Of Cropped Hair And Fierry Love


You have a thing for my neck ,
I have it for the short cropped hair .
I have a thing for how there are no long tresses ,
To hide my vulnerabilities to you ,
To cover up the point on my ear,
Where your lips sent chills down my spine,

How everything lies bare before you,
In all its true , pristine form .

I have a thing for how there’s nothing ,
Nothing on to the contours of those lands ,
Nothing in the cervix of the collarbone,
To give shade to you in the blistering sun,
Rather walk with you .

And how it is like the open sky ,
With a thousand stars in the darkest of nights ,
The stars which no shade can hide .

I have a thing for how you don’t have to remove any veil,
A veil of dark , luscious flowing hair ,
From my face ,
Or my skin ,
To reach me .
You are welcomed ,
For the soul and the body , its all your home.

I have a thing for the earrings you get me ,
Don’t have anything to tangle into ,
Like your love ,
Like an element complete in itself ,
Rising in its own glory , shining in its own beauty ,

I have a thing
for your love ,
for the wings you are to my dreams ,
for the freedom you are to my bondages,
for the purity you are to the soot of this world .
I have a thing for US .
© Ambika

The Silence Before The Storm


Are we the only ones anxious here ,
Moaning the loss of a battle not even fought ,
Or celebrating the winning of a war yet to take place .

Are we the only ones fearing here ,
Of a failure that may just never take place ,
Of a victory that sometimes seems just a mile away .

Are we the only ones here losing sleep over a thing which isn’t greater than life ,

If the madness is ok , isn’t detachment too a key .
If passion is ok, isn’t obsession an extreme ,

So what if ,

What if I hold on to the process ,
Fight a fair fight ,
And be detached from the goal ,
Would that bring us solace ?
Would it ?
© Ambika .

You Have Their Laptop, You Have Them !


Have you ever felt a sense of nostalgia, a memory that tingles your heart, hits you in gut on seeing a gift that someone had given you a long time back ?
Especially when that someone is rarely around you ? Especially when its someone you love? When almost the entire span of your relationship is spent in waiting for their arrival, on planning those few days and then on missing them when they leave.
Of course you have a million selfies and pictures that you make sure to click, to revisit all those moments in hours of loneliness. You have the gifts they got for you . You have the chats . But then all these things belong to you. More to you than to them . Because they gave it to you.

But what if you have something that belongs to them . I am lying besides a laptop right now. Have you realised the feeling when you are with them , for days altogether, your phone doesn’t ring , there are no beeps, your last update on instagram is days back if not weeks and your replies to messages less prompt. Because , hey, your phone’s best friend, their phone is alongside. Their laptop is at rest too, not needing to play movies that reminds him of you.
And in today’s times that’s the most proximate of your belongings.

So , I have his laptop . I needed it to work. And right now I am lying besides it , with somehow my mind tricking my heart into thinking that he is around . Because his belonging is around. Not the gifts he gave me . But something with which he spends so much of his time. Something that has the essence of his touch over and over again. The faded keys of the keypad, the uncleaned screen, the haphazardly arranged folders, the way movies are put, a folder that says how much he loves chick flicks, romcoms, more than action movies, his taste of music , our pictures from years before, his photographed postcards that he sent me , his work .

Isn’t that what everyone of us is made of? Isn’t that our own small world ?
What more could remind you of their presence?
What gift could replace this feeling of belongingness?

So for the days this black flat little box of his essence and personality is with me , I guess m gonna fall asleep by its side .

To all , Do try this with your one !

No longer , And longer


No longer do I want to say ,
And longer I just want to see.
No longer do I want to try ,
And longer I just want to feel.
No longer do I want to ask,
And longer I just want to wait
To see if it’s really meant to be .
To see where this vast roadless expanse takes me ,
To see what lies ahead without a plan ,
To see what I stumble upon .
Let the universe choose
And let it just bless me with the strength to walk .
A road measured not by distance ,
But by time !
©Ambika Bhan

Be What You Want To Be


Let there be a spirit,
A spirit free to feel ,
Like a man,
Like a woman ,
Modern ,
Ethnic ,
Free , liberated …
Cool, rogue ,
Shy n elegant …
Let there be a spirit ,
Being what it wants to be ,
When it wants to be .

I am the one with the shorts n the boots
And then the one with a veil n the anklets, 
I am what I want to be
Equally confident , equally beautiful, equally peaceful !
– Ambika

What You Choose ?


What You Choose?

I see perfect couples all over ,
I see these fairytales ,
I see it from the eyes of a girl
I see one man showering her girl with joys and care ,
with a sense of security ,
and with a heartfelt love.
And then how smoothly they exchange vows, how easy was the transition…
How sometimes being satisfied can give you peace and clarity.
It fills me with this dirty , disgusted anger,
or maybe they are the pangs of hatred for something I couldn’t get …
They fill me with hatred ,
For the ones I see,
For the ones living that fairytale.

And then I look here , at my side …
The torment, the tide,
For that one moment of exhilaration,
The numerous nights of anxiety .
The constant fights with my own demons,
The fears of failure.
And yet another morning ,
Yet another day,
Wanting to battle it alone,
Wanting to build it alone,
For its my road ,
Its my dream ,
And I have stopped believing in supports,
I have stopped wanting my hands to be held,
For there have been to many aches,
too many broken dreams,
too much of efforts into a shallowness that returned me nothing ,

My hands might be cold
But that’s how they have been since long ,
Cold And Bruised when I wanted them to be held,
And now ,
They have healed … but just cold ,
So I warm them with my own breath ,
With the warmth of the shining sun ,
And I tell that lil girl in me

Fairytales are fables made with a man,
And legends my dear,
Legends are realities made alone .


Life Is Not A Battle


I think life’s not a battle.

In its entirety of 24 years for me its learning and growing.
I wish people realised the importance of being joyous , generous and tolerant as they moved up the education levels , as they passed  or even failed any exam in the hall or in life.

Lets vow lead by example , be the best we could be with whatever has been bestowed on us yet not to forget the values of atonement and compassion , for they don’t mean weakness . They mean nobility , which is a leader’s sign.
And for all those who have blindfolded themselves with prejudices, skewed notions of right and wrong …
I quote Mark Twain

” Never argue with stupid people . They will drag you down to their level and beat you with experience”. P.s – fight a good fight . – Ambika
#ambikawrites #riseandshine #leadbyexample #whatweneedtoteachkids

Respect Vs Authority


Sometimes people use “respect” to mean “treating someone like a person” and sometimes they use “respect” to mean “treating someone like an authority.”
And sometimes people who are used to being treated like an authority say “If you won’t respect me I won’t respect you” and they mean “if you won’t treat me like an authority I won’t treat you like a person.”
And they think they’re being fair but they aren’t, and it’s not okay.

And love … what they call love … its not what you say , its what you do and without respect it can never become a relationship.

How Do You Name ?


You think you can name it?
Or give it a vague , anonymous shade ?
You call it love ?
The promises, the carefully woven words, the kisses, the touch, the roses, the gifts , the poems, the care …
All a palace of cards !
You think you can frame it?
One day it becomes love,
The next day a fling,
Then an attachment ,
Then acquaintance,
And then just
the ‘other person’s desperation’.

I wonder how dark your soul could be,
I wonder how you face yourself,
I wonder what all can you put at stake ,
How many people . How many hearts .

And I wonder how do you name ?
How do you name Character ?
How do you name Trust ?
How do you name Friendship ?
How do you name Courage ?

And Above All Darling …
How do you name TRUTH ?
                   © Ambika Bhan

Digging The Sand


Like stranded travellers on a lonely island ,
Like some lunatics who have lost their memory ,
Like two old people taking sifting through dust clad black n white albums …

We meet ,
Encounter ,
Cross ways ,
Every now and then

Revisiting the lanes whose address we have long forgotten ,
Looking at pictures , just so …
Just so , as if our hearts don’t want them to become a faded memory …

Like two poor children having no toys ,
We dig deep into the bosom of the earth
Of the soil
With a short , sharp edged wooden branch…
Digging and digging in the rain
The rain that blends with the tears on our faces ,
And we drink the salty residues of streams flowing on our cheeks .

Drenched in sweat we see what we dug
A small valley ,
Deep in the soil as in our hearts ,
Filled by our tears ,
Enriched by some dried , broken grasses of our dreams …

But still we sit in silence ,
For now we don’t need words ,
We sit and see the shining sun ,
The sleeping , dreamy , soothing waves
Filling the valley that
We dug !!!

@Ambika Bhan
10.50 pm 5 Jan 2017