Monday, December 8, 2014

Just saying...

September 23, 2014
01:36 PM

Always narrate a love story beautifully. A lot of wishful thinking and dreams rest in between the lines somewhere. They will see their sunset someday.
Not here.
Not today.
Not yet.

© 2014 Neha Choudhry

Random writings...

September 20, 2014
07:20 PM

Things we carry with us tirelessly
A few missing pieces
Dented, bent, crooked in places.

And then we do away with them, eventually
some months, years down the line.

In places remain the scars
where the crooked angles made home
the vacancy of it all
and the endless vacuum.

© 2014 Neha Choudhry

Monday, July 28, 2014

Jane: A cry

She earnestly looked for a way to state the obvious. This was the one she could lay down her life for or so she said. But did she? Who knows. The only reality she ever left behind was that she existed once.

He was aloof. Who would bother looking for the girl-next-door who happened to be his only confidant for as long as he could remember until the fall out happened. Thereafter it was more of a "Jane who?".

Pages. The slide-out brick in her closet held all her secrets. Cursive in blue, italics in green, bold in black and his name 'Eric' in red. Perhaps, the girl who was forever clad in black did love colors after all. But there was something else she loved more. No points for guesses.

One mess of a suit that was. Black, thank goodness he had one. His brown pillow-styled hair missed her fingers running through. Did he? Be glad he even bothered to be here at all leaving that half-clad woman in his bed, the one he met at the bar last night.

Her script was beautiful. That was the only thing someone marched up to say for her empty-casket farewell. The four-letter eulogy of a girl who loved to write.

But where was she?

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.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.

Where would you go when you know no one is ever going to look for you? She tried taking refuge in words. Day by day she lost herself in the world someone once created. To her it was just, to her this was sanest of the sane she could imagine. Then one day she started carving one out for herself, a world of her own. Imagination was magic. Words were her wand. Fire and ice couldn't have had a better hybrid. Her eyes were embers, her kiss was death.

Not many get to pen their own eulogy. Even if they do, they don't live to see it being read.

.
.
.

"To you she was weed.
To the world she is rose."

...goes the first page of an extraordinary title that has been penned by someone going by the name Rose.

"Jane: A cry" went on to be the fastest bestseller of the decade.

.
.
.

Eight years later.

One mess of a suit that was. Black, yes the same one you are guessing. His brown pillow-styled hair missed her fingers running through. Did he?

He finally did love. That was the only thing she marched up to say for his close-casket farewell. The only eulogy for a guy who traveled the world to find this girl he loved only to finally meet his end right by her door.

A speeding car signed his fate.


Rose Jane Eric Mathews is how she now signs her name.

© 2014 Neha Choudhry

Image source: Tumblr

Thursday, July 17, 2014

Turn

It'll burn
It'll heal
It'll burn
Again
This heart of mine
it loves this game.

I'll write
I'll tear
I'll write
Again
This memory of you
it needs being penned.

It'll lead
It'll fail
It'll lead
Again
This love of ours
it grows in pain.

I'll walk
I'll smile
I'll walk
To him
This morning of January
it will see the vows being exchanged.

But if so much as your shadow I see
Buying some time from time you recede
By the doors you linger
By the altar I wonder
I'll run
I'll break
I'll run
For everything that was
I'll turn.

© 2014 Neha Choudhry

Image source: http://freepri.se/1ysGBrJ

Thursday, April 24, 2014

Storm Chaser

I never did quite understand how I could absolutely love something so destructive. Maybe it was always the proximity of pain associated with it or the imperfections it painted on the picture perfect life. Or maybe I liked the feeling of finality in the phrase 'Ashes to ashes, dust to dust'. It could be the gait or the way it blows your mind looking at it for real, approaching you to engulf you, feast upon whatever still keeps you sane. The moment you meet enshrouded in the thundering blankets, maybe the memory of that breathlessness still keeps you from breathing, at times. And when it whirlpools the way out into the infinite again, it marks you as his own in bruises no other lover could bear the sight of and leave you the kind of vulnerable no rebound would be able to satiate ever.

I never did quite understand how I could absolutely love something so destructive. Not until I met you.

Not until I left you.

© 2014 Neha Choudhry

Image source: http://bit.ly/1ftYWdo

Saturday, January 18, 2014

Letters Huddled Together

... And so I picked up what was left
Pieces of what will be forgotten soon under layers of dust
I held them close for once
To you I dedicated my last dance
Humming the tune to the song I once chose
To walk down the aisle to, in my hand concealing a little pink rose.

Tonight, too, it felt like walking on clouds
Only this time they thundered, scattered and took me down
My words lost their letters
As what was all glitters
Crashed
Turned ash.

I could fight it, I knew
Saving a sapling I could plant it anew
And hope this time it grows
To gift me that one pink rose
But when all you shed was acid in name of rain
I chose to let death take over, dignify the endless pain.

So walk with me this last
Don't take my hand if I start to speed by fast
Just breathe in time with me for a few more moments
Lets just sync heartbeats until frozen
And never see eye to eye
While I disappear before you remember to say goodbye...

© 2014 Neha Choudhry

source: http://imgfave.com/view/1618075

Tuesday, December 17, 2013

Fog, Fantasy & So-very-everyday

Glaze paper planes
Every day I make one
Tiny people, matchstick men
In folds of each I place one
Who knows which eyelash wish I blow
lands on one and it takes off
Or maybe some falling star
Sneaks in my room as I sleep
and steals one.

It rained today and I also heard
that the fog is so dense, flights won't go
I sat cross-legged on the floor
With my colored patchwork PJ's on
And pictured your smirk, your eyes, your face
as I undid the folds and turned planes to boats
So the waters
would take them along.

Kitty-tail handled mugs
Every morning I pick up two
Out of habit or sheer make-belief
That maybe out of nowhere you
would apparate here
I pour in hot chocolate
And stare the empty one
Till the time I'm done
And place it back
yet again.

I spilled the milk this morning
and your cup shared the fall
As I left the scene to bring something to clean up
The phone buzzed, your call
I came back minutes later
remembering I had a task to do
Having devoured it all, curled it lay
cuddling the two mugs together
my tiny cat, Furball.

Lock & key diaries, a few scribble conversations in class
Random pictures in random places
are bits of you that I have
All day the thought of having them keeps me sane
And my nights are a jigsaw, a never-ending hide and seek game
I see you sometimes
I never reach you though
But I wake up to play
the same thing all over again.

I finally did find you this night
after months of tracing in vain
And when you held my hand
I felt the death inside of me breathe life in
You are like gravity
I can't help but give in
I was being drawn in your arms
my world was that moment, you, just then.

And then I fell off the bed for the nth time
Who knew it was the actual gravity calling in.
A sleepy me narrated you the scene
while a world apart, the sound of your laughter
Played the paused song, my heart sang again.

© 2013 Neha Choudhry


Thursday, November 14, 2013

...And then there was her, the Hurricane.

I could be dark
The kind night would need, to sleep closing eyes to
The kind stars would welcome replacing the sky anew
The kind that looks at you and your secrets come undone
The kind death would cuddle as a baby next to.

I could be a storm
The kind that comes and goes often, no inhibitions
The kind Nostradamus would have had a hard time fathom into illustrations
The kind that sweeps past and life breathes in a sigh of resurrection
The kind sea would go down on knees for, pleading unison.

I could be fragrance
The kind that unlocks memories set to flames
The kind sweat would stream down his brows to unite with, it's personal suicide mission
The kind that re-instills faith in love even when the rose lies crushed, end of game
The kind happiness has, trapped in the neck of his sweater awaiting the first winter kiss to liberation.

Or

I could be that one dark storm
That sets free your dementors
Redefines your infinities
Annihilates your fears
And leaves you with a fragrance
That you'd walk in search of
For eternity.

© 2013 Neha Choudhry

Saturday, October 26, 2013

Dance

As leaves turn gold and give in to gravity
Remember the kiss of that new rose on your palm.
As your heart quivers, struggles beating through the snow
Remember the stardust you are made of, and love.
As scenes change around you, the silence pierces and applause isn't a cure
Remember that after you walked in, few lives were never the same.
As you get back there, where you belong
Remember the stage is still yours, so is the song.
As it runs through your veins, that rush of adrenaline
Remember no step is too difficult to pause your dance.

© 2013 Neha Choudhry

Photo by: Marta Locklear (http://bit.ly/H7IbK0)

Friday, October 18, 2013

Where to, Miss?... To the stars.

"You are gonna go like this?"
"Err... Ya! What's wrong?"
"Umm. In yoga pants?"
"Long flight. I don't want unnecessary buttons poking me in and out."
"Right."
"I know", saying, she winked.

A hug, her tearful eyes and smile.

And she was gone. I stood next to her empty house for sometime, taking in her absence. I knew it would haunt me in the coming days but I underestimated the intensity just then. It was cruel of her to go like that but then I knew our test of times had just begun. We had to see this through. Anyhow.
.
.
.
"It's too dark and cold."
"Also", she added, "I saw Paranormal Activity 2 during the day. I can't..."
She is such an extreme case. She can sit and watch a whole box of horror in a day, munching buckets of popcorn and not twitch a bit or she will be this scared little ball of fur, hiding in cardboard box at the slightest sound outside the door.
"Baby, it's just the wind probably."
"That's the word. Probably."
"..."
"I know it's nothing supernatural but you know, the dark is beautiful and sets my imagination out the normal boundaries."
"So, are you going to pick those hanging clothes today or not?"
"I have to na..."
She sounds irresistibly cute when she just wants me to approve something she anyway is going to do, adding the trademark 'na' to it.
"Ya baby, go! I am on the line. Don't hang up, keep talking and pick them up."
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.
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"Oooo La La. Tux and all. Someone is looking handsome today!"
"Today?” I teased.
"More than every other day, I feel like kidnapping you off the venue and drive off in the dark."
"Why do you go all criminal mind on me?” I loved poking her like that.
"Cos I'm crazy for you."
"That's news!"
"Go die, you."
And she laughs.
She doesn't know I often record all this. Just because.
.
.
.
"First salary!"
I called to share it first with her.
"Save a tenner for me. You once promised me ice cream."
"That's it? That's all you want?"
"No."
"Then?"
"You", she slowly said.
"I am."
"I know."
.
.
.
"And, it's my time to announce now."
"Go on..."
"First salary here!"
I could hear her musical laughter along as she said it.
"Go get yourself what you really, really wanted."
"What?"
"A telescope, silly."
"You remembered?"
"Ask me what I don't remember."
"Tell."
"That was supposed to be an expression, idiot."
"I'm just playing with you."
"When was I serious anyway?"
.
.
.
She sends picture of Orion and asks,
"It's blurry, isn’t it?"
"A little but beautiful."
"I love the Orion Nebula."
"I know."
"I wonder how it would be, up close."
"..."
"Let's sleep?"
"Its afternoon here, babe."
"Oh right. I'll hit the bed then."
"Dream me."
"Dream you."
.
.
.
5 years later
There she is. Her eyes looking for me as I take my first step on the new land.
Her eyes go brighter and she smiles. She saw me.
*hug*
It felt as if a steam-cyclone just ran through me. Flushed, I stood there holding her.
The world vanished at the touch of her hand.
She was my little wizard.
.
.
.
"Where to?" I asked again.
"You'll know."
"Still..."
"Surprise", she finally said.
Standing on the Glacier Point at Yosemite with her in freezing temperatures.
Her nose had her "I'm so cold" tinge of red.
Her cheeks were pink and all smiles.
But what struck me was the curiosity in her eyes.
It was getting darker with each passing second. People poured in on a full moon night but she decided it for tonight. A new moon night.
"Tell me!"
"Close your eyes."
"What?"
"Do it. Close your eyes."
I did.
And she intertwined her fingers in with mine. She was cold. Won't be anymore.
Few seconds later, she said.
"I love you."
I opened my eyes.
Hers were closed shut.
I looked up and then at her and then back up.
"Open your eyes, it's time."
The Milky Way was finally showing up. Vibrant, taking over the sky.
I hadn't seen anything this breathtaking.
After her.
.
.
.

15 years later
"Popcorn?"
"I made us two bags, love."
"Thank you. Let's go. It's gonna begin anytime now."
It was a meteor shower tonight.
"I forgot the telescope."
"Don't worry. I set it up already."
One by one she climbed the stairs. It was such a task for her. It was kind of cute seeing her try.

"Look!"
I was looking.
That same curiosity in her eyes. I forgot to breathe for a moment.
"Close your eyes."
"What?"
"Please."
I did.
And she intertwined her tiny fingers in with mine. She was cold too.
"I love you daddy."
"I love you sweetheart."
A tear trickled down my cheek.
I let it.
"Where's mommy? I can't see mommy tonight."
I took her little hand and pointed her index finger to the Orion Nebula.
"Mommy is home. Her new home."
She smiled.
The same smile I fell for, years ago.
Still do.
Every time.

"Thank you", I whispered as I looked back up.
I guess the stars twinkled in answer.
Or was it just me.
I don't know.

She loved stars so much that she became one.

© 2013 Neha Choudhry