Love, we don’t feel.

Little Aarib, made a birthday card for me, with his own little hands. He was more excited than me for my birthday.


Was I happy with his little gesture of love? Being honest, I was overwhelmed for few seconds but after that sadness took over me because I was still waiting for a birthday wish from my ex. The guy who left me, when I was failing in my life. The guy for whom I did everything, even broke my principles and put my reputation at stake.

My family organized a surprise birthday party for me. I was pretentiously glee at that moment but still obsessing over how I had been dumped by my ex.

My Best friend wished me on my birthday, her words left me in tears, those words were pregnant with care and unconditional love. The friend, who never left me and boosted my morale at every step of my life. But, I was again shedding tears for him and his deprivation of me and myself.

Happy birthday beautiful ❤❤
You’re the best and you’ve a heart of gold, if people don’t understand that, it’s their problem not yours because my baby is flawless and you need let go of past because best things are waiting 🙂

I love you ❤❤


My bibliophile friend, Safa was overjoyed on my birthday. She walked me down the memory lane by sharing the letter that I wrote to her when I was 10 years old. That moment was the defining moment of my life, that changed my thoughts entirely. I buried that faithless and liar guy in the grave, smoothed by his own lies. I was a fool to cry over his memories and words.

19989768_851939424969791_9046073013735950948_n They say when a man makes you laugh while you’re crying, is the man you should always keep in your life. For me, that man is my father, who has raised me like a son and he still believes in me. My mother, who always assures me that I can achieve everything in my life. My best friend, who tells me that I am beautiful and loyal. My bibliophile friend, who shows me, her fresh drafts and book reviews exclusively. And how we discuss books without gazing at the clock.

My college and university life friends, (my lifelines actually) still count on me, they read my poems and love my sketches. I love them all and I am grateful for all the positivity and affection, that they sprinkle on me every day.

I want these people in my life. Not the ones, who tried to cut my wings and burn me. I am killing the fantasies of a boy’s cozy arms and his laughs. I am going to love my people and my love will thrive for them in every passing second.

I know my ex is still posting his pictures all over the social media with captions like “perfectionist” and “found peace”. I won’t brag here by calling myself a perfect girlfriend material but yes, I care for those, whom I let to stay in my heart. I have Orthodox views and I just can not stand the concept of modern fetish love.  I love myself with all my imperfections and for those, who try to target my self-esteem, I wish them a safe aboard.

Now I am finally getting myself to know that life is beautiful with all its ups and downs.Man can not live in a picture forever. We have to break over and over again so that we can know how beautifully our shattered pieces can gleam.

There is so much love around us but only if we can sense that love or stop begging for a selfish person’s love.One can not be positive and strong all the time but one also can not act fragile forever. Even a prisoner yearns for the sun in a dark dungeon.



The time is tough,

jumbled thoughts,

mumbled desires.

Memories of few

glories I had once


Moments of ecstasy I had had 

once felt.

In those moments, I felt whole.

Few lies, I knew about from 

the onset. 

Got seduced by them and truth

got mutilated.

I disturbed the natural balance. 

I hid myself from God,

little did I know,

God sent him to 

shatter me. 

He broke the perfect


Scarlet color seeped through

every stroke of brush.

The scenerey wasn’t devoid

of colors though. 

Those colors weren’t mine colors.

Fate created some horrid Art.

Abstractions did by Agony.

There was a soul in their.

Still clinging to the rotten


That rotten flesh was mine.

Apparently I was alive,

something inside me was 


I was breathing than why did

I feel dead at that time ?

My eyes still had light,

but that wasn’t my light.

Deconstructors departed,

but they gave Art, disfiguration.


While I am writing this blog post, I can see the Heading in bold, demanding for a Title, a justification, a reason or few words to summarize the lines I want to write. I can’t think of a title or am I trying to save my remaining strength and dignity by merely writing some incoherent lines, that would just add to the frustration of the reader? My words are just like me, perplexed and frustrating.

I didn’t nurture my perplexed state and I wasn’t a born frustrated person. I have been ensnared in this trap, over the years, like every other person walking on this earth, reading quotes, in a constant state of fighting with his brain and enduring the pain of his tensed nerves.

Optimistic, optimism and strong, I have never been a part of this tribe. Since my childhood, I have always cherished in the company of only one massive group, “the underestimating machine”, yes, I have always underestimated myself, since then, all the successes I have bagged to till this date is actually the working of God and after him Almighty, it is Art. Proving my fragile self to my mind and soul.

I dreamt for one thing, like the Protagonist of Paulo Coelho’s Novel “Eleven Minutes”, love, never ending selfless love. This dream is still a dream and even if Reality tries to do justice to it, Fate intervenes and all I get to hear are some excuses, blames and apologies. They close the door so hardly and harshly, that my soul shrieks and my feelings shiver. I blame myself for the damage done to myself by myself. I know, these paragraphs might be frustrating you out but that’s how I have become now. I have so many secrets and some of them have to be carried towards my grave. My insecurities, my complexes, the idea of finding a safe shelter between this temporary World and the never ending life of Hereafter. My mind is constantly dwindling between the idea of a saint or a sinner and where will I finally tread. Heaven’s too pure for me and my sins are worst than the gravest of sins ever done on this earth. I am perplexed from head to toe and likewise frustrated too. I can never stop my tongue from uttering baseless, senseless harsh words and once I have spoken them, I can never terminate my mind from thinking, how badly I hurt others and I have reserved a place for me in Hell, inside the burning coals, thorns and two forked insects.

I don’t know how to act normal and sound. One rejection made life horrible for me, then rejections continued. I can’t close the doors to my heart, I am a human too. A friggin human, who has been cursed with a heart, few feelings, and a too thinkable mind. Who feels for them but not for myself. Even my body isn’t mine. I know my Creator and my Sustainer isn’t a tyrant and a cruel master to throw me in the hell fire, If I just skip a prayer . But my mind tells me, a sinner can’t do this, what if your hidden sins get exposed, where would you go? Earth will not accept you and Skies will look down upon you, you’re a sinner. You let your lovers pollute you, you let them misuse you, cut your body, that pieces of your filthy body with iron bars where they touched you. But I am not even capable of doing this. I go everywhere with a battle inside my head, I write verses, I write prose to get some relief but mind says you’re a terrible writer because you have to look for every word and you double check every error.

Rejection, alone couldn’t make me the terrible me, my rejection of myself played the massive part in my rejection too. I abhor someone approaching me with care and prayers. I hate concerns and above all, I hate being bothered by anyone. I dread humans, I dread Love and I am overburdened by my tangled mind and thorny tongue.