I write & shoot (photographs) occasionally

Month: November, 2013

Society’s child

As she slipped her clothes off and stepped into the shower, she caught her own eye in the mirror. She wasn’t smiling. She used her finger to touch her collarbone. It was almost sharp enough to cut. Her ribs protruded plainly from her body as if her skin was as thin as plastic film. She was just bones.

The dark hollows under her eyes caught the rays of the falling light and the stranger in the mirror looked haunted for a second.

She blinked again and the illusion was gone. She remembered she wasn’t always this way. There was a time when she had been truly happy. But society had been too cruel to a young child.

She could never go back to who she was. She was too deep in drowning waters to turn back now.



I am haunted by the past

And haunted by the future

But the ghost of the present

Doesn’t quite draw near


Her heart was broken and she could feel the segregated pieces just lying there uselessly, refusing to move, refusing to budge. She felt heady from the lack of oxygen because her heart had probably died. It probably wasn’t working anymore and the rest of her body probably wasn’t receiving any blood. Her heart was dead. She wondered why she was still alive.

The pain had been this head-splitting horror at first and it made her chest ache with the possibilities of what could have been but she would not know now. She was in a daze and she felt her heart floating away but she didn’t know what to do so she let it be. Eventually her heart broke to pieces because it couldn’t break free of her humanly bounds and again she just let it be. 

They said time would heal all wounds, but her heart stayed broken. She thought maybe they were wrong. Maybe time wouldn’t heal all wounds, but time would stop her pain. Maybe time would make her die, and it would free her from the chains of hurt and sorrow.

Maybe that was what they meant, she thought as hot tears rolled down her cheeks. There was no sadness in them anymore, only truth. 

That was what they meant.


The darkness, for her, was comforting. When she lay down on her bed at night, she could almost pretend that she didn’t know what hurt was and she couldn’t feel any pain and the world was just a perfect place where dreams came true. She could lie to herself that with every thought she had, nobody was dying every minute and nobody was grieving over nobody. She could almost pretend that she was happy.

She would lie there and gaze into the impenetrable darkness and tell herself that it was a world of possibilities because she could not see the four walls. She would hope and hope and hope and imagine that they came true. In the darkness, everything was a constant, and she knew nothing else. She would not lose anything or anyone and she would not be so sad.

The darkness was her protection, and she loved the privacy it gave her. In the darkness she never had to see anyone hurt, and nobody would see her cry. The noisy whirring of the fan would drown out her quiet sobs, and darkness would not belie her.

She was always awake and not tired, until her thoughts drifted off to a better place called hope and when her mind dwelled there for long enough she hoped that it would make her tired so she could sleep.

The Passing

When they pass

The pain will gnaw at us inside

Ripping our heart to pieces

Rendering us unable to live on 

Without them


When they leave

The hurt will be so strong, so pure

As direct as a bullet to the head

Lethal and consuming and drowsy and excruciatingly painful

But there will be nothing we can do

No them to wipe our tears away

We could cry oceans 

And drown ourselves in the pain


When they go

If not anyone else, at least I will know

The impact they have made

What they left behind 


It can be as tiny as a ripple of water

As insignificant as a set of footprints

Cursed to die in the hands of he tides

Predetermined, fated cruelty


But I will be here

Finding them in every shadow

Every flicker of light

Every good thing that happens

With the memory of every 




Resonating here


When I think about it now

When the pain is but a distant memory

Loving you was not just love


Loving you

Was about the moments

Bits and pieces of the loveliest memories sewn together

To create

A quilt of time we spent together

The moments of joy, happiness, hope and anger

That brought us so close together

And eventually tore us apart


Loving you 

Was about the beautiful delusions

The expectations that fell short of reality every time

When I was so deeply in love 

That I let it slide

But we broke because the disappointment

Overwhelmed me inside


Loving you

Was losing myself

Becoming so blinded

That in the end

I lost you as well


12.47. The numbers glowed like brilliant cat eyes against the shadows of nightfall. I could not fall asleep. On the outside, I was a still being, but inside my head, an orchestra of lilting noises was moulding together into a single sound. Songs from various genres took their turns to perform inside my head, and their voices and souls kept me awake. They rebelled and resisted against my mind’s urge to shut down to rest, instead choosing to intoxicate me with endlessly fascinating harmonies and chords. Eventually my mind got lost in all the notes and strings, and the path to slumber was gone. What remained was a drunkenly happy state, engulfed in a musical euphoria.


Music means something different to everyone. For one, music can be solace. For another, music can mean forgetting. Music can be for joy, tragedy and love, and the endless definitions of what music means to each and every person outweighs the standard definition of music in a dictionary. Music should not be restricted to a one lined definition, for with every person music has a new meaning; with every soul touched music spurs believing. What is common then, in all these different perspectives, is that music has moved us. In any small or life changing way, music has touched our lives. It has given us something to hope for, something to look forward to, something to enjoy, something to love. With music we can tell our stories and touch others’ hearts, and inspire others through song. This is the most beautiful thing about music: its soul.

Unmasked Reality

His eyes

Were a shifting world of emotions

As the caged tears trembled

And threatened to break free

With a surge of despair so heartbreaking

A pearl of sadness trickled down his cheek

Encasing in it

The dirt and dust

That masked his face

And the darkness swirled around in his tears so pure

As his hopelessness mingled with despair

And tainted the Sun in him

Whose rays would never again break free from his soul


The city dweller

The sky emits a soft morning glow

As the first rays of dawn span across the clouds

In a dreamy pale blue, rose-tinted at the edges

It fans out to a blushing dawn


The tiny pricks of light glimmer weakly

As fairy lights twinkle and wave

A cheery good morning sight from a distance


The Ferris wheel spins lazily in circles

Round and round and round

It is the epitome of my emotions

As my head spins around and around

Never finding solid ground


I am driving past a small town

And I wind down my window

To the relaxing country sights and sounds

And maybe I’m dreaming

But my heart could take root in this place now

And sing in tune

With the melody of the birds

Not cars


I find peace

As the city noise drowns


Mellow Bellow

She whispered her thoughts

Sent her opinions on the wind

But no one heard her

No one saw


She tried again

As her voice raised a pitch

But again they did not hear

So she screamed

With a voice that burst her lungs

And resounded painfully in her head

She was sure they heard her now

And yet


All it did was prick some ears

Raise some hairs

But never registered in their heads

And she cried

Because she could not make a sound

She could not tell anyone how she felt

With her mellow bellow

And her voice which refused to sound