Posted in Article, Experience, People

People You Laugh With :)

Every time I pick up the pen to give words to abstracts or the most materialistic ideas the ink flows in a familiar direction. But the urge to write about the people I love has left the paper with blotches and specs of blue. No words. Just abstracts. Abstracts I can’t pretend to materialize. Materialistic talks- strangely- with great depths. The friends, the family and the hardest choices.The moments I fain to express! Alas! A failed attempt of expressing and realizing but a still better option of living the moment. I don’t understand the joyful glitches of depending on people. All I know is that somehow these things are meant to be no matter you possess the hardest shell.

Our lazy-selves and hectic classes (at least according to us students) does not allow us to be morning people. Just one of those crappy routine things our parents think we are too proud of (we aren’t- just a lifestyle- not good or bad- just there).Certainly the rule of king, prince and pauper does not apply to us hostlers. But we have our very own set of rules including pretending to not share food but share it anyway; fight for the last bite; no plate belongs to a sole person; talk your heart out but don’t lose focus while eating- you probably know otherwise; and the list can go on.For us meals are not just a routine. They are a kind of synonym for rejoice. Keeping up with our daily revelry one afternoon seven or eight of us were waiting for food at the dhaba we generally visit. It was fun as usual. All the chirping, mockery, leg pulling, linking people together, terrible session of match making and off course eating! We kept sitting there even an hour later. We just weren’t ready to get up. No realization of the clock ticking by. At that moment we were unaware of all the stress we had before stepping there and the one we’ll have to redeem with while we step out. Suddenly all my friends’ smiling faces grabbed my attention. How typical? I know! Even after knowing their every fucking flaw hearing it from someone else makes me heed towards my turtle shell. Those few seconds of staring at them laugh deciphered a secret message that all we need is people we can laugh with. It might not be everything but it is exactly the kind of typical I want to stay forever.

P.S.: I know this is too cheesy. But what’s too much is me looking at the videos of my friends from the trek I missed!

Posted in Artwork, Experience, Graphic art, Poem

Absurd Intersections

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Ever been on the verge of crying?

Yet held back ’cause of a scrofulous friend- denial.

The thoughts that’ll be forever damned- ribald, solicitous and vile

Hard to admit – I, being a lingering curse.

Fear the modest; Escape the shy

Reciting my moral-less fable I walk past the adverse.

Oh the magic potion! The wicked witches’ alcohol

Dripping in my body drop by drop

It cuts my heart open

And burns his soul

A mystery of giving in; slowly losing control

I start to talk; Pick up till I babble

I speak my mind- the bold and all the dirty talks

I lose my innocence to him

Now unafraid of harbouring the innocent sins.

Erupting volcano- emotions just not right

I wait for no one to keep an eye

That is when I bitch ‘n’ whine ‘n’ cry

And commit every devious crime.

Yes, now a woman with every thought absurd

I catch up with his every word,

Finally a glimpse of our world’s intersection…

I wake up the next morning

Blind to his new love

Oh! The last night? It wasn’t me!

It was like giving alcohol a tongue and a pair of lips.

-Ruchi Bhardwaj

Posted in Artwork, Poem

The Woman I Pretend To Be..

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I pretend to be calm in the ocean of tremors

I pretend to smile listening to the rumors

Trapped in my own colours and countless hues

I pretend as if I don’t know the real you

I keep away from probing-

Scared my  fears shall be affirmed and true

Aware of the apprehensive depths

Alas! the shallows I fear.

Dread it when shallows are deep

And depths no more obscure.

I have nothing to hide; No need to conceal

Yet I pretend to leave behind an aura of mystique.

Drenched in my own thoughts, soaked with imagination

I pretend not to think the queer.

I know it all- Pretend to be a wandering soul

I pretend to stay in one place

When my world had traversed the entire universe.

I pretend to stay quiet

Listening to my own silence when it makes the never ending creaks

And it hums a little song amidst the bleak

My heart filled with music; A tune ever repeating

The same rhythm just different lyrics

I pretend to stay still not dancing to my own epiphany

I pretend, pretend and pretend- a game that never ends

Not to merge, not to camouflage- but an urge to never blend.

-Ruchi Bhardwaj