The Strength of Weakness

She gave me the A4 size paper with the heading on it written in bold letters Women-Power.

'And as the title tells, you have to write something on 'Power', 'Strength' and all such craps that shows the strong feminine side you know,' she was narrating me whole the story of Power-play.

'The way those women sustained their hopes, seek their way ahead and make their life more strong kind of things and this is how our story will go- A Power-Puff play,' she grinned and  moved out of my room and left me back with my thoughts.

She is the editor of the magazine I write for. She always got hold of me with the plot and narrated the whole stuff she wanted to get out of me.

'You need to present the women-power in much more bolder way OK,' she had just said.

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End of it..."The Story"

It was raining heavily when we were having that coffee. She had not spoken a bit from the time she entered my room. She just sat staring outside the window and I sat seeing her, silence surrounded our being.

'Before a story starts again, I felt the old ones should end,' she broke the silence suddenly. 'Closing the chapters had never been that easy you know, cause there's always a new story to tell, be the pages be old. Moreover, the so-called old ones are so close to your heart, that you dun jus wanna let them go.'

She stopped, sighed for a while, looked at me and then started saying again,'And yeah they do reveal and come up with some new insights every time you get through those old pages…But ends are always ends -better for everyone I guess. You can't take the dead sculpos with you for long,' she was saying.

She always narrated things in this way I thought to myself,with some figures, with the anecdotes and with those some parts/ plays/

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'She' My friend- II

I was just sitting and playing with my dog when she entered inside. As usual she moved on with the pace of the cat and I  couldn't feel of anyone else's presence, other than me in the room. It was my dog, who lovingly moved towards her wagging its tail. Wow, it was 'She'-my friend, how much had I longed to see her and there she was before me.

Starting with the Hello-Hi we got into having chit-chat over the ongoing tits-bits.

"Sometime its the same thing/ same moments/ same place but you get a no-way out just getting your head along the same sort of businesses and that's it how it moves along,' she abruptly said in a wired tone as if she had been rehearsing these dialogues from a long time.

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Without yoU !!

You,

Without yoU at this end

At this place

Just your thoughts

Just your words

Moves around me

Hovers me

I,

Try to conceal

Try to convince

Disastrous those feelings sometimes

Devastating my being

Deranging the situation

at times

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What If ??

Just a thought..sometime some weird sometimes creative, sometimes this and sometime that, Ahh!! just as they are..<thoughts> ..they just take you to a nowhere situation at times.

I sometime really wish if only I wouldnot be thinking so much. It would have been lot better not be a thought box. May be then I would get into some kind of peace and more of solace, I guess.

But nay I knew it won't happen.

As if things wanted to be as such - may be things were better on as such, a part of mind thought. But even then I didnot get into a right track, a right answer. And I know until I get into some concrete way out I will be rambling around with these thoughts mugging in ma mind.

Just again a thought popped in -- What if the story comes to an end ??

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'Me' The Unknown !!

The unknown me

The naïve me

Attaching to the unknown

Getting to get the unfounded

Confused, strong headed

Bewildered and thirsty again

Wish to get out of the cravings, the crying

But again entrapped in there

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The Wounded Soul !!

The wounded soul

The dearth way

The sickness in the feels

Ah!! Feels me why is it so

Sighs me... uhh cries me

And again Yuk!! The same condition

What if things would have been better

what if things were not the same

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The Melancholic SMILE..!!

He,

always smiling

always happy

thought we

His,

sadness never considered

never thought of

He,

forgot giggling

at times sniveled

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Narcissism Vs Admiration

When the debate of narcissism goes on around and the blame-game on social networks is always at heavy toll, I remembered the prologue of one of my favorite books "The Alchemist" and felt like sharing;

The alchemist picked up a book that someone in the caravan had brought. Leafing through the pages, he found a story about Narcissus.

The alchemist knew the legend of Narcissus, a youth who knelt daily beside a lake to contemplate his own beauty. He was so fascinated by himself that, one morning, he fell into the lake and drowned. At the spot where he fell, a flower was born, which was called the narcissus.

But this was not how the author of the book ended the story.

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