Two bodies, One soul

She had the eyes

But he was her vision

She had the mouth

But he was her prayer

She had the ears

But he was all she could hear

She had the voice

But he was her words

She had the mind

But he ruled her thoughts

She had the heart

But he was the beat

She lived her life

But he was her lifeline.

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What's in a Date?

Okay so today we celebrate the last sequential date in this century, 11-12-13. It's the last date with consecutive numbers to appear in the 21st century, but why the hype? Did they forget that every damn date in this century will never repeat itself? Or is this just another money-minting criteria adopted by hotels, hospitals, bars, wedding planners and pandit ji's to brainwash people's minds and inform them about the importance of this one date? Why the craze to tie the knot on this so called 'auspicious' date? Why the craze to deliver babies on this day? Are you going to tell me that its a 'lucky' day and will make your marriage last a year more than mine? Or your baby will be born an actor or IITian? Or probably that the food at restaurants will be better today? Hell, no. If love doesn't see person or time, why does it see dates? Ladies, If babies born on other dates can become Shahrukh Khan and Sachin Tendulkar, why the fuss about paining your bo...

Hope isn't just a word, unless it is shattered.

They say hope can lead to miracles, turn the impossible into possible but can it make the dead man alive? They say hope can be your umbrella in the downpour, they say hope can fix the leaks. But can it fix the leaks in your heart, the tears that kiss your cheeks? They say hope can bring merry, they say hope can make you rich. But can it bring you joy? They say hope fulfils desires, they say hope can win against hope. But can you hope against the despondence? They say hope isn't just a word, really? They say its more than a word. Of course, it's a way of life. Unless. Unless it is shattered.

..I Let Him Go

Tonight is no different. I twist and turn in bed like every other night. The events of the day run a recap through my subconscious mind. Nothing special. I twist and turn as grief takes over. One quiet sob. And another. And another. Before I know it, my sister is awake, holding me tight, asking me what's wrong. She's 15. How is she supposed to understand the so-called problems of adulthood? What do I explain her? So she just holds me close while I cry the heck out of me. It's not the kind of crying that babies do. It's not the cry for milk or for a toy or for a video game, nor is it for a dress or a party. It's over a guy. A lost love. No, he wasn't my boyfriend and he never could be. There are more kinds of love that can blossom between a guy and a girl, than you think. This was one of those different kinds. Simply because we were different - together and individually. I don't know why I cry over him but I ...

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