Late Night Thought


Abandoning ourselves or someone who matters to us isn’t the solution when we encounter a situation where we detest a certain kind of behavior or a habit that betters no one. Trying to make efforts in discarding a habit, a behavior or anything that you know isn’t doing any good, and can be dealt with is the best way possible, instead of  distancing yourself from someone or trading yourself off with dullness and happiness.

-Kritika Vashist

The Moments We Dared


You held my face in your warm hands
calmed my dried quivering lips
wrote the first word of an unmapped script
when you forgot we were just good friends

I moved towards you with thoughts of no ends
one silenced evening of an erratic journey
the sky dimmed lights, morning was in no hurry
when I realized we were more than just good friends

We made each other better between the moments
and amid forgetting and remembering
love however knew we were meant

-Kritika Vashist

Ambit Of Love


He waits for her at the ambit of love.

She enters in anticipation.

He latches the door.

She opens herself up.

He kisses hopes.

She keeps aside the uncertainties.

He clutches his fingers into hers.

She slips into him effortlessly.

He brushes his teeth habitually like every night.

She drinks a glass of water before sleep.

He snores lightly deep in his slumber.

She opens her mouth while sleeping.

He makes exotic coffee.

She prefers hot tea.

He roves around house bare-chested singing.

She throws her wet towel on the bed.

He walks with her along the shoreline.

She sits beside him on the moist beach sand.

He dances with another woman in the bar.

She gulps down another glass squeezing her eyes.

He struggles to explain.

She lets the silence speak.

He turns on the fairy lights entangled in wine bottles.

She listens to their silhouettes’ muted conversation.

He writes about her without writing at all.

She starts her poems with him.

He moves with a gradual momentum.

She runs carelessly.

He doesn’t take the trouble to catch up.

She waits hopelessly for him beyond the ambit of love.

-Kritika Vashist

Late Night Thoughts- Wanderer


When I packed my bag and headed for a journey, to a place unknown, by destiny undecided, with the flow, that turned all roads and each step into an adventure, one that I am going to live till the end, one that adds meaning to the script of life I have been writing for a long time now.                                                                                                                                            Photo taken at Elephanta Caves, Maharashtra, India


You go from one place to another to free yourself from wearisome schedules and reasons to not hear the calling , stepping out from the confinements, which exist only until you realize that there weren’t any. Breaking the walls stifled by the fumes of burning clocks and deafening tick-tick of the time, you stuff your bag with hopes of finding a part of you in a place that awaits you and leaving behind another as a souvenir, when you only know it like a tune you heard from a distance.

The sun, even though of the same sky looks different, and so does everything else. The usual becomes unusual. A gentle stroke of the wind takes away the heaviness you had carried for long. A step on the soil turns into a memory in the heart. Unspoken words write themselves down on the smile on your face. A song at the shore, a little dance on the side of the road.

The place makes you feel more like a friend than a friend who always pretend to know you. And one day you, that place becomes an experience you waited long to live.
A journey turned into an adventure.

Never having an idea about how much of a place you will carry with yourself, you get ready to rove around another. Nostalgia for that place follows you wherever you go, and you relent in the intricate loneliness while remembering every bit of the life you lived then and there; the kind of loneliness one feels being among the people who know you as much as a man assert to know God.

While you continue to whirl in the eddy of memories, the same place embraces another wanderer in its warmth.

– Kritika Vashist