the everyday

Everything collides and converges, projects, deadlines, semester exams, Nirvaan’s school works, end of year round the corner… everything!

And, I never feel, I can just stop, pause, put my head down and take that deep breath… I am always running out of time.

When, I could just use, maybe a day, a mere 24 hours; perhaps a few moments to just slip through that hole in ‘the fabric’; my own rabbit-hole… a handful of moments.

Am building a collection of random moments, knick-knacks, while I wait for something to string them together! 
I keep misplacing my stuff, me … and finding in places and moments, unexpectedly.


Copyright © Neerja Yadav

'stealing tomorrow'

From the hidden caves of sleepless nights and fingertips fumbling with the bed sheets  
on the cusp of passion N prudence - 
comes this:

via web
She had known him before, a few stolen quicksilver moments, and each time it whipped out a new craving in her, a need combustible enough to make all night bonfires. But, all that was ever done, all that she could ever do, is douse the fire, pocket the ashes.

Yet for all that, it was love, wasn’t it? Or lust? Love of mayfly for the dying sun, love of one-day insects for the candle-wick. End indeed IS more beautiful, the finale truer than the prologue. 

Lingering for a moment on the very edge, and like all lovers she parted with a whisper; 
“Not just yet. Soon, but not yet”

Copyright © Neerja Yadav

my beliefs basket

I want a life that sizzles and pops and makes me laugh out loud. And I don’t want to get to the end, or to tomorrow, even, and realize that my life is a collection of meetings and pop cans and errands and receipts and dirty dishes. I want to eat cold tangerines, and sing out loud in the car with the windows open, and wear pink shoes, and stay up all night laughing, and paint my walls the exact color of the sky right now. I want to sleep hard on clean white sheets, and throw parties, and eat ripe tomatoes, and read books so good they make me jump up and down.-Shauna Niequist 

 "I deserve that, don't I, some sort of blazing love, i can live with" - Sylvia Plath

 Let go of yourself, Let Love In,
Take a Deep Breath

{2 years One month and 9 days}

On this day, on the eighteenth of November, with the world sunny and wind dry, amid everything else; its 4 years and nothing!

And just like that, things change, another milestone just slipped by, that time of motherhood where just being there and a kiss could most likely solve the rest.

Now things begin to become complex. There is getting to know this person he is becoming, beaming-faced, hilarious, stubborn.

At the dinner table and other times, he’s like “want mummaaa”, wanting to be close to me, wrecking havoc with my dinner plate and anything else I do. Some nights I’m all patience and games: “Here comes the hyena, the lion, the hippo.” Other times, I’m worn thin by the way he squirms, his strong little body knocking me off kilter. But when I set him firmly back in his chair he begins to pout and then cry. “Mummmma pleesse don’t get angry, Mummmaa pleesse kissie”

And I know the years to come will pass just like he counts now: “One, two, three, four, nine, ten, fourteen, nineteen.”

Copyright © Neerja Yadav