Search

Asha's Blog

~A Cauldron of Thoughts~

Convalesce

An ethereal shift
An enter to exit
No backspace
Nothing to erase

No feelings
No control
Free as a dove
No more in love

~~~~~~~

Asha Seth

Featured post

Want more blog traffic? Here’s the trick!

Who doesn’t want more readers?
We might say,
I do it for self-satisfaction,
for thought-liberation,
to improve the language,
or create worded memories.

Right and agreed.

But has anyone ever felt they don’t much care about having an audience?
Having an audience to appreciate your work never hurt anyone.

As writers, all of us crave readers.
As writers, all of us want to know what readers feel about our work.
As writers, all of us wish that our words stay with our readers.
As writers, all of us wish to inspire other writers.

So, in the quest for knowledge, we seek answers to such questions.
But there’s one catch

Read no matter how many articles. Refer to no matter how many resources.
Speak to no matter how many experts. Share with no matter how many friends.

No one’s going to tell you this.
If there’s any rule to attract more traffic to your blog,
then it’s this –

Write More

And this, my dear friend, comes from experience.

My blog stats speak volumes about this trick.
Now, you wouldn’t want me to get into the titbits of it.
(Believe me, the numbers are truly embarrassing.)
So to overcome this, I resolved to publish about 4-5 posts each month.
So far, for the past 3 months, this has worked all right for me.
Getting me more readers than expected.
And trust me, having more readers to share their wonderful thoughts
is so much more fun and motivating.
It’s a sea of good people out there, and we know only a handful.

If you too wish to treat your blog right,
Write every day. Write more, each day.

Your thoughts deserve to be heard.
Your words deserve to be read.
Your blog deserves the traffic.

-Asha Seth

Featured post

The Boat

This poetry will captivate your mind.:-)

Writer: Manu S Kurup 
For more of his works, you can visit him here: https://theprimordialmanu.wordpress.com

 

The Primordial Man-U

DSC_2356

Do you know how they
build a boat?
They find the
perfect tree.
They cut a portion of it
and test it for
its age.
Then they test the
roots and the soil.
Then, they make the
boat.

Much like the algae that
grows under a boat,
the life on a boat is
diverse, as well.
My Mother was born
in a Boat.
I lived in one.
Alone.
For seven continuous
Days,
that changed my life.
I was much more abusive
when I stepped back
into land.

I pity those who have
never touched Earth with
their bare feet.
They have never lived.
I pity those who have
never breathed stale water
and Mud.
They’ve never felt the source
of life.

The Boat floats on top of all.
We are all boats.
This world is one.

– Manu

View original post

Featured post

Allow Me

What are you afraid of?
What’s stopping you?

Some pages are better torn off
and some meant to be burnt.
But don’t you stop me, baby,
allow me to fix you back.

Walk right by my side,
I’ll heal those scars
and take away the pain.
Cast your reservations aside.
Baby, open the door,
allow me inside,
in the darkest corners of your soul,
in the deepest recesses of your mind.
Allow me to fill every nook and cranny
of your heart, with pieces of me

Don’t you see
how you’re smothering me?
But I refuse to let go of you
To see you throw yourself
in the arms of despair.
Allow me to shower you
with nothing but love

Allow me to take you
to the meadows of happiness,
to the valleys of hope,
where there’s no room
for anguish and regrets.
Let bygones be bygones.
Let’s turn the page.
Baby, please allow me.
Let’s write a new love-tale.

~~~~~~~

Asha Seth

Featured post

The Dying Embers

Fire burnt the logs through the night,
and all that was left behind were the dying embers…

the warmth of your touch sinking deep under my skin,
you were the fire slowly turning me to ash…

under the starless sky, we lay,
counting beats that slowed down,
like twigs turning to embers…

as you traced your finger across my lips and down the neck,
the fire dancing in your gaze,
reduced me to a mere puppet,
ruled by emotions, craving for more…

as the waves collided with the shore and parted, time and again,
so did we, our skins, our bodies, our breaths,
you, giving away, all of you…
me, holding onto what little was left of me…

drawing circles on your skin, watching you sleep,
long did I hope the night wouldn’t end
as I stared at the dwindling fire,

that rehearsed our tale, depicted our fates

and before the rising sun could calm the restless waves,
you were gone.
leaving behind an unanswered enigma,

a pale morning,  vague imprints on the sand,
and a heart as cold as ash…

ash left behind from the dying embers,
just like the memories, left behind by you.

~~~~~~~

Asha Seth

Featured post

Forever

At a quarter past nine
w
ith a candy bar and a smile
s
he left him waiting
under the tamarind tree 

At a quarter past nine
nineteen years since
his steps lead him unconscious
waiting for her incredulous

In the dark
under the dim stars
withered, weakened
stands he under the dried tree

Inconsolable sorrow
engulfing his heart and soul
Where has she gone?
When will she return?

And although, many such years
will come and be gone
and although, life will keep moving on
but to him, the waiting is all that’s left
to him, the waiting will go on forever

~~~~~~~

Asha Seth

Featured post

Finally Home

Lived stranded,
for far too long,

accepting,
all that came along

until I met you!

The moment I set eyes on you
is the only moment I’ve lived
in a long long time

A nice warm feeling it was,
and I was cold and numb

this far, I had nowhere to go
But now, I was finally home

A feeling like those
of revisiting old photos
like walking in the fields
you once did 
as a kid

Like the first touch, the first kiss,
like snow melting
on your skin

Nothing else mattered
because I knew I  had found
what my heart had longed for.

I was finally home.

~~~~~~~

Asha Seth

Featured post

Long Lost

little things
like secrets, like stories
are bearers of poignant memories
of sobs and smiles
long lost  in the sands of time

little things
like secrets, like stories
they make home and stay forever
in some forgotten corner
of the mind
waiting to be sought and celebrated
like those broken toys
now left untouched, uncared
in some unattended, undisturbed
corner  in the attic
gathering dust and what not
fading away are their true colors
erasing away the fingerprints
you left on them
that now you hardly remember

little things
like secrets, like stories
come rushing back
in the dark, in loneliness
just to be with you
like companions
real and true
kissing upon wounds
like the way
perhaps, only words could do

~~~~~~~

Asha Seth

Featured post

When a writer bleeds

her world shrinks
as faces cease to exist
days lack brightness
nights miss the glow

walks become rambles
blank are the thoughts
no place is desirable
just she and herself

behind shut doors
are windows closed
and the solitary corner
beckoning her

not a speck of light
in the gloomy room
except a flickering
lamp at the table
she bleeds on

walls see her drown
in a gush of emotions
secrets they hold
that none will ever know

whimper to words
sorrow to scribbles
and yet another story
is about to be born

~~~~~~~
Asha Seth

Featured post

Colour Black

To me
you’ll always be
the colour black
concealing a part of me

So dark
so mysterious
so seductive
so rebellious

Engulfing me
heart and whole
like the darkness 
that surrounds

There you are
and yet not there
cease to exist
at the slightest touch

An illusion
a mirage
in the depths of my heart
all that’s of you
is an obscure view

Dark and distinct
just like shadows
out of my reach forever
you’ll always be
the colour black

~~~~~~~
Asha Seth

 

Featured post

Tell Me

Tell me
you love me
and there’s nothing more I need to know

 Tell me
you hate me
and there’s nothing more I want to know

Tell me 
you want to give it a chance
and there’s nothing I would not do

Tell me
you are done trying
and there’s nothing I’ll ask you to do

~~~~~~~

Asha Seth

 

Featured post

Thoughts

Words escape my mind,
but thoughts never leave.
Caught in a whirlwind,
this is what perplexes me…

What happens when you miss someone?
Do they miss you too?

What happens when your heart misses a beat?
Does it get passed on to someone somewhere
Needing it to live?

What happens when we blink our eyes?
The things we miss to see, are they not worth a view?

What happens,
when you bleed for someone?
Do they feel the pain too?

What happens when we lose something?
Does someone else find it?

What happens, when we steal a glance?
At someone, someone we love?
Do they get the butterflies too?

What happens when something you deserve
but never get?
When something you only dreamt of is finally a reality?

My mind, a cauldron of thoughts.
Words escape my mind,
but the thoughts never leave.

~~~~~~~

Asha Seth

Featured post

Irony

He walked tip-toed
To not wake her
from her sleep

Hardly did he know
She was not sleeping
but drifting away

In the arms of who
awaited her
on the other side

~ ~ ~

Asha Seth

Featured post

A writer’s anxiety

As a writer, it makes me anxious to not know exactly where I’m headed with my writing. Most times, I have no clear view of where I am going. It’s like walking in a tunnel with no end. It leaves me in a haze. Do such thoughts bother you too? Whatever is your big aim – to be a top-notch blogger or an accomplished author – if you find yourself pondering over it, you are not alone.

This post is for all those writers like me who are anxious about their writing goals or dreams.

Let me ask you this?

  • Do you crave to bleed out the best while at the keyboard, churning out the best story for your blog post, novel, short story?
  • Do you also cherish a hidden desire like writing a masterpiece that will blow all?
  • Do you also want to be as famous as let’s see, maybe, Poe, King, Doyle, Dickens, Rowling or Marquez?
  • Do you also dream of that day when you would get a dozen phone calls of readers wanting to, maybe, just hear you?

And you do not know which part of this writing journey will get what you want? You are welcome to the club I-don’t-know-where-my-writing-is-taking-me. In other words, I don’t know what is that secret ingredient to make my writing take me places.

Being a novice writer, I have read what most famous writers in history have done – their writing patterns, their reading patterns, their precious advice for writers and trust me, it’s a lot to do and be dedicated to. And even though I’ve been roping in most of these rules in my writing, there is that penetrating thought lurking in my head – Am I doing it right? What more do I need to do?

As writers, the single act of writing is all I ask for. So yes, satisfaction, there is. Immense. Fulfilling. Gratifying. And yet these desires rattle in my head with each word that I type. Reminding me of the miles there is to go before I finally go to sleep.

-Asha Seth

 

Featured post

I still believe…

I still believe that fairies exist.
I still believe that so does magic.

I still believe that I cannot watch a loved one die.
I also believe that I could kill for a loved one.

I still believe that lying is easier than convincing.
I also believe that people don’t think too deep when they lie.

I still believe that when someone dies they never really leave.
I also believe love can bring them back.

I still believe that I can never unlove him.
I also believe that I can never again trust him.

I still believe that things will one day change.
I also believe that life’s going to be a lot better.

~~~~~~~

Asha Seth

Featured post

Looking for Answers

What do you do when you seem to be fighting for peace
Every single day?
To be heard, to be understood.

Things running out of hands all the time.
But what do you do if not wait and watch them
slip from between the gaps in your fingers.

Every turn you take seems to be a wrong one. Every decision a bad one.
The ones you thought would stay, left without so much as a word.
The ones you’d rather never set eyes upon, linger in your thoughts all day.

Nothing ever spans out the way you want,
and nothing ever comes out of waiting long.
Everything you ever wanted, you might as well drop the hopes.
And making peace with what you have, if only it was that easy.

And why, oh why? Each day, do we wake up,
consoling that pretty little heart of ours,
that one day everything’s going to be fine.
Sometimes, you just know, it’s never going to be.

It’s going to be a mess in your head
A lump of sorrow in your heart.
And yet like someone who suffers from memory loss,
you convince yourself, it’s all good.

Endless questions. Answers, not one.
Confused as hell? Yes.
Looking for… answers, maybe.

– Asha Seth

Featured post

Hurt

It doesn’t hurt as much
When you say you don’t love me
It doesn’t hurt as much
When you show you don’t need me
But it does hurt
When you walk away each time
It does hurt
When you say you’re not the one for me

Rid yourself off my thoughts
You can
You’re not denied
To ask the same of me
It does hurt
Live without me
You can
To expect the same of me
It does hurt
You prove that you’re right
It doesn’t hurt
Make me believe I’m wrong
It does hurt

~~~~~~~

Asha Seth

Featured post

Following

In the middle of the night
When I turn out the light
I see your shadows
Following me

Anxious
I push aside the curtains
Peeking out the window
Check over once thorough

Finding nothing
Less settles my restless heart
Bringing myself out on the porch
I tip-toe
Behind the bushes,
Beyond the fence
Waiting for the shadows
Following me

No shadows or figures,
That I see
But I know you are
Following me

I stay wide awake
Perched at the window sill
My heart hoping
To see those shadows again
Just this again

A light wind
Ruffles my locks
Sending a shiver
Down my spine
A smile settles on my lips
A drop of tear trickles down my cheek

I know it is you
Sending kisses on the wind
Like you have
Since the time you’ve gone
Keeping up your promise
Of following me

~~~~~~~

Asha Seth

Featured post

Resolutions

Be kind to others
Or pledge to transform yourself

~~~

Make someone smile each day
Or travel the globe

~~~

Teach someone to write
Or read a million words

~~~

Fall in love
Or make peace with your past

~~~

Pray for the deprived
Or share your fortunes

~~~

Swim, Trek, Travel or Laugh
Live differently or make someone live different

~~~

b67b2903e5409bf650d52a85b89ae1d7

Do whatever makes your heart happy but make sure you do
And each night before you go to bed
Do ask yourself – Was the day useful enough?

~~~

Ask this each night
And let it change the following mornings

~~~

Because one day when
You will count your last breaths
And ask this to yourself
And take my word you’ll regret then
If you failed to leave a mark in this world

~~~~~~~

Asha Seth

Featured post

On Christmas

It’s Christmas
and the time of the year
when everyone around
is celebrating and enjoying
is praising and worshiping
moms busy making Christmas cookies
kids waiting for Santa and gifts

I too want to believe
that Santa is for real
and travels on sleighs
pulled by reindeer
that he grants wishes
and makes dreams come true

But if wishes were really granted?
What do I ask for?

I look around
It’s a pity picture
No humanity in hearts
No value for relationships
No sympathy for the helpless
No mercy for other creatures

I know now
what to ask for

I don’t ask for happiness
I ask for kindness
I don’t ask for love
I ask for compassion
I don’t ask for beauty
I ask for brains
I don’t ask for wisdom
I ask for understanding
I don’t ask for luck
I ask for hope

May all of us
be blessed with these
abundantly
making the world
a better place to live in.

Wishing you a very happy Christmas!

~~~~~~

Asha Seth

Featured post

Mysterious

Hidden with dense interpretations
Left to his mind’s contemplation
Her mysterious expressions
Stir his insides

A momentary pause
From the routine
Letting herself wander
Perhaps, in the world of her dreams

Those tiny little curves
Find him in a wonder
As she quietly saunters
Enjoying his unperturbed attention

A quick gaze and half a smile,
And his heart is so set to aflutter
He is amazed at the tricks
She mysteriously plays on his mind

Riding his curiosity
With her innocence
Piercing his senses
Desperation dripping

He wants more of it
And also an end to it

The sweet torture
The pleasant affliction
She casts on him

Goading him
To sweep her off her feet
Cradle her in his arms
Kiss her, Caress her

Unravel the mystery
That she is

~~~~~~~

Asha Seth

Featured post

Uncertain

The walks I take
In the evenings, cold and dreary
With the sun setting on the horizon
I’m uncertain where I want to go

The mornings I spend
Wishing this and that
Unhappy with what I have
I’m uncertain about what I want

The notes I make
Sitting on the porch
Writing and striking words
I’m uncertain what they mean

The many people I meet
The faces I smile at
The moment they leave
I’m uncertain if I know them

The nights I spend
Lying awake, eyes wide open
Brooding over hopeless desires
I’m uncertain why I’m holding onto them

What is my heart waiting for?
Why isn’t it at ease?
Who is it looking for?
And all it says is – Past

I want to move on
And not agonize over it
But the heart doesn’t.
It wants to keep the memories
Close and safe.

‘That’s all I have’, I hear it say.
Swear, I feel the same
But do I want to say it out loud?
I’m uncertain.

~~~~~~~

Asha Seth

Featured post

Nostalgic

Why do birthdays bring a wave of nostalgia?

Pondering as much as I am,
I can only rejoice in the sudden rush of emotions the memories have fetched,
leaving me nostalgic.

It’s my little sister’s birthday today
and once again I’m back to the days when I cradled her in my arms,
sang her to sleep, taught her to put pen on paper,
walked her to school, held her close when she sobbed uncontrollably.

As she grew up, I made sure she knew
what it meant when a guy said can we meet after school,
or that you ensure no one is to inch so close as to make you uncomfortable.
What it meant when you find blood spots on your clothing for the first time,
changing the sanitary pads, choosing the first bra,
wearing a skirt that is short enough to look classy and long enough to cover your body.

That you must ignore when snide remarks are made,
but also be smart enough to not take shit from others.
Don’t put up a fight unnecessarily, but stand up and fight for what’s right.

PhotoGrid_1444584508181

A small girl, timid and shy, she was.
I always worried what would happen if she discovered things on her own,
if she happened to fall in situations that were beyond her control.
I was scared to let her out of my sight. Protective and paining.
I guess you do that when you love someone so much
that even a small scratch on their skin would get your heart bleeding.

But the sands of time have shifted, and today she is 20.

Celebrating her 20th birthday, I am happy to see her grown into a smart woman.
I find the kid I was so protective of, peeking at me from behind those mature laughs,
those mischievous eyes, that cute smile.

And I realise, no matter how old she grows,
she’ll always be the little girl
who stared at me for long,
from beyond the school gates,
not wanting me to let her go.

-Asha Seth

Featured post

The Old Man & the Dog

He sniffed everyone passing by.
Their scents, their dangling handbags,
And looked up at them, with pleading eyes…

The heartless drove him away, kids pelted stones at him,
Out of disgust, of fear or rage, scaring him to death.
Away he ran and stood staring at their backs as they walked on…

They looked at him, but didn’t bother to acknowledge his gaze.
The bones poking out of his skin went unnoticed.
Dying of hunger he was, but when has the rich understood that…

It was getting dark and for hours he had stood restless,
Hoping if someone would throw a few biscuits or dried rotis,
Or just some unusable rotting trash that he would devour with pleasure.

At last, when people thinned out of the street,
An old man dragged his feet who looked toward him.
A few seconds of eye meeting the eye, and he shyly wagged his tail…

Slowly, the old man went down the street turning around a corner to his hut,
That the dog had followed him, he had known.
But before stepping in, the old man turned to look at him.
With a slight glimmer of hope,
the dog wagged his tail, a bit vigorously this time…

Having spent days thirsty and starved himself,
The old man knew that look on the dog’s face all too well.
In a crooked plate, he fetched all that was left – dried pieces of bread,
And a coconut shell that held salt water just taken off the flame.

One by one, dipping the bread in the water,
He threw them all in the dog’s direction.
With such haste he swallowed them down.
His eyes met the old man’s once again as he rested at the hut’s doorway…

Kindness doesn’t cost much you would think.
But tell you what, kindness comes for a price.

One ate to his stomach’s content,
Hardly aware of the old man’s plight.
The other would sleep with hunger
now clinging onto his back…

Just as it had traveled on the dog’s,
for days, restless and concealed.
For as long as there’s negligence,
satiated, it never will be.

~~~~~~~

Asha Seth

Featured post

Nobody’s Business!

You shouldn’t care what I write. It’s my blog. It’s my thought. And it’s nobody’s business.

I snap, I am bad at people when they try to tell me that an idea about my post is bad. Or that the ending I chose for a story was wrong. If I could, I would swallow them alive. I mean, seriously, it is one thing to say that you don’t agree with a thought, but that you think it was totally wrong… hello?

I love my readers and followers; they are the reason I am here. They motivate me enough to go on, despite my writing being downright shitty sometimes. I know I mess it up at times and I’m okay with that. But readers who think they could do a better job with my post than me – go grab a pen and write your own stuff if you really think you’re so good.

This has never happened until now in the past 3 years. A random reader (who doesn’t even write) read an old blog post – Writing Simple – and had the nerve to say that,

The options suggested in the post for newbie bloggers seems ridiculous as they won’t help anyone go much far if they are aiming high such as to be an author or be a professional writer. And it is absolutely beyond me as to how the post managed 55 odd likes. It really needs a second thought.

Again, as writers and readers of our own blog posts, we know that the thoughts mentioned in our posts are born from personal experiences, struggles, mistakes and follies and not a result of some laborious survey. It is what we’ve learnt while on the road. I strongly feel that if we wish to share it with the world for the greater good, unless it misleads or leaves the reader with a dystopian effect, it is nobody’s business to be harsh or critical about it, or pass judgments. And it applies to you, to me or to anybody on the planet.

So here’s to all snobs, who hit my space or anyone else’s, just to throw dirt, once again – what I write is my word, and nobody’s business. If you liked what you read, come again. If you didn’t? Well, just don’t hit my space again, ‘cause it can survive without you.

– Asha Seth

Featured post

If We Ever Meet Again

On restless evenings, filled with utter hopelessness,
Lying sprawled under the ceiling, weaving mindless fantasies.
I wish for the hundredth time, that we crossed paths, someday.
And also curious, that if we ever met again, what would it be like?

A thousand memories lie scattered on the floor,
From that day, when it all ended.
Bleeding inside, aching right to the bone, I still am.
And yet, at the slightest thought of you, something inside stirs.

Eyes tired and sulky, looking for you, even now.
Hardly do I know how to convince them otherwise.
With every beat, each step inched towards you, all this time,
Who is to be blamed, and how?

I, I can live in the melancholy your memories bring,
But to stop myself from walking down the same lane,
To give up thinking about all that we had,
I am not sure if I want to do that.

To coax myself, to breathe in a space devoid of you?
It suffocates me, even the thought so much as chokes me.
How is the heart to be tamed again?
When, at the slightest thought of you, it wants you right back.

And with every passing moment, I find myself asking.
If we ever meet again, would you wait a second or walk away?
The yearning growing for months now, would it meet a dead end?
or will the moment resurrect lost opportunities?

Would you smile, acknowledging the longing?
Or just reflect another melancholy?

A silent passing of words,
And the little hope left in me, evaporating in thin air.
Or will it get the sea of my desires surging?
Wiping out the asphyxiation, that’s so drowning me,
Finally, breathing back life into me.

~~~~~~~

Asha Seth

Featured post

Waiting…

contd

Please come back!

Teasing me? Like I was teasing you minutes ago.

You always played this game. Hide n seek.

Only so you could come around me and hug me from the back.

Startling me.

But this was no joke,

I scanned the near distance. Upon not finding you, I felt weak in the knees.

My heart raced one instant, now it was struggling to breathe.

Tracing steps back, I kept calling out your name, over and over again.

First with worry, which was soon replaced by fear, then desperation, and then madness.

Where were you?

I tried to remember exactly when I stopped catching up with your footsteps.

I couldn’t remember. How stupid? How irresponsible silly girl?

I ran dodging the tangles, the dead trees. Not a bird in sight, not a soul.

Where were you? My heart cried.

Worried and cursing you, for if this was a prank, I’d make you pay well.

The woods that thus far seemed just one long road now appeared to have dense routes.

Where did we come from? Which way do I take first?

Tears came down, rushed, unstoppable, adamant.

What am I to do? Where am I to go, with you lost and not a person in sight?

Every turn seemed to deceive me, every tree another lost hope.

Even trees started to thin out and yet no sight of you.

Over the strewn logs, I’d sat and cried.

A vast expanse the woods were, and you but just a grain of sand.

What was I to do?

Years it took before I’d found you again. Years it’d take more.

Helpless. Hopeless.

Turning around the corner, I kept waiting for you at your grave.

~~~~~~~

Asha Seth

Featured post

RIP (Return If Possible) Dr Kalam

Mere 6 days ago, I saw this shocking update on twitter where Haryana Education Minister, at a school function, paid homage to the now Late Former President, Dr APJ Abdul Kalam. It was shocking and no matter what, it had to be joke. It had to be!

Within the matter of mere seconds, I brought the internet down hunting for any signs of the ‘Missile Man’s’ demise. Turned out, it was a rather ridiculous mistake. I could hardly stand the minister’s folly.

Yesterday, watching the news of his demise on national television, my heart sank. I could feel my insides go numb, with the reporter’s voice piercing my heart with every word he uttered. It was true. Very true. No follies this time. How I wished it was. For once, the minister’s folly didn’t seem as excruciatingly painful as the actual news.

Yes, Dr Kalam passed away last evening while delivering a lecture at IIM Shillong. A cardiac arrest and he could not be revived.

A heart stops beating. A nation suffers irreparably. The beacon of inspiration for crores left for heavenly abode.

My memories of Dr Kalam come a long way.

My grandfather who retired few years ago, after many years of service at BARC, Mumbai had worked closely with Dr Kalam on certain nuclear projects. I recollect an occasion from many years ago, when I was 4 or 5. A get-together had Dr Kalam under my grandfather’s roof when I had seen him for the first and only time.

It was my grandfather who introduced me to Dr Kalam’s books since he was himself personally very fond of his senior. As years passed by, I read almost all of the Former President’s books and there!

I grew to build a kind of bond with Dr Kalam. He became my role model, what with his consistent efforts towards the nation’s betterment and inspiring the youth to dream big.

He grew up in adversity and went on to become the ‘Missile man’ of India, more popularly named as ‘People’s President’ after serving his term in NDA’s regime. I guess, it’s when you know what a man has walked through, to lead himself to successful heights, is when you grow to love them. I’ve tried to imbibe his life-transforming way of thinking, secular approach, in my life too. And with time, I’ve changed to a different person. I owe a lot to the man who transformed the nation, made us all feel proud Indians.

Ever felt like you suffered a poignant loss by the passing away of someone you never met? With Dr Kalam gone, that’s exactly how I feel. Tears wouldn’t stop, nor will the heart stop aching. I guess, it’s a very different feeling. The loss is here to stay and the void very large to be ever filled by anyone.

My dream of meeting the man who shaped me to a better individual will remain a dream forever. And it is in no one I see that inspirational figure who could stand as tall as him in my heart and mind.

RIP (Return If Possible) Dr Kalam.

-Asha Seth

Featured post

Waiting

You held my hand as I walked ahead of you. You trudged along

The dried leaves, tangled mass of branches, scattered everywhere

the leaves crunched beneath my feet reminding me just how much I love autumn

Sunlight creeped in through the dense mass of leaves and branches overhead

I looked up, above me, loving the feel of the not-so-harsh rays of sun falling on my face

Mildly warm and so comforting

I looked back at you and saw you glancing on your right

Jealous as I get to what’s caught your interest in the woods

I tickled your palm slightly, just so much to have your attention back

You glanced at me, but I could say you were lost in thoughts

We walked on…

waiting

Your grip loosened again and your fingers slowly slid away falling to your side

I kept on going

“What if we are lost?” I’d asked to keep you,

from whatever was distracting you

You took your time to answer like you always do

And I waited for several more seconds like I always do

The quietness amplified with every second

You must be lost in thoughts I’d assumed

without realizing it was actually me who was lost all this while

The sound of your footsteps following me had long died, but when had I noticed that?

I’d tugged at a twig, dangling from a branch, almost stumbling

Gaining balance I’d asked again, a little louder, this time

“Baby, what if we are lost, here, in these woods? What shall we do?”

With a little play in my voice, to tease you like I always did.

I’d heard a bird cry, in the far distance. It had sent chills down my spine.

Was this the first cry that even registered with me or was I just…?

I’d taken a turn about the tree, next to me.

Holding on to its bark, dead, scathing

A twig pricked my finger and it immediately started to bleed

Putting it to my mouth, I came around the tree.

The prick hadn’t hurt till then,

but the pain came down on me as an avalanche just the next minute

Blood drained out of my skin and eyes couldn’t see clearer anymore

Where were you?

…to be continued

Featured post

What is Love?

Growing up watching the mindless melodramatic romance in Bollywood movies,
I always thought love was something that got butterflies in your stomach
when that one person looks at you and smiles.
How it sends shivers when they so much as touch you.
The tickling feeling that brushes your heart when he comes close to kiss you.
Yes, all of this and a lot more.

Of late, however, I have a reason to believe differently.

What is love?

It’s when…

~~~~~
He wakes up at 6.45 so you don’t miss waking up at 7.

When he stirs you a lemonade because you are feeling low
When he runs the tap for the bucket to fill just so you don’t get late to work
Getting pills and a glass of water ready after dinner so you don’t miss them
He hand-feeds you when you come home spending an exhausted fast day 
Blows your food cold because you like it that way
Sends you an ‘I love you’ text in the middle of the day
~~~~~
Watches your favorite Harry Potter movies with you even though he least likes them
Sends you your favorite ‘You’re my lobster’ FRIENDS quote just so you smile looking at it
Eats that dish you cooked with such fervor even when you’ve missed a thing or two
Tells you ‘You’re beautiful’ when you damn well know you couldn’t have looked worse
He holds your hand tight climbing up and down the escalator because he knows your fear of heights.

It all sounds just too ticklish romantic to be true.
Things you read in books. Things a girl dreams of.

Love, as I’ve come to believe, is not about flowers and chocolates,
or expensive gifts and candle-light dinners.
Love is a lot of little things put together.
It’s the start of a beautiful life in the most beautiful place possible; next to him. ♥

And it takes just that one person to make you see what love is.

~~~~~~~

Asha Seth

Featured post

For a moment, let’s just…

For a moment, let’s just…
Stand still
And look around
Watch the birds fly
Or hear the rustle of autumn leaves
Or let the deafening silence reign

For a moment, let’s just…
Stand by the sea
And enjoy the waves
Crash against the rocks
And let us do nothing
But watch the bubbles disperse
Never to be found again.

For a moment, let’s just…
Blink our eyes
Ever so quick
Repetitively
And what forms?
In front of our eyes
The image we see
Is a broken one
Or perhaps just dark is all we see
What can we make of it?

For a moment, let’s just…
Let  a moment pass
In solitude
Where you get
To know nothing, no one,
And yet you know
You are everything there is,
And will be.

~~~~~~~

Asha Seth

Featured post

And for once…

For some unknown reason, I felt like sharing this again.

Asha's Blog

49acb4981e7e5a2e99a4f1d1d2faf0ea Image Credit: Pinterest

…and for once, I want to forget the sad memories,
and think of all the happier ones…
tonight, can I leave behind?
the heartaches caused by the impossible would-bes…
can I step aside?
and make way for the crippling afflictions to pass…
can I look past your cruel carelessness
that paralysed my affections…
…and, just this once, perhaps, just for tonight,
can I allow myself to fall in love with you again?

-Asha Seth

View original post

Featured post

Another Mistake?

Yes, it’s all about who’s stood by your side when you needed them the most. But what about those who chose to leave despite their wish to not do so. They had to, because that was best for you. That was what they had to do in that moment of truth when you have to choose the right from the easy. Or maybe because it was best for them.

We are hasty in making decisions, especially when we are heartbroken. Ever thought about how frustrated we get when something doesn’t span out the way we wanted? Think about it. Speaks tonnes about our capacity as humans. What’s the difference, I ask? Rather introspect.

The right things feel wrong. There is always a second thought to the most thought-out solution. Our brain somersaults a hundred times over events, digging out thoughts from its deepest wells, from right the core of its cells, from the thousand cranial nerves. Draining us.

A recent event left me scarred. I’d rather not talk about it. But let me ponder out loud on the trailing thoughts. I’ve always believed that there’s a limit to how much a person can tolerate in a lifetime. Apparently, it’s quite the opposite. There’s no limit to pain or suffering.

A friend, a beloved one, vowed to stay close, forever. Things went haywire as was destined and he chose to leave. Hasty, he was. Hurt, was I.  I so want to believe that what he did was probably out of sheer pressure of sorts or maybe the righteous cells in his body coaxed him to back out of a friendship that lasted a decade. Yes, more than a decade.

I’m being hard on myself right now beating myself to believe he did not deserve my friendship. That the times we spent together were mere illusions that are stuck in my head. That there’s nothing that can be done when someone chooses to leave but to accept their decision. But I also know none of it is true. I’ve cried myself to sleep. And yet I wish, things had not ended.

Forcing myself into doing things is something I suck at. Maybe that’s why it’s so tough for me. People come and go all the time, but friends don’t. And friends shouldn’t. Believing that someone who was an integral part of your life is now non-existent is effing hard. Moreover, that your friendship with them was a mistake is painstakingly hard to accept.

You miss them all the time and they don’t. So then, was there a connection at all? And if there was, why was it so easily crushed to death?

I might be wrong, in all fairness. And I am ready to sort it out. Are you? Is what I wish to ask. But to who? I have no idea. Maybe it’s another mistake that I’m yet thinking about sorting things out when the other person has clearly moved on.

-Asha Seth

Featured post

Mindless Musings

You crave for something for only so long,
and then you begin convincing yourself.
That certain blanks will remain unfilled forever,
certain meanings undeciphered forever,
some questions will forever seek answers
and gradually, you lose hope,
there’s no more faith left, no right or wrong.
Just you and your mindless musings,
for days, for years,
until you cease to breathe.

~~~~~~~

Asha Seth

Featured post

Recovery

Some days, you may not feel like talking – accept it, and stay quiet.
You may not feel like moving out of the house – stay in, remain locked up.
No desire to eat or drink – remain such, till your body starts to crave food.
Nor you may have the appetite for anything that you ordinarily love to do.

But it’s quite okay.

Just be, wasted, spent, doing nothing, in oblivion.
Probably, your body is taking the time to cope up
with certain things that make you bleed inside.
This is recovery time.
Let them heal; the scars that have been hurting.

You need to let your heart and mind grow.
How will you otherwise ever let go?

~~~~~~~

Asha Seth

Featured post

Unlove

One fine evening
I sat knitting.
Shifting patterns and struggled trials,
Doing and undoing the thing,
over and over again…

At times, I cursed beneath my breath,
other times, I hurled them yarns and needles,
right across the room…

It was less a struggle with the needles,
more with my heart and mind.
The mind made it so obvious,
the heart hardly liked…

Why can you love someone,
but can never unlove them?
If only life was a ball of yarn,
with the needles in our hands.

~~~~~~~

Asha Seth

Featured post

Letters

On the loneliest days,
when living’s hard to do,
infused with pensive longing,
your letters carry your smell,
and also the reason
for wanting to breathe again

~~~~~~~

Asha Seth

Featured post

Ruin

storms wrecked her,
reduced her to a ruin…
and he waited at the shore,
counting waves,
night and day…

~~~~~~~

Asha Seth

Featured post

December

the snow, the chilly winds,
these will always be,
December, though,
will always remind me,
of us, you and me,
your whispers on foggy breaths,
the warmth of your touch,
melting beneath my skin.

~~~~~~~

Asha Seth

Featured post

Pen & Paper

She barely existed in the world of people;
those faces, masks of lies and deceit.
She concealed her joys and tears,
for her companions – the pen and the paper.

~~~~~~~

Asha Seth

Featured post

Second Chances

She is on the brink of adulthood, with much that life can give her.
If only she gave it a second chance. But will she?

A friend’s cousin, yet to be 16, attempted ending her life. I’ve never met or spoken to her and yet, trapped is my mind, this morning, in her thoughts. The various emotions her conscience must have battled with, her body must have rebelled against her decision, and finally given in, and the mental conundrum she tortured herself through, are now twisting and turning, in my head.

It astonishes me that the country I live in has the highest number of suicides in the world. About a lac Indians attempt suicide each year and the figures are quite disturbing. Alarming. Imagine, every 40 seconds a person dies of suicide in some corner of the world. Moreover, an unsuccessful attempt should not lead one to presume that the person will not attempt a suicide again. 80% people who commit suicide have attempted it at least once previously. It’s creepy.

Beyond myself, I am pondering over things like – while you are going on with your day, someone somewhere is searching ways to end their life. It can be your next desk colleague, the person sitting next to you on the bus, the person at the traffic signal asking directions to somewhere, the lady standing ahead of you at the grocery shop till, someone in the family, or perhaps, a cousin, a close friend. It numbs me.

I will not get into what persuades one to attempt suicide nor go listing reasons why one should not commit the act. I guess everyone has their reasons and moreover, there is little one can do to help them in time since suicidal people are indiscernible.

At times, it sure looks like the end of the tunnel is after all a blank dark void. Surviving thoughts as dark as pitch can need more courage than physically moving a boulder. In wake of mental distress, we lose the far-sightedness the intuitive human nature compels us to consider. There is no wrong or right. Nothing easy or tough. You lose the appetite for living through another day, let alone the rest of your life. Giving yourself a second chance, as a thought, is only as close as Mercury is to Neptune, tediously far apart.

After having done something similar with my life too, I now realize, that it doesn’t take much to peep beyond the fence. Even after 4 years, at the slightest strike of depression, I vacillate back and forth from positive direction to grim outlook. It is a struggle to continually remind myself – This is not the end. There’s always a second chance.

It’s not the last exam you failed at, there’s always a next chance
nor the last interview, as something better awaits
nor has the world reduced to just you to not find love in a second man
neither it is the last attempt if your first book, song, movie, dream or a goal did not reach desired heights
heartaches and failures only make you stronger
and you do have it in you to take second chances with life.

If all was to end at dusk, there wouldn’t have been another day.
Have you ever thought of that?

I have written this post hoping that it helps someone in the crux of time. Before it’s too late. Perhaps…

~~~~~~~

-Asha Seth

Featured post

Are there writing rules?

There are no writing rules, unless of course, if your job depends on it.

I am an amateur writer. I have never followed any rules or guides so far. I just write whatever I want to, whichever way I want to. So when someone asks me what rules there are to writing, I ask them to consult Google and if you want it my way, then just write. Write till your mind is empty, totally empty with no more thoughts left. Write during the day or at midnight when the world’s asleep. Just write.

I moved to a new city and with it, came the freedom of being alone. I feel so liberated that it all feels like a dream to me; too good to be true. But it is true and awesome too. Consequently, I spend a lot of time writing, scribbling away frantically with my pen moving in a rhythmic fashion from one word to another. Sometimes the thoughts are pouring themselves out in such a rush  that I eat up words, end up linking sentences that feel inappropriate later. But I write nonetheless.

I have learnt that the more I write, the more I have to write. There’s never an end. It’s like a craving that doesn’t cease to appease my appetite for words. Have you ever felt that way?

If you are not sure about the quality of your writing and are not yet ready to share them on public platforms, the mantra is one – write a diary. This way you can get enough practice before you are ready to publish your work on the web. Again, it doesn’t have to be gigantic technology or science or philosophy related content. You can just start by noting down your day to day experiences. Something good happened, write it down. You are angry, the diary is right there for you to vent it out. Put everything down there. A loss or tragedy, you are suffering in grief, what best than writing about how you feel at that moment?

I am one of those people who love to write diary entries. Sometimes I write as much as 5 entries in a day and sometimes for weeks there’s nothing on it. Sometimes, it is just a sentence or two and other times, I scribble down pages after pages until my fingertips go numb and refuse to write another word. More than satisfying the crave to write, it is an over-flowing cauldron of thoughts that I keep running through in my spare time. A diary is the best way to keep memories stocked up.

Also, there’s only so much you can share with friends or family and certain things are way too personal to be shared. Don’t you agree? A diary comes very handy at such times. Plus you have the liberty to make as many blunders from criss-cross thoughts, while you write in a diary. Gradually, as your writing matures, you can think about blogging.

Now, while there are no rules to writing, it is needless to say that basic aspects like grammar, proper sentence construction, no confusing content, need to be in place. You do not want a shoddy picture at the end of the day. Rules, style guides and writing tips to polish your work are available in plenty on the web. You may refer them.

So there’s no rule, at least not one that I follow. Mostly because I am least bothered about that kind of thing. If it makes me happy, then that’s all there is to it.

-Asha Seth

Featured post

Maybe

maybe it’s true,
maybe we are not meant for each other

maybe how we feel when we are with each other, may not be true
maybe we are just fooling ourselves, maybe exploiting each other
to get past things we know will never happen but we so desire

maybe it’s just me or maybe it’s you too…

and maybe someday,
when we are gone our separate ways…

may we look back to today and hope, we had the chance again
to accept what we deny today, may we breathe in the odds

maybe for once, we finally, give our hearts the liberty
to dream the dreams we once ignored,
to falsify the insecurities we bred

maybe for once, we become one as to never fall apart

and maybe for once,
we look into each other’s eyes
and rejoice in what we know is true

we were and will always be, meant for each other
just like the seas and the skies…

~~~~~~~

Asha Seth

Featured post

And for once…

…and for once 
I want to forget everything
that didn’t work out
I want the sad memories to fade away
and be followed by
only the happy ones…

tonight, can I leave behind?
the heartaches
caused by the impossible would-bes…
can I step aside?
and make way for the crippling afflictions to pass…
can I look past your cruel carelessness
that paralysed my affections…
…and, just this once,
perhaps, just for tonight,

can I allow myself
to fall in love with you again?

~~~~~~~

Asha Seth

Featured post

From a distance…

Scarred you for the hundredth time
How can I expect you to forgive?
I was everything you ever wanted, you’d said
Now, you can’t stand even the sight of me

What was I supposed to do?
How was I supposed to choose?
To tell you the truth and see you leave
or mask it up and keep you close

What would you do, I asked but you never replied
Watching you from a distance, I know
I’d still have chosen you even if that was with a defaming lie

A hundred lies I weaved. A hundred tales I spun
Wondering always how could you love one?
So much, to not ever doubt them, suspect them
of acts so foolish, so cruel, so killing

Each time you looked into my eyes
I feared if you saw the damning truth
But what did you see?
Did your eyes ever give you away!

And hurting you, I know, I was
But to see you walk away is the last thing I want
And baby, that’s why, I kept the truth
But it was a treacherous thing to do
Watching you from a distance, I see how it’s torturing you

There you are,
Standing, perhaps waiting, at the other side of the street
The dark night keeps me cloaked through, hiding my entity
You look up from the book just for a moment, to right where I stay rooted
My heart skips a beat! Can you feel me, so close to you?

Your fingers fumble with the pages of your book
There’s nervousness, I see, in your moves
It’s dark and deserted for the two of us
But for you, it’s just you!

I‘ve always known you to walk the distances
Then what are you waiting for? Who are you waiting for?
I’m tempted to leave my hidden stance and walk upto you
Just then a cab pulls into the drive and there you are gone

From a distance,
I see what never happened
or in my mind, it did
I did walk upto you despite the rising beat
I see you staring at me, or are you staring right through me?
What I hadn’t noticed until then, however,
Is, the smeared mascara and the dried tears on your cheeks

You carefully avert my pleading gaze
And beyond myself, I hear these words escape

I wanted to keep you close and how blind could I be?
That with every lie, I was only pushing you away
Baby, I never wanted to lose you and so I kept the truth
But now I see the fool I’ve been, because I’ve lost you anyway

Watching us from a distance
I almost believe
that you hug me, that I kiss your lips
that you forgive me, with a solemn promise

 A leaf, dried lifeless, falls at my feet
As I stand rooted, under the tree
And while I regret at the lost chances
I realize that’s how it’s always gonna be

Me, watching you from a distance
You, walking away from a distance

~~~~~~~

Asha Seth

Featured post

Is there a limit?

Is there a limit?” asked my friend who I happened to meet over the weekend. At 27, she is expecting her second baby.

We studied chemical science together. Missing lectures, attending practicals which were few and far spaced in the academic calendar, whiling away time in the college canteen, staying at each other’s places under the disguise of college submissions, wandering to unknown places, watching movies, we were more sisters than friends. Who said only blood relations come a long way? Upon graduation, while I turned the page to a professional start, she decided to get married to a man she knew for 2 years, then.

Half arranged, half in love, she stepped into a marriage I could’ve never braced at 21.

Her eyes twinkled with mirth as she narrated tales of her new life. Tales that did not stay longer to keep her happiness going. Soon, I found her smiles loaded with lies and her face a mask of hidden anguish and regrets, desperation for dead dreams so obvious that life seemed so cruel to me as an onlooker, while word by word each time she wrote the letter of resignation, resignation from hope, life, her dreams and herself, gradually inching toward closure.

My heart aches for her. Each time, every time.  Every few months when we meet, sitting face to face, at either sides of the table, opposite to each other, makes me realize how really worlds apart we have gone, we are opposite in every sense, not just in that moment but in every page, every way, every phase of life.

You’re the only one I ever had who never asked me why I did things I did. Maybe because you trusted me enough. Maybe because you never cared enough. And yet, I knew I always have you”. I watch her while she says this and also how she wished we were back in those days when missing lectures and defaulting attendance were the only regrets we had. I watch her, solemn, without a word, while she has her eyes focused on the table, her overgrown red-painted nails playing with the crumbs of bread left behind from the bagel sandwich we just finished.

She wouldn’t look at me. It was on purpose. I know she didn’t want to face me. She couldn’t face me. How would she? Wasn’t I the one who always chagrined about her marriage, her hasty decisions, persuading her to follow her dreams?

She finally looked up and large beads of tears travelled down her cheeks. Her big beautiful eyes I always teased her about were so numb, tired of the struggles of the life she accepted while least prepared. True, we can never predict nor be totally prepared to face what challenges lie ahead of us, but time teaches us a lot and of that I am sure. We need to give ourselves time. Sometimes, we make the mistake of deciding against it.

I hated her when she went ahead with her decisions. Getting married at an age one hardly even knows the responsibilities that lie ahead. I hated her when she battled against death in the dingy room of the hospital while she delivered her first baby. That she survived is only a miracle. I hated her when one after another she sliced each of her dreams for her family that hardly ever acknowledged her efforts.

And with time, she only reminded me of what she was and what she became. I can try and be nice and clap her back for all her sacrifices all those years. But, I cannot.  Because I know they’ve come for a price. Dreams traded for disappointments.

Sitting with her, watching the words escape her lips in a deadpan voice, I barely know what to say.  “Is there a limit?” she asks. “To what?” I’m tempted to ask back. “To madness, insanity, dumbness, imbecility? To what?” But I don’t because I don’t know a better way of doing this without hurting her.  So I let her speak. After a moment, she asks again, “Is there a limit to pain, disappointments, sacrifices, regrets?”

I don’t know what to say.

I go back in time to that day, the year when we were 21. A month after graduation. I wanted to tell her about the new job I’d got. And she told me she was giving up her dream to be a Math teacher; she was getting married instead. I kept a tight lid on the overflowing cauldron of happiness in my heart and took back home the surging sea of despair that I could barely suppress.

-Asha Seth

Featured post

Introspection

The best thing about spending time alone is you get to know yourself better. I’d read somewhere that ‘The only person you should be better than, is yourself‘. So that gives me a lot to think about. And therefore this ME post.

I will talk incessantly about myself. Read on. Read till it gets to your nerves.
But please move on to other awesome posts out there once it starts to annoy you.

I’ve always believed in keeping my life less cluttered. Less cluttered with regards to people, places, incidents, secrets, expectations, dreams, etc. You can’t be certain of most of them, of course, but I always try to stick to things I can’t live without. Makes life a lot easier.

I’m amazed beyond measure when I think of the quintessential greatness and vastness of nature – the universe, massive oceans, endless stretches of forests, gigantic mountains, ferocious wildlife, the beauty of flowers, deceiving nature of darkness. The creator sure is an awesome artist!

I’ve also almost always made rules than following what everyone does. Helps me discipline myself in a manner I approve of and not be too unreasonably harsh at the same time. It’s needless to say that in the process I go offending a lot of people. But it’s inevitable. We are all born different after all.

Routine life gives us a lot to ponder about. But that is possible only if you allow yourself some time. It is as important as breathing for survival and eating for strength is. I allow myself that time by walking to destinations than opting transport. So, resultantly, I walk about 4kms each day and that, if you ask me, is a lot of time to absorb things happening around you.

Of late, I have come to think of habits, practices that I’ve indulged into.

I sing aloud when I have earphones plugged in and I realise only when people stare back at me. I bump into people or parked vehicles when I am reading a book walking down the road.
I do not check myself in reflective surfaces.
I always have a mass of messy disorganized bun for hair.
I have a British accent and most times that confuses people.
I stare at guys with broad-rimmed glasses.
When I enter a building, I notice the stairs; elevators go invisible.
Most movies I’ve watched, I watched them alone.
I love my mum so much that I’d have married her were she a man, and of course, not my mother.
I adjust my glasses when I’m nervous.
I hate orange colour.
I argue on senseless bits.
I can kill someone if I find them hurting animals. 

And then I wonder at the things I have never done…

I have never written more than 2300 words at a stretch.
I have never cried out loud.
I have never lied to this man I so love.
I have never tasted carrot juice.
I have never cheated anyone.
I have never planted a tree.
I have never liked cats.
I have never read a book in one sitting.
I have never traveled atop a bus roof.
I have never worn stilettos.
I have never liked scotch.
I have never been able to hold my breath for more than 21 seconds.

And there are much more, I’m sure. Only, I’ll discover them in time. Getting to know yourself only gets better when you totally absolutely love yourself. Because you know, that no matter what, nothing can bring you to hate yourself. And most times, that’s enough to lead you through light and dark.

-Asha Seth

Featured post

Say it Anyway

Enough of holding back.
Struggling with your own self.
So what if they walk away?
Say it anyway.

It may not be worth your trial.
But you deserve the impending peace.
Enough of tormenting yourself.
Say it anyway.

Life’s unfair, as it is.
Why make it harder?
When you suffer, in wake or sleep,
who’s there to watch you weep?
Turn bitter, curse each day.
But don’t keep it to yourself,
Say it anyway.

If anything, you’ll know you were right
and in time, you’ll leave it behind.
Keeping it clutched to your heart,
will only kill you inside.

Walking away is cowardly,
staying back and watching them go
is what takes courage.
They always thought you were weaker,
it’s time you changed their mind.

~~~~~~~

Asha Seth

Featured post

Eyes tell a Story

“Why eyes?”, asked he suddenly not so curious. “Why ever not”, I enquired. Answering his less satisfied yet inquisitive look, “For the same reason as you may find lips or hair or general physique attractive”, I finished.

I find casual coffee talks quite stimulating. Especially, when you meet with old mates after a long haul. Conversations steer in all directions. Sometimes interesting, sometimes dull and well, sometimes shocking. My dear friend Julian has a queer habit of remarking about people around. He goes on about things he likes or doesn’t like about them, based purely on appearance. No one’s spared, mind you. Right from the waiter to the security guy in the parking lot, the woman at the cash till to the strangers on other tables.

Over a coffee catch-up the last weekend, we raved and ranted about everything under the sun. All the while that we spoke, I noticed that his eyes settled on a particular person before traveling through the room and back to me. I gave him a raised brow look to ask what was going on. Now, didn’t I tell you he’s weird in some manner? So here goes.

I stared at him for a full minute when he said pointing at a girl in the far corner, “I like her, she’s quite brainy”. “How on earth, do you know, she’s brainy? You haven’t spoken a damn word to her?” I asked perplexed. “I can say from the way she talks”, he ended smartly. “Besides, I haven’t seen a face like that, in a while.” “What do you mean?” I interjected. “Ah, no! I mean her fine cut facial features make her stand apart from the rest. She’s sure attractive.” Then he looked at me and acknowledging the envious look, he maneuvered, “So, what do you find most attractive in a person?”

I have always been a great admirer of eyes. And that much is known to those who know me well. Somehow the best of looks don’t get me that floored as much as someone with great eyes.  You need not be as good-looking as Leonardo or Keanu Reeves, but if you got beautiful eyes, you sure got my attention.

People with beautiful eyes attract me, eternally, at that.  If I met you for the first time, the first thing I am to get fixated with is your eyes. Because eyes always have a story to tell, secrets to divulge, things you keep clutched to your heart, eyes reveal them. I feel eyes are the ultimate holders of deep and dark secrets.

Isn’t it amazing how easily eyes give you up especially when you are trying to conceal things up? Ever tried looking into the eyes when someone tries denying something, camouflage something? Especially, during moments when you are trying to suppress an upsurge of disappointment or desperation, fear or frenzy?

I guess I’ve spoken enough about my fixation with eyes.

So what’s your story? What do you find most attractive about a person?

Asha Seth

Featured post

Create a website or blog at WordPress.com | The Baskerville Theme.

Up ↑

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 1,816 other followers

%d bloggers like this: