You know, our world has lost its music to the broken records of numb melancholy! Our hearts look like abandoned graves with dead corpses of beautiful love stories buried underneath. Those despised gravestones glow at night, and one of them grows a tiny pink flower every time it rains!

Do you know how much it pains to be the only ray of life in the land of death? It hurts as bad as the last push, which devours the life out of a birthing mother… except, this pain won’t end in the music of a baby’s first cry! Instead, it will fall in the shallow curve of a fading smile!

Three months ago, when I met you, I remember frowning at your story! It was the same old chronicle of a saddening sunset that kept you from gasping at the beauty of your mourning sun.
You told me how you ran behind the dying glaze of that somber afternoon, trying to pause time… you wanted those shades of gold to paint your life forever. I remember listening to you as you sobbed on my shoulder, in the silence of those lonely midnights.

In those moments, you know, I wanted to take your hands in mine, spill my sunshine into your world and then call it a sweet accident. I didn’t… I didn’t until you told me to!

I didn’t, until you woke up one day, pulled me into a corner, and bared your heart. You wanted my fingers to trace the hem of your bleeding wounds. You wanted me to fall into your tired arms, put all the scattered pieces back together, and build a humble abode for us.

I don’t know if you will be happy to know this, but I fell for those dreams! I fell for the way your eyes shined at the thought of that! I fell for the way you set my soul ablaze. So, I… I chose to stay there!
I unpacked my bags and started decorating those old wooden shelves with shiny charms and painted vases. I pulled the old curtains down to let the sun in! I made the bed, smiling at the idea of ‘us’ in it! I cooked food… and then!

Then, I took a chair, sat in front of the door, and waited… for seconds, minutes, hours… I waited as the noisy hands of your wall clock went around it! I waited until I ran out of breath; till my eyes started to daze in sleep… I waited for an eternity!

You never came back home… you never did!

I wanted to wait, but I can’t wait any longer! So, I am leaving this letter under your favorite blue vase. When you find it, it may rain over the gloom in your heart. Just walk around and look for a tiny pink flower, smile at it, and bask in its rarity.

Because it takes courage to be the only ray of life in the land of death. That courage, when shown, must be celebrated!

Still waiting in a flower somewhere,
G.

 

Last year in December, I gathered my courage and dived into this amazing and exciting world of blogging! I decided to publish the chapters from a story I wrote three years ago.

For me, the blog was just an escape! Honestly speaking, I could have never imagined the kind of response that the story received and since then, the journey has been nothing but magical!

Because of the lovely support from all of you, the ‘writer inside me’ got the opportunity to venture into the realms of poetry and I found my home there!

This blog and all the lovely people who have joined me here in the community, mean a lot to me! “From the quill” changed everything and it is the best thing that has ever happened in my life till now!

But, with all the bittersweet emotions in my heart *cue emotional music*, I have decided to leave that title behind and change the name of my beautiful baby *self-obsessed mom* *hehe* to “Life in yellows”

You don’t have to follow or subscribe again! It’s just a change in the domain name and the aesthetic of the blog! You will keep on receiving notifications regarding new posts and the content will still be literary and poetic!!

I am so happy to have you along on this wonderful journey! Your love and support mean the world to me!

So, without further ado, let us begin with the new chapter!

Shall we?

 

Have you ever stared down the demonic depths of a dingy abyss?

Or

Have you ever felt that sudden urge to resign…when those dark eyes of lucid heights call you?

If not… then allow my words,
To take you,
Through the tranquilizing horror,
And the anxiety-ridden silence,
Of that moment.

That moment when life knocks you down,
You hit your head on the cold and rough floor;
The world goes dead;
Your feet go numb;
Your eyes meet the dark;
And your ears…
Your ears embody those maniacs,
Who talk to the hushed nights
And claim to have learnt the secrets of life.
Those maniacs might be poets!!

Anyhow…

That moment, my friend…
Can be the death of your soul.
That moment, my friend…
Can bequeath you with scars…so deep;

So deep…
That an artist won’t shy away before carving them onto a stone and shouting out loud,

“Has the world ever seen a carve so abstract?”

You… my friend,
Will be standing in that crowd of mute spectators,
About to raise your hand to claim that,

“This is the relic to my crippling agony!”

But…
Those words will never leave your lips;
Your teeth will bite your tongue before it sins to let them out!

Why?

Because…
When you take your pain and pour it onto those words;
When those words escape your mouth and reach some ears;
Then… your pain comes to life;

It becomes your “Forever”!

The night smothered you,
With the smoke that rose above,
The burnt remains
Of your tender heart.

Now…
Now, your lungs ache,
Your guts lie,
Tied in knots,
Churning,
Wringing your life out of you.

Coiled like a foetus,
Drenched in tears,
Is that you?
Who carved these scars
Deep… in the tenders of your skin.
Is that a memoir
To your unworthy sin?

Pulling your hair,
Clenching your jaw,
Is that you?
Who strangled that beauty,
Over the rotting remains,
Of the fantasy of a paradise?

I know…
I know my friend,
You’ve waited for the dawn…
Like the staunch nightingale,
Waits for the last of the amber,
To fade away.

Don’t you fall prey,
To your bouts of fear!
Don’t you dare concede,
To the taunts,
Blurted by the deadly demons,
Of your crippling anxiety…!

For…
The dawn mustn’t shine
On your grave….

6 months ago, I remember writing this post for the milestone of 500 followers. Trust me, I was definitely at cloud nine and that’s where my obsession with the follower count subsided.

I had no idea, that I’d be reaching the next milestone so early.

For me, it’s not just a follower count, but this blog and the blogging community means much more than just numbers. This blog is the best thing that has happened to me in life so far.

I am so grateful for all of you and for the amazing support. It is such a pleasure to have you here on this journey and it’d be my honour to have you along even in the future.

Thanks for stopping by and taking the time to read, comment and follow.

I hope that I have been providing you with some quality content.

With lots of love,

Gauri Walecha.

That rugged and withered wooden door…it stood in front of me as it greeted my somber mask… A mask, my soul wore with pride.

My hand reached out for the door knob and rested at it for a while.

I stared at my hand….with eyes hollow enough to engulf the world around me.

Paying my due respects to the time I wasted for this inane ritual, I tightened my grip and opened the door…. closing my eyes, for…I expected to meet a sharp and piercing glare.

But… Rather…I was welcomed by ostracizing darkness.

I stepped inside the room, unknown to the world that lay ahead.

My fear would have paid the merchants well… The room lit up, as bright as a jovial day… as soon as I stepped in.

I was in the middle of a sea of books… both, bulky and thin.

Yes… It was a library… except, this one wasn’t preaching me some modern science. They called it, “The library of life”.

A book called me out. It was the frailest of them all… Its cover was as dark as nothing.

I pulled it out. The cover refused to share an essence to the wisdom ahead, hence… tempting me to dive into the book.

I followed suit, out of grave curiosity.

A cruel flash of light fell on my eyes, forcing me to turn my face away.

The mystic gleam, soon, faded away… and, I… I dared to look at the only page.

It was, but, a mirror.

Engraved at the top, was a sentence that must always echo in my head…

“For once, you may challenge the facts, but the wise don’t question ordeal.”

That was the greatest book of them all.

It compelled me to read myself.