Hey, I've Loved Love Ever Since I Knew What Love Was. I Love The Thought Of Being In Love Or Even The

"No, I won't eat," 5-year-old me would say and slam the door with vexation after being rebuked by his mother. "You eat alone," he'd cry in response to the persistent calls, knowing at the same time that mom wouldn't take a single bite, leaving him hungry. After an hour or two, mom would be back with the plate, feed him with her own hands, and home would be where it was supposed to be. The pollen grains, I learned, dare to fly, soar, and flutter in the wind only 'cause they know there will be flowers to catch them.

A bad day at school. 15-year-old me would bitterly answer a question from mom and regret the entire night for yelling at her for no reason at all. He'd sit beside her the next morning and greet her with a sorry. "I didn't mean to..." he would utter, and mom, cheerful as ever, would respond with a smile by that time. "You needn't," she'd say, and ask with uneasiness, "What happened at school yesterday?" "You could reply to me in that way," she'd add with assurance, "'cause you cannot with the world. 'Cause you trust I'm the only one who won't take it to heart". He'd already be in tears, embrace his mom tightly, and home would be where it was supposed to be. The love I sought for ages, I learned, is a mother.

Shayan Das, excerpt from 'The Love I Learned'

Saying she had to be loved was an understatement; she deserved to be worshipped.

Shayan Das

Little did she know in the process of exploring me she would end up discovering more of herself.

Shayan Das

The duplicitous world has set enough examples of how self-love doesn't portray selfishness rather selfishness portrays self-love.

Shayan Das

My mother always says, "If ever you feel like life's way too unfair to you know that even one as this is a far-flung dream for millions".

Shayan Das

What comes to your mind when you behold the moon? Her beauty, her sobriety, her ataraxy? Does she arouse you with her esoteric charm or take you to an uncharted land where you lie composedly amidst your materiality and hallucinations? Whatever it may be, the bitter reality is that whatever the moon possesses is all borrowed from someone else, who in turn is rough, harsh, and relentless. But does it create any discrepancy? Don’t you love her? Or does she not bring you the memories of your foregone romance? Those promiscuous kisses and vehement embraces? In life, try to consume the acrimony of others and spread the art of mellowness through your moves, for, in the long run, it’s not what you receive but what you give that makes all the difference!

Shayan Das

Your vibe is just awesome. I can see your love for art and poetry and your live in your writings. Just wanna say...keep it going, all the best!!! (Also.....just mentioning that you are the type of guy I look for and I love ❤)

Too many compliments to assimilate at once. Thank you so much and wish you a great day/evening/night ahead!! <3

I discovered self-love that very day when I extended my arms to embrace your delusional form and ended up embracing myself.

Shayan Das

"So, what of next year's resolutions?", I heard my friend ask the other day and found myself stuck in a quiet storm, stirring the ache of all the changes I'd wished for but never lived this year. New days, new weeks, new months, new years—how often I've chased the illusion of 'new', convinced that everything would start from the very beginning—only to find myself, each day, pleading for the following day—begging each week for another week. How dearly I've celebrated the turning of each year, like prophets ushering in salvation, only to discover the freshness of the same calendar fading by February, the corners dog-eared, and promises—so solemnly sworn—becoming ghosts lingering in the silence of unkempt rooms. As if the trees that shed their twigs in autumn do not grow the same leaves with the same roots in spring—as if when flipping pages in a book, the story never retains its plot—as if the mere change of a night could unshackle the chains of a lifelong sorrow.

Shayan Das, New Year's Resolutions