Sunset and Silhouette

Sunset and Silhouette

Sunset and Silhouette on Brainwork

 

Their legs hung down the cliff as they sat on its edge gazing at the marvelous never ending sky which was slowly pulling the orange blanket over its blue body. The mild breeze gushed through her hair strands making them dance on its rhythm and then rest on her shoulders. Like an ultra slow-motion movie the sun was descending down to take a dip in the ocean. The tangerine shade which spread across the vast ocean made her skin glow and her watery eyes twinkle.

They both sat there with only the whooshing wind to fill the silence engulfing them. His eyes constantly toyed between the nature’s beauty and a human one. They settled on hers as even the nature complimented it. She looked at him and playfully raised her eyebrows, a gesture to ask the reason for his stare. Words melted into silence and a smile. With a tinge of blush he looked down the cliff where the waves from ocean gently touched the beach and disappeared back. This was the most memorable and alluring sunset for both the hearts.

The temperature was cooling down and the sky was changing from tangerine to cinnabar as the sun approached its horizon. The never-ending evening would soon come to an end. It was a sudden impulse, of that magnificent view on the nature’s canvas, in which he curled up her hand into his and asked,

‘See that?’

‘What?’, she replied in a mild tone

The Sun was a few inches above the horizon when he pulled her close and whispered in her ear,

‘Look at the sun how it kisses the horizon, everyday, like they’re kissing for the first time and would keep doing it till eternity’

‘Its beautiful, isn’t it?’, she replied this time looking into his eyes.

Pulling himself close to her with a deep breath he whispered again,

‘You are my horizon and I wish to do the same till we are seventy’

She giggled, he smiled and the silhouettes of the couple over the huge orange ball put an end to the perfect evening.

#brainworkshorts
#hp

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A Hundred Deaths

hundred-deaths

A Hundred Deaths – Brainwork

I’ve been dying,
a hundred deaths.
Everyday,
in a hundred different ways.

There’s no savior,
for me to protect.
You were the one,
before you turned into a foe.

Now, with your every breath,
My Life drains away.
And until the last bit of it to drain,
I will stand firm,
And won’t refrain.

Life – a circle.
You – the starting point.
Ah! it began with you.
And, Oh! it ends with you.

It’s a vicious circle,
with memories in its pile.
And it’s now that I realized,
Memories are vile.

But it’s okay,
Don’t you regret
At least
I am dying a hundred deaths.
You haven’t even started living yet.

#100
#deaths
#hp

Grays and Blacks

Grays and Blacks

Grays and Blacks

It was a wonderful day with an occasional cool breeze bawling through the trees. I was wandering onto the yellow lawn inside the park looking for food. This is the best place where I could easily find food to eat. There are lots of crunchy things in yellow packets lying on the lawn, and sometimes yellow leaf stuffed under a soft brown thing wrapped with grey paper. People tend to throw away the leftover food after their tummy is full. Anyways, it was a happy day for me.

Just beneath a dark yellow bench I saw a grey thing with yellow leaf stuffed inside it, peeking through the wrapped paper. A salivating urge to eat it rushed through me. People throw the leftover with the expectation of someone else to pick it up and discard it in bin on their behalf. Unfortunately everyone thinks the same way and eventually I have to eat it. And I am happy for that. Because I was hungry and all I wanted was to eat that piece. I ran under the bench and scratched the grey paper to uncover the crumb and leaf. The leaves were juicy and tasted minty. I was lost in the paradise of taste and rest of the world blurred.

After a few moments a small screeching and indistinct cry brought me back to the real world from paradise. I looked up with magnified eyes to find out where the voice was coming from. A part of leaf was hanging out from my mouth as I stood there undistracted.

An old man was sitting under a big yellowish tree and the voice seemed to come from him. But before that let me tell you something strange about the big yellowish tree. It has a lot of leaves (which I can’t eat because I am too small) and the tree is full of grey balls which hide behind the leaves. People eat those grey things and I think they are tasty. I have never tasted them. Once, a lady threw the leftover ball on the lawn. That must be the happiest day in my life, I thought. But the leftover grey ball hardly had anything left on it.

This another time a young boy fooled me. He was sitting on one of the benches with a hard book lying on his lap. He held the book quite unusually, in a way that the lines in the book would stand vertical rather than horizontal. And only half of the book lied on his lap, the other half was open and the boy was continuously staring at it. There was also flashy light with people singing and dancing inside the book and that must be what the boy was staring at. I stood in front of the boy and I could see the book’s cover from this side. Suddenly, the same salivating urge rushed through my mouth as I saw it. On the cover of the book the same grey ball, like on the tree, laid – resting. And unlike the lady, who left nothing on the leftover, only one bite was missing from this ball. A bright white light reflected through the ball as if it was calling me. I hopped on my legs and jumped on the cover to grab the ball. Nothing! Although I was able to lick it only once yet it tasted nothing! Just nothing! Or maybe little like dust. The grey ball stood there sitting still on the cover not moving an inch. The boy ran, scared because I jumped on him. He left his grey hat on the bench.

I looked at the old man again. And I moved closer to him. I could hear his heavy breath which included lots of huffs and pauses. As I moved closer I saw his eyes were tightly shut like someone does so as to control some physical pain. I never did that. His old loose skin hung on his old bones forming series of uneven lines on his forehead and cheeks. The lines descended downwards like the liquid flowing down when put on a glass window. He wore a grey jacket and t-shirt and, between his fingers, he held a picture of a small girl. She was adorably cute with a grey bow on her head and a yellow sweater on her body. I wished to ask him what was wrong and why was he crying. But he sobbed and sobbed.

I rubbed my head on his arm and he gave me a saddened pat on my back with his trembling, old, worn out hands. Finally, after few minutes of patting, he muttered, gathering his breath,

“She was the reason I smiled and laughed. We played on this very bench.”

Tears again filled up his eyes and a few moments later he whispered,

“She turned six today..… would’ve”

He ruffled my hair and started leaving the park. He struggled to walk and used a stick for support. I could feel the pain behind his tears that had sucked all the liveliness out of his life. Without her this world was gray and black for him, just like me. I ran towards him with my tiny legs sinking in the grass. I started hopping and circling around him. Still he didn’t notice. Humans are stubborn, I thought. So am I.

I ran again and this time grabbed his trouser. He stopped and turned. His old eyes stared at me and he knelt so as to look into my eyes, closely. His breath had eased now and with a sigh he started speaking,

“Pal, you are a good doggie. I like you very much, just the way I liked my granddaughter. And that’s exactly the reason I won’t take you with me. I loved her till eternity”,  he paused to gather some breath and spoke again,

“Now that she’s gone, vanished into thin air, I feel the pain of being alone. If I keep you close you too will love me like I loved her, maybe even more. I am old now. Any day could be my last one” , ruffling my hair he added,

“I don’t want you to go through the pain that I am in now, pal. I am sorry.”

The old man stood up and left with his struggling walk and welling eyes. He didn’t want happiness in his life anymore.

As I stood there looking at his frame, disappearing with every step he took, suddenly, I felt a pair of soft hands on my belly. As my feet left the ground I realized that I was being lifted up. I couldn’t see who it was but the soft female voice assured me that it was a small girl. She held me close to her this time looking into my eyes. She was an adorable little girl. She had a grey bow on her head and a yellow sweater on her body. Kissing me, she screamed joyfully,

“Moommyy.…I wanna take him home.. I will name him braawniee..”

—————————–The End——————————-

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Roads

Roads

Roads

So?

How is it going, since we parted our ways (or at least I think we did).

Is it good out there or scary like a nightmare?

Hardly got any time for goodbye’s and we just shut up. I wander in the conundrum, in permutations and combinations of the things that might have gone wrong or just about our assumptions. Assumptions are like an invisible knife that slices the connecting thread smoothly.

But in the mist of finding that one reason I have lost in the labyrinth which I thought could fix up the broken parts.

It was like standing at the beginning of the road which split into two like a fork, each way leading to some unknown destination. And we just stood there, let silence speak for us, eyes decide the ways we will be headed, mind engulfed by the past and heart sitting back helplessly in the chest like a prisoner in a jail.

Did the words burn or were our eyes on fire?

Like a zombie, we didn’t even realize what were we doing and when did we start walking away. I took the left road and you took the right one. Now I think about what you might be thinking. Are you thinking like me? Or the zombie inside you hasn’t woken up yet?

I think, after walking so long, should I head back to where we started, where I might find you waiting for me (or maybe not). Or should I keep walking forward in the hope that my left road will eventually meet your right one?

Shouting and calling for you won’t help either. For my voice is turned to ashes with the words that burnt away.

I assumed that you were awake. I assumed that you would stop and pull me back. Assumptions are like an invisible knife that slices the connecting thread smoothly.

Satisfaction is lost somewhere between confusion and regrets.
Love is lost somewhere between ego and decisions.
We have lost each other somewhere between the right road and the left one.

#roads
#destinyanddestinations

The youngest smile

Look into her eyes,
What do you see?
A mischievous little child,
Or the eyes full with dreary?

She’s crazy young girl,
Hopping from sofa to bed.
One with a bubbly smile,
Unaware, what might lie ahead.

She’s hesitantly candid,
And a secretive cotton ball.
When she misses her loved ones,
She cries and muffles behind the wall.

In her world of fantasies,
She giggles and she whoops.
Though there are no fairies,
Yet she fulfills the loop.

Her eyes were wet,
And her voice was sore.
She sat in a corner,
Cards lay desperately beside her.

Neither did I ask anything,
Nor did I say.
I patiently sat by her side,
And waited, until,
She asked me to play.

Then she picked up the deck,
And brushed back her hair.
Silence filled the room,
As she wiped her tears.

After a game or two,
Which, of course, she won.
She smiled and bellowed,
And the silence was gone.

When her eyes were clear,
And her nose seemed dry.
I held her in my arms,
And asked why did she cry.

Hearing her reply,
Bewilderment grasped me.
Innocence in those words,
Shun like the stars when she said,

“It’s been four days
The sky has,too, turned brown.
No chocolate no pastries,
Mama’s out of town“​

#brainwork

One lucky book

girl and book

Gleaming mysterious eyes

So close to the eyes,
like a reflection in the mirror.
Pounding on the heart,
like constant beating with a hammer.

A course of nature,
probably went so bad.
Holding hands are,
now standing up to wave goodbye.

Like the drops of rain,
So intact while in the air.
We too shatter like them,
The moment they hit the ground.

Flashes of memories,
appearing and disappearing
Like a lighting,
That follows the thunderstorm.

Standing before the mirror,
staring at the reflection,
Where am I lost?
All I see,
Are the colors.
Blurred and fussy,
It feels like
the mind is dipped-
in a deep thick fog.

All the senses lost.
I can hear,
can’t listen.
I can look,
can’t see.
I can sense,
can’t feel.
Just staring in the mirror,
Not sure whose reflection
am I staring at(?)

And then an image appears
A photograph.
A face.
Half-hidden
behind a book.
Held by those
soft and fair hands.
Gleaming eyes peeking
behind the book.
A mischievous look in them.

A nose,
those tender lips,
and chubby cheeks,
pressed against the pages.
I can imagine it all,
can’t feel.
A photograph of her,
hiding behind the colored pages.
I captured it
in black and white.

And I murmured softly,
‘Oh dear how I envy you,
For you’re a
One lucky book.’

#brainworkoriginals

Echoes and Memories

pencil broken

Shattered words

Take a deep breath,
It’s just a Storm.
Keep moving ahead,
It will pass along.

Not sure how,
The storm will pass.
Will it take you too?
Or will you stay strong?

Close your eyes and think of us,
It will help you survive.
Whenever the storm hurts,
That’s what I do to stay alive.

The storm gets stronger,
As we are becoming strangers.
Maybe just talking will
keep it away,
It may even make it disappear.

The days are just fine,
I survive somehow.
It’s the silent night that kills,
With your echoes and memories.

#sincerethoughts

The Green Dot

love on the internet

The Green Dot

We shared our thoughts,
But never saw each other’s expressions.
We laughed a lot,
But never heard each other’s voice.

We fought a little,
But still, didn’t witness it in the eyes.
We asked questions,
But never heard any answers.

We whispered a lot,
But never in each others’ ears.
We waited a lot,
But never ended the wait face to face.

We saw each other, a lot,
But never in person.
All we were, active always,
With a Green Dot beside our names.

All we saw, on the keyboard,
Our fingers typing.
All we waited to hear,
Was that notification bing.

#bw

What if…

what images

What if image

What if I was a flower,
And you, a bee.
For you to have some sweet,
I would have got stung rather happily.

What if I was a pen,
And you, the ink flowing through me.
My tip, as it stroke on the paper,
would have mirrored your beauty,
like no one, ever, could be.

What if I were you,
And, perhaps, you were me.
Would you have been heartless?
Or, perhaps, would I have been?

One Dominating Emotion

happy and sad faces

One Dominant Emotion

The most annoying and never ending problem for every writer is thinking about what to write next. There are lots of feelings, lots of emotions, lots of things going on inside the mind yet there is no center point around which every word will be revolving. And the idea of what to say or what I want to put in words becomes just difficult to explain.

Feelings and emotions. The most complex forms that webs us, the human beings, sometimes like a tangled rope, sometimes like an untangled one. A subtle mixture of every emotion is a recipe for a perfectly happy life or, we can say, for a perfectly balanced life. But, who’s life is perfect? No ones. Every day is a different one; every hour brings a new mystery with it. We don’t even know what has the next minute brought for us on its plate. Time is a mystery.

How we react, how we behave, what we feel depends on how we are being treated. There maybe lots of quotes on the internet, in the novels, inside your mind too, about how the only thing that should matter to you is your happiness. Doesn’t matter how people treat you or if they value your presence in their lives, you should do what you like and keep yourselves happy. But think realistically. Is this what actually happens? Even if you try to? No. Truth is miles away from those quotes. No matter how much you try to mask your feelings that hurt, no matter how much you try to convert the truth into a mystery, for everyone but you, by putting a smile on that face, inside you there’s a silence, not because you don’t feel like talking but because the actions or words of others have left you blank.

This is the truth. It may hurt or it may sound weird. But this is THE truth. Like the time, people, too, are a mystery. Each person with a different story, with a different background, with a silence inside them, too, which was because of someone else. Like a writers’ thoughts which are spread like thousand marbles on a floor and to which he can’t put into words yet somehow he finds a connection. The people you are surrounded by are the same. Everyone is different yet there is something that makes them same as you. At some point or other in their life, too, they were hurt and probably that is the reason why they have changed or treat you the way that hurts you. It’s like they have created an imaginary shell that covers their life and anyone who they think is on the verge to enter the shell they push them back, so hard that no one will give it a second chance to try again.

Despite being kicked numerous times there exist some people who just keep trying to convince the other person that they along with their partner will take care of that shell. These people are like an ant that struggles to climb a wall but falls down every time. Still it doesn’t give up until it has reached it’s destined place. Getting hurt has become the part of their life. It is the single most dominant emotion ruling their life every day. Each day is a mystery. One happy, other sad, next disappointing. Yet they fight, against their emotions. They struggle to convert that sad emotion into a happy one. They constantly try to unravel the mystery of why they are being treated the way they don’t deserve. They try, tenderly, to unmask the fake smile and know the tearful mystery behind it. They try, desperately, to love the other person on the cost of losing their selves. Still, they try, unlike the other ones who push.

These people, maybe they are like those marbles spread on the floor, the center point that connects us to them are the emotions that burst inside us after their silence creates its twin inside us. The only thing you can do is love them like the sky loves clouds, like the birds love songs, love them until they love you back.

#Brainwork@Facebook