#My old bed

My old bed, where I slept forever
Dozed off while studying , reading my favourite books
Cuddled and cozy in it's warm wrap
Homes my babies now.

My old bed, where I lay weak and recovering when sick
Where I lazed around on rainy afternoons
Have my babies doing the same

I played, painted, read ,studied,slept and did it all there
It has hosted me the longest something has...
It always welcomed me, with open arms and warm cuddles

I always crashed there after tiring myself
I see and smile now
Seeing my babies do the same

-

The old bedsheet spread on the bed
With small curry stains and tea spills
Washed many a times... fading the colour
Creased prints having been folded for long
Suddenly fished out from the treasure of the past, conserved for future
Displayed in the present
Like old photographs ...spread and displayed
To be looked together
On cozy winter afternoons
To sneak into the past...to reminisce about the bitter sweet memories!

-

You are facing the storm, dear, I understand.
You stand tall despite the odds, staying strong , fighting!!
Be proud, give yourself credit
But don't underestimate others' struggle
Don't undermine their efforts!!
If there is one thing the storm should teach other than courage
It's compassion 😀⭐

-

Longing to escape
Inner daemons
Made me vagabond

-

Longing whole life
The love
That wasn't mine

-

Repeating things from the past
With a flavour of novelty
A changed me, pursuaing the familiar
A different experience, a different version, a different reality!!!

-

From being a darling daughter to being a daughter-in-law treated no less than a daughter, to having a little girl of my own, certainly made me realise that it is indeed the biggest blessing!!
The last 2 months, being the mother of my precious daughter have been truly magical. Every one keeps saying that she is my photo copy, my reflection. But I believe that she is a better version of me and so much more.
She isn't my reflection, she is my ray of light
My Princess, My 'PRISHTI'

HAPPY DAUGHTERS DAY meri gudiya

बेटियां सबके मुकद्दर मैं कहां होती हैं....
घर "खुदा" को जो पसंद आये वहां होती हैं.

Can't agree with this more

-

But a girl is like moon
in all her forms
in all her glory and obscurity
in all her luminance and all the darkness
in all her beauty and glitter
and all her scars and wounds

She lights up the night sky.. yes
staying   optimistic in the darkest times
yes.. she is hopeful, yes she seems perfect...'A guiding light'
But she is also feeble, too fragile, anything but perfect
she is scared sometimes
what appears as shimmering cool blue light, is sometimes her shivering self.
she  too loses hopes
gets conscious of her scars, of her imperfections
she is not always bright and glittery
and when she does feel that... she needs you to be there for her
patiently wait... nurturing her with love.
She needs to feel  that warmth of your love...

Not many know this  side of her... for she doesn't reveal this to all... all that's for a select few.. 
her beauty, her brightness is for the world... but her imperfections... 
those are for those select few... 
those from where she derives her life from... her light from.
And if.. you are that someone for her... 
please...for her sake ..love her...embrace those imperfections, love them....
For not many know that's what makes her glow!!

-

   so what

so what if you lost touch with someone over the years
so what if a old good habit..took a back seat
so what if you lost that zest you once had or that spark that once glowed
so what if it all seems hazy right now
so what if the path isn't clear yet
it's ok... correcting it all is just a step away
a step towards betterment
a step towards self reclamation and self discovery
take that step... that leap of faith towards goodness
for, there is a way to be good again

-

As I travel.. I take a poetry along
Through the mountains and the valleys
Diping into waters
And swaying through winds
I take the poetry along
In the moments and in the stay
In the rainbows and in the clouds
In the dusk and in the dawn
I let them breathe as I do
Inhaling the place around
I let it live and grow
Nurtured yet projected
Open yet concealed
Flying yet grounded
I let the poem live me
The way I live it.
Line by line, prose by prose.

-