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  • wakaranai 4w

    // Youth //

    When something precious to us comes close, we have 1000 things to take care of, 100 people to talk, 10 hours a day and only one person to do it all. You.

    We give importance to a lot of unnecessary stuff, our comfort zone for the matter. We want things to go a certain way, we want everything in our hands without putting in significant amount of effort into it. We ignore the existence of those around us to chase our own selfish dreams, and we live caged even we have all means to go out and talk to people. We take the burden of our existence all on our shoulders thinking it would cost us the fortune of our self esteems to be vulnerable in front of others. However what we don't realize is, everyone else is vulnerable on the inside, although the degree of vulnerability might vary from person to person. And we don't realize this until we put our heart and soul into building something together with someone.

    If there's one thing youth has taught me is that you don't really exist all by yourself, and rather coexist in an ecosystem filled with all kinds of people, who come from all kinds of backgrounds. You might think you don't know them so they don't matter, but when you'll be an hour short on the interview of your dream company, you'd be helped by unknown faces who might never be there in your life again. Life's an environment where everyone's groomed to represent their youth, and not their own self, when worst comes to worst.

    This personification of a place, that has existed years before we were born, and will continue to shape itself in the future when we won't be around anymore, has shaped us to be the person we are today.

    Some of us might have gotten where we expected to, some might be miles away from their dreams, but if you've lived the early years of your life and thrown your heart out without ever expecting to get it back again, you've lived. You've lived enough.

    Enough to narrate stories for the rest of your life.

    Read More

    "Ek minute ke show ke liye nahi, ek mahine ke memories ke liye kaam karo"

    - Alma Matters

  • wakaranai 6w

    Schmitten,
    by the mere sight,
    of calmness,
    peace sinks into me,
    when my feet crumples over,
    dried leaves on a streak.

    I have always had this constant urge,
    to do something, say something,
    or just be someone,
    because without it,
    life feels a little empty,
    and like they say,
    silence speaks the loudest,
    when words fail to find an epiphany,
    to confide in.

    I can't stop looking at you,
    walking right beside me,
    as something tells me,
    how I've always craved for you,
    just your mere presence,
    and somehow,
    I still feel like my clock is ticking,
    and I can't make it stop,
    even if I wish to cease with you,
    I only got so much time,
    to spend with you.

    Every step I take forward,
    with you,
    I feel like we're heading somewhere,
    somewhere we belong,
    even if I can't place a finger on it,
    even if I can't name it,
    I feel I belong with you.

    I don't know if I'm making sense,
    to you or myself,
    but something inside me tells me,
    that I can really, really fall in love with you,
    if I allow time to age us like a fine wine,
    step by step, as we keep walking,
    sometimes on the edge,
    other times comfortably in shades,
    I wish to skip time ahead,
    and be at the place,
    where we'd finally not have to go home,
    and rather come home,
    to each other.

    I don't know how long it will take.
    I don't know if it's the right thing to do.
    But I've got to trust my heart,
    because it only and only rings one name,
    and that's you.

    I know you can't be intuitive about stuff like this,
    but as they quote in dead poets society,
    this is the stuff people live for,
    and I wish to live with you.

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    If you know someone you don't mind walking forever with, don't let them go.
    ©wakaranai

  • wakaranai 19w

    //i choke on reality//

    Have you ever been caught in a place where you can't put your feelings into words?

    And not in a good way, more like you're too scared to pen down what you really feel because you don't want to pluck out thorns that are already penetrared deep into your skin?

    Welcome aboard.

    I've been running around in circles thinking that closure isn't meant for people like me.
    I've been running around thinking that love is too great an emotion for someone like me to commit because I probably am just a silhouette that will fade away when the light does.

    My words haunt me at night, and they tell me that writing them down would mean finally giving in to my emotions. It would mean being vulnerable and open to the fact that I have a lot in my head that I'm well aware people wouldn't understand. Maybe they would, but I would never give it a try. Because every inch of my being tells me it's better to keep things to myself. And although people tell me that it gets better with time, with more people around you, with more experiences, and how everything ages like wine, but in my opinion if it's already worse, it will just worsen.

    Such emotions are wounds that need to be catered too and treated with utmost care. If left uncared for, they'll be septic to your mental well being and end up causing you a lot more pain than you initially thought it would.

    However, some might say that it's okay to be in pain. They'd romanticize it and tell you how something is worth dying for if you put your heart and soul into it. And perhaps it is, I'm not here to name anybody wrong.

    But what use it is if you're continually resorting to hurt in the name of love, and get nothing out of it?

    If you lose yourself for anyone or anything, what do you even have left to call yours?

    And if you're okay with not calling anything yours and living for someone or something else, what is the meaning of your existence?

    Some would say there is no meaning. Some would stop reading at this point because things feel too broad to narrow down now and too open ended to pinpoint a finger at anything. But give this a thought: "If you can't put yourself into words, and be who you are, is this what you really want to put all your effort and energy into?"

    I've often been told that I talk of the same thing over and over again, in a 100 different ways. And it scares me to know that I'm just another shallow human being who's too afraid to face himself. But atleast I know for a fact that I would address my emotions even if they stomp me to hell and burn my entire existence down with it.

    So, that's what I'm doing rn. Putting myself to words even though I absolutely make no sense, to myself or the world.

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    The world runs on abstraction.

  • wakaranai 22w

    Meri khwaahish

    yehi toh woh din the
    yehi toh woh raatein thi
    shaamein mastaani thi
    jab paas tu aati thi

    laati thi tum chai ek pyaale mei
    banaati thi pakwaan narm haathon se
    kehti thi jaan, thoda muskura do na
    mere yaha rehte, tum kabhi nirash ho na

    rehti thi mere kareeb, tu inn kitaabon mei,
    kabhi shabdo mei, toh kabhi khayalo mein,
    aati thi mere tu paas, meri rooh se mujhe riha karne

    fir bhi bharosa nahi tha,
    mujhe teri unn baaton pe,
    kyuki kehte the log,
    ki rahunga mein akela,
    aawara si inn paagal raaton mein

    par ek nagma tha,
    teri inn aakhon mein
    jaha kho mein jaata tha,
    samandar kinaaro mei
    shayari mein bunta tha,
    tere anmol naam mei
    gaane mei banaata tha,
    teri hii yaadon mei

    khayalo mei tere,
    basa tha mera sheher,
    jaha aaye hazaaro tufaan, baadh aur shaam
    jo hawao mei le gaye, pyaar bhare,
    humaare haatho se bane makaan

    yehi toh woh din the,
    yehi toh woh raatein thi,
    kaash tu yaha hoti,
    yehi meri ek khwaahish thi

    ©wakaranai

  • wakaranai 25w

    //happiness consumes souls//

    For long, I've felt that happiness isn't something that you can fetch based on little things which mostly people rejoice in doing. For example, I could never find happiness in just a mundane walk around the forest, be it with a loved one or by myself if I don't have something intricate to share. Or do. Or think about. Or random giggles with the closest of friends even if I'm giggling for hours. Or dancing to loud music. And etc. Because it feels really empty to just find happiness in little aspects of life, as every one of those aspects fail to involve your mind completely. You can feel at peace but you can't say that you're happy. Especially if you're trapped in a room filled with people, each trying their best to fit in and extract as much joy as they can from others around them.

    Happiness can never be truly found if your heart isn't exactly where it's supposed to be, for happiness can never be casual. It should always come from the depths of your heart, and make you want to lose yourself. Like a ballet dancer, performing in front of an audience of thousands after months of practice, or a sports person finally representing his country in the Olympics, or even something personal but absolutely involved like confessing to the only person you've ever truly loved your entire life.

    But it should always be soul consuming, or else there will be shreds of loneliness in the crevices of your very being, reminding you to consume more. To not let even a single stone unturned. Because there will be a lot of them you will fail to understand. You will always keep on jumping between things and questioning what's missing in your life, or even worse, comparing yourself with others. But if you really get to the crux of it, you'd realize that being happy is not that hard. And it doesn't always involve whatever you think makes you happy. Sometimes, it can be something very intriguing, like working out in a gym, but it can feel soulful once your body adjusts to the rigor of things and you'd look forward to it.

    You won't worry about anything, there will be no doubts in your head about it. You'll be absolutely clear about what you'd want to do, at any point in your life. It might be painful to watch for many, but it will enrich your soul with experiences you'd look back at and feel complete in yourself. You won't be able to get enough out of it. And trust me, you'd never get enough out of it. You'd be absolutely involved in your life, and even if you don't know where it's going, you'd be happy. Because you know that this is what you want to do. You don't know how long you'd want to do it, you don't know if this is what would be fruitful to you in anyway, but you'd still want to do it. And pour your heart out like molten chocolate right to the tiniest drop of it. Because there are decades where nothing happens, but days where centuries happen.

    These days would give your life a purpose, and even if you don't fulfill it, you'd be happy. Because this is what you wanted to do. And unlike others, who resort to 100s of mundane things, you actually stick to what's yours.

    And that's what can make you absolutely happy.
    Nothing else can.

    ©wakaranai

  • wakaranai 26w

    Skies soar through the echoes,
    that chain you in an endless melancholy,
    where your thoughts seem distant,
    and getting lost seems more relevant.

    You keep searching for answers,
    that make you go around in circles,
    and throw you in spots,
    where questions burden you with an existence.

    I stand firm, sometimes a million miles away,
    other times just a fingertip away,
    hearing you whisper as you'd stay,
    and ask me whether I'd be really okay

    Even though your days would be traumatic,
    with no-one by your side to normalize it,
    you look up to me, every single day,
    as if I'm a therapy you can't live without, just yet

    But darling, I want you to know,
    that no matter where you find yourself stuck at,
    no matter how many roads you lose a track of,
    even if you can't find me within an arm's reach,
    I'd be right around the corner of your lips,
    ready to listen to your melodies,
    whispering memories, that feel too good to be true,
    but they're all yours, as now,
    it's just me and you.

    ©wakaranai

  • wakaranai 30w

    There's a man who's fond of wearing masks. He wears masks infront of everyone he meets, although he doesn't wear it all the time because it's too exhausting to make his ends meet with that on. When the pandemic hit us all, he didn't feel anything at all because he's used to living in his old shell. Isolated from everybody, secluded in silence, there are only too many adjectives that describe the way he feels. There's so much he wishes to pen down, so much he wishes to carve, but little did he know as long as he doesn't feel anything, he wouldn't be able to create universes out of nothing. For that, he'd have to be a God, but he's a mere human. Like you and me. He despises those who don't see him, and falls for those who do, but the deeper he delves into the strongest of his desires, the scarier it gets to look into the mirror. There are emotions that are left unsettled in his heart, and emotions that keep him warm even if his entire world is tearing apart, but little did he know, right there inside his heart, lies someone who would always keep him from falling apart. Someone, who considers him to be as human as everyone else, for all that really matters to him is a little exchange of kindness to lighten up the day. The world seems a little warmer to him now. It begins to take on colour, and everything doesn't feel as harsh as it used to feel. The scars still remain, the pain still subsides, but the heart feels right. It feels right enough to let love reside in the corner of his eyes, that long for a vision tall enough to be called "mine".

    ©wakaranai

  • wakaranai 34w

    //We aren't alive//

    I read this somewhere, that once you get a little too close with many people, there comes a point where you lose a track of what you really feel. You get a little too close with strangers just because a bunch of memories felt nice. Or you don't get close to anyone at all, because you fail to connect with anybody the way you think you're supposed to.

    You might have been someone who used to feel really deeply, dream high, sour loud, with a bright smile on your face that yelled how you're going to ace everything that comes your way. However, piles of dust racked over the corner of your history books, narrate a totally different story. They tell how you never revisit certain memories, yet you never had the courage to get rid of them because they're too dear to you. And they meant the world to you, at some point or another.

    It lingers over the crevices of your thoughts, until the outside world overwhelms you with what's supposed to feel nice once again, and you lose track of what you're supposed to feel. And trust me, nobody knows what they're supposed to feel. They just run after everything that feels nice, and accumulate stories for the rest of their lives.

    If I were you,
    I would shed dust off our bookshelves,
    pick up something that really hit home,
    and sip a cup of tea
    to delve back into nostalgia
    and figure out what mattered the most to me,
    when I wasn't running haywire to feel alive,
    and actually was.

    #pod

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    In a world filled with idiots wanting to feel nice, do you want something real too?
    ©wakaranai

  • wakaranai 40w

    Snowflakes decorate the corner of my room, where dust swirls around in circles on a windy night with nobody by my side. I've often read books over cups of coffee that I procastrinate sipping over for hours, often distracted by words that hover over my head trying to fill thoughts I can't make sense of.

    It's not just I can't make sense of them, but more like I don't want to make sense of them. It's like an exercise I often feel difficult enough to perform, one can say I don't have the sheer strength to face what lies right in front of me. I've been ignorant for as long as the light years take to let us know that stars born over 500 million years ago, still exist over the periphery of our eyes. The light makes me crawl a little less in my darkness, and rather adjust the curtains over the window of my dreams. This is where I always gaze out wondering if I can ever take a flight across the skies, like a carefree character from dragon ball, and circle around our tiny little world in a minute or two.

    But here I stand, quietly decorating my room in the dark, not worried about whether the light will creep in to make me feel at peace. The pages of my old books flutter, as I let the wings of my imagination fly with my eyes absolutely closed, absolutely fearless. They are right when they quote that you have to let go of what holds you back, to let yourself free.

    A freedom you perceive when you hear the cicadas chirp in a cold, lonely night, or an epiphany you encounter when you finally run fingers through dreams that lie right around the egde of your shoulders.

    The cities tell me that I'm still alone,
    and might always be so,
    however my surity tells me,
    that I'd rather be alone
    holding my fairy tale close to my scarred heart,
    than be together with the rest of the world,
    afraid that my entire world could fall apart,
    if I don't.

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    Let the skies sleep with you.

  • wakaranai 42w

    // there's no pattern //

    Many a times I surrender to the quivering feeling of fear. I don't face what's right in front of me, because I believe it's okay to let things be. I find it comforting enough to escape my dreaded fate with anything delusional. And delusions, my friend, are powerful. They carry with them the power to derive pleasure even out of the worst times of your life, because they assure your mind how everything's alright and there's nothing you really need to stand up against.

    And let's face it. How many times we have done this in our life as well? Almost every other time. Trace it back to your school days, where a group of pretentious gangsters would do anything they wanted to, and other students would just stay away from them and pretend to be normal. Our elders have told us to accept everything the way it is, and be positive about everything. How can you be positive about abuse? How can you just rub something off in the name of fate and let it go? How can you just assume that whatever happens, happens for a good reason because that's the way of nature? For how long are we going to accept everything in the name of normalcy and divinity, just because we aren't supposed to behave a certain way?

    I was a victim of this mentality as well. I still am, in a lot of ways, in a lot of places, with a lot of people. I'm a serious person on the inside, but I rub everything off with humor and normalcy because I am afraid to speak up. I'm afraid because people have been so mean to me, that it just hurts to face the same set of emotions all over again. So in order to maintain my sanity, I just go with the flow of things too and don't accept everything the way it is. Even if all fingers are against me, which is mostly the case. It has all evolved into a pattern that I can't seem to get rid of, starting from the first time someone I dearly adored told me "If I'm gonna sulk so much, everyone's gonna leave me someday or another.".

    But you know, being a nice person has reaped rotten fruits as well. So, why do I even bother saving myself, when there's really nothing left to save at the end of the day?

    I'm done justifying myself. If the world isn't fair, and if it isn't meant to be fair, I'm done letting things be. I'm not gonna let all the fingers be on me. And I don't mind ripping them off one by one if that's what helps me sleep at night.

    After all, if people don't treat me right, why should I even bother to make things right every single time?

    If not for myself, who am I even living for?

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    Stand up

    Ye ayino kii adhuri sii ek khwahish hai,
    jo mere chehre pe aa simat ti hai,
    samajh mein na aye mere lafzo ko,
    kyu pyaar ke samandar tale,
    nafrat kii ungliyan,
    mujh hii pe aa theherti hai.

    Par mujhe farak nahi padta ab,
    farak nahi padta tufaan kii aandhi se,
    farak nahi padta ghaavo se, nishaano se,
    farak padta hai toh bass chehro ke nakaab se,
    jo rokte hai meri rooh ke hawao ko,
    rihai mein udaan bharne se.

    ©wakaranai