Letting Go- A conversation between the Mind and the Soul.

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“You look dead to me!”, Said the Mind.

The Soul, was used to receiving such sarcastic derogatory commentaries,  from its supposed partner in life- Mind.

Mind sat on its high chair of Logic, crossed its sharp directional legs, and said   “Abandonment of an idea does not mean total loss.”

“I never said that giving up would mean a loss.” Replied the Soul slowly.

“Yes,yes.. you did not say so. Yet, over the years, I have learnt how you might feel and perceive situations that sadden you.”

Soul stayed quiet.

“Then maybe loss is not the word. Forgive me.” Said the Mind as it looked around the room.
Logic the chair stood on peach pink floors of Empathy. Mind looked down at the floor, frowned and said “If only I had the power to shift the chair to another part of the room.”

The floor of the room was divided into two sections, one half covered with pink tiles of Empathy and other half covered with orange tiles of Boundaries.

Mind looked at soul, “Disappointment… That is what it is, not loss”.
“You are feeling disappointed Soul. What you need to see is that, it is okay. It is okay that what you desired did not happen despite all your good intentions and my efforts.” Said the Mind, kindly.

Soul quivered and shivered. Its glassy eyes, filled with water memories…looked sad.

Mind got down from the high chair of Logic and stood near a picture of Nostalgia, which hung inside the room that they were in – room of Contemplation.

“Do you remember our trip to floor tile store , how we fought that day..!“, Mind fondly smiled.” I wanted orange tiles and you wanted these pink, Empathy ones. We finally decided to use both of those. As Mind was still looking at the picture, Soul started to slowly drag the chair of logic across the room over the part where floor tiles were orange , made of Boundaries.

Mind saw this and quickly went to Soul’s aid. They both placed the Logic chair onto the floor of Boundaries and then looked into each other’s eyes.

“Are you ready?” Asked, the Mind.
Soul gave a firm nod and sat on the high seat of Logic upon the tiles of Boundaries.

Soul then took out its beautiful tiny purses , beautifully embroidered with such intricacy…each weighing in tons of uncertainty.

“Purses of Expectations?”

Soul gently nodded as it handed them over to Mind. Mind took them and cast them, one by one, into fireplace of “Let Go” beside him.

Flames burned bright blue, black, then grey …

Then as the fire grew to become gentle white, Soul looked at Mind and mouthed,”Thank you.”

Mind smiled and said,

“Feeble you look , Feeble you are my soul..
But each of these battles has made you much stronger
Than the world will ever know.” 


Vault of Present Pleasures (A creative poem on fantasy )

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Emerald coins, paperweights of Sapphire,
Moonstone crayons, Rose Quartz wires
A Peacock’s song in Othello’s cries,
Vivid Pastels glimmer via Van Gogh’s sighs
Into the vault of Present Pleasures,
Lay such fantastic unconceived treasures of Nigh.

Also lay herein dark translucent things…
Sea Shells with Whale Echoes and Wings,
Flew everywhere making Neon Bubble Rings,
As though Air indeed was Water,
And Patterns translated to Clutter.

Chaotic yet weirdly Orchestrated,
Breathed all these , each in its place,
Each charged and casting its own Charming Daze;
Silently causing me to fall in its Calm..
Almost asleep to sounds of Truthful Alarms,
My Eyes surrender & shut in the Sweet Lies,
Senses Lost in the vault yet Fantasize.

– A poem full of imaginations by Cynthia ❤️

Note: Hello there ! Thank you for stopping by my poem . I have something for you . 🎁💝🎁

Here you go , take some of these Turkish Delights . Trust me they taste good.. so go into your imagination , choose one from the picture below .. and just relish this sweet delicacy all the way from Turkey.. 😀😊

oh.. and do drop a like🌟 or comment 💌if u really liked my poem.. means a lot.. okay Bye…😊😊😊💞💞💞

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I have this picture of a scene from Friends sitcom on the back of my door. I will attach the picture right here.



Picture Credit: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FO2skI3eq20

This was the picture that was taken on the last day of the shoot. It’s a very nostalgic picture and like every others 90’s kid, I was sad that the show was over.
I chose to take a printout of this picture and post it on my door. Out of all the happy moments on set, I chose this moment on their last day. I did this to remind myself that all good things will come to an end and that change is inevitable.


     Change is something that I feared as a child.

When people left, I cried.

When we changed homes, I felt lost.

When I was asked to sleep in the hall, away from my parents I felt terrible.

When the new academic year started, I panicked.

When the class teacher changed, I was devastated.

When my friend moved across the state because she lost her dad, I got depressed.

One fine day my 10th-grade teacher made me change my seat. I was furious. I went up to her and explained how much I hated my new seat by blabbering some random stuff and trying to justify that I really needed to be back at my old seat( with my friends).

She pulled my ears and gave it a little twist ( it did hurt a bit) and told me that I have to sit at my new place and that there was no other choice.

The teacher had my best interests on her mind when she did it. Since I was away from my friends in my old seat, I was able to focus on my studies better. No more wasting time on unnecessary talks. The teacher saw that I hung out with my friends who were toppers yet, I was okay being an average kid. So in order to push myself, to become a better student, she made me sit with another set of toppers who were not my friends. I got to focus on Biology more, which was my favorite subject at that time and I ended up scoring full marks in it. Not only that, I improved my other boring subject’s scores and in turn, I passed my 10th grade with flying colors.

But as years passed by I started loving change just for the sole reason of escaping certain harsh experiences that I had encountered.

     Change became my drug .

That having said, Change was being misused in my case.

Change is an ideal friend, that helps you to move towards the better version of yourself, it helps you to see that there is more to life than just happiness.

There is sadness, bitterness, anger, hatred, passion, soberness and so many different shades of emotions that we feel as we move forward in our lives.

Had it not been for Mr.Change, then we would be stuck with an illusion of “This all that I could ever be “.

Change is that silent person who takes the blame for things not being the same anymore.  Yet, it introduces us to the marvelous unknowns in our lives. It silently watches us explore the unknowns and in that process, discover what we truly are capable of doing.

So the next time when Mr.Change comes knocking at your door, let it in. Have a conversation with it and try to see how you can make arrangements for this new guest of yours to stay.

 Because at the end of the day, Mr.Change, whether you like it or not, is here to stay.


The Lamp Post – Part 2

The Lamp Post is going to be a long story which I am going to post in small parts. Hope you like it and feel free to give me your feedback in the comment section.

The sun screeched its rays across the city . The bus stand was like a field growing people out of nowhere just like the weeds do on a clean ground.

A lady in her mid sixties kept looking at me .

Please . Don’t . Talk. To.Me. My soul begged

“Too hot isn’t it “she said. “Still a beautiful day”

A fake smile and a nod was all I could give.

“It’s just 8 am and look , its almost like the mid of the day .” The lady took the end of her red cotton saree and started fanning herself. “Now-a-days skin cancer is on rise too they say.”

How ? How do simple things such as this lady’s kind commentaries of the day manage to annoy me so much.

“You should eat a lot of fruits ” She continued ” But I don’t think you even eat . But who does that anyway these days? ”

People say I have very low level of tolerance , I could see right now why they were right.

The lady grabbed my wrist suddenly . ” You are too thin for a boy  Where you born as a premature baby ?” she asked excitedly as if she had just succeeded in  finally diagnosing me , the thin me.

I could feel myself controlling  my words so hard least I say something that I’l regret later.

“I see you are wearing a tie . Where do you work son ?”

Son … If it hadn’t been for that word..  “ At the Techlink company” I replied

“IT company huh ? I heard they don’t do well these days , is it true ?” she asked waiting to hear satisfactory response.

I looked past her and I could see my bus slowly making its way towards the stop.

“Depends “ I said “on various factors such as the bug , you see if the bug latches onto you , it sucks the blood out of your veins and spits it all over the company and thus making your so called company perform poorly.”

The bus stopped in front of me.

“I quickly stomped my foot in front of her , oops! Auntiji that was a bug ” She jumped back and  looked at me alarmingly .

I climbed into the bus and looked at her through the window and mouthed “they are everywhere” I smiled .

The dazzled lady watched me take the window seat as the bus passed by her.

People love to be social , I do get that . But they should know that there are people like me who hate it when someone talks all chirpy on a screeching hot Monday morning, pretending as if the world functioned exactly the way they wanted to. Worse still is that negative shade of talk which they slip in their conversation just a bitter medicine hidden in a spoonful of Biryani. IT companies don’t do well , pfft! Why don’t they even have the basic courtesy to be empathetic and them asking or saying such things really doesn’t help my Monday blues!

After a 20 min ride I finally reached my destination, one road to be crossed and .. Oh my God!

I have to reach my office early today , it’s Bulldog’s meeting , he is gonna kill me!!

Bulldog who you say ? My boss Subash is one ! He barks at me like one for no reason , but looks like today I’m gonna give him a reason to do so . Run Ved!

(That’s me by the way Vedant ,the narrator of this seemingly endless story. Will tell you more about myself later.Sorry , gotta run now. )

“Excuse me !” I yelled as I pushed past a couple of ladies who gave me a disgusted look.”Not on purpose ! Im sorry ” I yelled again

Baam !! I fell flat on the zebra crossing.

“Careful” said the voice of a girl.From the ground view I could only see her huge Totoro key chain hanging from her bag. She helped me get up before I could say something she was gone.

9:00 pm leaving office

The bus ride’s probably the most peaceful part of the day .As I was walking towards the bus stop, I noticed the climate slowly cool down. It’s probably gonna rain . Great! My bus is late ! If it rains then Pandora will be sick. Sorry , let me introduce you to my baby , my Hp laptop a.ka Princess Pandora, basically the only friend in my life.

As I was waiting for my bus I looked across the bus stand , I could see the lamp post . It had this beautiful french design to it and was specially set up it its place by the Mr.Shaveer ,the owner of an antique shop right beside the lamp post. Shaveer had also placed a bench right beside the post for passerby’s to sit. Shop usually closes by 10 p.m but for some reason , it been closed for almost a week now. But the lamp post continues to be alight every night.

It was almost 9:45 and my feet were starting to hurt and that’s when I saw this girl standing beside the lamp post . Where did she come from? I wondered the street was mostly empty and I had been staring at the lamp post for the past 4o minutes. Maybe she came during those magical three minutes I decided to close my eyes.  The bus finally arrived and I gladly hoped on to it .As I took my seat , I tried looking at her across the street she wasn’t there anymore. Was I imagining things ?

Maybe I was.


Picture credits : http://b1nd1.deviantart.com/art/Purple-Lamp-post-31684949

The ego was right

“Trees, grass, water, rocks  …everything ! The whole whirlwind of the universe decides to pull you by your toes and hang you in mid-air.” I whine “Why me?? “

“Darling,  don’t act innocent “Said my ego.


“You loved the dirt… the way it felt, the way it coloured your fingers every time you played with it. The way it clung beneath your nails hissing its presence every time you tucked your hair behind your ears. “

My ego huffed an air of fatigue at the face of my stupid childlike obsession of the dirt.

“Everything that sticks to you is not meant to be a part of you” said my ego. “Wash it away. Now! “

I looked at my hands; I felt the dirt… my eyes wandering decisively at what I wanted to do.

I pulled my hands to myself and hurriedly hid it underneath my shirt.” This is all I’ll ever get “ I shouted aggressively.

“And that’s all what you’ll ever have “said my ego smiling at my very predictable act.

“I love the dirt “I proclaimed at a little nudge from an existent but dying audacity.

My ego walked slowly towards me and whispered into my right ear.

“Then keep it “It smiled and disappeared.

I stood there still, with my hands trembling, the dirt still stuck ; exhibiting the least indifference towards whatever had happened.

“I fought for you “I exclaimed to the dirt hoping to get back a sign of acknowledgement.

I waited ever so much as eons only to realize that I had never been made so much of a fool as of now.

The ego was right.

Everything that sticks to me is not meant to be a part of me.


There was something. Something that turned into insanity.

Beautiful enough to make you hungry, some of these random feelings don’t have a name.

It was more than that… or as they say; more than that where it came from.

Action and assumption always contradict each other and doubt decides to dance in between. Assumption, the ambassador of impossibility always does a good job only if I let it to.

Protestation in front of its office had annoyed it.  Assumption walked right up to my face and banged on the dusty past-ic table, the fact files it had drawn out from my brain base. It raised its brows, with every skeptic hair on it directing me out of the office.

I looked and fell and abandoned.

Abandoned assumption. Assumption couldn’t bear it. It died.

And there stood its ghost in front of me.

“What are you?” I asked

“I am nothing” the Ghost said

“That is not possible! You are… Well you are a… “

“I am nothing”

It smiled. It looked beautiful. But it started to fade… its existence threatened.

Was I moved?

Yes !

Right or wrong Assumption had directed half of my life. I felt sorry for it.

I lent the only thing I possessed in abundance to it, insanity.

And it became something.

There was something .Something that turned into insanity. Insanity that turned assumption into something.

And thus the ghost of insane assumption hangs around me, haunting me with maddening ideas … Forcing me, to put them into action.


The Pen And The Paper

The pen hovered over the paper.

His lips were wet , ready to leave a mark.

The paper lay there , blank , not knowing what to expect .

The pen couldn’t hold back any longer and rushed towards the paper.

The pen and paper kissed.

They saw that their act of love had been visible through an impression, which the paper bore.

The impression , they decided , was less than perfect unlike their love.

And so the pen and the paper kissed again and again striving to achieve perfection .

But the perfection , which their love, for each other had attained , had other things in mind.Perfection had given itself freely to love .Love of all sorts and forms.Love with all kinds of flaws.

Because it is love wherein the flaws give rise to the determination to achieve eternity .

And perfection loved to last forever.

The pen and the paper had seen that their love could be visible as it left a mark , an impression. They wanted the world to see that their mark which represented their love , was a perfect one.

And that was a flaw and perfection could not accept it.

So the mark of love never achieved perfection… as perfection was never meant for the worldly eyes.

And so the pen and the paper kissed again and again , striving to achieve perfection .

But alas… the perfection was never achieved.

Fountain pen

Waiting to be a part of nothing…


Photo by Suzy Hazelwood from Pexels

Looking through the pictures of you and me, I realized that my past with you is just like the smoke.

If I want it to stay, I have to keep the doors closed.

If I want it to disappear, I need to open ‘em all.

The worst part is if I keep the doors closed, I know I am dying every second.

Every second drugs me into an illusion so pleasant, so light…so numb.

And at a point it all becomes numb and I let the images flash by in front of me…

And as they appear, each one of them which once carried a concoction of emotion, now possess just nothingness.

My brain sends signals to my body, aiming to make a move toward survival.

My will, wills nothing.

And so here am I, choking on the memories of you and me.

Longing and waiting to be a part of it.

Waiting to be a part of nothing.



I looked at The. The looked at me . The shook its head in denial. I pleaded. I implored. The is my only chance and I know I wasn’t good enough, yet I wasn’t willing to give up. The pushed me. It tossed and hurled me and shouted “You are dust !”. A part of me broke. Just a part . The pushed me into furnace. I burned. I melted. Finally the best in me silvered out. mirror The looked at me. The looked at The.