Occult

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Smruti- गीत

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You, a beautiful mess. You seemed perfectly hopelessly hopeful about love. I wonder what was between us? And then I brush it off. I don't want answers, I don't want reality. You were someone I put all my trust into. I wished I could wrap you around my arms and sing a lullaby to you or just do anything for you. I was disgustingly hateful towards myself for everything. For falling in love with you. For thinking I am worth being loved by you. I genuinely don't think otherwise even now. I thought about the time when I cried in front of you for hours. It's something I remember now. The way you called my name. Can anything be sweeter than that?

Sometimes we have nothing to live for but then we see a glimpse of hope and we follow it blindly. You were that for me. I wanted to be better for you which I couldn't do by resenting myself but silly me didn't know it.

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If every opportunity we have in life is just for short-lived happiness and fleeting people, what would we call that? It's not that being temporary is bad or a negative thing. But having it last a little longer might be nice, or even better, we could truly be happy. Like that one time when I was six, visiting my grandma's house for a ceremony and had to take a bath outside by the well. Father said all the bathrooms were occupied, so my sister and I had to bathe outside. Mother was not pleased. I wasn't thrilled either, but I realized I wouldn't get another silly chance like that. It was a night filled with street lights. There was one swinging yellow bulb over the well. I was shivering as Father kept drawing water and pouring it over my sister and me. Then, I ran into the warm embrace of my Mother, who had towels ready to dry us off. Just for that one moment. Temporary. The next day, Mother would push me into one of the bathrooms to bathe anyway. Maybe being temporary is good. It stays longer in our memories. We’ll cherish it for a longer time. As long as we can remember it. Or them.

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Lighting flashed, thunder thudded, the rain poured all night.
'I hate it', she muttered from behind.
He only smiled, sauntering on ahead
He took her hand, she followed.
Fidgeting at first,
Then broke into a ran, Toward where he stood,
In the middle of the road.
They danced while rain poured.
'I loved it', she exclaimed, swaying forward,
He smiled once more, drifting onward.

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No, I don't hate you,
but then I wrote in the notes app at 3 am,
'If there's a hell in this world,
let it be a room of mirrors
where you're exiled for eternity.
May your reflection haunt every facade you've ever worn,
may you become every person you have loved
and hurt at once, may all the pride on
your sleeve dissolve in
the nakedness of your truth,
and your face, your beautiful face,
reveals all the ugliness it beholds.
As you endure the torment of being yourself,
you'll beg for the mirrors to be shattered,
you'll plead for a blue sky,
but you'll die a million deaths
in the black of your eyes,
as you slowly come back to life,
again and again, you'll face
the cruelest irony- to love yourself,
as I once did.

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Poetry shall be when the Moon looks gently towards the earth
When the Sun pines for the darkness of the night
When the heart believes in love
When the heart breaks in love
Poetry shall pour
from the One who
knows not how to express ❤️

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The moon rose and the sun dove,
A dream bereft of cons and prose,

Amidst the droplets, the reflection broke,
Of travellers to come and already drove,

that smile still the one to behold,
Of the dance , when the rain poured,

Of the one, the wave by the shore,
Seemingly serine, bereft of adore,

A whisper of wind, a one forest road,
Still the one to behold,
Seemingly serine, bereft of adore

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The Smell of Rain on Her Pillow

That evening, the rain had arrived earlier than the forecast. It wasn't a drizzle—it was the kind that knows your wounds and washes them without permission. I sat by the window, not watching the downpour, but the spot where her head once rested on the pillow. It still bore the shape of her absence.

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Exclaimed one of the closest friends of Rhea. However, this was not rhetorical.

Rhea, a selfless little girl has had plenty of her feelings pent up due to her obnoxious past. It looked like she had seen a lot.
However, she was not feisty. But she wasn't soft either. Everything had been a lesson to her. And still, she had not seen a person with such a chutzpah as Sahil.

Yes, Sahil had ignited something inside Rhea ever since she got to know her from the last party. He looked carefree, didn't think much while speaking to others, and had tussles with anyone self righteous.

Rhea had inhibited some unprecedented hate for Sahil, she didn't know why! Even her friends saw the disrespect she started having for him. They felt scared for her as if she was going to push another person away from her without even knowing them.

Sahil had already felt her anguish when he was speaking carelessly to others which didn't go right with her. 'This had to stop', her friends thought.

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