.Dream, Love and Delusion

My dream love has become a legendary reverie...
So perfect so pristine that it can never turn into reality...
Whom will see, touch and desire but cant posses ...
or may acquire again in dreams.

My dream is a teaser to an everlasting truth of my closing stage
It’s an embellishment, a soothing balm and an energy potion to haul myself a bit further.

When an enduring dilemma suddenly gropes,
I seek, behold and sense myself breathing a dream that slowly enfolds...
As, he irons my forehead wrinkles every night,
and shields my shadow till it fuses into flood lights,
Warns me to decline temptations when I let intoxication devours me and befalls my spirit guide.

He is my morning alarm, my news tabloid…
And still you name it a funny petite, tempting dream outright !!

Far-flung from reality, my La La land,
I and him in a closet of a delusion..

Ek Batta Do.....(1/2)

Aadha ghanta, aadha din, raat tak pohochney ki jaddo jehed mein
 Aadhi hasrotein ke, aadhey palchin, 
Ghutey sehme ehssas, aadha tan aur aadhi saans, 
Aadhey chaand key aadhi raat mein, kya yeh pyar poora ho payega? 
Ya phir meri hatelio mein sirf Ek Batta Do re jayega?

Whispers

Whispers, follow me wherever I go,
They hunt me down from the darkest refuge
They intrude and patrol across the hideous alleys of my soul.


Whispers, creep when my conscious sleeps,
Their fingers stealthily caress my nape, peck my bosom, slither through my bare whole.
They suck out all the tender dreams and fill me with gore,
They make love to me then why do I feel ravished, plundered and sore.


I lie alone on a bed of induced guilt,
Sleepless, engulfed by the ghost of my past...

Farewell is not the right word...

I could easily portend
You had a bit to say
As you slump a news like a bombshell

Farewell, farewell my pal
With expressions I spell
Its all exposed in a nutshell

Farewell, farewell my ally

When you choose a different path today!!
What more can I state to defy?

They are just tears, some say Saline...

Farewell in your endeavor
Our time spent together is a fortune
Your heart must drift to where it feels right
Friend, I only beg you to not get out of sight

Farewell, farewell my confidante
I have a firm faith
Farewell is not the right word
I won’t say goodbye
As we will meet again

We are friends, we are family, we are eternal….

A tribute to Lucknow and Satya :)

Lucknow Trip...which Has no Pictures of Relevance..filled With Sheer Narcissism of Monty Chachu..ehhh Slideshow: Ananya’s trip from Ghaziabad, Uttar Pradesh, India to Lucknow was created by TripAdvisor. See another Lucknow slideshow. Create a free slideshow with music from your travel photos.

Whiskey Lullaby

I miss u by every passing day and hour...

Love gets stronger and longing gets longer,

Together we embarked upon a fabled timeless journey,

The journey ended where the U turns starts and time gallops...

I dragged my body back with great difficulty to a known shore

And left the soul to caress the memories, my body couldn't adore

I loved you with all my might that am parched inside

I loathe my soul for abandoning me, and envy for it has you besides

Now, when I look behind, I smile with a sense of warmth

The pain will never cease nor I ll miss you any less

As, I left all my precious with you 

You carrying me bottled inside...

I am a Whiskey bottle, 

You will find me always in the shopping aisle...

Yester Blues

As if it was yesterday when I was sheepishly eyeing you surrounded by a swarm, and looked away every time you glanced at me. You were my dear friend with whom I shared god knows how many sitcoms and action movie and never faltered to mock you every time you tripped or mispronounced a word. Things were certainly pleasant then, when you were a friend. What on earth happened, and the dynamics of our relationship changed? Who knew that a time had come when mere mention of your name, painted my cheeks apple red or your one look caused numbness in me and melt my tissues and cells?
I was well off with one sided feelings, although was baffled by the change of emotions. I tried to coax me by blaming PMS, unemployment, sex starvation, absconding father and pretty deprived childhood; but my disillusion never matched these parameters, as it was beyond any logic or definition. I analyzed to the core and decided that I need a friend in you, as this is the way it should have been. The Holy Father above didn’t agree with my arrangements as I was truly undoing the fate, he fixed for me. 
As if it was some nano seconds before that I had my eyes close and lips sewn to yours. I fought my destiny by tearing myself apart from your arms, and proceed to the door but my hands on the door knob froze, when you touched them. You drew me closer and buried my head in your chest assuring to never let me go. I shivered in your warmth as fear of losing you crept in and your lips hushed mine telling me, you are for real.
Few light years away, I stand with an empty hand and your face is nothing but a blur. Now, when I touch my bald patch I don’t remember your fingers detangling my hair, nor I remember you teasing on my third slice of pizza while I pop in an antacid. A blur is a blur it has no face value like the mighty zero, and I am afraid I have forgotten the dimple on your right cheek. I do not get startled when I hear mom calling their kids who share their names with you. How outrageous and ridiculous it may sound but I don’t make a wish for your well being every time a lash lands on my palm. 
As if it was an era back, that we were born in two different place and lived for 20 odd years, without any scarce idea of a heartbreak we would suffer from and will suspend in that void perpetually. Yes it was yesterday when you said hello and the ghost from the past came dashing to haunt me once again.  

Ananyaism

Few days back I came across a blog post by a young lady, expressing her dilemma of being a woman and asking random readers if writing can justify the woman inside her. I found a comradeship between us as I have always been disillusioned by my entity and believe me, writing doesn't help; rather it confuses me more. I didn't start this blog because I wanted an audience or I wanted to be a part of this new world of networking, but I desired to reach out to few people who are connected to me unknowingly. I don't know them yet, and they do not have slightest idea about my existence.


Though I have always been a typical dreamy and out of vogue kind of creature who believed in love, loss, reunions, soul connections and telepathy, but after reading Coelho’s Brida I have turned into a complete bohemian. My whimsical self has absorbed the essence of Coelho’s theory of life, soul bonding, spiritual world and an omnipotent. Mere thought of 'I' behaving the real self petrifies to the core as the revelation might mar my life on earth, so after a great deal of introspection I choose to become none, I choose to become what my fellow dwellers on this dowdy and mundane world are.


I am indeed a chameleon living layers of life, trying to keep each layer alive so that my true worth doesn't get lost in the oblivion. I pick this blog to keep my insanity going, it makes me happy to reach out to those who are a fragment of me, who would react to my written expressions in a way as I do when I read them. Do not know who they are, where they are or how messed up life they lead, but I would strike a chord in their heart and make my presence felt every time they will pass by. Ananyaism is nothing but being you, not a man or a woman, black, white or brown. It is definitely not about proving yourselves, or joining a rat race of acquiring financial gains or any kind of worldly recognition. It is about the whimsical you, who is an unacceptable, untouchable, hated mortal in this wise world of money, sex and material. Ananyaism hates to judge you; it hates the one sitting pretty wearing a Kenneth Cole ensemble behind your systems, trying hard to be one of those rats.


I want to meet my other halves who do have their own Xanadus, who can allow me to visit their grotto and be my guest when feeling beaten by this world. I cry out loud, and extend my hand towards my soul-mates of different lives; I want to re unite with you all. I want to keep myself alive for you.

Narangi Shaam

Kaajal  se kaali Raat aati hain har Naarangi Shaam ke baad, 

 Khidki mein meri deti hain Dastaq,

Jaane kyun mujhe chune ki besabri use ley aati hain har Naarangi Shaam ke baad

 Kuch kehti nahi hain Sunti hain bas,

 Ghoorti rehti hain Sawaalon ki potli liye...

Woh Akeli nahi hain ab, nahi ghumti bewajha idhar se udhar..

 Sajti sawarti hain har roz,

Jee churane aati hain har Naarangi Shaam ke baad

Kya hoga jab main naa rahungi, naa rahegi yeh azeem chahat Jismo se pare?

Kya woh phir bhi aayegi

Khandahar kamre ki Khidki pe dene Dastaq,

Har Naarangi Shaam ke baad?

Lucknow Chikan – Elegance at its best...

Chikan as the word resonates takes us to to the ancient Mughal era. Chikan has a definite refinement and sophistication, that makes sure that it never, goes out of vogue. If you put on chikan you truly are flaunting a part of Indian chronicles rather Nawab chronicles. It is a type of embroidery that has been an ancient part of India for centuries. The fable suggests that chikan was inverted by Nurjahan, the mesmerizing wife of the famous Mughal Emperor, Jahangir. It has developed and accomplished its splendor and precision in Lucknow. Chikan embroidery has a name which basks the sheer demeanor of Lakhanwi culture “Chikankaari” in Urdu. Chikan embroidery with different patterns, designs is stitched using straight white cotton or silk threads on the exterior of the fabric. In chikan work, there is a pre-determined catalog of stitch ups and it is customary for different types of stitched to emerge on the same piece of embroidery. The diverse types of chikan work is done in present market are Taipchi, Bakhia, Murri, Phunda, Hath Kati, Jaali, Ghaas Patti, Pechni, Chaana Patti etc.
Chikan needle work is a very tedious and intense task. The chikan artists are taught for 15 to 20 years and often it takes 10 to 15 days to make apparel with hand stitches as they stuff in the designs with threads that are an intricate and elaborate work. Therefore, chikan is so pricey as compared to machine needle work. But it is worthy of high price as you truly feel like a royalty, after wearing it.
The chikan industry is wholly and solely functional in Lucknow, capital city of Uttar Pradesh. The industry has 5 main procedures specifically stitching cutting printing, embroidery, finishing and washing. Cutting is processed out in the group of 20 to 50 outfits. The designs are created to lessen the decrement of resources. Then comes the needle work and dying the materials in dyes like Neel and safeda (colloquial terms for fabric softener and whitener). After this the embroidery starts its course.

The most common motif used is that of a creeper. Individual floral motifs may embellish the entire garment or just one corner. Among the floral motifs embroidered, the jasmine, rose, flowering stems, lotus and the paisley motif are the most popular. Chikan is an exceptional art inclusive of delicate and intrinsic hand work on a platter of textile fabric like muslin, silk, chiffon, Georgette, organza, doriya and organdy. There are almost 36 kinds of thread work used in chikan embroidery. Chikan's light and delicate attribute makes it apt for the hot and climate. The feather light chikan sarees (saris), chikan kurti (tunic), chikan kurta (long tunics) and salwar suits are god send summer apparels. The super fine embroidered muslin can be identified with the Nawabi culture and has become an integral part of it. The Chikankari tradition slowly spread among the mass. The origin of most design motifs in Chikan work is inspired from Mughals.

There are different occasions and events on which chikan apparels puts on quite a show. Now chikan isn’t mere a casual wear, on contrary Chikan can be adorned on occasions like marriages, corporate party, fine dining and so on. Be it any sort of get together amongst the young or old, chikan is the most exquisite style which enhances your persona to a different level. Now that chikan has bagged a designer label, it is been a rage and is seen youth wearing in colleges and at work too. White on white is the most sought work among the buyers, but colors like sea greens, turquoise, and shades of pink, black, beige, lemon yellow, gray and pastel are gradually picking up the market. Chikan work is not at all confined to garments it is also displayed in item that beautifies your home furnishings. Items like napkins, tablecloths, bed sheets, bed covers and pillow covers look gorgeous with chikan work.

Apparel is a direct reflection of your personality and so your dressing style should be deeply perceived before incorporating into your life. Loaded with the mystic and charm of cosmopolitan and grace, chikan embroidery never shimmers out of the apparel industry. One who flaunts chikan embroidered outfit, then for definitely he or she is truly wearing a piece of Mughal history and culture, as this special thread work has been the part of garment industry since years. Therefore, I would recommend you to enrich your wardrobe with sheer mughal delicacy and fervor by acquiring exquisite Chikan apparel.

A Fictitious Day

A Fictitious Day



Today it’s different outside, not that clumsy, wet, sullen morning
My wish is to see the same sunset which I witnessed awestruck from my attic,
I catastrophize each day thinking of you far away,
Which way did you come back to my home again...?
Come don’t go! Here I narrate ‘This Day’; so beautiful so charming yet so alone
Lend me your touch one more time so that I take you to my attic still frozen and plundered;

I see the clouds playing the game of shadows with the dying sun, and there a child sitting deserted waiting for his morning run…
I see an old toothless lady dragging herself to the fresh market covered head to toe with age and aye clothes!
I see bunch of daily wagers singing and welcoming Obama it sounds as if their hope touches the surf on Michigan lake shore.

I see an old couple holding hands... They are still in love…

And I see you still shining and bright brushing my lips with yours, teasing me with your fresh stubble, distracting me with your oh so warm hands,
I see your eyes smirk at me but why? Now I know …
You don’t see any one but me, and I behold the truth that you don’t exist to me.

A myth, an illusion, another sunny day…

Sweet Heart, I went to Vegas


Life was never so drab and dull. I am not complaining ‘Honey’. Chicago is treating me well enough; it’s just that morning seems so morning like and nights are more like preludes to the same morning. Noon passes by the same old rectangular swimming pool and among these stupid mothers trying to drown their infants. Last month I perceived a dream of losing my memory for ever. I dreamt that I couldn’t recognize you. I had a cold and blank expression on my face and was watching “saas bhi kabhi bahu thi”. Oh! How shocked I was when I found my self submerged in a pool of my own sweat.

The very next day I decided that I need a break from this vicious circle of so called routine. All I wanted was to get close to you. My heart wanted to see you every where so I planned a vacation. My stupid romantic notion and nostalgia forced me to choose Vegas. I thought, I planned and when I opened my eyes group of seven was ready to accompany me. Yes my beloved, I should have come alone but after all I am a silly Indian girl. Visiting Vegas and not beholding the grandeur of Grand Canyon would have been foolish, so Grand Canyon was very much in our plan.

Now I am seated on a very uncomfortable seat of ‘Southwest flight’; unable to control my excitement and perpetual smile. At last I am out of my cocoon, ready to shed all my inhibitions. I am all set to embrace you my life, I am coming.

So this is “The Las Vegas”, my first quote after I landed. Here comes my second quote “Some one help me tear all my clothes, it’s hot in here”. I know that is an outrageous comment but I really didn’t mean it sweet heart, you know that I am all yours. So, where was I? Yes my dream of riding a Limousine from the airport to my hotel and shouting my heart out “Hey people here I am, welcome me because I am Ananya”, the dream vanquished. Why, because your girl is financially invalid Honey.

Don’t call it ‘The Sin city’; call it ‘The City of Light’. I cursed the city in hush tone, all because I am jealous to see such an extravagance, where my country is coping up with a legacy of its own, yes “Load shedding”. Any ways, why am I talking about some country related problems, I am here to enjoy, isn’t it? So, I was dying to check in. I could not stand a single second in this boiling shit. You know what I was ecstatic to find a cricket like creature in our suite and then we came to know we were given a suite for Invalids. Past midnight we got our deserved suite on the 20th floor with a grand view of this burning hell, sorry I mean Vegas. Goodnight my beloved I will find you tomorrow. I won’t waste a moment to be in your arms.

Lo! All I can see people with high libido, extreme desire to gamble their happiness, taste for latest fashion that is minimal clothing and tall pots of cocktails and beer. Why everybody is so happy, rejoicing and dazzled? I found Vegas luring, seductive, pompous and artificial but I was awestruck to see a very beautifully carved city in midst of barren hills. -- As you know no sin city can distract me or trick me. I didn’t lose my focus, I will find you darling.

The razzmatazz of gambling and sex gave me a giddy feel. I was pleading my folks to drive me to Grand Canyon ASAP. After 3 hours of drive I was there “The Grand Canyon” sitting grandly moaning my name and seducing me.

I don’t know about orgasm, never had one rather I found the charmer “Tom Cruise” incapable of providing me one. Would you believe me if I say today here in land of grand dunes and gorges I had one, an orgasm honey. If shuddering with ecstasy, eyes’ shutting down in influence of opium like dizziness, if a sudden churning sound comes out of your bloated stomach, if the Goosebumps never mellow downs, if your eyes gets moistened from an unknown pain, if you feel like galloping from one gorge to another, if sudden rush of tremor occurs some where left of your bosom, if you decide to die then and there and when your soul is grown to touch the end of the horizon, I call that an big ‘O’.

I lived died and lived again. I found myself safe, cozy and proud in your arms. I took your name several times inside me and I could hear the echo from each and every hidden space of that vast madness. Yes you were there. A whiff of mist touched my bosom gently… Don’t save me sweet heart, I am coming.