Anaahat

Thank You It is an overwhelming feeling. To be able to see my writing in these pages here. To experience that others read and find something that touches their lives. And so I want to express my gratitude. With thanksgiving around the corner, it is an apt time to thank. I thank the universe for continually inspiring me. For throwing me in situations that make me think. For all the soul-churning experiences that have made me, me. That make me want to write. To explore my limits through these limitless possibilities of words and punctuation. I thank you, dear reader. For the occasions that you land on this page. With all the sadness these writings hold, you sometimes read, you sometimes comment. And leave me encouraging words. I thank all people in my life that make me experience life as I do. Writing is a solitary activity. What I write comes just from within. After days of churning my insides with the thoughts and ideas. There are days when I do not want to speak at all. The ...

There have been days, moments spent in anticipation to know this feeling of seeing you see me of a growing sense of self conjuring up as you look at me. And now that i have you. at an arm's distance, with wondrous eyes searching mine i do not know what to do. There are days, moments spent in abandon, when romance is just being with you, knowing you are present, when in spite of myself, and my idea of my feminine freedom, i feel i belong here, with you, to you. Then there are days, when you still look at me, with those searching, probing eyes, and when you see me more than i ever thought myself to be, when you take my hand, willing time to slow down, when you fill my spaces when there was no yesterday, no tomorrow, and the spiritual space of now, exists right now only with you. There are still other times when i doubt you exist, when i think that the fairy tales and folk t...

There is a buzz of the vehicles There is a buzz of televissions some barks some loud voices some alarm clocks, a little rain falling on the trees, swoosh of the tyres

The voice that soothes. Melodious without any melody. with sadness, depth, the silent restraint it holds, taints a curious shade to the evening. Gulzar is crooning on the CD. His voice, a deep melody, reading Ghalib's letters. While Jagjit Singh sings. My most admired artists romancing the words by Mirza Ghalib. As I listen, give in, a melancholy sadness settles as the evening progresses into the night. Oblivious to the everyday sounds drifting into the room. To the cell phone that beeps in apparent emergency. To the life eating away at my cells. I am only of these voices being carried away, with a wanton abandon as the soft light floods my room, the cold tiles under my feet, the warm food tucked away. into a world of stories. where it promises to take me. Then a sadness settles over me. As dust settles on an object after a year of being untouched.