A Bright Canvas, Musings

c u r t a i n s

 

 

the sunshine filtered through my pale, white curtains. they danced in the slight wind that blew. i, dressed in my comfiest pajamas, walked over to my balcony with a cup of latte macchiato. The breeze caressed my hair, while the sun left gentle, warm kisses on my face. i sipped my coffee in peace, feeling as if there were nothing but the nature and me on this planet. for just a few moments, there was nothing to occupy my mind.

–  i n  a  v e r y  l o n g  t i m e

 

love,

m.

 

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A Bright Canvas, Musings

o n c e / a g a i n

one step forwards

two steps back

there’s too many thoughts

dancing in my head

you ask me something

my mood lifts

there’s passion running

in my veins

and an outpour of words

on my lips

i talk, i open up, i say

it all out loud

what’s dancing in my head

i look up

at your face

you’re the least interested

my shoulders slump

my voice goes softer

my mood falls

like my heart

right on the floor

it happens once again

but i don’t seem to learn

and once again

i vow

not to talk too much

your mind

already somewhere else

and mine finds itself racing

–  o n c e  a g a i n

love,

m.

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A Bright Canvas, Musings

h e a v e n s

starry skies are one of the most beautiful things to exist. it is a salt and peppered, jet black sky, full of possibilities.

–  g a z i n g  t o w a r d s  t h e  h e a v e n s

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A Bright Canvas, Musings

a / t r y s t

You just sat there, unaware and building a temptation that was hard to resist. I was the first to make a move. I ripped your clothes off hungrily. I traced the curves of your deliciously tanned body. I kissed you, I kissed you till my mouth tasted of yours. Our, a forbidden love, but a guilty pleasure. A knock on the door knocked some sense in me. There stood Ma, gaping at the sight. I sighed in disappointment. We were never meant to be.

I glide over the marble flooring, my paws moving noiselessly. I seek comfort in chewing up Ma’s favorite pair of heels.

a  t r y s t  w i t h  c h o c o l a t e

love,

M.

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A Bright Canvas, Musings

s t r i n g s

 

 

it was as if i

was made of strings

taut, but fragile

you, a guitarist

strummed the right strings

played the right chords

and i hummed

became yours

in just a (heart)beat

love,

M.

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A Bright Canvas, Musings

b i b l i o p h i l e

your fingers trailed down me like

they were brushing across the spines

of books you have loved. tender and

gentle, tracing the covers that are

slightly frayed. and in that moment, i

knew.

–  i f  t h i s  w a s  l o v e  t h e n  i  d i d n ‘ t  w a n t  to  l e a v e

love,

m.

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A Bright Canvas, Musings

Little Black Bag

On a cleaning spree, I stumble on an old black leather bag. Cracked at the seams and several other places, it takes me a minute to place it. It used to be my identity. Quite nondescript and definitely not from the high street, my hands trembled as i pulled its tasseled zip. The golden hands moved apart in a grand reveal sort of way – to show me the mess this bag held, of years gone by.

I take a deep breath, hands still quivering and reach in to empty out the contents.

One by one. And thus, let the memories (finally) go as wisps of smoke into the thin air.

I reach in to find an old lip balm. A favorite for when you kissed my lips raw and but I still wanted the color to show. Several bobby pins, all deformed from holding back my thick curls as you devoured me – running you hands down my arms.

A small bottle of perfume, almost empty. The scent you loved as you inhaled it while whispering sweet nothings in my ears. Several bills of coffees, from dates where all we wanted to do was stay up late listening to the other’s stories and having a good laugh.

More bills, now of cheap alcohol and candies that sustained me after you left.

Little heart shaped chocolates, that you always bought for me, now past their consumable date. Quite the irony. Three postcards, crumpled, slightly faded, from the times we spent at hotels around the town.

And finally, my little black book. Full of stories, thoughts and illustrations. Of me. Of you. Of us. I flip through the handwritten notes – more thoughts and things I wanted forgotten. Ticket stubs, some polaroids, all bringing that searing pain back – again.

And then, like a joke from the universe, a brown paper dramatically falls down on the ground.

I know I didn’t write it, because my memory is still just as fresh. Then my hands tremble as I find not just one, but several sheets of paper. All of them with hints of your cologne. Your scrawled script visible through the thin paper.

You left without any words — and now I have too many in my hands. All from you. 

I feel faint, my legs give away. I support myself as I brew a cup of coffee. Not because I like it, but because you did. I make it just the way you liked it. Little milk, about three spoons and brown sugar aplenty.

It is going to be one long night. 

love,

m.

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A Bright Canvas, Musings

m o o n l i g h t

the city bathed in the glow of the moonlight. a little girl looked out her window and smiled. a teenage boy desperately tried to get the right shots for his assignment due tomorrow. a twenty-something year old was glued to her laptop screen, unaware of the sight unfolding in the sky outside. a thirty-year old father watched his daughter step down from her table and snuggle in her bed with her teddy. a forty-something mother passed by her son in the balcony, hunched over his camera screen in concentration, and sighed. a sixty-year old grandma knocked on her granddaughter’s door and asked her if she would like to accompany her outside on the porch swing to watch the full moon and chat.

the moon hung low in the sky and beamed at the little humans on earth, each with different priorities and yet the same at the end of the day.

–  m o o n l i g h t

love,

M.

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A Bright Canvas, Musings, Series

laugh

laugh is the first of  a new series of stand-alone snippets from larger stories. I share my musings on instagram, but posting larger pieces is a little inconvenient for the reader, and thus they find home here.


The whole office had noticed how distracted he had been the past few days. And not to mention, quite relaxed and lenient. While the office murmured and speculated about the reasons that brought about this change, he stared out the window at the crowds in the street. The hustle and bustle was audible even at the 15th floor. But he wasn’t listening, or looking. He was thinking. About her. She had suddenly become such an integral part of his life. He knew it wasn’t love at first sight. How crazy was that? No, no definitely not at first sight. Wait, love? Was he in love? For the past few years his relationships had never been serious. He couldn’t remember actually feeling this way about any lady he had been with. Ever.

Something else was tugging at his brain too. Just like the rest of the office, he wondered what had caused this change in his feelings. They had been on the Ferris wheel at the local carnival and she had told him stories about how she used to be scared to death of riding one when she was little. Then they had gone to that restaurant all the way at the other end of the city for simply pizza that they could’ve had anywhere else on the way but she had insisted that it wasn’t simply pizza and any other restaurant doesn’t make them as tasty as that one did. And then she had wrinkled her nose like she does when she finds his comments completely unreasonable. In a light hearted way though. After the meal he had silently agreed with her. Then the time they were sitting by the lake, barefoot and their feet dangling just inches above the water. He had said something, that she had found immensely funny. First she had widened her eyes as she took it in and then cracked up with that laugh of hers. Her brown eyes caught the rays of the sunlight and shone as crinkles gathered around her eyes and her mouth split into a wide smile and then a laugh. He couldn’t remember what he had said. Not after that smile and those eyes that he stared into spellbound for the time when she was laughing. Her teeth were straight, but not completely. Her front teeth just slightly angled. Her eyes, god her eyes. Normally they were a simple shade of brown, but in the sunlight, they danced and changed colours and sometimes even had a sunset of their own. And then her laugh. He had never heard any woman in his life laugh like that. It was a carefree and open laugh. An appreciative one. When she laughed, you felt special. It wasn’t that she rarely laughed and that they were hard earned. No. But when she did, it was so heartfelt that it just…simply made you feel special for having made her laugh like that.

He shook his head and tried to bring her out of his thoughts. Then he smiled and was a little bit at peace knowing what had intensified his feelings for her

love,

m.v.

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A Bright Canvas, Lifestyle, Musings

My ONE Trick to Get Over the Writer’s Block!

For me my bed is the place to get inspiration. I sit there  under the covers, with my laptop and a notebook to jot down random ideas that go away as soon as they arrive and a snack varying in the range of different flavors of chips or popcorn. Some say chips are unhealthy, but I mean hey, potatoes? they’re gooooood. And if you disagree, I’m sorry we will never be on the same page. Ever. I will eat potatoes in almost all shapes, sizes and method of preparation. Except mashed potatoes, those are a little harder to eat unless they’re with pani-puri. That by the way, is one of my all time favorite Indian recipe. They’re literally little fried bowls of goodness!

So I’m sitting there with a bowl of chips, munching normally at the start and eventually furiously as I shove handfuls in my face because there are no ideas, inspirations or epiphanies that are coming to me. Nothing. Zilch. uggghhhhhhh.

I even try switching to a different snack. Maybe the flavor of your food is associated with your little thinking grey cells and with my salted potato chips I am defying some law of biology or whatever. So I switch snacks to sour glow-worms and other candy. But there’s still no eureka moment.

I browse other blogs that I admire, but its not stuff that inspires me to write my musings and reveries.

So how the heck do I get over this writer’s block?

 

The first time I distinctly remember getting over it was a moment of pure joy and I had a sense of achievement. I had been sitting there, twiddling my thumbs, looking around at my room trying to think of stuff when a very random word popped in my brain. Coffee. So I’m like well, that’s still more progress I’ve made the past hour, let me just go with it. Okay, so coffee its going to be.

Then I sat there associating the word ‘Coffee’ with other words. Let me give you an example.

Coffee.

What is coffee? cold or warm, energizing, caffeine, brown, earthy-toned, in a mug, bitter, espresso, latte…

Why do people drink coffee? for the energy, um because it tastes good…

Where/in what context is coffee usually drunk? people meet for coffees, or go on coffee dates, i don’t even drink coffee, in winter because people want to warm themselves up, or the exact opposite even?

 

Then I picked three of my favorites: warm, coffee dates, winter.

And thus came up with one of the very first musings that I was quite happy with. It was simple, but effective. And here’s how I edited it with a photograph and my signature frame.

 

Here’s another example to guide your grey cells a little bit. The word that was swimming in my brain was – Vodka. But how do I create a musing out of this?

Vodka.

Describe it? clear, alcohol, drunk, tequila, shots?…..

Where/in what context is vodka usually drunk? celebration, happiness, party, when you’re going out, pre-cocktail party, heartbreak….

 

Then I picked some favorites again: drunk, heartbreak, and clear (it made me think of rain for some reason)

And thus came up with another one of my very first musings! I really did and still do love this one. I felt that it spoke volumes in just 1 sentence! And here’s how I edited this one with a photograph and my signature frame.

 

So that is my one trick to getting over the writer’s block. Let me break it down into three little steps for you.

  1. If your brain is giving you word(s) that make no sense. Grab them with both hands anyway to get to Step 2. If not just think of a completely random word that could get you going. And if your grey cells are still not budging just google a list of random words. That one is fool-proof!
  2. Describe the word, situation and anything else conventionally or unconventionally associated with it.
  3. Arrange those words in different orders and your brain will now be active enough to fill the missing gaps.

AND YOU HAVE YOURSELF A LITTLE MUSING!

This can of course be expanded to several sentences or a paragraph even!

This method isn’t intuitive or even methodical to be honest. But it really works for me and if you find yourself stuck, give this a try. Maybe it works for you, maybe it doesn’t. But I’d love to hear your opinion on it anyway!

By the way, if you haven’t already, then follow me on Instagram. (@bymv_). Then you can get all my musings right in your feed and you can also show me some love and support haha! And before I wrap this one up, here’s to shameless self promotion! 😉

 

love,

M.

 

 

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A Bright Canvas, Musings

faces

I travel every week, from one city to another. Waiting at the train stations is a different kind of fun. I see all these faces that cross me everyday. Tourists, locals, businessmen, children, mothers, students, and so many more. I wait for my transport and wonder where they come from. What made them be here at this time. Where they’re traveling to. What are their regrets? Have they lost someone they loved? Are they broken inside? What are they running from? What are they running towards? What is the one thing they want to get from life?

The train slowly pulls up, and most of the people I had been wondering about climb aboard with me. Some are in the same coach and others scamper to different ones. I plug in my earphones, lose myself in the music.

    – and the questions go unanswered as the faces soon disappear at the station //

 

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