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Nothing Missing

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Undone.
Incomplete.
Something missing.
We think we are pieces of a puzzle,
You and I.

Faith.
Hope.
The last of our expectations.
immersed in the notion of something
that will fulfill us.

We are so intrigued with this idea
of someone
Completing us.
Healing us.
Filling us.

Sometimes I wonder…
Maybe we were born whole,
not nuts and bolts.
not a jigsaw puzzle.
nothing missing.

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Worldly Cage

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All things that begin
must come
to an inevitable end.
A cry of distress,
in an unfamiliar world
and hence begins life.

Some live for a 100 years
without being alive
for even
a second of it.
We are our own undoing.
Blessing or tragedy?

Stop and smell the roses,
they say.
Maybe I should
become that rose
and carry that beauty
within me.

I wish to forge
my own path.
Untethered, free and wild.
Liberated from this worldly cage,
and when Death finally finds me
may it find me alive.


The other day, I came across an African proverb : “When death comes to find you, may it find you alive.”

We spend a lot of our lives being held back by trying to become what we think others expect us to be. We let ourselves be trapped in a cage.

Our soul knows what it wants. At this very moment, it’s speaking to you. Listen. Then go do it, grab it, live it.

Something went wrong with my WP a few days ago, and this got posted before I was done editing it. I removed it as soon as it happened, but a few of you had already read it and left comments. I’m sorry I had to delete that post because it just wasn’t ready. This is the final and improved version!

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Unfurled Parchments

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She was a pristine enigma
In a world of unfurled parchments
A jigsaw puzzle of a million pieces
some discovered, some missing

There were facets of herself
she was yet to fathom
There were mysteries and riddles
she was yet to answer

Far and wide she went
Seeking, deseperately, some lucidity
Praying for the fulfillment
she didn’t know she needed

Drained and exhausted
she ended the ardurous voyage
Only then did she realize,
her answers lay closer

She found them in her heart,
in the hearts of people she loved,
inscribed in the pages
of love letters of her youth

She found them hidden
between the pages of an old book,
in the embrace of her family
and the scent of her home.

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The Cosmos

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We carry the universe within
We are the cosmos
stardust in the veins,
a collection of dead stars.

Splendor and magnificence flowing
light seeping through each pore.
Shackles of gravity chasing us
our being chooses to be untethered.

Nothing but a hoard of ordinary atoms
bound by opulence and beauty.
Our actuality is ephemeral
in the perpetual history of time.

We carry the universe within
We are the cosmos
until we wash away into oblivion
cessation of life – nothingness.

~Nikita Gill (Google Images)
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Mindless Musings #4

Ever so often we find ourselves looking for people, places, memories and opportunities that make our hearts ache. But in a good way.

Some find happiness in running after that feeling, chasing it in bars and discos. Jumping off cliffs only to have a trace of its grandeur. Intoxicated by its scent in foreign skies and seas.

Some find solace in the hope that it will come to them. That all they must do, is believe in its power, its possibility, and trust it with all their heart, and the wait will be worth it.

That feeling is what makes the World go round.

Earth, our home, found it in its path around the Sun.
Sun, our star, found it in its luminosity and illumination.
Water, our sustenance, found it wrapped in the bonds between hydrogen and oxygen.
Wind, our cosmos, found it in the chirp of every bird that beautifies it.
Fire, our energy, found it in the oxygen that strengthens it.

Sometimes, it comes in our early years. Others spend ages feeling incomplete.
Sometimes, it comes right when you need it. Others learn that it has the worst timing ever.
Sometimes, it comes when you’re ready to hold on. Others are caught completely off guard.

I made a wish for that feeling, then placed it in my soul.

I promise to welcome its immensity and its enormity the next time we bump paths.

Images from Google Images

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The Cliff

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Hearts, hammering and hurting
Soundless prayers, begging
Unfamiliar nausea, flooding over
Strength, emerging from the tears

In the distance :
A shrill, piercing screech
striving to tear
through the peripheral traffic.

Another day, Another tragedy,
Another life in the balance.
Another life hanging by the cliff.

Wanting to hoist itself above
when there’s only enough to let go
A combat for another breath
Life, the only war spoil

In the distance :
A fleeting image of an ambulance,
A whizz of sirens defying all odds
A cascade of orisons and hopes.

Another day, Another tragedy,
Another life in the balance.
Another life hanging by the cliff.

Steady then Shaky.
Erratic at best.


A few days ago, I stood by my balcony, talking on the phone. And during that 20 minute phone call I heard 4 ambulances rushing by. That is where I found my inspiration to write this. We are currently surviving in trying times. Things will get better. I am proud of all of us for facing them! More power to us.

P.S I am so sorry for not being able to be up to date with all my reading. I have been busy with exams for the past week.

But I am back now! Looking forward to hearing from all of you and reading more of your amazing pieces!

All my love and hugs to you guys! Stay safe.

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Mindless Musings #3

Image from: Study.com

A bonfire, a friendship and a paradox. Three unrelated entities that came together. This is a story of how.


Completely different yet somehow bizarrely functional, such was our connection.

This is how I met The Boy Who Loves Bonfires.

Click.Tap.Click.Tap.Click.Tap.
I had come up with a rhythm to which I bobbed my head, sitting impatiently. It was yet another day in a class I wasn’t very fond of. Don’t get me wrong, I was great at the subject.The class, however,was a borefest.

There is always that one class where no one pays attention. Everyone is either dozing off or daydreaming. The latter is more my thing.

The seat next to me was unoccupied…until, it just wasn’t. My daydream came crashing down when I heard the sound of metal screeching as
the seat next to me was pulled backward.

Within seconds, a complete stranger who I had occasionally seen in the hallways, sat next to me.

That is probably the most boring and cliched starting to what became one the most beautiful friendships of my life.

While I admit that the beginning was awkward and rocky, a few months later we were inseparable.

“The Boy Who Loves Bonfires,” such was his epithet.

Bonfires? I mean what’s so out of the blue about bonfires?

Fire. An element of life, a symbol of damnation, a source of energy, the hallmark for death. A purifier and a destroyer.

A paradox.

In the last sacrament of life in many cultures, corpses are burnt. Day after day, countless people die, yet the living wish to live forever.

The bodies of the dead are burned as they depart on a journey to whatever lies in the afterlife. Smoke stacks choke the skies.

The holy element of fire is hence linked to the end of a loved one’s journey amongst the living.

Fire, then becomes eerie and sinister to many people.

While my friend envisaged a starry night, sitting across a bonfire, with blankets and marshmallows.

The heat from the fire soothing the frigid air and the shivering toes. Consuming, devouring, annihilating the wood in order to stay alive.

Orange flames cackling while they dance, throwing vivid shadows and shapes under the dark of the night.

Its reflections in the eyes of the people gathered around, whispering secrets as its warmth caresses each soul.

Burning with the valiant desire to breathe. It reminded him of the beauty of being alive, each day.

“We can complain that rose bushes have thorns, or rejoice that thorns have roses,” while I had heard this many times, The Boy Who Loves Bonfires brought it to life and made me live it.

The Boy Who Loves Bonfires taught me a way of life.

I like to think of fire as the calm before a storm. Sometimes, the storm strikes and there is death, devastation, and loss to deal with. Sometimes, the storm passes over. It doesn’t strike. On those days, there is relief, warmth, calm and joy that the fire itself spreads.

I wonder sometimes, does fire know of its power? To create and destroy. Or does it remain an oblivious paradoxical element.

A paradox contradicts itself. It has various faces to it. The one we choose to focus on arbitrates much of our lives.

This I learned from him.

Who would have thought that a friendship that began in the dullest possible way would spark a fire. Dazzling and alive.