God and his favourite creation.

“It’s unfair,” he whispered in a small voice.”Why can’t you give me what you’ve given them?”

His innocent eyes swept across the room, seeing smiles and carefree laughter scattered everywhere. A feeling swelled up in his gut; he decided he wanted answers.

“Is it because they’re your favourite creation?”

Instead of an answer, he got a gentle stare. Then, slowly, God answered, taking care of his fragile heart and its fears.

“You are my blazing sun; the brightest star I’ve ever made. I took all my love and warmth, and decided this world needed it. When you look at them, you think how lucky they are. When I look at you, I only see my best creation.”

“Best, how?” he asked. A little timid, wondering if the words were just a farce.

“Through you, I want them to look. Look at how big my powers actually are. What they do with the resources life gives them with mercy, you do it all even with your hands empty. They have, so they are. You don’t, and yet, you go on. Luck may flow sometimes in their favour, but you’re bigger than luck. You’ll never need it to conquer my world.”

And thus the empty corners filled, and hope again found its way in his heart. He looked up with a small smile, and saw a star looking back.

~shruti

Growth takes time…

“There might be a day when the person in front of you in the line takes a little too long to decide, or you’ll meet a child who takes a few tries to fully say his sentence. Maybe you’ll be left to wait for an old lady, or will spend hours deciding on what you want to say. Sometimes, time likes to play a game with us; it likes to keep us waiting. But if it gives you the chance to slow down, and has something worthwhile waiting, then I hope, you don’t find it in you to complain.”

~shruti

And I go on…

I can feel my dreams turning into reality; the stars are telling me they’ve aligned in my favour. The mountains are encouraging me to keep on pushing; that their height is nothing in the face of my determination. When I look up, I find the sky already looking at me; it extends its hand forward, just as I make up my mind to reach out for it.

~shruti

Burning stars…

Hands roam over my skin, deathly like a silent knife; cutting their mark on places unseen, going on till I’m begging with my life. Darkness presses in the space around me; one looms over me with a promise to devour me whole. Lips that burn with the promise of sin, leave a mayhem of desire on my soul.

~shruti

My grandfather’s watch…

I often stop to listen to the ticks, playing like silent music in a dusty corner of the room. All around me they go on with their lives, unaware of how they’re falling for its tricks. It goes on endlessly, blending with the symphony of their laughter. Each second trickles by; each minute flowing faster than a river. It reminds me of my mortality, of the precious few gaps in life I can steal. It never stopped for anyone; probably never will.

All that ever would be…

For so long I sat there, looking far off in the distance. If I asked these people, they’d all say  they were free. But were they, really? Did I think I was free? Perhaps, we’re not so different, after all. Maybe I’m not the only one who smiles at seeing a flower bloom, and mourns when things don’t go my way. Maybe this world holds us all captive, and plays us expertly like a musician does his instrument.

~shruti

Do the stars look at us?

I’d felt you pulling away from me that day; that one day, when everything changed. Your smile was a little less bright, and your eyes wouldn’t meet mine the same. I remember you not asking me to stay back, and how you didn’t smile when you called my name. Your hand left mine too early; you didn’t try to make me stay longer to play a game. I wonder how I went from being your brightest star, to never shining in your sky again.

~shruti

World of you…

When I look at your scars, I see the distance you’ve travelled; I look at how far you’ve come. Sometimes I wish I could’ve walked beside you, but then I think of what God would tell me if I asked. He’d say you were always strong enough to walk in the storm alone. So, tell me, is there any reason good enough to not always look at you with awe?

~shruti