What Makes Our Home?

What makes our home...ours?

Our house, the furniture,

The new cutlery or the picture frame

The matching curtain or the uncanny rug

What makes our home..ours?

The games, the fights,

Rock, paper, scissor OR hide and seek

The pile of clothes and the showing of teeth

The laughs the tears

The stories the fears

The collectibles, the memories,

What makes our home...ours?

The handprints on the wall

Or the imprints on our heart

The nicely stacked book case

Or the storybook hiding behind the vase

The tip toe of tiny feet in the afternoon

The shoo the shaa of little voices

Hiding behind the cabinet

Lost in wonderland

Refusing to sleep

The stories, the tickles

The tantrums and the giggles

What makes our home...ours?

Our hands held below the table

The footsie or the remote fight

The stolen hug, the caress,

Goodbyes and welcomes

The late night drives

Or our impromptu  jives

The cold of the night

Or the warmth of the heart

What makes our home...ours

It is you, it is me,

It is us

We are our home

We are our world

Our home is ours because we are together

Seasons will change

Regions will change

Colors will fade

Black will become grey

Grey will become invisible

But hearts bonded for life

Destinies linked for life

This all will remain our miracle

We will remain us

We will make our home..ours forever

(C) Juztamom 2014

I am taking part in the Write tribe Festival of Words and  Day 3 is Free Write Day. To participate or to know more about it please visit here

Musings Of A Not So Confused Gal

What if you have a place which is full of all your favorite things in life?

What if in one plate you could find every food you like? Every taste you love?

What if before consuming it you had no idea how good it could be and then you get addicted?

What if a routine day turns into something extraordinary just by a few lines?

What if a few lines written by someone else becomes your expressions?

What if you could feel the pain of a stranger only by a peep in her world?

What if you could laugh with someone only by a glance at her joy?

What if someone opens a new world to you just by writing a few lines?

All this and many more is what I have found in the blog that I am sharing with you today. The blogger is a good friend, I love her work and I couldn’t think of any other blog to talk about but her’s.

Here’s introducing the musings of a not so confused gal “Pankti Mehta and her blog”

Pankti has a way with words. Words in her world flow magically. You never know when you leave your world and become a part of hers. You don’t feel the journey, you just see the destination. You live her stories.

Mind you some of her stories would break your heart in a thousand pieces. I have cried with her characters. There is a dark side to her as a writer that appeals to me the most. She is a brilliant story teller. Her stories are full of charisma, allure, love, pain and hope.

Let me tell you about the story that I like the most from her work. It is story from a different land “Industrious Land”. Story of Lali a girl from Industrious land and Himank a prince of snooze land. This story will transport you into a different time. I felt a part of it though it is strangely impossible to relate to it, yet the emotions are weaved in such that you won’t notice the strangeness of things. That is what the writer does. She convinces you of something that you could never imagine or dream of.

You can read the full story here.

 Next I would like to share something else that I love from her work. From the story of a strange land to the story of Simmi and Arpit which she is presenting as a series. It is called "For you". I have read few parts of the story and I loved the simplicity of it. Again I ended being a part of the story and could feel Simmi’s confusion and pain. When she was attracted to Arpit, I felt the attraction. When her heart broke, so did mine. I am hoping Simmi finds her solace in the story.

You can read it here.

I earlier spoke about connecting with the dark side of her. Let me share with you few words from a beautiful poem written by her. This is a poem I absolutely love. So much that I remember it by heart.

I am broken but alive,
Living and breathing,
Not cold and dead.
I may be beaten, but still I will fight,
I may yield but still I will stand straight,

I may get hurt but still I will hold my head high.
To defeat me, you will have to kill me,
Until then, I am broken but alive.
Living and breathing.

I leave you munching on these lines and I hope, rather I am sure there is something in her writing that will connect with you. And I am sure you will love her work as much as I do.

And last but not least I am really proud to share with you that Pankti is going to be a published author soon. Her most celebrated work will be soon available in the form of a novella. Something that I am looking forward to quite eagerly.

I am taking part in the Write tribe Festival of Words and this post is linked to Day 2 Blog Love. To participate or to know more about it please visit here

Shadow

I grab my car keys and at a frantic pace run and come out of the main door only to realise that my car is not where I parked it and that shadow is still following me. Suddenly I start feeling very cold and realise that I have no clothes on, that I am completely naked but inspite of that I continue to run towards the main road with a hope that somebody will see me, hear me and hopefully save me from him. As I reach the main road I realise there is a huge commotion on the side, everyone is standing and looking at something familiar. I run towards it and see that it is my car rammed against the tree covered in blood. I try to cover myself with my hands and start screaming, start asking what is happening, who is in my car but no one is looking at me, it’s like they can’t hear me, like I am invisible. 

Suddenly I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn around and see that shadow, a man with no face, a man with only a dark stature and no features. He holds my hand and tells me, this is you inside the car, you are dead. I am your shadow, your karma, everything you owned is gone, everyone you loved is left behind, from this moment on you have only me. He engulfs me and says I am as fair as your actions were and as black as thoughts were which means from this moment on You Are Me.

Image credit here. I am taking part in the Write tribe Festival of Words and the first prompt is 9-Sentence Fiction. To participate or to know more about it please visit here

The Road Less Travelled

What is right for you,

May not be right for me

For what is right for all of you,

May not be right for tiny me

I am tiny but different

You are huge and indifferent

To me and my life,

My life and my choices

You are engrossed in your life,

Drowning in your rules

Pulling me down with your stones

You are what you were supposed to be

Not what you could have been

But

What if I don’t want to be you?

What if I don’t want to be defined?

What if I want to be, what I could be?

What could I be?

I could only know if I travel the road I am not meant to be on

If I take the path unknown

If I scrape the landscape untouched

Only if I take the road not taken,

The road less travelled

(C) Juztamom 2014

Image credit here

Shared with Real toads. Inspired from one of my favorite poems "The Road not taken" by Robert Frost. You can read it here. I hope I did some justice to this wonderful piece.

Deceit

Hidden behind the wall I see a shadow of a man, a man I supposedly love. His hands are around her waist; almost embracing her whole body, caressing slowly, his mouth is hungrily feeding on her mouth with a hunger that I have never experienced with him. My husband of 6 years who once said he would die but touch any other woman, who rarely touched me anymore, is ravishing someone else and then suddenly they turn and I see her face. 

Tears roll down my cheeks and I yell in disbelief as I see my best friend, my life support in my husband’s arms. True to his word my husband has not touched any other woman; he is with "V", my friend, my best friend, my guy friend Vikas!

This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.

Image credit here