Desert Rose

She : What is your take anyway? He : It is one's decision. See my idea is very simple. You being an individual have your own way of seeing things and deciding the right and wrong. She : True. He : I was raised being told that certain things are absolutely evil and till a point I even believed it. When I moved out into the world, I met people who were raised differently. Anything is like that. If you want to do something, do it. Just plain and simple. Not to show anyone or as a burden. But with joy and the feeling of RESPONSIBILITY. She : But what if you do it irresponsibly and hurt a few in the process? He : That is what I am coming to. It isn't easy at all. This is applicable only if you are independent of the action. The moment you engage someone into your freedom, it is your responsibility to ensure the other person is also equally respected and gets to be part of the game in all aspects, simply because it is a choice that was made.   Like i...

Sometimes, the color of life confuses me.  Sometimes life looks black and other times red, like a deep wound. About the color of life, I wonder. It was a fine day. He thought the day would be white – easy, happy and bright. But the call from his love around noon changed the shades of white to more of black and red. She had called him up to say that she was having second thoughts about their relationship. He wasn’t sure if in that precise moment it felt like life took a black or red shade. Why now? Why did she have to tell me now that I purchased such an expensive ring to bind our future together?  He remembered the day they first met. There was not a cloud in the sky. He thought of that as a good omen. But his friend thought it would have been better if it rained when I first met her – the shower being the giver of a brand new life.  He so much wanted that life - rain or shine. He thought of begging her to reconsider?  They spoke. And the ro...

If I believed in magic that’s what I would tell you writing is. 

 Yesterday, on my way to my native, I received an image from my friend and on seeing it on my drop-down notifications, I figured it was a picture of something that she’d written. Even before opening and reading it, I got reminded of a phase where she used to write way more than me and did it well. And the more attractive factor for me, was her ease to write in her mother tongue which still remains a task in my case. As I thought, I realized that I haven’t read much of her writings ever since we left school and there I was - quite a frequent blogger! I read what she wrote. I knew what she meant. Obviously being my closest, I could relate to whatever she was trying to portray. And it got me thinking. The firing of specific synapses;  The chemical cascade that transmutes the scent of a particular perfume into a short story; The fall leaves into rhyming poetry; Your brutal breakup into a n...