Aps- The Muddled Utopian

If it matters so much, why do you wait till you lose it forever? if you value it so much, why don't you show efforts, why not assure it with kind words and actions? why take it for granted, why to push it till it breaks apart? Don't you know, Once the plant dries up, it'll never bloom again no matter how much you water it! The biggest mistake we make is we think we have time! Why not tend to it while it's still alive, why not to heal the hurt with love? Why wait till it dies? Every bond is work. Hard work. It needs communication, care, compromise, and chemistry. Like a seesaw, it will have its ups and downs, someday it'll feel like hell, someday it'll feel like heaven, But learn to plant a garden where it burns and a forest will grow. Embrace the demons and fall in love with madness. Because we all love to sign up for adventures and then why get scared to take leaps? There is no room for a middle way in relationships, scream, shout and le...

Away from the rustle of the city, in faraway lands lies her nostalgia. She remembers the landscape like the back of her hand, those thorny bushes, those earthy roads, those clean water lakes. Every passing moment is a symphony of onomatopoeia. There is something there which sounds like her calling, like a scrapbook filled with cutouts of the best adventures. The air smells like stories and the soil beneath her feet holds her, like a dad teaching his little one to walk. Here there are no races to be won, no struggles for survival, on timelines to meet, no chores to be completed, no need to take care of anyone, you are taken care of here. You are groomed, you bloom. These fields are alive, they have conquered monsters of time, like Santa Claus on Christmas, they only know to gift smiles. The girl in the fennel field finds her wonder here, that sparkle in her eyes, that curiosity on her words, that love in her heart. Like fireflies on a moonless night, her exi...

Today the air smelled like mom’s rotis, When I walked towards the cafeteria… My heart just jumped out of its rib cage And flew home… Mom was running around the house, Her anklets were ringing the sweetest melodies, Dad was telling endless stories, And my monkey brother was playing his pranks… I am glad heart is a wild creature with wings, Who knows no bondage Who is still a kid that loves to play in puddles… I never thought when I was leaving home, I was leaving it forever… But like they say, home is where your heart is And my heart is tied to that little veranda, Where the grass is always green, rain falls like pixie dust there is always warm words, hugs and food when you come home And everything is taken care of… We all wandered as adventurers And we have achieved what we always dreamed off And we are working towards what we want to achieve But what keeps that fire alive is that feeling called “HOME”, I am carrying my “HOME” in m...

She loved open books, because she was one. She spoke like the letters of that novel, which created a picture that felt like mine. She looked like a picture of that color book which had all the shades of emotions. She never loved endings, so she always wrote new beginnings She knew time is not hers, so she lived every moment whatever she got.. Her eyes searched people who loved open books and were ready to share.. Closed books scared her as they had given her scars, they were the reasons of her nightmares and they took away seasons of stars. But she had learned her ways, books helped. She now choose the books to read, write and share. The chapters that can be book marked and the chapters that can be skipped... The chapters that can be closed to heart and the chapters that had to be torn apart... The Chapters that meant adventure and the ones that meant just time-pass. She is a happy reader now and a selective too...

From the shadows of the dark,  He emerged riding a storm...  He was in love with the Asphalt,  Never together yet never apart... Riding his ride like a hawk,  he conquered the wind and my heart...  He always celebrated broken bones and bloody knuckles,  His scares and elbow patches always told me stories of his adventures of unseen lands...  The sound of motor, The wizz of wheels has now become part of my heartbeats like his... Rider galloped in to unknown glory, with unknown destinations to conquer..