Just like any other day, the pestiferous relatives exasperating me with their inutile home remedies for bright white and skin. The axiom of "Fair is Lovely" has been accepted as a theorem with any need of proving, yet there is no debates about it. I have a dusky skin and dad says I leave a spark where ever I go but why do those neighbor aunties call me ugly then. It arouses questions,

                         Is dad lying about the spark?

                       Or those who calls me ugly can't see the spark? 

                           Or dad just calls me beautiful because I am his daughter?     

                       Or for the world just the skin color matters?

If dusky is ugly,

                       Then why do people appreciate the dusk of evening?

                      And worship the goddesses who are dusky?

And I never understood people's concepts,

                                                                The dark colors are never outdated.

                                                                The dark clothes are always classy.

                                                                The dark sky is romantic.

Then why is that the dark skin can't be called beautiful?

Dad says, 

              The great goddess Durga who used her beauty to entrap her enemies was dusky.

              The most beautiful woman of the history who was desired by every men and was considered an art of the gods, for whom the greatest warriors of her time fought among themselves and whose beauty and holiness caused                    the huge war of Mahabharata, Princess Panchali Draupadi was also dusky. 

              The Singhal Princess and the Queen of King Ratan Singh whose reflection only enchanted the King Allaudin Khilji and caused the battle of Chitoor, was dusky. 

              Then how can only fair be beautiful? Don't let what people say get to you. They are doing what they do the best, to pull you down. But how can you be pulled down by some not-so-important people who are just like passing clouds in your life? What matters is, what do you think about yourself and what do you want to hear people say about you. Of course you should listen to eveything but absorb only those which you think can be helpful to you, which you think can develop you into a better version of yourself and not a whole different person.

(I have been very insecure about my skin for a very long time. Though when the stereotypical Indian aunties would point out that I would not get any good proposal for marraige given my dark skin, my granny would always defend me saying that she is not any desperate to get me married and she would love to see me being a very successful, respectable, powerful and independent woman standing high alone than spending her fortunes on something not so neccessary like a marraige, those words of those aunties would always prick me. Upon that the bullying in the school, not because I was less confident, nerdy or introvert but because my skin color made me look 'so-called-ugly'. So that was how it was till dad gave me a new perspective and it really helped change my outlook. So it is kind of an emotional topic given that I have been bullied for this from a very long age.)

Said Robert Muller, "Forgiveness is the highest and most beautiful form of love".

Mom said,

               Love makes it so easy to forgive the faults and failures of someone else. 

               Love makes forgiveness come on its own.

It made me wonder,

                              If it is so, then don't I love myself?

                              If I do love myself, then why is it so hard to forgive myself?

When asked baba,

                          he said,

"Forgiving yourself is the hardest thing to do. I agree. Even the strongest do things he sometimes regret. When regretting something or when upset, don't you call yourself stupid, idiot and all those sorts of names? Don't you wonder how angry can you get with; self re-approach, worrying and those useless vain regrets? You know, when your eyes whip you with those hot briny; it breaks your forces down, robs your self respect and turn that cute charming bashful smile of my princess into frowns. That's why when you do some mistake; see your fault, pay the price, learn your lesson but banish that very day and cast it from your heart. Every event in life have some importance but we should never dwell on it. Forgive yourself. So that you can love and respect yourself."

This Valentine...

I don't want a fine dine

Neither any hallmark cards

Nor any candied hearts

Neither those matching outfits I once wished

Nor this full lip to be tenderly kissed

This Valentine...

I want you to be mine

Your warm hand in my frozen ones

Your presence besides, under the stars

Not just the memories to give me company

Nor just that dried white rose in my diary

This Valentine...

Please come back to that shrine

Where we met for the first time

And made a promise of lifetime

Come back either as my moonshine

Or my eternal sunshine

This Valentine...

You cross that divine city's boderline

I will meet you at a magical sunset

Away from this mortal world's gate

From sunset to sunset, just me and you

Can you listen from the heaven, I miss you!!!

This Valentine...

Just

This Valentine...

NOTE :- I have written this long ago, during Valentine's day as a respect to the loved ones of the Pulwama Attacked soilders as 14th of February is also the Black Day of India.

Sitting together peacefully by the rose petal stream. The sky was overcast by the marbles of clouds. The sun draped our bodies as it shone ever so bright. The grass was soft as cotton yet as green as it could be. The trees were full of color for only my eyes to see. The birds, chirping love songs, soft breeze in the air, the place is so beautiful  as only me and my love were there. 

Majestic black unicorns galloping round and round in a circle and unusual pink sharks swimming about in the ocean. Teeny tiny people living in cute small homes and a nice big garden with the most colorful and beautiful flowers waiting to be picked. Surrounded by all these beauty but still my eyes are fixed towards the person napping in my lap.

I am overwhelmed by the feelings of staying in that moment till my bone crumbling to dust, soul getting astray, away from the endless pain where my heart is being mended and brain is being found and of living in this paused moment till eternity, stuck somewhere between heaven and hell, in my dreamland.

‌It was a quite night, the clouds thinned and the moon shone through. I leaned against the window, looking at the bright moon. With my mind full of thoughts of love, I plucked the strings of the veena, producing a complex fascinating melody of your favourite Raga. The soothing sound was lingering in the air, etheral and magical, like any heavenly music. My lips took the shape of the cresent above as I thought, “Music, the connector between us, can only save me from this overwhelming lovesickness”.

Still, I member you have told me that the moon in the clear night sky is stunning. Therefore, every sleepless night, I stand by the window looking at the sky. Am I sharing the same moon with you?

Everything in the world is a result of compatibility.

For example, dew fits in with Earth and makes it moist and soft; flowers and birds fits in with the forest and makes it a wonderland.

Perhaps this is the key issue.

You fits in with my heart and that's why I fell in love with you, the moment we met each other.

It's midnight.

Fond memory brings the light of other days around me in the candlelight.

Is that you?

Silhouetted against the lights?

I poured myself a glass of wine, mellow and sweet, but failed to drink it.

No, you are not by my side.

Only the moon and I.

Will u love me tenderly when I am young?

The morning dew is me

The intense wind is me

The cold snow is me

Will u love me passionately when old?

The night insect is me

The delicate flower is me

The cold moon is me

My lover, look at me, will you love me?

There is a place I know,

Where the genuine feeling of love surrounds me.

Where it feels like drinking the tsokolate of Filipino,

Where my soul feels so free.

A place where two tender wings hold me tight,

And sealing me yours with a love bite.

A place where I want to share my love every night,

Under the delightfully placid mute and mystic moonlight.

The place where I can smell your sound slumber,

Where I can taste your sweet fantasies.

Where I can experience your nightmare,

And can have your heartbeats as my lullabies.

The place where I can feel your lip's pecking,

Where I have an extreme blush on my cheeks creeping.

Where I can feel both of ours souls bonding,

Where I knew, your arms is my house of belonging.