Rewind

Let me be a child today.

I need a bucket

full of innocence

and

desperation

to walk ahead,

having no doubts..

where I'm heading to,

and where should I stop.

Allow me, to be a child today.

Deprive me of the wisdom

of worldly manners

and quickly,

like a snap

break this reality into shards.

Yes, I'm a child today.

Tell the world,

I'll get a tomorrow

to grow up

and to talk mature,

the way it wants.

Or if tomorrow doesn't

show up

this happy child,

would be glad

to die

young.
________

Be Breathless Till You Find Me

Perhaps
you mistook me, Sir.
I do not reside in the echoes
or debris of the past.
I do not flicker with the city lights,
nor do I rest amidst the seven sins.
I am the unquenchable thirst,
prodding you to begin
     the journey
which shall end within.
______

Marigold

settled gracefully

on the bed of marigold

a wasp rubs its legs

____

Traditional 5-7-5 pattern.

Diwali :)

Just how happy this corner looks.. :)

Season of blinding lights, candles and diyas, festivity, deafening noise of chakri aur hawaai, bright colors..rangoli, traditional dresses, feeling pretty, mehndi, its intoxicating smell, unfettered happiness, family get togethers, and ah.. Kaju ki barfi!

In a nutshell, Diwali is here.

Yay!

Wish you all a very Happy Diwali.

And that pretty picture was clicked by me. Thank you!

_______

Summertime sadness- Lana Del Rey

This sexy number is my current love.

A Passenger.

The morning dew awaits you all night

Put your bare feet down, will you?

A gazillion stars have silence to share

Look up for a while, will you?

Tangible dreams are strewn across the lazy mind

Tie them in a knot, will you?

Brush off the fear of morbid existence.

Pace forward at your own cadence

Be a passenger, set off on a journey.

And meet me someday,

Under the mistletoe, will you?!

For I have outshone the glint of dew

For I have rested in silence of the stars

For I am a passenger,

I carry my tangible dreams

Trail my path,

And I will be your harbinger.

_____

Black

hemmed within the shell

of blackness, complete blackness

   I see silent light

like a hermit's solitude

hovering in a cocoon

_____

This is my first attempt at Tanka.

Like Haiku, it is also a Japanese form of poetry but a lot older in terms of origin. It has five lines extending up to 31 syllables in a pattern of 5-7-5-7-7.

To learn something new on your own, is happiness.

Sneaking Around the Corner, Winter?

Image Source: weheartit

Light

shivers

of winter

crawling up in

a slender motion,

as I snuggle deeper

along tired creases of

ivory sheet. A new day breaks,

brimming with morning blues, hazy dreams.

______

ACs have stopped being a necessity, fans are just perfect..no goosebumps nothing, morning showers now give nth chills and shivers, having water straight out of the fridge has stopped being the easiest thing and yes, the mood of festivities and celebrations is spreading happiness everywhere.

Wow..I smell winters, finally! :)

About the poem:

This is a reverse nonet.

A regular Nonet is a nine line poem which has nine syllables in the first line, eight in the second, seven in the third...and ends with one syllable in the ninth line.

My first nonet was published here.

P.S: Did you notice a new page on Mirage? No? Scroll up a little..that's it...there: Published Work

Yuhooooooooooo! xD

The Lunch Box: Spoilers Alert.

While returning from the cinema hall today in the evening, my mind jostled in a haphazard stream of thoughts. One moment, I shared the experience with my friends on Whatsapp like how much I loved the movie, its story line, the characters and their unparalleled acting and in the next, I stepped into an oblivion state where I just wanted to contemplate, refusing to get distracted by the presence of a slender old man, murmuring something incessantly and begging for money at the traffic signal or by those little kids offering a stick of rose or sometimes, just their desperate needy look, or even by the light drizzle, highlighted through the head lights of numerous vehicles.
Amidst the noise of a monotonous rushing life, I sat there in an auto, stared into space, in the darkness hovering behind the street lights...in an oblivion state, wiped off irrelevant fragmented thoughts and brooded over the beautiful thing I watched. That which made me calm, relaxed even when I was stuck in the middle of Delhi traffic.

The moment I walked out of the movie hall, I knew I was going to write about it on Mirage. But what? Certainly not a review. I'm not really good at reviewing things. I have realized this lately. Moreover, I believe that this movie deserves something better than just a plain two-line review. It was moving, undoubtedly but what was that one thing, if you may ask, that made it so special for me?

The movie was real. Very real! The narration...how randomly beautiful it was. The part where the male lead writes about the reason why he spent the previous night watching his late wife's favorite TV show, right there, all I wanted was to keep listening to the remarkable narration. I felt I became was a part of the story. That small apartment with pale walls, the narrow passage where clothes hung on a string, the dining table where the mother secretly read those letters, the kitchen where she cooked delicacies...I lived there. That little girl with two pigtails, jumping carefully across the big puddle to avoid muck on her neat school dress and turning back to wave goodbye to her mother...I was her. I so was! Then, I became her mother...a simple housewife, essaying to woe her husband by making delicious lunch for him but ending up discovering the emotions she always longed for, in her friendship with an old man. The old man who devoured various dishes made by her. And it was all because of a wrongly delivered lunch box or perhaps, rightly received.

There is not a good, satisfying reason to convince that I was able to connect with the main characters but somewhere beneath the story line, realism of the movie struck me more than anything else and made the experience even more fantastic. It was warm and comforting. Yes! Comforting. There was a settling charm in the story which made me feel at ease, kept me intact and gripped till the end. Till that subtle happy end.

Honestly, I don't remember the last time I watched a movie which had such an impact on me...which made me write a long blog post. But I guess, this is the reason why I cherish watching The Lunch Box.

An excellent movie.
Indeed!
______

In other news, I am leaving for a three day holiday with my cousins to Lansdowne, Uttarakhand, this weekend. Apart from the regular holiday stuff, I shall be carrying a brand new Monopoly. Yes, that super awesome board game which consumed hundreds of hours of our adorable childhood.
:D

Pretty excited, I am. Yay!

A September Evening

A gorgeous feeling of happiness is racing up the veins as I flip through some old pictures. Looking at my small, geeky face, hair tied back at the nape of the neck, a few strands falling casually on the temple, toothy smile, flashing broken front teeth and striking a random pose. How innocently pretty I look even though I am in a pair of blue bell bottom jeans buttoned up at high waist.

The weather outside makes the moment even more beckoning. Streets are sublimely soaked up in the last rain this monsoon. Black clouds growling as they float past those huge trees across the road, which are smoothly performing a not so coordinated waltz. I see darkness crawling up stealthily in my room as I sit with a bunch of photo albums on my lap and flip through them, caressing a subtle, faint smile. My mind is laden with a bundle of anecdotes and incidents...moments of pristine joy, flashing every second. They oscillate rhythmically creating a fine rhapsody which I could play on forever and never get tired of.

And then, the faint curve turns into a wide smile as this photograph comes up, reveling a fragment of me which had vanished eons ago.

It is a picture of my old, grey colored study table on which I had beautifully doodled so many things.

:)

Losing some shreds
On the graveled path
Of being a woman, a lady
I hear her whisper,
lingering loosely
along the lines of faded yesterday.

I watch her impression..
Her fragmented laughter
grow deep in my skin,
Gradually rebuilding
cryptic patterns
of abandoned love,
slyly calling out my name
in a familiar voice..
Of the novice little girl
I once was.
And then effortlessly
bridging the gap
between two tangents,
my past..
and her present.

______

Prompt: Wilted

hazy sunshine

brimming over the

wilted daisies

_______

4-5-4 pattern

Written for: Haiku Heights