Evenings glow like burning love letter. The sky burnished with stars peeping through the torn clouds.

I wish this town would host a circus! That one circus, that makes you want to run away with them.

Chocolate-stained cheeks and lost coat buttons, letters half-written, notes passed around and hurriedly stuffed into school satchels. The fallen leaves pressed in notebooks. The cartoons and the phone numbers on the back covers! 

Nothing, lasts forever, right?

What if this planet really is flat? But, all of us have been really really  lazy to venture out far and wide, so we decided it’s round. For us to comfortably say, what’s the point, right? Maybe, we would never know.

Ursa Major, Monoceros, Draco, Pegasus, Centaurus, Eridanus, Ophiuchus, Hydra, Orion, Scorpius, Perseus, Andromeda... Neighborhood! Can I come back, please? Pretty, please!

Copyright © Neerja Yadav


I have always felt that one needs the story sorted out in one’s head before it can be committed to the paper. 
The neat figuring out of how it all started and the way it would end. Like cooking, I need to know the end result, the ingredients could be varied, the method could be spiced up, the wok and the oven could be different or not; but the end needs to be clear. 

The jumping of characters while the story is being drafted, proof read, edited… is not something that happens, with me. Maybe I am not like those, who have the surreal talk to them. Maybe I am not a story teller.

via Niemamowy

No wonder then, that most of these yarns I spin in my head or on paper; remain the unfinished saga. Almost always! And, those that I do finish sound lame. And, there lies the reason that the book, that one book, which is inside, never comes out. Never gets told. Trapped!

Everything is gunmetal grey and the moonlight goes right through the hollow bones.

Dusted off the old chest, forgotten in the attic! Why, oh why? Now, I would have to take out those jars of broken promises and broken dreams and set it on table. Those are the rules.  Also, tucked in a corner pocket was a phial of mermaid tears. Tears of loss and tears of happiness; washed out of the sea.

The sea is cleaning out, you see, and soon the mermaids themselves would be around. Soon!

Copyright © Neerja Yadav

Le Gémeaux

A compendium of lies and regrets and yet no looking back. Tousled hair, fighter frame; am trying to take the heart from the soul. I was never any good with lingering sadness; it burdens me.

Have you ever had a chance to hold the entire universe in one gaze? If you stand under a canopy of tall trees and look up, you will see the entire universe. I could lose myself in those starry leaves. The clouds swirl and tempt and shower. I can't help feeling that, somewhere, time has stood still.  The air is heavy and my heartbeat is slow. I wonder what it all means: if it means anything at all.

Even the smallest things can be magic, really.

via Niemamowy

 Copyright © Neerja Yadav

rain town

Attention is the most potent of aphrodisiac of all! 

I let the spinning orbit of my day pull in: work, toddler, leaving and arriving; buying grocery and paying off bills. Household stuff. On the swings. “Mumma… shweeminggg {swimming}”

And, you long, once again like zillion times before… to find yourself reflected in his gaze.  Find your heart spread.

If Only...

The nights are listless, crowded with the shallow sleep, too much thought, too many tears. Blurry eyes, fogged head, I feel myself half awake, half in dreams.

My dreams … of the shallow sleep are just a fantastical reconstruction of my mundane days. My longing, my wanderlust projected. I wish inception was true! For me! Never a deep sleep and it gets increasingly low as I go!
In the early pre-dawn hours when the first birds have already begun to sing my dreams always {and whenever I do dream} become magical. Of demons and aliens and fairies and beings magic!

Enough of chin-up, practical, getting through the day! Enough of being a warrior!

I want supple-subtle heat and the fierce attraction! Things that would make me feel beautiful, wanted, sexy!

Now I rub my eyes and look about the room. Rain speckles the windows. Nirvaans squealing! And I’m here: reluctant yet certain in my life.

I let my eyelids flutter closed again… only The Memory Remains.  

Copyright © Neerja Yadav

via www

friday evening philosophy

The arrival of ideas and the ever so slightly tapping of thoughts happen when it’s least possible to capture them. A spark, a glimmer, a bit of something strewn about! 

They show up when I’m fuzzy with sleep. They arrive with the fragrance of coffee, and in the quiet moments as I lie down counting clouds or stars. They come as I’m cooking, rinsing dishes or folding laundry, playing. Or when I am in the middle of an important email or a conference call!

They bloom from snippets of conversations, lyrics of on-repeat songs or guitar tabs. Or things I read or scribble down in notebooks; from things pinned, bookmarked and gathered, my mind a collector, like the bottom of an ocean. They show up tattered and secretive: whispering. Or clear and sharp like diamond.

The truth is, I think they are everywhere, like ether, they weigh nothing and fill up the universe. Each one waiting to be picked up and put down on paper or blown up into just another big bang, just another universe. 

Accessible! There! For all!

It’s not their absence that stops us; it’s their abundance. And, more importantly the absence of wherewithal of courage to yank just one of these and mould/sculpt/thrash/shape into life what one has dreamt of.

Those who “re-invent”, innovate, create just know that ideas trickle down to you and are not something that comes pre-cooked ready for the microwave. They understand the patience and persistence that goes into letting the smallest of the ones grow into something concrete. Big! And, they are ready to risk, put their souls on to the line.

The thought does matter, the waves on which the ideas ride. And, then the execution needs to begin. It will have to be executed! Worked upon! Written down! Directed into! Titrated into! Experimented upon! Atom by atom dissected and then rebuilt.

After all, the big bang must have had its own small spark!

Copyright © Neerja Yadav

spring-atom heart

Spring-Summer-Monsoon, en masse' they come, heels-clicking at my threshold.

Morning too comes early now with the birds calling. This spring has been all about soaking up the sun and the rain and the general rad-ness of the skies! Everything looks washed. Primed for whatever newness. Expectant! Laundry in the basket and the dishes wait in the sink. Yeah, that too! :)

Before night falls we play and eat and dance and tickle each other and get tired!  Twilight hums with crickets, frogs, fireflies. The sky is already gathering stars. The hugs and the kisses and the just the everyday warmth of coziness of a house, lit up with yellow lights and sprinkled with smiling rains.

Later, as I sit on the couch, filled with humming sleep all around me; I hear a distant strain of music. The night-mist transforms even the average of strings into ethereal! 

I read, I write, I finish some leftovers from work; I arrange pictures on the drive. This is life. Now! This moment! What are yours?

Copyright © Neerja Yadav


via Gray Flannel
शाम हो चली है...
दिन भरा का थका सूरज, संध्या को आपने आलिंगन में ले
अन्धकार के घने जंगल  में, डूब  जायेगा .. 
रात भर व्योम वासी ढूँढ़ते रहेंगे ... 
संध्या को, सूरज को
सूरज को, संध्या को...

परन्तु उस स्याह जंगल में
व्योम वासियों के दीपक की रौशनी नहीं पहुँचती
कुछ सुनायी नहीं देता
होती है सिर्फ एक भीनी सी खुशबू
और एक ठहरी सी मादकता

एक जादू
जो सिर्फ चढ़ता ही जाता है
और हर रात के अंत में, एक अधूरी कहानी की तरह अधूरा सा रुक जाता है

अगली सुबह , चिड़ियों की चह चाहट के आगमन में
सूरज उषा के कपोलों पर चुम्बन ले
उषा को शर्म से लाल कर
आगे बढ़ता है

काल चक्र की भाँती, संध्या उसका अतीत बन चुकी होती है...
इंतज़ार... संध्या की अकेली सचाई है...

Copyright © Neerja Yadav

p.s: for those of you, who are not versed with devnagri script (hindi) - am working on the translation.