Tag Archives: random thought

A letter to nobody: Revel in her perfect imperfections

Dearest Nobody!

Let me be very honest about it and let me say it all loud and clear!

You defy your feelings. You deny your love. You hoodwink yourself let alone the entire universe. And it is rather alarming.

You are half dead and it pains me. You live but you are living in denial. And I find it cringeworthy.

You keep trying to find an escape. In vain. From yourself. From every object around you.

From everything that has life. From everything that lacks it.

I know you love her. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be around. Pursuing her. Despite failing at it badly.

Because you are sure that she is a meaningful pursuit rather than just another disposable pleasure.

And you are afraid. For, she is a pursuit that never consummates. She won’t last forever.

You might as well, my dearest one, for her may just be a passing fancy.

Things change. Priorities change. Separation ensues. Distances grow.

Inevitability of change plays its part. Forgetfulness takes its toll.

But remember! Just because something doesn’t last forever doesn’t mean it loses it luster and diminishes its worth. And you totally understand that.

People part and they move on. That’s life. People come and people go, in and out of your life. That’s how it works. Because life goes on, you know, right?

Years lapse by. However, deep within, there is still a part of you that she cohabits.

Memories become your solace. And memories haunt too.

That is exactly when you understand the value of memory.

That is exactly when you understand the idea of immortality of events.

You understand eternity.

When in love, you are in no condition to distinguish between the right and wrong.

And that’s totally human.

And you find no flaws but only virtue.

You overlook all the scars and merely see perfection and grace.

She casts every ray of awareness upon your love for her, the moment you lay your eyes on her.

She casts spells over your mind even during the moments when she is out of sight.

She may not be the perfect personification of beauty. But she is beautiful nevertheless. In her own way.

Like you are saying now and you have said it before.

Nothing looks prettier than her pretty pointed nose and seductively smoggy eyes and sugary smiling lips and slender silvery neck.

And she is full of whims.

You never knew before meeting her that the whims could be as delightful and exciting too.

Imagine loving someone to the level that her caprice starts to sound cute and seem comely.

She is a wild creature.

And there is something beautiful about her wildness, right?

And she is weak. And she is vulnerable.

And she doesn’t even wear false pretensions of power and resilience.

And she is dangerously honest about her vulnerabilities.

And she is a free soul. Isn’t that lovely?

What floors you most is her completeness, and her craving for freedom and her longing for perfection.

Times have left its marks on her mind and scars over her soul.

Know that she was destroyed before.

She needs pampering. Treat her with care  and kindness and vigilance.

If she decides to be with you my dearest one, she will do it with all her entirety. Know this now and know this well.

Know that she will have to step over her fears and insecurities to be with you.

And fears don’t fade away in a wink of an eye.

They take time. Give her time.

If she loves you and respects you and entrusts you with an opportunity, treasure it with all your heart and soul.

Don’t ever let her down.

Know her. Read from the pages of her life.

Spend every moment with her as if it were your first. And last.

Be present. Physically and emotionally. And read.

She comes with an emotional baggage. Share it.

Strive to stimulate her thoughts and her emotions.

Plunge into her soul like you will dive into an ocean.

Know this that her love and existence will heal every part of you.

But remember this. Don’t try to fix her. Ever.

She doesn’t need fixing.

She is complete with all her pieces – which could, might as well, be scattered.

Just don’t try to mend her.

Don’t ever treat her like she were a broken woman.

Let her past scars and marks be!

You should just not be the one to inflict more upon her.

She would want to undress her soul in front of you and be utterly herself.

She wants you to look at her like every woman would want to be looked at!

Give her all of you so she could give you all of her.

Revel in her perfect imperfections.

Build her up. Uplift her.

And enjoy the art of reciprocation.

Talk to her about the stars and moon and sun and oceans and entire galaxies and all that is beautiful out there.

Treat her right. Respect her. Protect her.

Allow her the privilege of privacy. Trust her.

Appreciate her.

And last but not the least, give her all of you so she could give you all of her.

Revel in her perfect imperfections…

Yours truly

‘Someone out there’

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Ramz رمز – an enigma 

Ramz ۔ رمز yeah right, that’s her name. Ramz is a Public Policy expert. She writes on topics pertaining to health and education policy.

She is the beauty personified; pretty eyes, pointed nose, and chubby cheeks. But that’s not what she is popular in her circle for.

She inspires people with her unique intellect, soft and composed tone, and sophisticated demeanour. Her impressive mannerism makes her a model of magnanimity and grace.

Ramz has been waiting for her date over that table.

The love of her life who she has been dating for three years. She plans to have babies with him. A girl and two boys. Girl first, of course.

Wedding date is being fixed. October 13th this month.

Soon after the wedding, the newly-wed couple leaves for their honeymoon to Maldives. For four nights and five days. With two days transit stay in Dubai.

She has bought her wedding dress. A golden colour costume with silver-studded beads over the red dupatta.

While taking yet another sip of her tea, she turns to look at her watch to see it’s 5.30 and realises he is late. The date was at 5.00.

He is late. That’s totally unlike him. He hates people who get late for no reason.

She gets worried. Takes her cellphone and makes a call. He doesn’t respond. She wonders, it must have been traffic. For, he makes sure every time they meet each other, that he is there to welcome her. Well before time.

She gets nervous. Takes her cellphone again and calls him. He doesn’t respond, again. 

To cope up with her rising worry and anxiety, Ramz opens an app and starts scrolling down her timeline.

Ramz has no idea. She is totally unaware.

Ramz is oblivious of the fact while glaring at the entrance and waiting for him, that on route from his office to the restaurant, a car met a deadly accident.

A racing bus hit the car. And boom. The young man inside the car bled, lost consciousness and was rushed to the nearby hospital.

The man succumbed to the wounds he never wanted and declared dead. An unforeseen and sudden death that he never deserved. Destiny wanted him dead.

And the poor girl Ramz, there she is… sitting lonely at the goddamn unfortunate table at one end of the restaurant.

Still scrolling through her timeline. Anticipating his arrival. Waiting for him. In vain. Unaware. 

Taking her last sip of the tea that is no longer hot. Oblivious of the fact that she has been waiting a never-ending wait. She hasn’t had even the slightest idea that he drove from his office to never finish his journey. 

He left to see her but she would never see him again. Until eternity. He shall never come.

Fate never favoured his return. Fate never wanted her to see him again.

Ramz waits anyway…

  1. **inspired by a sketch/doodle made by a friend.

Damsel in distress

Serene environs.

Silence broken by the gushing water

falling down the rocks…

amidst green, secluded space,

stands the damsel in distress…

Unperturbed by the chaos in the vicinity,

un-amused by all the beauty at her doorsteps.

Fighting some futile tireless mind-battles,

over-stressed. Ungrateful.

Oblivious of all the gifts.


I want you in your entirety

“Love has nothing to do with keeping those you love around”, they say. Dare I disagree?

It has a lot to do with that I swear. For, the moments spent with the loved one around are magical. The delightful company is beyond paranormal, mystic.

You wish you lose sense of all. And flow with the stream, getting carried away in your emotions losing all control, driven away with the wind to no man’s land where there is no one to judge and no one to grudge. And all that is left and all that matters is all of them in their entirety.

Where consequences become inconsequential and the sense no longer makes any sense and what you end up attaining is insane level ecstasy.

Notwithstanding you’re not a moth meant to burn and blaze, still after all this, all you crave is getting completely consumed into the flame, and cease to exist. And begin to coexist.

You wish times could stand by and places could fly. Since your souls already take off for a journey high over vales and places you have never been to before.

You wish you could dissolve into them and transform into one single entity like the moonlight dissolves into the sea and ends up in an absolute majesty.

Possessing someone, they say is not a fair deal.

However, when you possess me and I possess you and the sense of possession even for mere mortal second, however short-lived it may be is unimaginably euphoric and inexplicably ecstatic and exotic.

I have had the taste of obsession, relinquished myself of drinking on the idea of sustaining reputation, since it’s not just about infatuation.

It definitely is about something beyond any realms of obsession, madness or just the corporal fascination.

The sensations you invoke have been invoked by none, ever. And it’s not certainly a passing fancy. What fortifies the passion is the reason that sensations from the barter of the minds, thoughts and dreams emanate. And a lot more that words fail to elucidate.

I possessed for some moments and got possessed. I really did. And in your entire entirety.

I definitely had you in all your entirety. Your fullness and halfness. Your parts and pieces. The sides you hide from yourself and the sides you hide behind. I have had you in all your entirety and without having to touch you for even once.

A woman of multi shades that you are and I have had you in all your colors. Your goodness and your depravity. Your madness and sanity. Your lowliness and vanity. Your laughter and anger. Your grace and grandeur. Your whims and your certainty.

I have had you in all your entirety. And I wanted it to last. And I wanted it bad.

I have had you in all your entirety. I have had you in your breaks and scars, parts you have left behind and pieces you have yet to find.

I put you apart into the pieces and wrap myself up in them having knit the unbreakable knot and keep you within once and for all. Until all that is left around of you is me, and all that is left around of me is you.

I have traced the thoughts of your heart and the pulses of your mind and pull them out thread by thread until all that is left is you and me.

I have had all of you all at once and then pieces of you scattered into days after you’re gone so that there is always a piece of you that is part of me. I have had you in all your entirety.

I want you in all your entirety. I want you in all… and I want it bad… and I want it to last… and I…


And I write and erase and…

I do have to start writing about you. And I do write and erase, and write and erase and write and erase or throw it away into trash and dump it away in a quagmire of nothingness.

That’s where it all including the scribe, that matters not, belongs – an absolute oblivion and hollowness.

Before it all meets its ironic fate, I have written innumerable blogs, scores of broken poems, beautiful little stanzas, dirty half a dozen passages, cents of dreamy essays, fairy-tallish stories and spell-binding prose.

Magnificently bewitching, maddening, marvelously magical, magnetic and mesmerizing.

Self-praise may not be a recommendation in the world of sanity. But my dearest one… all that is about you, and all that is about me thinking about you, is majestic beyond bounds. And I need no judge, not at all, without any doubt.

I have to have a means of expression, for the best of intentions, in all your admiration that to you again matters not. All that I do is all I have to do and I do it for myself and nothing more.

I write and annihilate a big assembly of phrases, crush a crowd of courteous clauses and sentence to death an emotional mob of sentences, and I know what I am doing.

At least, it makes me realize where I am heading. What keeps my existence where it belongs is dumping it all away. And I know what I am doing.

Singing an invitation of insanity with the flames I find at your door, I write and erase.

The door that gets farther the closer I move while the flame gets nearer than ever. And the warmth do I savor. But I am not a moth meant to burn and blaze. And cast the flames of your door any blame.

In a losing race as the scribe would put it, the writings and scribe keep draining, dripping through the ink, streaming, flowing before eventually getting sunk, numb and lifeless.

That’s how it works; self-annihilation to be precise.

And it hurts, and it hurts, and it hurts. But still, I write and erase and I write and erase… everything that I am supposed to say… and nothing that I am supposed to say… nothing.


Kimya – into the oblivion

Kimya, oblivious of what was coming next, fell in love and fell in love with, God knows how to explain and/or personify, the inexplicable. The object of her love was brighter and fierier than the sun; grace more than that of the moonlight and charm as good as that of stars. Kimya’s mortal self, in contrast, was as humble as a setting sun, a fast disappearing new moon visible for a quick run and/or stars amidst clouds hiding. Despite a contrast being as shocking one, the setting sun vanishes leaving a hope of rising again, the new moon of becoming full, and the stars of getting rid of the clouds and attaining the similar lost attention. Kimya’s ascent and zenith meant, with the beloved, a perfect union.


Write! Good, bad or trash; that is secondary

As if lost in the wilderness, sitting solitary, counting stars, thinking of things never thought before, overwhelmed with stark dark, in a room no better than a refuge, obsessed with the astounding silence of night, with a pen and paper in hand, headphones rolled over the ears, music in the background, oblivious of what is being listened to, writing in the dark, no idea what, but writing. And, still as if doing nothing!

The pal’s already set to sleep, lights switched off, no wish to turn them on either. For, it feels blithe to be in the dark, everybody loves it; everyone’s in the dark. Some know it, others know not.

I want to write and writing in the dark, without even a second thought. Writing extempore has its own charms. Yes. I want to write, I really do. Should darkness keep me from doing? Never going to let it do. Nothing is going to hold. So, here I am, writing. Writing what? Nothing actually. Funny as it sounds it is. But still writing. Maybe it’s because, want slumber to stay afar. And keeping engaged serves the purpose.

Lo! Just noticed this computer screen. Keyboard lying at an arm’s length. And I want to write, and write in distress of the dark. Type, should I? But I won’t type either. Writing over typing, always. Notwithstanding most of the work lately, I often do with keyboard, still prefer Pen and Paper over Keys and Screen. Especially when want my mind to vomit, to speak my mind, I mean. So, writing in stark dark.

Darkness baffles me, however. It still has its own mysterious mystic magnificence. I have no idea where I am heading but the important thing is I am. Writing, I still am.

Hey wait! Is it a waste of time, when one doesn’t even know what they are doing or where they are heading? Nay, not so.

An utterly unsung and unheard voice echoes which says, everything one does is indeed worth something if nothing. The activity needs to be there, that is all what matters. It nevertheless may sound purposeless for reasons very apparent, but anything involving some activity has latent perquisites, much significant. Action is important, it’s lively. Stagnation is lifeless, tedious as death.

Tonight’s object is to write. Good, bad or trash, that is all secondary.

It is setting off for sweet sojourn that is more important rather than day-dreaming; of flowery paths. Or dreading barriers and bottlenecks, and never even kicking off for the journey.

So here I am, flowing with the wind, at its utter mercy. Where ever it takes, all set to be driven away. Like a leaf that sets itself free; keeps rolling and rustling with the wind; and damn cares about its destiny. Destiny, after all it’s bound to be. Therefore my pal! Ending up somewhere is way better than being nowhere, don’t you feel?

Key to Writing

Key to Writing