The AC breathes metaphors in my life.

It’s all happening and not happening at the same time
Like the near-normal AC temperature in this hotel room

Body fat depleting, brain cells increasing,
Accents developing and arguments changing.

Like the chuk chuk of the Mumbai local,
I go non-stop; the matrix come to life.

Yet, in this whirlwind of hurried changes,
Those moments of metamorphosis go unnoticed.

Like how those treacherous mosquitos devour me
All night, waking me to bruises I have no memory of.

(A foreign situation, I really must confess)
I wish there were a repellent for college.

It’s happening too soon; I’m just 18
But actually, this is all I really wanted.

It’s very confusing; a labyrinth of decisions,
A burning broth of growth; take me away.

Everyday I get up, waiting for the rainbow,
But the howling storm takes its time to sleep.

Still one day, when I’ll open my yawning windows,
The warm sunshine will be here to embrace me.

~~~

Hey lovelies,

I’m so sorry for not posting anything last week. My transition to college is a little tough on me, but I’m confident I’ll be fine. Hopefully, I’ll post more often because my University gives me a LOT to think about. Have a great day today and remember, things are GOING to be fine. Trust yourself.

Yours truly,

Charuvi

My open heart doesn’t want surgery

I felt my rib cage crack through,

A word at a time, it gave way.

My heart poured through then,

To all the magic before me.

I felt that the stuff that filled my heart

Was kin to melted chocolate,

Banana ganache, soft dough

And everything that spoke of

The fragile strength in vulnerability.

I wanted to be in the illusion forever-

The illusion of art and performance

Because, and this is epiphany,

There was nothing more I wanted

Than to be so wholly vulnerable to beauty.

 

“I gave her/him/it/them my heart,”

They say.

But I want to do it all the time.

Poetry is beautiful

Drama is beautiful

Dance is beautiful

Song is beautiful

Because they are what move things in the universe

Somethings that are finally closer to real than magic.

Performance is an open heart

Facing the surprisingly persistent raindrops;

Bracing yourself for the beautiful sunshine.

 

Performance and beauty really should be synonyms.

 

The movie ‘Stuck In Love’ proved to be a great inspiration for this post. It’s a beautiful movie.

The semicolon;

Post dated: 3rd Feb, 2016

It is often that I see how others see me, and think about the past, going over how I would want my future. And in this frequency of thoughts, I once realised how much we’re all worth.

How much of an individual you are, and I am.
How we have capabilities and
potentialities and
sad-times and
failures.

How we all have hope through it all.

We are all certainly faced by pressure, and we live through it all.

We have regrets, excesses, sufferings and doubt

but at the end, we live through it beautifully

Every
Second.

We thrive in this energy of reality. Of now.
No, really! Not the second that you started reading this post. Not the second you started reading this sentence. Only now.

In the semicolon of life that is in whole not 80 years or even 2, it’s in the moment of life that keeps you doing what you’re doing and adding on to it. And in that, there’s no death, only life. Life with a rainbow of sunshine after rainy days-even if that rainbow shies out after an age old winter.

It’s beautiful. Celebrate your semicolon, every second. ❤

 

The storm I hated.

Date of post: 15th Jan

“You know what,”
I typed furiously.
“There is a drop of water that you may see
and I may see
And I will see it,
Yet you will not.”

Only, I didn’t type. It was a thought, blown by the storm of my conscience, to the front of my mind. It was the agitation of a revolt. Though similar to others I had had, this was new at the moment.

And at the moment I felt like fighting. Fighting in the wild sea with everything but the force behind it’s wilderness. I couldn’t find the force, you see. I loved the sea too intensely to see its reality. And it wrecked me. For my love was failing me every minute.

I always thought that I would want to be one of those the sea loved. Those pristine wholesome fish, living in clear water, removed from human lives. Yet somewhere along the lines I learnt to accept my position as the rusted, isolated ship. The ship that was nothing more than one entangled, broken mess on the side.

Oh and how I admired those pristine, wholesome fish. I saw how they charmed the sea. I wished I was them for a minute. But they did make me feel like I was worthless. They made me feel like I was not admired, all those times when the sea forgot I was there.

Still, hear, hear all of the world- I did feel like one of those that the sea loved-when the sea did recognise the bond between. Only recognise I say, not accept or embrace.

So then who am I to blame for the storm between us? The sea, the fish or I?

Maybe I am to blame the mirror that deceived me: my pristine, wholesome self, which was beautiful in it’s own way- just, in a galaxy where I saw a drop of water in all it’s importance, and the sea plainly saw a vast, undefinable blue stretch.

~~~

I had written this story as a metaphor for a relationship that saw no reciprocity from one end. The narrator expresses her angst for she loves someone who doesn’t love her back and wishes that her love could see the storm that she could see-the torture of his loving behaviour.

The day in the life of a fish

“Jumping into the unknown”


I see a blue sea of hope
A clear sea, it is.
The weather seems fine
“Although nature could never be trusted
And neither could these humans”
Just like any other day
We are feeding the babies
Taking care of the old
Grabbing another day to live
Unpredictable yet planned.
Mundane yet exciting, goes our life.

Soon there are thunderclouds of anxiety.
“What if the cyclone-monster venges out on me
For the unforgivable sins of another century?
It would be devastating
Like it had been, a few years ago.
I can’t live that torture again;
Killing another few years,
It would destroy me!”
Cry my fear-stricken tears.

But then nature proves me wrong
“Nature is miraculous” I say,
When I see my family restored
One beam of sunlight at a time.
Our world is illuminated
And I have a moment of gratitude.
“I know this is a big, bad world kiddos,
But if you don’t face challenges,
You’ll never learn”, I hand them their tiffins.
My little round fish look at me
Trying to fit my riddle into their lives.
I round them up and leave for work,
The trick of survival was learnt that day.

Another sea of hope,
Another thundercloud of anxiety,
Another sun of positivity.

“That’s how we fish do it”, she winked at me.

1395316354961

Stripping off my thoughts

1st December:

Being bare is forbidden in this world. If you show a tad bit more of your skin, you are suddenly in disgrace and the world pushes you towards hell with their glaring, accusing eyes.

Till a year ago, I was blind about some of my strongest beliefs-having not thought of them as well. As I become more of a youth by the day, I wonder about the ancient v/s modern clothing controversy that is raging. What really are my thoughts on this?

Well, when I look at this matter I question mindsets. I wonder why it is such a sin to show more skin. Is the world trying to say that clothes define our personality? That we CAN judge a book by its cover and understand every aspect of its plot?

Well, this is what I gather from the mindset of the orthodox-a staring metaphor in the face of humanity.

I believe, and very strongly too, that this controversy is really a metaphor for our fears. We are scared to show the REAL us-to indulge, to pour our hearts out to the rest of the world, or even to a single person. We fear that sharing our deepest feelings, worries, hopes and secrets will make us VULNERABLE.

So now I think, does being vulnerable scare me? And surprisingly I hear my thoughts say ‘No.’

I am so overwhelmed at the change in my opinions over the past year or so.

I now realize that being vulnerable is NOTHING in front of acceptance. What is really lost through vulnerability and dependence in a person who accepts his/her failures and successes? In a person who accepts his/her real truth? Nothing.

Vulnerability is instead a wonderful thing. How can you lose something by being vulnerable when being vulnerable and sharing a part of yourself with others BRINGS you relationships?

So being bare and confidently so, is beautiful.

In my eyes, being bare is the beauty of allowing your world to cradle in someone’s world while being true to your actual truth.
It is not a sin.

Captured emotion

How these events don’t matter,

In a moment of entirety.

How these reasons are irrelevant,

Once they’ve done their bit.

~~~~~~~~~~

How prayers become forgotten thoughts,

When tick-tock doesn’t give anxiety.

How ceremonies are not as important,

When seeing happiness doth vision permit.

~~~~~~~~~~

I stop to think about the rain,

How it lashes out; then falls with beauty.

Soon I see each drop and get amazed,

By how it carries out selfless duty.

~~~~~~~~~~

You might capture, at this point,

That these poetic verses are purposefully lax,

For it is not the candle that actually matters,

But in its heat, the molten wax.