Why I write?

"What is with you and writing serious stuff..what happened to the fun person in you" said my best buddy and I just stopped to think why i write?

I write when my mind is full of unanswered questions.. or unquestioned answers
I write when thoughts are difficult to speak or am being too thoughtless
I write when facebook becomes too public and 'dear diary' too silly
I write when my heart is full and i need to empty it out
I write to create more space to add more memories, feelings, emotions and experience life differently..
I write when someone inspires me to write.. someone stirs the broth in my heart and leaves me with a feeling
I write sometimes to show the world but lot of times to show the one person what i felt..
I write to leave a trail of my self in this big world
Each writing is a thought fermented over a period of time.. thoughts that did not find the right words..feelings that were sweeping me away, making it difficult to place my feet on the ground..
I write to save myself.. Thats why I write

Someone

She went about with her life each day.. hoping he notices her.. hoping he turns around and says you are pretty.. hoping he whispers sweet nothings in the middle of the night, pulling her a little closer and tight..
She went about with her life each day like an ordinary girl.. with dreams in her eyes and hope in her heart..that she too shall be loved someday again.. she too shall feel special.. and she will be his someone..

He went about with his  life each day.. hoping to get a glimpse of her,waiting each day for her to call out his name, for her to laugh at his jokes and smile her dimpled smile
He went about with his life each day.. hoping to get a share of her love, hoping she realises she is special..
hoping she looks at him the way she looks at her someone.. hoping he can be her someone

They talk, joke and go about with their life each day.. each holding a thought unknown to the other.. each hoping to feel different that day.. each hoping to feel special and be someone's someone

Not knowing they were special to someone, they meant a lot to someone,they were loved by someone..
They went about with their life each day not knowing they were someone!

strangers..

We had never met , never known

A stranger to me, yet felt like my own..

Closer than a sister and more accepting than a friend..

Yet we are neither..nor sisters nor friends

Happy being strangers coz we are us..no surnames, no marital status, no baggages..

The only time when we are ourselves and live and talk about I..

The I we forget as soon as we wake up and think about only when we are about to lie..

Dont ask me her name,her age, her marital status..

Strangers we want to be coz we want to be with the I..

Winter Rain

I lean out of the window to feel the water droplets on my face..Not just the rain but the cold winter breeze covers my face.. shiver a little and giggle a lot more..and clutch my tea cup a little tighter..holding on to the warm feeling on the cold winter morning..
A hand taps me on my shoulder handing me my plate of steaming aloo chaat and giggling while making her winter smoke ringlets.. Quickly popping one in my mouth I stick my face out of the window again closing my eyes and stretching my hand out... I hit a glass wall...the water droplets covering the glass but refusing to touch me.. A hand taps on my shoulder and hands me a copy of my next presentation... and without a smile she walks into the cabin... not stopped to look out..
I turn around and see two smiling faces standing there sticking their faces out and clutching their cups tighter.. Their smiles, the giggles, the smoke ringlets and the tea cups..am called in for the review.. I walk into the closed cabin trying to concentrate on the figures on the board..my mind straying back to the two faces behind the wall.. the ones I can see but not touch..till I break the glass wall that separates us..

Waiting...

I sit with you in the same room, reading the newspaper silently..waiting for you to talk to me..

I walk with you in a crowded market...rubbing my hands against yours..waiting for you to hold mine

I lean closer to you when all alone..waiting for you to hug me and kiss me more..

I lie next to you,as close as I can..waiting for you to hold me tight...

Wait!, you say and I stop in a second..waiting you would do the same..

I tell you same things, a number of times...waiting for you to listen in..

I wait each day, I wait each night..

I wait to meet the one I loved who always held me tight..

I wait to hear her talk,to see her smile to listen to me without blinking an eye...

Where did you lose my loved one.. why did you leave her behind..

leaving us like strangers struggling to meet our minds..

All world is a stage

All world is a stage said Shakespeare..Little did I know, he spoke about mine..

So many roles I play that I wish to play Me someday..

Sister, daughter, friend they call me but never in my own skin can I be..

Alls well as long as am with them..coz i know who Iam in relation to them..

In the midst of the night when am all alone, feels like being with a stranger than the soul..

Who am I? I ask the soul.. sister, daughter, friend, girlfriend and many more..

As i remove my make up I look at the stranger.. I will have time for you tomm... I promise with my voice weaker..

One more page has turned in the play of my life with many more lying ahead..

waiting with some new roles as and when the writer said..

Wonder when will I spend a day without any role..just the stranger and me on a stroll..

with whom the world will not be a stage and i just play ME for a change...

The ultimate city..

As soon as I landed the cool breeze hit my face leaving a smile..After a long stay in hot cities where rains only add to chaos than give respite, this city was a welcome change.. I had landed in Mumbai..

Before a Mumbaite starts celebrating this post is surely not about Mumbai.. but my sense of the city..

All my life I was on the other side of the eternal Mumbai-Delhi war..boasting about wide roads in Delhi, the space and how the city does not stink..My first visit to Mumbai was horrible..the city stank, it was humid and crowded and could hardly walk an inch without stepping/bumping someone..but with each subsequent visit..i started liking the city..and with this visit i loved it.. The small shops, the boys getting ready for the dahi handi festival, the local colony friends playing carom at night, the parlour lady talking in typical mumbaiya hindi..i loved it all..but above all i liked the city for its acceptance..

And thats when i realized why people despite struggling to make a living in the city, love it..coz the city is accepting of u...

And as a friend very correctly said "Acceptance is the main thing we all strive for"

It is this hunger for acceptance that drives us all to do what we do.. It forces us to lie, to pretend, to be someone else, to not be happy being who we are, to kill our own wishes, to live for others..

and a city that accepts us provides all that one can ask for-love,warmth,security,happiness,.. and thats the ultimate city.. 'the spirit of mumbai' does not lie in its local trains but in its greater level of acceptance...