Flickering Lanterns

Let's 'live' and not 'survive'.

Good girls..

– Good girls, hopeful they'll be and long they will wait. //Taylor Swift // Sad Beautiful Tragic //

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Red Hoodie.

red hoodie.jpg

The air was cold as she stuffed her hands in the pockets of her red hoodie. She loved the airport of her city, so huge and mesmerizing, she loved being there and exploring the entire area. Looking out from a balcony, she heard her mother calling her name. She inhaled the last bit of her city’s air, sighed a long sigh and hurried her way back. There were lots of people who had come to say goodbye. She could feel a shield forming on her being, separating her from her surroundings. People were moving, chattering and crying, but she couldn’t hear or feel anything. She was going to miss her city, she was going to miss her friends, friends that she hadn’t informed yet. There was a jumble of thoughts making her mind numb. She didn’t know what the future beheld. A relative came out of nowhere and hugged her tight. The abruptness of the action broke the chain of thoughts that her mind had created. She asked her aunt to remember all of them in her prayers, for she was pretty afraid. The relative went back to the crowd. She grabbed the handle of her wheeled bag and turned to follow the rest of her family. Something caught her arm and jerked her back. She was terrified to find him there. She hadn’t imagined him to arrive or bid farewell even in her wildest dreams. She broke the grip loose and stepped back.

“Why are you here?”, she wanted to swear but held her rude side back.

“To see you. Why are you going?”, he asked as if he had come on a short notice.

“Don’t you know? Anyway. I need to go. I might miss the flight because of your unwanted presence.”, she replied.

“You’ll come back soon, right? I need to tell you something. It’s important to me. I might just utter it right now but you’re going to make a scene out of it so I probably shouldn’t.”, he gasped because of all the running.

“And you though it better to say this stuff right before I’m leaving? You’re a coward. Go away.”, she got irritated and stalked off.

“How do I tell her that I don’t just like her. I’m a coward. She’s gone.”, he murmured under his breath.

It had been an hour since the plane took off. She could see the blue waters of Indian Ocean from her window seat. All of a sudden something burst and she could see nothing but flames. In the last moments before she lost her consciousness, she could feel the pressure of air and the burden on her heart. Death awaited her, but not just death awaited her. Her love did too, whom she had left at the airport. “You’ll come back soon, right?”, kept ringing in her head. “I will. I will, someday. I will, in a shroud.”, she murmured, half conscious. The blue ocean waters devoured her, and after a long time, she felt as if she belonged somewhere – and gave in to the eternal escape.

black hoodie.jpg

– Mahaah.

Dreams or Visions?


She looked at blur people with her half opened eyes. She tried to recognize her surroundings. It was her own room, it occurred to her in a few moments. Lying down like that pained her, still she turned her head to her right shoulder and saw her brown silky hair spread on her pillow, that fell on to her blue bed sheet.
A smile ran on her lips, and looking out at the wide wall-like glass window, she murmured, “He’s coming. He’ll see my hair, he’ll recognize me and then everything will be as it should be.”
“Who’s coming, ma’m? We don’t see anyone.”, said the girl who was sitting at her feet on the corner of the bed.
“He’s coming. Oh, the day has arrived.”, she whispered in her low breath again.
“Who he? The only man I can see standing there is a man on the other side of the cliff. There’s a whole fraction of sea in between.”, said the nurse again.
“But I can see him coming. What is it, a vision? Then wake me up. Its better to not stay in a fantasia.”, she said, in subtle anger. “What sound was that? Oh, why is everything so blue. Where did he go?”, she asked several questions but there was no answer.

She looks at the place. She looks at the bricked floor. She looks at the nicely parked cars. She looks at her daughter. “Oh my child!”, she exclaims and runs towards her. She sets her daughter’s black floral frock in order and touches her fringe delicately. “What are you doing here, pet?”, she gently asks her daughter. Her daughter shrugs and moves a few steps ahead. “Oh, where are you going, sweetheart?”, she follows her daughter and realizes that she’s dressed in black too. She notices her elegant dress and feels her intricate necklace. She can not recollect what she is dressed for. In one of these moments, her husband comes from behind, picks her up and caresses her cheek. She feels lighter. He lets her stand on her feet again. She calls out to her daughter, “Daddy’s here!”, but she doesn’t listen. She looks at her husband with gleaming happy eyes and says, “What’s gotten into her? She’s really hopping and trotting here and there like a rabbit.” Her husband smiles but doesn’t reply.

She has heard that sound again. She tries to open her eyes painstakingly. She finds everything blue. Her eyes wander for a search for her husband and her daughter. Clouds gather outside of the glass window as if it is about to rain.
The nurse comes back again and asks, “You’re awake, ma’m. Would you like soup or a glass of water or something?”
She looks at her in an astonished way. “Where is he? Where is my daughter?”, she asks the nurse in slight hysteria.
“Ma’m you don’t have children. And obviously neither a husband.”, the nurse answered.
“But I just saw them. I saw them with me. Oh it was such a happy vision.”, she murmured in her low breath.
“That is why we created it for you.”, the nurse replied in cold robotic voice and left.

“It is working just fine.”, the senior doctor said.
“But it is painful for them when they come back to reality.”, one of the researchers commented.
“We’ve got to make them survive their remaining life somehow, so why not?”, the senior doctor replied.
“I should not have given you this idea in the first place.”, the animation maker finally admitted.
“Don’t you see how far has technology come? Isn’t it amazing to make films and animations of their favorite memories or memories that they wanted to have but never had? Isn’t it great that all it takes is some creative people and some scientists to combine them in a chip? Isn’t it startling to you? How a chip works and takes them to a world that they always wanted to live in?”, the senior doctor had already started to feel annoyed.
“But you pull them back to reality! Reality is way too harsh and unbearable for them! You are a doctor, where has your humanity gone?”, another researcher couldn’t resist.
“This is my project. And I am not allowing any of you to stop me from doing what I’m really succeeding in”, the senior doctor said authoritatively. “As far as my humanity is concerned, everyone involved in this project has trampled their humanity to get where they are, so maybe it is me who’s supposed to question your humanity.” He put an end to that debate.

Meanwhile in the hospital corridor, cries from mentally challenged and Alzheimer stricken patients were heard – but there was no answer.


– Mahaah.

(Based on a dream. 30.11.16)

See the Sea.



Note to Her.

– Someday, when my giant ego and your not-now-s would subside, I'd pick you up and drive you here, at this very point. It would be a long drive, and my legs might hurt with all the effort, but I know that with you, pain won't matter. Your philosophical stuff would distract me from things that I overthink and ruin moments that are worth living. With you it would be different, I know it. And you see those rocks? I promise I'd sit there without resistance while negating my neat-freak self. That day, we'd probably be functioning adults but trust me, we'd laugh our way out of those miseries. That day would be good. That day will come. That day would be a someday. And I'm afraid that, 'somedays' don't exist. #RantsAndRamblings

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Numbers that Matter.

3.8 GPA, 15K Instagram followers, 75 featured photos, 2 published books and a sold out art exhibition –

Yet she was rejected.  

Since the only numbers that mattered were those that showed on the weight scale.

I haven’t been writing and I normally don’t write stuff like this but this needed to be written. Its about a social norm that we witness everyday. I don’t think that there’s any explanation required. We are all mature enough to know that. These three sentences were originally intended for a submission for Terribly Tiny Tales but it can’t happen at the moment (don’t ask me why) so here you go.
Beautiful people come in all shapes and sizes. Yo.
– Mahaah.

About Infinities.

I used to tell myself constantly that brushes aren’t my thing and I like leads and nibs more because I can actually assert my control on them and they’d work accordingly, but recently Moe pushed me towards trying painting out and I just went to an amazing art store and bought a bunch of new stuff (when I knew nothing except the names of nice brands). Which also included a basic palette of Winsor and Newton water-colors. I recently tried my hand on them and..
This was the result. Here I present to you my first water-color painting. Tadaaa!

About Standing Out.

– I'm lost trying to get found in an ocean of people. //Grace Vanderwaal // I Don't Know My Name //

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Frictional Ignition – A Rant.

art block 1.jpg

Baba closed his diary and asked me, “Have you stopped writing? Like, don’t you update your blog anymore?”. The question was quite a surprise for me, as he never really reads what I write. “Why? and how do YOU know?”, I replied with a question. He shrugged his shoulders in a bruh-I’ve-got-some-experience way. “No, you just don’t speak that much now, like the way you used to. I haven’t seen you typing for long hours in a long while as well.”, was his answer.
24 hours passed by.
Bhai came home and I immediately gave him a glass full of water. A conversation began. After a while he put his glass back on a nearby table and asked me a similar question, “Have you stopped writing blogs?”. I wasn’t surprised, for I knew that he had been reading my stuff for quite some time. “Yes.”, I didn’t bother to give him an explanation at first. “Why?”, he was still curious. “Time constraints, I suppose.”, I tried to get rid of the topic. “Well, no, that’s not the matter. You have time for Instagram and not for WordPress? How is that possible?”, he initiated a discussion-like-debate. I thought for a moment and said, “Probably? I think I lost all of my inspiration to write. There are loads of ideas, but words just don’t come together. So yeah.” Noticing the seriousness in my voice, he sarcastically replied, “Or maybe you’re done erupting all your poison into your writings.” and laughed the topic away.

But I am still thinking about the same thing. And I feel extremely sorry for Coleridge. For those of you who don’t know the reference, google him maybe?

Good idea

Its not that I have actually lost all inspiration, its just the lack of binding words. I don’t think that I can convey my ideas the way I used to. I used to express things nicely, (Look at the word “things”. Sigh.) but I can’t do that stuff again (read at the moment). The lack of ideas isn’t there, neither is the lack of motivation; its the lack of medium and words. Its like, you are thinking, but the procedure stays incomplete because the stuff that you are thinking stays in your mind and can not come out in the form of words. Its like a blank bubble of thought. I don’t even know how to explain what I am trying to say, this photo might help.


Or maybe its just the mere shift of focus. I have been focusing more on my art skills and photography lately. They are working as amazing mediums of expression, and sometimes I write long captions too so that this writing thing doesn’t fade away. But the question remains – how long will it take to come back to me? The spark that always pushed me to write? The eruption through layers of repression – when will it take place? Maybe the only way out is to wait (and to read). I just miss that frictional ignition. That combustion. That diffusion of emotion into words. I hope that I get it back soon.


Till then, enjoy my photography and artworks. Also, stay tuned all you new followers. I am not always like this. And thank you for the follow(s), means a lot.

– Mahaah.

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