What's that pain in the heart called?

Ever felt like that?

That numbing..heart-wrenching feeling in the middle of your chest that sort of kills you with each breath you take?

Its cold. Its deathly. But its there. Inside of you. Calling out to you. Begging you to fix it. To do something to stop the pain. While you are too absorbed in the misery of living, drowned in tears oblivious to these calls from within.

Thats what it is. Thats exactly heartbreak. Heartache. Whatever you want to call it. Thats what it is.

It happens you know. In most cases, when you love someone way more than you love yourself. There goes that feeling of doing something for yourself because in true Bryan Adams style everything you do, you do it for him!

And yet, at times whatever you do, is not sufficient. It falls short. Your love falls that tad short of his expected standards from his prior experience(which you now wish you could wipe off the face of this earth with utmost brutality). And when you do feel ineligible to be loved back in return like you expect to, you squirm back into the realms of your self and let your feelings be thrown away like grains of sand as each wave of criticism wipes out their existence.

And then again, when that pain spurts off a new kind of feeling, of insecurity, of despair, of helplessness and you cringe and scream and retort with aggression, you turn out to be the bad one. He wouldn't ever understand that you can't suddenly forget the past and when it hits you right between the eyes, its bound to hurt. Forget him. For a fact, not a soul in this world can experience the helplessness and the anger all the same time that that foolish heart of yours feels.

Its a pity. Its a grave pity that the heart that wants to love is told to not to love. A heart that wants to give is accused of accusing. A heart that wants a future is told to get over the past, when the past is dictating our present.

The future can never be bright for two people who choose to delve in the past. Who choose to bring back bad memories of may I add bad people and jeaopardise the present. How can these people even make the mistake of dreaming of a future together when they can't get past their simple flaws? How does that work? It doesn't and never will.

Time lost is lost forever and doesn't return ever. Bad memories are Bad news for the present and great news for a relationship-epitaph if thats what two people want out of a battle of who did what and who has wronged who more.

But in the middle of all this, the heart of this dreamer has cried out loud. Because it is broken into as many countless parts as it cant imagine itself. This is an ode. An ode to a lover, a dreamer, thrown in the sea of reality who stopped dreaming..Just because it hurts too much to dream. Because some dreams are never meant to come true! They just die their own silent deaths with each tick on the clock. And life surprisingly, still goes on.

Is it criminal to change?

How many times have you had a fight with your best friend or someone extremely close to your heart and ended it saying-“You don’t need to change for me.” Lets get down to dirty reality, did you really mean it? Personally, everytime Ive said this line, I’ve let a silent sigh in my heart hoping that the other person would understand me! Its martyrdom to accept differences, suicidal to change, but there comes a time when it works more as an elixir than as a stab of poison.

A relationship grows stronger with an acceptance of different temperaments, ideologies and emotions. Often one person ends up moulding themselves too much and stifling the real person within their heart. This soft silent death of reality in a quest to keep alive a relatuionship is trulyt he defeat of the love they profess for each other. Now tell me is it better to change or to kill your true self?

Now changing doesn’t seem too bad does it?If it still does, try to look at it this way. Its growth. Remember the cycle of life,Birth,growth,death. To grow is to explore. If you never grew up, you’d srill be living in a crib, acting cranky and would die an infant death. Try looking at a plant. As it grows nurtured with care, it sheds its old leaves and undergoes a process of youthful regeneration. It changes too, but only for the better.

It is indeed inevitable to change,then why attemot to stop it? Why wallow in the depths of misery questioning it? The truth is, everytime you tell a person not to change, you yourself bend a little and make a small promise to yourself not to ever let this bother you again. Each such promise is a milestone in your journey and before you know it, you’ll reach the end turning out to be a vividly different person than the one you started out to be.

THE BROKEN SPELL

Broken and crushed I lie here in wait,

I'm tired of this suffering, the pain and sweat.

Roses aren't for me, I can picture a wreath,

I'm stifled now, its getting hard to breathe.

I'm tired of being this way, I cant even cry,

My screams are drowned, my tears are now dry.

I'm tired of their whines, their endless grudges,

I'll live my way, not on borrowed crutches.

I'm not a toy, or a blob of clay,

Then why should I bend their way?

They say I do not feel, they fail to see me bleed,

Trying to turn me into one of them, its just their greed.

I want to walk my way, find my own religion,

If I fall and fail, it'll be my own decision.

Let me walk to my grave, don't carry me there,

I want to kiss my death, not die in despair.

I have a million options, let me be the one to choose,

I'm not their hell hole, their object of abuse.

I see a distant light, the door is open,

I will be myself, the spell is now broken!

My First Love

Some love stories start with the rain bringing two lovers together throught the forces of nature locking them together in the warmth of a rain-soaked embrace, while some end in the rain with two lovers walking away, drenched in nature's fury. My love story however strange it may seem, IS the rain. Yes, I am in love with the rain and will make no two bones to admit that it is indeed my first love and will probably be that eternal love.

As a child, I often marvelled at the unbound bounty of the clouds and how they managed to soak the earth. I have memories of tricking my mom into believing that I'm only watching the rain while I would actually plot and plan to stealthily slip out into the backyard and stare at the sky till the raindrops hurt my eyes, hard enough to make me give up. Looking for icicles, putting them in my mouth and squirming my eyes with the freeze. Running helter-skelter in the rain to find shelter when I was out playing just a little too far from home. These are the small pleasures of my childhood, obviously bound and enveloped by the one thing that refused to change and grow up, The RAIN!

Today, the rain doesn't bring and wondrous amazement to my eyes as it did back then. Instead, it brings a twinkle to my eyes, a sparkle no other season could. Off-late I've also realised that the rain makes me think of love more than any other time. It is this downpour that makes my mind rewind to the dreams of a perfect love in my growing-up years.

Silly to some people maybe, but it still makes me wonder how insanely romantic it would be to take a walk through a garden holding hands, fighting the rain. Or even how great it must feel to just sit with someone I love out in the patio, sipping a cup of hot coffee tinged with the flavour of the rain. Or how perfect would it be to sit in a car with the top up at the edge of a cliff and feel like you were floating on the dark dense clouds.

Also, I feel that there's no fragrance ever made that could come even close to the scent of the first fresh raindrops on a lonesome, emaciated, blistering piece of earth. Arden and Estee could turn their researching centres upside down but no fragrance can ever appeal as much as the priceless yet invaluable scent of the first rain.

I see people shiver and run for cover when it rains. I still cannot fathom why! Perhaps, its just me to whom the cold rain manages to bring a warmth in each raindrop. Warmth of perhaps a love, from an unknown land. Or maybe from the skies above, from those who left me lookin up at the clouds for them.

Charlie Chaplin once said that he loved walking in the rain because then noone would see him cry. I personally haven't felt anything close to that and I don't think I ever can because it has been the rain that has given me enough reason to stop crying and smile to myself when life has been at its ebb.

That's the kind of love-story I have with the rain and that's why I call it my first love. A force that magically wraps itself around me when I want to cry. Someone who's voice is music to my ears and who's scent drives my senses wild. My childhood sweetheart, a warm flame on a cold night. Someone who's intricately bound in both my dreams and my memories. That is the kind of stuff true love is made of. I'm just glad to be a part of it, to be insanely in love with the one thing I know that neither time, nor death, nor the past, nor any other force can conquer, the love of my life, The RAIN.

Some love stories start with the rain bringing two lovers together throught the forces of nature locking them together in the warmth of a rain-soaked embrace, while some end in the rain with two lovers walking away, drenched in nature's fury. My love story however strange it may seem, IS the rain. Yes, I am in love with the rain and will make no two bones to admit that it is indeed my first love and will probably be that eternal love.

As a child, I often marvelled at the unbound bounty of the clouds and how they managed to soak the earth. I have memories of tricking my mom into believing that I'm only watching the rain while I would actually plot and plan to stealthily slip out into the backyard and stare at the sky till the raindrops hurt my eyes, hard enough to make me give up. Looking for icicles, putting them in my mouth and squirming my eyes with the freeze. Running helter-skelter in the rain to find shelter when I was out playing just a little too far from home. These are the small pleasures of my childhood, obviously bound and enveloped by the one thing that refused to change and grow up, The RAIN!

Today, the rain doesn't bring and wondrous amazement to my eyes as it did back then. Instead, it brings a twinkle to my eyes, a sparkle no other season could. Off-late I've also realised that the rain makes me think of love more than any other time. It is this downpour that makes my mind rewind to the dreams of a perfect love in my growing-up years.

Silly to some people maybe, but it still makes me wonder how insanely romantic it would be to take a walk through a garden holding hands, fighting the rain. Or even how great it must feel to just sit with someone I love out in the patio, sipping a cup of hot coffee tinged with the flavour of the rain. Or how perfect would it be to sit in a car with the top up at the edge of a cliff and feel like you were floating on the dark dense clouds.

Also, I feel that there's no fragrance ever made that could come even close to the scent of the first fresh raindrops on a lonesome, emaciated, blistering piece of earth. Arden and Estee could turn their researching centres upside down but no fragrance can ever appeal as much as the priceless yet invaluable scent of the first rain.

I see people shiver and run for cover when it rains. I still cannot fathom why! Perhaps, its just me to whom the cold rain manages to bring a warmth in each raindrop. Warmth of perhaps a love, from an unknown land. Or maybe from the skies above, from those who left me lookin up at the clouds for them.

Charlie Chaplin once said that he loved walking in the rain because then noone would see him cry. I personally haven't felt anything close to that and I don't think I ever can because it has been the rain that has given me enough reason to stop crying and smile to myself when life has been at its ebb.

That's the kind of love-story I have with the rain and that's why I call it my first love. A force that magically wraps itself around me when I want to cry. Someone who's voice is music to my ears and who's scent drives my senses wild. My childhood sweetheart, a warm flame on a cold night. Someone who's intricately bound in both my dreams and my memories. That is the kind of stuff true love is made of. I'm just glad to be a part of it, to be insanely in love with the one thing I know that neither time, nor death, nor the past, nor any other force can conquer, the love of my life, The RAIN.

Is it hope or the most unrealistic illusion?

Is there anything called the Perfect Ideal Man? And is every woman’s expectation of accidentally yet pleasantly bumping into this Perfection justified? If you tell me you haven’t given this thought, you’re definitely lying. Every person likes their bed made in a certain way, their coffee just that perfect flavor and tinge. And their man, with all the finishings of the picture in their head.

Well, unfortunately most often and almost always, this picture remains in the head. It never translates into reality unless you’ve prayed really hard or you just got plain lucky in which case you become the victim of less fortunate fellow-love travelers. Most often when you go looking for trouble, you’ll end up finding it. Ever wondered why such un-fortunate luck doesn’t work in the case of a partner? The few twisted injustices of life.

Women live in an illusion. In a utopia where everything’s just perfect and sun-kissed, their man is baked to perfection with the right look, talk, walk and touch. They escape into this little world of theirs when the cruel real world becomes too harsh for their tastes. They hope and hope against hope that this halcyon they have created in their mind remains uncrushed, untouched by the blows of truth.

It’s safer to realize the boundaries of this strange little world than to be stuck in it and refuse to realize the potent dangers of becoming a recluse. It’s alright to escape into it once in awhile, I mean who doesn’t dream? But it’s just for your good you realize that you weren’t created to live in that perfect world of your concocted tastes.

Perhaps God created the world so imperfect so that we realize the value of something good when it meets the eye. How would you feel if you found a diamond in a heap of rubble? So stop looking for perfection in this cynical world. If you’re lucky, it’ll walk its way into your life and set right everything that’s crooked in your life. If it doesn’t walk into your life what can I say? Perhaps, your vision of perfection out beat God’ best effort. So dream of the stars but learn to settle for the moon. It’s definitely better than some of the earthly creatures.

Can a man change a friendship?

It’s true that when two women discuss their lives and complain about the sorrows of singleness, they look for emotional comfort in each other. They expect each other to be there every time some strange incident reminds them of the perceived unfortunate single state they are in. These women look for their men in the world and sympathy in each other. But what happens when they find that Mr. Perfect?

This is when they drift apart from everything and everyone that reminds them of their historical misery. The friend they looked to for comfort becomes an outlet for their unbound joy their love brought into their life. They wouldn’t care if that girl-friend were single, pathetic or lonely. This is truly the defeat of a friendship. A friendship that is built on trust, faith, pacification and companionship.

Sometimes, people forget that though they are in love, the rest of the world isn’t. Their friends and the people in their life are genuinely happy for their treasure but they do resent the fact that they’ve lost the person they became friends with. In love people do generally invest most of their valuable time cementing their relationship by modifying their tastes to suit each other. They forget however, that they end up in a character metamorphosis at times and the people who once cared might not ‘love’ this.

The friend with whom you shared the smallest of details of your regular mundane life in addition to anything that brought a spark to your day might not know anything about your day now. How would it feel knowing that someone who told you which side of the bed they got up on or what flavor of ice-cream they ate didn’t share something of much greater proportions with you? It’s a painful experience to have to share your time, your space, your right and your friend with another person.

The best of friendships disintegrate by one blow, one person, and one new relationship. Is it all worth it?

What if it wasn’t? If this new found love can walk into your life like a hurricane and turn things upside down, it can leave like a devastating storm too. Every true relationship you give up because of your love won’t curse you or wait for your love to leave but will leave broken and hurt. While you won’t be present to see that pain ease, that person will move on with their life hoping that you stay happily ever after. What if you don’t? Do you expect to find comfort in those same arms? Do you expect that friend to wipe your tears when they’ve learnt how to wipe their tears alone, thanks to you?

You need to know where you’re going but you can’t afford to forget where you came from. You need to draw your own boundaries and learn the importance of each relationship. And don’t ever be selfish enough to hurt a heart that cares for you and wants the best for you at the cost of few fleeting moments of joy. Then alone will love conquer and so will the friendship that was born long before love made its stride.