Rhythm Writing: Hopeless Irregularities

One month ago, I was in my room with a blank screen in front of me, taunting me and my ability to write. Many of the readers of bittersweetturns think that I write good (for which I want to thank all of them, for believing in me and especially for believing themselves).
The point is, even though many think that I write well or they enjoy my creations, at that moment when I was staring at the white screen of my laptop and the screen stared me back with a question mark, nothing mattered. Every cell of my brain screamed silently for words to come off. Sadly nothing came, so I decided not to blog anything that day.

That was the biggest mistake I committed.
Another day trailed behind that ‘one day of not blogging‘, and one more and the count went on, where I was in a hopeless position of not even wanting to open my blog to see the response.
It made me more sad. To avoid the whole ‘not doing what I love’, I decided to distract myself with movies and web series and therefore came the idea of Soul searching, which also failed eventually.
I thought I lost that spark to write, even though I tried.
One of the readers advised to keep a dairy with me, which I did.
But it only motivated me to pen down ideas and not the verses.
I used to sit with my laptop and think about the ideas, but nothing seemed to be satisfactory.
I was not able to figure it out, my movie review thingy didn’t work out, ’cause I felt like I was not good enough, there were complexities and apprehensions, ’cause I felt sometimes,
“why would somebody come visit my blog, it’s not that good”
But I was wrong.
Maybe it was not good enough, but It was special for me. Writing is special for me.
Everytime somebody asked me ‘when are we seeing a new post on your blog’, I used to say ‘soon’, but even I didn’t know when that soon was going to come

I think I got stuck when I started pleasing people, instead of helping them or helping me.
After all I started the blog so as to keep myself motivated and in that process motivate others with whatever motivated me.

Never mind, I am past that phase now, and I am here to tell you that the phase I was in, was not writer’s block, that was me afraid of the failure.

How did I realise that? Well, through rhythm writing, which I am definitely going to tell you guys tomorrow.
I know, I am testing your patience but trust me it helped me, and if you are facing anything similar to what I faced, please let me know, and surely visit again tomorrow to see how Rhythm writing helped me.

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Thoughts To Soak

I toooook a long break,
Yes the ‘took’ has 5 o’s, and yes I took a long break.
I know I know, I’ve been saying this for a while,
but it is hard for me to decide.
With god’s grace I have got a job, friends I can rely on.
and finally found love of my life,
or have I?
But still, something is missing.
But what is it?

I lay down thinking,
thinking about that friend who pushed me over the cliff,
not because he hated me,
but for me to feel the wind over my face,
to smash my body over the ocean of my thoughts,

I know I’ve been on and off in this relationship with you,
but you know you are my home,
’cause even after I wander and roam to places,
I come back to you.
You are my escape, but when you get to close, you are a jail.
It’s hard for me to survive my own thoughts,
sometimes I ignore,
but how long can I run from myself

So I let them soak in, deep.
Only the positive ones though,
’cause you are a spectator, viewing the trails of thoughts passing by,
only to turn the light green for the thoughts to get to you,
not to be submerged in the darkness of our own flipped side.

How We First Met: Mathematics

There were they,
two individuals,
poles apart,
yet building a great friendship on same saved foundation.

Disclaimer: This post is purely fictional but is inspired by true friendship of real people in real life.

Let’s celebrate great friendships

It was the third night of the horrendous week of what we called exams, but in reality they were the culminating stressors, sucking every ounce of blood from their weak bodies.
Walking through the corridor, there Sivan was, forming a strategy in his mind, planning how he would divide the hours left in the night to complete his units. By then he attempted physics and chemistry but the next day he had to face his worst nightmare: Mathematics. Sivan never liked numbers, even in college he tried his best to get through the math class, but always failed to understand the quadratic equations and Eigen values. He was in that thought process when he saw a guy from his class, holding his mathematics book along with him.
Where are you going?“, Sivan asked him. It was past midnight and the library was closed, then where was he going, Sivan thought.
Roy is telling the important topics for tomorrow’s exam“, the guy went downstairs in a hurry.
“Important Topics?”
“Where?”, Sivan shouted from the corridor,
“102”, the diminishing voice replied.

Continue reading “How We First Met: Mathematics”

How We First Met: Mom and I

It took sometime,
about 8 hours of long labour;
and 2 hours of consistent pushing.
But I finally came out crying.

I don’t remember anything of that time,
but while going through my childhood pictures,
she told me the story of how we first met.

I was 2 kg, timid little girl with pink flesh and tiny hands
held in her arms with her soft eyes gleaming at me.
She couldn’t stop smiling,
I love you my baby girl, forever and always“, that’s what she told me.
Tears rolled down her cheeks as we both sat down looking at the images,
I knew she would take a bullet for me, and I would do the same for her.


To all the mothers, whose selfless love is beyond this universe,
who scold but care,
who slap but spare,
thank you for teaching me the meaning of life,
being there for me,
waking up till 2 AM, making me coffee during my exams.

You are our Superwomen, and we adore you for your sacrifices and unconditional love.

PS: I am dying to listen to your stories with your loved ones. Please share your special memory with your mother in the comments below.

The Dreaded Desires: Confrontation

In Continuation of The Dreaded Desires: Lewd Ends

Myra rushed to her dorm room and closed the door abruptly. She stood in front of the mirror and gazed at the reflection which was so horrified that she could not recognize her own self. Dark lipstick, big eyelashes, smudged eyeliner and smeared mascara, she was looking horrible.


She stared at the mirror for more than a moment and started talking to herself. “What have I done to Myself. This is not me. I look like a whore dabbed in powder and color, who has lost her name, her identity.” she took out Shrey’s handkerchief, looked at it and used it to wipe the black tears off her face.

Continue reading “The Dreaded Desires: Confrontation”