The Creatively Frustrated

'Stay,hold and keep playing' Forgotten vibes now The chords have changed, the curtains unfamiliar. Do you see what I see? Nah. Spotlight's blinding me. You shuffle, almost without notice. Not a clutter from the audience in front. Am I alone? I gaze to my right; 'Stay,hold and keep playing' Its not even a spectacle anymore. Distrust heaving me down. My work with the dangling puppets was much better, atleast recognizable. 'Stay,hold and keep playing' It worked better with my last play. Confident, and divine, I stood so proud that the crowd couldnt spot even a glitch of hesitance. It was my stage, my audience, my theater. So, just 'Stay,hold and keep playing'? Unlikely. Make the curtains fall, the performance is over. With a slight drag, you stand up and walk away, hoping there wont be any callbacks. Abyss.

(This is a lengthy story based on actual facts. Episodes will be posted over a span of a few weeks. There are going to be NINE episodes in total. For Episode 3 click here . Enjoy!) [Pssst… Apologies for such a delay in the post. Exams are around the corner, scavenging on my brain.] Episode 4 Bahadur walks into his home like a zombie. He stands there at the door, watching his mother and sisters. No one notices that he has returned. “Bahadur! When did you arrive?” Amma asks. Bahadur just stares at her as if he’s gone deaf. His mouth is slightly open. His face shows no emotion. “Bahadur…?” “Uh… Yes… Yes I just came. Where’s Abba?” “He hasn’t come back yet. He’ll be late.” Amma goes towards the stove and stir’s the pot. A gush of steam makes eerie faces in the air. Bahadur sits on the charpoy and Baji brings him a glass of water. She sits beside him while he drinks. “What happened?” She whispers. “Nothing happened.” He whispers back. “Don’t lie to me! You look like you’ve seen a ghost. D...

Booked history. Meant to learn from ? You DO realise that you always end up on the wrong front. Redeemed faith, love. Falter again. You're fucked up. Dont feel bad. Its just you. Dang. How. I ask, what number will you test ? Yeah, just step on them. Have a damn fest. Your levels have dropped to unseen depths, How'd you be sought ? Death. So, just sketch on the dirt beneath you. You dont give a damn, like you'd feel bad if it cheats you. Wild smile. All your masks lay in front. Pick one ? Clown another. Soulless mortals, almost inaudible. Heh. Blame ! It cannot be you. Wild smile. Hysteria ? Bleed it out. So. You count rocks around. Yeah, fiddle with them. They are diamonds, you fool. Not a crap mound. Cry it out again. Its not like things would ever differ. The mirror people would over power you. Suffer. Laugh out loud. Laugh it out. Press hard. Clenched fist, open it. Fine, untampered dirt. Bowed head. Sway away. Maaz Tanveer.

(This is a lengthy story based on actual facts. Episodes will be posted over a span of a few weeks. There are going to be NINE episodes in total. For Episode 2 click here . Enjoy!) Episode 3 It’s the wedding day. Maheen is sitting in her room, in her gorgeous rust colored lainga . The top has no back only straps, which bind it together. She is arranging her hair. When she is done, she stands up, examines herself one more time in the full length mirror. She is more than satisfied with the reflection. She strolls towards Eemaan’s room, knocks on the door and enters. Eemaan is sitting on her bed. Maheen sucks her breath in at the sight of her. She is adorned in a traditional blood red sharara . Precious stones are embroidered on her dress in intricate flowery patterns. “You look absolutely beautiful.” Says, a gawking, Maheen. “Are you sure I look ok? Because I think the man who did my make up over did my eyes. And I don’t think my lipsticks color matches my dress. And the dress, do you ...

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(This is a lengthy story based on actual facts. Episodes will be posted over a span of a few weeks. There are going to be NINE episodes in total. For "Episode 1" click here . Enjoy!) Episode 2 Maheen wheels her bag out of San Francisco airport and looks around to see if anyone’s here to take her home. Right then a Lamborghini stops a few feet from her and from it emerges Eemaan, the 20 year old bride-to-be. She is clad in a pink sleeveless top and white Capri pants, a glittering pink hand bag hangs from her shoulder and her long dark hair flows down to her waist. “Maheeeeeennnn!!!!” she screams excitedly running to her in 5 inch high heels. She throws her arms around Maheen’s neck and kisses the air next to both her cheeks. “Oh. My. God. Maheen! You have gotten so sexy in the last year! My, My! Look at that figure! How do you do it girl? If only you wouldn’t tie that luscious hair of yours in that pony or bun or whatever it is, guys would be falling all over you- But I heard...

Half past twelve Can you see yourself? Half lit faces Incomplete stories surround Half hearted smiles Can you pick one to wear? Half and a quarter It should cease to matter