tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8777425584887544302024-03-05T12:00:03.435+05:30Shadowy Dreams<b> by Chhaya </b> <br>
I am a loner who is never lonely...Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.comBlogger55125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-20281733230326115982010-09-08T13:43:00.001+05:302010-09-08T13:45:49.264+05:30Forget Me NotHey Guys,First of all, let me thank you all for the mails (via the mail widget and direct). I know I have been rather AWOL.Well, life is running at a rate faster than I can keep up with and I need all my energy to make the most of it. Also, I don’t want to blog with only half my heart in it. Moreover, I would be SOOO unfair if I just keep writing without visiting you (I am really caught up right Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-91006118758996451902010-05-13T12:52:00.003+05:302010-05-13T12:56:41.282+05:30The DarklingsAngry, the wind howledI chose the frosty moonbeam, overthe raging fire, blessed by hellmy own twin flameBanished in death,I wandered the weathered landChained, cursed by your loveas dark as my sinful soulMy heart denounced metormented, by your betrayed eyesGuilt ruled by the day,reigned, mauled me by the nightLonely, I treaded the moorparalysed with the avenging iceDevil didn’t claim me, my Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com42tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-15945099130610969692010-05-06T19:19:00.006+05:302010-05-06T19:59:02.887+05:30Summer NightThe cotton t-shirt sticks to my back like a second skin. The heat is almost unbearable. Slightest hint of a breeze gives me goose bumps... making me feel alive, even for that fraction of a second. Like love. Ever been in love with someone who didn’t even know that you existed? Waiting for that one look, waiting for that one time when they would actually have a notion about your true feelings?Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com34tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-68748747087636354502010-04-19T19:50:00.006+05:302010-04-19T20:20:56.006+05:30Tick-Tock"The Forensic tests have confirmed that the decomposed body found in the ravines is indeed of the renowned industrialist William Spencer. He was reported missing almost a year ago"Danny turned off the TV and leaned back into his chair. A frown marred his usual good looks at the moment.'There is no way they can prove it.' He told himself the thousandth time. He had made sure that William didn’t Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com68tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-6880873455328326752010-04-12T12:36:00.005+05:302010-04-12T13:29:13.326+05:30If I could, I would - II
Click here to read the Part - 1
"You are early today. "
He says, not exactly meaning it to be a question.
It takes all my will power in that split second, to stop myself from replying with a "It’s none of your business, is it?"
I can almost see Ma shaking her head in disapproval, annoyed to see her daughter acting so rudely.
Instead, I go on auto-pilot. My eyes meet his, I smile, nod and Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com49tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-77516994037027957702010-03-23T20:03:00.003+05:302010-04-12T13:10:55.781+05:30If I could, I wouldCan you go back to the day when the life was going through the biggest change… yet it all used to make sense?Can dreams be broken? Do they ever shatter, in pieces as fragile as the virgin snow? Do they melt away when you try to hold them on your fingers?Do you ever know how the day is going to end when you leave home in the morning? Do you ever really know someone?One word, one breath – one drop Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com61tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-69528261203355812242010-03-17T12:43:00.004+05:302010-03-17T18:29:10.234+05:30The Hurt Locker : A ReviewIt’s an honour to review The Hurt Locker as the first at this blog.Before I get going with it, I just want to say that I am not an authority on Cinema or art of any kind. I am just someone who is giving her opinion. And the opinion is my own PoV. You may not agree with my interpretation of the movie. I have a distinct like/dislike when it comes to art, so be ready for some unexpected reviews in Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com32tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-10059182863035808432010-03-10T19:15:00.005+05:302010-03-10T20:17:07.828+05:30The Fallen I don’t like men wearing gloves. White gloves. Especially not when they are standing in a perfect row, near a freshly dug hole.It has always meant a death. Mostly, someone not much older than me. Sometimes younger.I watch their unreadable faces. I watch their full ceremonial uniforms, rifles held high, perfectly clasped between the palms, ready to be raised... and then arch downwards, with the Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com54tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-39871007644325153912010-03-02T17:52:00.006+05:302010-03-02T21:48:20.830+05:30Adventure/Comedy : Under 100 wordsWe must escape.But how? I think it’s our fate to be trodden by him.And live in these stinking holes?Least he could do is to let us bath every day. We are nothing but disposable slaves for him.Bath, you say! I think that is the only time we can escape. The time when we are pushed from washing chambersI am scared. errrrr, it’s not so bad here.Ok. You stay here. I won’t!A few days later“Honey! Have Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com44tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-13404586332259455662010-02-03T12:08:00.006+05:302010-02-03T14:30:46.909+05:30Tragedy: Under 100 wordsThe knife is sinking in her chest like she is made of butter.Blood splashing on me with each flailing beat of her heart, in rhythm with the clock. She always said that there has never been another man in her life.SplashIt’s not so warm now.I read the letter yet again.Mrs. Patel,Congratulations on your wedding.Your child has already been adopted.We can’t disclose any other information...And she Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com53tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-779616386154638662010-01-27T13:44:00.010+05:302010-01-28T17:38:06.907+05:3010 things about me – HonestlyThis is the toughest possible tag for me. I mean, me telling 10 things about myself! Errrr.... it goes against all my instincts. I find it rather narcissist to talk about myself.. It would have been bit easier if there were set Qs... I almost never get tagged.. and this one is from sweet Tanu, so now I gotta rant.. so here I go.The Rules – 1. You must thank the person who gave you the tag/award Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com43tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-50953085656341965212010-01-18T16:55:00.000+05:302010-01-27T09:00:29.001+05:30The Last BusStanding barefoot.Barren, huge crossroad.They say it stops here,the bus you are on.Clutching, the doll you gave meon my birthday the year before.I try not to stain it –for my hands arebleeding from the sores.knees skinned to the bones shake a littlecruel, lonely it was –the road from home.Biting my lips, to stall the painburying my face in the doll –there is still that smell of youthe fragrance Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-61978691630875686612010-01-12T11:08:00.004+05:302010-01-13T09:39:39.026+05:30I It flows in the bloodthe soul, withinRestlessness.A thirst.The need to move onwherever, life may lead.The moments of loveand the things unsaid.Whispers under thestarlit sky,lazy mornings, tenderstill, I can’t stayWandering into thedesert, endless.Swimming to the deeper sea.Away from the faces,voices andthe sepia memoriesKeeping the vows,the promises,I cherish.Yet move on, I mustbreaking the Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com54tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-13159328855349028482010-01-11T10:52:00.009+05:302010-01-11T11:59:21.447+05:30Vengeance: Under 100 wordsHave you ever watched helplessly as your family and friends get massacred?Right in front of your eyes? I did.I was just a baby... I couldn’t do anything..He killed them all. Gassed them.Beat them to pulp.I don’t know how I survived. Perhaps you are stronger when you are young.I wasn’t going to forgive him.I had to keep the honour of my tribe... There was a tiny column in the local newspaper afterChhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com40tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-49376724578604755702010-01-05T19:02:00.005+05:302010-01-05T21:22:41.113+05:30Romance : under 100 words“Grandpa! Grandpa! ”“Yes Kiddo! ”“Are you going to work? ”“No Kiddo! I am retired now! ”“Then why are you shaving? ”He laughs.“Dad only shaves when he is going to office. ”Grandpa finishes shaving and picks me up. I touch his face. He has a few nicks. Must be his shaking hands.“You don’t have to shave now Grandpa! You don’t go to work so no one will mind! ”“Your Grandma will, little one. ”He Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com57tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-4094045416953529552009-12-31T20:10:00.006+05:302010-01-05T17:02:37.656+05:30Mothers and Sons Mac hated his birthday. Especially for the last 8 years. He dreaded these visits.'Don’t I give her enough money? Don’t I pay for those AC rooms and 24 hour attendant service? For God’s sake, she has a TV with cable in her room and so many people of her own age group. Why do I have to go to see her on my Birthday?''If I have to clock in those suffocating 10 minutes there then I better get it doneChhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com59tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-23524320887340256092009-12-18T20:08:00.005+05:302009-12-18T20:20:16.662+05:30Indemnity"We are very sorry for your loss, Mrs Varghese. "Sam’s colleagues were leaving.Lisa nodded, wrapped in the mourning blacks. The house was still filled with concerned neighbours and friends. They had just returned from the cemetery after burying him. Her husband. The only man she had ever fallen in love with. They were married for 18 years...He was dead. Brutally murdered. "Tsk tsk... I feel so Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com56tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-81136796003271303162009-12-07T18:45:00.006+05:302009-12-07T19:16:20.313+05:30SistersShe watches the little one,looking out of the window.The worn out doll,clutched tight.Too young to understand, yetdeep within, does she know?Her heart aches more than her arms,cradling the kid all night long.Having to grow up in a moment,her own childhood gone.The tears remain unshed,for ever and more."Can you call mommy again?She should be home by now."Innocent eyes look up to her.Trusting the Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com49tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-38200894740008519912009-12-07T08:43:00.006+05:302009-12-07T11:24:01.776+05:30the Month of the DepartedYes, I have always had this habit of vanishing without a warning. I am like this even in my offline life. Sticking to one thing and one place has always been a struggle for me. Strings scare me. Visible or otherwise. Still, if you wanna know why I have been inactive for almost a month, then here are a few reasons I can think of – First of all, work pressure was simply mind-numbing. I was trying Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-46310072956554754932009-11-17T17:02:00.006+05:302009-11-17T20:10:42.238+05:30EcstasyYes, I know, I have been really irregular. But no, this time I wasn’t travelling or recharging my batteries by going off the grid. As some of you know, workload has been really brutal. There are days when I have to manage with 2-3 hours of sleep (with dreams full of dancing numbers and data :D).Last couple of day were different.12th Nov, I was trying to stay afloat, juggling a million things and Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com33tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-57228614595840385092009-11-04T15:35:00.006+05:302009-11-04T19:29:25.892+05:30TemptationsPeople do strange things when they are away from home. She was no exception. The girl hated sugar or milk with her coffee, but there she was, in a strange country, sitting with her feet tucked in, trying hard to keep warm with a steaming mug held in her hands.She had roamed around the tiny kitchen, preparing it. Milk and sugar. Her mind, wandering. As usual.Coffee... not the way she liked Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com72tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-26151845046247383052009-10-07T17:02:00.006+05:302010-01-08T18:00:07.512+05:30The NightmareOne more day..One more smile..I live in that place, betweendawn and the daybreak.Trying desperately,to stall the time.Stolen moments..too fragile for dreams.Wrapped in your arms,watching you sleepShy, the rain giggles,caressed bythe lovelorn wind.I blush, watchingthe lines of your face..and the smile on your lips.Your heartbeats,talking to my fingertips.Shadows rustle,monsters insane.Pulling me Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com56tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-66727642808574700432009-10-01T20:45:00.013+05:302010-01-08T17:57:29.478+05:30Just FriendsThe smiles we sharedand some tears unshed.´Just friends´with a shrug of shoulders,Always, we claimed.My heart never stopped,when you held me close.It was bliss.You were my home.The extension of my soul.Your thoughts nevermade my nights sleepless.Far away, in the darkness,endless conversations.Eloquent silence.Losing you to the senseof wrong and right,isn’t the end of the world.Then why to meit Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com42tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-75017090630765684172009-09-25T19:29:00.014+05:302010-01-08T17:50:23.635+05:30The CowardDon’t take it away from methis armour I havemade painstakinglythrough the nights so lonelywith every moment I waitedfor someone like youNow that you are hereI am scared oflosing my heartto the one made for meYou are too sacredto be touched.I am too greedyto let go.I don’t know whyI need this distanceam I scared of gettingmy heart broken?or is it your soulI want to spare?walking away from Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com46tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-52079934704549150982009-09-14T12:12:00.007+05:302009-09-14T13:24:03.382+05:30The Ladakh Diary – Starting with the End!It was the longest vacation of my life. Two weeks of huffing and puffing – Ooh! and Aaahs! – Oops and ‘Lord have mercy’. The scariest roads I had ever been on, the most beautiful places I had ever been to. It’s not possible to describe it in words, even for a so called poet/writer like me. Still, I will try my best to paint a few pictures and share those I clicked during the tour. Why with the Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com48