“Don’t explain. People only hear what they want to hear.”
— Paulo Coelho
“Don’t be afraid of the dark, my child. Light has a source. It can be snuffed out. But darkness has no source. It just exists. This darkness is a path to That, which has no source: God”
Amish, Sita the warrior of Mithila
“A man becomes a Mahadev, only when he fights for good. A Mahadev is not born from his mother’s womb. He is forged in the heat of battle, when he wages a war to destroy evil.”
Shiv, The immortals of Meluha (Amish Tripathi)
People talk of colour of eyes all the time, as if that is of significance; light to be epitome of elegance and dark not so much, yet his would look beautiful in any shade for, it’s not the colour that makes his different - it’s the way they speak the utmost truth even when he despises it, it’s the way they bloom when he reads his favourite poetry, it’s the way glisten when he tries to find answer everyone’s curiousities, it’s the way they become silvery when his chest feels heavy with the burden of life. They form a poem that I read in an instant and comprehend with full depth. His eyes are fascinatingly my favourite because they are my home.
Ataphya, from a book I’ll write one day.
“You can’t live your life for other people. You’ve got to do what’s right for you, even if it hurts some people you love.”
Nicholas Sparks, The Notebook
this is something that i want to talk about because it scares and enrages me. when, i post my writings here i expect a certain quantity of readers to enjoy what i write; i post my snippets, poems, proses because this is a way to let out my emotions and connect with like-minded people; i post my writings hoping against hope that people will respect it when i say that my work is mine and you cannot post it elsewhere or use it anywhere without giving me credit. people need to understand that plagiarism is wrong, i create what i do and i am grateful you like what i write but i do not allow you to steal my work, not for your assignments, not for your competitions, not anything. i am glad that some people are inspired by what i write and can create another different set of writings which do not include the exact quoted phrases that i use.
stop bullshitting. respect my work or fuck off and leave me alone with my writings. they belong to me and even though they are for your consumption, you do not eat them.
Pan Flag - Bharat Edition.
Demisexual moodboard - Bharat Edition.
Imagine reading in the October breeze, while sitting in the balcony with a shawl. Summer has passed us by, and winter appears to be knocking the door. You pick up the cup and take the first sip of the tea from the table next to you, and you realise it’s just way you want it. Life is mundane; life is beautiful.
“Vanity and pride are different things, though the words are often used synonymously. A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us.”
Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice
“I think… if it is true that there are as many minds as there are heads, then there are as many kinds of love as there are hearts.”
Leo Tolstoy (Anna Karenina)
“Being perfect is an emotion, not a state. Some days I want to feel perfect, while other days I don’t want to feel anything at all.”
“I feel homesick for a place that doesn’t exist anymore. My brain knows it but my heart is still stubborn and keeps trying to find it.”
“We don’t express ourselves, we don’t say everything because of the usual excuse of "there will always be a next time”, but the truth is, we don’t always have a next time. Sometimes, we just have regrets and a life that doesn’t seem like ours anymore, while other times we have small moments- the moments where we look at our loved ones and find ourselves lucky to have been connected to them. Why don’t we use those moments to express ourselves? Why keep it inside? Won’t one rather be at peace knowing that the person lost knew what they meant to us?“
Ataphya from a book I’ll write someday
“Love was like standing in the sunshine on a freezing winter day to them. The feeling of slowly melting away and soaking it all in with your eyes closed, the warmth of sunlight bringing comfort from the cold wind blowing.”
Ataphya from a book I’ll write, Someday.
“One day, your shoulds won’t seem so heavy, and you’ll be able to go through the day without feeling like you’re being punched in the gut and continuously wondering about what ifs. You will heal one day, and your mind will be a peaceful place to be. You won’t attempt to escape one day. YOU WILL MAKE IT THROUGH, ONE DAY. ”
“My soul, I believe, is right now like a sunflower in the dark, patiently waiting for the sun to rise.”
Ataphya, from a book I’ll write someday
“Until I feared I would lose it, I never loved to read. One does not love breathing.”
Jean Louise Finch, To kill a mockingbird (1960)
Imagine, wearing a classic sabhyasachi outfit and standing in the Mandir of a Rajputana Mahal, the room filled with fragrance of agarbatti and flowers in your hand, sunshine is coming through the jharokas with cool breeze. You open your eyes only to realise your love has been looking at you, standing right next to you. You smile and close your eyes. Life is mundane. Ataphya
Imagine, walking around in a Mandir or Gurudwara with your love, only to swirl around and find that he/they/she had been holding on to one end of your duppatta the whole time, as you were completing circles. He holds it up to remind you of the fourth circle (parikrama) and you find yourself smiling ear-to-ear. Life is mundane.
Shershaah (2021) Dir. Vishnuvardhan
Credits to Martyr Captain Batra who held on to the other end of his fiancée’s dupatta in Mansa Devi.
Imagine, it’s the 1960s winter and you’re at a European train station, reading a book while waiting for your train to arrive. Snow is all around and the heaters at the platform are keeping you cozy. You take a sip of your coffee and keep your book back in your purse just as the train makes it way through the heavy snow towards the platform. Life is mundane.
One day, when this is all over I hope to find myself. The one version of myself that I lost to life. She lives in me, all day everyday but we don’t seem to come across each other. She seems to me like she was a part of a half remembered dream, one that I seem to always have at the back of my head. I hope to find her within myself, to have a talk with her, to compare notes, and to tell her to be what she was meant to be when the time comes.
Imagine, standing in your own kitchen and tasting the dish in progress, to make sure it’s turning out to be in your exact liking. Having books you want in your bookshelf, sitting in your own favourite comfy chair with a mug of tea or coffee. Sleeping in a bed with pillows exactly the way and as many as you want. Blasting your private playlist - metal or classical and humming the tone without even knowing that you are.
Imagine, living without someone to judge you or pry. Not walking on egg shells all day long, not once wanting to run away.
People often confused being alone with being lonely; sometimes, I want to be alone in my own skin, in my small cottage with unread books and baked goods but that doesn’t mean I want to be lonely, who could want that? Being alone, on your own can be healthy for you at times, it can help you become comfortable in your own body; one still has to make sure not to confuse it with loneliness and get comfortable there because once, one does - the stagnation begins, followed by downfall.
You’re maybe happy being alone, you’re not happy being lonely.
bestieee its mukta from the ig gc. here to support and love here as well 💓💓
Lots of love!
YOUR BLOG IS THE EPITOME OF AESTHETIC AND PERFECTION💖💖💖
Also, I'm heartily apologise for spamming your notifications with likes and reposts ..... but in my defence, I'M ADDICTED TO YOUR BLOG😭😭😭
It's just wayyyyyy too pretty!
Have a great day! All the love. S🌻💛
Awwwww! That’s so sweet! I absolutely loved the spam. It makes me feel like I own a little rustic shop of nitbits and people come in here to look and browse ( ◜‿◝ )♡
Imagine, sitting in a cozy bakery with your love; the aroma of coffee and freshly baked breads fill the place just as the steam from coffee is coming up. The rain outside seems to be in perfect rythem with the low fi music and the sound of coffee maker and kitchen on the inside. You catch your love looking at you and you both smile. Life is mundane; life is beautiful.
Imagine, being on the front passenger seat next to your love with eyes half closed, leaning back into the seat. Light rain in the evening is followed by light bursting out of thick clouds making all kinds of shapes that could be up for debates. Life is mundane; life is beautiful.
Anyone else look at a particular balcony, window or a house and imagine their lives there in a micro second as they drive by? - drinking chai in that specific balcony during the early hours of morning with a morning view, sitting by the widow with a book, just dancing around the house with your beloved. Life is mundane, life is beautiful.