Line for a loved one

The smile; with its long and delicate fingers gently parts my strawberry like full lips, swiftly flowing from those parted lips down to the aisle where it nests forever in the cores of my pampered heart; that sings, screams, flings, and clings to the cruelty of the loved jet black coal like eyes that stubbornly refuses to stop feasting on my hazel ones; for it shows my crystal like soul burning with fire for an ambrosia like love that prognosticates the promises for tomorrow and days after that.

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Review of Ek Ruka Huwa Faisla

You can watch the full movie on https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mLrPhR0Gzn4 I recently took to the theatres to watch Alia Bhatt’s Gangubai Kathaiwada. Five minutes after the interval, I kept glancing at the EXIT glowing sign at the bottom left of the movie theatre and wanted to leave as soon as possible. As much as I appreciate Sanja Leele Bhansali’s goosebump arising high-cost shots along with some good melodious screening background music in collaboration with Alia Bhatt’s rich acting skills, the movie fails to achieve a landmark i.e. being realistic. As a biography, it would have enriched the essence of the movie as long as Gangu/ Ganga was portrayed as human-like, instead, her appearance, especially dialogues are just too fancy. I realize some people can speak with such smoothness and can readily sweep you off the ground but the things Gangu speaks comes from a long discussion of neatly written scripts. The movie has a strong base but the stories shown are pretty mediocre and don’t...

Loved the red sea

(This is purely fiction and please don't report this to my parents ;p) .. My fantasies were coated by perfect men from books who spoke perfect words to flow the hem of my skirt and the strings of my heart. These men knew every poem ever written and every fairytale ever told. These men loved children and respected women. These men were crafted from a woman's pencil. I longed for these men. Painful to realize a real man is made of dirt and dust. They are made up of rhythmless tunes and mismatched words. They are clever yet need help to understand their feelings. They make me grip my hair and groan in distress. I could never find a prince of books. Then I got a man. Perfect at see but flawed at saw. These hip of imperfections could not match my dreams. Mismatch at its finest. 1 don't want to see but I observe and am curious. Who is this? Who is he who dreams of me? One of his kind, I dare say. The open arms invite me and hug me so tight, it's difficult to breathe. Actions...

Some friend 3

The first time I saw him, I was petrified. His aura clanged to my nerves and won’t let go. The clean-cut hair with its deceiving hairline made in the trendiest fashion made him resembles some sort of model for a shampoo add. The deep sunken eyes carried the late long hours of concentration and the genuine happiness for whatever it caught. The dark thin eyelash hid the little know fact of his late-night parties. His aquiline nose made him resembles so much like the cruel birds hunting their prey, yet the rosy cheeks and perfect white teeth condemn just the opposite. One look at the chubby nose and you’d be unnerved to unfold all the secrets underneath it. An olive complexion broad should fell in the thin waist that gave rise to his long, slender legs. A man at ease, he knew exactly what needed to be done. When those loafers moved to the rhythm of the Rolex that was fastened in his hands, it was as if the cupid descended the earth. The rising and falling chest could not easily hide...

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