love.
The moments melt , like yin and yang , like smiling tears or tearful smiles , like a make up kiss or the useless fight.
You are not you. He is not him.
“We” live to love.
Early not,nor late
the world will hear the music
his love claims me
some people lack
and that’s their super power;
to hide in plain sight,
to blend in a crowd,
to be a stranger all life,
even to ones who see them
every passing day -
These are the people
I sometimes wish to be -
some days I so badly need
this immunity from the world
of known faces , known feelings,
of advertised smiles
and so much shared pains.
Sitting in the middle seat
I look around -
People next to me ,
People in next row,
The window this side,
And the one beyond.
I see trees pass by
Or is it me who left them behind,
I see bare brown hills
Bowed down by the vast skyline,
I feel fresh air tickle me
As the window rattles with smile.
I see myself walking a trail
Or is it just a wish to be out there
Wandering by the lonely flower
Asking how it feels today
What color it thinks he looks like
Or maybe it sees me different way.
Sitting in the middle seat
I look about -
Where do this journey leads
Where do I want to reach ?
Where do I really stand ?
Where is the trail I walk free.
Written while on a train journey to jaipur. And now to breakfast on train ! How I looove that
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Maid in Singapore, a tale based on true events, relives the bizarre and often troubling journey of a family consisting of an Indian woman and her British banker husband, forced to move to Singapore from their home in London. Their chemistry quickly turns acidic with the hiring of a maid who enters their web of carnal excesses, redefining the rest of their lives.
The blows dealt on each member are enough for any to give up, choosing actions that are shocking, as only true events can be.
Before I got this book, I read a review of the book on some blog and I was turned off a bit. If the book was really all about sex and that too a web of multiple partners sort , I certainly was apprehensive. when I started the book , the sex part came in quite early in the pages and I was beginning to feel uncomfortable. Maybe i am quite old fashioned in this regards, yet somehow I could not put the book down. The events were written so clearly and even if the language was sophisticated and simple , the flow of the book was inspiring.
The book is in three parts : Shame , acceptance , laughter. It is written in form of a journal by Rashmi starting from her move to Singapore with husband David and son Jay. It tells us of the maid Mary’s entry into her household and subsequent exit – the circumstances , the consequences and later in second part she tells about how she dealt with all this. Sometimes when we push a limit , or accept some one doing it , we forget that there is no turning back. How our actions affect the ones connected to us , we do not really comprehend. Human mind works in weird ways and often truth is far stranger than fiction. While I read this book, I felt myself connect to Rashmi at many of her thoughts and decisions.
The Last chapter is in another voice – of a lady Eve. For some reasons , that is my favorite part of the book. Where everyone sort of escapes the eyes and words of Rashmi and spoke for themselves.
I am not sure how to describe the book is mere words. This was a journey for me to understand that even in weirdest of events happening around you , all you need is to keep your head and heart clear. Communication is must in every relationship and no means is ever better than talking face to face.
I liked this strange tale.
True or not , I know such people do exist. And I feel for all of them.
I stumbled upon this awesome prompt to recap our weeks every Friday. I so much needed this I guess. Sometimes writing poetry and flash fiction can get tiring. so yes , this is a reflective way to know how I did this week :
( In order of my remembrance)
* I start the year end writing prompt tomorrow. And really glad to see it turning 3 this year. *fingers crossed* for finding lot of posts to read. Details here
* This blog found its 200th follower. And kind of liked the way wordpress announced it in notifications
* December, I have a secret , long cherished dream to make happen. Please wish me luck .
* I had been trying to find out , who sent me this book since it came as a gift without a name. And it turns out , DialABook ( @dialabook )saw my tweet about someone gifting me a book and did send me one ! That was super awesome thing of the week !
* I finished 40 books this year and on my book review blog , I finished my 50th book review. Much proud to be associated with that blog.
* I realized I am not being at my best behavior for a friend. Maybe I am unable to forget my hurt and am being biased in my judgement. I am not proud of it but for unexplainable reason, I can not seem to change my ways. I do wish best for him.
* For the first time I admitted to myself I have some unresolved resentment against few of my friends, who went missing when I needed and I wish to do the same to them someday. I might have actually acted this selfish with few. Am I proud ? No. Do I regret ? Not yet.
* I wrote another poem in my mother tongue. And I will like to try more and more writing in that.
* I did a considerably decent job at cleaning my room today. And I am more and more enjoying cooking on my own.
* Boyfriend loves me a lot and really wants me to get better every day at whatever I do but its my bestie who really understands me and I guess I love her a bit more every week.
bless you all !
It is "ashtami" today – the eighth day of the auspicious navratri ( nine nights of godess worship ). This day at my home is celebrated with making puri , black chana and halwa for kanya poojan. Mom always cooks a lot of food and distributes to the less fortunate kids around house.
Its been years that I attended this ceremony at home so hearing about it today from mom, made me miss it a lot more than usual. Hence I decided to make halwa for my team mates and to be offered after little prayers of my own to the goddess durga. It was the first time I made halwa and apart from almonds and mom’s comments , I guess i made it well.
( for 4 people)
1/2 bowl suji (semolina)
1/2 bowl sugar
1/2 bowl refined oil
water – 4 bowls
Soak the dry fruits in water before you begin making halwa.
Heat the oil in an open vessel and add suji to it.
Mix them well and keep moving the mixture till suji starts to turn brown. Keep the heat low if your mixture starts to burn.
Once the suji is mixed and cooked well with oil, add the sugar and mix it well on low flame.
Add a little bit of water to allow the mixture in vessel to absorb it.
Add the soaked dry fruits.
Add remaining water and keep moving the mixture with a table spoon till it begins to thicken.
Once the mixture starts losing oil on the sides, and it had a consistent stickiness, switch off the gas.
Halwa is ready !
Best served hot
Also check this wiki link for a general description of halva : http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Halwa#Semolina_.28suji.29
"did you check out that girl ?", he asked.
"how can I notice when you take all my attention,dear", I lied.The way he looked at the girl had to get my attention.
"How can some one wear so many colors?",he asked surprised.
"I can show you", I said dragging him to our room.
Some valid to none
Some never told,
Some fought about,
some kissed away,
And today they stand
Together as one
With respect and love
alone, a heart is won.
Dedicated to the one with whom I can be as different in thoughts and actions and yet find myself similar in many ways.
Love to the best inspiration and muse
what start as a really beautiful day rarely stays so for me. Am I jinxed ? or am i just not meant to celebrate early ? The day was pretty awesome as per me when I skipped sleep for watching a tv show and then went for a long walk while talking to ym bestie. The morning was beautiful , the roads so green with falling leaves and the air fresh with hopes of a rainfall.
Having tea with my roomie and some beauty session later, I fell asleep only to be woken up by hunger pangs ! Fixed myself a decent bowl of porridge and having packed a yullilicious paneer veggie for dinner , I was sure the day gonna be just fine. After all it was Friday !
And then maybe the evil fairy caught em smiling. ’cause a few teary eyes intervals later , I have managed to have an arguement with a special friend , cried over my mother’s call , cursed myself endlessly and even prayed a bit to be blessed with a strong will power.
And yet , except my mother no one can understand how much my failures affect me. How much it breaks my dreams and hopes about myself , when week after week , I find no change in my situation.
Cheerin up others , I have now no more words left to console or encourage myself at times.
And when I was almost ready to get back ym smile , I get my appraisal letter with the poor rating intact.
Never before have I been so hopeless about my carreer and future , the way I get nowdays.
I know the change is in my hands. but how exactly I gonna get to make the change , is still left to see. No promises , just lot of expectations from self.
Wish me luck !
It begins same way, “Lets keep this free of expectations”,
“does it really stay so ? “he mused aloud ,
“Even sex is an expectation in our affair I say”, he continued. “Where is this going?” she asked calmly.
“will you cook for me after we are done in bed ?” he shyly asked.
Prompted @ 3WW