Category: Lines from her diary

  • Layers of Romance: Emotional Depth in Love and Writing

    Layers of Romance: Emotional Depth in Love and Writing

    Daily writing prompt
    What’s your definition of romantic?

    Hey…

    I hope all of you are doing well…

    What an open-ended question this one is,
    without a context,
    without any relation to how we are supposed to work,
    romanticism in the sense of a literary writing,
    or romantic in a relationship sense…?

    But,
    that’s the cue to work around the topic of this day,
    and we will go ahead anyways…

    My definition of romantic (or romance) in a general sense isn’t clouded by the want to just get in bed with them,
    but,
    to understand them,
    the things that they like,
    the things that they hate,
    the way they grew up,
    and from that understanding,
    what shaped them the way they are,
    or how they respond to an action or a cue,
    which they like or don’t,
    helping me to stay clear off the things that haunted them in their past,
    all the while helping them come to terms with what they were in their past,
    isn’t something that is going to affect their present;

    Also,
    showering them with gifts,
    taking them out on their days off,
    and exploring new places with them,
    as we walk hand in hand,
    traveling with them maybe using the public transport every once in a while,
    and gifting flowers,
    and dropping them home or near it,
    how the relationship is at that point of time…

    See how I didn’t talk about having or getting your physical needs met here,
    because that’s how it is initially,
    taking it slow and knowing that in some cultures,
    things like these take place after marriage,
    and that’s acceptable,
    but,
    when things are forced,
    and they are coerced into doing something that they don’t agree to,
    or like,
    would naturally mean that you’re there only to satiate yourself,
    and then drop her after the sun rises the next day…

    Due to that,
    this path becomes extremely tricky for both,
    where one has to make sure things are mutual and in agreement,
    with proper boundaries set…

    Whereas romanticism in literary sense comes in when things like these are experienced and a person who loves to write pens his real emotions and feelings,
    about how they are truly, madly and deeply in love,
    with the said person,
    to the point they write (Of course in some hidden sense),
    about their love,
    their feelings,
    which can be mutual or one sided,
    but,
    portraying an image in a sense that’s appealing to read,
    and can be experienced by those who are around them,
    without even being in a relationship to call it something that they themselves dream of being in…

    So romantic aspect is much needed in life,
    where a person exposes themselves,
    layer by layer,
    in a sense to a person,
    they intend to spend the foreseeable future with…

    That’s romanticism for me,
    to you…

    Cheers 🥂

    Love Waakiye🤍

    All alone they were,
    After a long time they were finally together,
    There was deep longing in those eyes,
    And a want,
    A need that needed to be expressed,
    But,
    Who would make the first move…?

    The first move,
    After a span of three months,
    These months,
    Akin to years spent apart,
    Seeing only each other,
    And talking like strangers,
    Whenever they had some time on their hands,
    And these hands,
    Waited,
    Waited all of these days,
    Waited these weeks,
    Waited all these Months;

    Now,
    These hands,
    Were in those,
    Where they belonged…

    A bottle of Merlot,
    And two glasses were there,
    A third of the way,
    Maybe a sip was taken,
    Before things took a turn…

    From kissing the back of her hand,
    To her shoulder blade,
    And from there,
    Those pink supple lips,
    He stared at himself,
    Her face tilted,
    Eyes half closed,
    Waiting were these lips,
    For a sweet little kiss..

    A known flavor coated his mouth,
    Her born lippy lip balm,
    The strawberry kind,
    Those eyes; glowing,
    Overflowing with emotions;

    “Cannot tell you how much I waited,
    Waited for this day..”

    As those eyes shined,
    As she stared into his…
  • Understanding Human Instincts: A Day of Reflection

    Understanding Human Instincts: A Day of Reflection

    Daily writing prompt
    What notable things happened today?

    Hey…

    I hope all of you are doing well…

    Well,
    there is nothing notable about today,
    because I’m writing this as fever spikes yet again,
    and,
    my whole body feels like it’s been wringed out like a wet cloth,
    to remove excess water…

    All in,
    I’m spending another day at home,
    feeling extremely tired,
    incapable of moving,
    but,
    here I am writing this at 11:25 am,
    on a hot day of June,
    and its 13th and a Friday…

    The most notable thing that happened today was a conversation,
    with my mom,
    as She sat with me and brought me the morning coffee,
    (For which I’m forever grateful…)

    This wasn’t the usual conversation,
    like how I was feeling,
    or,
    is there something that I needed,
    but,
    we were discussing a scenario…

    “How,
    all of us are hardwired to have the instinct,
    when we are supposed to be fed as a kid,
    (mother’s milk),
    and the science that goes behind it,
    and after that,
    the conversation shifted to Procreation…


    “How it is a natural instinct,”
    even when someone is physically disabled or not mentally sane,
    they still have a wish,
    a yearning to be held,
    touched,
    caressed,
    and their feelings met,
    and to portray them in a way that’s appealing to your s/o,
    or someone you’re seeing…

    And somewhere along the lines the conversation went downhill,
    it shifted to how,
    when those needs aren’t met,
    they’re replaced by violent tendencies,
    where we see,
    woman/girls being 🍇,
    just because they saw someone walking along,
    which seemed an easy target…

    But,
    I interjected,
    that all of the focus and blame has been shifted to the wrong gender ;
    How,
    all of it happens when we tell the female gender to cover themselves up,
    from head to toe,
    and even after that,
    they become victims,
    so
    we are clearly blaming and correcting the wrong gender,
    when a push and an effort is needed to make the change in the mindset of men,
    and when that happens,
    we can start to see a change in the environment that,
    has been corrupted so much.

    Cheers 🥂

    Love Waakiye 🤍

    A cup of coffee,
    and discussions beyond,
    beyond the grasp of timid mindsets,
    where a mother makes a change,
    to introduce to the child,
    a concept that’s widespread yet wrongly understood…

    Over the cup of coffee,
    we discussed,
    the faults within,
    a need to reform the mindset,
    and from that,
    we find,
    the original source of fault…

    “Coddling those,
    whose actions were to be punished…”
    but,
    without a clue,
    the entire blame was shifted,
    to her clothes,
    to her advances,
    to her ignoring
    things that happened in the surroundings,
    and when,
    something horrible happened,
    all of its happening,
    the stalking to,
    her rejecting,
    to his taking it on his image,
    to doing the worst thing possible…

    “All of it,
    Becomes her fault…”
  • कफ़न में ना लौटने की अभिलाषा: एक बेटी का संघर्ष

    कफ़न में ना लौटने की अभिलाषा: एक बेटी का संघर्ष


    कफ़न में आना मंजूर है,

    उस बेटी का,

    जिसको पाल पोस कर बड़ा किया;

    लड़ झगड़ कर ना आए वापस वहां,

    बचपन बीता जहां उसका

    हर बार यही कहा;

    जलील हो एक बार,

    बार बार,

    लाखों बार,

    सांस लेना हर एक पल उस घर में,

    जो लगने लगा अब कैद—खाना;

    ताने सुनने पड़े हर बार,

    कभी छोटी जात को ले कर,

    तोह कभी ना आना पैसे वाले खानदान से;

    कफ़न में आना मंजूर है,

    उस बेटी का,

    जिसको पाल पोस कर बड़ा किया;

    वोह एक बार हाथ उठा दिया जो,

    सहम गई वोह,

    रोती—रोती सोचने पर मजबूर,

    ना किया किसी ने ऐसा उस घर,

    जहां से आई वोह;

    देखने पर कोई निशान नहीं,

    हादसा ऐसा,

    जिसकी कोई चोट नहीं,

    पर दुख और पीड़ा अनंत,

    ना जाने कैसे सहार गई;

    वापस जाने को आज कोई घर नहीं,

    जहां से आई वहां के लिए,

    दरवाजे बंद,

    किसी दुख के मुकाम पर,

    वहा के दरवाजे बंद जहां बिताया बचपन मैने;

    खुश होंगे जरूर,

    खुशी दिखेगी,

    चेहरे पर,

    आँखें भी नम होगी,

    जाऊंगी में वापस जब,

    उस दिन खुश होंगे सभ;

    कफ़न में आना मंजूर है,

    उस बेटी का,

    जिसको पाल पोस कर बड़ा किया;

    तब देखेंगे,

    सब गौर से,

    अरे,

    ये तोह,

    बचपन में इसी घर में तोह खेली ये,

    पर,

    उस पल भी सोच में होऊंगी मैं,

    क्या वोह अमीरी जिसकी कमी थी,

    इस घर भी,

    उस घर भी,

    क्या वोह पाई किसी को,

    या ले गई मैं अपने इस किस्मत की अमीरी अपने साथ;

    उस सफेद में,

    आऊंगी वापस,

    पर आऊंगी लेके चेहरे पर एक मुस्कान,

    क्योंकि,

    दुखी होके,

    किसी का दिल दुखा के,

    लड़ झगड़ के

    आना,

    मना जो है मेरा….।

    A young girl with long dark hair, partially covered by a white cloth, gazes intensely at the camera with a serious expression. She has a small red bindi on her forehead and her skin has warm tones, conveying a deep emotional presence.
    A sense of loss,
    profound,
    filled with grief…

    Every breath taken,
    in a sense,
    to last longer,
    than the last…

    The pain,
    like
    a slow working poison,
    hurting as its traveling to parts different,
    and eats from within the being…

    A sense of doom,
    looms over the person,
    a fear that haunts,
    reminding,
    of the change in dynamics,
    of the responsibilities that were shed,
    once she was given from a home,
    to a house,
    unknown…

    Numerous calls,
    a wish to return,
    A wish to see the faces of those remaining,
    BUT,
    A strict no,
    stood in the way,
    As she breathed,
    drank,
    dabbed herself in poison,
    each day,
    until the blue,
    overcame her,
    and there she lay,
    in a cloth pure white,
    a call was made…

    A call was made,
    that carefree father’s laughter,
    turned into nightmare,
    as tears started to fall,
    the drive was painful,
    The words barely leaving,
    As they saw,
    their daughter,
    or what remained of her,
    in a cloth,
    PURE WHITE…

    Wishing a conversation,
    a last one,
    but,
    unaware of the fact,
    they themselves closed that gate shut….!
  • Chaotic relation between work and home life: A deeper look

    Chaotic relation between work and home life: A deeper look

    Daily writing prompt
    How do you balance work and home life?

    Hey…

    I hope all of you are doing well…

    This prompt feels like a personal attack,
    And I hope it doesn’t feel like to anyone else ever,
    But,
    the nature of the topic chosen this day;
    woosh…

    The existence of two lives feels a foreign concept when you are a business owner,
    you can’t say no to a client,
    even if they call after hours,
    because this can be an opportunity to gain an edge over the competitors,
    who are working hard with a much higher manpower,
    and here we are,
    trying to survive,
    By managing job-work that client brings in,
    also producing our own product,
    ….
    all of this becomes a medley of chaos,
    as I have to prepare the material that we have to work on,
    to get finally paid by the client…

    My work day starts as soon as I close this blog,
    As I get ready to leave for work,
    and my work carries on till 8 -8:30 in the evening,
    and then comes a forty-five-minute drive,
    on a good day 25 minutes,
    and as i am returning home,
    I have to pick up necessities,
    which takes ma an additional half an hour,
    so,
    I’m at home around 9-9:30 Ish in the evening,

    Guess the work and personal life balance…?
    (The cherry on top,
    my working days go on until Sunday,
    and my weekly off is on Monday,
    yes,
    you heard it right,
    Monday,
    When everyone is dragging themselves to work,
    I am chilling at my crib…)

    Would you call this a balanced work and home life…?

    Cheers 🥂

    Love Waakiye 🤍

    The work that goes into work,
    making things work,
    has to take a toll on someone,
    and that becomes me,
    worries about our targets,
    timely delivery,
    and coordinating with those
    who are involved in the process…

    Often I find myself,
    crushed,
    broken beyond repair,
    these clothes are dirty,
    these hands are blacked like metals,
    dust that goes in the air,
    oil smudges here,
    grease stains there,
    but,
    working this life,
    this black life,
    like steel by heating it,
    quenching it to provide strength,
    and then tempering to finally be able to work under pressure…


    This life is a pill,
    that’s hard to swallow,
    and hurts often,
    passing through the esophagus,
    like it has thorns akin to roses,
    but,
    when this tired body hits the bed,
    To take much needed sleep,
    to self it feels like a much deserving break;

    Not far from these are thoughts that haunt,
    when sleep breaks in the night,
    and all the thoughts come at once,
    A haunting…
  • “Iss Chehre Se Muskaan Naa Jaaye”

    Iss chehre se muskaan naa jaaye…!

    Jabh se paaya unhe,

    Jabh sunay woh meri har baat,

    Mere khyaal,

    Mere iss choti se dunya ko chaar chand jo lagaaye…

    Iss chehre se muskaan naa jaaye….!

    Anjaan thay,

    Thokar khaa kar tootay baithe thay,

    Dekhte thay ek doosre ko,

    Kose’tay thay apne aateet ko,

    Mar kar kaat rahe thay apna vartamaan,

    Naa thee ek aache kal kee ummeed,

    Jeen’ay ki aas jo bhula baithe,

    Naa jaane kitna kuch peeche chord aaye;

    Magar aaj,

    Iss chehre se muskaan naa jaaye….!

    Toot ke bikhar’ne par,

    Kisi ko apne paas naa paa kar,

    Dil ko apne aap behlaa-fuslaa kar,

    Naa jaane kitne pal karwaton main gawaa’ye,

    Uss kamre kee deewaro ko raaz maaloom,

    Aur,

    Uss takhiye ko jisme samaaye woh jo mere hisse aaye,

    Par aaj…

    Iss chehre se muskaan naa jaaye….!

    Intezaar,

    Iss dhoop kadak’tee main,

    Thand kee ek lehar banke aaye,

    Jabh bhee unki deed aaye mere aage,

    Chede aaj mujhe meri sakhi’an,

    Naam leke woh ko kareeb mere,

    Gaal surkh laal ho jaaye,

    Pasina aane lagay,

    Chede jabb mujhe meri sakhi’an,

    Subeh aur shaam yaad jabb aaye woh,

    Mujhse raha naa jaaye..

    Iss chehre se muskaan naa jaaye….!

    Aaj milna jo humne,

    Dekhu main apne aap ko,

    Kapde badal badal ke,

    Kisme khoobsurat lagti main,

    Maa baba dono pareshaan,

    Kaise aaj iss chehre par dukh nahi,

    nirasha ka aansh nahi,

    Kaise aaj iss chehre par ek muskaan…?

    Dill-lagi jo hisse aayi mere,

    Kaise iss chehre se muskaan jaaye,

    Ishq,

    jisko bhula baithi thee main,

    Badnaam kar gaya thaa zindagi meri;

    Par aaj,

    Shar-e-aam,

    Main mujh se kahu;

    Pyaar,

    Hisse aaya jo tere,

    Jiss’se samsaar dikhe ek naye rang se:

    Ek naye rang main paaya apne aap ko;

    Khoye jo mere raaz,

    Dil jo mera gaaye jaise ek raag,

    Uss naam,

    Woh jo mere kareeb,

    Uska saaz,

    Toh phir kyo naa ho,

    Iss chehre par ek muskaan…?

    Love Waakiye 🤍