Subtle Drilling Of Life

Can You Hear Me NOW rev

Today, like every day is weird and special in its ways. The constant voices in my head and the annoying noises outside has already stormed my brain, yet, for some unknown reason I feel like tapping the keyboard with all the energy I have, and to scribble this note with all those words that have been speaking loud in my head since morning. I want you to read, because I am sure this isn’t just happening with me.

Perplexed by my own thoughts, I went to my mother to ask a plain yet intricate question. Our mothers have always been better than Google and wise than any book. I asked her, “Is life a problem or life has problems?” Without much thinking she answered positively saying that, “How can life ever be a problem? Don’t you see yourself as a life? How can you be a problem? Life has obstacles, and there always will be, in some or the other way, so that you learn about the opportunities.” After she cleared my thoughts about life and problem she asked me, “What are you up to now?” Like always, I replied, “You know my tiny brain over thinks, everyday.” To this she said nothing. She is a mother after all. She knows it all.

So, today around 11 in the morning, the constant and ear bleeding noise from the drill machine not only gave me a headache, but surprisingly some wise thoughts too. (See here, the over thinking part is justified.) Even you would have got furious by the drilling noise during reconstructions. After a headache and temporary deafness, we would say, “I hate this. I hate reconstruction.” But then, everybody wants to reconstruct their houses some point in time; when it is done we would contradict ourselves and say,” Ah, I love the idea of reconstruction. Look, how everything shines and looks beautiful.” This is how we are living our lives as well.

You must have been wearied by the sameness in your life. After this thought, you would have felt exhausted even while doing nothing, and then you decided to change or prioritize few things so that your life gets a direction. But the important thing here is that, does it come easily? Does the work of prioritization that simple? Does moving away from old things to new easy? Does a reconstruction in your life easy? No, it is as painful as much as the noise of that drill machine.

The wall is our life, the one we try to build the way we want throughout our lives. Bricks are like parasites that stick to the wall. Just like the drill machine breaks each brick of the wall, and makes space so that a new wall can be build, the same happens with life. The drill machine is you and all the hardships, obstacles, loss, failure, depression, anxiety, fear, sorrow, incompetent, disappointment, defeat, frustration and weakness are the bricks that build up the negative wall for cowards. The noise that the drill machine produces while breaking down the wall is the pain of our hard work. If we want the drill machine to break all the bricks so that we can build up a new wall and paint it with the color of our choice, we have to bear the noise it produces. Similarly, if we want to grow by defeating all hardships that come in life, we will have to bear the pain of the hard work or else there will only be pain from regrets which are undoubtedly more painful. It wouldn’t be easy at first, maybe not the second time as well, but gradually we’ll become strong enough to break them down. That’s how our new wall will be build. That’s how our life will be what we wanted it to be and how we wanted it to be.

I just know that tomorrow when again I will hear the noise of the drill machine, it will remind me that I have to break down my old wall to build a new one where I can put all my happy pictures.

– Kritika Vashist



Insight disguised as an award

To my amazement, there are three amazing bloggers who have nominated me for Liebster Award. So the count reaches to 3 and next level of trying to believe in all the appreciation that I am receiving.
Thank you, Rob, Ifrah and Archita. You guys have been too kind to nominate me for this ‘dearest’ award.
To my fellow bloggers, do check out their blogs, they have some amazing pieces you would want to read.

I am writing this to answer their questions and as few bloggers here say, ‘an insight into a person’s mind.

Questions asked by Rob and Ifrah :

1. What country do you blog from?
A- India.

2. What was your favorite childhood movie?
A- I was such a nerd that I didn’t watch movies. Thus, I can’t seem to remember if any movie was my favorite.  I read only books.

3. Cats or dogs?
A- Cats, anytime.

4. What kind of music do you prefer?
A- One which soothes. I am not genre specific. I love to explore music.

5. Coffee or tea?
A- That’s like asking, oxygen or water? I need both to survive.

6. What’s the most daring thing you’ve done?
A- Giving audition for Western music society of my college, singing a song in front of a goddamn crowd when I knew I have an unmeldoic voice and I sing off-key. Believe me, it was daring. I was the first person on their audition list and first person on their elimination list. Sigh! (However, this doesn’t stop me from singing. I sing a song daily.)
After all to me,

7. Beaches or amusement parks?
A- Beaches if they are silent.

8. What is your favorite song today?
A- Drive Home- Steven Wilson

9. What are you reading now?
A- A Midsummer Night’s Dream by William Shakespeare

10. Name a place that you would like to visit some day.
A- Paris. Seriously! Take me along if someone plans a visit there.

Questions by Arpita :

1. How did you come up with your first blog title?
A- I did not think for too long to decide the title, to speak frankly. When the column appeared where I had to write the title, I wrote what came to my mind. Words came like flowing water. My blog name has plain words; however, I believe that these words have spoken more than I have ever said. ‘From the Soul to the Nib of the Pen’ is true and is my identity now.

2. Who is your favourite hollywood star?
A- Channing Tatum *drolls*

3. What is the name of your favourite tv show?
A- F.R.I.E.N.D.S

4. If you were to have a library of your own, which genre of books would they have the most?
A- I like to read in a room that doesn’t have walls of genre. If I haven’t read a thriller and you suggest me one, I will read. I want to have a library that has got every damn book!

5. What type of food do you prefer the most?
A- Indian Food.

6. Who is your favourite author?
A- Khaled Hosseini

7. If you get a chance to go on a world tour with a celebrity (any field), who would that person be?
A- Hrithik Roshan. *awestruck*

8. Who is your favourite blogger?
A- I never thought about it. I won’t think about it ever. Everybody is creative here, and it would not be wise of me to judge someone based on my biased opinions.

9. Arrange these in your preference order: career, food, love?
A- Love, Career, Food (Note: Romantic love is not the only love)

10. Which one is your own favourite post?
A- I have written that post, but haven’t shared it yet. I’ll share it soon.
Second would be – When Death Took Her Away. I don’t know for what reasons I love this poem.

So, that is it.
Since I am not nominating anyone, I am not framing any question.

Thank you Rob, Ifrah and Archita, once again. Hope I answered your questions well. 🙂
Thank you everyone, for reading.

Stay awesome. Cheers!

– Kritika Vashist



Nano poems on ‘Clavicles

“Let my words rain on your clavicles
I’ll taste the purest from there
leaving peerless imprints of my ink
like a rainbow in the sky.”

“I don’t quite remember
any poetry that I wrote
except the one
I had written on her clavicles. ”

“I wasn’t an accomplished painter
until my hands had discovered
and my colors had painted
on quintessential curves of her clavicles.”

“Sunlight falling on her clavicles
the mountain like curves
the warmth of her skin
the color of her skin unifying with the sunshine
I swear, I would not have regret
drowning myself in her
heavenly glorious volcano.”

“Tell me something you had always wished?”
She asked while the lights shimmered like a shy.
“If I could be that mole on your clavicles
I’d have stayed with you, gone with you.”

– Kritika Vashist

Do You See?


Do you see that poor child
with sweat running down his face
standing under the blazing sun
selling vegetables
of his empty belly.
Do you?

Do you see that rich child
with aggression on his face
under the same blazing sun
shouting at the driver for not turning on the AC
of  his abundance car.
Do you?


Do you see that dark-skinned man
with sweat running all over his chest
wearing a faded ripped jeans
picking bricks to build a house
of somebody else’s dream.
Do you?

Do you see that suited man
highly infuriated
standing some feet away
fluffing the dust
of his own luxury.
Do you?


Do you see that frail old woman
with body almost starved to death
at a corner of the road
trying wiping her face wet with tears
of loneliness.
Do you?

Do you see that young couple
with glamour faces, holding a food bag
taking out an extra burger
throwing in the dustbin
of someone’s daily meal.
Do you?


Do you see that crippled boy
with painful smile on his face
moving through the crowd
trying to sell an inexpensive pen
of his illiteracy.
Do you?

Do you see that school girl
with sadness on her face
complaining to her dad
for not getting her branded colours box
of someone’s darkness.
Do you?


Do you see that smiling girl
with satisfaction on her face
wearing a school uniform
trying to fit her foot in brother’s shoe
of pennilessness.
Do you?

Do you see that football fan
with an unsatisfied look on his face
complaining to his dad
for not getting Nike, but Rebook shoe
of someone’s labour
Do you?

-Kritika Vashist

(July, 2014)

मुदतो (Short and vague English translation)

आज ना जाने कितने मुदतो बाद तेरी जुबा पे आया मेरा नाम है
देख रहा तू मुझे उन्हीं चुराई हुई नज़रो से
लगता है आज शायद मुझसे तुझे कोई काम आया हैं।

– कृतिका

English Translation : Lover is saying to the person who left her/him that;
“Today, after ages, you have my name on your lips and you are looking at me with those eyes that stopped seeing me, and I think you probably have come here to ask for a favor.”

Nothing of Me


There is nothing of my own,
none of my poems,
or an unsung song.

There is nothing more whole,
nothing more infinite
than my ever devoted soul.

Musing floating in the space,
scattered words trying to trace,
in the little universe inside me,
the one that believes,
despite what crafted world says,
nothing, but love reveals;
whatever I am,
whatever I was.

There is nothing this nature hasn’t shown;
There is nothing of me I haven’t known.

From the winds,
speaking for my feisty sail,
an unheard, unknown tale.

From the moonlight,
veiling my unfrequented face,
leaving an imperceptible trace.

From the infinity of sky,
embracing my love’s agelessness,
raining my love’s melancholiness.

Nothing but,
the poems I write,
nothing of which is mine;
a rumination of that mystical love,
residing in me.

Day after day,
I realize,
nothing of me is possible to think,
nothing of me is possible to ink.

In gaze and stillness,
I realize,
nothing of me was ever adulterated,
it was nothing,
but a liberation unstated.

There is nothing of me I haven’t known.
The poems I write
The songs I sing
In the wind that blows
When the night falls.
from the tiny universe within.

This world knows nothing of me;
The warmth of my love,
the bitterness of my love.

This world knows nothing of me;
Of what I am,
of what I could be.

– Kritika Vashist

(Lately, I have been feeling as if few abstruse thoughts and philosophies of life, which, I think and write are not what I decided to, but a force within takes my hands and places them on the keyboard and makes them to draw the words I wanted to keep to myself somewhere beneath the soul, where nothing of me and no one can reach.)

In the Wildness of the Night


In the wildness of the night,
when the stars were veiled
by the silvery grey clouds,
and the moon had ruled the roost.
I hark back to your soulfully intoxicated
love that reigned over me,
in the wildness of the night.

The space around burned in passion.
The heaven had came down,
entered a life groaning in pleasure,
while the scorpion of love
bit me all over in leisure.

The steady movement of the scorpion,
carpeted all of me,
injected me with love poison, overwhelmingly.

Deeply immersed in the intoxication,
My body tripped in ecstasy.
Like the venomous grey clouds of the night,
insaneness enveloped my bones and skin.

The peerless moonlight in the dark,
authoritative of the wildness,
shed a soft glow,
while the scorpion of love
warmed the skin slowly and slowly.

I hark back to your irresistible scent.
The heavy breath,
while your skin chafed mine.
The intense dance of insanity around.
The alluring scorpion bites,
which numbed me, euphorically.

Breathing the contentment,
feeling your love all over me,
I had wish to die,
drowning in your intoxicated love,
in the wildness of the night.

– Kritika Vashist



In silence,
their tongues were tied,
and faces have worn,
a smile so wide.

In heart,
the unspoken words were listened,
while they gazed,
and the shine in the eyes had risen.

In nervousness,
the desire to have each other,
did not enshroud,
but, they couldn’t sight it further.

In Mamihlapinatapei,
they were caught.

(Mamihlapinatapei : The word Mamihlapinatapai (sometimes spelled mamihlapinatapei) is derived from the Yaghan language of Tierra del Fuego, listed in The Guinness Book of World Records as the “most succinct word” and meaning; A wordless, yet meaningful look between two people who both desire to initiate something, but both are too scared to initiate themselves.)

-Kritika Vashist