Hope

Who are you?

A crooked line on a face

A wrenched heart

Or a broken soul

Who are you?

You are just pieces

Pieces of hatred

Spewed here and there

You are the black

You are the blood

You are the Pause

But still

You are just pieces

I am the whole

I am the white

I am the mild

I am the wild

I am the heart

I am the start

That never ends

I am the whole

I am human

I am hope

You can cover me black

You can spew me mad

You can cut me piece by piece

You can tear me bad

But I am still whole

For every piece that falls

Millions will grow

For everything that’s black

Millions will glow

In white and gold

For every word of hate

There will be million words of faith

For every act of terror

There will be million hugs

and million smiles

For every bomb

There will be million first cries

For every bomb

There will be million first smiles

For every bomb

There will be million first steps

For every sunset

There will always be a dawn

For every Pause
There will always be a hope!

(C) Juztamom 2015

Shared with  Real Toads Corey's Prompt: Heart's Desire and
 BlogAdda's initiative Blogging for Peace

Freedom

As a new mother few years back I was faced with a lot of questions. What is good and what is not good for my little bundle of joy? There were so many contradictory advice. One of the most contradictory advice I received was regarding the use of the diapers. I was told babies are extremely uncomfortable in diapers and cloth nappies are best for them. As a mother I wanted to make sure that my baby was comfortable but I was also tired with the never ending change of cloth nappies. So I used disposable diapers as often as I could. But deep in my heart I knew I was not comfortable about it.

Flash-forward to the birth of my second born, this time again I started with cloth nappies but it was extremely difficult to go ahead with it. I had a toddler and an infant and I realised I needed to make an informed decision. So I decided to buy a lot of different brands of diapers available in the market. I started with what I had earlier used. It was a popular brand but the baby looked uncomfortable. As a mother I was not at ease with it. With trial and error I finally found the perfect diaper for my younger one. He was at his active best when I started using Pampers Premium care pants. He is one of the naughtiest babies I have ever seen. So it was like a boon that the diaper allowed him to be his free self. It is one of the softest diapers. My little one looks completely at ease in it. In fact, I think the diaper has only encouraged his naughtiness. There is nothing that binds him down.

One of his greatest love is being in water. He loves splashing around and is always ready to jump in his bath tub. A few weeks back, we had few guests over for dinner. He was dressed up in a really cute formal suit, looking like a miniature Pierce Brosnan and that’s when he decided to have a pool party with his friends. Out went the suit and every piece of clothing from his body. His friends followed and within a few minute our house was full of naked and screaming toddlers running around and demanding for a pool party. We finally gave in to the demand and the kids ended up having a lot of fun at the dinner cum pool party (Yes, they refused to come out and ate in the washroom) That night will remain as one of the fondest memories of him growing up.

My little one is free spirited and I am glad I have been able to nurture his spirits and let him evolve.

"This post is a part of the Pampers #SoftestForBabySkin activity at BlogAdda" 

Why?

She could feel the black, the cracks and the pores on her skin through which the smoke was coming out. She could smell the fire that was engulfing her whole being, inch by inch, part by part. She could hear the laughter coming from the other room; the laughs were filling her soul and were coming out as her muffled screams. She closed her eyes as her whole life ran in front of her, from her loving childhood, to her marriage, to her monstrous husband and in-laws and a tear fell through her eye, just one tear drop as she spoke her last words.

“Mom, why did you send me back?”

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

Hundredth

Her brows are sweaty and she is licking her lips. She looks nervous I can sense it. She moves her hand in her hair and then slowly brings it down to her neck and adjusts her necklace. I ogle at her long slender neck with defined bones. I can’t take my eyes from it. I am in love again. Yes she is it. She will be my hundredth. How can I not take her? How do I let her go?

 I was tempted to cross the road, grab her in my arms, touch her soft face, slowly caress her neck and then break it, twist it, choke her till she stops breathing. Just the thought of that neck slowly dying in my hand is giving me a high that no drugs have ever given me. I start crossing the road, whistling to myself. I still can’t believe my luck of finding her alone in this deserted lane.

Suddenly a car stops in front of her and she hops in it too quickly. Even before I could blink the car starts moving.

I thought of running after it but then stop and smile. This has become more fun now. It was far too easy like this. There is no bigger rush than the chase of the prey. I write down the number of the car in my mobile and whistle loudly again.

“I hope you enjoy your last night sweetheart. I know I will”

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

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

Her Dream Wedding?

Her hands are covered in henna

and her face is decorated with a shy smile

but her heart is disobeying her

She wants to be happy

She promised herself

It will be alright

It will be her fairytale night

Her wedding,

Like everyone said will be her re-birth

Her dreams

Like everyone said were just dirt

They why all of a sudden

She was unsure

They why all of a sudden

She didn’t feel happy anymore

Why after ages her heart was not with her

Then why all of a sudden 

everything was blur

She was asked to meet her taker

After he said yes

After she was informed

After it was officially announced to the world

But she couldn’t make herself go

May be she wanted to delay the future

May be she wanted it to remain a dreamy dream

Her refusal was appreciated

Her being coy was expected

She didn’t ask anything

No one told her anything

Not knowing is better

She thought to herself again and again

She survived the prying eyes of future relatives

She nodded at all right places as it was imperative

She cooked and she walked

She looked down and never talked

She did everything right

As right as the word right

As correct as the word correct

 

Then why all of  a sudden

She feels trapped

She feels choked

This is the eve of her fairytale wedding

Why even after people calling her outside

She couldn’t open the door

It was too late to do anything

Was it too late to do anything?

May be she can’t run away

If she goes out she will be forced into the marriage

But is there only one door to go out?

May be not

She closes her eyes and chooses the door

That will let her fly

That will let her be free

Forever!!

 This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda. We give out themes for creative writing each weekend for Indian bloggers

Image credit here

Lost and found

In your eyes

In your gaze

In your nights

In your days

I am lost and found

Hands in your hands

Each breath with your breath

Hooked to you

Look through you

In your touch

In your nudge

I am lost and found

Your words are my hunger

Your dreams my thirst

Your wonders are my wonders

Your arms my world

In your arms

In your dreams

In your wonders

And in your gleams

I am lost and found

Your journey my drive

Your life my life

Your music my jive

You win I survive

In your drives

In your Jives

In your loses

And in your strives

I am lost and found

I live with you

I die with you

I am alive in your life

I am dead in your deaths

I am as you as; you are

You are as me as; I am

We are lost and found in You and Me

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

Those were the best days of my life

Those were the best days of my life

Singing along with you; getting drenched in the rains

Yelling out loud and being insane

Splash of water; sprinkles of mud

Whistle of the Romeo and wink of the stud;

Who cared; who looked

We didn’t we were hooked

to the flight and to the daze

to the freedom; to the days;

The best days of my life

Yummy fritters and runny chai

Bite after bite and sigh after sigh

Making circles from the vapour

Making boats from the paper

Sitting at the stall for hours

Rechristening the stall as ours

Gaping at the roads; looking at the rains

Days spent at our adda

The best days of my life

Loud giggles at the boys;

Hidden snigger and the joys

Of white looks and paled faces

Shocked eyes and red gazes

Sprinting with you across town

Dancing with you like a clown

The Shoos and Shaas of aunties at the movies

Getting a lecture about being a girl and our duties

O how shameful you are a girl!

Showing them the tongue and taking a royal twirl

The carefree days beyond gender, age and hurls

The best days of my life

Running at you after each hiccup

Hiding behind you at each stickup

Crying on your shoulders over each mark

Picking up a fight for each remark

Against you, against me, against us

You being the calm one and me a big fuss

Holding your hands; tugging at your fingers

Memories of growing up.. still lingers

Etched in my heart forever and ever

Hoping to go back;

Hopping and going back

In those unforgettable days

Those were the best days of my life

(C) Juztamom 2013

Dedicated to my sweet sweet sis...my best friend. Wish you a happy friendship day.I wish I had better photographs of us together!!!

   

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