The Broken Bride


She was happy just thinking about what she wanted. She wanted a spectacular wedding. A groom who would dote on her. A mother who would cry as she walked down the aisle. A father who would look at her with utmost affection as he walked her down the aisle. The melody of the harp soothing her nerves. And the red roses all around.

She was happy thinking about what she wanted. But she knew she could never have what she wanted. They had made sure of that. The military, the soldiers, the bombings. They had taken away all that she had. Her perfect groom, her loving parents, her best friends and everyone else who even looked familiar. All that was left was the wait. The wait for the next bombing, the next night when the hungry soldiers would come to hunt, the next time she would actually have food to eat.

But she dreamt and thought and wondered. And she was happy when she did that. She knew that her days were numbered. Until the day it all ended. The pain that was beyond tolerance, the hunger that never ceased, the darkness that never lost.

And she saw a flash. Something close to a million cameras being flashed at her. And she saw them all. The groom, the parents, the friends. And she was happy. The broken bride was happy.


This post has been written for picture it & write  by ermilia

What Best Times are Made of..

We were friends at one time

And then we were more than friends

You loved me and I loved you

You promised me a million things and I kissed you and promised you a little more

We did a lot of things together

Watched movies, held hands, talked for hours

I was happy

You were happy

I was happy that you were happy

You made me feel good about me

I hope I made you feel the same

And then I did something stupid

Something I shouldn’t have said

And everything shattered

“WE” changed to YOU and ME

I am lost today without you

I feel a void that never seems to shrink

I feel lost without you,

And more, without your friendship

Today, as I sat here going through some of our old chats

I remembered what you meant to me

What I meant to you

And I remembered

What Best Times are Made of

You were the best thing that happened to me

I treasure that

But I do not regret “WE” didn’t work

Because you taught me a lot

And more than anything else

What you truly taught me was

What Best Times are Made of

And I will be eternally grateful to you for that

And I will love you

Until my dying day

DISCLAIMER: This is my first attempt at something that’s different than plain prose. And for the sake of not insulting all the great poets we have around here, I’m not going to term it “poetry”. So that’s about it!

Building Castles

It had not been a good time for them. It’s not that they weren’t getting along. But something was just not right. It was probably because they hadn’t seen each other for so long. Things were getting a little weird. They both knew they had changed. Isn’t that inevitable? After all, it had been a year since they last saw each other.

And she was really scared. Scared that he wouldn’t like her anymore. Scared that things just wouldn’t be normal. Scared that he wouldn’t like what she had become. And worse, scared that she wouldn’t like what he had become.

She felt the apprehension growing in her heart as she walked towards the place where they had always met for four years before he had decided to go away. Not from her, no. But towards his dreams. For chasing them. For realizing them. She knew it was for his own good. For their own good, in fact. But that wouldn’t help her with the growing knot in her belly.

She reached a lot before the time at which they had decided to meet. She had brought him a book. He loved books. And she loved looking at him when he read them. She sat there with the waves lapping at her feet, their sound never failing to soothe her, to calm her nerves.

And she saw him approaching her, a bunch of beautiful pink roses in his hands. And as he drew closer, their eyes met and she knew, right in that moment, that nothing had changed. That nothing ever would change. They were just the same. Because the one thing that truly mattered had not altered. It was the fact that they loved each other.

And both of them sat there by the beach, the water rising as the time passed, drenching them. She was oblivious to the fact that the book was drenched. He, to the fact that the roses were now mere petals. All they did was look into each other’s eyes and talk and hold hands and talk till the sun went down. And they both knew that they were going to be alright.


This post has been written for picture it & write by ermilia

The Drive Home

When he woke up, the first thing he realized was that he had a terrible headache. A throbbing head combined with a sense of nausea left him dizzy and disoriented. He did not know where he was. Or rather couldn’t make much sense of what had happened.

He was on the verge of losing consciousness again when he remembered the drive. The weekend visit to the hill-station, the much needed change from routine, the time spent there and the drive back towards city. And that’s when he remembered her. Popped opened his eyes, thinking of where she was. And that’s when he realized his predicament. He was lying on the mountain road, with his face down in the mud. His legs hurt like hell. He tried to move but his efforts were in vain. He tried to call out to her but couldn’t. He was trying hard not to think those stupid, hurting, crazy thoughts that were popping up in his head. Nothing can possibly have happened to her, can it? No. It can’t.

He tried to turn his head. The first thing he saw were the city lights from the mountain road. The city looked beautiful. With the millions of flashing lights. And his head still hurt and he still couldn’t move an inch. That was when he heard someone moving. It had to be her! He mustered all his strength to turn towards the sound. And there she was. Standing near the edge of the road, beautiful against the backdrop of the millions of city lights.

He tried to smile at her. And that is when something struck him as odd. Something was not right. And he realized that it was the way she was looking at him. It was different. She seemed lost, hurt, hurting. He didn’t understand why she was standing there. Why she seemed as if she wanted to get away from him. Why she just wouldn’t come back and help him up. He tried to speak to her but no sound came out. And right there lying by the roadside next to his car, he saw her collapsing in front of his eyes. He wanted to scream, wanted to help her.

But the last thing he remembered was searching her eyes for a hint of recognition of the love they shared. And then they both were gone.


This post has been written for picture it & write by ermilia

That Feeling of Happiness

I’m gonna talk about happiness today. Why? Because I’m happy! Mad, crazy, dancing happy! I feel I could conquer the world today. I feel I could fly. I feel I could dance.  I feel I could do the moon walk (Ok. That’s taking it a little too far. I’ve tried a million times and failed a zillion times.). Now getting to the point. I’m happy because I’ve had the best week I can remember. Now if you ask me what was it that I did in this week, I don’t have anything much to tell you. I didn’t go partying or drinking or even on a nice date (Though I regret the last part.). What I did was meet up with my best friend, my confidante, my soulmate (I don’t know how many of you believe in soulmates, but after I met this person I’m talking about, I’ve come to believe in them.).

And all we did in these 6 days was talk and go shopping and do all the mundane things that all of us have to do (Though I know many of us wished they didn’t.). We held hands, we talked, we held each other and then talked a little more. This is how I spent my entire time. And there is such bliss in just doing nothing, I tell you. Just plain, simple happiness. Just sitting there, savouring every moment of it. That moment when your hands touch accidentally, that moment when you both look at each other and know what the joke is, that moment when you just sit in the car playing your favourite music saying nothing to each other, that moment when you just hold hands and walk, that moment when you talk about Ayn Rand and her philosophy (Yes, we do discuss such things extensively.), that moment when you know you’re not seeing each other for probably a year more. And I loved every single moment.

It makes you wonder what happiness is, right? Is it buying and wearing expensive clothes? Is it going around in expensive cars? Is it getting drunk or doing drugs? Is it spending all the money that you have? Maybe. Maybe happiness is in all of these things. But that is a very superficial feeling. It is not that  deep, satisfying happiness that leaves you smiling at random moments, the kind of happiness that resides in your soul, that creeps on you at those totally random times and leaves you, well, just overwhelmingly happy. Happiness is in those small, mundane things. And we should not complicate that. Not complicate it by expecting too much or giving too little. By moving too fast or too slow. By being too outspoken or too scared. Let us just be what we are and wait for the right person to find us. (It might take some of us a little longer than others. But believe me, its magical when that happens.) Because all we want to do in this world is be happy, isn’t it?

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