tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8777425584887544302011-12-02T20:34:21.355+05:30<b> by Chhaya </b> <br> I am a loner who is never lonely...Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.comBlogger551100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-20281733230326115982010-09-08T13:43:00.001+05:302010-09-08T13:45:49.264+05:30

Hey 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+05:30

Angry, 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.com43tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-15945099130610969692010-05-06T19:19:00.006+05:302010-05-06T19:59:02.887+05:30

The 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.com35tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-68748747087636354502010-04-19T19:50:00.006+05:302010-04-19T20:20:56.006+05:30

"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.com69tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-6880873455328326752010-04-12T12:36:00.005+05:302010-04-12T13:29:13.326+05:30

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.com50tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-77516994037027957702010-03-23T20:03:00.003+05:302010-04-12T13:10:55.781+05:30

Can 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.com63tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-69528261203355812242010-03-17T12:43:00.004+05:302010-03-17T18:29:10.234+05:30

It’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.com33tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-10059182863035808432010-03-10T19:15:00.005+05:302010-03-10T20:17:07.828+05:30

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+05:30

We 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.com45tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-13404586332259455662010-02-03T12:08:00.006+05:302010-02-03T14:30:46.909+05:30

The 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.com54tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-779616386154638662010-01-27T13:44:00.010+05:302010-01-28T17:38:06.907+05:30

This 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.com44tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-50953085656341965212010-01-18T16:55:00.000+05:302010-01-27T09:00:29.001+05:30

Standing 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.com29tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-61978691630875686612010-01-12T11:08:00.004+05:302010-01-13T09:39:39.026+05:30

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+05:30

Have 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 after

Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com41tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-49376724578604755702010-01-05T19:02:00.005+05:302010-01-05T21:22:41.113+05:30

“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+05:30

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 done

Chhayahttp://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+05:30

"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.com57tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-81136796003271303162009-12-07T18:45:00.006+05:302009-12-07T19:16:20.313+05:30

She 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+05:30

Yes, 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+05:30

Yes, 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.com34tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-57228614595840385092009-11-04T15:35:00.006+05:302009-11-04T19:29:25.892+05:30

People 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+05:30

One 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+05:30

The 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+05:30

Don’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+05:30

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.com48tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-59832403043967757862009-08-20T14:25:00.008+05:302009-08-20T15:24:04.276+05:30

Okay.. so my last poem was a dud ... agreed. The story behind it is – someone reminded me of the fact that I was only writing about three topics..... so, I tried writing about the things I don’t exactly feel.. hence the disaster.Psst Psst...what I am trying to say is – Blame Him! Not Me!Atonement was close to my heart but The Glass Window was a faked pain. I guess that is even worse than faked

Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-21162178857136142022009-08-18T20:55:00.010+05:302009-08-19T11:58:01.924+05:30

Children of the streetdance in the first rain,Screaming with delight.Barefoot and half naked. Surrounded with the comfort,of money and fame..I steal greedy glances throughthe impersonal window frame.Safety of Grandma’s arms andthe beauty of her weathered face -I am trying to remember,fighting hard to forget. Trapped in the addictive -golden coffin of success,I live my deathin tiny instalments.©

Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com31tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-88482876152876211582009-08-13T19:48:00.011+05:302009-08-17T12:05:41.217+05:30

If you have followed my blog during last (almost) 2 years then you may have noticed that I am not very regular. I tend to vanish for weeks, sometimes months. The problem is – I find it really difficult to open up in front of others. No, I am not afraid of talking to strangers.There have been times when I have walked up to a complete stranger and asked – “hey, from where did you buy that T-shirt”.

Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com69tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-12299487002054344932009-08-09T21:18:00.012+05:302010-01-08T17:47:24.954+05:30

Two decades and more,I have carried this pain.The weight of expectationsThe carcasses of my wishes slainHow much am I supposed to bear?How much am I to change?Why can’t I just be a freak?Why must I wear a pretty face?The agony is unbearableThe stigma of knowing too muchToo young to be trustedToo old to be ignoredThey try to ‘fix me’,“It’s for your own good”, I hearThen why do I smell it,the

Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com38tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-57175796086303969182009-07-08T09:50:00.016+05:302010-01-08T17:43:47.586+05:30

She was found by the highway,dumped like a rag .Bloodied and mauled.Stripped and flayed.Bile rises to the throats,they count her wounds.But who will pick up the pieces..of her dismembered soul?Candy wrapper in her hair..and dead dreams in the vacant eyes"Where was my dad last night?" - they ask"Why didn’t he hear my cries?"Flashbulbs scream..and the headlines are relayed.Kinder than the world,the

Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com38tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-84215747229739834432009-06-29T09:08:00.006+05:302010-01-08T23:14:46.299+05:30

New Delhi, evening of a random day in the month of August, a few years backWhat gets you through a day? Work? Or the wait for the moment when you will be let off to go home to someone who would be waiting for you? Or someone you would wait for.Have you ever waited for the work hours to be over just so that you can enjoy the time it takes you to reach the place you sleep at?I must leave. Those

Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-49770638276739232222009-06-23T14:37:00.004+05:302009-08-20T13:26:07.815+05:30

New Delhi, a random day in the month of August, a few years backCan 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?

Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-49841028435724874762009-05-22T11:59:00.006+05:302010-01-08T23:10:32.144+05:30

It was the storm of the decade. The sky almost as dark as the devil’s soul, lit up every few seconds in brutal shapes made by the deafening, blinding lightening. It wasn’t even 3 o’clock in the evening but the sun was totally drowned and the very air looked inky. The desert lived up to its name. Rushing water washing away the sandy soil, leaving the proud rocks naked and vulnerable. It could have

Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-73610036642551894302009-05-20T12:38:00.003+05:302009-05-20T12:53:26.555+05:30

if you’re tagged DO IT.if you’re not tagged DO IT.Does your Facebook password have to do with a boy?I have a face and I have too many books, but never in the same wordBig or small purses?Purse!!! egads!!!! Do you enjoy drama?ZzzzzzzzDid you dress up on Halloween?do I need to!! ;) wont that be overkill?Do you call anybody by their last name?Hmmm, used to... only one person.hope he is rotting in

Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-39428940117952882652009-05-12T09:02:00.002+05:302009-05-12T16:51:14.214+05:30

Which one is worse, being betrayed... or being betrayed by your own intellect that lured you into believing the shadows in the first place?PS: I will be starting a story here very soon.. the line above is kinda part of that ritual you have to go through before you let the characters flow...please feel free to answer that question...lovechhaya

Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-60747060456873546852009-05-09T22:06:00.003+05:302010-01-08T17:39:36.332+05:30

Counting eternitiesa moment a time,waiting for the daywhen you’ll be mine.Searching for the momentpurest of all,beauty of the nightsparkle of the dawn.Warmth of your breathsmelting my soulkilling the demonsmaking me wholeI’ll live the dreams andthe stories untold.Life will be perfectI’ll be home.© 2009 by Chhaya. All rights reservedPS: the image is googled

Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-47045468841492806202009-01-28T22:13:00.005+05:302010-01-08T17:32:09.240+05:30

Why can’t you see?The wreck, that’s meWaiting foreverFor your loveSomething surrealThat’s never to beIt hurts so badThe pain that’s meAnd I am tiredof false smilesIn front of youOnly thing that you can seeI wanna succumb toThe storm that’s meAnd don’t even wishto fix this painSoiled dreamsBroken mythsAnd I will burn itYour shadow that‘s meback to the truthThe harsh realityNothing is foreverNot

Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-37552674209570994452008-12-26T22:55:00.003+05:302010-01-08T17:20:05.407+05:30

I feel the rhythm,or is it your heart beatingsweet touch of an angelgentle waltz of your breaths on my skinits the breeze that made me shiveror was it the fear in my heart?I close my eyes, lean on youwait for you to pull me closewait for the warmth of your armsbloody battles, I fought for youlet my armour dropunder the silver moon,there is nothing to hide me – to protectthe clock strikes midnight

Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com27tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-55953765663437424932008-11-12T12:03:00.003+05:302008-11-12T16:40:16.663+05:30

It starts with a touchWarm, lazy winter noonYou are near, somewherein my heart, in my soulMy eyes feel heavy,the dream so temptingFeeling your breath on my eyesTears unshed, ecstasy of sufferingHolding back,wishes untamedWaiting for the yearsA moment a dayMy fingers, feel your smileand my heart feels your painYou wish I would ask even though,I know you can’t stayCounting, clinging on to the

Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-39258232654927241992008-11-03T10:50:00.003+05:302010-01-08T16:58:08.291+05:30

She denounces,tempting shadows.Burning scalding skyParched lips, mocking eyesBreaths come in gaspsendless, frozen desertShe stands tall carryingtombstone too heavyGaping wounds she ignoresStubborn, she smilesTime, destiny, morals, fateGreedy vultures - salivateShe wears her sinswith love and prideHeaven flashes its wrathHelpless, Longinus criesShe opens her armsclaiming dark victory.They kill her

Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-54747526757634181842008-09-21T01:47:00.013+05:302010-01-08T16:52:49.868+05:30

Waking up to the magictormented with the needeyes still dreamy , in each fibreof my being, I feelYour smell, ever so divine,kisses me softlymakes me go weak in my knees,makes me smileDesperate for your warmthtouching my lips so tender,soothing my nervesmy heart beats, just a bit fasterYou make me alivemelting the painthe sun shines brighterwhen you burn through my veinsMy reflection told me,it

Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-69602704616500847542008-09-14T01:01:00.010+05:302010-01-08T16:11:00.312+05:30

Sitting by the oceanof love and life.Dipping my toesscared of the tide.Caressed by your voiceever so gentle.Setting me freepulling me deeper.Wild waves tauntmy lowered eyes.And I think of that someonewho has your love tonight.Holding you closeaway from the world.Through days of joyand nights of laughter.I wait foreverin smiles and tears .Silent, helpless words,but the heartbeat whispersYour soul

Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-53349665842082472202008-09-12T10:58:00.003+05:302010-01-08T16:03:32.672+05:30

Angry, 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.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-50003681039645491452008-05-30T18:41:00.001+05:302009-08-11T09:57:42.734+05:30

Do you feel me beside you,as the night surrounds us?Can you feel me hold you close,caressing, kissing your brow?In your eyes, questions infinite,Wanting me to concede.Lips sewn, bloodyrusty chains, I have on my feetThe morning will comeThe chill will be goneBut will you ever know,that my heart was torn?I let you pass by, lookingat me with eyes accusingfor hurting you every moment,with my dead,

Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-51675034150039132912008-04-09T17:40:00.002+05:302010-01-08T15:56:56.952+05:30

The cruel clockdrags slowly to half past one.Two tiny white pills..I cling on to my weapons.Pillow cold as iceheavier than wet unyielding rocksoft, white, moonlit beda mound of broken glassThe solitary streetlightmakes the shadowsdance on the ceilingto the tunes of melancholyCaressing my brow with lovethe Angel of pain bathesin the splendorof deafening silence“Rest is for the weak”,she

Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-21150808929281112472008-03-21T10:40:00.002+05:302010-01-08T15:53:30.994+05:30

He crawls, pleading eyesSearching through,Ashes, still warm..as her touch, her smile.Did she cry,whispered his name.He asks the tattered sky..Silent- desperate.Searching, did she pray..For him to see..Unshed acid tearsburning her skin.Did the angels cry,hearing her screams.Bones so tender,demons crushing.Bleeding hands, he findsher battered soul.The charred sparrow,Vacant eyes – frozen hope.He

Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-76491048036316258972008-02-28T07:54:00.002+05:302010-01-08T15:50:13.794+05:30

I carve outmy bleeding heartit hurts bit moreas I laughpainin your silenceburns mein the rainregretin your eyescuts me deeper thanthe deepest seafly away homeI set you freeas I pick up the piecesof our dream© 2008 by Chhaya. All rights reservedPS: the image is googled

Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-58478028033591872202008-02-27T07:52:00.002+05:302010-01-08T15:46:26.099+05:30

Counting the years..mirror in my hand,I searched for you..my shadow.Closing tired eyes..I kissed you my love,as I walked with a smile..living, performing the lies.I try laugh so hard..and make it look real,they smile back ..think they know how I feel.I pick up the thorns..from the velvety night,as your fingers..touch her ever so light.Scalded by the moonlight..I reached out to you,just stop the

Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-31146348364693292992008-02-26T07:44:00.003+05:302010-01-08T15:42:51.098+05:30

Smilingin my dreamfeeling your heartbeating next to meYou pull me closeand the night falls silentyour eyes touch mewhispering sweet nothingsLetting the mask slipsafe in your armsI becomea child againI lock the painaway foreveras I wear your promisefrom now till eternity© 2008 by Chhaya. All rights reservedPS: the image is googled

Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-43724160416504760782008-02-13T11:54:00.005+05:302010-01-08T15:28:21.598+05:30

FootstepsI miss a heartbeatIs it you?my fingers bleedtorn by the piecesof your hearttears meltwith smiles and dreamsIn your armsLightening, they saynever strikes twicewhat about love?PS: they are just efforts, not technically haiku© 2008 by Chhaya. All rights reservedPS: the image is googled

Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-68517864818455306942008-02-13T08:55:00.006+05:302010-01-08T15:24:43.633+05:30

Averted eyesdon’t tell whatI feel for you you reach outthree words of loveA moment too late She scares to touchglass walls aroundChildhood snatched Fragile envelopetoo precious to be tornStays unopened PS: they are just efforts, not technically haiku© 2008 by Chhaya. All rights reservedPS: the image is googled

Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-75802759055078545402008-02-12T09:34:00.005+05:302010-01-14T22:19:18.528+05:30

Sitting by the windowrelishing the pain,I hear the sunshinetip-toeing through the curtainsCool breeze whispers,with the whiff of dewI blush as if I amcaressed by youdarkness engulfs me,as the morning shines"I will always be around ",I hear your broken voiceCool, sliver of steel,slides on bare flesh.The world turns crimson,but I, feel no more pain© 2008 by Chhaya. All rights reservedPS: the

Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-4716284516025404682008-02-11T13:36:00.004+05:302010-01-08T15:20:36.714+05:30

World drowning in bloodhope floatsin the eyes of kidsI wait at the doorwayendless rainwill you be home tonight?Autumn leaf floats awayyour kisscan you hear the silence?burning my wishesI keep warmthe fire grows cold~~~~~~~~~~~~~PS: they are just efforts, not technically haiku © 2008 by Chhaya. All rights reserved PS: the image is googled

Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-25889209773175115812008-01-14T08:44:00.006+05:302010-01-08T14:13:03.465+05:30

Dark scary December nightCold. Dry. Miles longEyes full of pain, lips wearing a smile"For you my baby ", you said, "I will fight "Keeping your promiseyou fought onLong days, full of painLonger nights, when I sat by your sideYour hands, growing cold, kept me warm"I am scared ",clutching you,I whispered in the darkSmiling the pain away,You asked in the voice so faint"It’s a week to Christmas,What

Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-877742558488754430.post-65368017985217662442008-01-10T11:04:00.006+05:302010-01-08T14:00:42.146+05:30

Long day, strange faceslost in the crowd, yet you were with mePeople smilingI sigh – hoping, no one is there to seeThundering, dancingclouds ask for courageI bow, telling them its not to beI wish- hoping, no one is there to seeThe rain lashed on, soakingThe sky is crying, angryThey know, I was wrongI wince - hoping, no one is there to seeWalking home, I hear a footstepYou are around, I feel

Chhayahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02793691982402313454noreply@blogger.com7