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And this is the truth of our country and I will feel guilty of Being Indian if she will not get Justice.
Will be turning 23 in less than 12 hours. I am honestly blessed to meet such wonderful people in last couple of months that I can’t even imagine my life rn without them. I will always owe this to the universe for brining me close with the people I deserve and cherish whole heartedly. Iloveyou all so much🧿♥️
1st image: Art supplies by Big Lohan
2nd image: Stitch merchandise by Sofia and his boyfriend small Lohan
3rd image: Kuromi by Big Lohan
Old room, old images; 2023 was 2 years ago. Dangerous how the time flies by.
“Et in Arcadia ego”
(Even in Arcadia, there am I)
I will tear my heart out; before this cathedral of flesh lets me go
The pink ribbon scars remain, delicate inscriptions of things I never dared say aloud
I have bled in silence, tried to scour regret with ritual and rainwater… but it clings, a second skin, soft as memory, heavy as guilt
My angel wings; once alabaster, now bound in velvet chains; a slow suffocation beneath borrowed holiness
They ache when the wind moves.
They remember flight.
My belly burns with the echo of choices, each one a blade turned inward, an inheritance of fire
There is no absolution here; only the architecture of longing, and the dust that gathers in the mouths of the dead.
I gave you a love so vast it could have swallowed cities whole. I built galaxies in my chest just to make room for you, carved out pieces of my soul and called them home so you would never feel alone. I was there and offering, but you… you only ever loved the echo of me, the shadow I cast in your mind, not the woman who bled herself dry to be enough. You didn’t love me. You loved the idea of being loved by someone like me. And that was the slow undoing.
You were never really there, not when I shattered quietly in rooms we shared, not when I fell asleep hoping you would see me again, not just look at me. I held up the heavens for us while you watched, arms folded, eyes elsewhere. And still, I stayed. Still, I gave. Foolish, maybe. Devoted, definitely.
Now, that it’s all gone. I have crossed oceans of pain to reach a shore where your name doesn’t burn on my skin anymore. I am somewhere better, freer, lighter. And just when I have stitched myself together with gold thread and midnight prayers, you come back.
You come back with a whisper of apology, a handful of words you never had the courage to speak when I was drowning right in front of you. Why now? Why always after?
It is the cruel theater of time, isn’t it? The final act where ghosts knock at your door once you have already exorcised them. People see your worth only in absence, crave your presence only when it is no longer a gift they are entitled to. Love should never be a posthumous award.
And yet, here I am, haunted not by you, but by the echo of who I was when I loved you. And that is the deepest ache of all.
(Darjeeling’22)
“He’s the one who always lifts the lens with quiet reverence, capturing me in frames I never ask for. He knows I’m camera conscious, yet he clicks away like I’m a masterpiece in motion.
He never seeks the same in return, never turns the spotlight on himself, only smiles when I laugh, as if my joy is his reward. And truly, what’s more fascinating than a man in love? Not in grand declarations, but in the soft, unspoken gestures that make you feel seen, adored, safe.
When a man truly loves, the person beside him begins to bloom, and suddenly life tastes sweeter, time feels kinder, and everything broken begins to mend.
I wish I had the words to measure how fiercely I love him, how deeply I ache to be his, not just in this fleeting life, but in every realm beyond it, until stars fall silent and the universe forgets its own name. I feel blessed that I have him next to me.”
(Salvador Dali’s Art exhibition and others, VAG, February’25)
He does not know, that the world pauses for him, breath held,
Watching the art of him falling, calling it beauty While he calls himself blank.
If only you knew, how spellbound I am for you, watching the chaos of you, turning into stillness,
Watching your sorrow as it knows how to make everything shine.
(Darjeeling’21)
The town still haunts me, laced in lullabies, Where kin became the keepers of my fall. Their words were nettles dressed in silver light, Their love; a gilded cage like a funeral hall.
They laughed like witches dancing in the fire, While I, the ember, begged to turn to smoke. I breathed in brimstone dressed as blooming thyme, and woke each day beneath a phantom yoke.
The darkness kissed me soft, and made me kin. And though I flee, it lingers in my breath, that hallowed place, where all my wounds begin.
(Darjeeling’2021)
“She falls, not like rain, nor like the weeping of skies, But in pirouettes; each flake… A whispered secret spun from the breath of stars.
How happy she looks, gilded in sunlight, blushing at the glances of children, stretching herself across fields… Like she’s always belonged.
Yet in her mirror, she sees only glass.
Not the frost laced wonder, not the shimmer in her descent,
But an absence; a definite pale ache…”
When I see them, I can only think about Van Gogh’s Almond Blossom if they were painted seasonally.
[Darjeeling’23, seasonal hue of Autumn and Spring]
There’s something about them, something so astonishingly different, yet they mean the same on a grandeur spectrum. The flowers given to me verses the flowers I gave to him which culminates the same desires at the end of the day. I am lost in translation when I see these pictures and think of the things that I prayed for, so deeply yet so patiently that I manifested unknowingly.
I bagged the most hottest and the most romantic dude from Tumblr (it’s a sign for you girls too)
Salvador Dali’s exhibition was fun
“I love lilies. Blue lilies but they are so hard to find…”
Were the words that he told me the moment I asked him what he adores the most. It took me a while to make his vision my reality and I am so happy how it turned out.
I know his admiration and love for Vincent Van Gogh, and how he collects every little piece that he finds that resonates with the artist. Because of his biased nature for Vincent’s aesthetics and of course his love for lilies, I crocheted Starry Night themed lily bouquet for him, with two sunflowers that resonates the moon and frame of the painting.
I know he will love this more than anything and I hope to make him smile just the way he will when see these flowers I made for him.
I like Live Photo’s sm❤️🩹
2 mins because he knew I would cry for an hour out of joy. I am grateful for everything in my life right now♥️🧿
“If only you would have asked me a year ago that one random evening I’ll meet someone like you out of the blue, then we would fall for eachother hopelessly, co-parent a cat for some time, until we move in together under the same roof and plan on adopting more feline creatures by the end of the coming year, together… I would have laughed so hard.”
My beautiful girl
She loves her dad more than me istg
From being a student to a guest lecturer, I manifested everything that I believe I ever wanted🧿
Indraprastha College for Women, Delhi’25
Kaam Challa by Madhur Virli
The Laugh Store, Gurgaon,01.01.2025
My pov vs his.
(Brown dad core of a feline creature)
Recents on Pinterest <3
(@sumedhachatterjee1505)
From surviving to generously falling in love with this city, I found love that I can finally gate keep.
July-December, Delhi’2024
I aspire to have it all—
The drive to create my own niche in this god forsaken city
But suddenly, I’ve realised that the simple joy of you playing with my hair is the only treasure I pray for.
That’s the only thing I will ever fight for.
“He looked into my eyes and softly whispered how much this meant to him, holding on tightly as if he would never let go. My mind couldn’t help but tear up in front of him as his grip tightened. ‘You are the most beautiful person I have ever met, and I love you so much.’ I had never experienced love before. What is this feeling that suddenly made me cry without guilt? How can someone be so haunted yet so kind when every door has been shut in front of him?”
Miss Yukio Chatterjee Lohan
“I really want to meet his mother and give her all my love and affection in return for the son she bought into this world. Thank you for bringing such a kind soul who knows how to treat a person generously. I love your son, unconditionally and vividly that I want to be next to him for all eternity. Your son is healing something that he did not break, in the first place. Thank you for bringing him into this world so that we could happen for this eternity. I truly want to treat the two of you beautifully.
Yours truly,
Sumedha.”
[In frame: A Gerbera Daisy and a plushie that beholds a very beautiful purpose. My chronic episodes of nightmare and anxious panic attacks have been keeping me awake for weeks now. Even after all the efforts he has done from his end to make me feel safe, nights have been hauntingly hard. He believes that his gift will help me sleep better as he won’t be there next to me every night. He gifted me this for a better sleep. I pray every woman in this planet ends up with a human like him. Every person deserves a human being like my man.]
There were days where I held myself back down, days where I shut my heart down. But then, you came along with the pieces of your mending heart; clenching deep within your hands as you held them out to me. I saw you bleed, as you saw mine, when I held out my hands to reach yours. You didn’t flinch, neither did you stop me. A voice perhaps told you “It’s okay, she is bleeding too” as we simply held onto eachother. The wounds got deeper as we embraced one another. “I know it hurts, as it hurts me too, but we will be okay. You will be okay my love.”