My mother rightly said “give yourself to nonliving things. They make you live a little more joyfully.”

Hey friends,

Once again I am here with my coloured hands. This time I risked my paintings completely to my imagination. 

Have a look.

  • The phases of life- Here I tried portraying the two contrast phases of one’s life with the help of two different paintings.

  • The time pass- My father challenged me to draw any animal on the white board. He was so sure I could not do it. Well, I bet him ₹500. And I won (yippie).

  • Still painting on walls – In my childhood, my parents never stopped me from scribbling on walls. And that is why it is still my favorite work. No amount of paint on a sheet of paper can give happiness. Painting on walls give me peace.

This is it. 

Hope you liked the blog. Do leave your comments, telling me how you like the paintings and suggesting me something new that I can try for my next blog. 

Thankyou for bearing with me.

A Sinner

You saw her and gave your heart.

She refused, but you tried hard.

It was not like she didn’t love you.

Just unable to realise, what’s wrong and what’s true.

You tried your best.

And gave up on rest.

You promised her happiness.

And protection from heinous.

She fought with her brain
And thus her heart won.

She finally agreed to your love.

And looked for days upcoming.

Initially you stood on your troth.

There was love, excitement and teas hot.

Then you started to show your colours,

Cunningly and shamelessly removed your covers.

She was happy when you were far.

Why did you come and gave her the scar?

How will she manage when you will be gone?

She need to accept that you were a con.

You played with her; she let you win.

You stabbed her and she cried with a grin.

You raped her and used her.

Everyone warned her.

But she turned a deaf ear.

After everything you did, she still had hope,

That you would come back, and she would cope.

After betraying and breaking her so badly,

You think that you are a man and a winner.

But after what you have done and lost,

You are no less than a sinner.

Can it be this way?#07

My mother once told me, “the path you take for your happiness is often diverted in the wrong direction by the society. It simply depends upon you that, will it affect you or not?” I think I was too small to understand it then. By the time I reached my sweet sixteen and lost my mother to death, this thing was quite clear to me. 

But one thing that I can never understand is that, why is society so interested in my life? Do you also question this? Sometimes I laugh it out. But sometimes it irritates me and make me think. Think alot!

And after doing a lot of thinking, I reached to the conclusion that I can never reason the back biting that people do behind me when I wear a short skirt. I can never understand the various faces that my neighbours make on listening to any of my achievements. I can never excuse them for speaking about my character, just by seeing me with a boy. I can never forgive them for making my father shout at me for laughing loudly.
I know there are many articles like these out there. I also know that I am not a great speaker and I can probably not inspire much people. But I have a request to make. Be a good member of this society. 
We often say that we don’t care what the society says. But believe me you care. You listen to them and somewhere change according to them. To all the members of the society (if you are?), can other’s happiness not make you jealous? Can you not learn to appreciate your fellow members?

If there is any another world out there, I pray that it has no society. I pray that there is no jealousy and nobody is insecure with anybody’s success. 

Can it be this way? 

Think. We still have time.

I would love to hear from you. What do you think about our society? Does it need to change or have I just hyped it? 

Leave your comments.

Shades #1

After a very long time I soaked my hand in paints once again. And as always, colours took me to another world where shades are bright and minds are at peace. 

Hope you like the outcome of my colourful journey. 😃

The ocean.

No voice could give her the cure for her despair.

No prayer could change her surrounding air.

No music could grant peace to her spirit.
No lyric could equate to the amount of pain she was tolerating.

No being could bring back her hopes.
No medicine could cure her dying soul.

Nobody could do what the ocean did to her.
She wept beside it and her sufferings seamed to blur.

With every wave that emerged, her rage rose along.
With every resting wave her miseries were gone.

When the sun shimmered on the water her soul got enlightened.
By the time it slipped in water, her mind and heart were reunited.

When she did not loose hope…. .

The third electric shock went down her nerves with such ferocity, that not even a sigh could escape her mouth. She lay there with disproportionate eye balls; looking in space but not seeing anything. Her arrhythmic heartbeats were clear and loud. After sometime she was transferred to a rolling chair and dumped into the back of a car. Mental hospital was only the treatment ground for her. Her battle ground was her house where she fought daily with her life, her destiny and her illness. But these didn’t make her weak. These didn’t make her wish for death. These didn’t led her to the mental hospital. Nights did! Yes! Nights that were scary, painful, fierce and empty. Empty yet heavy.

Days were easier to pass. Craving for food and breath seamed much easier than bearing the pain inflicted on her at night. Normally, people say that it’s night by seeing the sun going down. Or by seeing birds flying back to their nests. Or simply by realising that it’s getting darker. But, Nancy didn’t realise it by seeing the intensity of light. Not because she was blind. But because she lived in a metallic room in the basement which was provided with artificial light. A device pumped oxygen in the room continuously. A bed took up half of her room. There was everything arranged for her in that little chamber that would keep her alive.

Day time for Nancy was the time when she was alone in her room. Those were the hours of life for her. She would try to speak again, but would end up muttering something that she herself could not understand. She would spend rest of the hours reading novels. But then nights would befall on her. For her, night would come and fill her life with darkness when strange people could get the authority of inflicting pain on her. For her, sun would set and take away all the hopes and energy when unknown people could come on her and touch her bare body, grin by seeing her parts and have her for the whole night.

For one year, her father traded her body for money. He – the “must be protector” of her dignity, sold her to some people with extra testosterone running in their penis. She did fought back. For her life, for her body, for her dignity. But it landed her in a mental hospital. There she was treated with electricity, due to which she lost her ability to speak. She was beaten and forced to serve her body to the people for money.

But nancy was an inherited brave girl. She remembered her mother’s last words. Her mother always said that their is always a way out. For the first six months she planned the breakthrough. And for the other six months she prepared everything for the execution of the plan. Despite the mental illness due to the shocks, she had will and hope to escape from that kiosk and live a normal life. She broke the earthen pot and kept some pieces of it with her. The door of that room had two latches. She used those pieces to loosen the screws of the latch that was on the top of the door. Slowly she removed all the four screws and the latch fall off. She used the metallic walls of the room to sharpen the corners of the latch. 

That night when her last costumer came in for getting his lust relieved, she took the latch and run it through his throat. Also she did multiple punctures on his chest. She kept the pillow on his mouth and finally suffocated him to death. After an hour when his father came in to inform that his time was over, he saw his dead body lying on the floor. Nancy had removed his belt and she instantly charged it on her father. But he, being a strong man, retaliated and held her by her arms and slapped her. She fell on the floor. When he bent over her to pick her up, she put the latch into his eye with all her power. He fell by her side screaming in pain. She got up and managed herself out of the room. She locked him inside the room and ran to the police station. 

She saved herself from that hell. She freed herself from her father. Her bravery and patience paid her. She chose life for herself when she did not loose hope.

My Invisible Half.

Tip toed it came to me and sneeked under my covers.

‘coz it was dark I couldn’t see, it’s shape or it’s colours.

It could be mighty as mountains, or tiny as a rock.

But it happens to be with me everywhere; sleep, run or during walks.

No matter how much I run away, I kind of carry it along.

It has become sheer inseparable by being with me for so long.

It shelters me, protects me and lend space for my tears. 

It scares me, haunts me and makes me face my fears.

It is nothing to be seen with eyes open wide.

But with eyes closed, it happens to be by my side.

One day I got frustrated and screamed at invisibility.

‘Show up’ I called dementedly.

It played itself in front of me and revealed itself at last.

It came close and whispered to me, ‘I am your past’.