Sunflowers and Lilacs

 

 

 

Whenever I see you, I think a lot of lovely things about you. How wonderful your smile is, how engaged your eyes are when you speak about something you are passionate about, how good life looks on you. I wish on every drop of the ocean, that I had the courage to speak these words to you because I think you are lovely . . . but it’s like I have flowers in my mind and weeds in my mouth.

Before meeting you, I was perfectly fine in my empty castle filled with books and music and candles and words and cats but you entered and you are so like coffee, I am addicted. I imagine us solving crosswords together and cleaning each other’s coffee stains, and hogging the blankets to steal the warmth which is always so promising.

After you left, I was miserable. I used to think a lot about you, and wonder if your ears ring. If it does, it is not because you are broken. It’s only because I thought about you entirely too much, it was unhealthy. You reminded me of the wild sunflowers at the top of the hill, and now whenever I walk in the garden, I look for them, always getting disappointed when I saw roses instead.

After missing you for too long, I met this amazing guy. He smells like lilacs and something sweet. Whenever we have coffee, I add extra sweeteners because that’s how my life is right now. One day, our hands brushed when he was adding cream to my coffee. After that, he gave me a warm smile.

I like his smile too much. As much as yours.

So, when we walk in the garden, I still find myself looking for wild sunflowers. But here’s the thing: I’ll always look for wild sunflowers. But now, I have found a reason to look for lilacs too.

And lilacs, in my opinion, are beautiful.

When Someone Says Nothing. . .

When I was younger, I used to feel like my presence really didn’t matter. That if I was not in someone’s life, then I would be replaced very easily.

I felt like vacuum. A thing without substance. Without matter.

Nothing.

However, over the years, I have realized that this is definitely not the case. We, the human beings, are made up of all the things we have ever experienced, we have ever loved. We might have forgotten some of the things which did exist. Like an old candy which you would love when you were, say, three. An old bicycle fall which had left a scar on your body which has seemingly faded.

These things might fade inside you but you will never fade inside of these things.

We all have had experiences where a seemingly haunting memory – be it a line which triggers your deepest insecurity or fear hurts you. It’s a simple sentence for someone who throws it at you, but you are the person who has to live with it for the rest of your life. All these things are similarly true for all the bright, good things you do in your life.

It’s a ripple effect. We may be invested more in the waves which bring wreckage, but we often forget the waves which kiss your feet lovingly.

Recently, I saw a woman in a train reading one of my favorite classics – Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë, which brought a smile on my face, bringing all the happy moments I had while I read the book (and also the fact that people read some classic which is not Pride and Prejudice). Just like this, the tiniest of your deeds have a ripple effect. Be it a conversation with your friend which may inspire someone to alter their life altogether. It can be a song which you listen in your cab ride, which reminds someone of the hardships they had gone through and how they rose above all of it. You wear a dog-printed shirt, and boom! you remind someone of their pet they dearly missed because they are in a new city.

If you were the quiet kid during your high school, someone must have felt guilty for not making an effort to talk to you, and transforms into an outgoing person during their university days. You smile at a waiter in a restaurant, and your smile makes his day easy when he deals with rude customers. You don’t eat your lunch, and one of your friends scolds you about how you might be anorexic might make someone realize about their eating disorder. You post something on your social media about a sensitive issue, and it helps someone deal with their demons. The sight of you makes someone remember about their long lost friend, and they finally decide to call them.

There are so many, so many could-have-beens and might-haves.

You pass the waves created by your ripple effect to your friends, your siblings and their children. It goes on and on forever. So even if you live the minimalist, most boring life humanly possible, keep your chin up because you are much more than what you think you are. Nothing fades into nothingness, ever. Doesn’t matter if you notice the ripple effect, or the world doesn’t notice ripple effect you have caused, its present, right there – around you.

You might feel like a supernova which catastrophically burns into nothingness, but do not forget, you also burn bright enough to be someone’s wishing star.

 

 

 

When I Went Shopping.

I’m going to write about jeans and dresses today and not any clichéd poem. AND NO, this is not a fashion blog.

I’m definitely not the first girl who hates shopping. It’s exhausting and having a loaded wardrobe as a dream for every girl is a myth and so clichéd. Have you been living under a rock if you believe in this shit?

Wardrobe shopping has always been a chore, and I always dreaded trailing from one end of the store to another in the search of the perfect fit. I hate dressing up, and there’s no point in trying too hard if people like you naturally.

Just kidding.

When I was younger, I would select dresses which I liked but they wouldn’t like me anyway and would always end up being stuck midway, which used to tear me up often.

They should fit me! Fuck, they fit the XYZ girl so they should fit me too.

My thoughts exact during those days. Tragic, I know.

Once when I was out with my mom for shopping for jeans, I got a pair, and went to the trial room, thinking they would perfectly fit me. When I slipped them in, and realized the jeans didn’t fasten in the front, and my thighs felt like they were drained of oxygen, I was frustrated then. I thought that maybe, just maybe I should buy them to make my mom and the other people in the store believe that they did fit and my waist line hadn’t grown by another size.

And no, I didn’t follow the cliché of keeping the jeans in my wardrobe, and deciding to lose weight magically so that I could fit into them! IDK, but something inside me changed after that incident but I’m pretty sure it has nothing to do with I’ve grown wiser (read dumber) with age. I faced a lot of body-shaming during my younger days by some girls who shall not be named but now I don’t care if you call my ass fat or my cheeks too swollen. People body shame in discreet and publicly on social media. The same people also post on girl love, thinking they’re feminists. Such delusion, much wow. Anyway, just shove your middle finger to them in your mind if they undermine your self-confidence or make you believe something you are not.

Because no one’s really fat, and these labels do not define the person you are. You’re not fat, you’re just a cute, chubby, little extra-cuddable chummy, so just embrace it. The people who love you, will always love you. No matter what.

So anyway, what really made me write this is that today, I went to a store for my birthday shopping, (AND NO, I hate birthdays–who would celebrate the fact that they’re growing older every year? Sigh.) I just bought a pair of jeans, without bothering to go for a trial. They might not even fit this plus sized body.

But you know what? I DON’T GIVE A FUCK. Because even if they don’t fit, there’s always a return option to save your money…smh.

So hello, I’m Aishwarya and all my dresses are of large size. And I really don’t bother. Why do you?

A Lot Like Moon & Stars

he reminisced his story with hers
bittersweet, a lot like moon and stars
he was a breathless wanderer
and she was his starkissed wayfinder

she was in love with the way he’d smile
he couldn’t wait to take her to the aisle
he would tell her about his wounded existence
and she would teach him to trace the constellations.

but soon he realised she was a supernova, treacherous.
if they could be the endgame, it’d be just be miraculous.
he gave up against his fate, full of emotion
but she was the bellatrix, she fought till her exhaustion.

knowing she was earmarked under the spell of the disease,
he didn’t give up, stayed with her for her ease
with every passing night, she was slowly dying
he was kissing her but from within slowly breaking

one night, she spiralled towards her end
he was just living, trying to keep himself sane
the nights are lonely for the mysterious moon
hoping he gets another chance to get starkissed soon.

Broken Record

 

i was once a melody
but now i’m out of tune.
my heart which was fragile is now
a broken record and forever scarred.

you were like the new guitar
and i thought i was your string.
but maybe we weren’t in resonance,
or maybe the lyrics went wrong.

i picked up the pen, the music sheets
and wrote these broken rhapsodies.
my fragile heart couldn’t bear the force,
your eyes always harmonized with me.

you took another string instead of me,
t’was more thrilling, more endearing.
your painted me the shade of crimson,
and i started romanticizing this ache.

you’ll always find another string.
and after years, i’ve realised now,
we’re all artists in this small world,
we’ve our own instruments to live for.