Love That Sees No Perfect

I've fallen in love again
That day started just like any other day
There was nothing special about it. Nothing unique.
I didn't wake up with the feeling that something big is about to happen today.
I wasn't in the best shape of my life, I wasn't wearing the "good" clothes that I own. My hair was a mess and I woke up so damn late.
It was raining and dark and my car broke down in the middle of the road.
At the end of this day, like any other, there was a person smiling at me, kissing the mess that I am.
It was then that I found my love.

Love made me realize, ideal is just a myth.
Love knows no perfect, no absolute.
Love, MY love, likes imperfections.

Memories Repeat

I've seen him there, just where he was a year ago and the year before that...
I've seen him walking down an empty lane, smiling at me
I've seen him in front of me so many times, kissing me at the very same spot, again and again.
The same person, the same moment repeating... And then he stops.
Suddenly I don't see him.
I see only myself, sitting at the same spot I sat a year ago and the year before that.
I see myself crying and hurt and digging a hole in my chest to find that one speck of love for him.

I've seen him HERE again, just as I have been for the past year. And I'm glad to say,
Today was the day I closed my eyes.

Seeing Him Again

In this room, with chairs facing the other side, and selfish faces talking
I see the man I love from across the room.
And all I do is stare at the unfamiliar face of a happy man, who sits opposite a happy woman who isn't me.
My hands are shaking, my legs have frozen and my eyes well with tears as my food gets cold.

What would have been if he saw me, will he walk up to me as he lays his eyes on me or will he ignore my gaze.

With this thought, I look around to see those thousands of faces.. wondering if they are looking at him too.
Looking at him the way I am and like the woman he's smiling at.

Just the way someone who loves you would look at you

Spectacles

I wear my spectacles everyday and everyday I see things differently
I see the bitterness in words, the fakeness in laugh and wrecked in relationships.
I think, I think too much. Observing has become my hobby. I think there is so much hate in the world, that it is almost impossible to stay positive.
But before this, things were simple when these spectacles I never wore. When things were happy with not the weight of the world on my nose.

Peace,
Muskan💓💓💓

Love, Lust and Fights

Love, lust and fights

What a crime

They hurt the most but I still smile.

They give the scars you never see and leave things broken beyond repair.

You fear things, the doubt is always there just like the shadow on a sunny day.

The pain in the chest grows bigger every second,

You be there not, the tears still fall.

It is the magic that touches like spines,

The pillow of sacrifice that I sleep on, every night.

You see, and I bet I look okay, because

Love, lust, fights

What a crime

The hurt the most, but still I smile.

Peace,
Muskan 💗💗💗

The Lost Home

The street light flickers and blinds me for a second. Suddenly all the bugs surround me and I feel the need to use my tail to get rid of pests. But this isn’t helping a lot. My paws and chest are covered in dirty water which makes my skin itchy and ticks attract me. My stomach grumbles and the image of the closed dumpster, because of the rain, comes to mind, my only is guess I wouldn’t be having supper today. The noises of other dogs fighting surrounds the narrow street. I had recently got some fresh wounds, with courtesy of the street fighters. Five years ago, I wouldn’t have seen myself in this situation. I got left on the street. Maybe it was because I had three legs, or maybe because I turned ‘too’ old. I still remember her patting my head, rubbing my ears and her sitting on me, I know she would come back. I know she misses me and would be thrilled to see me again. I limp my way back to the hiding and rest my eyes allowing myself to sleep with my lucid dream.

Peace,

Muskan💗💗💗

The Bird In A Cage

A poem on depression and loved ones not understanding the emotions of one. 
By Muskan Narang ( Sakshi – pen name)

I live in a cage ; all alone

Let my wings breathe

You see my tears as tears of joy

You feed me, so grateful I am, but do you even ask what I am hungry for?

Your love is like the branch of a tree, but inside, you are hollow.

You play with me like a kid’s toy and talk to me as I am listening.

But the truth is, my story seems sadder as,

I live in a cage ; all alone

Let my wings breathe.

I live in a cage ; all alone

Let my wings breathe

Here the walls thicken with every breath and I wonder when I won’t be able to breathe anymore.

Here darkness and sadness swallow me and sickness does no harm, because I already have a hole in my heart.

I smile to show you, while inside everything hurts.

You see me, you judge me, I am happy. But am I ?

I live in a cage; all  alone

Let my wings breathe

I live in a cage ; all alone .

Let my wings breathe.

It is pitch black here.

I shout but no one listens and who cares?

I drink my tears as you tell me to live with it.

Don’t you see I’m drowning and I am already neck deep.

I stay in silence, all alone because your words and you mean nothing to me.

My feelings, I can’t get out, doesn’t mean I don’t have any.

You tell me I did this to myself, Are you human or just a piece of meat?

Let the bird come out once again or you will never hear her sing.

Let the bird come out once again, as she is in a cage; all alone. Let her wings breathe.

I live in a cage; all alone

Let my wings breathe.

You paint my cage every now and then and put in gold accessories. But you don’t touch me, kiss me and tell  me you love me.

This is just a phase, they say

But Alas! I have been thinking this since I entered this grave.

Now the only hour I will see the sun is when I die and the cage is ready for another one.....

I live in a cage; all alone

 Let my wings breathe.

Peace,

Muskan💗💗💗

The Pain In My Chest

The pain in my chest

There is a constant pain in my chest

Hours pass, but it never rests.

Tears drop, blood flows , there are fights and screams but it never leaves my side.

It is a shoulder that makes you cry and a foe with the face of a friend.

It lies to give me comfort.

Peace,

Muskan💗💗💗

Loving You

Loving you has been a rollercoaster ride,

Whenever there was a peak, there was a slide.

I always said how beautiful your eyes looked without the tears, but you never really knew how many I shed dear?

I never thought I would see this day, where you come to me and kiss me saying, hey!

The struggles I did, the chances I took, I never thought would give me this sweet result.

That I would get the chance to call you mine and cuddle.

Peace,
Muskan 💗💗💗

Hopeless Romantic

Being a hopeless romantic, I have always dreamt of a person who will make me feel like a queen. Someone whose world was around me and loved me passionately. I had always dreamt of this and I think as a teenager I will continue this dead end search of my prince charming. But searching for a diamond, you get coal too, which is of value too. I found my coal in the form a conclusion than if , my whole life, I try to find someone who loves me, I might never be able to love myself. It took all my teenage years to get to understand this. I am still trying to implement this in my life but you know how difficult it is to mend old habits. After all, old habits die hard ! Whenever I didn’t fit some clothes and my parents commented on it, I would wish there would be someone , someday who will appreciate my body just the way it is. Whenever I commented on how beautiful someone looked and they didn’t say, “you too” I would be devastated and wondered will anyone ever praise me? With all these thoughts  in my head and having various crushes, I realised that when I , myself don’t think I am beautiful or am not satisfied by my body, then how come I expect someone else to? I can’t just depend on others to make me feel like a princess . Some wise lady once said, “be the princess of your heart and people will treat you like a queen” it doesn’t matter what body type you have, what your skin colour is. A Ferrero Rocher is a chocolate which has a golden wrapper and has delicious chocolate inside. For the people who buy it, it doesn’t matter to them what the colour of the chocolate is or what shape it has, all that matters is the chocolaty goodness inside. Just like the chocolate buyer, you own yourself, and it doesn’t matter what you look like, unless your inside is good. Remember, not many people have a good, pure soul but many have a great body. I have been insulted various times on stage while I performed in school. People shouted insane things to let me down and those insults certainly got into my system. I shied myself off from the stage and forever from performing. In turn I became one of the people from the crowd who clapped for the people on stage. In my 10^th standard, I finally decided I would step on the stage. I , then, realised that I loved the stage and to hold the attention of the audience. From then on, there was no going back. I am still continuing my public speaking course and have won various certificates both at the institute and school. I have gained some confidence . But there is a long way to go, but you know what they say, life is a journey, enjoy it step-by-step.

Peace,

Muskan💗💗💗

Nature's My Friend

A cold wind blows urging me to stop crying and my hair wraps around my face like a hand asking me why?

I turn my face right away from the nature’s question and face the crowd remembering their cold hearts who whisper words so cruel that my hands aren’t big enough to cover my ears. The room gets smaller with every  passing moment and dark and gloomy with no space to breath. They laugh and talk together in merry joy and I think to myself if I will ever fit in with these lifeless laugh toys.

The wind soothes my hand and my tears find their way back and suddenly my tear drops are replaced with sky's sorrow.. the rain overcame the sound of others and filled me with satisfaction and glee because now I know I don’t want their approval I have faith in me.

The storms return and leave the wind behind, because tough time never last but tough people do.

Peace,
Muskan💗💗💗

Brothers

It is a beautiful day, not because the trees are showering red and brown or because the sun is smiling on me, it is because I am going hunting with my brother, my god. As we are walking on the path of those merry crunchers, I enjoy the sound that they make. My brother, the god’s face now starts showing anger lines and a disapproving frown. It would need just one crunch and he will ‘sush’ me. As I take a step forward, anticipating a ‘sush’, I see a deer run out of the gun’s sight and my brother, furious as he is most of the time, turns to me. And with a powerful jolt in my body, And a piercing sound, I hit the ground. My brother shouts my name “Kevin” and flees the scene of crime. As I tilt my head to see his short but manly figure running away, I sense the poking needle-like pain in my chest which slowly spreads to my arms and torso.Looking up at the sky, the empty canvas of my brain starts to paint the pictures of clouds and the blazing sun. I know nobody is going to bother seeing if something is wrong as I am wearing black and with my eyes open, I look like a person enjoying the weather. Even though my jaw refused to do it, my mind had an inside laughter.  My dizzy mind can’t get anything to do and my arm feels weird. As hours pass and the sun almost shied away from me, behind clouds because of my constant staring and the clouds seemed to guide birds to their homes, I am almost numb as if my body has accepted the bitter pain and I have almost camouflaged in the forest surroundings. I have now lost hope for the search parties to find me.

Peace,

Muskan💗💗💗

The Poet's Agony

Lo and behold! The poem stands still, and the poet is relieved again.

Every word that the poet wrote was carved into his body with knives, and every full stop stopped his breath. For he lived a life of a sorrowful poet whose emotions were alive on paper.

His throat was chocked from crying internally when his emotions were being expressed in a verse.

Because they finally​ found a way to come on paper,more close to his heart.

Finally, when the ink stopped on the sheets, the tears were free to flow, as the sorrowful poet now knew what he felt, his words expressed them free and bold.

Peace,

Muskan💗💗💗

KYA TUM MUJHE JAANTE HO?

-          

KYA TUM MUJHE JAANTE HO?

Ye mera sawaal sirf aapse nahi, balki mere sabh bhai bheno se hai jo iss zindagi ke bheedh ka hissa hai. Mei koi famous personality nahi hu, koi khaas takht nahi hai mera aur abhi bhi apni chaap chodni baaki hai mujhe iss duniya pe. Phir aap ye soch rahe honge ki mei itne atmvishvaas se kyu pooch rahi hu ye sawal. Mei chati hu ki aap jaane mujhe. Jab do log ek dusre ko jaan jaate hai toh ek naye aur adbhut rishte ki shuruvat hoti hai. Aase rishte shayaad hi kisi jaan pehchan vale logo se banti hai. Aaj aapne mujhe diya hai ye sobhagye ki mei aapko apne baare mei batau, agli baar, mei bhi aapse aapke baare mei jaana chayungi.

Meine apne baare mei likh kar batana isliye khoob samjha kyunki mujhe likhne ka bahot shok hai. Ye shok kuch naya nahi hai, ek aadat hai. Jab khaayalo ki duniya mei g

um si jaati hun, tabh likhne ka shok farmati hun. Mei dasvi class se theatre kar rahi hun aur Aj bhi, college ke first year tak kar rahi hun. Mujhe theatre karke ye jaane ko pata chala ki hum sabh ke andar kahin na kahin ek ada kaar hai. Hum kahin na kahin acting karte hai aur apni bhavnao ko chupate hai. Meine bahot se street plays kiye hai aur chote stage plays kiye hai. Stage se utar kar mei yeh koshish karti hu ki apne andar ki ada kaara ko chodh ke apne saache bhavnao ko dikhau.

Mujhe kitaabe padhne ka bahot chow hai. Mei jahan bhi jaati hun, mere paas ek kitaab jarur hoti hai. Mere dost mujhe aksar bolte hai ki kyu naa mei apne ghar mei ek library khol lu, kyunki meri kitabbo ki collection 200 books se bhi jyaada hai.

Meine vaise toh abhi Law ek profession ki tarah chuna hai, jo ek paanch saal ka course hai, par mera background commerce ka hai. Mei 10vi kaksha se Marketing aur content writing ki jobs kar rahi hu. Abh mere pita ji ka kitna prahav hai mujhpe isse ye pata chalta hai, unhone ne mujhe hamesha se mehnat karna sikhaya hai.

Mere baare mei ek aur cheez jaani bahot jaruri hai aapko, mei bore bahot jaldi ho jaati hu, isliye mei hamesha apne aap ko kisi na kisi kaam se bandh ke rakhti hun.

Aaj ke liye, mere baare mei itna hi… Aasha karti hu ki aapko mei itni pasand aai hu ki aap mujhse bheth karna chayenge, taki agar agli baar mei aapse ye sawal karu “Kya tum mujhe jaante ho?” toh aapka jawaab ho “HAAN!”

Peace,

Muskan 💗💗💗

Your Travel Bucket List

Travelling is on the bucket list of most people. But, what is a travel bucket list? Well, it is for people who have “Travel” in bold in their bucket list, and just visiting a few countries won’t do them any good. Travel junkies don’t necessarily like to find places that are out of the ordinary but enjoy getting out of their environment and experience the lust of the new environment. Travel junkies often find themselves in uncomfortable and strange situations but they end up being great stories to tell later. They are social beings and quickly adapt to situations. They possess great personalities and quickly become the star conversationalists.

As mentioned above, your travel bucket list needn’t be filled with never-seen-before places. It can include places like museums and art galleries or food gallis (many exist in Delhi). You don’t need to empty your pockets to satiate your travel urge. Just so a quick google search with “Places to see in [YOUR CITY NAME]” and you’ll find plenty of places to spend your evenings. Plan your budget beforehand and carry loose change if travelling to see local places or you might end up stranded if there is no change with anybody. List down the places that you want to visit, and make plans in the morning so that the whole of the day can be utilized in the experience and there is no hurry to rush back home.

Girls, make sure to carry some protection against attackers.

Don’t be afraid to include more people in your travel expeditions because it is well said that “the more, the merrier”. Choose people who share the same enthusiasm as you for travel, they might as well be strangers.

Your Bucket List makes for the quality of life you live and, including travel in it will make it very interesting.

Peace,
Muskan 💗💗💗

Being me, believing in me

                

This is a poem by Sakshi ( Muskan Narang) that was written in the stress of knowing the result of her 10^th grade exams. She writes it when she realises that the world may not give her the chance to grow, but she promises to grow within herself, a great personality and a passionate and beautiful soul.
Peace,

Voices trap me, and words make noise.

And suddenly, my hands aren’t big enough to cover my ears.

I drown in my melancholy while faces smile at me.

Is it the room getting bigger or I getting smaller?

Guilty, imprisoned, and helpless I feel in this pitch black room and your filthy hearts aren’t helping one bit.

My tongue doesn’t recognise the food anymore and my eyes loose it’s sleep and my eyes go blind to all colours and abstracts.And  faces show no emotion except traces of disgust.

I curl myself up in a ball of sadness and empty hope, that the future holds something more.

Something more than what people tell and expect me to do, maybe something more I want to do...

My wrinkled lips show a brief smile but then sorrow takes its doom ,as i feel in my every nerve, that how the society looks at you.

I bury my head in my hands, but not a drop falls out of my eyes, as I know I

am not what the society defines but what my imagination allows.

The smile returns its curve and i step out the room, only to realise that it is i that makes the rules.

Muskan 💗💗💗