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A CONVERSATION WITH BATHROOM- AMBER BLUE

[ I know , I am not a little but a whole lot late this time for the update curtsey to my phasing in and phasing out but now I shall try to be loyal with my blog and to all of you who are reading our posts and taking your time to comment, you have given me a push forward all over again!! here's the new update, in the hopes that it would entertain you till the end!] Bathroom: PLEASE NO… No… Not again…!! *me comes inside my bathroom* Me:- no… I mean why on earth is growing up so chaotic , I mean you have to go through all the shakespearean seven stages of life without the mercy of a single option and when you are ‘legally adult’ phir toh tauba tauba!! The 18s and 19s are such frail ages, drenched with dilemma , bafflement ,volatility and you name it. No, the problem is we , the 18s and 19s are placidly stable , I don’t know about the others, atleast I am. Placidly stable in a psychiatric sort of way if not financially until I am tagged as weirdo and NOT apparently suitable fo

Nobita will be Nobita - Amber Blue

What it is to be talentless you ask? – what it is to walk amidst the crowd of a flawless world being NOBITA!? when even your ripen good old heart does not stand out to be called on the aisle, nobita was rather the antagonist but we are not ready to ruin our childhood, for believing in fairy tales and a 22 nd century robot cat has given the talentless hopes beyond reasons even if they are delusional. Yet, the shakespearen tragedy is not all nobitas have their doraemons! Saving ruffin, the dolphin or protecting RIRURU like some shield hero have soared up the TRPS, but nobita is still our crybaby, just a knucklehead stupid boy helpless without gadgets and parents would still moralize their kids on ‘how you may end up like nobita if you watch him all day’. It is what feels like to be talentless! Either you are born with talent in a silver spoon or you make your own talent to be etched out as examples, those stuck in between are like those trapped in multiple dimensions. Stumbling wi

A Beautiful Obese! - Amber Blue

The twilight that transcended me into this made me stumble upon aficionades who got me convinced that ohh!! I am an obese. And now I shall be fooling myself by pretending to savour the summer breeze For my happiness has gone to a night walk since I have gotten obese. People say I eat too much- but ohh! All the efforts of this nefarious world shall drown in futile for two lovers food and I are inseparable . Food to me is like the pastel touch of rain on the unfed petals , food to me is like the pristine smile of a sinless child, food to me is an oracle showing me the dancing lights. And yet the truth is I eat too much and in repentance my heart often sighs, but the uncompromising so ul obscures the truth that yes, I am obese. Thou shall blame my laziness or perhaps it is my pampering that has sabotaged any desire of my body to work out diligently. Exercise and I are like the sky and the oceans chasing each other relentlessly and like them we never converge, extending both to eternity un

Depths... -Amber Blue

With that hysteric laugh she bursts out- " When the skies shall wrap me and the yawning ocean shall tantalize me, when I shall be humming on the swings of memories and the scent of mahogany would tickle me , when I would dance in the rain and when the rays would burn through my darkest skin... I shall kiss the dust farewell and sail to some hushed dawn." With vehemence in her eyes she looked up- " As if the metaphors were imitating her, as if her pastel lips were festooned with elegance never so known, as if her tranquility synched in the tunes of her maneuvers, as if the fireflies bamboozled on the way ,as if the dusk bowing down and the walls echoing the zeal. As if it were an overwhelming fiesta , a transcendent celebration pouring down from heavens when she looked up with that transfixed fathomless look in her eyes."

VOIDS - Amber Blue

Yet... - Amber Blue

This time a little different😊

The Night And I - Amber Blue

My caged loneliness that have been tamed to wear the facade of social being grows more wild and wild until it becomes the '𝗷𝗲𝗹𝗼𝘂𝘀𝘆'! -jealousy of what?? - 𝗷𝗲 a 𝗹𝗼𝘂𝘀𝘆 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 "𝗡𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧 "!! The nights like me are the loneliest beings and yet, oh and yet their ataraxy weave them stupendously. I am jealous how the nights like me are the loneliest beings but they have got their stars, the stars that wrap the naked sky, the stars that make those lonely nights an embodiment of Aphrodite and what are these nights without their stars?? I am jealous that the nights would dance in the tune of darkness if it were not for the stars and yet would wear the callow vanity and would ridicule my loneliness. I am jealous how lonely the nights are, and yet the stars would love them and worship them with an unexplained zeal. As if I am unaware of their jejune plays ,their hide and seek? How the stars would harbour behind the clouds and the nights would

The Virus None So Evil - Amber Blue

Like the world has gone in an endless pause Like the bruises have been ripped open to some veiled cause, The spring jaded and gone and the colours of zeal ebbed away like it never was born. Marooned with the prayers , cozened from the world ambushed within our own piteous selves but even summer flunked to resurrect us from the loop of all the wrong amends. Coveting for the phlegmatic oceans far above the horizons Or flying solo with the mountains, the raphsody of life whisking in, Frolicking in the darkest hours, transcending in the drizzles- to enliven, to wizen, They are now but dreams, dreams enmeshed in the myriad chaos of a naked virus the plethora of unexplored dreams of delving into the fathomless world have now dried up , even their warmth no more cajole us. Everyday soothing the nerves , calming this hysteria The fear that soars within is too mulish Funny how trapped with this fear we seem like some insolent pariah. The Autumn came like

Autumn, a little too much - Amber Blue

The mornings these days are a little too calescent The Asters are a little too zestful, chorusing their songs in muffled voices. The dusks these days are a little too Solicitous the auburn petals orchestrating along with the crimson sky in a little more ecstacy. The dawns these days are a little too balmy the fragile air unfurling it's cinnamon, cider, sandalwood scents driving the deliriousness a little too much. The little too much raphsody of Feuille Morte leaves is gamboling in the golden laced roads, the tantalizing sea yawning with every brisk breath of nature. The maples, these days are a little too euphoric, the tranquilized mustard, a little too inpatient to lunge for the blue, Kans inviting the divinities all the way through the paths of heaven auspicating the awaited prayers. The glee of heart and the smiles on pastel lives are a little too prosaic these days The nature is soaked with transcendental colours of exuberance, everywhere the zeal of eupho

MAYBE , YOU TOO, FEAR THE FEARS! - By Amber Blue

Amidst the turmoil of emotions, the one which squelches is the fear- crippling the bones into frozen blanched ruptures. And yet the unruly convoluted heart becomes meek and jejune as the fear behests it to be, reigning the riots all the way through the blood and burning the flames of agony into the heart, savouring the relics of this desipience. And while we travail to cope with this , this very fear of ours sadistically enjoys the little fiesta of our maiming soul. Deliberately the fear enthralls us and dazzled by it's voodoos ,we dance on it's whims and dog about with desperation to stifle it, instead of confronting these ghoulish awes. The more we conceal and feint this, the more we play 'dumb-charades' with ourselves, pretending to use the,' I AM FINE' mask as our shields , dodging the anxieties to some far off dampened corner of our heart only dilate the fear to the acme. With the last fall, as the last leaf of autumn withers away ,that mask gets busted. A

CRIMES AND MYSTERIES

~ AMBER BLUE Better said Jughead Jones,” life is not an Agatha Christie novel, it’s a lot messier.” In the labyrinth of lies and among the chaos of sins ,happens the plethora of crimes when blood is no longer an excuse of bond, rather a mere lust, when greed becomes cynical and the hatred is ever more enthralling, when revenge haunts the nights- the darker part of us , that we are not so well acquainted with somehow escort us to the void of darkness. My lust for mysteries started with Agatha Christie’s ‘ MURDER OF RODGER ACKROYD’, then followed ‘ABC MURDERS’ , ‘MURDER IN THE ORIENT EXPRESS’ ,’THE BODY IN THE LIBRARY’ until when I realized I am succumbing to Poirot and Christie for an escape out of this lunatic world which reeks of blood every other day, and this obsession with Poirot and Christie, Marple added, was and even today bring me to the edges and spur up thrill in every inch of my body . Then came the day when I stumbled upon ‘THE SHERLOCK HOMES COMPLIATION OF MYSTRIES’ (

POETRY COMES ALIVE - BY AMBER BLUE

Poetry is an orphan abundant by the silence and yet it thrives through the odds until it stumbles upon on the pages of a poet. For me, poetry is the manifestation of water and pray tell me why not, for I have seen poetry to reshape itself in the shape of the container in which it is and metaphorical might I sound for what a mind of a poet is if not a vessel of thoughts filled to the brim! As poetry comes frolicking on your pages, the reek of silent emotions caged within the heart vamoose, plethora of chaos begin- chaos that make the heart skip a beat, chaos that unveil your reflection that you were oblivious about- "chaos that come from the highest happiness or the deepest sorrow." Only a poet shall see the agony of the fallen snow or the sacrifice of the withered leaf, only a poet shall capture the phenomenal rendezvous of the dried petal with the rain, or shall make amends in how the stars rule the night in the ataraxy. The poetry finds the lost- it finds the last breath

~ Memories

By - Amber Blue Do you ever run your fingers over an old album and unearth yourself on the swings of memories playing on repeat like a sassy radio? Or Do you ever take a trip down your memory lane only to stumble upon a sudden rendezvous with some expunged bygone memories? Or do you ever feel the torn out from inside effect when reminiscing them becomes a Herculean task? And aren't these memories the one that paint the blank canvas of your heart with colours your eyes might have forgotten? Yes, the memories then would dog you till you become a mess- a beautiful mess!! As I seldom perch into the armchair, the sketchy outlines and blurred glimpses of memories dog me and yet there is a grin of surprise calibrated on me as if I am the 'time machine' eloping back to yesterday when those episodes come alive. I was 8 or 9 and my friend , the only friend and a sister as well, was 6 or 7 and we used to run as if to chase perhaps the fathomless heaven, run till jaded or called o

Lost and found.... By Gladiolus

It's going to engulf me....HELP!! Can anyone hear me....please! I almost feel like I can't breathe anymore...help me...PLEASE...save me..! NO NO NO....WHAT ARE YOU DOING? You cannot let this happen to yourself. Come on, be 'NORMAL'. They say be you,so be you. But how can I be you when I am ME...I used to be...the ME I lost while trying to blend in with yous.... I cannot carry on like this anymore. Light....Oh...where's the light? What's this? My mobile? No, it's square.,feels like a book, the pages feel rough though...like handmade paper....it's my diary!!! What's this urge? This urge to rip apart my diary! How can I do that? It's all in here....the sweet smell of warm summer breeze....the green grass....the radiant sun....the laughs...the giggles.....ME. O her voice sounds so silvery....she seems...happy. Wasn't she the one I made a promise to? A promise to never change. How can I break that? What happened then? What's this light? Wait

A LETTER TO BIRIYANI

Dear Biriyani, - BY AMBER BLUE Haven't I told you countless times that do not advance into my dreams so often? But you are deliberately disdaining my words. This desperate stance of yours have spurred up in this lockdown period ever more!! Why?? Why dear Biriyani, don't you get it that it hurts to take a trip down to that memory lane where I was elated to delve into the taste of yours....ahhh!!! Even reminiscing those days brings an ache to my heart, but you don't seem to bother!! It hurts to think that we have been separated for an indefinite period and all these days ,I have been the vagabond and you the mirage. This pain of separation is indecipherable and you seem to mock my woe. Dear Biriyani, you know not that the acid in my stomach is drying up already without your clairvoyance, the bile in my liver is reluctant to secret itself without the taste of yours, my intestines are having delusions of you, my oesophagus has been mistaking other starch molecules as you!! a

~The Silences

BY GLADIOLUS AND AMBER BLUE Have you heard them? Heard the bleeding solitude that seems to wait in the forlorn night for her amour? The solitude that over the years has pampered the silences in an esoteric way are growing wild. Have you heard them? Walking along the soft edges of thy holy earth and embracing the despondent darkness you might as well hear them- you might hear the barbourous silences that are screaming the voices of agony. You might hear those silences that would deluge you from within. Have you heard them now? Have you felt them now? Felt how these silences are but the cacophonies of ages old vexation of that solitude, how these are the unheard pain of thy solitude. Have you heard the insane giggles of these silences? Have you felt how that this eerie night where silences are going incongruous are not ending anytime soon!? But the dawn shall knock again and the silences shall turn to melodies again , the euphonies would follow thus and the wrath of solitude would e