Ranjani Ramachandran Quotes

We were strangers under the same roof. We were perfect pretenders in the stage of the world.

One wrong step and my life would change drastically.

I have never tried to symbolize our relationship by planting a bamboo as you might have supposed, naming my child or visiting her back. For me, she is above all typification and our relationship is immortal. And I hope to have freed her today.

Happy be Thy world
The world forgetting by the forgotten world;
The failed attempts to remember the need to forget;

Naturally, Eventually, Gradually, Usually, Finally ; Thy Allies will accompany you and end this Abruptly.

For Thy, it may seem simple;

Oh Shameless Crook! Thy have done it before and will do it again and when thy does it -- seems that only the innocence weeps.

What is causing this mysterious perpetual air of inconvenience to slowly engulf the evening. It is not merely emptiness but an awakening in itself about nothingness.
Leave behind what was never yours and accept the fact that momentary pleasures and hideous treasures will perish too soon; so will your pride be snatched away by nothing. Mathematicians often say an instance tends to infinity. But, in actual sense, is anything even close to infinity?
Nullify yourself and disappear into zero, for that is what we call the beginning; the beginning of the end.

I am a Dancer; rehearsing the steps of our unheard song with utmost perfection.
Never will you tap your feet consciously.

I am a Singer; singing the tune of the song I always wanted you to hear.
Never will the melody bring back our memories to you.

I am an Orator; emphasizing and emoting what I feel for you.
Never will you hear your name throughout.

I am a Writer; penning all the unsaid intentions with sincerity.
Never will you see your name at the top.

Because at the end of it all I am Actor;
Nevertheless you taught me how well to pretend!

His cheek bones were protruding and eyes were sunk. I waved at him but he stole the gaze.

The world is full of travellers.
Once in a year go to someplace you have never been before.
You will meet Confused seekers, Hopeful wanderers, Enthusiastic story-tellers, Happy families.
Look into their eyes and stuff your eyes with wonder, live as if you'd drop dead any moment.
Look at the world. It's more beautiful than any dream you'd have ever seen.
Make the most beautiful travel diary and open it up your third generation because only your grandchildren will understand what your children will fail to.

His ego and complex always overpowered his emotions.

This is a secret which would have died with me, a secret between two people who don't exist anymore for each other.

As deep as the ocean, My rewards for you;
The more I give, the more I have;
As clear as the summer sky, My thoughts for you;
The more I long, the more I fade;
As mighty as the mountains, My prayers for you;
The more I ask, the more I get;

Because our love is one of a kind;
The one that will make you rise like never before; absolute and infinite;
The one that I will never fall from; if so only in your arms

Sahib, a bamboo doesn't flower, but usually when it does it dies. So I am metaphorical to this plant. Last night, I flowered. In the morning I died. I am not being guilty or unhappy regarding the occurrence sahib. I am in ecstasy. I never bloomed in my life, I did once and that was my last. What died is the desire to be alive in spite of repetition of events like I used
to, the strength to drink my sorrows and search happiness elsewhere not in you. We are bound by the rules of society, and I am a woman of morals. We both know things between us have changed and being around you would simply make no sense practically.

Heart; I named my lass sweetly;
She danced to the mundane tunes of daftness;
By nature she was midsummer madness;
Or rather a reckless, careless, devil-may-care colleen.

I pampered all her hefty desires;
Brain; my friend said treat her with caution;
For she is a child; doesn't ruminate her action;
You are mother, with deep devotion.

And one fine day came the tempest darling;
She named him love, besotted and infatuated;
Enchanted by his charms, smelled the roses;
Failed to see the thorns that pricked.

And drip-drip-drip, the blood it dripped;
When her beloved tossed and crushed her core;
She knew not how to stand up straight;
I opened my eyes and the driblets fell.

Don't nurse her; said my friend; my brain;
For she is a demented lass not worth the pain;
She will go away when her wounds are dried;
To her unmoved brutal hero, Love.

A mother cannot be unmoved, I cried;
For all this time, I held her high;
I knocked at your door, you flinty villain;
Not to hear, all that you said.

Call me a demon or a dragon;
For all I will say is don't nurse the brat;
Let her bleed and cry for some more time;
She will get up; for she is your child.

All he said was unerred truth;
She bled and nursed her own wounds;
She drove me to her hero's place; And said,

"This is where my poem stays.

I may say that I have forgotten a certain thing.
Partially false; it has just faded I know.
Unintentionally that thing might have prick-ed me more than the other things that I might have let go.
I will only understand its depth, if after years of persuasive erosions and new etch marks, I dream about you one fine night; having nothing to do with my present. Just some sweet-bitter memories might surface one day. And that one day I will regret and at the same time thank to have met you in my life.