Maternity

“To love. To be loved. To never forget your own insignificance. To never get used to the unspeakable violence and the vulgar disparity of life around you. To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty to its lair. To never simplify what is complicated or complicate what is simple. To respect strength, never power. Above all, to watch. To try and understand. To never look away. And never, never to forget.” 
― Arundhati Roy, The Cost of Living

Some days I just want to lie under open skies and embrace a little baby. It just gives utter joy to watch kids grow and make them learn and make them eat. Sometimes I'm so full of maternal feelings  that it overwhelms me. Some people who guard traditions shan't forget that a mother and her little baby are inseparable even after when, that child has gone hidden into the shadow of hidden maternity.

Bewildered

Some days it just kills me on the inside to be where I am, where I could have been or perhaps where I wanted to be. I'm most uncertain about where I see my eyes into an eternal dream but I'm most certain where I do not want to be i.e. jail-hood. Sometimes it's like the longest itinerary to have been planned by fate; to freedom, to faith, to unroll tears back into the eyes of the beholder.
Tears of widowhood, utter painful long wait to nothing but the memories of people who exist and yet don't. Far away from places of the people where once shone a glee into the grey grieving cloud of nothing but the clutches of aloof fate - ironically merciless. Living in the perilous times, never before so utterly unpredictable in the period of transition with belief in progress to the pushing edge of the realm of the unknown, joylessly, disillusioned, and with no hope. In the state of widowhood, possessed of the harrowing devastation of  one who set out on life's course joyously in intimate comradeship with another, and then is bereft of that companion until forever. Satire.

“Sometimes when I look at you, I feel I'm gazing at a distant star. 
It's dazzling, but the light is from tens of thousands of years ago.
Maybe the star doesn't even exist any more. Yet sometimes that light seems more real to me than anything.” 
― Haruki Murakami, South of the Border, West of the Sun

Antardwand

Sometimes , some days and some people get stuck in your head or probably some incidences. I miss my college life just 2 days after being home, I want to be busy, I want to forget about this daze I live in, of longing and heartache . After all, the discomfort lives in my little heart, with my truckload of yearning and sometimes I loose it too - the patience, the will to fight all odds for love & lastly to keep sane with this going on . Sometimes I just want to grieve for long periods in just the proximity of nothing but my own little heart but some days don't let the tears roll back rather roll down and show up when just that person stings that little place where not so long ago lived the people or rather the sting that stirred up this exhausting journey of love , lust and long hours of wait . I feel I live in a widowhood, where I'm waiting for my dead husband to come back , where I'm waiting for my sane life to return and where I listen to my dead husband - where he promises me to love me so much that I'd forget what it feels like to be what it is as of now. My world is coming apart, where I have nothing to lose yet almost everything at stake. I'm fight my own little conscious to know whether or not if I will come out of it . Period .