My thoughts in writing.

They met each other at an art exhibition. He was looking at a painting titled ‘ A hot mess’ – it was many colours brushed on the canvas in such a chaotic manner. It was that chaos that really intrigued him. May be because it represented his chaotic life. Where nothing ever seemed to be in place. He drowned in the painting. So much so he didn’t notice this beautiful lady standing right next to him. She was holding a glass of red wine on her right hand and gently pressing it on her red lips. Her eyes lost in the painting. An elderly man spotted the two staring at a painting and walked towards them, curiosity caught the best of him. “Excuse me.” The elderly man said as he squeezed himself between the two. They both looked at the elderly man and then at each other. It was at this moment that their eyes locked into each other. Magical. “What is it with this painting?” The old man asked Cupid’s victims. “It is just many colours smudged on a canvas. It does not make any sense.” “Yo

Hold down your dreams. Do not let them fly. All I hear are screams. From all whose dreams have died. We live for the paper. We kill for the gold. We destroy what is meant to save us. Just to get a selfie with a hashtag in bold. New age poetry sounds monotonous. Authenticity is left to men who con. Where old vices are now seen glorious. Honesty is a cloth torn. Just to get likes from faceless people. All enslaved. And what I fail to see right through. Is that I too I'm a slave.

And it is for family that we live for. It is for family that we shall die for. That none may tear us apart. We have each other’s back. Family above all else. Nothing else above family. “Remember this words Luma. Keep them written in your heart. Let them guide you in this life. No one else will be there for you in this world apart from family ”.  Miha told young Luma as they sat by the fire. Miha was a young vibrant woman who was sold by her parents to a drunkard who mistreated her but she still hangs in there. Despite the backlash, the rumor-mongering from her peers and the elderly in her village, she still walked head held high, graceful, and without a care in the world, because she was brought up knowing that you guard and protect your family at all cost, and this man was her family. When she was heavy with child she convinced her husband that they should move a bit farther away from the rest of the village so that her child could not grow up feeling mistreated by