Hymn Of The Sinner

She looked around the room and found the black, broken-winged creatures staring at her, ready to pounce. She put on the blanket over her face in sheer daunt. Everyday she thought, she would learn to live with them but the pain and the gloom became insufferable. She tried to sleep the fear out but she had forgotten that no amount of sleep can stop the virus from killing the host.
She heard the door open and heard her mother's sound came in, "You have been in the bed since the morning. I got some soup."
She didn't reply. How can mother not see the creatures?
"I am going to leave the soup on the table." She heard the door close.
Soon the soup's smell filled the room. She did feel hungry but the fear of attracting attention from the creatures kept her under the blanket.

With utter reluctance, she got out of bed, very much aware of the creatures' stare on her. Her head felt heavy and it took her every ounce of energy to keep her standing. She grabbed the nearest hoodie she could find and left the house without a word. Behind her, she heard her mother call her name.
She found the street empty. Why was I expecting anyone out on a cold December night? 
She knew the creatures were following her. She quickened her pace but the creatures never left her side. 

She came to a halt when she saw him searching for something under the streetlight.
"Hey." He said when he saw her.
She smiled and said, "Can I help?"
"Lost the watch somewhere here."
She gave a little laugh and pointed towards the bench,
"Right. Thank you."
"No. Thank you."
"Why? You found the watch. I didn't do anything."
"That's not true. You didn't let my demons kill me." 

Endless Possibilities

She woke up covered in sweat. Just a bad dream, she told herself. The clock read 4:12 am. She could still get good two hours of sleep but falling back asleep meant the possibility of getting the bad dreams. So she laid there thinking about the endless possibilities. 

Her mind wandered back to five years ago when she sat in the aircraft ready to start her life, but deep down she wished there was no phalange on the plane. She wanted to get off the plane and not get off the plane. She wanted to start new and remain where she was. She wished to God she could do both. If she left, would she ever see her favorite face again? Would she ever get a reason to live through her bad days? Would she ever find the calm in the chaos?
She wished the aircraft to remain still because as long as it remained still anything was possible. She liked the idea of possibilities.

The alarm clock rang pulling her out of her reverie. It had been five years but she always wondered what if she never left? How different her life would have been? 

Paradoxical Night

Walking through the streets with the dimly lit street lamps and the bewitching starlit sky makes me realize that 2 am is the most beautiful time of the day.
It connects us in an uncanny way.  

2 am, when the dreamers are trying to cope with the daunting reality and the realists trying to sip dreams.

2 am, when the loved ones are happily wrapped up in love and the lonely ones craving love. 

2 am, when it's beginning of a new friendship and cessation to an enmity. 

2 am, when someone's head is too messed up to allow sleep and someone sound asleep. 

2 am, when someone's nightmares are louder than any bomb and someone's dreams are spreading its wings. 

2 am, when someone is gazing at the moonlit sky and when someone's sky has gone dark. 

2 am, when the writers and poets are bleeding words and their poetry and writing are sound asleep, oblivious. 

2 am, when someone is trying to relate in a world unrelatable.  

Ted Mosby said, "When it's after 2 am, just go to sleep. Because the decisions you make after 2 am, are the wrong decisions."
But sometimes those wrong decisions lead you to the right path.

That's the beautiful paradox.  

Almost Complete

"How can I stand here with you, and not be moved by you? Would you tell me, how could it be, any better than this?" The song played on the coffee shop radio. She stopped sipping her coffee and concentrated on the song. She felt the tornado building inside her, her demons waking up and her stepping into the eternal gloom. She hated the dichotomy between her situation and the song. Her stomach twisted and she wanted to run back to home. But for her home didn't exist anymore. Home didn't have a heartbeat anymore. 

Almost, that's the petrifying word. Almost full, almost done, almost happened, almost reached, almost said, almost together. She had read so many book but none of them had the remedy for the ache of a broken heart. 

Rain began to fall softly making New York look even more beautiful. She paid for the coffee and stepped out of the coffee shop thinking, Was she ever going to come out of it? Was she ever going to find peace? Was she ever going to heal? Was she ever going to be happy?
Even though her mind flooded with the questions, her heart knew the answer.
Maybe.
And 'maybe' isn't a pretty word. 

Panorama (II)

Veronika stared at the bestseller self on which sat her first novel 'Panorama'. She couldn't believe her characters had made it that far.

"Ma'am, we are ready to begin the book signing." Dena, her assistant, informed her.
The first person she met was a girl with thick spectacles who wore a pretty smile. She kept on saying how much she loved the book. The next person was a little girl with braces. She even took a photograph with Veronika.

Veronika had signed twelve books without any interruption but the thirteenth person made her stop. The same turquoise colored eyes that she had seen a year back stared at her.

"The world is small, right? He said.
"What?" Maybe she was too surprised to comprehend what he meant.
"We met here an year ago in this exact bookstore, remember?"
Of course she remembered. How can she forget someone who didn't like The Catcher In The Rye.
"Yes, I remember. Did you read the book again?"
"Yes, I did. My opinion remains the same about the book. But I have decided to keep the book with me."
She sighed and began signing.
"Name?" She asked.
"Evan."
"Here you go." She said handing him the book.
He began to leave but turned around and said, "Maybe when you are 16, the world seems a little shaky. I wonder how Holden is right now. Too bad I cannot email the author." And then he was gone.

His words echoed in her mind and suddenly she was happy because she was going to find out about Holden. 

Breathing Magic Into Mundane

"Why do you read?"

This blog post is solely dedicated to the above frequently asked question.

As an only child, with both parents working, I had to find a way to fly through time. And so, at the age of 8, I was introduced to Alice and her wonderland. I can still recall sitting on the bed and devouring each page of the book. Oh, those characters and the sheer brilliance of the book. The ending was something my eight years old self never saw coming and she was pleasantly surprised with whatever happened. If it weren't for Alice I would think I am the only one mad here. 

Yes, that was the first novel I read and since then reading became the major part of my life. Growing up I was met with Jane Austen's strong women characters and Shakespeare's characters fighting for their eternal love. Stephenie Meyer made me realise that love is the best part of any story while J.K Rowling showed me the lights even in the darkest of times. Sophie Kinsella made me laugh when I couldn't think of laughing and Richelle Mead told me that family isn't just about blood. Cassandra Clare opened the door for me to the shadow world and John Green told me that endings aren't always perfect but their purpose is what counts. 

These authors and their characters made me realise that I am not alone and that reality isn't so petrifying if one can breathe magic into mundane. 

And as Tessa said, "One must always be careful of books and what is inside them, for words have the power to change us.”  

The alphabets joined together aren't just words or sentences to me. They help me survive the inferno on Earth. (Not a hyperbole) 

If I pen down all the reasons why I read then this post will not see an end so, I will just end it with a quote from Alice In Wonderland,

“Imagination is the only weapon in the war against reality.” And ever since I have been fighting reality. 

TOSKA

“... you’ll have to fall in love at least once in your life, or Paris has failed to rub off on you.”  Hope closed the copy of Brushstrokes of a Gadfly by E.A. Bucchianeri and stared at the illuminated Eiffel Tower. Magnificently it stood with its beauty.  

"Paris does no magic and love is a lie." Hope turned around to find a girl about her age standing in front of her with tears rolling down her cheeks. 

"What's wrong?" Hope asked is a low voice. 

"Ev..everything." The girl replied. 

"Do you want some coffee?" 

The girl stared at Hope for a moment and burst out into tears. Hope rushed to her side and pulled her into an embrace. "Let's get you some coffee and then you can tell me all about it."

Taking a sip of coffee the girl said, "You know.. how you are fine and nothing out of the ordinary happens with you and then...one day...you bump into someone who just flips your world. For better and for worse. It's always better in the beginning. In the beginning time stands still. Things are always right in the beginning.  The laughter, the butterflies in the stomach, the halfway meet, the conversing through eyes. The beginning, t's perfect. And for the first time you aren't dreaming. You are in perfect reality without hating it. It's the end that kills you. You never think you will get to the end but you do. When you meet the one time catches up fast and before you know it you are back to the waking nightmare. That's all, you know."

"I know." Hope said in a whisper. She knew it very well, Even after seven years the emotions haunted her. They reminded her of the heartache. It's as if the demons are stabbing her every time his face, his words, his smell floods her mind. She missed him in the most human way possible. She will never wrap her head around the fact that the emptiness will last. Forever.