Bit by bit.

Via The Daily Prompt : Substandard

“We used substandard feelings. No wonder it collapsed.

Maybe the love we had was flawed, or maybe it wasn’t love after all, only a current of infatuation shaking us from where we were before because love means giving, but all we did was take everything from each other.

Maybe the warmth of your hands on my cheeks made my spine cold enough to make me drift away from you.

Maybe your mellifluous voice wasn’t the only thing needed to attract me in a room full of people.

Maybe good night texts that you sent didn’t leave me awake all night thinking of how I lucky I was to have you.

Maybe when I told you that I would wait for you forever, you put all your efforts measuring it.

Maybe it wasn’t what I thought it was.

Maybe we used substandard feelings, no wonder it collapsed. ”
Am I still supposed to force myself into believing that? 

Ultimate happiness is homemade.

“I saw it. The most beautiful of smiles. I still wonder how could a simple human like me, be able to produce that on two other faces?
Whenever I see them, those pretty smiles, I feel that I’ve had the world. My little achievements, my happiness, all contributing into making that smile a little broader everytime. The smiles are my shelter on the rainy days. The forever stretched arms are what I’ll always be homesick for. The aloo ki sabzi and the chapati, never stale, is the food I still miss when I see pizza. The clothes crumpled in the cupboard and the unkempt bedroom remind me of the cloth hangers and the unslackened bedsheet of my own bedroom. The laptop beside the coffee cup reminds me of the common tv and the chai in the evening. I hear cars and peddlers and people, and I close my eyes, and there I remember the stillness of the air, the squad that used to gather on the terrace everyday, playing badminton even in the summers. And I see, my hand being pulled, to take me home as it gets dark. I resist but the force was strong enough. As I open my eyes, I see the sky getting darker and darker like some artist colouring his canvas with shades of grey and then finally black.


And I start thinking about me, about us. This generation, of which I’m a part of, which is too afraid of commiting, too afraid of having something permanent, too afraid of having a family, too afraid, maybe a little too afraid. Amidst of the life we live, maybe we forget sometimes, that family is all we’ve got when we’ve got none. That in life, it’s important to be free, to fly but it’s necessary to have someone to hold your back whenever you’re tired of flying. It’s important to have a house, but it’s necessary to have a home. It’s good to be yours and only yours, but it’s beautiful to be someone’s.