People

                                                                    I hate this feeling of Emptiness . I hate it because . . . It’s the only time I have to deal with myself. The conversations I have within myself are so stretched and dreaded that it comes to a point where I start questioning every relationship, I ever had . . .  Emptiness does this trick on you and its really a bad one. . . It stops you from blinking fast. From a Rocket to a fucking snail. You either lie down or sit on a chair or may be, if you are gutsy enough to go the terrace and stare at the blues, you’ll always find yourself at the spot where you are waving goodbyes with a hope of them coming back. Memories are pretty overrated if you ask me. They have been conditioned to only one thing and that is to knock you down and make you bleed until you ask “What would kill me?” and with an upper cut as an answer it will always whisper “ ME ”. These are the days where you’ll start looking for that comfort pillow of yo

                                                                                Day 1   It was her spot. The window, the little sunlight, and yesterday’s newspaper. Her chair was as old as her but still stubborn when putting pressure on. Her surroundings were quite pleasing to anyone’s eyes. The ever-burning fragrance sticks were for her  Little Lord Krishna so that he doesn’t have to breathe what we breathe. The Gold on her was minimal, with a couple of bangles on her right hand and a moonstone ring on her pinky. The spectacles and its old case almost represented her entire existence. To even imagine what all stories even her glasses would’ve wanted to tell, fascinates me.   “Aaji? Oye! Aaji”   It was her habit to never respond immediately if someone addressed her because she believed that would make her look like an idle person waiting for some attention but In her head, she was always working towards building a ladder that would end at Lord Krishna’s feet. A Stairway to heaven.   “A