Writer's Clan

Storms And Tranquility.

Part One.

He counted the lights in the urban city down the lane while I counted his scars. I wondered how he smiled so often with those heavy stitches on his lips. He said these were the consequences of bottling up too many secrets within himself. I always felt a very strong connection with him for we shared most of the cuts, those upon the soul. These scars were only for the body but on the inside, they were wounds that would rot me to death. He made my wounds shine over its cracks and told me how I was so beautiful with them on my skin. I used to believe that the world was dark, hiding deepest secrets behind every face. He told that it was the bright glint in my eyes that was eclipsed by the darkness and negative vibes of some undeserving people. I used to believe that my past followed me only to haunt me as I kept closing all doors to keep myself away from it, but he called me from behind a closed door and asked me to learn from my mistakes. I was a mess with all broken threads of trust, he was the magic that tied all knots to one that lead me to him. I sulked over the thought that I was better off alone with the fire within me. He took me to the darkest places where I learnt to become my own source of satisfaction. I was raised with the myth that a girl and a boy could have only a love tangent with each other. Here, I am standing on the top of the world having him for a lifetime as a friend. The two minds with a set of different thoughts where I felt we met by destiny and he claimed destiny was just an illusion.
“It’s our pain that found each other.” He said.

~Simran Riyaz

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All About the Lens, Writer's Clan

At Peace

 

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Jamia Millia Islamia, New Delhi

 

Past through the maze of steels and bricks

I have come beyond the cradle of nature.

No raindrop kiss on my head,

No promise of a blissful lullaby,

Just my solitude, at peace.