~Rantings of a Wandering Mind~

And suddenly, every street felt like you... Warm... Familiar... Just like home. Like, they knew all about the shared laughters and stolen glances... Like they knew all about the lovestory Written long ago by two young hearts Long before they knew, what Love felt like. Like they knew everything, about the sunsets spent together By the side of the lake.... Watching the little fishes play in the glistening golden ripples As the birds sang their way home. Like, they knew...how the warmth of your touch Still lingers over the skin of my palms. And how, the coffee shop still smells of your favourite colonge. How the wind still plays with my curls, just like you did, And carresses my goosebumps, one by one. How the raindrops still tickles my face, reminding me of my beloved, Far away, and yet so close... And how the dark clouds smiles at me, As they read out his unsent letters,  Word by word. And suddenly, every street felt like you... Warm... Familiar... Just like home. Like they knew all...

 ...and this time, we were no longer the friends that we used to be. The ones, that sat together on the same bench, Ate from the same plate, Laughed at the same poor jokes. We were two people, that once shared a bond A bond, that seemed stronger than the friendship bands adorning our wrists... As if, that single beaded thread could hold us together. As if, we would never part ways, And become strangers one fine day. As if, distance would never creep in, And those shared secrets would never be spilled. As if, we would not meet again, at an unknown place, And keep going, like we didn't know each other... Without any formal smile Or a few words, about how all these years have changed us. About how life has been And how we have survived. As if...we would never again sit on the two sides of the same table, And not even bother to look up, for once. As if, we would never feel heavy,  In a moment, that was supposed to be a gush of fresh air. And here we are, with some faded memories S...

The night did not speak, But something in the darkness knew my name… Was it, the faint whisper of my curtains Flirting with the distant winds,  Like a ballerina dancing with her lover... To the trembling, mischievious beats of my heart?? Was it, her giggles, as the winds from the sea teased her... Bringing her stories of beautiful mermaids playing in the waves, Or, promising her pearl necklaces, from the unfathomed depths of the oceans... Just like, someone had promised his heart to me??? Was it, the scent of the distant jasmines and plumerias, Enticing me to dance with the fireflies To the songs of the rustling leaves... Like, I was a teenager, enamored over her first love?? Did they tempt me, to tiptoe into the dreams of my beloved, Soundly asleep, in some distant horizon, Blissfully unaware of the butterflies fluttering within my heart, Stealing my sleep, And painting dreams in my sleepless eyes?? Was it, just the moon, calling me out, Like a girl calling another, To share secre...

 It wasn't the dagger that hurt... It wasn't the pain, either. It was the face.... The old familiar face, That was suddenly a stranger. The same old familiar face, That stood behind my back... Holding the dagger, stained with my blood. It wasn't the wound that broke me... It wasn't the bloodshed, either. It was the face.... Cold and unfamiliar. Strewn with lies... Strewn with betrayal... It was the face, that I had once loved. The eyes, I had once trusted, Mocked me with cold satisfaction... Of defeating my entire being. Of defeating my existance. Of proving me wrong, in every way possible. It wasn't the backstab, that killed me... It wasn't the deception, either... It was the one who deceived. The one, I had trusted more than my own self My friend.... My companion... The one, I had always called my home, And to whom, I had always been one. And I let down my guard... I just let it go. I could have fought... I could have shouted... I could have tried... But exhau...

 I had a garden... That was once shattered, By storms unknown. A garden, that lay in a mess With dried leaves and dead flowers. With broken boughs... With graves of the butterflies... And with some unfinished stories. I had a garden, where I sat and wept, At my incomplete poetries, and dilapidated canvas Where I had once dreamt of painting my dreams. I looked at my fingers, that could once create magic, That was long forgotten, within the depths of time. For once, I wanted to believe, For once, I wanted to hope, For once, I decided to try again,  And whispered, "One more time...." Casting one last spell, I looked up, above. And there it was!!!... The entire Universe buzzing with life Glittering like conffetti, Rearranging....realigning.... Rewriting stories of the most beautiful garden I could ask for. The stars came down to create jasmines and lillies And the moon came down to be my muse. The sun smiled bright, as the rains drenched me with love, And the rainbow sprinkled al...

  “Life, my dear, is too short to regret…” The distant familiar voice echoed from the hollows of the intensive care unit, amidst the constant beeping of the machines that were supposed to keep me alive. I sighed….how futile everything seemed, now, that I was on the threshold of life and death. The wires held on to my fingers and wrists…like they could keep me tied to this place. I knew…my moment had arrived. I had always wondered how death feels like…how my last moments would be…and yet, in my last few moments, all I was left with…was regret. I wished…for one last time, to live the Life I had been blessed with…….and this time, I wanted to live, to die without regrets. What if……..I had the courage to speak out??? What if…..for once I had listened to myself??? What if……. The doctor’s warm touch over my left hand broke my reverie. Did he look hopeful about me???...could I find one last chance to live???...could death evade me for this one time, only to let me live and set things...