Le Beau Ideal

Her beauty is inexplicable. It is beyond words, beyond songs, beyond ballads, beyond poetry and prose, beyond the feeble power of any form of mortal communication.
Beautiful eyes. Big, black, pure eyes, with a hint of conflicting sadness. Eyes that have seen her through situations unmentionable, and yet and keen on embracing every moment with the most glorious of twinkles. Eyes that look at him with insurmountable, insane and incredible love. Eyes that drink him in with their mystique and power to captivate even the most callous of souls. Beautiful eyes.
Delicious lips. Uneven, yet the epitome of perfection. A full, ripe, quivering lower lip and a thin, hardly-there upper one. Lips that talk without speaking, emote without moving. A smile that pierces her eyes, radiating beauty that's almost unbearable.
And that perfectly synchronised dance that her eyes and lips perform together? A stolen glance with a mischievous smile, a caressing gaze with a knowing spreading of her lips. Ah! The sheer magnificence of it could make you cry.
Her uneven, small teeth. The way she presses her lips between them, each time she fails to get away with a prank, arouses you in a way nothing else ever can.
They way her jaw moves oh-so-mildly every time her lips utter melodious words. Her voice. Hypnotising, mesmerising. How it wraps you in endless warmth every time you hear it.
Her skin, with all its unevenness and imperfections, is the embodiment of perfection to you. The freckles, the crinkling the skin around her eyes every time she cringes at something you say, the lifting up of her cheeks every time you plant a kiss upon them, the radiance of it every time a bead of sweat rolls off her forehead.
The way her unruly hair fall around her face. Fall over her eyes, across her delicate forehead, stick to the nape of her neck.....her beautiful, slender neck. The way it sways every time she turns to look at you, the way it arches every time you make love to her, the way it twitches every time you kiss it.
The way the small of her back fits perfectly under your hands. The way the fat around her waist helps you hold on to her tighter.
How her lithe hands play with yours, blessing them with their short-lived moment of grace. You can SEE how perfect that ring you are going to give her is going to look on her right hand.

She is beyond beautiful to you. So intense that you want to cup her in your palms and keep her there forever. Protect her from the gashes this cruel life might inflict on her. Keep her safe in the store of your heart, let her live off you.

She is beyond beautiful to you.. ONLY to you, maybe? Who knows? But then, who even cares?

They were right, weren't they?
Love can't be put into words. Her beauty can't be put into words.
It is beyond words, beyond songs, beyond ballads, beyond poetry....

Destroyed restoration

Pick me. Pick at me. Pick at every part. Pick at every fibre of my being. Pick me. Pick me apart.
Scatter them. Scatter them all on the ground. Scatter them like they mean nothing. Scatter them like they aren't me. Scatter me apart.
Lick them. Lick each one of them. Lick each piece at a time. Lick it off of every emotion to have coursed through me. Lick me apart.
Stomp over them. stomp over all the ghastly pieces. Stomp over the words unspoken, the memories yet to be perfected, the love yet to be immortalised. Stomp over my existence. Stomp me apart.
Redesign them. Redesign each one of them. Redesign them to suit your thoughts, your feelings, your insecurities. Redesign me to be you. Redesign me apart.
Cut through the rotten ones. Cut through the dreams, the aspirations, the moments of pride. Cut through them, stab the fucking life out of them. Cut through me. Cut me apart.
Pick me. Pick me up. Pick up every piece. Pick up every fallen part of me. Pick me together.
Reassemble them. Reassemble the hope, the life, the glint in the eye. Reassemble them to be me. Reassemble me together.
Caress them. Caress every piece. Caress every emotion, every tear, every smile back into them. Caress me. caress me together.
Cater to the bruises you left. Cater to every gashed attempt, every bruised love, every dented success. Cater to me. Cater me together.
Restore me. Restore every piece of me. restore my mistakes, my successes, my insecurities, my strength. Restore me. Restore me together.
Glue me. Glue every fibre of my being back together. Glue me back together to form a perfectly imperfect person. Glue me. Glue me back together.

I am back. I am here, and I am back. I am breathing, and I am back. I am dreaming, and I am back. I am striving, and I am back.

I am back. I am me. Or am I you?
I am back. I am living my life. Or am I living yours?

I am back. I am restored. Or I am destroyed to be you?

Am I you?

Writer's Block go away, come again another day. REALLY. :|

So, I won't count this as a post. It is essentially a desperate attempt at getting rid of the writer's blog that has been plaguing me ever since January now.
This might go from random to boring to plain nonsensical. So please, bear with me.
Also, all the new followers of my blog, thank you for appreciating my blog. :)

NOTE : The paragraphs aren't related in any way whatsoever. It is random rambling at its best. Or worst, depending on how you see it. So don't waste your time trying to establish connections that aren't intended to exist.

I am essentially stuck in a rut of a lot of events presently. What did our humble NCERT call it? Yes, "caught in an ugly middle position". Though this particular phrase always made me grin because of its not-so-holy meaning, this is the only one I could think of. I divulge. Getting back on track, the rut. Yes. School's over, Boards didn't go very well, preparing for an entrance I'm not too sure of and apprehensive about college and its related dimensions. Aren't you just a lil' bit jealous of how perfectly life's fairing for me? :')

So that's the reason behind me writing this post at 4 in the morning, sitting in a corner of my room with the most reliable companions of all times : A steaming mug of coffee and a pair of headphones. Sad life, yes. -shrugs-

Have you ever had that feeling of getting something you weren't too sure of right? Of being awed at how very perfect it turned out to be? How, even with all its oddities and impossibilities, it is quite possibly the most beautiful thing in your otherwise hueless existence?
Amazing, isn't it? :)

If someone asks me to pick three words that best describe me, I think I'll go with love, insecurity and art.
Bizzare combination? Maybe.
But where there's love, there's always this nagging insecurity of losing it, isn't there? It is just that in my case, the insecurity is a bit too pronounced.
And art is love. Love is art.
Music, colours, words, faces, skies, patterns, emotions, fabrics, places. All if this, and more. Art. Love. Insecurity.

You know what calms me like nothing else days? Looking into a child's eyes. The innocence, the purity and the love that resides within them just...HEALS me. I am not a great fan of children mainly because they basically come with self-destruct buttons, but this somehow gets to me. Maybe the child in me? I don't know. But it does.

You know what I REALLY want to do? I want to tie my hair loosely, wear random clothes, carry a beautiful notebook, go off to someplace like Italy, and WRITE. Write away to glory. Write till the voice in my head gets exhausted. Till I've used every word I've ever known. till I've depicted every emotion to have coursed through me. Till I'm so tired that I don't feel tired anymore.
Of course, a little music won't hurt either.
Damien Rice, Birdy, Andrew Belle, Secondhand Serenade, Stateless, Coldplay, The Weepies. The likes, more or less.

I hope this will get the "creative juices flowing". ( Pardon the cliches')
'Cause if this doesn't, God knows what will.

But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo

A dark room, with the faintest gleam of light streaming through the overhead dirty-glassed window. So feeble, it almost looks like it is mourning its own advent. The room reeked of a life gone wrong, an existence gone sour. A musky, heavy smell, which makes you want to crumble onto the floor, a humongous pile of fear and regret and dry tears.

And in one desolate corner of the room, a dead mortal. An unkempt soul, with her knees huddled close to her chest, her hands moving in sleek precision, her eyes wincing with every small movement her bony hands made. Her mute demeanor screamed of unending pain; a scream heard only by those who've suffered an agony of the same degree, if not higher.

The sun shifted in the sky. So did the light streaming in. But as soon as it touched her bare, mucked feet, she scampered deeper into the fort of sorrows she had built all around herself, as if the sunlight was scathing her. A feeble entity, she.

Her being shivered with uncertainty, anguish and a lack of will to live. Her scantily clad frame punished for daring to exist, she didn't bother to cover it up. It was like she basked in the moroseness of her life.

Her hands started moving all the more furiously. As if she couldn't wait to hurt herself more and more. As if the scabs from the previous deliberate injuries just weren't enough. As if the puddle of blood surrounding her wrist was not enough to be taken into consideration. As if running the blade over the gashes repeatedly would take her hopelessness away in SOME twisted way. Make her feel less betrayed by her own self, make the pain go away, make her feel a bit more alive..

You. I. 26/11

I'm not doing this because it is being done everywhere. On FB, twitter and every possible social platform.
I'm not doing this because I want people to know how profoundly it hurt me, how much it shook me up.
I'm doing this simply because I want to. Because it is like a boiling lava inside of me, and its time for it to come out.

26/11. I saw it. You saw it. The whole world saw it.
Saw, and sympathised. Saw, and got worked up. Saw, and demanded for something to be done.

But for me, it was different. I can't explain it. and I'm not saying that you are all cold souls for not feeling it as much as I did. No. It was just...different.

The first time I saw the news flash across the TV screen, I froze. VERY unlike me, for I generally have storng reactions towards anything and everything. I just sat there, unblinking.
I don't have any loved ones in Mumbai. Ones who I'd be scared for, ones whose loss would shatter me.
but it still happened. The hurt. It was almost like a PHYSICAL ailment.
I sat there for a long time, a hollow expression on my face, not wanting to look, but not wanting to look away either.
And then....I broke down. Where it came from, I have NO clue. But I did. Cried like someone close had died.

But someone/something HAD, right ?
Humanity.
Compassion.
Brotherhood.
Peace.
Harmony.
Freedom.
All of this, and more. Blown up to shreds.

IT all happened in a jiffy !
Mothers wailing, children crying and blood everywhere. Agonising, unbelievable pain.
For me. For all of those who were unlucky enough to be in the wrong place in a horridly wrong time.
For thousands of you out there. It gave us goosebumps. Threatened us out of our reverie.

Today. Such an ominous day. A sad, SAD day.

I'm overwhelmed. This post might not be making sense to you. It isn't making any sense to me either.

It is just a venting out exercise.

I pray for all those who were scarred by this incident in one way or the other.

But then, who am I to pray ? Pray to a God I don't believe in ?
Such a hypocrite.

For it is only the YOU in you that matters

Life has its devious ways of getting right back at you. Just when you thought you sifted your happy ending out of a mess of nightmares, another one comes hurtling towards you with invincible might. The question is, does it destroy you, or does it make you stronger ?

Life's anything but fair. you'll have a love gone sour, a friendship crumbled to pieces, admirers turned hostile and a future gone bleak. but you know what hurts the most ? When your own self turns its back on you. THAT is when you hear your heart breaking, your world crumbling down around you, and all the other cliches' you can possibly think of. You were your only hope; your only escape from the harsh realities of the world. You can't give up on yourself !

And yet, it happens. Leaves you shattered, alone to pick up the pieces. End of how you knew life, end of the 'you' in yourself.

The real challenge isn't in dealing with the situation. The real challenge lies in getting yourself back.

Get up, dust yourself and get going ! Your self couldn't have gone too far ! look for it; in every corner of this round world until you find it.

And that union, my friend, is the ultimate bliss of all. :)

I refuse !

Make me the mourner of your tragedy
The executor of your sins
Hear me say this, I refuse to be !
Hear me say this, I refuse to let you win!

A fire mistaken for calm
The calm, for upheaval
As I run away from the nightmares, closer they swarm
Hear me say this, I refuse not to feel !

The tears were all shed for you
(Or so they were thought to be)
As you force me to live life through your tainted view
Hear me say this, I shut my eyes, I refuse to see !

You enter me, my soul exits
The venom of your lust courses through my viens
Hear me say this, I refuse to be the puzzle peice that fits!
Hear me say this, I refuse to let my selfless love be a bane !

Hear me say this, I refuse to be bound by a love so sour
Hear me say this, I refuse to set my chagrin free
Hear me say this, I refuse to let you be in unjust power
Hear me say this, I refuse to let you be ME...