We at one point have fought for things that we believed would make us happy.
We have believed that things that are not ours, will make us happy when they are.
We have fallen into battles that aren’t even ours, to become happy.
And when the storm settles, we ask ourselves was it worth it?
We bruise ourselves, we cut ourselves, we punish ourselves. Our wounds from the battle wouldn’t heal for years. They are going to stay, even if they heal there are going to be battle scars, a lot of them. I’m no warrior, but on second thought, aren’t we all? We fight through the day to get where we want to be, we think about it all the time and it sure does hurt. The pain at times isn’t bare-able. We think about the times when we would win and it is such a dream.
At start we could see the goal, it is right there, that glowing light, yes, that’s it! Years into battle, we are lost in a mine field.. The light disappeared and right now you don’t even know where you stand. You quit. Or sometime you don’t, you just fight long enough to become a light yourself. We mould ourselves, shape ourselves, make ourselves, we become the best versions of ourselves and when we reach our goals and break our shells get out of our cocoon; people say, you’ve changed a lot.
People we did everything for, people we wished would look up on us, people we wished would stay with us forever, end up saying you’ve changed a lot. As much as we love what we are, we hate ourselves for what we did. We fought with all our might to get something probably we din’t even want ourselves at first. Sometimes we believe it is only the tough path to get where we want to be, couldn’t the easy way be right? You know…
Before we start our fight,
Before we are even close to our goal,
Before people start asking it,
Before we regret and ask everyone,
Couldn’t we for once ask ourselves,
Is it worth it?
P.S. You could have a bath for life, and still smell like fish. It’s not worth it. Start skipping baths today.
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It’s always been easier to stay shut than to talk.
It’s always been easier to talk than to do.
It’s always been easier to do than to feel.
I met a girl the other day and she said, “You know Ronak?”
I said, “Yes.”
“Have you seen him with how deeply he loves his girl? I want someone to love me like that.”
We wish things in our lives were the way they are in someone else’s, it’s because the lust we have for successful things. In a fast pacing world everyone likes to walk through shortcuts, and we are always searching for them, rather than trying to run on the actual path.
Love is not something where you go, Happy!!! Happy!! Happy! Happy. We fought. Sad! Sad!! Sad!!! We fought again. I don’t think it’s working, we need to break up. It’s about mending things that went wrong, it about understanding why something happened and about feeling the pain.
It probably isn’t about showing love actively, it’s about the little things you do for them and they don’t even know about. It’s like changing their favorite pen’s refill and never mentioning it. Believe me even though you think they don’t notice it, real love does.
It probably isn’t about going for movies, to dinner, or planning dates, to spend quality time. You could sit together for hours without saying a word and have quality time. You could be lazing around at home the entire day ad spend quality time.
It probably isn’t about going to clubs and getting high before you get on the dance floor, it is about looking into their eyes and getting high, before you share an earphone and dance on the street, you may not even need music.
It probably isn’t all about the moves you can do on EDM, it is like that heart felt dance on the dhol.
It probably is only about facing everything together and not just the happy part of the relationship before you split. It probably is all about making time from your 24-hour busy schedule, on days where you can’t catch enough sleep and looking at them once in the entire day. Or probably it is only about making that call before they go to sleep and asking how their day was.
I guess it’s not about flooding the social media with your pictures and talking smooth. Probably Ronak doesn’t love his girl, or probably he does, it just doesn’t show it in his eyes. However, I love the way she looks at them and I’m gonna let it stay.
P.S. All the characters are fictional and do not have anything to do with people of any caste, race, sex or tribe. Also, no animals were harmed during the making of this post.
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Why do we fall in love, when it is said to be one of the strongest emotions?
Why do we fall in love, when it is said to be element that makes someone?
Why do we fall in love, and not rise in love?
We as people we are, do not know a lot of things about the world we live in. Each time we wish to learn something new, we develop ourselves enough to understand it, to learn it, to memorize and use it. We make ourselves, better, we develop, we rise to a level higher than we were. Love is the most beautiful thing and we should rise, not fall. Or maybe the love we seek is weaker than the love we have and we need to fall for it?
When we meet someone, when our eyes meet for the first time, we let our guard down. We let them into our deepest thoughts, we let them into our lives, maybe it’s our guard that falls.
You look at them, angry, frustrated, pissed and for the first time in your life, instead of thinking “who cares?” you go and ask them, “what’s wrong”, you let you ego down, maybe ego is what falls.
You have priorities, you have plans you have a life beyond them, they probably know everything about, but they don’t know you are going to visit a friend or going to a party, a movie, or a cosplay and they call you up and say “meet me”, and even though it was important you cancel on it and go to meet them, maybe it’s other priorities that fall.
No matter how good your day was, there could be one little thing that makes you angry and you are completely raged up, smashing that little tin can on our way home. You unlock the door and the give you a hug, and you melt, it brings back every single memory you had and you fall in love with her all over again, maybe it’s our anger that falls.
You need to fall, to rise. When you fall so deeply, there will always be a hand to pull you up, and when they do, you are going to stand taller than ever before. That’s the power of love, and I guess that is why you need to fall in it. Fall in love harder and rise stronger, don’t waste it on someone you believe is worth it.
Only after the fall of a grapevine, you see a raisin. Sorry.
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What is grey?
A pigment? Between black and white?
Or a definition of dull, nondescript, or it’s just being faceless?
We live in world where everyone wants to be renowned and eminent or enclosed and unknown. No one wants to be a commoner; no one wants to be grey. It’s always black and white.
I live in a city, no one knows where I am, what I do, who am I? Sometimes, even I don’t. If I knock at my own door and shout, “Hey! It’s me!” then at the receiving end, I’m definitely going to ask, “Me who?”. We all have a definition, we have fixated answers to the questions everyone asks us.
“Who are you?”
“What do you do?”
“Where do you live?”
“What do you wish to be?”
We were taught these in the school, right? It was a 5 marks question! We had to mug it up, there was no way around. It was going to decide if I’m going to get an A+ or a B , it was going to decide if I’m ever going to get into one of those Ivy League School, it was my entry pass to NASA, it was going to decide if I was ever going to touch the moon. Or was it? If it was then why did we never ask it to ourselves.
I’m in my room a 4-way closed wall surrounds me when I’m writing this, door locked, it post-midnight, I’m enclosed. I’m dark.
I got this idea when I was sitting with my bud at the beach, where the cold breeze hit my face. I’m bright
But it’s the 3rd time I’m writing it, to check for mistakes (there are many), because I love my readers and this is for them. I’m grey.
I either eat super-healthy foods, salad and boiled eggs and hit the gym or I’m stuffing pizzas in my mouth laying in my pajamas, there’s no in between, but I attended a friend’s marriage yesterday, and had curry rice, am I grey?
I’m either awake till sunrise, or wake with sunrise, but some days I have different schedules, am I grey?
I don’t wait at all, anywhere; or wait till it’s time, but I hurry when I’m late, am I grey?
I dress like a drug addict, or for a party, but I have pairs of jeans and casual T-shirts, am I grey?
I’m in the wild, or in this room, but I attend college, where I learned to right, am I grey?
I don’t meet people for days, or I’m out partying, but I reply to texts of people who need me, am I grey?
I read an entire bookshelf or entire syllabus in a day, or not a word, but I have an exam I need to prepare for, and I’m writing, am I grey?
I’ve loved with my entire soul, and hated with every gut in me, but I’ve never hated someone I love, and have come to love people I used to hate, am I grey?
We are all grey, neither us is black or white. We wish to be sometimes, and we are at times, but you can’t be dark forever, and brightness fades too. What we do? How we do it? When we do it? Are things that define us. Nothing matters more than what you are and what you wish to be. Nothing. But to get to where you want to be, you have to go through society, and it is grey.
We are black, we are white, we are Black and White, we are Grey.
Remember, you need to go through 50 before yo become white or black.
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I thought you were My Sunshine,
But you were a black cloud,
A thunder storm that never faded,
For it rained and thundered, the storm was loud.
I though you were My Sunshine,
But you were just a “why?”,
You came in my life, like a cyclone,
And just like the monsoon skies, the clouds cry.
I thought you were My Sunshine,
But I’m the pirate and you were just a scar,
I thought you’d stay with me,
But you just walked away, as far as a star.
I though you were My Sunshine,
But you were just a phase, of us together,
All you said was bye,
What happened to those promises of forever?
I thought you were My Sunshine,
But you were my poems and my rhyme,
All you turned out to be was a page,
That I wish decays with time,
I thought you were My Sunshine,
But I curse, I swear, because each day I’ve died,
Waiting for you to come back,
Be again by my side,
I thought you were My Sunshine,
You still are, and forever will be,
My heart still beats your name,
And I’ll try, and I’ll fight, for ‘we’.
For I know you are My Sunshine,
And I killed myself in search of you,
You are now afraid of me,
I’m dead, but have only loved you.
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We all have that one shot at love, like a sniper, whoosh and pop! You hit it right and the chain of perfect shots begin, your entire worlds seems a new place, your contact is restricted to just one person on this planet and yet it’s all you’ve ever wanted, you believe in magic, you believe that they were sent by smurfs or angels or might be both, who knows! And you don’t mind staying up late because you could to talk to them and you don’t care what the world has to say about your new food habits, you finally realize how it is to smell heaven, and you no longer need reasons to smile. But what if one of those bullets in the perfect chain doesn’t hit the bull’s eye, what if doesn’t even land on target, it only goes whoosh, no pop?
“We are not meant to be.” “It’s over.” “I don’t want to hurt you, I don’t know how to say this…” “We are done.” “…I’m breaking up with you.” It was just one shot, the wind was way too strong, you could have done nothing, and everything you built up, everything you thought you’d do, you’d be, everything goes downhill, and then you ask yourself, was it all worth it? You have ego clashes and you don’t talk with each other, you don’t want to see their face, kill them if you may, suffering, pain, agony fuel up your anger, rage and pride, you know what’s inside, you know what you have to do, but well your pain looks like your pride.
In this strongly connected world, why do our hearts fail to connect? We have become so superficial that we may have began to believe what’s outside is inside. Maybe the one you were with wasn’t “the one” and it was just a part of a mutual attraction, or maybe the one you just broke up, or has dumped you and you lost hope of getting them back, in phrases of was it meant to be? Why do we stick to someone, saying “She’s the one”, when all you’ve ever thought about them is what under their clothes rather what’s inside them, why do we say to ourselves, life goes on, when we said , “My life? Well she’s sleeping at her place.”
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Buy my Work The First Crush at 13 Here(International)and Here(India)
You may have had a crush on someone
You have had a girlfriend
You may have fallen in Love before
But to how many of you, it happened at the age of 13?
Welcome to The First Crush, a story about tow 13 year olds, a tale about a nerd who thought gossip and girls are a waste of time – Raman and the princess of his nightmares – Ananya. The first love of Raman’s best friend – Ronak – ignites the spark of love in his life. But coins turn when Ananya shifts a thousand miles away. What happens when some other guy wants Ananya at all costs? When Ananya already has someone in her heart? And what other surprise does life have in box for them?
Made you nostalgic? Then come and connect with me and keep yourselves updated about the launch and other events
Also you can connect with me on Facebook, Twitter, Google+
You can buy it on Amazon.com and Amazon.in
It’s been quite a while, you have grown up and everything has changed, except that 5 second army march in your stooped evening walk. Heads up, back erect, chest broad and walking stiff like a rock, just when you see her face – your First Crush.
Her face just flashed, right here, on this screen? Her name echoed in your ears? Her fragrance struck you? And what is it that I hear? Is it your heart pounding?
First Crush is always the deepest, and you still just remember her, its been years right? You are still thinking about her. No matter what, you are still ready to go for another try with her. Probably you screwed your first chance, and you begged for another one. She never gave you a chance though, and after a while you gave up. You thought it would be easy to forget her. You thought out of sight is out of mind. You thought you’ll never look back, and moved on with life, but there she is, on your mind right now.
Let me bring you a story about two young fellows, Raman and Ananya. These two thirteen year olds, never thought life was going to change for them, forever. Love at first sight was something that they never believe in, love when they got close; still didn’t exist. How they ever met? How the two opposites attracted? Will they ever get together? And what surprises wait for them?
A story that will take you to the memories of your first love, a story of love, romance and intimacy. A story yet untold.
Hi, I’m Sunain Singh Banga, Author of The First Crush at 13.
Find me on Facebook, Twitter and Google+
Book launched on 22nd April, worldwide.
Available on Amazon.in, Amazon.com
It had been 2 years, 8 months and 11 minutes of dating this super cute, super-hot, super sexy and super excited girl who never let a chance to surprise me. It has been long time, yet it feels like weeks, we made a million memories, but everything for me still starts and ends at her almond brown eyes that say so much more than what words ever could. They glisten under the moon, and sparkle under the sun; they are deep when she’s low and deeper when she’s jolly and remarkable, when she looks back in mine. Her lips, the perfect shade of pink, her hair brunette, and her hands, so soft; that even silk might just get jealous and when she smiles; God! The whole world stares at her, and yes, the best part, she stares at me, she’s mine. The first time I saw her, I never thought she would be so important to me, I never had the slightest tinge of feelings for her, and now, all I know about love is one word, one name, one person. “We – the Perfect Couple”… well everyone said so.
Do like and share
Support my movement #makeherlisten Here.
Find my other blogs Here
Follow me for more updates Here
Buy my Work The First Crush at 13 Here(International)and Here(India)
And connect with me on Facebook, Twitter (@SunainBanga), Google+
She was sitting on the bed, her legs stretched. I crawled on the bed and went close to her and rested my head on her lap. I didn’t face her, but her feet.
“Are you okay?” She asked. I nodded and held her tightly.
“Okay” She said and started stroking my hair.
Not that she didn’t know something was wrong, but that I wasn’t going to say a word. She knew the more she pushed for, the angrier I’ll get. For this was not the first time, and wasn’t going to be the last either. She had seen this side of me earlier, and well, that was the first time, she saw me at my worst. We don’t talk about it. For both of us know, it isn’t to be bought up. I tossed and turned a million times, but she just kept stroking my hair.
I got up, looked into her eyes, and then rested my back on the pillow beside her. I pulled her close, she didn’t resist, instead rested her head on my chest. I saw her fall asleep, and wished to see her till the end of time
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