They are dotted, symmetric, parallel, and patterned. But however petite and insignificant these balconies may look, there's a story behind each of them.
With open curtains, and two blue mattresses, number nine would sit for hours looking at the sunset, reminiscing with her partner about the time they were young while sipping multiple cups of chai and marigold.
Meanwhile, number ten loves his rocking chair, some country music, and lots of cigarettes. As much as I detest this person for smoking, I love him for his guitar. Oh, what a mellifluous voice he has got.
Number fourteen just got married, and they have a fancy setting on their balcony with beautiful fairy lights and swinging sofas whereas number fifteen likes to keep it lowkey with ****** hanging on the balcony grill and sadar bahars and money plants to fill the empty corners.
On Sundays, when the clock strikes five, number seven would gear up for a karaoke contest with his family. Oh, it is a complete joy to watch them.
I am number eleven. I love my house plants and can be mostly found with a cup of cappuccino and a camera. I don't like being on the balcony much, so I spend hours sitting at my bay window reading or doing assignments after assignment. And on some days, I observe these dotted, symmetric, parallel, and patterned balconies.
Aug 10, 2023
Aug 10, 2023 at 7:24 AM UTC
My head still hits the bed,
Constantly figuring my hurt,
The source of my pain,
And the path to new love.
I still go to sleep,
Praying for beautiful dreams,
Dreams that aren't about you,
And dreams that come true.
I still wait anxiously,
For that magical day,
When I wake up,
Keeping your thoughts at bay.
I still get lost,
In the middle of my day,
Tired of figuring out,
How long you will stay.
I still had hope,
Until the day you broke,
My heart in million pieces,
In just one stroke.
And now,
It's time to let go.
It's time to let you go.
Apr 9, 2020
Apr 9, 2020 at 7:50 AM UTC
Shivering under my blanket,
Thinking out loud,
The concept of us,
The concept of you,
The concept of I.
We, look like a sunflower.
Symmetric, bright and warm.
Reaching out to the Sun
And outgrowing along.
You, look like a peyote
Amidst the dreary sands.
Lonely, drained and dull
Searching for its water,
Deeper in its own land.
I, look like a rainy day
Drenching both,
With life, love and hope.
Promising clear skies
And sunny days to cope.
Little did I know,
Peyote needs no rain.
And a sunflower,
Never grows,
From the seeds of peyote,
Such is the pain.
Did the efforts
Of the rain
Just go in vain?
The rains
Still drench,
Selflessly,
Still Searching,
For someone worthy.
Worthy is who?
Not us, not you.
Never us, never you.
Jan 3, 2020
Jan 3, 2020 at 3:58 PM UTC
Twenty Twenty
The air is new again,
Singing the love songs,
Announcing a fresh start,
But following the norms.
My love is the sky,
My lover is the moon,
My hope is fireworks,
And I'm all the stars.
Oh! Don't leave so soon.
I see you moon,
From every perspective,
Only to realise,
That perfection is deceptive.
Behold and hold,
My petals and my thorns,
Beauty is imperfections,
The reality I've known for long.
Kiss me again,
Heal my broken parts,
Allow me to fix you,
And promise me
Never to be apart.
You give me motive,
You give me direction,
You keep me going,
Despite all rejections.
We have our lives,
Different from another,
But one day of vulnerability,
two nights of heart to heart,
three words of magic,
And the four letters of l o v e
Is the reason we're still together.
Jan 1, 2020
Jan 1, 2020 at 9:44 AM UTC
What do i seek?
What more do I ask for?
What is it that's left?
To feel, to say, to listen and to bear.
To give is to take,
To trust is to wait,
To attach is to not depend
And to love is to not demand.
The only equations I understand.
But why is it
That I deviate
And I'm unable to take a stand?
But why is it
That my weakness
Makes you my need beforehand?
But why is it
That I want the mountains
And give in to the islands?
But why is it
That I always need time
And it slips away like sand?
But why is it
That I want to build a house
And still need my empty land?
But why is it
That I want to rewrite stories
And not give a second chance?
Oct 31, 2019
Oct 31, 2019 at 2:36 AM UTC
He beholds
Then holds
First my thorns
Then my petals
Peels it off
Slowly
Smells, licks, and tastes
Feels it
How naked I am
With discontinuity
In the form of thorns
Pure and placid
Flawed and fabulous
That's my soul
And his love for me
Deep, fiery, hot, and
PASSIONATE
Jun 14, 2018
Jun 14, 2018 at 10:09 AM UTC
I didn't sleep for three nights
For I could imagine what it will be like
To escape to the woods and hide
You see, it was 3 in the morning , an overnight journey by road.
While everyone was asleep in the bus, I was wide awake
The sight was silent and scary
I was looking at the night sky vary
Vary with pieces of land passing by
And each time I heaved with a sigh
I could see some constants
The moon and the stars and the beauty of the dark
I could see the emerging light reaching out to me from far behind the clouds
I waited for that one light streak
It clarified my doubts and illuminated the land I see
I wanted to fly and dance and see the light streak grow
Grow into lightening and thunderstorm where the stars were visible no more
I could see the moon dimming its glow
There, I realised that it was for the streaks to shine.
It taught me love and sacrifice
I could see the raindrops falling upon my window pane, slipping and changing directions and turning into beautiful patterns of nature.
A graffiti wall was all I could see
I touched it, felt it and yearned to embrace it.
Meanwhile my brain was joining all the dots with imaginary lines
Every part of me wanted to read the message it delivered.
I rested my head upon the window pane, and watched everything passing me by.
My eyes capturing every flashing moment, my brain making a picture necklace.
Now that's the movie I play on loop while letting it out.
With all the ecstatic songs I hum, I see myself on top of the world
I feel a breeze of positive vibes and my hair sway in pride.
I look up at the stars and smile wide
They twinkle with the same rhythm as my heart beat and the only reason why I love long drives
I could see myself blending in with the Universe and felt how it loved me like a daughter.
Everything was beautiful like grey and mauve in water.
- SWASTI JAIN
Jul 14, 2017
Jul 14, 2017 at 12:02 PM UTC
3.2.1Go!
The race has begun
It demands to run
Run until death.
Some crawl
Some walk
And some run.
They run not to win
They run to beat others.
Those who crawl
Are called learners
Those who run
Are called winners
Losing has no scope.
Some lost hope
Some lost way
Some lost zeal
And some are in disgrace.
Who are they?
What are they doing?
They are walking dead.
This race is life
The track has stages
It transforms people
Many are not meant
To be a part of it
Society has norms
Exclusion is the punishment
What separates those people?
They are walking dead.
Zeal, passion, love and war
Mere words in dictionary
With no emotions left
They are walking dead.
May 13, 2017
May 13, 2017 at 2:18 PM UTC
There was a flower, blossoming on the shoreline. Beholding the serenity of the seas and criticising the rise and fall of the indomitable tides.
It swayed in the balmy air and loathed the dusty storms.
It adored the sun's radiance and mourned the moon's norms.
It extolled the aesthetics and execrated the wrongs.
It denied the nectar but appreciated the honeycomb.
There was a peyote, living in the dreary sands. Mesmerized by the great dunes, standing like a tomb.
Relishing the scanty rains with much aplomb.
It grows its roots in the search of water, many call it a coxcomb.
Such is the folk, unaware of the real beauty for so long!
- Swasti Jain
Feb 27, 2017
Feb 27, 2017 at 11:02 AM UTC
" Poltroon " she cried,
While her knuckles were white with rage.
Perturbed, she was while her father passed away.
Solitude, she chose while earthlings left her dejected, like a stray.
Erratic, were those times when she decided to unravel the intricate stories of life and not get bewrayed.
Lost, she was in the absolute beauty of the cosmos waiting for someone at the bay.
Soon, she realized that a lifeboat would never come her way.
" You're a stalwart , get up and find your own way ".
Much did she know, rest she deciphered.
And found herself flying in the sky of aplomb, like a mockinjay!
- Swasti Jain
Feb 18, 2017
Feb 18, 2017 at 1:05 PM UTC