Chiku Diaries

 I sometimes pretend candies are for kids,  But always wish to have some.  Always show thrillers are my type, But I know how much I fear blood. And never fail to judge childish fantasies, But I keep a secret to fly and soar high. To have wings woven of my dreams , As I touch the clouds and rise, Wings of purple feathers of glitters , Wings wide and warm is what I thrive for. Oh! but I lied that I never flew, I did with Wings of torment and woe ,  Tangled in the mess of my miseries and sorrow, Abandoning my body, deserting my home,  With the Wings I disgust the most ,  Happily, I fly in the sky above.

 An artist once painted a monochrome, Strokes of black, a pinch of white. An extravagant masterpiece, Yet fools of the kingdom scoffed, Their blinded eyes unable to grasp its meaning. They mocked the stillness, Dull and empty what they belived.  The king summoned the artist, Declared the work useless, And ordered him to flee. “Oh, My dear majesty,” the artist said, As the court rose in murmurs, “What men aspire their lives to be Is what they see before them. They call it a monotonous splash of grey, Yet forget that grey is what they live. They accept the colorless days, But rage when they see them reflected. We are told to celebrate the present, Not mourn its dullness. Yet when truth stands bare, It becomes unbearable.” The king stood silent. He saw not the painting, But the lives behind it. Those who had long abandoned color Declared it the finest work the kingdom had known. The artist stayed. And the monochrome remained,

 What’s the place where you can’t sleep? You can’t cry, you can’t weep. You can’t smile, you can’t dream And being appreciated? Forget it. Who are these people, veiled in lies, Acting like they care, But only about themselves inside? No, it’s not a room Filled with faces unknown. The red eyes belong to our dearly “own,” Ready to drown you in their screams, Ready to cage you in their dreams.

  Words like knives on her nape Haunt her days, shatter her nights. A sense of void Within her gut Wrenches her soul Tangled and tight. Hundreds of hands Offered for handshakes, None that open their arms. Taking the words, She weaves a skirt, Adorns it with red. Too faint to paint her wrists, She clings to the skirt And the ache it brings. With every cut, from the skirt Her smile grows wide Walking into the roads Bleeding and quiet  

 Yes, I don’t remember your face perfectly only the blur of something warm, like a half-remembered song I wish I could hum again. Yes, I was silly, never asked your name, in a store that smelled like dust and detergent and quiet shelves that didn’t care we were there. But still— butterflies. The real kind. Wings that fluttered from your glance to my gut. And I swear you felt them too. Our eyes spoke in glances too loud to ignore. The wind kissed your hair, coffee skin caught in flickering light, Acne kissed your face, not something to fix but something that made you real. I was stupid enough to hand over my Instagram ID, not smart enough to ask for yours. But maybe that’s just me. You weren’t some fairy tale. No shiny armor, no prince pose. You were just you. And that was enough to make me smile. No roses bloomed at our feet, but your presence was enough. And yes, I’ve been ridiculous ever since checking my phone, just to see your name pop up.

 (PS: It's a raw poem with bare minimum rhyme scheme, it just popped up in my mind, so yeah, it's fine, it gets more criticism than others, yet I hope y'all still like it) Yeh baarish bhi kitni ajeeb cheez hai Kisi ke liye chai aur pakode ka mausam, kisi ke liye bas bheeg jaane ka darr. Kahin pyara bhara kahin sirf kapde sukhane ki kich kich. Zyada ho jaaye toh baadh, kam ho jaaye toh sukha. Aur agar beech mein ho, toh log yaad bhi nahi karte. Log toh baarish se bachne ke hazaar tareeke leke ghoomte hain kabhi chhat ke neeche, kabhi chaate ke tale, aur kabhi seedha kaam se bhaag jaate hain. Par ek cheez hai, jo kabhi nahi bhaagti. Na kabhi shikayat karti, na kabhi bachaav chahti. Bas khadi rehti hai, chup-chaap. Mitti.   Ane na ane ka shikayat nai Bas intezar Barish aye bhi toh uske taal mai mehak jati  Kaam ho ya zyda Rang na toh bas pani ke rang mai hai  Lekin agar yehi barish pyar hoti? Logo ke hato mai chata  Apne kaam se ghume bhatke Aur kuch log  Bas ...

 World full of masks  some shaped like home. Familiar smiles, voices you’d bet your back on. They nod when you speak, but feast when you leave. Laugh with you, then laugh at you. You’re the bite in their next chew of gossip. "Eyes say it all", they say Yet cement theirs with care Cold behind the shimmer, Intent wrapped in glare. Likes in lullabies But knives behind the smiles So you wear your silence, And just nod to survive.

  Kabhi shabd sunta, kabhi jazbaat. Kabhi chup rehta, lekin mehsoos sab hota. Aadat si thi logon ki kahaniyaan sunne ki. Samajhna mushkil tha, Par phir bhi har baat dil mein utar jaati thi.   Jab sab paraye lagte, Wahi ek saath hota. Haan, sa nazuk tha Kabhi kabhi doosron ke dard ke tale toota Lekin kabhi kisi ke liye bura nahi socha.   Haa, kabhi kabhi kalam tez chalta, Lekin har lakeer ke neeche kuch daba hota. Kahaniyo ki jaddo se kuch na kuch bunne ki toh adat thi   Kisi din kahani, kisi din kavita. Lekin jazbaat rokne ka khyal, kabhi na aya Haa mana kalam thi bhari kabhi Lekin logo se usne woh bhi chupaya Sunta sab tha, pal pal Lekin rehta khamosh tha   Waqt ke saath purana hona hi tha Kuch kone murjhaye toh kuch mite Lekin likha jiske liye tha khas tha Haa, woh mamuli sa kagaz tha Par uske khamossi ka ehas tha

Wasn’t love once a letter left on the window, a hand reaching out before the fall, a name written slowly on the spine of memory? Now it flickers like a text left on read, a plan “maybe” for someday, a love replaced by timelines, typing bubbles, and terms without meaning. Where’s the celebration for small wins? The silence held for big griefs? The patience, the pages, the staying? Wasn’t love once a steady lamp in storm weathered rooms? Maybe it’s still here tucked beneath filters and fears, buried in hearts that scroll past it. Or maybe, we’ve just renamed it so many times, we forgot what it looked like.

  A sheath of blues the kind his quiet eyes carry settles over the sky, soft and slow. Below, the greens wait still, unwritten, like something about to be felt. Then heaven falls, spilling nectar, and the sky remembers what it’s like to feel. Numbers blur. Pink slips into the room on walls, on breath, on everything unsaid. Then thunder. Stillness. Eyes meet. Like the world stepped back to let the moment breathe. And in that quiet chaos, something begins the feel when blue meets green.

 They tell you, dream big, chase stars, be bold. But not too loud. Speak your dreams softly, or not at all. Especially not to your own people. If your dream can’t be priced, it will be mocked. If it doesn’t fit a form, it will be folded and thrown. Need rest? You’re lazy. Need space? You’re selfish. Need meaning? You’re dramatic. Want to create? Make money instead. Want to help? Help yourself first. Want to live? Not like that. Speak up and you’re arrogant. Fall silent and you’re cold. Think differently and you’re unstable. Follow your own path, and suddenly - You’re the rebel. The ungrateful one. The child who ruined everything. Not because you failed. But because you didn’t follow the script. You could’ve been their perfect story, if only you had killed your own. But you didn’t. So now, what do you choose? To be the echo they applaud or the voice they fear? The obedient hero in their tale, or the villain in your own truth?

 I look at myself just to see, How much I gave, how much I lost. I loved too much, so carelessly, Yet never stopped to count the cost. I look at myself just to see, A pile of failures, sharp and clear. Not due walls too high, but missing keys, For doors I couldn’t reach for fear. I look at myself just to see, A map of scars, but not from war. Not battles fought, but flaws the in me, A truth I could not hide anymore. I look at myself just to see, No gift, no skill that sets me free. Yet still I ask, will I ever be Able to love myself like me?

Jab aane wali thi mai yahaan, Sabke chehre the roshan jawaan. Jaise Ganga ka pani uchalta jaye, Meri aane ki khushi sabko sukhaye. Umeed thi aur sapne bhi the kayi, Ki Har muskurahat meri pehchaan ho. Par kismat ne likhi thi kahani kuch aur, Meri duniya mai aya ek anjaana mod. Na khil saki ped ke upar, Lekin socha neeche bhi jee lungi safar. Apni khushbu se sabko lubhaungi, Chaahe neeche hi sahi, bas muskuraungi. Thodi si umeed chuti zaroor, Par dil ka jazba raha mazboot. Vasant ka pehla jhoka jo aaya, Mujhe bhi khilne ka samay dikhaya. Par na upar, na neeche khili, Bas beech mein ek kali si mili. Fir bhi maine rakha vishwas, Socha apni pehchaan banalungi khaas. Patjhad aaya, sabne dekha, Neeche khile phoolon ka hua samman. Upar ke phool bhi tareef ke haqdaar, Aur mai? Mai rahi anjaan. Koi tareef na, koi burai, Bas beech mein kho gayi jaisi ek parchhai. Sabke kadmon tale mit gayi nishani, Aur yaadon mein bhi na rahi meri kahani.

The bird soared the sky so wide, where the wind blows soft and free. It glided over the frozen lake, believing love was meant to be. The ice below was cold and thin, but shimmered like a beautiful dream. The bird flew low, so full of trust, unaware of the cracks unseen. Then came the storm with it's laughing eyes, and mummered sharp and deep. The ice it loved began to break, a secret it could no longer keep. The bird fell fast, its wings grew weak, the water pulled her tight. But the storm just stood and closed its eyes, "Ah, such a perfect sound tonight. How lovely, the way it breaks just right." Yes, the bird adored the storm, Not the bird, but the breaking he adored.

For you, I would save my last piece, let you warm your cold hands in mine. For you, I would wake before the sun, just to send the first good morning sign. For you, I would share the "equal" slice, yet somehow, yours would always be more. For you, I would trade my window seat, so you could watch the sky and soar. For you, I would wish on every 11:11, dig through jokes just to see you smile. For you, I’d let you pick the movie, even if it means sitting through it twice. For you, I’d swap my lavender for black, pause the drop of my favorite song. For you, I’d fill my notebooks with hearts, missing you when days feel long. For you, I’d change all my passwords, reminding to the day you came. For you, I’d learn every rap verse you love, just to sing along and say your name. For you, I would take the longest way, just to "accidentally" pass you by. For you, I’d write a thousand poems, turn whispers into lullabies. For you, I’d fold love into paper, tiny hearts in every sha...

 Dekhein toh yeh do shabd, lagte ek jaise, Lekin andar jo dekhe, samajh le faasle. Moh aur lat ke beech, hai akash-patal ka farq, Ek bas jism ka bandhan, ek prem ka tark. Moh toh lagav nahi, asani se chut jaye, Par lat woh agni hai, jo pagal bana jaye. Moh hai akarshan, jo nazar tak simat jaye, Lat woh pyar hai, jo rooh tak utar aaye. Hanikarak dono, par fark hai gehra yehi ahas, Moh chhup jaye sapno ke paar. Par jo chhule prem ki lat ka ras, Wahi samjhe jeevan ka asli gulzar. Moh hai ek dhund, jo pal mein dhal jaye, Lat woh ehsaas hai, jo rooh tak samaaye. Jisne apnaya ki ishq hi jeevan ki ruh, Wahi samjhe khud ko khokar milne ka sukoon.