Tag Archives: letters

Of A Christmas Without Snow

(An old lady thinks about her husband as she writes this letter… To her husband, to the snow, to the winter that is slowly withering by)

I’m thinking about you as I write this.

 An entire year has gone by in a flash. The sun was out here. Autumn did cast its cloak. The winter has arrived, but there’s no snow.

 I’m sitting in this big white room. The chandelier stares down at me in an awkward stance. Everything around me is white-dull, dark white. The walls have queer shadows imprinted on them. They trap the melancholy of this place-the silent cries, the hundred thousand dreams that threaten to ooze out of this place. The white holds the silence.

 The mist has descended from the mountain. It presses against the window, whispering against the glass. It’s as if I’m viewing the world from behind a cloaked mirror. I’m trapped within the mirror. I’m looking at the universe, seeing them stare back at me without a trace of response. It’s as if I’m no longer there.

 Slightly hitching my gown up and tucking a strand of my white hair behind my ears, I stand up and walk to the windowpane. The fabric of my gown drags behind painfully. It warns me to not breathe the breeze that has started to waltz outside the windowpane. It whispers me not to get carried away by the memories. It spreads its invisible hands and tries to hold me back.

 With every stride, I feel the cold, white marble caresses my feet. The chill presses against the wrinkles and cracked skin. They make a shiver to trail upward, but, it never touches my spine. The fabric crawls along without a noise, its shade mingling with the white everywhere. Everything around me is as white as the Christmas snow. But, what I’m looking at, casts a gray glare.

 Everything outside the window is gray. Colorless. Lifeless. Devoid of any shades. The mist has tucked them under her blanket. She, probably, doesn’t want me to see the radiant shades. She doesn’t want me to call back the kisses under the colorful mistletoe. She doesn’t want the Snowman to lure me into building a cheerful one. She protects me, only by trapping me away from the world.

 As the white ceases away from my peripheral vision, I realize I’m near the window, staring right out at the world.

 Bringing my hands up, I touch the misted glass with the tips of my fingers. It blends with the chill. A vague scent of winter seems to have sneaked into the room. It teases my senses for a spell before being withdrawn by the void of the clean room.

 It reminds me of how much you enjoyed the winter. It reminds me of the time we first met-it had been a Christmas morning. You had held my hand and guided me down the aisle. Everything had been so red and green and gray. You had taken me to the fair and bought us cotton candies. I had had my teddy bear so near to me as I had gazed into your black eyes. I had struggled with the unknown emotions at the pit of my stomach. And you had held my hands when we had kissed under the snow.

 Leaning against the frosted glass, I press my face against it. I’m not looking for warmth; I’m looking for something that feels real against my skin. You.

 See, the snow is here! The silhouettes against the shades of gray are slowly starting to bathe themselves with the Christmas snow. The universe outside is suddenly as white as the room I’m in.

 A flicker of hope takes birth in my eyes. I look down from the window, anticipating your arrival. You had promised me that you’d return with the snow.

 My eyes are refusing to stay awake. Someone is calling for me. There are faint noises around me. Everyone is so excited to see you. Everyone is waiting to hear stories of the war. I’m so proud of you already. I wait, patiently.

 Christmas is here. But it doesn’t feel real. The winter is here. The snow is here. You aren’t…

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Of Dark, Darker and Darkest

There are days when nothing seems to be making sense. The world seems fifty shades darker. There is no one around. And even though the sun is shining bright, inside you, there’s a storm raging.

They are dark days. Grey days. When every defeat, everything that has ever hurt you, returns and bites you in the ass.

They are days when you can practically hear the drops of rain trickling down your misted window panes and settling in the pipes below your street. Your hands feel clammy and the cold makes you numb.

Those are days when you feel that your existence is worthless and that you must give up.

But, don’t.

The universe is funny. It preaches that only after the darkest hour, shall you see the light. It conspires a myriad things behind your back. Trust the universe. Comets return. Some place has two suns. Magic, happens, up there. All you need to do is live through your darkest days to see the brightest dawns.

Those are days when you must learn to pick yourself up and have courage. And if you do hold on to that withering thread of hope, the universe promises to let you see the glorious spectacle ahead.

For more inspiring stories, visit here.

Of Families That Make/Break Us

I have seen my parents obsessing a lot about their jobs. Generally they work till late and by the time they return home, they are exhausted and frustrated as well.
In a recent conversation with my Mom where she argued that job provides money and that her job is important, it led me to wonder if people these days are putting their work ahead of their family.

Our world has a very competitive setup. Each one of us is running some kind of race. The motive is yet unknown. It’s like we want to please just everyone around us, which is in fact, impossible. Somewhere, a clerk wants to impress his manager and a teacher wants to impress the principal. In bigger companies, the employees work hard day and night to reach a so-called “target”. And all this, at the cost of what?

I quote a few lines said by a famous poet, “What is this life if full of care, where nobody has time to stand and stare?”
Don’t we all agree with the fact that our world is becoming too busy? Forget the entire me-time, are we even finding enough time to spend with our families?

Teenagers are nose-deep in their social media profiles; children are busy with cartoons and action games; adults are busy with their jobs and so on. By the end of the day, we are all naturally exhausted and the dinner table is silent and stale. It lacks excitement. It lacks love. I’ve felt it.

I don’t see a clear solution to this, though. And I really don’t see a specific person or thing to blame. Should we blame these people who pay too much attention to their work or should we blame the companies who put so much pressure on their employees? Shouldn’t there be a little family-time and me-time? Because that is what we all need!

Our families give us motivation. Without them, where on earth would we be! Who would be share our conquests with? Who would we share our problems with? Who would pick us up when we fall? And in a race to impress others and earn money and be in someone’s good books and perhaps be in line for a promotion, should we forget about them?

Each time we spend a little extra time at our offices, we must remember to spend the same amount of time with our families as well. They deserve all the time in the world. For they make us.

Of Blurred Faces And Old Photographs

Do I ever cross your mind? Do you ever happen to think about that one random person you saw on the street today and imagine how their life is? Do you look at your old pictures and try to remember the blurred faces in the background?

I do that. A lot.

At times I happen to take out junior high photos and I happen to look at them for long. I see the camera focused on a few, leaving the rest of the people out of the view. But do they really go out of the picture? No, they don’t. They are the ones who make the picture truly beautiful. Even though you don’t remember them, they have graced a moment of your life. The people in the background or behind the stage aren’t necessarily people who like to remain there. They want to come out and shine, but they wait. They wait for their turn. So they become the “unnecessary” people in the background.

It makes me wonder about the many lives I’ve been a part of. Maybe I played a small role, but I was there.

I don’t even remember the people who had been around me when I was in “focus”. True, no one remembers the background people, unless they are in the same place.

Of Decisions And Desires

My mom worries a lot… about what others would think. Be it a job or a career choice or clothes, I think she puts others first, instead of herself.
But, it doesn’t always have to be about them, right?
Though we can say that we don’t care about what others think, there will always be a part of us that will have such questions like what will he or she think? Or what will the society think?
And, it’s okay to have them.
But, sometimes, it has to come down to us.
Our decisions must worry us. Each time we take a step, we must stop to think, ‘Does this make me happy?’
If it does, I bet the sun will shine a bit brighter that day!

Of Living Tomorrows Instead Of Todays

It surprises me of how people spend their entire lives saving grains for tomorrow; collecting pennies for tomorrow; planning for tomorrow; worrying for tomorrow. In fact, we do so many things for tomorrow, that it makes me wonder what we do for today?

That is probably the biggest problem. We always want to be a step ahead in everything. We are always… prepared. And this way, we leave no room for miracles and surprises.

We fail to realize that we can never stop what is about to happen. The future is always changing and life is uncertain, yet we want to be geared up for everything. It’s like wearing a harness for your entire life if someone has predicted you’d die of a great fall!

No one can predict the future fully. The future is dark and deep and scary. Nor can we be prepared to face future. It will always manage to shock us.

Of Finding The Best

When we are small, we have pre-defined notions in our mind – that, we will grow up to be the best, that we will look beautiful, that we will have the best of best friends and marry the best person in the world.

It’s not wrong to have such desires. It’s not wrong to have expectations. You know, where the real problem lies?

That each one of us wants the best for themselves.

I want someone, because I think he/she is the best for me. Then again, you may want somebody else because you feel he/she is the best for you. Perhaps that is why they call desires of the heart to be dangerous and that they wreck a person. Because, the best for us doesn’t consider us as the best for them.

Of Breaking Chains

All our lives we’ve been asked to be careful. Do this and that, but not that. Our wings have been cut off from a very early age, yet we are asked to find the first worm! We are asked to tread carefully on every path so that we never make mistakes.

But all this, is it worth?

I believe that we have to make mistakes. We can never learn from others’ mistakes; we have to make our own. Sometimes, we need to forget every warning signal that has been issued to us and take a leap. Into the unknown. Into the uncertainty. Because, there is a world out there. And it is different from our world.

Of Crying That Makes Us Strong

I have never seen a person cry. For most of my life, the people around me have always been happy. When the day of tears arrived, they left.

I know people cry when they are in pain. They cry when every breath is laboured and things do not seem to be making sense. People cry when they are weak. And some cry, even when they are strong. People like you.

Mom used to say that it is okay to cry. For one day, every tear will dry up and you can stand up again. She often used to joke around and say that crying helps clear the vision. She had a weird sense of humour, I agree. Though her words never made sense back then, I think they do, now.

Every time a person falls; every time a person is in pain; every time a person cries, it helps them get a newer perspective. For we take off our rose-tinted glasses and retrospect. And by the time we are done crying, we know already that we’ll never be crying again for the same reason.

In some wickedly strange way, crying makes us strong.

Before She Died

Before She Died is my newest story on Wattpad and it speaks from the POV of a girl who is lost and confused and sad.

Synopsis:

Every day, until two long months, she wrote letters to him and

hid them in his locker. Every day, she expected him to read those

letters and try to find out who wrote them. Yet, every day, he dismissed

them as some kind of joke.

 Then, one day, she left. Frustrated. Devastated. And heartbroken.

 And he was left with a bunch of letters to cry on.

 

An excerpt from the story:

#17

Hey You,

I loved your mini-speech today. The one you gave in the English class, remember? Oh, you certainly do! How can you possibly forget?

Indeed, I prefer oblivion to the truth. The truth is harsh and bitter and it blinds you with an actual glimpse of reality. We’ve never seen the entirety of truth.

Take my medicines, as an example. The doctor tells me each day that they are going to cure me; that I’m going to be able to drive; and that my fingers are going to stop shaking and I may be able to write a tad bit better. But she knows and I do too, that these drugs are slowly killing me from inside as well.

Though we may be gratified, at first, for having known the truth, deep down, it kills us as well. Because, they are meant to be bitter.

Oblivion is everybody’s last resort.

To read more, click here.