मैं और तुम।

देखो! यहां मैं भी हूं, तुम भी हो।
रात के नज़ारे भी हैं, जगमगाते सितारे भी हैं।
हवाओं से बदलते अरमान भी हैं, सपनों का एक मुठ्ठी आसमान भी है।
उसकी नवाजी मुस्कान भी है, कहीं टूटता जहां भी है।
गमों का दरबार भी है, ये ज़िन्दगी गुलज़ार भी है।
देखो! यहां मैं भी हूं, तुम भी हो।
सेहर का रंग भी है, नई उमंग भी है।
राह में धूप की तपिश भी है, ठंडी छांव की कशिश भी है।
दिल को उनकी खवाहिश भी है, दर्द-ए-इश्क़ की नुमाइश भी है।
कुबूल दुआ होने का इंतज़ार भी है, इस पतझड़ में अजब सी बहार भी है।
देखो यहां मैं भी हूं, तुम भी हो।
हां तन्हाई भी है, रुसवाई भी है।
मैं तेरी चाहत भी हूं, हां तेरी राहत भी हूं।
तू मेरी इबादत भी है, हां मेरी आदत भी है।
ये इश्क़ सुकून भी है, हर लम्हा बढ़ता जुनून भी है।
देखो! यहां मैं भी हूं, तुम भी हो।

– उजाला।


My little glass window

A little footstep on the fresh grass ground

Heading towards the unfolding of new leaf around

The dew drops shining pearly white

Or the blue sky adored with child’s red kite

Oh! I look around these colors so bright

Spreading boldly all over my sight

The eyes get mesmerized at one wide glance

Times and more how could you miss such a chance

Why this cage had to became my home to make me feel the freedom out there?

Why this gloom had to climb up to make me feel the smiles out there?

I ponder and ponder,

I look and look at the bounty outside, 

from my little glass window! 


Chapter 1

Darkness consuming her, suddenly, a transformation took place from that darkroom into that small hole, that small dark but deep hole and the floor was vanishing. She fell! Oh, she was sinking into that depthless, bottomless well of darkness. There was no escape! No help! She wanted to cry, but couldn’t as if those cries were frozen inside, she was going down and down, she felt she will die. Suddenly her body reaches the ground, she is now in the land of nowhere she looked around, “where am I?” dark trees, not a single sign of leaves, loose mud covered with brown burnt grasses, no end of this. The heat so scorching as the heat of hundred suns, her blood was drying, her body was burning. She cried at the top of her lungs, but there was no one to hear her.

She got up to run, as she started running her feet suddenly jammed as if she was stuck, she made efforts to move but couldn’t. she was again sinking and sinking deep into that ground. The creepy scum was climbing up her bare body, she tried to shed it off but it grew up again it was like her whole soul was dipped in tar and there were no cleaning agents in this world. Her ears banging up with the noises, noises coming from far away, somewhere far. Noises of laughter, cries, tears, oh! It was killing her she shut her ears but of no uses those noises growing up louder. she yelled suddenly and with full efforts she woke up.

3.27 am the clock beside her bed showed she got up from the bed, her body was perspiring a lot, cold sweat all over her body. She went to the bathroom to wash her face, the cold water as it touched her, producing new sensation of reality of that night far away from that nightmare of hers. She came back and sat on that couch near that big glass window she glanced outside, nothing but a moonlit darkness she glanced at the stars.

It was again one of the dark nights she had witnessed before, nothing new but the pain the fear was still afresh still haunting her and bestowing her those sleepless nights. The pain was successful in drying up her tears, but could have no effect on the fears.

She slept on the couch, until Radhika’s call wake her up at 8.39 am.

At the glance of 8.40 am, “oh fish!” she yelled. She got up clutched the toothbrush, removed her shirt and direct into the shower. The first lecture was at 9.10 am, and she was late. She came back with her hair drenched and her cell phone continuously ringing with Radhika’s call.

8.55 am.

She took that only ironed, black shirt and blue jeans and a pair of clean socks from the cupboard and dressed up. She looked at the clock. 9.01 am. It took her at least ten minutes to reach the college. She was late. She took the hair dryer and started drying her hair in a subtle, quick manner. She took her handbag, grabbed a notebook and rushed. 

She put on the shoes and took a quick look at the round mirror near the door. She glanced at herself, small black eyes, and much smaller eyelashes, round face with her little nose, beige complexion. Those brown curls hanging up to her waist, little pearly water drops falling from those curls, her black shirt covering her curvy figure, her small lips which curved around to give that one-dimpled smiled she’d got. Obviously Neonika wasn’t an epitome of heavenly beauty but, Neonika was pretty in her own way. 

She locked the door and went downstairs. She crossed the road and waited for the bus and glanced at her mobile, 9.10 am and 11 missed rings – Radhu. Certainly, for the first class, it was her bunk. 

 She reached the college at 9.25, the next class was at 9.50 she went to the canteen grabbed a coffee and a sandwich. Her first lecture after the end term vacation. It was Neonika!


You don’t know pain until you are staring at yourself in the mirror, your eyes filled with tears, telling yourself to hold back and be strong. 

That is pain. And the thing about pain is that it demands to be felt….       


Hi! Writing is like much more than just a hobby for me,  its the way I feel alive,  I breathe. And for this whole month of April its like my way of living, my breathes are taken away.  Its been almost four weeks since my last post here.  Things have changed so fast – moving into a new city,  adjusting to a whole different routine,  quite a mess.  

Right now I  am sitting in a dark room, 200  km  away from my home thinking about how last month went! I am away from home for a study course, when I came here, I was welcomed by a whole new lifestyle, full of things but lacking the time for my poor soul to breathe! Busy things,  I really don’t know how my day passes!  Its like dialy you wake up early, go to the  station to catch a train and watch it leave in front of your face! But how long can this separate me from my blog,  my poor soul is not even that poor, it can escape the buzzy bee life for sometime, to breathe.

Only because some scars have healed, doesn’t means that the pain has….

  Beauty of pain is that it makes everything beautiful. Music without pain, writing without pain, art without pain- its like a body without soul,  lifeless. 

I’m not talking about the physical mental pain or pressure but something you feel in your heart,  when its broken into pieces, the harder you try to collect them more it hurts. Pain doesn’t refer to any mental depression  but its something we all have experienced, both the stronger as well as weaker hearts. At some point of life whatever be the reason we have felt it.  

 Pain is not  what makes you feel miserable for a second and then you grab a cold beer and its gone! Pain is a memory that hurts – sometimes,  some places, some people, somethings, the moment you feel somewhere deep down in you has died. Most of  us like to bury it deep inside themselves. This not some mental health column or ways to recover your emotional pain and fears, its about how you feel,  and why you hide it.  Its for those who have this pain. Its not at all that I am telling you that things will never work out and you can never be happy. I am just exploring an emotion.  

Pain is commanding,  demands to be felt. The world says, you felt it in your heart (in the left corner ) but actually it hurts somewhere in the center,  middle of your chest,  so suffocating,  so merciless. The blunder of memories, emotions and outcomes- coming in you head, felt in your chest, heard in the room of your heart and seen in your eyes.  

  You know its like a wound, quite an old one you think its done, you have recovered,  you move on stronger, fight things face life everything good  but alone whenever  you touch it and it still  hurts, you see its still red.  It hurts you, may be not that bad as the first time but it does,  it hurts you. 

You hide it deep inside you, you fear world will mock at you, nothing wrong  about it ’cause it does. We live in a judgemental world, people judge us  and we judge others! If you laugh  then its show off and if you cry your a cry baby! 

Tears are often associated with weakness, we try to bury them deep inside.  But does shutting things inside do any good? Does the pain inside us ceases?   When people you trust upon doesn’t understand you, you’re pain grows.  

 Pain demands understanding, not sympathy. In times like this I don’t look for heavy words of sympathy all I want is one  shoulder to lean on and two ears to listen.

As i said we live in a judgemental world,  according to it the people who are crying and screaming are the only one in pain,  “so bad! “, ” Ah!  miserable” , “poor soul “. 

My tears can set one of the best example of honesty. So honest and loyal that they don’t dare to  come out without my permission…. 

Life is full of colors.  We all have some dark shades, covered deep inside hidden from rest. We can’t know everything about a person, harder we try little it is. The fact is we hurt others  and we get hurted,  attachments lead to expectations and expectations are not always fulfilled. 

We all are probably living in a big-big world,  we have fears, we hide our pain, we suffer in silence. But one thing we should remember.  Pain is inevitable but suffering is optional. 

Letting go is hard but holding on is harder. 


The Handwriting tag! 

This week was a busy one, I had my exams and they are still on! Seems like they’ll never end.  But let it go,  here i found something really awesome,  NewMoonPlan tagged me to this, you better read her blog its adorable,  you’ll love it.  Well to this task, firstly i don’t write very neat!  But the task is fun,  here are my answers –

Oh but firstly the rules-

  • Write your name. 
  • Write your blog’s name.
  • Write something nice. 
  • Write the name of your favorite song, currently. 
  • What are you writing with? 
  • Write a fun fact about yourself. 
  • Write /draw your favourite emoticon. 
  • Write a silly message. 
  • Write to whom are you tagging this. 

I haven’t  written all the names as you can see the page was about to end. So here are the names of  blogs to whom I’m tagging this. 

Guys I am sorry if you’re already into this,  and one more thing its not compulsory to do it but i personally stress do participate.  Its fun!  ☺ 

Every one who reads this can also participate , its open for all. So do try this! 

Till next,  enjoy your freedom and love yourself! 





Red is color of life.

Red is love.

Red is passion.

Red is blood. 

Red is fire. 

Red is danger. 

Red is rage.

Red is blush. 

Red is valentine.

Red is birth.

Red is new beginnings and violent ends. 

Red is feminine.

Red is life.


I woke up early, my gosh my back was aching like hell,  something’s wrong. I went to bathroom and as soon as i pee, i notice the red color on my panties. I got my periods, another month. But the changes they brought to me are more than just biological.

Menstruation -The monthly hormonal roller coaster ride that happens to be  part of every woman’s life, from the very day she reaches her puberty. The day she steps in the threshold of womanhood, now she is ceases to be a child,  but becomes a young woman. Red indeed is the color of womanhood.


You see there are different meanings attached to menstruation to people, to communities, to religions; variety of myths, perceptions. But these communities don’t realize that some of these views ruins somebody’s childhood and future. Even after being a part of so called modern, progressive society full of advocates of women rights and freedom, periods are still considered as a taboo in Indian society! Girls suffer due to the restrictions put upon them, a mental torture that nobody understands.

Here’s an account of an ordinary 14 yrs old girl, living in the progressive Indian society-

“It is a cloudy night,  even the birds aren’t awake, the sound of her swift footsteps is adding to frogs croaking in the nearby pond. She must be fast, she must complete her job before anyone’s awake and watches her. She is washing her clothes that are soaked in her periods stains. She must be fast,  she makes sure that, its done before anyone discovers this, for its a shame.

Today she won’t go to school, even though she wants to attend classes and play with her friends. Today she won’t enter the kitchen as it may ‘pollute’ the kitchen. She can’t go to temple today. She can’t touch the pickle today. Today,  she can’t go outside the four walls of her house for she’s menstruating, she needs to stay there only, like her life has stopped, its all static for today as well as next 5 days of her life. And it happens every months. Because she’s got periods. Because she’s young woman. Her innocent mind curses such a adulthood,  that snatches away numerous such ‘5 days’ from her life. She hates her womanhood. She hates red. “

This is the story of every teenage girl, irrespective of social strata she belongs to. On one hand the society, tells that  she’s a woman now and on other hand same society tells her its a shame and put restrictions on her? How can she enjoy her adulthood if such biased views are attached to feminism.

Menstruation is more than just a hormonal up side down in a girl’s life. Many of them have to leaves their wishes apart, all of their dreams are shattered.  In India, school dropout rate is highest for girls after class 8th. Their dreams to study, to move ahead in life, to be something remains mere dreams due to menstruation, symbol of her feminism. The social perceptions,  family pressure and lack of sensitivity towards periods in schools,  forces many girls to stop their education and leave their dreams apart. Many girls suffer from diseases or even loose their lives due to lack of personal hygiene during menstruation, because of lack of awareness. Periods is something never talked about and due to it lives suffers.

But its not like that only girls from undeveloped sections of society suffers, same restrictions are also put upon the girls of higher classes.

Pain and suffering are independent of the social status one belongs to, the trauma faced, the tears and those mind pricking questions faced, are same for every girl.

I live in a society where my periods are considered a shame, a society that tells me not to cook,  not to pray, not to study, not to play, not to roam, not to touch pickle,  for something that is not at all in my control!

Menstruation is a biological process like respiration, circulation or digestion. You can’t control them or stop them,  they’ll come as they do, but stopping somebody’s life,  ruining somebody’s future is heck of nonsense!


When you think of letter ‘A’ a clear cut picture of a red juicy fruit strikes your temple. When you think of word ‘woman’ the picture formed is quite vivid and interesting. Many of us imagines our mom. The picture vary from person to person. But what i see is “nature”. Nature has the power to create, a power that makes her “mother nature”. Woman is nature,the creator, the source .Woman is red.

She suffers, but this suffering of her couldn’t be put to an end until we as a society, accept menstruation as a part of woman’s life more than just a symbol of her adulthood. It couldn’t be put to en end till we accept Red.

I can’t be denied of freedom, for my vagina is bleeding today! You can’t ruin my day. Its a natural process of life and need not to stop my life.

You tell her to be red, but never accept her as red, this is where the problem lies. And due to this we are tortured.

Accept RED.