Scribbles

Amidst squirrels, butterflies and other things that lie in the park They sat beneath the goolar tree away from the city’s spree. They watched goolars bitten by squirrels & dancing butterflies over the flowers. They talked, giggled talked too much then fell quite and held each other tight. swiftly, sun in the sky turned orange Birds returned home chirping It was time for them to return too. While they packed the Empty lunch box and empty bottles and love unbound. squirrels came by and ate the left over pieces  of chocolate pie- they baked together  with love last night. She said bye His eyes left something half said . When she laid on her bed In the night and shut her eyes his wide eyes came close by eyes said something that created tumult and tranquility at the same time. She couldn’t read his eyes things that remained unsaid But smiled and she slept with an unfinished sentence in his eyes.

‘Humme samman nahi samanata chahiye This phrase echoed in my head, on my way to my hostel, after attending the screening of ‘In her words’ a film by Annie Zaidi on women writing in India and discussion ‘being woman writing woman’. I was accompanied by one of my juniors whose hostel deadline was 9:00 pm. It was around 9:30 pm. No sooner had we got off from the auto than she rushed to her hostel. It’s been a month since Jamia Millia Islamia has been in news for its recent girls’ hostel diktaks. Letter that lead to this, said girls would no longer have their late nights, which girls were permitted before –though the number was laughingly two. A few of my friend stay in Jamia Hostel and seeing them I know how difficult it is to live there. They give you good food, washing machine and security but freedom. What pushed me to type this was my own tryst with university hostel. I am not a resident of jamia Hostel and I am extremely glad about the fact. But this feeling was not the s

After two years I am again caught in the topsy turvy situation , I feel chaotic from inside though from outside I appear patient. I hardly feel talking to anybody around me. I get drowned in certain emotions, but when I get out I am still not drenched. In night, I lie in my bed thinking everything and then feel depressed about nothing. I read but nothing seems to move me. It feels I have lost the larger purpose of my life in doing petty stuff. But whom should I talk to. I never discussed it with anyone, what I feel,I just wrote. Writing about someone, these days I feel that I should look out for someone, may be a companion, but, who? Is that someone really exists? Is companionship is what my heart is seeking or something else. Everybody is busy and engrossed in their own world and nobody seems to care what others have to say. Everyone wants to speak and say it loud. Life has become stagnant and it calls for a change, maybe I am not accustomed to this sort of life. My life has