Posted in confessions, Flashback, Hostel Diaries, love, Memories

A Place Like No Other

The clock hits 3 at night and he’s been wide awake. He has been lying supine and staring at the ceiling, with an open travel magazine resting on his chest. Page opened to his first published photograph. Proud moment indeed. Yet, he was thinking about nothing at all and thinking about everything, all at once. Sleeplessness captivates him. With the thundering sound from outside, his soul runs elsewhere. Despite of the fact that he was here, traveling in the mountains, like he always wanted to. But like each night, tonight his heart was lost, wandering somewhere entirely else.

The place where his stomach had ached laughing, for every time he remembers. Where he stood talking with his friends, late at nights. Sometimes, not just talking but shooting at each other through guns on the computer screens. The place where nights often turned to mornings just by walking around from the basketball court to the football field. Place where friends turned into brothers.

Boys Hostel at School of Planning & Architecture, Bhopal | Picture Courtesy: Umang Goyal

Yet today he lay here, peacefully in the hotel room. Controlling the talab – the invoking of his feet to get up and go out in the woods nearby. To put a cigarette between his lips and inhale the taste he had been told to forget. This urge to burn his lungs had been common now. Even though it has been 4 months since he left smoking and that place where he smoked for the first and last time. He wanted to go out and see, who would meet at this hour of the night near the city lake. Who else like him, cannot sleep in the cozy hotel bed. His stomach grumbled with hunger, so he decides to go out and eat. Then he remembers the midnight meals with the online football matches. The ink of thoughts is spilled again over his blank mind. Those four years were something nobody can take away. Those moments, have settled in his abrooh – his conscience. The endless Memories take a stroll and like every night, he falls asleep thinking about his Hostel Days.

Posted in answers, City, confessions, her, Jaipur, love


Metaphorically, Jaipur – the pink city, the city showers people with love! She is ride of Joy! A person visiting her cannot come back without a smile on his face and a desire of going back again! She is unpredictably lovely!

The city has confined everyone with so much love, it’s enigmatic! 

Unfair it is, that people are allowed to leave her. Because, we know, when people leave, they take a part of you with them. When people become a part of your heart, their leaving, that hole of emptiness becomes the heaviest of burdens one has to carry. Yet, this burden is ‘trendy’. Like humans, she has the charisma to welcome this trend and befriend it before anyone can even apprehend.

Oh boy, is she naughty! She is disordered, she is mismanaged and chaotic! But the beauty remains same, the essence, the fondness, the overwhelming warmth remains fiercely unfaded and the loss, well, the loss becomes a trendy fashion! A fashion wherein, the old, the damaged turns into something new. Something new, with a sound of new love bringing a dance of new smiles.

This city makes you hopelessly romantic. The romance for the culture it endures, the romance for the creativity it beholds and the romance for gushing winds in silenced nights. And this pink coloured romance, will briskly pull you to an intimacy from which you will never recover. You will never get over her. Jaipur shall always be an incarnated part of you!

– Srishti

Posted in answers, confessions, conversations, hurt, love, pain, questions, smile

Unconfessed Confessions!

He asked her questions and for the first time she had no answers. But, those questions were not just his questions, same were hers, too. There was something in the unanswered question, something in the nothingness she had. It was the kind of nothing which meant everything. They stared at each other and she knew from then on, what his beautiful eyes used to shriek in high volumes, were just lost conversations. Lost communications. And he knew, that she was an unblemished piece of art. And that, art was not meant to be understood, art was just meant to be observed and praised. But he also knew, that he could either decorate it, disrupt it, fix it or hold onto it and love it. Since, art was too new for him, he wouldn’t know what to do.

She was unsure of his decisions, unsure of his choices. Of course, falling in his priorities was her only wish, but he knew this not. She was ready for both, come what may. Ready to be ruined by him, for he would be the most beautiful ache she has ever known. The most beautiful tragedy. She just doesn’t want to let the sparkle of his eyes go dull. She wants to let the questions be. As she was made up of the answers. And she knew she’ll be left with less of herself if he quits. And he knew this. He knew he could break her apart, and he was ready to reconcile her in her shattered form. Despite, she wanted to feel everything that life had to bring. Every question, every emotion. She knows, her smile will still be a painful perception, a venomous charm and a colorful dynamite. Because his questions are her pain, her venom and her colors.