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To the boy in that cafe

You look at me, sensing my gaze, staring at you. I avert my eyes, leaving you to wonder what was on my mind. You try to think of all the possible things that the random girl staring at you could be thinking. But what if there were no thoughts at all What if my mind was as blank as your face right now What if I was just looking at you to memorize your smile. To memorize the little creases at the corner of your eyes while you smiled. To memorize the black strands of your overgrown hair adorning your forehead. To take in the warm color of your skin. To see your lips move as you talk. To go past your spectacles to be able to guage the depth of your dark eyes. Like a child, just admiring, the soaring airplane, in awe. Like a bird, chirping its heart out not caring the world listening. Like a piece of straw, floating on the vast ocean, not caring about reaching the shore. What if I tell you I look at you, wishing you knew that you are what courses through my mind, reflecting i
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Mental health

Its time that we stop taking mental health and depression so lightly. It has been far more than just a taboo in India. Society has made this sensitive subject an issue of honour and pride of the suffering individual and his/her family.  We need to support and care about someone going through something instead of ridiculing them by saying things like 'ye sab mann ke khel hai' or 'areyy isko bas attention chaiye' or 'sympathy ke liye kar raha hai'  And to be able to support the ones in need, the first step is to accept that YES, PEOPLE CAN HAVE MENTAL HEALTH ISSUES; DEPRESSION IS REAL.  Once society accepts this, people who are going through a lot and suffering alone will come forward, speak, open up and seek help and a life may be saved.  So stop making an issue of mental issues and accept them. You never know who might be suffering all by themselves just because people around them might call them 'mad' or 'crazy' or 'mental' and ridicule
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असंच काहीतरी- मनापासून...

आयुष्य हे असंच असतं, जे आपल्याला आवडतं ते सहज मिळत नसतं. पण, जेव्हा मिळतं, तेव्हा त्याच्यासोबत काय करायचं हेच माहीत नसतं. त्याकडे फक्त पाहत बसूनही चालणार नसतं आणि चुकीचा निर्णय घेणे ही चालणार नसतं. मग अश्यावेळी करायचं तरी काय? कुणाचा घ्यायचा सल्ला ? कोण देईल मनापासून सल्ला? आई? वडील? भावंडं? की मित्र? काहीच समजत नाही. कोणीही कसाही सल्ला देईल पण निर्णय अन् परिणाम याचा फक्त आपल्या स्वतःशी संबंध असणार मग स्वतःच स्वतःला सल्ला द्यायचा कसा? अन् स्वतःचा सल्ला चुकीचा ठरला तर मग दोष कुणाला द्यायचा याची कोंडी! मन हे असंच असतं. पळवाटा शोधणारं, भीतीत राहणारं, सतत अनावश्यक विचार करणारं.. त्याला कोण काय करणार? विचारचक्र बंद करावं म्हटलं की ते आणखी वेगाने धावू लागतं अन् त्याच्यावर लक्ष केंद्रित केलं की मग ते सगळे विचारच् गप्प बसतात आणि गप्प बसले एकदाचे म्हणून सुस्कारा सोडताच् पुन्हा बोलायला लागतात. मन ही फारच अफलातून गोष्ट आहे. भीतीत राहुनही कोणाच्या आज्ञेत ते राहत नाही, कोणाचं काही ऐकत नाही अगदी ज्याचं ते मन आहे त्याचंही! पण तरी मन हे मन आहे आणि मनाचंच् सारं राज्य आहे. मन राजा, कान-नाक-डो
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Forgetful mess

There I rest on my throne No flesh only bone Oblivious to the world Staring at the telephone But Oh! The phone won't ring It has no news to bring So alone and quiet I continue to sing I sing for him Who promised to call But all I can hear Is the silence in my hall But oh! I keep forgetting a lot I'm not in my bed And it's been years since he's spot Now I remember, I'm dead ! Oh dear me ! Such a forgetful mess But what else would you expect From bones in a dress? 
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So I'll live.

Sometimes it feels like my world is falling apart and will collapse on me, crushing me with every breath I leave. So I try holding my breath hoping to hold onto life for a little longer. The world is already coming down.  Why don't I just give up the control knowing that giving up control does not necessarily mean I lose but, be free. Not of life but the responsibilities that life burdened me with.  I know I would still live on even after I die. My remains would still be there because somebody's new world would flourish on the ashes of mine.  So I'll live .  In the fragrance of a flower In a leaf's pale color In the whispers of breeze In a baby's sneeze I'll live  In a grain of sand In a farmer's rough hand Under a little dog's paw Who's digging with awe  I'll live.   In the laughter of a child In the tears of a bride In an athlete's smile Who just ran a mile  I'll live.   In an army ma
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Just Like That Rose

Like a rose, holding its petals close to the core, clings to the stem for it knows how cruel the world is. Tending to its need they'll care, adore and praise. Once the little bud starts opening up its petals to them, they'll rip it off the branch. Placing it in a vase, they'll enjoy its fragrance. Placing it in a bouquet, they'll impress their loved ones. Placing it on a grave, they'll mourn the gone. And then, leave it there, to wither away, on its own. It tries to survive, it sends messages through its wilting petals. Some pluck the petals away, one after another, deciding whom they love. Some keep it in their book, and suffocate it to death. Some crush the petals and make perfumes. Some throw it away. But, it never ceases to struggle until its last petal ceases to breathe. Just like that rose, I will strive to hold on, to my will, letting you enjoy me, making you happy. Just like that rose, I will always be there to comfort you. Just like that ros
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Old souls

Sitting at the far end of that cafe I glanced around finding nobody but the empty chairs. Twenty four chairs and twelve tables I counted. All empty. I found it funny how each table could only sit two people. Don't groups of friends visit cafes anymore or had this cafe become a spot for people like me? People like me, who sit alone at their favourite table sipping hot chocolate engrossed in a book. Who enjoy the peace and calm of being alone. Who want to shut out the world. Who want to write their thoughts out. Who want to enjoy their own company. Who don't feel at home in their own home. Who can't make friends because they're different. They're different for they enjoy one to one conversations. For they love to sit and talk for three hours straight. For they read as much as they can and discuss what they read later. For they love to recite poems and not filmy item numbers. For they love the soft instrumental music and not rock or pop or jazz. For the
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मैत्रिण

"मित्र" अर्थ हरवून बसलेला हा शब्द आता स्वतः ही हरवू लागला आहे. तसेच "मैत्रीण" या शब्दातल्या गोडव्यासोबत तो शब्द ही विरत चालला आहे. परवा एका मित्राशी बोलताना, नव्हे, चॅटींग करताना मी सहज म्हणून गेले 'मैत्रीणी साठी ईतकं ही करू शकत नाहीस का?' तर उत्तर आल "मैत्रीण? फार दिवसांनी आला ग हा शब्द समोर. कसंतरीच झालं." यावर मी काय बोलावं ते सुचेना. Bestie, bro, bff, dude हे असले शब्द ज्याला आपले वाटतात त्याला मैत्रीण यातला गोडवा अन जिव्हाळा नाही समजायचा म्हणून तो विषय सोडला. पण मैत्रीण वाचून कसंतरी वाटणार्या त्याने आई वडीलांना "ही माझी जुनी मैत्रीण " म्हणून ओळख करून देताना हसूच आलं. 
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The Old Times

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Fountain pens. The old times. Very few people prefer writing with fountain pens these days. Gel and ball pens are ahead in the race but, typing is always the winner. Thought of something nice? Just type it in the notepad of your phone and you're done. Or just tweet it ! I observed that typing breaks the chain of thoughts and writing lets them flow. I have many friends who write but I have few who write. My mother has her own collection of fountain pens and I do, too. I consider myself lucky to get friends who still admire these beauties. Some ask ' why fountain pens when all the pens write the same words? '' 'Feelings, passion and thoughts must always be liquid, like the ink' I say. Gel glides but doesn't flow. You need to fall in love with this beauty to see it work its magic on your thoughts. These days fountain pens are so rare that all the shopkeepers tell me to find them online. The trip to the shop goes in vain. Fountain pens are to be
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The Death Ride

For some reason, bike rides are soothing, aren't they? They calm your mind and organise your thoughts. They refresh you and lift up your spirit. One evening, when I was feeling quite low, one of my friends took me out for a bike ride. I was quite silent. I observed many things. I saw the different ways in which people sit on their bikes, some slouching, some stiff, some excited teenagers, some restless men eager to go back home from their respective offices. Various types of passengers on the pillions, elder ladies sitting with their legs hanging on one side and their pallus tucked in their armpits, a young couple with the girl hiding herself under the safety of her scarf, a child trying to expand his arms to their fullest to hold onto his father. We stopped at a red light. I looked around and wondered what thoughts must be running in everyone's mind. Must they be wondering the same too? I saw a man ahead of us on his bike, tapping his left foot on the road in sync with the r
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Suicide

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Look around. How many people you find smiling? Now look around again, closely. How many people you find really smiling? Look into their eyes. They tell you the truth. There are so many people who hide their great sorrows behind a strong smile. Ofcourse, sorrows are not meant to be displayed publicly. But, do you have someone with whom you can talk everything, share your deepest secrets, seek advice or ask for company? One must talk out his worries. One must not suffer silently,  for it leads to very damaging effects on one's mind.  One day a little boy came home from school to find blood everywhere around his elder brother and his mother sobbing incessantly. His innocent agitated mind thought it must be one of those daily household tantrums that he was so fed up of. But, the people finally told him the truth. His brother had slit his wrist. That furiously numb mind thought of really ending everything at that tender age. That little mind had seen too many things before time. But,
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Do you just look or do you really see?

“Observe always that everything is the result of a change, and get used to thinking that there is nothing Nature loves so well as to change existing forms and to make new ones like them.” — Meditations. iv. 36. – Marcus Aurelius   Observe how two different people board the bus in two different ways. Observe how two different people have two different ways to fill the water bottle from a public water cooler. Observe how one biker stops in the traffic but one tries to go through the cracks and loops. Observe how a girlfriend creates a scene over the low cost of a gift from a boyfriend while the girl behind the counter keeps reading her textbook while they get it sorted. Observe how each and every one of your colleagues have arranged their respective workspaces differently. Observe how one person keeps his glasses right up the nose and one at the tip of his nose. Interesting? Fun? So don’t just serve, observe. When you wander about your lifeless routine, try adding life to it b
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