“Silence everyone” // Loneliness.

Deep, dark, deafening silence hovers around me-

Next to the hair on my arms, standing upright-

Just like visions in the eyes of cataract patients,

Stopping the clock.

In this wholesome emptiness, my heartbeats

f r e e z e .

 

It is so silent in this big town of little people.

 

I turn back to school days of “silence please”

And my veins rush with blood oh

How was there a dire need for what

Now carves homes out of nothingness

 

I see hollows of abysses in the holes of my room

I wish rats would house or

vultures would feast because

These spaces have housed inside

the wholesomeness

that I

once

was.

 

Silence permeates through wall and skin.

Silence permeates through skin

and

Walls keep breaking down before my eyes.

Stop them before I carve my own kind of sweet hell.

stop them.

please.

~~~

To everyone out there: I am okay.

In a train of thoughts I tracked through what silence could mean for some particular characters in my head and that simply took a dark turn. I really enjoyed discovering the topic of silence through this poem today and I would want to do more of these soon. Sorry for posting after so long. I want to post more often this summer. See you soon!

Cheeky treasures in goodbye

Go ahead, I won’t resist.

Hit at me with all you have

Emotion pouring through a hole on your side

Not a leakage, darling.

Embrace me with the warmth of cheeks grazing

And us holding each other for just a second longer.

Say what you could never tell me with eyes confessing.

Just a second longer,

Caress me with your gentle love

Until again, I am awed.

Gaze at me endlessly like the sunflower

Because the minute you close your eyes,

It is time to turn away.

Some things were never meant to be put in words

But we said them today

Oops and regret built up, sure,

But in the moment we were gold

A little crazy contained inside

And a lot more crazy without.

Without is such a heartbreaking word

Because I have never said this but

I fear being without

Why, should it ever be applied,

You may forget and my without may never become within again.

You live in the breeze going by in July

But I hope it doesn’t take you away from me.

Reach out with a hand and I’ll climb with you

Let me climb.

And so I climb.

Away from whom I want discover

The person I desire to swim inside of.

Some treasures aren’t meant for now

But damn are they priceless.

Thoughts before a journey

Hey beautiful,

Today, I just want to talk about life, unlike my usual posts here. It’s pretty queer, the situation. My life is going pretty good, and some might even say that it’s amazing but I don’t feel amazing, lately. I think it’s the mixed emotion of feeling nostalgic and a little scared and excited and useless.

Let me give you some backstory here. I am 18 years old, and going to move to my college’s residential campus in 22 days. I have never lived away from home, without my parents for longer than a week so the mere situation freaks me out. I’m really looking forward to the entire independence of it all, but the nervousness right now is like the 2 minutes before a performance.

I have got to know of such amazing people that will be at college so it is really exciting but then again, will I make a good group of friends? Then again, is having a group of friends more important than having many, different friends like I have had till now? I don’t know.

The concept of me living on my own interests me because at home, I’m a messy person and those who suffer from this are really only my family;I don’t mind the mess as long as I clean it soon enough. Will this magically change once I’m in college and my frustrated grandmother doesn’t clean up my bed? I don’t know.
Yesterday, I went to buy some stuff for college and amidst the soap holder and cleaning brush, the shopkeeper asked me if I wanted a rolling pin to make dough, for rotiI felt like I was settling down in a new house or something. “No, OF COURSE not, I don’t need a rolling pin. I’m going to college, not settling down,” I told him, half-scared, half-amused.

Apart from the social factor of living somewhere away from home, the academics in my college excites me. Being the competitive person I am, I’m waiting to see the classroom atmosphere of my college. Yet, I have this lingering debate in my head-what if I’m not good enough for it, or even to compete with it? What if my mental faculties have a dead end somewhere? I rebuttal this with my belief that if really want to do well at something, I will never really give up. Hopefully, this belief stays in those moments of doubt.

I also feel a little useless at this point because I wish I did more with my time. Vacations are “meant” for chilling out but really, what am I doing with these moments of my life when I’m binge-watching Community and eating Chocos till 3 in the morning? I’m doing a few projects but I feel like I’m not doing enough. Maybe the solution is that I need to start journaling again. Yeah I need to do that.

So this is where I am at, standing at the edge of my bed, looking at my unopened empty suitcase, waiting to see if I’m ready to take on the excitement and leave the nervousness for a few days before I leave. Holding one emotion of hope for a good journey sounds like a good idea for me right now.

Yeah, I think I will open my cupboard and start filling the suitcase now.

Until next time,
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 Crying Baby’s Wail

So I took up The Great Indian Poetry Challenge and wrote a poem in one hour on ‘loud sounds’ (randomly picked topic). Here is my piece in word and video!

I enter the bazaar,
An image of confusion,
Bodies touching like
It’s no one’s business.
Hands clutching purses
For fear of witness.
And to top it all,
That one baby wailing
In Satan’s truest form.

Absolutely resolute in it’s desire to annoy, the baby left me…grateful.
Let me explain.

Before it’s cry, I had only heard
The dukaandar‘s yelling,
The cafe blaring,
And the men daring
In their attempt to *impress*,
So they say.

I had only heard
The busy butchers,
The screams for divine interference
The hagglings for notes of worth,
Again and again and again.
I had only heard the tired tinkling of bells,
The casual defeat in “Yeah, oh well…”s

Then I heard the baby in all its annoying worth.
Surprisingly, it brought me to other things.

I noticed little boys objectify,
Little girls pacify,
And fervently-
Like they’d grasped their roles in this clumsy world.
I heard elders dominate
And sadhus recreate
For they thought they could
Fake their way through innocence.

I heard impatient sirens of help
From this chaotic place
That just seemed capable of a yelp.
I heard the same loud murmurs of
Cowards and hollow individuals,
And those who long since needed to be dethroned.

I heard it all in this small bazaar and all that it could be expressed in,
Metaphorically,
Was a crying baby’s wail-baar baar.

Here is the video!

Days like this.

Hey beautiful,

I met my best friends today but it felt like something different. It felt like we peeled back another layer between us. We watched an unconventional movie and everyone laughed- like they’d understood what had passed and moved on with the future. How big of a thing that is, I hope they’d measured. We’d grown together in that time-as people in a relationship.

Looking back at our personalities, it’s amazing that we can grow together. There are some things uncomfortable but we’re getting past that. We’re getting past habits and expressions of love and schedules. We’re helping each other out and I’m grateful for that kind of a relationship.

I went with one of them to the beach after and watched the waves crash while talking about dreams. We spoke about what we’re doing and what we want to do. We talked about nature, out of all the pure things to talk about. The day altogether honestly felt like it had slept on a soft cloud gently. It felt beautiful.

Later, I went home and laughingly removed the sand from my shoes. I kept the shoes back on the stand but on another day soon, I’ll find the sand of my memories, preciously remove them from my present and keep myself ready for another beautiful day, embedded in my future.

Thank you for these memories.

Yours,
Charuvi.

13268420_1223962377615077_5154681394255184099_o
Me, Jahanvi and Sanjukta (from the right) at an event a few days a week ago!

Beauty and rains

Beauty.

Beauty of the mind,

Of the soul,

Of nature,

And of the little things

Your touch, one kind gesture,

A warm smile,a heartfelt apology.

 

This beauty-so real in every second, every moment, every ounce of the air we breathe-captivates me.

It urges me to be alive.

Away from the aspects of life that make me close my eyes, I’m grateful to be alive.

 

Eyes open, senses heightened, woes are forgotten and the rest of life seems assured.

And the feeling that comes with experiencing first rains is unimaginable

It is beyond the ‘I feel at peace’

It is beyond expressions and mere amateur words.

If is like the birth of a baby, the realization of

A first success or the turn of a century.

It’s the pride in being,

In living and feeling.

It’s the caramel-enveloping sound of symphonies.

It’s so much and more

Yet, it’s  nothing simpler than the most intimate thing- LIFE.

beautiful-Rain-Photography