Cold

Don’t know why I am feeling so cold…so lone..as I had felt last September….I don’t want to be numb as always…quite and suffering with the pain…No, I don’t want to give pain to others because they don’t deserve it…the most beautiful people in the world..they can’t tolerate it…

Some days can be boring like this…Sweety must be chatting with her friends…as always..or facebooking…but I am here typing don’t know why I opt for this…writing…..Seems like …I am so habituated to my colleagues…to chat and laugh unnecessarily…backbite about Sweety, and a lot of girly gossips….but what if Sweety bans..it here at office.

I prefer imagination to reality. Coleridge has well said “Reality is dark dream”….Yes.. it is a dark dream…I don’t want to dream a dark dream…really it hurts to know..it hurts to realize which I don’t want to..
Continue reading

Vows !!!!

I left you miles and miles away……

With vows to meet again…..

I try to behold….your image….

In the clouds…I ‘d flown away…

In the waves….I’d sailed …….

Feels like you are here….

In the air…clouds…and waves… Continue reading

Untitled ….

Lights are gone

Life seems

“so dark ”

Dark World !!

I enter

Dark Dream !!

I dream

Scared !!
Continue reading

Deny!! Do I ?

Let the wind open it ….

The door it has closed….

Will the wind be able to open

The door which it has closed….

Same happen in love !!!!! ( ahem !! )

You came as a wind ………….

Locked yourself in “me”

Now, I am being uncontrolled….

Can you bring me back to “control”

I deny my “eyes” Continue reading

Bloods that flows in veins

(This is my another try in fiction this is a female’s story, ofcourse fictional one but trying to potray the reality of society the otherside of society , male and female relationship….nothing related to personal lives of anyone )

The story is updated…

Actually while thinking to write this story I remember the legendary story of Pashuram, who is supposed to the incarnation of Lord Bishnu. Pashuram who cut his mother into two halves just obeying the order of his father, Jamadagni Rishi….

The crime was she was late to bring water because she watched the gods with their wives playing in the water……wondering about herself and the Rishi her husband…

Here it goes……………………….

Shika, swings in her swing that Drishya hung in their terrace four years ago that is rusty now. Shika loves it as always. Feelis it like it were four years ago, but she is alone today unlike yesterday and day before yesterday…like the previous year and the previous one.

Remembers the days when they used to spend hours swinging in it like Radha and Krishna. They were in deep love and it was love that determined everything. Those were the begning days of their blissful life. The life that Shika loved it unlike anything. The like that she wants now too.

“Madam” …..tea here, says Kamala, the maid in the house.

“Put it there cant you see I am busy here”, says Shika. ( But what she is busy in …thinks Kamala )

She is gazing at her N75 mobile phone, which was gifted by Drishya before last two years. She wants call, wants to hear the lovely voice that she only knows how much she longs for it. Her burning passion in the veins..the hot blood that are flowing in her veins. The eyes are becoming red and red. The heat of sun is so less than the heat that is burning inside her. But does anyone know this, does Drishya knows this….that that..

Drishya, has forgotten to call her…and that hurts her more and more.

(She picks the tea cup that is left by Kamala but throws it away immediately. Runs away in her room and closes the door.)

 Kamala hurriedly  calls Drishya and informs that madam has again got an “attack”.  “Leave her as she is…let her do what she can…”,Drishya says.

Kamala then tries to convince Shika that Sir, has called her and asked about her. But would Shikha believe….After an hour she opens the door…finds Kamala beside the door …Kamala gives her pills recomended by Doctor…that makes Shika immediately sleep.

Would she like to sleep alone……

Shika wokes up finds Biwas has arrived from his school . Its few days that he has been admitted to the kindergarten school. Biwas wants to speak with his mother…but Mother…Mother..she doesn’t preserves any feelings of motherhood…Does she has the feelings that makes her feel something female…

Since the last conception she is sleeping alone and its been three years.  This is known by ony two , Shika and Drishya. They sleep together, separated by the breathing but…they are not together by their feelings…Don’t know why Drishya has lost the feelings but would Shikha forget…those especial hours…

Drishya, see do I look beautiful in this pink sari  I am going to wear this today…in Sunaina’s engagement…I must say she would be looking more and more beautiful…

“Well, ask your heart…and you are no more beautiful”, says Drishya.

The passion fades away again….Shika throws away…the Sari..but mandatory is she needs to go there at the party…

Shika, wears another sari..and went with Drishya and Biwas in Sunaina’s engagement.

Drishya, has put his arm over her..while walking..Shika feels wow…says I think I look more beautiful in this one..Drishya is catching her hand…others are seeing them..everyone is seeing them.

Wow…what a nice couple….she hears comment…

Sunaina says that “Shika wow you look beautiful with Drishya like this..”

Are they beautiful couple…she asks herself several times in the party.

Shika hears..Drishya saying how beautiful his wife is, how much he loves her..and how much good wife she is…

Shika is feeling the blood moving in her veins passionately…and she suddenly charms up….The passion is in her eyes…her heart beating faster and faster…..the trembling lips..the palpitating heart…the tearful eyes….

…………………………

They arrive home…Biwas went with Kamala….

They went to their room…..Drishya..throws her in bed….pulls her hair…beats her in her belly…doesn’t lets her to shout..in help…pulls her hair…Shika wonders…was the party dream…a sweet dream…She is unable to distinguish between the moment before and after.

Where the passion flows now??…she is given the doses of sleeping tablets now…recommended by Drishya…

Would Shika be able to think anything….

( The story would be completed in next post )

Crimson Joy

Crimson Joy…

Let me feel ,

No please don’t kill…

The invisible worm..

Let me live

Let me feel

The invisible worm…

Please don’t kill

Renaissance…

I can die but I cannot be defeated. So I am here reviving myself my creator. Renassiance was waiting for me or I was waiting for renaissance. Here I am reviving my self, my sentiments and my emotions and truly saying me myself, the true sweta.

Renaissance means revival of Grek art and culture in England after the dark middle age. Renaissance hearladed the birth of the new age in Europe and so it tolled the death bell of middle ages and brought a new era of bright hopes and rosy aspirations.

Here I am reviving my trueself my own dead feelings and emotions which the creator had snatched a long before. The nascent me was left like the monster in Mary Shelly’s Frankenstein and thus I am here going to have renaissance of myself. Cobwebs of ignorance and innocence  which had binded me like anything, I am here clearing off them all and here I am happy even it pains so much because I am breaking the cycle in which I was moving. Yes, creator I am having renaissance of myself.

I am tolling a death bell to the sentiments, emotions, thoughts which were like cobwebs and I am sweeping them away. Yes I can and I will do this. 

This blog is not so coward that it will suicide just because its creator had left it unbaptized. Hear me I have baptized myself and I am here with renaissance now.

Yes, with the same zeal and same rosy aspirations that I had before, I am reviving them all.

I am here with the new hopes of survival like Pandora…Everything was dead but their was hope at last. The same hope has made this possible. Hope, hope and hope till it comes true. I did the same thanks to xpress..thank you a lot..For being the one of the reasons for my revival. Thanks for regarding me as promising. I hope you would not mind anything written over here.

Truly, I can die but I can never be defeated that is why here I am undefeated. I am here with the glory of Victory which is making me feel glorified. The rosy aspirations…the revival…the beating of this heart..the eyes moist so much moist…ever ever ever…Creator …I am alive…with the victory in my hand….Yes I have won…

P.S. Renaissance…the revival