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Anshula Nema Jan 2017
Remember? Do you?
The verses of the Mahabharata,
Where Draupati begged to let her go,
Where being a wife of the Pandavas made her no different from the unmarried women.

Remember? Do you?
When inside 1 in 10 houses,
A little girl complains to her mum,  
It hurts me in there Maa.

Remember? Do you?
The night,
When a girl lay all naked and battered on the road,
When a friend of her's was as helpless as the lost kid at the course.

Remember? do you?
The nights when people marched with candles in their hands,
The days when we witnessed protests.
Days after days,
Months after months,
Years after years,
Didn't you,
All of you, tried to build us?

The ones who were too small to understand,
The ones who were capable enough to understand,
And the ones who understood what all this actually meant.
From the cheap comments passed
To the guidelines to dress-up,

You filled our heads,
With the thoughts which were never meant to be there.
From all those sad old lines to the new generation trends,
You made us cautious yet scared.
While there were dreams to be accomplished,
And words that were unsaid,
Your efforts to build us,
Made us question our own existence.

With every tantrum and argument we throw,
We have something for you to know, you know,

Caging us won't do us any good,
While letting us live without the not so needed guidelines will do.
Set us free and cage the ones who needs so,
For the day you would realise,
Is merely a *hypothetical concept
you would know.
Anshula Nema Dec 2016
Remember the time,
When you stood right behind me,
Watching me enjoy the limelight.
The time when I acted stupid,
But you brought the right words to my sight.
The time when I refused to work,
But you kept pushing me to do so.
The time when I had given up on myself,
But with those harsh and emotionless lines you made me believe in who I was.
The time when everyone left,
But you stayed.
The time when I kept arguing over wrong statements,
And when you knew how to counter me with the right one.
All this time long,
You stayed and believed.
Maybe we never realised,
Maybe we never knew.
But this world had these two kinds,
Sherlock and Watson.
Each one searching for the other,
Sherlock's searching for Watson,
Watson's searching for Sherlock,
Maybe they are fine alone,
But maybe they are best when together.
Maybe a Sherlock would have never enjoyed the limelight,
Maybe he would have given up on himself way earlier,
Maybe he would have not been he.
But then Watson made it all happen.
Maybe that is how it works.
*Maybe one day we'll find our Sherlock,
Or maybe one day a Watson would find us.
Anshula Nema Nov 2016
Caging her would mean cutting down her wings,
And maybe the world wouldn't care,
Because she is just a girl wishing her dreams will sooner or later come true,
Wishing that the morning she wakes up to is new.
Why is that I suffer this suffering?
Questions the heart to the suffering soul,
Maybe this is the prize you pay for that nature of yours,
Replies the soul with the shivering tone,
Have you ever wondered what made you this way?
Just some handful of habits and the constant thought of helping around.
Maybe all this won't make you stay long for the sooner days to pass along,
Ever wondered what will happen to this dying warmth?
Stay alive and be strong,
For the strom will pass as you go on,
Keep the head high and walk on,
For you'll never be cagged if you keep believing strong.
Anshula Nema Jun 2016
Sitting on the rooftop,
While watching the sun set into the sea,
All I could wonder was what made me me?
Was it the heat of the sun,
Or the soothing feel of the moon?
Was it the bonfire,
Or the icy glaciers?
Was it the soothing breeze,
Or the harsh wind?
Was it the calm sky,
Or the thunder?
Was it the spring mornings,
Or the chilled nights?
Was it the perfect days,
Or the painful nights?
Was it the fun with friends,
Or the lonely times?
Was it the emotions,
Or the emotionless circumstances?
Was it the times I decided to shut people,
Or the times I welcomed them?
Maybe what made me,
Was somewhat like the changing colours of the sky while sunsets,
That is,
Maybe what made me was all of the it,
Maybe I had everything in bits,
Maybe what made me was me,
Me as in,
An emotion on its own,
A feeling on its own,
A world on its own,
A milestone ready to change when achieved.

There were no signs of the sun by then,
But there was moon,
Though I could still feel the presence,
Maybe that was something it wanted to teach,
Even if I am not there,
You could still feel me,
If you know me.

Maybe that is why you and me are
Because at the end it's either you or me,
Not the two combined!
Let's just be us!
Anshula Nema May 2016
If it's love,
Then why is hatred a part of it?
If it's trust,
Then why is denial and lying  a part of it?
If things weren't things,
And people weren't people,
Then what sense did emotions make?
Let me take you to a place,
A place called paradise,
Where the mountains sing choruses,
Where the night dances ballet,
Where the wind has peace,
Where the waterfalls blooms the flowers,
Where you can have a walk in clouds.
But what if I say,
There's no such place,
Would that hurt you a bit?
Trusting was denial,
And loving was hatred,
But dear,
What if, the life you were living was an illusion?
Illusion ready to strike you hard,
Illusion ready to smash you hard,
Illusion ready to make you forget the whole start.
If it was love,
Then hatred was not a part of it,
If it was trust,
Then denial and lying were miles away,
If this wasn't me,
Then maybe I was your illusion, throughout the way.
Anshula Nema Feb 2016
Maybe this was the last time,
That we were together.
Maybe the smile on your face,
Was the last thing I saw.
Maybe the words you spoke,
Were the last thing I would be hearing from you.
Maybe the joke you cracked today,
Was the lamest,
Yet the only thing I would be carrying with me.

Can I get any more of any of it?
Gosh no!
Can all this last forever?
And never end.

So that we could still be together,
So that we could still be us,
So that we could still laugh like we didn't care,
So that we could still crack those silly jokes,
So that we could still be the last benchers,
So that we could still annoy each other,
So that we could still sing those random songs together,
So that we could still be the best team together.

When you were on the edge of failing a test,
And was still smiling,
Was the best part of it.
When PTM's were just like any  regular days!
When scoldings,
were as normal as drinking a glass of water.
When eating your friend's lunch,
Was the best thing to do,
While you brought something you didn't like.
When snatching lunch,
Running all around the class,
And the fight for the last bite was like a war.
When early morning games in the assembly ground,
Was our favourite.
When the ugly fights between the game,
Were just meant to last for a few minutes.
When nicknames were wicked.
When benches had a line drawn on them,
Assuring ones territory.

Those memories,
Those times,
Can't we just freeze it?

So that we could still be the best together,
And look at each other the way we did before,
And still ****** each others lunch,
And run, up and down the beaches,
**And still have the same fun.
It was the best time I could have!
Gonna miss it truly!
Anshula Nema Feb 2016
Dim lights,
Slow music,
The best place to be in,
Was there in your arms.

Eyes were meant to be shut,
Hands were meant to hold,
And words were meant to be silent.
Can it get any more amazing?
Holding on to each other,
And dancing to the mild wild genre,
And smiling like you didn't have any regrets,
Were eyes had a constant connection,
And heartbeats were the only constant rhythm to dance along.

Holding on to you,
And that smile which lit my face,
Had a deep meaning.
Was it that I was happy?
Or was it that you completed me?
Summing up things in my mind,
I smiled again,
This time it was because,
I knew what it was meant to be.

Many had knocked,
Yet, this heart  had opened the door just for you,
Cuz it knew,
That the fuel which was needed for survival was you!
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