I. Do Not Belong

The air was chilly. It was late in the night and I was coming back after being dropped by someone midway. Midway. I could feel the chill. But not the one that was around me, the one that was inside me. I don’t know when I started crying. I don’t know how long I cried. The only words that echoed inside me were these, ‘I do not belong’. ‘I do not belong’. I chanted it until all the salt inside me flowed out.

I do not belong to anyone, anywhere. I do not belong to people I call my own, to home I go everyday, to people I serve. I do not belong to the bunch of people I meet every now and then while sharing poor jokes and good alcohol. I do not belong to that one close friend I deeply care about and get intermittently cared in return. I do not belong to that last relationship, the ashes of which I still carry within me. I do not belong to those casual dates which, if nurtured could have meant something. I neither belong to that fling where lust overpowers sanity and self-respect, nor to that one night stand when I went with somebody I didn’t want to.

I do not belong to those chirpy coffee conversations about wedding planning with girlfriends or to morbid conversations about office politics. I do not belong to those lectures where I am moral policed and also to those freewheeling baseless talks when I am told I can achieve anything I want.

I am almost, always out of place. Almost, always I am somewhere I shouldn’t be, with people I don’t want to be around, doing things I don’t care about getting done, talking about things that don’t matter to me, living a façade. And yet, yet I do not know why do I go along. When every fibre inside me wants me to stop trying to ‘belong’ somewhere, someplace.

Because. I. Do not belong.  

I smell of..

I smell of longing and sweet nothings
Of passion in eyes 
Merging with those browns

I smell of a divided time
That I counted with my heartbeats
And a black watch

I smell of unsaid words
And written diary notes
After which I fidgeted a lot

I smell of fragility, beauty and everything I cannot undo
Then I remembered
That I smell of you.

Y - Yours, Just Yours

He:	You know I am angry with you, right?
She:	Yup, I know. I am just unsure of the reason this time
He:	Why can't you be mine, just mine? I don’t really like it when you talk about your other 'guy' friends
She:	Isn't this hypocrisy coming from you who goes around with a new woman every other month?
He:	I know. But you do know that I can be yours, just yours
She:	Just mine?
He:	Just yours. Do you want me to be?
She:	Nope
He:	No??
She:	No. I don’t want you to be just mine. Because you overwhelm me and exhaust me at the same time. You fill me up and empty me - together. I do not want to own you and I want to own you, both at the same time. Because you are to me what poetry is to poets! We poets are obsessed about our poetry. We love it and hate it at the same time. We marvel at it sometimes, and cringe too. We want others to love our poetry, but we also fear thinking we won't be the only one who shall love it. We want to showcase it to the world, flaunt it, make people jealous of it, but we also want to keep it shut inside the corners of our heart not letting people know what we possess. Poetry... you are my poetry This post is written as a part of April A to Z Challenge - 2015

Yearn : Haiku

Yearn

your warm touch

belongingness misplaced, cravings

indefinable

This post is written as a part of April A to Z Challenge 2014. I am doing two posts for every alphabet. The Non-themed posts can be found here.

Our Blogs, Our Homes !!

Our Blogs. Thinking about mine brings a smile to my face. Does yours bring too? I was just thinking how they are an extension of us. Can we call them our second homes? They say home is where heart is. And our blogs certainly have our hearts, don’t they?

The look of our house has to be like us, like people residing in it. Traditional or bohemian, black & white themed or dashed with colours, or a mix of everything. Remember, while decorating your house for that occasion where there would be guests coming over, how you fretted over tiniest things that would matter. Where should that plush looking carpet be placed? Where would that art piece look best? Thinking. Arranging. Re-arranging. After all, you would have guests at your place. They shall look around; they shall walk all over, look in the corners - the decorations, the colours, the patterns, the wall pieces, everything. And you want them to be perfect. May be if not perfect, atleast like you. The guests should remember whom they visited. If they go and talk about it to others, nothing like it. 

Well, didn’t you feel similar while you were decorating your blog? Didn’t you try many themes before finalizing the one? I have seen some beautiful wall hangings, colourful pictures, animations and even fish tanks on the blog. Extension of the bloggers themselves, I guess?

Whenever anything new happens in the house, be it an event - happy or sad, whether you’ve brought a new television or whether you’ve given up an old bad habit, the family and friends have to know about it. Isn’t that the case with our blogs too? They are the first ones to listen to our achievements, bear our rants and share our happiness. And then, the news spreads to family and friends – virtual but equally strong like the real ones. They would come and praise your achievement, they would come and share your sadness, they would congratulate you and they would advise you. Just like your real friends and family.  

We like to keep the most prized possessions, our winning trophies in the most visible place of the house for everybody to see and admire. And similarly, those lovely award badges, those contests winning badges, the badges showing where we’ve been published adorn our sidebars, visible for all.

Our houses get cluttered. And then, we start the cleanliness drives. Creating drawers for different things, putting things in their place, marking the lids of the jars so that they are easily available next time you need them. Haven’t you donw the same for the blog? Labeling the posts, adding proper tags, linking to the other similar posts and even creating pages for similar ones to be stacked together. Homes, Blogs.

And remember, when you have guests at your place? You clean the place well, you announce their arrival to other members of the family, introduce the guest to your family members. Isn’t that somewhat similar to what we do while having co-bloggers as guests on our blog? Similar. 

And then you might roam around, admire others’ places, may be want that wall hanging that is there in neighbour’s house on your wall too, but then, at the end of the day, your own little space is the best. The best. Howsoever, cluttered or empty it is. Your home does have your heart. So does your blog. Isn’t it?

This post is written as a part of April A to Z Challenge 2014 under Non-Themed category. I am doing two posts for this Challenge and Themed posts can be found here.