I glanced at the flower shop from the cab’s window. Beautiful, radiant flowers. Part of life’s triumphant moments and sorrows alike. We bring them to birthdays to celebrate life, and to funerals to mourn death. I couldn’t help but wish that the people in our lives were more like flowers. I couldn’t help but wonder how life would be if people remained a part of our lives and stood by us in our lows as they do in our highs. That they’d be with us when we are at our worst, as they are when we are at our best. Maybe then, not just life, we would be different.
Yayyyy I won I won!
Just got to know that I won the write-up competition held in my organization on Independence Day. Super duper happy!
Here is what I had sent in : (Topic was, what does freedom mean to you. Word limit 100 words)
Freedom, to me, means, being able to enjoy my independence.
But in my opinion, freedom will be realized when every citizen is free. I will celebrate when I won’t see children working as labor. I will celebrate women aren’t being burnt to death. I will celebrate when girls can choose what to study, whom to marry, what to wear. I will celebrate when every girl child is allowed to live. Then we can say we have independence. Independence from ignorance and hatred.
I’m not cynical. I’m proud of my country. I want more. I dream bigger dreams for my motherland.
He kissed her goodnight. The wonderful evening had ended. It was a good thing it ended with a good kiss.
That’s the thing about good dates. She wondered if she was falling in love with him. Or if she was falling in love with having someone to walk on the beach with. To share dessert with. She wondered, when we love someone, do we really love them, or the wonderful time we spend with them? Is that why long distance relationships don’t work? Because people love the times together, and not each other? But then, she knew people who had the most horrible times with each other yet they were together. Maybe they were in love with the pain. More like addiction. People know drugs are bad for them yet they do them. Some relationships are like that. You just cannot kick the habit.
Nostalgia is a funny thing. It can strike you at the oddest times. At the strangest places. With familiar smells. Familiar sounds. You see old faces in new ones. You find comfort in new surroundings. At the end of the day, our memories are our masters. And best friends too.
As the cigarette in her hand burned, she thought of her life, burning away. The smoke of her dreams and hopes, only she could see. She knew deep down that just like the cigarette, she had lit up her life on fire herself. She had no one to blame. No one had offered her the lighter. She had been carrying it all along. Her mind, her bizarre world of thoughts, her twisted reflections, they were the flame. And so she smiled. Because now she knew what to do. She took one last drag, threw away the half smoked cigarette, and listened to “Coming Back to Life”.
Songs that I sang for you. Places that remind me of you. People who look like you. The new friend I made through you. The new drink you made me try. The color I only wore because it was your favorite. The red lipstick you bought me. The cards I bought for you and never sent. I have everything, but you.