My baby just grew up!!

Last year in December, I gathered my courage and dived into this amazing and exciting world of blogging! I decided to publish the chapters from a story I wrote three years ago.

For me, the blog was just an escape! Honestly speaking, I could have never imagined the kind of response that the story received and since then, the journey has been nothing but magical!

Because of the lovely support from all of you, the ‘writer inside me’ got the opportunity to venture into the realms of poetry and I found my home there!

This blog and all the lovely people who have joined me here in the community, mean a lot to me! “From the quill” changed everything and it is the best thing that has ever happened in my life till now!

But, with all the bittersweet emotions in my heart *cue emotional music*, I have decided to leave that title behind and change the name of my beautiful baby *self-obsessed mom* *hehe* to “Life in yellows”

You don’t have to follow or subscribe again! It’s just a change in the domain name and the aesthetic of the blog! You will keep on receiving notifications regarding new posts and the content will still be literary and poetic!!

I am so happy to have you along on this wonderful journey! Your love and support mean the world to me!

So, without further ado, let us begin with the new chapter!

Shall we?

 

Abyss

Have you ever stared down the demonic depths of a dingy abyss?

Or

Have you ever felt that sudden urge to resign…when those dark eyes of lucid heights call you?

If not… then allow my words,
To take you,
Through the tranquilizing horror,
And the anxiety-ridden silence,
Of that moment.

That moment when life knocks you down,
You hit your head on the cold and rough floor;
The world goes dead;
Your feet go numb;
Your eyes meet the dark;
And your ears…
Your ears embody those maniacs,
Who talk to the hushed nights
And claim to have learnt the secrets of life.
Those maniacs might be poets!!

Anyhow…

That moment, my friend…
Can be the death of your soul.
That moment, my friend…
Can bequeath you with scars…so deep;

So deep…
That an artist won’t shy away before carving them onto a stone and shouting out loud,

“Has the world ever seen a carve so abstract?”

You… my friend,
Will be standing in that crowd of mute spectators,
About to raise your hand to claim that,

“This is the relic to my crippling agony!”

But…
Those words will never leave your lips;
Your teeth will bite your tongue before it sins to let them out!

Why?

Because…
When you take your pain and pour it onto those words;
When those words escape your mouth and reach some ears;
Then… your pain comes to life;

It becomes your “Forever”!

– Gauri Walecha

Dawn

The night smothered you,
With the smoke that rose above,
The burnt remains
Of your tender heart.

Now…
Now, your lungs ache,
Your guts lie,
Tied in knots,
Churning,
Wringing your life out of you.

Coiled like a foetus,
Drenched in tears,
Is that you?
Who carved these scars
Deep… in the tenders of your skin.
Is that a memoir
To your unworthy sin?

Pulling your hair,
Clenching your jaw,
Is that you?
Who strangled that beauty,
Over the rotting remains,
Of the fantasy of a paradise?

I know…
I know my friend,
You’ve waited for the dawn…
Like the staunch nightingale,
Waits for the last of the amber,
To fade away.

Don’t you fall prey,
To your bouts of fear!
Don’t you dare concede,
To the taunts,
Blurted by the deadly demons,
Of your crippling anxiety…!

For…
The dawn mustn’t shine
On your grave….

– Gauri Walecha

Thank you so so much!!

6 months ago, I remember writing this post for the milestone of 500 followers. Trust me, I was definitely at cloud nine and that’s where my obsession with the follower count subsided.

I had no idea, that I’d be reaching the next milestone so early.

For me, it’s not just a follower count, but this blog and the blogging community means much more than just numbers. This blog is the best thing that has happened to me in life so far.

I am so grateful for all of you and for the amazing support. It is such a pleasure to have you here on this journey and it’d be my honour to have you along even in the future.

Thanks for stopping by and taking the time to read, comment and follow.

I hope that I have been providing you with some quality content.

With lots of love,

Gauri Walecha.

Ghosts…

“Do you believe in ghosts?”

Yeah…

They live in my closet,

And yours too,

Don’t they?

There are nights, when I wake up,

Lying in this pool of sweat,

Or… is that blood?

I never chose to know…

Those eerie nights, I hear then growl,

Or… is that, their kind of a scream?

I never chose to know..

They must stare at me, from the creek and crevice,

Of the worn wood,

To know that, I am trembling with fear,

To know that, they need to howl,

Sing those tears.

There are days when I hear them knock,

Knock on my mind,

Knock me, off my ground,

In a ditch of worms,

Eating me up.

Perhaps… they’ve been dead since the dawn of the last summer,

But they are waiting for me,

To bury them,

… And, what am I waiting for?

The night of the next winter?

They are dead, yet alive enough,

To have an appetite,

To fantasise a feast,

the want… to feed on my soul.

They are dead, yet alive enough,

To be ridiculed for their deeds,

To be cursed for the gore,

Yet… to be called a part of my heart,

The corpse of a dead Ghoul.

– Gauri Walecha

Folly…

Deep…

Deep down in my heart;

Buried in my soul;

Are the truths to my lies…

Lies…

Those lies which I hurl;

Hurl at the world,

When folks try to sneak in,

Through my lamenting eyes;

Seeking the way to my vulnerable

heart…

Vulnerabilities…

They are an enigma, aren’t they?

In this world, we conspire…

Force people to bare their fragility;

But strive to armour ours…

We…

We are fools…

And the pursuit of power and strength;

That’s our folly…

The bait in the rat race,

Is nothing…

But, the most splendid of all the lies,

That ever escaped the mouths of the “Wise”…

For… the forts;

They were never our strength,

But a futile attempt, an illusion…

Played at the invader,

An attack on his frailty…

For… Not even a single ounce of blood,

Was shed for victory…

But… we bled our way to the doomed oblivion,

Just to run away from defeat…

– Gauri Walecha

Masquerade

Studded with gems, crafted with gold.

A lustre so bright… the moon held an intent to conspire the world against it.

A smile so kind… the ink stopped bleeding praises for a mother’s heart.

Eyes so deep… no man could quieten his curiosity to explore the mystic realm behind.

No sculptor’s hands would have dreamt of carving a nose so sharp.

The brow screamed the wisdom that the charming silhouette promised to behold.

It was a mask… Oh! So fine!

It must have taken the nobility of a prince.
It must have taken a heart, as pure as ash… to be honoured with such an adornment.

Or, so the world believed… until a harsh blow of wind claimed rebellion and knocked the mask off.

The crime was “Contempt of the royal visor”…

The wind wasn’t guilty…

But, the appalling sight that followed, it poisoned the air.

It was a corpse for a face.

Deep dark ditches for those beautiful eyes.

A long sharp thorn for the finest of the noses.

A rotten scab for that skin of gold.

Folks yelled curses, hissed at the ghoul.

Babies wailed with fear as they hugged their mothers.

“To boycott and shun the guest of dishonour”, was the court’s way to bring justice.

The trial would have been the ghastliest of them all…

Only if, another masked man wouldn’t have stepped into the arena.

Only if, another gleaming piece of gold wouldn’t have inebriated the eyes of the rank and file.

‘cause, who frowns at the evil when they get to gasp for the artistry.

The world has a way to forget justice for glory.

– Gauri Walecha

That book…

That rugged and withered wooden door…it stood in front of me as it greeted my somber mask… A mask, my soul wore with pride.

My hand reached out for the door knob and rested at it for a while.

I stared at my hand….with eyes hollow enough to engulf the world around me.

Paying my due respects to the time I wasted for this inane ritual, I tightened my grip and opened the door…. closing my eyes, for…I expected to meet a sharp and piercing glare.

But… Rather…I was welcomed by ostracizing darkness.

I stepped inside the room, unknown to the world that lay ahead.

My fear would have paid the merchants well… The room lit up, as bright as a jovial day… as soon as I stepped in.

I was in the middle of a sea of books… both, bulky and thin.

Yes… It was a library… except, this one wasn’t preaching me some modern science. They called it, “The library of life”.

A book called me out. It was the frailest of them all… Its cover was as dark as nothing.

I pulled it out. The cover refused to share an essence to the wisdom ahead, hence… tempting me to dive into the book.

I followed suit, out of grave curiosity.

A cruel flash of light fell on my eyes, forcing me to turn my face away.

The mystic gleam, soon, faded away… and, I… I dared to look at the only page.

It was, but, a mirror.

Engraved at the top, was a sentence that must always echo in my head…

“For once, you may challenge the facts, but the wise don’t question ordeal.”

That was the greatest book of them all.

It compelled me to read myself.

– Gauri Walecha

The sinners…

The thunder is the sinner… It sins to defy the clouds. It roars for the agony, yells curses at the gloom.
And oh! How the world gasps at the sight of that war!

Those tiny drops of water… the ones to abandon the magnificence of the heavens… the ones to fall on the loathed and barren fields. They will be cursed for their compassion!

Those clouds… those cruel and audacious clouds, they just deprived the world of its light. They dared to contempt the sun. They will be doomed with the wrath of coward hearts… The ones who are scared of the dark.

These winds… they must be held for causing bereavement. They left another house in drought. They left the thirsty throats suffering… dry and choking… to bring rains to another land of arid torture.

All of these… they are sinners.

Guilty…

They must be sued…

For caressing the wounds of the broken hearts…
For bringing love to the despised…
For bringing peace to the devastated…
For bringing hope to the forlorn…

That is how the world works…
We need to follow the law of the land…

– Gauri Walecha

The battle…

It was a dark and lonely night.

The sky would have been a vision to behold with all the lovely stars, and a bright full moon…. if…. only if, it wasn’t bequeathed with an awning of heavy storm-ridden clouds.

The air was taught… It prophesied a demonic storm.

There I was, beside the lake… kneeling down.

My arm bled…body covered in scars and bruises.

My hand, pressed against my chest as I gasped for breathe.

My eyes squinted as the pain rendered me numb and senseless.

Everything seemed like a blur.

In front of me, my sword had lain for years, waiting for me…. desperate for victory.

It was a blade of Honor, it shone with brilliance, a luster like no other…. except, now, its shine was a gleam of crimson…for…it was now drenched in blood.

I gathered my strength. My body lost its power, but …. I couldn’t have lost my desire to conquer.

I stood up… Limping….my legs quivered.

My hands clinched around the hilt of the blade.

I swayed it, in all the ways known to my kind…. like a sloshed fool … hoping to kill my rival, once and for all.

But…alas, the knights of obscure wisdom shouldn’t dream the dreams of their reign.

Another sword came flashing, piercing through the air. The assailant aimed at my calf and knocked me down.

I was lying there… helpless… grunting curses at the silhouette of my enemy.

Suddenly, the clouds withdrew their rebellion.

The Moon enlightened the world… revealing the face of my opponent.

It was me.

I hated myself.

– Gauri Walecha