I am lying on my bed

But I am floating

I close my eyes

And I am floating

Through the bitter-sweet nectar of the ocean of us

I am floating

I sink sometimes, when the bitterness lies heavy on my chest

But then I rise and we inter-twine

You there, I here — and 1200 kms between us,

Yet we float and inter-twine

Holding our breaths for what’s to face us when we swim to the surface

We inter-twine — almost breathing through each other.

I try to take a leap but sink seeing you far behind

And then you leap & disappear seeing me holding fort at ocean floor

And we follow this dance

Fearful, hopeful, both in parts & often one overwhelming the other,

We dance in the ocean, 1200kms apart.

Are we telling stories through our lives?

Or our lives narrating stories through us?

Are we characters in the novels to be written?

Or writers writing through life?

Are we the narrative?

Or is the narrative flowing through us?

Am I flesh and bones

Or the amorphous voice inside?

Is my narrative yours and your narrative mine?

For we are asteroids that collided

Through space and time.

The next time you waltz (we waltz)

Slow down a little,

Hold me tighter and

Be conscious in the sway of every movement

So that I can remember you well,

We can remember the rhythm of us, ourselves

And tune into it subconsciously,

Less painfully,

And keep dancing,

This time in flesh.

I am sitting on concrete in the clouds high above

Admiring the green, leafy tops of trees

There are these tiny signals guiding the motion of cars

Red, white, black and blue crawling in the well laid out paths.

I am scared and exhausted per usual, ah my safe familiar feelings

Overcompensating my yearning for company is this daily slumber induced by anxiety

These crawling figures are my own dear ones

With some of them I share pieces of my life, with others the general bond of humanity

I am them and they are me

Like a stream flowing through shores carrying dust and nutrition

There is longing in motion

And demise in rest

And disquieting comfort only in everlasting anxiety.

Neither euphoria,

Nor bliss,

Or contentment,

I yearn to feel safe —

Find a cozy little place to hide.

Promise me to not let your senses give away when you get exasperated

Neither through the roll of your eyes nor curt sentences

Just wrap me in and

Become my afternoon reverie

Instead of being my midnight slumber.

Image by Elias Sch. from Pixabay

I went to the beach everyday

On the messy sand I lay

I liked the breeze, I liked the blue

The sea invited me to drench me in its hue.

I played, with the water I swayed

But I stayed away.

I went to the beach everyday.

A year — two, three, almost ten

I didn’t still enter in and exclaimed ten! when the sea exasperatingly asked when

I went to the mountains too

But to the sea, I never paid my due.

Years went by in whole

And the sun, growing hotter now, had parched my soul

It had…

Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay

This might seem a little worn, a little out

Maybe even resemble a headache —

Because all I’ve had is sleep but all I haven’t had is sleep as well

When your mind’s a little too foggy and eyes damp and head has missing whereabouts

And your heart’s trembling and the whole being a little dazed

All you feel like doing is writing

Not as covertly as before; disguise is washing away as well

But all you feel like doing is writing

Maybe the flow of words from the tips of my fingers

Will help unwind the contortions of emotions…

I am floating

Like a specter

Around your luminous being

A minute within

An eternity without

My heavy heart travels seamlessly

The sixty seconds leave imprints that last centuries

Yet we touch only subconsciously.


The below is a rant — I’ll try to be scientific and accurate because I am unimaginably critical of myself for being wrong but I’m protecting myself from criticism by accepting first hand above that this is a rant and not an essay or an answer sheet that you have the obligation to grade and please don’t feel that you have the right to do that. Instead if you choose to read my writing below — I, the writer, am putting the obligation on you to keep any negative criticism to yourself. Just the way I think as humans…

What’s currently happening isn’t really a paradox.

We are in the midst of a global pandemic, struggling with public health and harsh economic shutdowns — and stock markets are rising. What’s happening? Aren’t stock markets supposed to be barometers of economies?

Stock markets are interactions between buyers and sellers — so if they rise, we need to understand why are more people buying than selling and vice-a-versa if stock markets are falling. As markets have become globalised and financial instruments have become more complicated, there can be myriad of reasons to understand this behaviour. …

Simran Ahluwalia

Unravelling the poetry of life

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