Juliet’s Wish

I wish I was still by your side,

Close enough to still call you mine.

I wish I could walk through the doors,

And see you smile, forevermore.

I wish your name would still go with mine:

Let our fingertips touch and intertwine.

I wish it didn’t hurt me now,

To only see your face but to hear no sound.

I wish we had more time to learn,

To grow, to grasp what we’d become.

I wish I didn’t love to hate you now,

I wish I didn’t hate to love you now.

I wish we weren’t this far apart,

And wish I still had a place in your heart.

I wish my silence was a lot less loud,

I wish you were here with me right now.

I wish for a past not the way it was.

I wish for a future we could make ours.

I wish we hadn’t hit the stonewall.

I wish I hadn’t met you at all.



if Romeo remained lost forever, but Juliet had tried to move on.


The Daydream

I keep imagining this perfect day in my head, where I’m walking down a street somewhere in the middle of California, talking over the phone in my usual hysterical way, and I bump into you. It’s completely unexpected, unplanned and astounding, to see that flustered, panicked, apologetic look in your eyes, followed by immediate recognition. You smile at me, I grin back, the person on the other end of my phone call remains forgotten. We hug, exclaim saying, ‘It’s been so long!’, and we make plans to meet up the following evening.

Flashforward 24 hours, I’m standing before my mirror, deciding what to wear. I shuffle between my nicest outfits, all spread out on the bed, and 2 hours later, I find you at our table, in the first dress that I picked out. We sit and talk of all the time that’s passed since the last time that we met, 10 years ago, at a high school alumni event. You tell me about your dog and the 9 puppies she had, and of your job, that you thoroughly enjoy, and I can’t help but admire in that moment, how inexplicably good you’ve always been at making the right choices.

At the end of the night, we’re sitting at the bar. You still don’t drink and I have downed my 8th shot. I look at you, tears of recklessness brimming my eyes, and you recognise that look, you’re all too familiar with it, from the last good day our teenage selves had. You laugh, and hold my hand, pull me into the car, rev up the engine. The responsible side of you locks my seatbelt. And then, we’re flying down the freeway, speed limits make no sense to us. We’re pretend-pirates, and the wind’s in our sails, ahoy! You took the risk. You finally listened when I said, ‘Let go! Life is too short!’.

We spend the night in the car, just sleeping, I promise. We’re somewhere in the country, with only headlights and the moon; and my hair is a tangled, bird’s nest when I wake up, my eyeliner from last night has my eyes look like a panda’s. You’re already setting up an impromptu picnic outside, with two cups of cold green tea and two broken cookies. I’m still in my nicest dress, and the wrinkles on your shirt resemble those on the corners of your eyes, 40 years from that morning, when you’re smiling at me as you say, ‘Happy anniversary, sweetheart’, and our daughter’s standing there, with her hand caressing her baby bump and our son’s twin boys are running around his legs.

I imagine this perfect life, more number of times than what’s healthy for me. But unlike you, I’m largely impulsive and indecisive, so I can’t really promise that it’s always your face that I see.



Confession as the Unwanted

She will never love you like she does them : you will always be her shame. She will never be as proud of you as she already is of them. She will always be one to mock at you; laugh when you fall down. And if it’s them that you help up, don’t be silly, you’ll still never be the hero.

They are worthier, probably, of the love she can never give you. Although she may pretend, her love is nothing but an act. Don’t be blinded. Her “affection” won’t last. Don’t be delusional. You’d rather not be in her life. Can’t you see, she’s ashamed to call you hers? She’d rather always see them.

You see, it’s not your fault you’re not her favourite. She never wanted you to exist in the first place. She was proud to see one daughter forced. She was sad to see one son happy. And you’ll never know what happened then: you, my dear, weren’t born. But all you have to live with now, is knowing she never wanted you to be. She didn’t want it at all.

But it all happened anyway. You’re sitting here now, facing the fall. It’s okay, darling, I promise it’s not your fault. You’re not the only reason she’d rather be gone.

You see. you know already, and you witness proof often, of how your laugh is not as precious to her as is the next child’s snore. She’d rather have you run away, than see you conquer on your own. You’re like a little vermin in her life, the constant nagging kind. Yes, she tolerates you only for she must. You are her blood after all, though sometimes it seems like she’d have rather fed it to the dogs.

Look I’m not saying she doesn’t particularly love you. I’m just saying you’re not her favourite, by a large margin. You’re never going to be her sunshine. She’s never going to smile for you. And there was a time when she thought she could love you, the time when you were trying your best to blend in: trying your best to be like them. But then you had to go ruin it, didn’t you, you bastard? You had to choose a path of your own. You had to want to be different. You just simply goddamn had to live the way you’ve always wanted to. You idiot. You absolute moron.

But, it’s okay. You’ll be fine, I think. You’ll live this life alright. All I need you to remember though, is that no matter what, you’ll never be that favourite child*.



this article was in no way a mean to target a specific individual. it is purely based on a hypothetical scenario i thought of on one of the many nights i spent sleeplessly staring as the ceiling fan rotate tirelessly.

no further comments.

He Said

Growing up, everyone’s always warned me about a great many things. When I was younger, my parents made sure to tell me not to touch a flame or I’d burn myself. The taught me never to talk to strangers too much and never to wander by myself in a place I didn’t know of.

They also warned me about making sure that I set a goal for myself in life, just so that I would have a path to stick to. They told me that only once I reached that goal, would I be able to claim of having done something worthwhile in life.

So, as anyone would at this point, I started out on my journey, careful to be fearless and cautious at the same time. I was ready for that adventure of a lifetime. And just when the path started out, maybe a few miles down the road, I was hit by the biggest hurdle I had ever faced alone as of then, and even still continue to face it on multiple occasions to this day. Yes, I’m talking about the one thing in our lives that puts us all in our place, and that, is disappointments.

I wouldn’t be lying if I said that the first time I ever looked disappointment in the face, I was shocked, confused and terrified at the same time. I was disoriented at a whole knew level, and so very lost. I didn’t know what it was like, not living the life I imagined I would, every time I closed my eyes before I began to do anything of the sort. Everything was supposed to be perfect, the way I wanted it, but it wasn’t. Instead, it turned out quite the opposite, really. And it took me a while to fully comprehend the fact that no matter how close anyone is to success or how absolutely perfect a moment could seem, in all honesty, disappointments are little evil creatures only lurking around the very corner of the road. Whether it’s due to a friend failing to keep their word or the latest instalment in the Harry Potter series, disappointments are literally, everywhere, and there is nothing we can do to escape it.

Because here’s the truth.Throughout your life, you’re going to be more than disappointed with yourself on multiple occasions, when you find yourself tangled up in a mess that you created. You will fail every time you challenge yourself and honestly, I wish I knew earlier that that was okay. In fact, failing is good. Only when you fail, and maybe not just once either, will you ever learn how not to.

It’s a very important thing, rather, to know that failing is a necessary evil, and it’s all based on what you do after that matters. You’re always going to hit rock bottom, and every time, you’ll hit it hard. But it’s always also in your hands to choose whether to give up, or graciously find your feet and get back up. Your failings don’t define you. Your perseverance does. I don’t know where I’d be right now if  very good friend once hadn’t taught me that.

He taught me that disappointments very much exist, and he and I, along with the rest of us are very much part of it’s vicious cycle-to disappoint and be disappointed. But there’s never a peak without a valley, and within what would the beauty of relationships lie if everything was monotonously perfect? He taught me that working my way up to the top from way below under was the only way I could redeem myself. And sure, I’d fall again, but the ups and downs are the only reason I’m distinguishable from a motionless piece of metal. He told me that it was okay for me to disappoint myself, and it’s only once I reach the top that I’d be fully contended, because I’d have finally surprised myself by doing all that I never thought I could.



this article has been overdue for so long, i’ve probably disappointed the very same “good friend” of mine all over again, but oh well. 

yes vishaal, this one’s for you. and i can’t ever tell you how thankful i am for every single time you’ve had my back when i felt as alone as i ever could. thank you for pushing me to get myself back into my right mind, and thank you for everything you’ve ever said to me that i will always treasure.

also, i hope you’re still awake after reading this whole thing lol.



The Door

I look at the door, once a bit too often;

For habit demands you walk out once more.

And maybe, with time, I should be immune to it,

But has Time ever given us what we needed?

I let you walk in, I hoped it’d work.

I hoped to keep you forever, to never be alone.

But betrayal and hopes have always gone hand in hand.

Maybe it’s true, opposites really do attract.

How easy was it, to walk away from this,

Leaving behind everything you claim as yours?

Or is it just natural that you take all that matters,

And shove it where it will never be found?

Do you hear that noise, my dear?

Yes, from beyond the door.

There seems to be a buzzling traffic

Trying to find their way in.

But fear, are they to do what you did?

To walk in, not love and walk right out.

Till I am nothing, but crumpled reminders of them.

And of course, there’ve been more than you,

Who crush me and walk away each day.

But you’re still the one I’ll put all blame on,

Because even today, though we’re miles away

I’m still looking at the door.



A Child Of The City

Who is she, the child of a city?

From her very first cry, almost seventeen years ago, to the latest ones that mercilessly turned her soft pillows into a dripping wet mess, she has changed beyond words. But then again, so has everything and everyone around her.

Since that rainy and dull yet delightful May afternoon, she’s never been a static particle. She’s been everywhere and no where at the same time, and yet, she’s of a simple nature and  is cunningly easy to understand. She has her great days, when she’s glowing with a well deserved look of pride imprinted onto her skin; such days that contribute to most of the memories that fall under her section of achievements. And then, much like every other human that walks the surface of the earth, she has her stormy days, when almost nothing goes right and the wind seems to get knocked out of her lungs every few minutes the least. But through her incessant rumbles of sorrowful moans and her breathtaking moments of pure ecstasy, she was, she is, and she will always remain a child of the city.

A child of the city where there’s never any form of certified guarantee. A child of the city where happiness, sorrow, confusion, anger, mischief, are all bound into a singular abstract structure of feelings, dutifully acting as the governing laws of the lifestyle. The city where tomorrow is an option open to all and yet none, and yesterday is just as equally irrelevant compared to the momentary second that passes as the digital clocks mark the onset of another minute. A child of the very city, whose every inch and crevice screams a feeling of home and belonging and yet threatens enough to warn us of the impending doomsday. She’s a complicated story, designed with details as intricate as the endless alleys running down the busiest of roads in the heart of the city. She is that one out of an entire eight and a half million people, and this is her side of the world. This is a little glimpse of life through her eyes. She, who was born the child of one city, and raised the child of another. She is finitely infinite, the most contradicting of conflicts. She is only one, and she, is me.

Welcome to the minuscule online space that now belongs to me, my thoughts and my words. All opinions regarding anything uploaded by me on here are most looked forward to, provided one’s personal dictionary of nasty vocabulary remains a private treasure.

From the one who looks for a real-life Hogwarts as a part time unofficial profession,