Wish I Could..

6tag_120716-120400.jpgI wish never to get nervous when speaking ;
I wish to fetch words exactly ,
I wish to share my story .
I wish to stare sunset & sing memories ;
I wish to get inspired by calamity,
I wish to boom to reality.
I wish never to quit what I starts,
I wish everyone to listen me.
I wish to be firefly;
As to burn my hope till the dawn & then die, eventually.


Summer Love.

..then the sky turned dusty brown. Her eyes danced with clouds movement and thoughts whirled in the cloudy haze sipping coffee.

She sat on the chair and watched lusty sky ; a weather to fall for.
Droplets dangling the metal grille said, “Aye! Set up words and pen them down in Diary.”
She was blank as the fresh page meanwhile few droplets descended on the opened diary resting on her lap.
Forcing her for wordshaping.

She smiled.
“Yes!  About the Sky being lover of the Earth.”
“Earth as She and Sky as He!”
” Sky conquering nature for Earth?”
“About Summer love?”
It’s that time of year, when writers look up for words of beauty and poets talk to weather. From pen pricking dusty dreams to soil rising, swirling and settling.

She stared at alabaster clouds. Stared until the dry land damned life and scrounged for love ; whereas rain quenches the thirst by  showering love twirlingly , showed presence.

‘ This reunion glittered her eyes.’
” I will lock your love-story in words.” She whispered.

Slight drizzle stroked her skin and made her numb.
Numb to their heartache, numb to their epic meeting.

“Ever seen lovers like We?”
She nodded.
“Ever seen such despairful lovers ?”
She nodded again.

“How you both inclined ?”
She asked.

The breeze blew gently and mizzled .

” How she accepted your proposition?”
She mumbled.

The drib tickled her cheeks like crying.
“Doesn’t she beg you, your time?”
She rustled.

The bolts of lightning sparked; thunderclaps streaked.  Clouds turned wicked and shadowy.

She stirred up.

“May be your wrath is beyond her control; still she’s tied up to the knots of heart abiding by redeem.”
The wind blew ferociously , dampened soil’s fragrance captivated  so as not to interrogate her lover.

She smiled.
“Promises adhere to each other.”

She mumbled.
” How unconditional is their love. But I’ve seen people stabbing in love.”

By letting the faith and love of the Divine take over  hearts as my arrogant head bows in humiliation.

The dew drops rolled down her cheeks and fell on her inked diary.

The shower sprinkled, stitching her wounds.

She questioned.
” How kind is you? Kindness.”

Cure overcame pain , so does word.

She sighed with grieve. Rain disappeared. Ground mucked up with filth.
And with the blink ,there was silence again with pleasant sensations around.

She rested her head on wrist and closed her eyes to cherish their love again.

-Sa’Naa 👻.



“Bread feeds the body, indeed, but flowers feed also the soul.”

She quoted the verse of ‘The Qur’an’ in a firm voice. Her face was calm and still ,continuously staring those pretty fiery flowers in the summer air.

It’s Gulmohar galore, captivating her sight ; whilst Gulmohar is a beauty to behold alike daffodils.
She stood gazing Gulmohar laden tree with scarlet bright flowers is quite a site to behold. For nothing else is more enchanting to her than the flamboyant flowers midst skies indulging to dusty with winds  under sunny radiant Sun.

Bewitched by  the gulmohar’s flowers , she paused for thought of her mesmerizing childhood memories glittering in her eyes ; playing hide and seek behind the tree’s truck, climbing to stronger branches, plucking red flowers and making vermillion for doll’s wedding, dismantling the flower bud to make spooky nail extensions, colouring with it’s anther dust …
the memories are endless.

“mumbling out her secrets .”

She flinched and All the wrinkles returned to their original place.
She heard the sigh of the breeze in the trees . These crimson dots swaying on tree , appeared to her like brilliant flames dancing like graceful dames with vermilion.
Thought process squeezed  her mind to pen down on these carmine firing buds which holds and beholds many UNTOLD STORIES.

As these bright red dotted awns had continually inspired the poets , artists,writers and everyone in touch with any form of art.

From poet’s celebrating its flaming glory to painter’s reliving the scarlet moments in vivid stroke and writers gathering streaks of madness, purity and serenity for all to see …

Gulmohar’s reds are the colors to die for Red is her weakness ;
As Gulmohar soothes her soul !

She smiled and crossed the boundary, separating herself from the  world in her dreamy fascinating story.

“They bloom as does the hope and consoles the heart .”

“She murmured.”

“Guess what ?”

They’re glory to bloom. They tinge life with vibrant promises , reason she’s hypnotized with Gulmohar.

“Her eyes glinted a wonderful admiration.”

Bewitched by the gulmohar’s flowers, her mind echoed that it’s color harbinger of good times.
” They grow out of dark moments?”

She questioned herself.

“How they End?”

By withering and falling on the asphalt road.

“Nature laughed.”

In the dark she had to depend on fragrance  and on her senses of writing and thinking.
She drooped her sight to her knuckles..
And  hold the pen to praise every painted stroke . As  pen has to roll over paper to bleed and scribble the beauty in applauses.

– Sa’Naa 👻.


There come people in your life that bring out the stars in you. Then there are these people who bring out the dark in you. Then in the end, there come those people who bring out the extremes of everything in you.
Faces fade away with time. Maybe they just change on the harsh strokes of time. Maybe nothing fades away and its just we who drown in our ignorance with a hope to find relief. With a hope to find release.
You may forget the faces. It’s okay to forget the faces. But, you can not forget the feeling they bring to your heart. You can not avoid their scent that hugs you in their absence.
The feeling is what we call “Home”, the scent is what we call “wind”.

“How does it feel like to be with him?”
I asked as I sat by her side.

She sat by her lake with her feet soaked into the cool water. The moonlight gleamed over the water and her ankles sparkled on the surface.

“It’s like a flame left on the mercy of night wind. It flickers and gets bright and sometimes it dwindles upto non-existence whenever the wind embraces its warmth.”
She replied. I knew that she would tell only the stars part and that’s all she told.

“Your eyes weave dreams.”
I tried to show my admiration.

“It’s him that resides in them.
If that’s what you call dream.”
She smiled and kept on plucking the petals from a fallen rose.

“Are you afraid that your dreams might break? Are you afraid you might lose him?”
I asked.

“No, I am not.”
She plucked off the last petal. It fell into her lap with all the other petals.

“Are you afraid of anything?”
I asked differently.

She looked straight into my eye.
“I am afraid of losing myself while being with him. Which I am sure that I will. Which I am sure that I am.”

This is how devoting yourself to love is. You lose yourself, let it be your material posessions, let it be your soul, let it be your dreams, let it be your faith.
Devotion is toxic yet it calms your heart like nothing else can.

Queen of May 👑

We wake up having our heads heavier and hearts weak. Nothing seems to heal, nothing seems to end. Neither when we sing nor when we pray with our head bent.

Maybe one day the sleep will betray us too and maybe one day it’ll leave us in death’s hue. I try to be poetic about my agony but the words are reluctant to dance in symphony.
All I see is my blood losing it’s color. The sun is going blur and I can’t see  clear.
April showers bring May flowers.
May the stars carry your sadness away ,May the flowers fill hearts with beauty, and above all ,May silence make you stronger .
Since, ardent imagination really need is a little Peace ✌
Only if the life was li’l catastrophic and devastated.


Ultimate Truth

In the end, nobody’s gonna be there to remember you.
In the end, all the inks we bleed into words are gonna fade away in the wind of time.
In the end, you will just be a part of dust.
No worldly thing has ever stayed, no worldly thing ever will.
We’ll all become the part of an abandoned, worn out story.
In the end, there will prevail no one but, the ultimate Truth.


There will come a time when I’ll be flying high up in the sky, let it be my own sky or the sky gifted to me by love.

Then there will come a time when I’ll be banged hard back on the tough ground; the reality.
The goal is to hug the ground when all it has ever done to me is bruising my knees and wounding my soul. The object is to smile on remembering what I have when I am left with nothing but, ash. The achievement is to collect my blood Irrespective of the fact that it stains my palms.
The aim is contentment.
This is from where my story starts. This is where my story will end.

-Sa’Naa 👻.