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Hope the walls keep changing, but the love stays. Home, shifting from one house to another, one job to the next, one city after another. Slowly. Breathing. Making breakfast every day. Feeling at home, every day. Flights to catch, money to spend. “Yeh sheher nahi, mehfil hai.”
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Why don’t we see religious books the way we see art? Art crosses borders effortlessly; we read a poem, interpret it as we wish, and let it flow without conflict. My pieces are shaped by art, by people, by love. Each is different, yet they all come from the same place and return to the
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One fine day, I saw my mother praying, for me. She wished that I would never bow my head when I didn’t want to, Something she, as a woman, had to do too often. She prayed so hard for it that her god must have listened. But it took years for her to see what
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I’ve always liked being backstage, Still talked about, but never on display. Where my ideas take shape, My vision unfolds, And the magic happens long before the world sees. Because when something is on display, It has to be perfect, Polished for the world, or at least for some. But some things aren’t meant for
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Coming back from a trip with the right person feels therapeutic, like carrying home with you, wherever you go. You wake up, and only the view changes. The people around you shift, the food varies, the windows frame new landscapes. But the room, the feeling, stays. I’ve lived away from home since school, but this
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Every morning on my way to breakfast, I’d pass a church and think, One day, I’ll go in, light a candle, as it’s been a while since I’ve even seen a church. For someone like me, it’s never been about the color of these walls. I just want to step inside, take in the silence,
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It’s so easy to sail through a sea of green flags, but even a single red flag can weigh you down like an anchor, pulling you under until you’re gasping for air, stuck in peace. All you see is water, all you see is blue, until that one moment when all you breathe is water,
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In the dark, sleep eludes me,Six months gone, a movie, long it seems Dancing on the wire as each month unwinds,Isn’t it smoother than risking all my finds Yeah, I want to find peace in today’s gentle light,But I still long for a hand to set me right A hundred dreams inside my head,Too scared
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In a world dominated by the internet, money-grabbing, and deadlines,I strive to embrace my humanity more with each passing day. I refuse to merely exist for my job, to withhold my feelings for someone, or to suppress emotions that arise within me. I am not a passive backdrop, easily replaced without consideration or reciprocation, I
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Have you ever cherished an auto ride so deeply that you crave the same sensation during your daily journey from one end to a new beginning? Longing for that one cherished auto ride every day is what I seek. The other ride, tinged with anticipation, compels you to hurry to your destination, not due to
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Clueless Ink 