Sunday, November 28, 2010

White Lies

Harmless? Yes
Do I tell them? Yes
Can we survive without them? No
Can I stand being on the receiving end though? Never.

Don't ever lie to me. Don't ever pretend.
It may not seem so, but I really can handle the truth.
Well, atleast, I can handle it better than lies.


Sugar and Hope

That little girl we often see,
in dreams alone and memories sweet,
That little girl who looked up at the sky,
soaked in the sun and flashed so radiant a smile. 

That little girl who dreamed those dreams,
When she laughed, so shrilly she screamed.
That little girl who did believe
In pixies, fairies and the unseen. 

That little girl who was called hope,
Tasted like sugar and knew how to cope.
That little girl, we used to be. 
Who tried and failed but still believed. 


Saturday, November 27, 2010


Every dream, every tear
Every laughter, every sneer
Will one day become a memory so dear.
Like a shooting star,
So distant, so bright
Like the first drops of rainwater
Or the comfort of the night. 

You'll hold it close, 
You'll hold it tight. 
You'll protect it with all your might. 
But, she'll be gone,
She's very wise.
Leaving you with thoughts
That will hover every night. 


Friday, November 26, 2010

Living in the shadows

The unsaid,
The eyes often speak
The often heard
The mind seldom believes.

The shadows, they play games
The shadows, they remain
Lurking behind 
In some distant memory lane

Bruised, bleeding,
Staring, mocking
They laugh in my face
These shadows, they have no shame. 

For while I thought
Broken memories haunt, 
These shadows of mine
Don't forget to taunt. 

The shadows, they dodge
The shadows, they steal
Away from me, sanity my own
For these shadows aren't mine alone

They were ours to keep
They're shadows of memories, bittersweet. 
Subtle? So to speak. 
Ha! They're abrasive.
They leave me weak. 

These shadows have a life of their own
These shadows, that I live in
These shadows, you left alone
Rot in your absence, as I silently moan. 

The in-between

There never is a black or white,
There's only grey and off white. 

I'd like to write about ambiguity, about vagueness. Today however, in a very unambiguous manner. Atleast, I will attempt to. Self reflection in abundant quantities has led me to one definite realization- we underestimate the existence of 'in-between-ness'. (I said i'd be unambiguous not articulate, so making words up is allowed). This is probably not the most desired conclusion of my eccentric, overbearing, why, even annoying thought process, but this is well the only 'definite' conclusion I could draw. Simply because everything else lies scattered in pieces, everything else is uncertain, vague, caught between a million shades of grey.

No, I don't intend to sound preachy or pseudo intellectual. And no, am not nuts. It's a tough deal to explain. While writing this, I can think of people (friends, if I may add) who will read, roll the eyes and brush it off saying it's Riddhi (Infact, that happens a LOT, about too many things and I will elaborate on that in another post). But I want to give a concrete shape to these scattered, indefinite thoughts about indefinableness itself and what better way to do that than dump my pretty page with details.

Let's start with relationships. Specific to my case, my relationships with people are seldom 'defined'. There's a close, a really close, a not so close, a socially close and the shades of grey are endless. I can count using fingers of one hand people I would actually bare all to. Yet, relations with people, experience, memories have this innate ability to stay with me. For a very long time, if not forever. Since I don't always know how to address these relations, they are tagged as friends. There is family too. In the case of family, it is all defined. I think before I could learn anything else, I learnt how to talk and the second that happened, I had relatives teaching me to address them in a special way for each of their 'special' relations with me. But, you know thing is, these definitions were forced upon me. Who is to say i followed them? Family comes under one big block for me and all the members of it form another million shades of grey. Darker maybe, but still grey. No black, no white, no perfect circle, no edges. Just fluid, not concrete.

I have begun to realize it is a conscious effort- maintaining the in-between. It's so much easier. It's non committal and free and oh so very spacious! I think maybe I fear 'concrete' in itself. Definitions can be suffocating, they imply limitations, restrictions and no scope for imagination or the unexplored. The grey on the other hand leaves room for that which is undiscovered, that which is a risk, but that which i yearn. So I go on, moving from scattered memory to another; one incomplete ending to another; asking questions; exploring variety; all this time knowing fully well that the path i tread lacks stability. Still, atleast it quenches my thirst for freshness, newness, even though am fully aware that all that is new today, will one day be boring and all that seems interesting today, will one day be annoying.

Maybe for all my courage, so to speak, for all my extrovert nature and social outward-ness if that that's what you want to call it, there is a part of me that will always hide behind the curtains. That's the part of me that still keeps me going.


Monday, November 22, 2010

Saturday, November 13, 2010

The Story of a Girl

Slowly, one by one
She let the memories burn.
But the ashes were all around,
The conscience, yet to be found.

Those noises were deafening her. 
The face in the mirror, but a blur.
When she tried to listen though, 
She could not hear those screams, no. 

So fiercely, she rubbed her eyes,
While in her mind, still rolling dice.
The odds, they seemed to favour her tonight!
She'd killed the man, with all her might. 

The blood on her hands remained.
She stared at it, only slightly pained. 
But those noises? They were here to stay
To remind her of the storm at bay. 

Bloody, Blurry
The emptiness so noisy. 
In the shining armour, her knight. 
She'd stabbed him with all her might. 

Slowly, one by one
She let the memories burn.
But the ashes were all around,
The conscience, yet to be found.

(to be continued)

Monday, November 8, 2010

So you think you can tell...

and Swords.

and Ghosts

Sudden Blows.

Laughter unlikely,
Laughter so tightly,
Anger, just rightly.

But never seek.

The knees weak?

You'll never see.

Let it be.

......heaven from hell, blue skies from pain?