So the interiors of my book arrived today and I just couldn’t help but share them with all my readers. Had you all not liked my “erratic” work, this just wouldn’t have been possible. I am so excited and at the same time so scared too!! The adrenaline and the fear pumping. My heart feels like it will leap out my mouth. But I also have this feel it will be a great road ahead.
I hope you all will buy it too from whichever platform you like to read as and when it will be available. Thankyou for always motivating me as a writer.
I hope you like the contents page. Do leave reviews about what you think of them!! Haha!! Thankyou for all the love and support. I love you all!!
I had a strange dream last night,
It was daytime,
I stood at my gate,
As you rounded the corner towards my place,
Bag in hand, you looked at me,
Oh! your charming smile had me hooked
all over again,
My heart fluttered as my eyes lowered,
Trying to hide the warm blushes,
There were emotions indescribable,
As I felt the warmth,
I hadn’t felt in ages,
My heart was where it belonged,
As my soul walked towards me,
I knew my wait was at an end,
I was complete,
I was home.
“Because my heart may belong to my hometown but yoU own my very soul. I knew it was yours to belong from the moment I first set eyes on you. – VRa”
Note: My name starts with V and the person who inspired this their name starts with U. So the initials UV, yoU- VVe.
Note: This is not related to my book. Just a fleeting thought I penned.
It was nothing new for me,
When my father hit me,
I had been disciplined since childhood,
With sticks and brooms and slaps and kicks too,
That was my parents style of venting out their anger,
And rearing the elder kid too.
I grew apart from them with time,
They never understood why I rebelled,
As I reached my teens I started losing my cool,
So it was nothing new for me,
When my father hit me.
I reached my twenties,
I found a partner and as he went through a harsh phase,
I wanted to be there for him, listening to him into the night,
It was something my father couldn’t digest,
At the age of twenty four,
It was again nothing new for me,
When my father took a stick and hit me,
I protested and I shoved him back, my mother called me crazy,
After all hitting back is not how I have been disciplined.
More than a year later I can still see the marks upon my waist,
A reminder of that ill fated day,
What had been my fault?
Was it wrong to be there for someone you love?
But then parents can do no wrong,
They have always reared us with so much love,
So I am not allowed to question them,
Or tell others the very same, what would society think of them?
And anyways also I should have been used to it,
Why would I even cry over this common occurrence?
After all it was nothing new for me,
When my father hit me,
It is just how I have been disciplined.
“Didn’t you tell him that you already know? I mean, doesn’t it hurt you?” she asked.
“He isn’t telling me probably because he doesn’t want to hurt me. What is sad is I know about the other girl, her love for books and polaroids and how fascinated he is by her. That is my folly I know a little too much for my own good. Little does he know that he is hurting me more by hiding it,” I said. “Does it hurt, you ask? It does especially when you see right through his words and excuses and how he escapes the conversations, so I try not mentioning anything that would make him lie again. His hiding stuff from me, that’s what hurts.”
It was the season of love,
In a garden full of flowers,
Surrounded by Roses and Tulips,
Carnations and Lillies,
Stood an Orchid all alone.
As the garden was raided by lovers galore,
To please their beloved,
In the name of love,
They plucked the Sunflowers and Peonies too.
But none of them entered the bog,
Amidst which the lone orchid grew,
Its bewitching beauty hidden to all.
And with its petals of delicate refinement,
It still stood tall,
With a rare yet radiant glow,
Gracious in the woodlands shade,
Proudly it stood alone.
Unknowing to all a girl had been struck,
By its solitary charm,
The next day she quietly tip toed into the bog,
Entranced by its beauty she touched its petals,
Not one to disturb its solitude though,
The Orchid she never did pluck,
Instead she planted a few more bearing the same unique charm,
In the shade of that mucky bog,
Just so it wouldn’t be alone,
At the onset of the next season of love.
P.S.: I know the flower in the photograph is not an Orchid but a Hibiscus. Orchids are my favourite flowers and this picture was the closest I could get to a picture with a flower and also the theme of the poem. Thankyou!