Dear broken heart

Dear broken heart

Nostalgic, I am beginning this letter. Amidst my moist eyes flow the carefree and bygone days of innocent and insensitive childhood.
Ah! You were so strong and lively like April days! Full of warmth, joy and hope. Weren't you? Beaming with positive energy, running like the bright rays of yellow sun. Too delighted to know the subtle nuances of life. Too occupied in your own existence.

But, the rays of this crisp and bright sun slowly yet inevitably began to change direction. Paving their way to noon. When the sun shines violently and piercingly hot! It was puberty time. You jumped into the hormonal rush. This whirlpool of hostile hormones. A few nano-grams of rise in them and love touched you.

That soft, irresistible, maddening touch of love. You lost all control over thyself. Didn't you oh my dear heart? You misunderstood and started believing life to be a bed of red roses- fresh and fragrant and dare I say you were wrong in your assumption, until one fateful day. The day when thorns of the same roses pricked you, deeply and painfully.

How can I forget the first time you broke? When eyes shed tears of turmoil, mind too numb to console you. You fell apart.There was anguish,melancholy,dejection,fury fear, hatred. Feelings seemed to be scattered and toppled over each other.
The agony was immense and intense. The year passed at an average pace and soon April days were back. What happened in between is a tale of tears, woes and hopelessness and you wouldn't want me to repeat the same to you am sure.

So the sunny April returned with a new zeal and hope! You were happy again. Humming tunes of spring and flowers and gay days. Bustling with rejuvenated energy and radiance. Ready to dance again. Ready to LOVE again!
Although somewhere a deep scar had settled which refused to heal yet you moved on.

Some months past and harsh winds of solitude knocked your door again. Chilling you nerves and shaking you all over. You broke again. This time the jolt was even more powerful, the crash louder and pain penetrated deeper.
All hopes of recovering or reinventing happiness were lost. It is the end, mind had said. But was it really?

Oh! my dearest heart I remember every single night you spent crying and wetting the pillow. Sometimes regretting, sometimes shouting and most often sitting in solitude, pondering over what went wrong. I wish I could heal you, treat you! This sickening feeling of lost love is beyond all repair. Except for time. Time is the drug we need. And strangely its about time that you understood it.
This time the scar had grown terribly. Healed only superficially. You now fear rejection and dejection. You can't love boldly but weigh in the hits and misses. You weigh the loses and love seizes to mean everything it did yesterday.

They say why O why have you turned so weak? Almost a coward? Or maybe too selfish to think beyond your own gains?
But my lovely heart, I know and I understand you. I have seen the ups and downs you faced. I feel your scar and the hidden old pain arising out of it. You are not a coward or a selfish little thing. You are vulnerable and wounded. Its almost natural to be your guard and sensible too. Although I know it still my advice may seem a little too unexpected to you. But bear with me, for I only wish the best for you.

DON'T stop loving. You are unguarded and fragile, which makes you worthy of more love. More kisses and more hugs. The risk in thinking selflessly for someone else maybe huge but believe me, thee are so many like you, wishing and waiting for someone who could gallantly face the risk.

And as they say, when you nurse a broken heart, you heal yours too. So isn't this risk worth being taken?  Get up dear heart! Pray, I ask you to walk out of that walled room and face the winter fog bravely and April shall arrive soon. Sooner than you think and when it sees you glow with so much sunshine and love, I bet its here to stay. Stay forever!

Wishing you warmth and affection
Me

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The price of love.

I have been in love with him since ages, for each time he leaves me in solitude I live a hundred years each day and uncountable memories each night.

They say, every sunset brings a new light but for me, its just another hundred years to survive before a blanket of memories- his memories, our memories traps my soul.

An irony it is! The world moves on so smoothly, unperturbed and nonchalant, while your own life suffocates and breaks every second.

The wind blows at the same pace, people laugh and love, clock ticks, trees grow and hearts beats but for me, my little world exists within. Surrounded by his memory. The words he said, those smiles we shared and an immense pain his absence has bestowed on me.

For some days, there is just numbness and coldness. Frozen and still inner self. And suddenly the volcano erupts! Too strong to be overpowered by a fragile heart. My fragile heart, on which you poked your hurts night and day, consistently and lasting forever...

No matter how hard I try to ventilate my mind, opening the windows of thoughts and emotions for other things, things that mattered and reflected concern once but are now opaque and nonchalant of even themselves. You, precisely anything and everything that has an essence of you, only has the power to hit me, shake me, wake me!

How and when in this saga of my existence did 'you' become such an omnipresent and imposing part? That little by little I see bits of my own self crumbling, shying and dying out and away.
Tired of waiting for you. Too exhausted to fight. Too meager to exist. 
Is this the reason why they call love so overpowering? I am not sure but this reason seems to be true.

I have been over shadowed by this giant called love who gripped me in his comforting hands taking me to the top of the world, high and higher till everything around became far and misty except a gush of cool air and the euphoria of being among the stars. And suddenly, this giant dropped me! Yes, he dropped me and I hit the floor lifeless. My heart lay bleeding, eyes moist , mind so confused and chaotic while my soul almost succumbed to irreparable damage. They were right when they said that 'its not the fall that hurts but its that sudden stop in the end'.
This sudden inevitable stop.
This piercing realization that neither the sky could save me nor did the ground.
And even when I lay on the kiss the floor thrashed like an insect, the giant still over shadows me.

Everything comes with a price. But the price of falling amidst this euphoria called love can't be paid off by mere mortals like me. Not in an entire life. He was right when he said 'love is priceless'. Indeed it is.

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Honey Singh, please DON'T sing!

'Music is a moral law. It gives soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, and charm and gaiety to life and to everything'.

When Plato said this about music, I am very sure that he would have ignored/excluded or maybe never heard of the 'rap music' specially those which are a fad now a days!

When I first heard a song by Honey Singh joyously being translated (since he generously tosses Punjabi lyrics in them) and appreciated by a friend of mine, a thought that ran instantly through me was - weren't the likes of 50- cents, Jay Z,Big daddy not enough to pollute the minds of youngsters and rob or rather rap(e) music of its melody and meaning that another one has been born?

Little did I know that three years down the line all I would get to hear on radio stations, college parties, marriage halls and from my younger brother are rape(d) songs of dearest 'yo yo'.
 From brown rang to blue eyes, from dope shope to 4 bottle Vodka this guy has left no stone unturned to clog the tender minds with his 'angreji beats and high heels'.

And what infuriates me the most is how these so called chart busters project the females. They are frequently labelled as bitches, bombs, sex objects, deceivers line after line in almost all his songs while the male counterpart is either as coy and innocent as a newly born child or a famous brat every girl should be familiar with and run behind.
In one of the songs he advices a girl to mix limca with her drink while in other he blames girl's high heels for all the durghatna (mishap) that happens between them.

The intensity with which these songs familiarize listeners with drugs, alcohol, sex, rape and abusive language is extremely alarming. And even more terrifying is the fact that most of the listeners lie between the age group of 10-20 years.
Imagine the kind of impact such kind of songs create on a tender boy of 10? No doubt the parents are worried and upset when they hear their bundle of joy singing songs like '4 bottal vodka kaam mera roz ka' or chanting raps with liberal use of vulgar remarks over women'.

Recently, when I expressed my desire to write on how these seemingly amusing and entertaining songs are contaminating the younger generation, my friend immediately retorted 'how could you dislike Honey singh and his songs? He is so amazing. I totally love all his songs'. On hearing such words from a girl whom I expected to me mature and a sensible citizen, I was completely taken aback.

How could she ignore the fact that her amazing Honey Singh was projecting girls like her as a sex symbol? Was she happy about being labelled as a bomb or a drug addict? Didn't calling her eyes, skin, heels, dress as an aphrodisiac and her as a slut offend her? Or maybe she was too engrossed in swaying and jumping on the beats to notice that she is being outrageously insulted?

Undoubtedly every song of Honey Singh is a hit right way because the ease with which teenagers pick it up and their catchy and foot tapping beats makes it viral among the masses. But not all that glitters is gold.
Just because a song or a singer can connect to the masses and make them feel liberated, it should not be blindly appreciated and enjoyed.
It is our duty to understand and differentiate between good and bad. Our reason gifted minds should be trained to adopt what is fruitful and reject the harmful. Even if it is a mere song! 

I am no one to force my opinions on anyone but for me, a song or singer who cannot respect me or any other woman and tries to hurl abuses at me directly or indirectly can't be called as amusing or amazing!

There is no dearth of constructive and positive entertainment around me. 
No dearth of melodious and peppy music
No dearth of songs that can lift up my spirits and create a sense of freedom within me.
And so there is no reason why I must chose to listen to you Mr. Honey Singh.

Honey Singh