Thought Bubbles

This too, shall pass! A raging fear or a flicker of faith, A desperation to hold on to, Or an overwhelming urge to let go; The need to cling on to the memories, Or for once, to just forget and move on; It's time slipping past your fingers  As the darkness closes in, Or hope of a new dawn; The tides ebb and flow,  And yet, they wait for none. There's always a win,  There's always a loss,  Still, the game goes on. Despite the highs and lows,  And everything in between,  We hold on, we let go,  This too, shall pass!  -Pavithra Seshadri

I can't sleep peacefully anymore,  Because every day ends with a reminder  That you are not here.  Yesterday, I dreamt of you, You were sitting beside me,  In a room full of people.  I was hugging you,  With my head against your shoulder.  Warm, light as a feather,  I held you in my arms.  I whispered something in your ear, And I heard you laugh, As lines of laughter hid your wrinkles, You seemed to grow younger,  And I saw your beautiful smile once again. I looked up,  No one else in the dream room  Seemed to realise your presence.  Doubt crept into my mind,  How could you be present here,  When you didn't exist anymore? When I looked again,  You had disappeared.  There one minute, gone the next,  Just like on that fateful day.  I woke up,  Arms empty, heart heavy,  And eyes filled with tears. - Pavithra Seshadri  Image courtesy: Google Images

"Post!"  Every month, my thrilled ten-year-old self would glide down the stairs two-at-a-time, beckoned by this call. The Post-Man, standing at the entrance to the quarters that we then lived in, would hold the monthly issue of the childrens' magazine I had subscribed to, with a beaming smile on his face.  "Thank you uncle!" I'd exclaim gleefully, as I receive it from him.  He'd smile affectionately at me, as he stood there organising the remaining bundle. Being the curious child I was, I'd peep into the stack of posts, trying to find any which were addressed to my friends or to the people in the same block. If I happened to spot any of them from the said category, I'd offer to deliver them on his behalf.  The Post-Man uncle would then with a grateful smile, hand over the respective posts to me, as he sped on his way with a, "Thank you very much, Paapa!" I would then proceed to diligently face the task ahead of me, (which was honestly j...

The sun was shining bright, as she sat watching him. Him, with his moon-gray eyes that sparkled when mirth touched them. Him, with a smile so brilliant that put the sun to shame. His honey colored hair shone as the rays fell on them, the curls burning gold. His pointy, elfish ears, held so many secrets that her lips had whispered from back during their mischievous childhood pranks. She met him when she was five, her neighbour’s naughty son. What first blossomed was enmity, which slowly ripened into friendship. As they grew, the bond grew even stronger. Always there for each other, they were the best of friends. Inside jokes, laughter, secrets, pranks, affection and love, their relationship grew.   She watched him now, his long, straight nose that would crinkle when he smiles, as his cheeks sank into those beautiful black holes named dimples. His legs, that would chase her, as they raced along the roads, bickering and shouting, fighting to reach the finish line. His arms...

This is a fairy tale with Angels and Demons, Where the beauty falls for the beast, Where poles kiss each other, As the moon blooms in the East. Hear, the sound of love, As the oceans caress the skies, As the winds ruffle the leaves, With a contented sigh. Here, the souls sing in harmony, Unceasing, night and day alike. The melody flows on beautifully, As the clock continues to strike. Time ceases to exist, As their eyes meet. Lost in each other's depths, The hearts continue to beat.                                      -Pavithra Seshadri Image Courtesy : Google Images

                                                    It was the day of  English viva-voce exam for the final years at school. All of us were frantically practising our speeches on the given topics at the last minute. The fact that the score would count for our public exam adding stress to our tensed minds.  The teacher walked in and took her seat. One by one, she began calling us to present our speeches in the order of our assigned roll numbers.  I remember feeling extremely nervous and unprepared. I sat fidgeting in my seat as I kept reciting my presentation over and over in my head. Shortly, I was called to deliver my speech.  I walked to the front of the classroom, and the teacher asked me to begin, with her pen poised to mark my score on the sheet, and a gentle smile on her face. I drew in a deep breath and face...