04 APRIL 2017, 12:34 a.m.
They wandered freely; as if they ruled. Swayed such that it gave me goosebumps at times. The enthusiasm that they oozed certainly cannot be described. And I’d say it’s fine. Certain feelings don’t necessarily require words to be explained. A few minutes pass and I figure out my lips spread wide – without me noticing. I’m glad as long as the smile’s intact with those soft lips of mine. They’ve yearned for it all these years. My luck was never cooperative. Maybe I relied on it far too much. But those days, those beliefs have gone, blowing in the wind… The least I expected, the happier I was.
I’m tainted now. I’m not that pure soul God sent me. My body has bore scars, scratches, abrasions. Certain parts do not willingly function. It was probably a part of His plan. To experience the surroundings wasn’t just the plan. To acknowledge why we’re here and what purpose we bring along with us. That’s embedded in us. Which we ought to decipher.
A voice says it’s going to be alright. But when I look at myself into the mirror, I notice the opposite. The observation of the sixth sense is never wrong. I’ve been paralyzed so many times that now I just beg, just beg to relax. But life doesn’t allow any of us to simply settle down. Sad.
Again a feeling arrives that encourages me to go find my other half. But there’s no one to see. Even if someone approached, they weren’t one of those who’d reach my expectations. Who’d capture my soul before they touch my body, who’d grasp my mind even before they open their mouth. No! Fools, are they who take Love for granted. Another feeling arrives that soon fades, with a broken heart.
Why is it such? Are they meant to disturb my sanity? Or to play with my concentration? What do they think they’re even playing at? Fooling around just to shove me into an illusion that keeps me high to that false happiness (the unnoticed smile I mentioned) or even put me down in the dumps for no apparent reason. Perhaps it’s all in my head. Is this what I think? Or again is it them just fooling around?
Nivedita Kholia.

It’s all a myth. The times I was told the best possible way to shed the crippling load from my aching heart was to talk it all out in front of my best pal or whoever I’d trust. It never helps. In fact, the retrospection makes it worse. The memory stays fresh inside covered by a layer of your so-called sanity. Decades may pass, the world may come to an end, the very reasons may die, but the memory’s never rid away. It resides somewhere at the very back of your mind, pinching you like an obstinate five year old reminding you of its existence until it eventually drives you insane. It proves you wrong. The shadows will still haunt and you’ll never stop dreaming wild.
Nasty, is it?
*A crooked smile*
Nivedita Kholia.

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Why is this such?
An array that’s so absurd. Humans but no humanity? Why are we even here? Are we all just loitering to hurt each other, to bicker every second, to demean that will that was born with all of us? Why have things stopped making sense. Why is their silence, painful silent tears?
But still would it be fare to expect something better. Halo of serene that may bestow upon each Lucifer?
Nevermore.
Nevermore.
Nevermore.
– Nivedita Kholia

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Saturday, 18 March 2017 at 12:10 a.m.

Adventure is degrading by each passing day; the zeal is fading while the excitement and curiosity to experiment no longer sustains. It’s becoming funny, isn’t it- how we are loosing touch with Our Own life; with Ourselves? Wrapped by work by all four-sides. The political nine to six workplace display; your mood swings and unpredictable mood swings of your house (yes, yes, you can include your boss) and again that stupid wump waiting to challenge you while you’re out for your jog. What exactly does life want from you, right? In spite of being fed up, ironically we all carry on to earn bucks for our daily bread.
Now we’ve come to the point! “Bucks, eh!” Who doesn’t like ’em? What’s surprising more than this is how essential has it become – because the time we live in today, money can buy your satisfaction and your disappointment. Money can buy the smile and even the tear on your face. They even say it sustains a relationship. When did we do that? Uplifting the standards; improvising on lifestyles; acting persnickety or too busy flaunting sophistication, somewhere working on all of this, we’ve unfortunately suppressed that emotional touch that was in us. We all possess it. And we all destroy it (knowingly or unknowingly.)
Being human beings, we all are ought to keep our emotions intact. When did money had to interfere here? It’s no one else but us! We are very much responsible for this to happen. But we can’t blame ourselves entirely or even the others. We all are provoked. Pushed by life to be so. To sustain that position, we wrap ourselves into it – literally. Ages pass and we don’t realise, “When did things change around me; this wasn’t how it’s supposed to be; they sold the royal chair!” And several, several small questions like this, have no answers. And what was our fault? We just had no time. No time to look out from the window and glance that sky that wasn’t the usual. That boy who smiled at you. We’re missing it all.
But there’s nothing that can be done. There’s nothing that can be changed.
*Sighs*
Nivedita Kholia

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Monday, 6 March 2017 at 9:15 a.m.

Today the moon and I share a striking resemblance. She seems a bit more pale by silently admiring the flaws in this world, the curse one gives to another and the sorrows each shares with themselves. Today again She stood there. Telling me about those people who went home alone. Fed up of honesty. Sick and tired of being polite. Demeaning their esteem. And eventually sleep one more night depressed. And between all of this, why do I find Her sick? Do I notice my head feel twice its size, too? This implies the connection we share. Well, I won’t say it’s the world that’s just filled with flaws. I must admit, we have ours too. The Moon has Her spot while it’s me who has a scar. They say The Moon was cursed for She was full of her beauty. But what about my scar? The scar that, on the contrary, has a lot of memories from my days when I was a child. No! The scar, I’d like to call a punishment. Every time I gloat over myself in front of the mirror, it comes in front of my sight. Reminding me that this is what you get each time you do something for them. For the people out there. Precisely, for each ‘Cursed one’. They’d certainly take you for granted and leave you to die. And all of this, my dear friends, wasn’t false. To err is human. But now the time’s changed. ‘Deliberately’ has a prominent existence. We live just to trouble others. And this I say with absolute faith: without a doubt. 

But still She comes out, not spreading her light bright and loud, but with Her own grace. She’d come out silently within her territory to adorn the sky. To be admired by couples sitting by Paradise. To fulfill certain wishes or perhaps, promises. And sometimes just to be seen by those ambitious souls or by those wee ones with plain pure feelings. Perfection personified. The scars of Hers is no big deal. She’s being an inspiration.

And all this I see; and all this I feel- simply looking at her and blending in the atmosphere where everywhere is serene…

Nivedita Kholia

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Monday, 27 February 2017 at 5:46 p.m.

This is not any of those ordinary afternoons. It’s an afternoon where my burdensome eyes, after witnessing so much of misery, noticing refusal and sometimes bow shamefully themselves, now beg to rest. To never open. At least for a decade. Or more than that. My chest already carries that constant heaviness. That heaviness, that some may call anxiety, had enough of everything. And now just wants to breathe; to breathe satisfactory breaths. Not any such breath, that adds upon to the remorse. That makes you feel more heavy. Going through all of this makes my head giddy. Seems as if every misery around me has affected such that it twirls inside my brain, deliberately making me feel dizzy. Conspiracy is concealed in every shred. Even the sun in these “extraordinary” afternoons burn a little bright. As if it wants you to feel the heat and burn inside. When did my imagination get wrinkled? Since when did my skin turn pale? Someone rid away that stamina that resided. There’s so much that’s happening, but whom to blame?
I forbid accusing people or even situations. Not that they’re not not responsible. They absolutely are. But who all to name and what all to leave! There’s already so much which would not interest you. And in all honesty, who really cares?
They yearn… My eyes. They crave slumber. Fools! Thinking the moment they wake, everything will be left behind. Who’d tell them that Reality makes us pay. Fyodor Dostoyevsky once said, “It’s better to be unhappy and know the worst than to be happy and live in a fool’s paradise.” (In an excerpt from “The Idiot.”) Unfortunately and sadly, we all are living in our own fool’s paradise. There’s just a handful from the mass who really are aware and understand the truth. The truth; their lives, that demands to delve deep and acknowledge their purpose. Acquainting yourself with it, what I feel, is just not enough. If you really want answers, you have to go deep.
So, I’d better let them (my eyes) expect the impossible. I want reality to strike them hard so that they don’t meet tears. All my efforts, sadly I know, eventually will go in vain…
Nivedita Kholia.

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To, my silence. 

Tuesday, January 31, 2017 at 10:24 PM

The silence inside resounds and whirls around
Yelling from the abyss
Desperate to come out and screech out loud
Wining and urging to reveal itself
Alas I lament! For all of this, I know, goes in vain

The silence is a voice sacred
Not to be heard you may call its curse
But it owns a soul I’d say; that flutters and sighs
Oozing that restlessness into mine
Burning another flame, another something that shall die with time

But I insist, my silence has words
That stoops the pride that arises at times
My silence can swim into that glare – your guilt
And somewhere beneath, realization shall show up that shall never be revealed
All of this, without me noticing and without a sound…

Dear Erebus, come shake hands with that voice within
Consume my soul and run in my veins
Let each cell in my body soak you in and unite our souls
For darkness’s love deserves some colours
But remember not too loud, all of this, we’ll do in silence…

Nivedita Kholia

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