The misperception

We’re living in a world where we, as a part of this generation, are the major victims of misperceptions. Misperceptions about what we think, what we wear, what we say, what we like, whom we love, and how we live. We are judged. We are blamed. We are looked down at. We are the wrong ones according to the so called “intelligent” and “sane” people.

But, little do they know that it took a lot of art to create someone like us.

We are bold, hence rude. We are loud, hence undisciplined. We are not religious, hence disrespectful. We are unsure, hence we are weird. We stand for the right, hence we don’t know what love is. It doesn’t always have to be the straight path towards the right life. We choose to take a different route towards the life we wish for us.

Why do we have to give an explanation for all that we are and all that we do. Why does the society misunderstand us as the irresponsible, carefree, and naive ones? Why are we expected to be what our parents were like? Why can’t we just be ourselves and still be a part of this “society”?

Why am I told which clothes to wear and which not? Is it a crime if I choose I put on what I like and not what others will be pleased to see me in? To the sane ones, I say, talk to us. Get to know what we think, before you reach the conclusion that ‘Oh! She’s wearing shorts! Shameless! No respect for anyone.’ Our clothes don’t define our thoughts, do they?

It’s OK if some of us don’t believe in God. But that doesn’t mean we disrespect your belief towards God. No! We only choose to not believe in someone whom we haven’t seen in real. We stand for what we believe. And, there’s nothing wrong in it, right!?

We talk about sex and sexual topics openly. We’re open when it comes to talking about our monthly cycles. We do not feel ashamed of having conversations about them because they are important parts of every one’s life. It’s not about being blunt or mannerless; it’s about being vocal about everything we think is right.

What if a girl has been with more than 5 boys!? Of course, you’re ought to judge her for that. Of course, you’ll think that her character is bad. Of course you’ll say, “These kids of this generation. They don’t understand. They are so unsure about things that they do such stupidities and then parents have to listen for what these pests do.” But, thinking of it the other way round, maybe we’re so sure about what we want that we are not ready to settle for what is readily served on our plates.

We’re not here to say that the thought, which you’ve been living with, is wrong. We’re only here to bring a freshness to every thing that we come across. We, as a part of this generation, don’t say that rituals should not followed. They should be. But, only when their existence convince your heart and mind. We don’t mean to oppose what you say. Rather, we only want to know why we should do it. For us, money is important, as it is for everyone else. But, a part of us is not completely craving for only money. We need adventure. We need happiness. We need challenges to make every day exciting. We need a bit of craziness that would drag us away from the regular bits.

Maybe we’re in search of something. Something beautiful, something artistic, something too pure to be called our’s. And in search of that one thing, we’re running, tumbling, falling, drowning, fumbling, screaming, and spelling words that prick our hearts. And then blooms the misperceptions about us, as a part of this generation.



You’re flawed!

You’re flawed.

You’re flawed by the bits and pieces that make you who you are in a very distinctive way. You’re flawed by your voice, your habits, your anger, and all your little things.

You’re flawed so beautifully that all of your flaws manage to steal my heart every time you goof up in something.

You’re flawed so perfectly that your imperfections look quite compatible to mine, and they seem to make a good match.

You’re flawed so precisely that the freckles on your skin make you the most handsome man I’ve ever met.

You’re flawed so artfully that you fumble in things you do, yet manage to amaze me every time with something amazing.

You’re flawed so wondrously that you leave me wonderstruck, blushing all my way home, and stunned, feeling fortunate to have fallen for you.

You’re flawed with all the extraordinary words, you haven’t heard, defining you, and I simply look at you like you put stars in the sky.

You’re flawed with a strange kind of love that breathes inside you, and i cannot help, but keep loving you with words I chose to mend my soul.

You’re flawed so flawlessly that it’s fiddly to say if you’re beautifully flawed or skillfully flawless.

The falling rain and you

The falling rain reminds me of you in ways I haven’t imagined you yet. It makes my heart reminisce all the little things that make you who you are. Each drop of water falls on earth, spelling a story of love that couldn’t find a way. I wonder if my love for you will ever make its way to the right lane or will it just become a story that the rain keeps narrating every now and then. The fragrance of this rain brings a sense of nostalgia, taking me back to your sparkling eyes, musical voice, and soothing touch. It brings back the feeling of home, yet gives me a feeling of something being left behind. Maybe you. Maybe me. Maybe a story that could make us. The pleasant sound of the raindrops calms my senses and forces me to think of the secrets that hold you back. It makes me curious about the mysteries that scare you and memories that haunt you. But I don’t know how these shades look and how do they bring you a strange shiver. All I know is one day if I have you besides me, all for myself, I’ll whisper in your ears, “Love, tell me about it all. Tell me what love was for you, and tell me why you run away from it now. Tell me that you cannot love me. It’s OK. But spell each of your fear out to me and I promise to keep them safe with me. Tell me how I hurt you by bringing it all alive one more time. And I’ll kiss you just one last time so you could give the love, within you, a beautiful new life.” Holding us tight in the warmth of love, the falling rain reminds me of you in ways I haven’t imagined you yet.

A house in the name of you.

Nothing seems to have ended and nothing seems to have paused. There is still so much more to say, to hear, to spell, to create, and to feel. Words seem to have lost their worth, and the eyes bleed tears. What to say and what to keep within, I don’t know how it works. How do I feel about it and how to be strong, I don’t know how it works. Whom to talk to and why, I don’t know how it works. Whether to live in hope of some magic or give up at this very moment, I don’t know how it works. The pen looks numb and the paper blank. The eyes look clueless and the heart emptied. The lips miss smiling at you and the ears are tempted to hear it all one more time. Love seems like a stubborn chap, not ready to move an inch. It claims to have made this heart a house in the name of you.

Last night, I wrote you in tears.

Last night, I wrote you in tears. Tears that held stories about you, with you, and for you. Tears that spelled the secrets, treasured by my eyes for quite a long time. Tears that were enveloped in the form of words and put out of sight under that memory box. Tears that reminisced you in glimpses, making me smile at all unexpected moments. Tears that had a million things to say, yet chose to narrate you in silence. Last night, I wrote you in tears. Tears that blurred my vision, dominating the darkness. Tears that screamed at the memories of you and sobbed for not having you around. Tears that did not feel lonely, but wished to have that one soul close to them when things were either beautifully in place or brilliantly falling apart. And, little do you know that you are that one generous soul. Last night, I wrote you in tears. Tears that recited you in verses. Tears that found home in the dusk. Tears that befriended me in the middle of the dark, and left my hand when the sun rose. Tears that vanished in the day, leaving me with swollen eyes, disclosing all the secrets of midnight. Last night, I wrote you in tears. And, this morning, my puffy eyes confessed it all, revealing your name to the world.

Can you just….

Can you just come and sit next to me? For I am alone and wish to share my silence with you.

Can you just come and hold my hand? For time is running and I want this moment to stop.

Can you just be around me and watch me smile? For, my love, that’s the only time my grin reaches from ear-to-ear.

Can you just talk to me about anything and everything? For I love to listen to you, fumbling and then laughing at yourself.

Can you just hug me tight and tell me something about me? For it’s been a while I’ve felt loved and love, it’s been a while since I’ve loved you.

Can you just kiss my head and keep me safe with you? For I don’t know what home is, but you’re pretty much like it.

Can you just grab me quick and take me somewhere? For this world looks chaotic and you’re the only soothing rhythm.

Can you just dance with me and get lost in my eyes? For I’m already lost in yours and you make me crazier every day.

Can you just sing a song and make me fall for you all over again? For I know you aren’t a good Singer, but then, your voice!!

Can you just cuddle me up and hide me from the world? For I feel fearfully cold and I think you’re the only warmth.

Can you just tell me about your life and ask me about mine? For I know only bits of you, but strangely haven’t felt so complete, loving anyone.

Can you just be mine and I yours, forever? For you feel like home and I’m homesick.

Be strong!

Sometimes, being strong is what kills us the most. We never really want to befriend silence, but being strong calls for it. It takes a lot to hold on to certain emotions, only out of love.

Being strong is something that we owe to our own selves. No one else can expect us to be strong and let go off the things which do not seem to be meant for us.

We often hide or fight our tears so the world wouldn’t know the weak shades of our souls. But, little do we know that crying only makes us stronger by letting out all the anger, annoyance, and sadness with tears.

Being strong does not mean running away from all that we fear. Being strong is to face all that we thought we’d never be able to.

And sometimes, I feel, strength was never defined precisely, which is why we tend to fail in dealing with our emotions. We are not strong if we keep our love within. We’re strong if we confess about the way we feel without being bothered about the response.

Talking fearlessly about all that we feel is just how we should be respecting our emotions. And then, all we are left to do is to accept our own weirdly beautiful feelings. Because, only then will we learn how to be strong enough to hold on to and spell every tiny bit of our emotions, no matter what.

Being strong is not about taking a step back, but about taking one more step ahead in order to respect our selves. So let’s just-
Be strong! Be precise! Be us!