I had a dream last night!

I had a dream last night,
When you sat across the table,
And we talked about,
Of our heartbreaks and crushes,
That scar I got when I was a kid,
And your mischiefs of childhood,
How I write my best poems after a cup of coffee,
And that hilarious story when you drank too much,
How you love to keep a schedule,
And I love to be spontaneous every now and then,
Of your office stories which never made sense,
And I still laughed,
How you let me ruffle your hair which no one can touch,
And you pulling my hair back when I can’t stop talking,
Those nights of stargazing,
And how I could keep staring endlessly at the moon,
Of our first kiss on the sidewalk,
When you grabbed me by the waist,
Of the night spent on the rooftop,
When we welcomed the sun in the morning,
Of that second date of ours,
When the candle glimmered at your face,
And that night when we met after months,
When I brought you out to dance in the rain,
Only to be pulled back by you,
So I don’t catch a nasty cold,
How you never brought me flowers,
Yet kept our love budding,
Of your habit of forgetting,
And my memories that never fade away,
Of how you keep reading my thoughts,
And I can interpret your silence,
Of everything I can’t remember,
And all the things that I can’t forget.

Arushi Srivastava

And I still don't know it was, but it could be like a million things like!

And I still don't know it was, but it could be like a million things like,

A song, that kept playing on the loop in my head,

A text message, which flirted with both the heart and brain,

A diary, which ran out of pages with letters written to you,

A luncheon, which still continues to satiate my hunger,

A morning, when there were no worries to dampen the day,

A mirror, which kept reflecting the fascinating vistas,

An algorithm, which kept doling out different but interesting results,

A painting, which brightened the canvas with all the colors,

A fling, which refuses to fade into memory,

A book, which I re-read finding something new in every page,

A flash of lightning, which illuminated the darkest hour of the day,

A musing, with the most beautiful muse,

A calendar, which proposed a new adventure everyday,

A phone call, which was more of  serene silence than spoken words,

Or,

Just a dream, from which I didn't wish to wake up from.

Arushi 

Since I Love The Old School Things...

I am a fan of all old school things.

From the scent of rains during the first monsoon shower to the yellowed pages of a Shakespeare play that I read in school.

From the mundane perusal of the morning newspaper to hopelessly staring at the moon when night falls.

From long drives on roads unknown to all but Google Maps to taking out my Activa at home to drive on lanes that I know by heart.

From romanticizing the perpetual sunsets to falling in love with the drifting shapes of clouds.

From making clouds out of breath on a foggy winter morning to cherishing the droplets of water hitting the face from the old cooler in summer.

From capturing the aroma of coffee in a café by myself to humdrum conversations over a dinner with loved ones.

From watching my favourite movie again and again to listening to Coldplay on the loop.

From helping my mother out in the kitchen cooking the delicious Chicken Curry to jamming with my father to the tunes of Kishore and Rafi.

From watching the highlights of Tendulkar or Dhoni score a great knock with my brother to visiting the same corridors of Connaught Place with my best friend.

From not seeing a movie adaptation before I read the book to watching a FRIENDS episode losing the count of times of watching it before.

From watching the waterfalls make a rainbow of seven colours to idyllic landscapes of verdant valleys colourful houses.

From talking about life for endless hours to making castles out of air over an unseen future.

From discussing the same fan theories about GOT to going back to the comics when a new superhero movie comes out.

From the withered flower petals kept in my old diary to the broken watch once given as a gift.

From all the glittering stars in the sky to these Victorian lights I come across walking the street.

I am just a fan of all old school things.

Dear January,

Dear January, 
The calendar is probably a concept that binds mortals like us. And you are its first fragment signifying a gamut of things. While you are a harbinger of hope and new expectations, you are also a transition from something that will now be called the past. 
Curled under a blanket of wool and intoxicated by the aroma of a cup of hot ginger tea, you offer myriad moments to cherish. From the clouds of mist during dawn to scintillating hues of orange in an early dusk, you are a unique amalgamation of glittering snowflakes and tranquil sunshine. 
While you string hope in the form of new year resolutions, you are never too late in luring us in the trap of laziness. You begin with aspirations for 365 days, but soon fade away within 31 days to start a new chapter of spring in February. 
Soaking in everything, you are a delightful snowball of uncertainty coupled with hope. Often you bring the sun in all its glory but also never fail to to send some chills down the spine with your cold waves. Starting off the year to come, you are a perpetual oscillation between two contrasts. 
You give hazy winters a horizon of optimism with your new beginnings. After all, when the frost had settled and dishevelled, then only flowers can bloom. Often, showcasing a prism of colours ahead, you only appear to be a beam of white light that subsumes all.  
Yours, 
A Hopeless Winter Lover.