Leap of Faith

Why is it so difficult to listen to your heart and take that leap of faith? Every time I take a step forward to leap into what seems to be a valley of bliss, something pulls me back, anticipating an abyss of loneliness.

Every smile that the thought of you puts on my lips, wants me to go ahead and feel happiness again. But, then again I’m reminded of the unending sleepless nights spent crying. I want to move on and ahead, but I’m scared of being pulled back.

It took me a lot to move on from the pain, and I am not even sure if I have done so completely yet. The thought of it all coming back haunts me, scares me and stops me. The fear of being hurt stops me from falling in love again.

If at all someone is to be blamed, it’d be my crazy little heart. Yes, the heart that wants to love, but without being broken; the heart that longs to be loved, but without taking a step forward.

Also posted on The Anonymous Writer

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Who are you?

Despite being a writer, I’ve never written about you and that has always been your complaint from me. So, today, I decided to give this a shot and give words to what I feel for you.

I think of what you mean to me. Are you just my love or my best friend too? Aren’t you the one who I owe most of my smiles to? Or the one from whom my tears don’t shy away? Are you the one who pushes me to my best? Or the one who makes me not want to quit?

Every time I try to write about you, these questions don’t let me. I fall short of words while answering these. But, today I have an answer. An answer that’s probably meagre of what you are to me.

You are my sunshine.

No, not just the one that lights up my life.

You are the winter sunshine. The sunshine that warms me when the winter chill breaks through my window panes. You’re the sunshine that catches hold of my hand and takes me out to the nature’s beauty. The one that gives me solace.

My sunshine.

My serendipity.

That’s what you are.

In Search of A Muse

In crowded places and in secluded corners,
In naughty winks and scared glances,
In the broad daylight or in the murky night,
I search for the muse who’s made for my words.

I search for a face, calm and carefree,
That masks a soul that wants to break free.
I search for eyes that I can silently follow around
To see the deep desires that they hide.

I will listen to your voice as it fumbles
Speaking of fears that are known to none
I will stare awestruck at your dimples
When you speak of memories you adore

If not the world, I can promise you words
My words, or you can say my heart if you wish
Words- that paint a portrait of you
And words that live just for you.

Would You?

Mornings begin with thoughts of you,
Nights don’t end without dreaming of you
Adorned with smiles and a blush
All my time is for you, my crush.

Always ready to go that extra mile for you,
A call is what it takes for me to rush to you
Problems or sorrows- you won’t have to put up a lone fight
For I would always be there, standing just to your right.

My love and care is what you are entitled to
But tell me, my love, would you do this too?
Would you be there when you don’t need me?
Would you also talk sweet nothings to me?

Would you think of me just like I do?
Or would you forget me too?
Would you talk only when you want to?
Or even when I need to talk to you?

Promises or gifts – I demand nothing from you
It’s just a little concern that would do.
So, my love, would you hold my hand,
And walk with me just as a friend?

Lost Love

Ten years.

Ten years since I left this town, but, nothing seemed to have changed. The muddy playground where I used to play football was still full of children playing football, cricket, or badminton, and some of them swaying around on swings. The benches were occupied by the elderly, watching their grandchildren playing.

The road outside the park was lined with stalls selling all kinds of food. From pani-puris and chaats to kulfis and golas, this place boasted of a wide variety of street food. When I used to stay here, my favorite were the golas- crushed ice flavored with different colored sherbats. I loved the combo of rose and kala-khatta. Ah! Those days were fun.

I decided to have golas on my walk back home. Moving upwards on the hilly road, I saw the birds chirping around, going back to their nests as evening was setting in. Walking through the greenery, I reached my favorite place in the town.

It was the edge of a cliff. The area was full of lush green grass. I remember spending hours here, capturing the beautiful scenery through my brushes and paints in my drawing book. In my fast-paced life, I had lost all contact with my passion. I sighed.

I moved ahead towards the only bench present there. The green colored wooden bench had now become patchy brown.It had also aged. On nearing the bench, I saw someone sitting there. Curious, I walked to the bench.

I was surprised to see the person sitting there.


She stood up and smiled on seeing me.


She still looked the same. Her
“How are you? Long time it has been.”

“Yes. Indeed a long time. I’m just the way you left me- sitting here and waiting for you.”

My happiness now subsided.

“Please don’t start that topic again. It was just our past. I’ve forgotten it and moved on. You should also do that.”

She started walking away, towards the edge of the cliff.

I was now scared.

“Wait! Where are you going?”

“You could move on because it was you who left me. I never stopped loving you. I had dreamt of a future with you. And, you left me because you wanted to focus on your future.”

“Planning for the future is not a bad thing to do.”

“Woah! And, what about my future? You meant everything to me. You took away the meaning from my life when you left me.”

I didn’t know what to say. She was now on the edge of the cliff.

I let out my hand to her. “Come here or you’ll fall off the edge.”

She smiled. Spreading her arms wide open, she jumped.

“Swati!” I shouted, but to no avail. The cliff was too high for anyone to survive.

Shocked and not being able to react, I moved back. My leg trippled over a rock, and I was about to fall when a hand grabbed my hand. It was Swati. Her eyes now swollen, with prominent dark circles. Her hair was unkempt and her skin pale. I shivered. She was not the Swati I had just seen. I didn’t know who was real and who wasn’t.

I somehow gathered my senses to ask who she was.

“I am Swati.”

“No. You’re not. She just fell down the cliff.”

“I did. Not now, but ten years back, just a week after you were gone.”

I felt a lump in my throat. I could neither think nor speak a word.

I was just on the edge of the cliff. Her hand was the only thing I held on to for life.

She spoke. “I always loved you but you never did. You considered me a hindrance for your future. So, you left me. But, I can’t. Your life could never be mine, but your death will be. You will be mine.”

She let go off my hand. Falling down the cliff, I could just see Swati waiting on the ground, hundreds of feet below.


Prince Charming

What qualities do you wish to see in your partner?”

My answer to this question was always the same- “Never thought about it”.

But, to be true, somewhere deep in my heart, I also dreamt of my man, or to say more specifically, my Prince Charming. My images of the perfect guy were influenced by the romantic movies and novels I loved. He would be as the stereotype goes- tall, dark and handsome. He would not shy away to express his love for me in front of the world. Flowers, dates, handmade cards- he would be my Santa Claus with a bag full of surprises. And one more thing, he would know a thousand ways to woo me and sweep me off my feet. Be it proposing me, or throwing in a random surprise, he would just be the perfectionist.
I am a die-hard romantic, ready to go out of bounds just to get a smile on my love’s face, and naturally I expected my guy to be the same. But as they say, ‘Man proposes, God disposes’. Destiny had something else in store for me.

A short, dark guy being scolded by the teacher – that’s how I saw you for the first time, and it was nowhere close to my Prince Charming. But, I found something cute and innocent in your behavior and the way you talked, and not to mention, your smile- that million dollar smile which was convincing enough to make me accept the chocolate you gifted me on my birthday, in spite of the fact that I had never even talked to you before that day. And there began our friendship, from facebook to class room. I started to nurture a liking for you.

Then came the proposal, something I was secretly waiting for. Though it was not the typical down on your knees kind of proposal which my dream man would do, but, for me, that proposal on the last bench of the class was the best proposal of the world.

You are not the roses and surprises type of guy, but you make sure that my smile never leaves me. Contrary to my imaginations, you are a shy person, but with a heart clear as crystal, so clear that you can’t keep the rare surprises that you think of planning, away from me.

You may be different from my earlier thoughts of a perfect guy, but today I can proudly say that you are the definition of ‘Prince Charming’ for me, and no one can love like you do. And there is no worry about the surprises part too, because I am there to plan little, sweet surprises, which I love to. I really don’t want you to change. What I dreamt was influenced by movies and novels, but what you do for me is reality. Your care is much more special than anything else you would do.

I love you.

Hold My Hand

Break-up was what we both mutually concluded upon. Maybe, we were just not right for each other. Maybe, the relationship had become more of a handcuff, restricting our freedom. I thought I would get over it soon. And, to a certain extent, I even have. We have moved on.

All day I am surrounded with friends, family, and everyone else, making it easier for me not to think about you. But, sometimes, in the late hours of the night, when I am just alone, waiting for sleep to cast a spell over me, I think of you. I think of the times we spent together. The memories we shared. The looks we would steal of each other.

These are the times when I suddenly glance at my hand.

Your hand fitted so perfectly into mine, your fingers entwined with mine.

In school, you held my hand beneath the desk, covering the sides with your school bag, as if protecting our bond from the envious glances of people around us.

Somehow, you automatically held my hand while crossing the road.

You held my hand with glee, when you were happy.

You held my hand whenever I needed to be with you.

Your grip over my hand tightened when you were sad or worried.

Holding your hand gave me a sense of being loved and cared of.

But, today, emptiness is all that I hold on to when I close my hands.

I wish, or rather, I desire your companionship.

I wish if all that happened is just a nightmare, and when I wake up from this nightmare, you are again there, holding my hand, and filling up the hollowness in my life, just as your fingers filled up the gaps between mine.