T-E-A

My best friend

Amidst the crowd of students,
in the race of career
I traced her just as another face
to compete with,
to share the journey with
without the idea that one day
she will be mandatory to make my days complete,
without being aware of the truth that
she is going to snatch a major share of my life.

Since then we have collided with farness.
We have met closeness.
But time and distance have never stood as enemies to our friendship.
Staying near, staying apart
each day our friendship has ascended the stair of eternity.
It will touch the peak too.
We will never let it remain halfway.
Afterwards, we will never let it decline anyway.

Hiding nothing & anything from each other,
embracing our imperfections
without misjudging the another
Flowing glee in one’s happiness,
breathing despair in one’s lowness
caressing each other’s taunts & tantrums
we dare to walk hand in hand
in the darkest alley of life,
carrying our emotions at our backs.

Absorbing the colour of her virtues,
reflecting the light of her advice,
stumbling thousand times
I learnt, I’m learning
to fight with my fears
& to oppose the obstacles approaching,
And she keeps teaching me
million times the same thing
with the very same meaning
without the perspiration of exhaustion.

When misunderstandings roar at us,
when fights frighten us,
when silence speaks in the space between us
then her adjustment, my agreement,
our apology, our understanding
get summed up to make
the frequency of our friendship louder.
But the pool of anger & ego
fails to lure us
as we love to dive into the ocean of each other
in spite of every hurdle,
at at any cost
without any specified reason.

I know every day she loves me more,
more than yesterday.
But that more will never be enough.
Because I crave for the most, most of her love.
Still, my heart skips a beat,
my faith fumbles
when the world shows me millions of friendship beginning & ending within a day or two
when I see her love soaring towards her other friends, towards her boyfriend
my fear for future groans claiming the uncertainty of our bond.

How can I measure the depth of our bond,
How can I quantify the worth of her!
when our bond is fathomless
& for me she is priceless
I admit, I admit that
I become selfish, I become insecure
when it comes to her, when it comes to our friendship.
Tell me how can I afford to let her go one inch away from my heart,
How can I allow anything to slacken our bond a bit
when I need her, so much & always
the way summer seeks breeze
the way winter smiles with snow
the way spring loves foliage
the way autumn links with maple,
when my prayer pleads to the Almighty
for granting our friendship an infinity & beyond…
©ruchiabhisikta

HAPPY INTERNATIONAL FRIENDSHIP DAY TO ALL💛💛💛

Let the words write me

I wrote these words. And these words wrote me.

1. Saying hello first doesn’t come under my necessary wants. But saying goodbye is a luxury for me that I can’t afford.

2. I get hurt in small simple things. But the smallest of things and simplest of moments make me happy.

3. I am never afraid of admitting that I own millions of flaws, I have faced many failures. But I am more than my flaws & higher than my failures.

4. I never take anyone for granted. I also don’t let anyone take me for granted. Never.

5. If I trust you, I’ll try hard to not let any situation to slacken that trust and will try harder to not let you do anything that fades my faith in you. But if my trying don’t make any sense to you, I’ll impose neither my trust nor my doubt upon you. I’ll just let you go.

6. Tears drench me often. And I’m not ashamed considering it as my weakness. I feel stronger each time I dry them by myself.

7. I can’t open my heart out in front of everyone, everywhere. You may call me boring for that. Only few people know how crazy & sassy I am. And I want that few to remain few.

8. In the entire world, I love my baba the most. And I know my mami feels happier when I say it. I am nothing without both of them.

9. I don’t have an empire of friends. I have some that I can count in my fingers and store in my heart forever. Some of them can’t even be categorised as friends because they feel a lot like family, a lot like home.

10. I don’t want someone who will say me I love you. Because I say this line to me daily when I stand in front of the mirror. I need someone who will make me feel loved by saying I love Us, with justified confidence.

11. I save my little anger for the people who mean so much to me. I gift that to them in abundance, often, but not for a longer period.

12. In today’s competitive world of comparison, I love to live my own story, fight my own battle which can’t be like any other and I enjoy applauding for the joy of others.

13. I hate full stops. I love to hang as an apostrophe after the names of people I love.

14. I can’t be defined in adjectives because adjectives are meant for comparison. I’m not a synonym because synonyms are meant for replacement. I am the personification of abstracts you don’t know.

15. I am the meaning of my own name. Abhisikta. And I don’t need your validation for that. (Laughs)
©ruchiabhisikta

Unsolved Question

Books publish eminent personalities say
No yesterday no tomorrow only today

Never imagine future nor cling to the past
Live present moment as if it is the last

But often my heart asks my brain
Is it possible to run on the crude path
of today?
Without a peaceful walk in the memory lane

Is it doable to work restlessly day and night?
Without envisaging yourself at the greatest height

How can we separate such a virilely
bonded relation
Like summer spring and rain

Then are we Gods and Goddesses
Or mere men and women???
©ruchiabhisikta

Palak Mathri

Preparation of palak mathri made me realise these things-

1. Bunch of spinach is just like me, just like you, just like an individual, bundling many useful virtues green, protecting some useless goodness wilted, unable to leave few ugly vices weedy. Few are the people who can notice the raw you, fewer are the people who accept the unprocessed you and fewest are the people who put effort to turn you into better you. And in front of the rest world, you will try to present yourself as processed you, cleaned from imperfection, chopped with expectation, ground to crush your individuality, strained for being a bit more ‘fit for the world’ you.

2. When shapeless moisture meets with loose flour, the dough is made, tight. When unbound trust meets with scattered hope, the bond is made, tighter.

3. Rolling the dough balls makes me realise pain is less about the exhaustion of the body, more about that shit chewing your mind with the thought that I have expended this much energy. The body is not a cage to mind, but a meant to free the mind.

4. Cut shapes are like somethings which seem better in bits, not in a size big, which can be kept longer in pieces, not in whole. Adore little moments, store shredded memories. They feel better, last longer.

5. Those poured pieces in hot oil are like bathed emotions in the burning liquid of eyes which turns strength after being fried in adversities.

6. Tasting feels a lot like saying ok. Because good is an overconfident word and bad is a harsh word.

7. Adding spice makes me think why the same recipe tastes better than the hostel when cooked by mother. Maybe always food doesn’t taste according to spice, sometimes unadulterated love makes it yummier.

8. Packing feels a lot like filling effort with no expectation and sealing it with love with no expiry date.

9. Deciding the price after drawing the lines of profit and loss made me regret for not drawing a smile in an innocent face by not buying a chips packet for ten bucks from the kid at traffic who keeps pleading. If I bought that from him, I could have sold some inner poorness.

10. Inserting labels reminds me how I love to hang as an apostrophe after the names of people who are the world to me and feel special when I realise that so ordinary I am in this vast world. It feels good to become solely special for the few who are special to you and to become completely ordinary for others.

©ruchiabhisikta12

Ratha yatra 2020

After an immediate decision of the supreme court, after a prolonged wait of the devotees, it happened, it happened in spite of all the catastrophe prevailing in the globe, in spite of all the obstacles coming in its way. Today, although millions of hands were deprived of dragging the ropes of their sacred chariots, zillions of hearts held the hope that Lord Jagannath would always pull the journey of their lives in the right path. Overcoming the vicious circle of thousand anticipations & arguments, finally He stepped out of his sacred palace along with God Balabhadra & Maa Subhadra, amidst the sound of chants, conches, bells & drums, amidst the fragrance of Sandal, Ocimum, incense sticks & flowers. In recent time, when new regulations, modern technologies are raising their heads to make the notorious corona bow down, the happening of this occasion is the proof that spirituality isn’t a synonym of toxic superstition & devotion isn’t similar to sceptic orthodoxy. This pandemic confined his festival in his native, Puri only; but the feeling for him, the faith in him spread more miles beyond the ocean, beyond the sky. In today’s world of social distancing & sanitisation, He sanitised our souls with deep belief & led our souls towards divinity, towards eternity…

Finally, Happy Rathayatra happened🙏
©ruchiabhisikta

My Lord Jagannath

O My Lord Jagannath!

No pompous poem of any poet can portray your glory

No thought of any philosopher can explain your mystery

No paintbrush of any painter can sketch your beauty

No frame of any photographer can capture your radiance

No sculpture of any sculptor can duplicate your structure

No curriculum of any university can teach your culture

No perfume of any brand can spread the aroma of your Tulasi* and Chandan*

No dish of any restaurant can copy the flavour of your abadha*

No vehicle of any generation can possess the significance of your chariot

No treasure of any emperor can buy your empire

No place of world can have the smoothness of your sharadhabali*

No obstacle in life can block the path of your devotees

No festival of Odisha can overcome the grandeur of your Rathayatra*

Because

You are the only cure to many ached hearts

You are the only solace to many lost souls

You are the only air to many suffocated breaths

You are the only vision to many weeping eyes

You are the only utterance to many muted voice

You are the only support for many disabled bodies

Because

You are the faith

You are the feeling

You are the life of many lives

Whenever I go to your Badadeula*, Your palace

I may return empty-handed but each time with a filled heart.

From my heart, these are not only the mere flow of words but my dedication of love and gratitude to my Lord, my Jagannath🙏

*Tulasi – Ocimum

*Chandan – Sandal

*Abadha – Food offered to God during worship and then distributed among the devotees

*sharadhabali – Sand of this divine land

*Ratha yatra – Car festival

*Badadeula – Jagannath temple

******all these are Odia words

All my beloved fellow writers here, you must visit the sacred Jagannath Dham of Puri, Odisha, India.

Then you can feel the truth of Lord Jagannath’s splendour by yourself😊

HAPPY RATHA YATRA TO ALL🙏

©ruchiabhisikta

My love will

You may thrust me into darkness, but I will return to you as the sunrays that scatter through your window every morning.

You may suffocate me to cry the river, but I will return to you as petrichor that enchants your parched soul.

You may devastate me as the storm, but I will return to you as gentle zephyr that caresses your face.

You may leave my hand in the crowd, but I will return to you as a fallen leaf when you will sit alone.

You may throw me as unwanted seed, but I will return to you as the blooming Zinnia that adorns your garden.

You may dip me in the sea of gloominess, but I will return to you as the wave that kisses your feet.

You may pierce me from within by your words but I will return to you as a soothing melody that alleviates your despair.

You may impel my eyes to moisten my cheeks, but I will return to you as the force that pulls your lips to smile.

You may go away from me when I need you the most, I will never obstruct your path. But I will wait to embrace you if you return.
And I believe that one day my love will return you to me as my true lover forever.

©ruchiabhisikta

Train & Thoughts

Indian railway tracks are always in conflict with the mobile networks.
While travelling in a train,
Sometimes I curse this conflict so much when my stagnant mind can do nothing except staring blankly at the zero network of my phone.
Sometimes I enjoy this conflict to the fullest when my heart succeeds in storing some words and emotions in the memo of my phone.

Sometimes I wanna observe deeply for a little longer to those feelings filled faces of people standing in the station to receive or to bid bye to their loved ones.

Sometimes I wanna ask those group of transgenders if they also want someone in life to share all the moments good and bad.

Sometimes I wanna take that little pale baby in my arms who peeps so innocently from the lap of his young mother in torn clothes.

Sometimes I wanna give the cake from my bag to that handicapped man with soulful voice instead of searching for jingling coins in my purse.

Sometimes I wanna laugh with the gang of friends in wildest of jokes and munching chocos. Sometimes I wanna ask them if there is any other thing to discuss rather than gossiping something rubbish about others.

Sometimes I wanna listen to the abstract thoughts of the person sitting next to me. Sometimes I wanna ask the aunty in the front seat the reason for her keen gaze on me.

Sometimes I wanna untie my hairs and allow them to romance with the wind flowing from the window. Sometimes I wanna move my head, feet & tongue with the rhythm of that repeat song playing in my phone.

Sometimes I wanna do whatever my heart wishes. Sometimes I wanna say whatever comes to my mind.

But sometimes I don’t wanna think, but can’t stop myself from thinking “What if others will consider me as a sentimental fool, an immature misfit, a nonsense girl!”
©ruchiabhisikta

A conversation on beauty

She: I feel ugly amidst all those pretty girls. please don’t compel me to attend marriage functions.”

Her Mother: What is beauty from your point of view? Tell me.

She: Of course it is the combination of genetics and cosmetics.

Her Father: So you mean to say that your parents aren’t beautiful. Right!

She: None can be more beautiful than them, at least not for my eyes.

Her Mother: Then how do you dare to call our daughter ugly!

She: But Mummie! You know well how much backward I am in this world of mascara, highlighter and lipgloss.

Her Mother: Who restricts you not to apply those! It is your personal choice not to use makeup. But in fact, a smile in face and decency in behaviour are the real beauty of a girl.

Her Father: Daughter! Some years back I found such beauty in a girl and I think you had inherited this beauty from her.

Her Mother: But your daughter is more like you.

They smiled at each other
and she laughed louder.
©ruchiabhisikta

A source of sweetness- Aai

Words which flourish when she waters my thoughts-

1. Her smile is the story of her teethless jawline. Her talk is the tale half-swallowed by her, half-understood by others. Her eating is a poetry, lengthy with less volume.

2. Her face is the silent music of Vedic charm tuning in the lyrics of holy purity. She is a Goddess who appears as a devotee, worshipping fervently.

3. Her palms can’t restrict the running nose of water tap properly. But her pat has enough power to cure a bleeding mind.

4. Dye of desert adorns her skin. But ripples of wrinkles are frozen all over it.

5. Her waist has become bent. It’s not just the result of age. It’s the load of responsibilities she has been carrying all these years, as a daughter, as a daughter-in-law, as a sister, as a sister-in-law, as a mother, as a mother-in-law, as a wife, as a granny, as a woman so strong.

6. The charcoal canvas of her scalp is now painted with numerous lines of white. And her mid parted alley is still clear where vermilion walks boldly.

7. Her romance ride has come to a halt. But that bindi kissing her forehead, those bangles embracing her hand, those toerings clinging her toes sing how her love for Ajaa still revolves like a circle endlessly.

8. Autumn has settled in her body permanently without waiting for the arrival of spring anymore. But the season in her eyes never remains dry when she murmurs about the illness of her offsprings.

9. It’s hard for her to learn & use technology. It’s harder for technology to limit & understand her.

10. Her age has withered. Her energy has evaporated. But her significance in our lives will breathe not for life long, but longer than life.

©ruchiabhisikta12

*Aai – maternal grandmother

*Ajaa – maternal grandfather

Wrap your grandparents with love & warm your heart. They need it. You need to do it.

A child bride

Burying the tender child within me

Nurturing the matured bride within me…

Scattering my desire to study in school and play with pals

Gathering the courage to restrict me within four walls…

Forgetting the yearn for an independent life, a bright future

Learning to survive in darkness, to adapt my cruel culture…

Losing my identity as a human, the most special creation of Almighty

Accepting myself as an unfortunate girl, the toy in the hand of destiny…

©ruchiabhisikta

Love of the lifeline

Clouds in the sky changing from ghostly shape to serene sedan
Adorning themselves with hues of white, lavender and blue
In symphony with them, my mind is swaying here and there
In quest of an idea to write something soulful, special & true

Varied thoughts are approaching
Excited are the words to embrace them
But still discontented is my heart
So confused is my soul
Helpless me, exhausted me

Pressing my palms on my ears with my eyes closed
But still, I am unable to stop my mind from moving without any gear
Suddenly I see you in front of me with my eyes still unopened
“Ruchi! Don’t be hurried. Be cool”-My pressed ears hear

“Idea is clear and final” now I am dancing on cloud nine
Simultaneously guilt is grasping me from within
Why I spent so much time searching for an idea fine
when I was already bestowed with you, my emotion evergreen

You, the ripple of motivation to my stillness
You, the tranquility of my stormy situation
You, the glimmer of hope in my dark days
You, my constant in the world of alteration

Your advice, the universal solution to
my every problem
Your presence, the reason for my every enjoyment
Your unwavering faith in me, the slap to my every failure
Your smile, the best reward for my every achievement

Your admiration for Mom- for me it is
the definition of love
Your dedication to your official duty – for me it is the definition of honesty
Your concern for the uplift of our family- for me it is the definition of sacrifice
Your tendency of not to hurt anyone – for me it is the definition of simplicity

Your footsteps, my path
Your lap, my heaven

Your shoulder, graveyard to my tears
Your choice, my confirmation

Yet when in front of me you praise someone’s daughter
When you don’t bring me something without reminding you again
Then either my silence or my shout comes forward to show my anger
Because whenever I feel the slightest flaw in your love for me, I become insane

But many times I couldn’t stand up to your expectation
Still, you supported me as always without any complaint
Nothing can block the flow of your care & affection
Because I am your kid imperfect and you are my Papa perfect

I am indebted to Mom for choosing you as her life partner
My heartfelt gratitude to Grandpa & Grandma for nurturing you
I thank God every day for blessing me to be your daughter
Anything and everything in my life owes you, Papa…Owes you…

I know this post is a bit long
But all these words, phrases, sentences, punctuations, rhythm can’t express
How much I love you
What do you mean to me
Why do I adore you the most
Whatever I may write to you will be lesser than less
Because my day starts after receiving your good morning call
And sleep comes to me after touching your feet on my phone screen
Because your love for me was born even before my birth
And my love for you will grow till the end of my lifeline…
©ruchiabhisikta

A Home

Bricks of words
Concrete of punctuations
Beams of languages
Floor of theme
Roof of imagery
Colours of metaphor, simile, hyperbole and personification
Doors of characters
Windows of simplicity and twist
Rooms of poetry, prose and quote
When nomadic emotions of my heart and scattered vocabulary of my mind fell in love with each other,
then my pen transformed my diary into a sweet home to let them make some memories before they drifted apart one day.

©ruchiabhisikta

Realisation of a selfie

While taking a selfie,

I’m not so good at tilting my head in a perfect angle. I’m too bad at drawing a perfect smile on my face.

But each time I take a selfie,

I gaze at me so close, so fixed

I observe how peacefully hollowness slumbers in my eyes.

I see how my eyebrows have become wayward as if there is none to guide them.

I feel how my nose breathes imperfection so perfectly.

I notice how my chapped lips are tenacious enough not to vent out the volume of my heart in front of everyone.

I touch the pimple on my cheek to know if that full stop is going to fade away nearly or continue as an ellipsis.

I run my fingers on the alleys of my parted hairs and shivers with the thought what if oneday like this parted hairstyle the people I love so much will go in their own ways to never cross my path again.

Reading my face this way made me realize why I can’t fit into anyone’s definition of beauty. I realize how hard I am to be loved by someone.

And before clicking the selfie, I smile a little cornered thinking how this Abhisikta reigns her own little realm happily

with the flaws she possesses

with the elegance, she lacks…

©ruchiabhisikta

*Abhisikta is a Sanskrit word that means enthroned girl👸

Sea & Sky

Tangerine Sky was staring at the sea
solemnly

The slothful sea was humming in its own symphony

Quivering waves were kissing the Sun toasted sand gently

Drenched shore was greeting and leaving the waves in harmony

Romance of nature whispered something to my empty heart

The ink of my pen started drizzling on the pages of my diary

Then my deserted diary got flooded with pacific poetry

©ruchiabhisikta

Menstruation

Thousands of thorns piercing her abdomen

Continuous disturbance between her thighs

Even after swallowing forty-eight hours of deadly pain

Every month she cherishes her rebirth and magically survives again

Menstruation is the tears of grief of her aching body

Menstruation is tears of delight of her soul celebrating womanhood

She is the mysterious creation of Almighty

Poignant yet powerful, tender yet tolerant

©ruchiabhisikta

Voice of vibes

Sometimes my heart seems so hollow to float in the ocean of agony,
to be packed with garbage of frustration.

Sometimes my heart seems so tightly filled not to give an inch of space for hope,
not to contain a pinch of happiness.

I can’t express how fragile I feel at that moment. Then I just want to cut the whole of me into small fragments so that I can vaporize from the lives of people as soon as possible.

But at the next moment, I visualize fragments of me joining with each other in the shape of poetry. Tears cascade down my cheeks carrying all the negative vibes.

And then the whole of my soul gets enthralled with the fragrance of each fragment of mine that emanates positive vibes.
©ruchiabhisikta

That night I explored myself

“Sunken are your eyes
Nubian is your nose
Lacklustre are your lips
Pale is your complexion
You can’t sing melodiously
You can’t dance gracefully
You can’t act brilliantly
You are just good for nothing stuff
A personification of imperfection you are.”
Reflection in the mirror pointed at me sarcastically.

With a shrill voice, I murmured
“I know that in this world of makeup, show off where each one tries to cross the other in grabbing the attention of the crowd, very much backward I am. I feel low, crestfallen for that. But I am not sure if I want to change or not.

I had no courage to face the mirror for one more second. I ran to the rooftop, my favorite place just to cry breathlessly in front of shimmering stars. Cool zephyr wiped away the drops on my cheek before my lips sense the saltiness. I just closed my eyes, put my right palm on my left breast. I felt each of my heartbeat saying something.

“In this world where the relationship has become synonym polygamy, you still wait devotedly to pour all your amassed love on your would-be groom.
Nowadays people make friendship just to gain some benefit. But you avoid those friends for whom you really care, just fearing to get attached with them mentally. Maybe because you don’t think yourself deserved enough to remain in their lives forever.
In today’s age photos are clicked with a filter just to post and grab likes in social media. But you do what! You still caress some precious photos in your gallery, feel those moments before you sleep.
Girls don’t attend functions without dabbing makeup. And you don’t know how to apply even kajal. Maybe you don’t want to hide your natural aura under the layer of artificiality.
Now Youngsters don’t find it necessary to ask their parents for the suggestion in any matter. But you consider the decision of your parents as your confirmation in smallest to greatest matters.
People don’t even think twice to behave rudely with others to attain their mean motive. And you still shed bucketful of tears for hours if you contemplate that you hurt someone unintentionally.
Each fraction of your soul breathes uniqueness. Each inch of your heart is filled with selfless love. Why do you consider yourself as a misfit!
Why do you bind yourself in the rope of inferiority complex!
Never expect love from others by showing them the ‘Fake You’. Love yourself accepting all the flaws you own, all the qualities you lack. Don’t estimate your happiness in the view of others. Redefine your own happiness darling!”

A devotee of nature

Jar of colours she is.

With crayon of bounty, she paints smile in his lips sometimes.

With crayon of loss, she draws lines of worry on his forehead sometimes.

She is his Goddess. He is her devotee.

She is the mother earth. He is the farmer.

She can change herself to the extent unexpected.

And he is destined to accept that unexpected.

Dear diary

Sometimes everyone turns deaf to hear the thunder arising from my heart.

It seems everyone is blind to see
the flood in my eyes.

I find no hand trying to control that flood.

I trace no footprints coming for my rescue.

The entire world becomes handicapped to comprehend my plight.

Helpless me

At that moment I feel an eye gazing at me from the corner of my bookshelf. My diary

My pen flows ink as if it has been the patient listener to the thunder of my heart since long.

I locate the metaphors of positivity busy in making bunds to manage the flood in my eyes.

I notice a poetry rushing
to escape me from the calamity of my mind
to show me the sunshine of delight.

Batch Photo

Oneday batch photos will make you feel-

1. The people who once came closer hurriedly to fit in a frame have moved far hurriedly to fit in the world, in the society.

2. The weather of your eyes will change to rainy. Light of delight will shine from the corner of your lips. Your heart will get fertilized with the stored moments from the past. And memories will be cultivated.

3. You won’t notice the flowers in the background haven’t yet wilted. But for a while, you’ll feel the autumn in your body, in your mind turning spring.

4. That few second click doesn’t hold only fleeting candid poses and half-conscious smiles. It breathes millenium. You’ll realize it and a deep sigh will come out.

5. You are still loved and remembered by the people in the photo. It won’t be easy for you to believe this fact. Your belief will remain dangle somewhere a call away, a message away…

Loving myself

Never compel yourself to be one among the majority

Instead, heartily embrace and appreciate your own individuality

No need to wrap yourself in the layers of intricacy

Instead, make your weakness of feeling simple things into your efficacy

Neither consider yourself as ordinary nor call yourself as unique

Instead, crown yourself being uniquely ordinary and stay crowned being ordinarily unique…

Today more love is needed for myself, from myself🤣After all it’s 12th May😋

The speaking solitude

The sun also giggles

The clouds also cry

The wind also murmurs

The leaves also chatter

The ocean also loves

The mountains also salute

The moon also flirts

The stars also forgive

They are the speaking solitude of nature

Who can express much more

Without any oral communication

Simply by their graceful gesture

All men don’t deserve blame

When media feed my mind with the incidents of rapes, domestic violence, & acid attacks, when in front of me surrounding places a platter of cases on eve-teasing, bullying & body shaming, when my heart gets empty seeing the torment of my girlfriends after being ditched for no reason by their undeserving boyfriends, then I don’t find a way without gulping the not-so-infamous sentence “All men are dogs”. I convince my conscience that the mentality & intentions of men are cheap & crooked which can never be straightened for good. I start to doubt myself for trusting the men around me & inside my head. But how can that sentence, that notion chew my belief when I have seen my father behaving his female colleagues with the utmost respect when I have seen him treating my mother like a monarch! How can that notion melt inside my mind when on the faces of my brothers I have seen the hesitation for staying long & overconsciousness for not making anyone uncomfortable during crossing a crowd of females, when I have seen my brother-in-laws making my sisters feel comfortable & fortunate after completely arranged marriages! How can that notion absorb the elixir of my trust when I have seen guilt grasping the man I admire after just saying zero size figure in front me, when I have seen him strengthening me mentally during my period cramps! How can I digest that notion when I have seen my guy friends standing for long to leave seats for girls in a congested place & not leaving until all girls come back during a visit to an unknown place. How can that notion churn my hope in humanity when I have seen my fellow male writers making me aware of the frauds bothering women & when the ink of their pens drop to enhance the women empowerment! How can I propel that notion deep inside my heart when I have seen the doctor in front of whom I once feared to uplift my dress treating female patients so genuinely when I have seen the security dada of our hostel not taking rest in spite of illness just for the sake of our safety! How can that notion continue peristalsis in my mindset when I have seen the driver uncle who drove in a crowded long route after guessing my fright without being concerned about his petrol & time, when I have seen my school guruji bandaging my wound with immense care & my coaching sir being extra careful about his hand movements after an unintentional hand to hand contact while clearing a doubt! How can I change my gratitude into hatred when I have seen goodness dripping from the personalities of many men I know! I think it’s completely lame to throw the mud of blame on a particular gender for the fault of some. Does the crime of some rubbish people of their gender thrust them into the pit of suspicion, don’t they deserve to be treated like good humans! One just needs to possess the right sense of distinguishing.
Biology teaches that it’s the high testosterone that makes a human a man, different from a woman. But who the hell fill the heads of many men that a woman’s body is all about discovering the underneath of bra straps & penetrating inside the panty! How can they forget that they are grown up to this age after being blessed by a vagina & a pair of breasts! If they aren’t feeling grateful for their origins, if they aren’t feeling guilty before committing such heinous crimes, then they aren’t dogs. Because dogs are faithful & these culprits shatter the faith of women in men, in human beings. They are demons meant to be eradicated from the world. They are dust meant to be wiped away from society.
Lastly, let me tell that all aren’t same. So all men don’t deserve blame. ©ruchiabhisikta

Exhausting Ego

Ego is that handcuff which doesn’t permit your hands to hug your beloved even if they are stretched.

Ego is that barrier which prevents the tears to come out of your eyes even if there is flood inside.

Ego is that drug which paralyzes your lips to confess your love even if feelings are impatient to transform into words.

Ego is that drumbeat which stimulates your feet to march fast alone even if they want to walk peacefully with another pair.

Ego is that shield which doesn’t allow your own emotions to penetrate your mind even if they have already escaped from your heart.

Ego is that weed which destroys the beautiful garden of love even if gardeners of love try their best to take care of.

Ego is that cancerous cell of the soul which on proliferation kills the spirit of the soul even if you possess good health and wealth…

The love lyrics

Without words my emotions were like sand castles on beach.
Waves of time always washed them away.

Without emotions my words were like wild creatures in forests.
None had interest to approach them.

The benevolent couple, pen and paper
tried to unite my words and my emotions
And suceeded.
Another couple was made.
Another love story started.

Now each night my words and my emotions chant their love lyrics in harmony.
In that lyrics
I listen the voice of my heart,
feel the serenity of my soul…
©ruchiabhisikta

Avenue of time

In the avenue of time

Seconds slip

Minutes move

Hours hurry

Days develop

Months migrate

Years yield

Seasons scintillate

Moments melt

Memories mature

And life goes on…

Thank you poetry!

Heart throbbing feelings
Suppressed emotions
If come out through lips
May put all the blame
Throw awful shame
On your name
Which will ultimately raise the flame
Of self-blame

But now inside the heart
They can’t remain as tame
Time has already arrived
At any cost to release them

No need to be worried
No need to be confused
Just unlock your heart
Bless them with liberty

Who knows!
To the world
They may appear as gems
They may achieve immortal fame
They may enlighten your name

Then you will exclaim and your success will make people exclaim
As the progenies of your heart, your thoughts, your emotions, your creativity
although same as before
are not lame as before

Now they have wings to fly in the sky of glee
They have voice to reveal the life’s mystery
Now they have united in verses
They have transformed into a poetry
©ruchiabhisikta