The girl on the balcony (Chapter-6)

This is the last chapter… Hope you like it

Where I am meant to be…

I was out on my balcony again. This time just pondering. Why did I like being out there so much? Why couldn’t I just be in my room? And I found it; I found the reason why.

Sitting inside a room for too long is like rebreathing the same air. Rebreathing the same air is equivalent to having the same experiences over and over again. And, I can’t stand it. I can’t stand having the same experiences over and over again. 

I’m not meant to be inside closed doors and walls. The more I stay in, the more suffocated I feel. That’s why I look forward to the world outside, for it makes me feel free and liberated. 

I see people doing their namaz; people enjoying the weather; people vibing to music, and whatnot. In a way, observing them, allows me to have the same experience as they’re having. When I look at them, I don’t feel like I’m just a girl on the balcony. I feel like I’m looking through their glasses, and seeing the world as they see it. Maybe, some of them see me too. And they wonder, how I see this world. At times, the thought of being observed scares me. But, in the end, they’re only going to see what I show them, and it goes the same way around: I’m only seeing what they’re showing me – life.

The girl on the balcony (Chapter-5)


Hope you’re enjoying the series. Just telling you that this chapter specifically is fiction; nothing this exciting could really happen in my life, okay? 😂

Now go on, read Chapter-5. I’m kinda excited for you to read this…

Looking through his glasses…

I was standing on the balcony with him. He had his elbows on the ice-cold railing. I wondered how he didn’t feel cold. Although my covered back was against the railing, I could still feel the cold from the railing sting my skin, through my grey t-shirt.

I crossed my arms and leaned back, tilting my head upwards, and looking at the granite-like sky. Even though it was all darkish above, the horizon seemed to have managed to borrow a little orange from the setting sun. The orange from the Sun made the horizon a beautiful lilac. At that moment I realized, that he was the most beauteous shade of orange in my life; he changed the dark edges of my soul into a gorgeous lilac.

I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t stand having such a beautiful person like him love such a hopeless person like me. So, I had to ask him why he chose to stay with me.

“What is it that you see in me, that makes you want to love me?”

He contemplated for a while, and I didn’t bother to ask him again, because I knew he would eventually answer. I’m a person who can’t answer the simplest of questions that people ask me about them. Like:

“What do you think are my flaws?”
“What do you find best about our friendship?”

And, so on…

So, I know how hard it is to answer such questions, even when you know the answer very well. After a few moments, even though he broke the beautiful silence between us, he fixed me with what he said:

“Your world. I see the exquisite world in your eyes. That’s what I see in you, and that’s what others fail to see. People fail to see the beauty in your soul, they fail to see the world you create with your ever-so-lovely and intricate thoughts. Being able to witness all this makes me want to love you. I love everything about you: I love the way you breathe so delicately, though you blew me away every time you opened your mouth; I love the way your eyes light up when you talk about us; I love the way you live, unlike the others who just exist, and I love the way you throw your thoughts at me like I’m your diary. These are not reasons, for I don’t need reasons to love you. These are just four out of the infinite things I love about you. And I know I will never stop loving you…”

I’m not a very romantic person, and those who are close to me know this. I don’t show romantic gestures often, and I don’t expect people to be romantic with me as well. But, this wasn’t romance. What I saw was passion: his passionate love for me. And, that overwhelmed me, because I had never seen such kind of love for me. No one had ever dared to love me ever so passionately, as he did. It was mainly because no one could ever figure me out, neither could he, but he was okay with it, knowing that I liked it; I liked being a mystery.

I didn’t utter a word for a while, because that’s what I do when true emotions come out of people. What they say about me may not be true, but what they feel for me is as true as it can be.

I find it hard to accept so much love, just like Stephen Chbosky said in The Perks of Being a Wallflower, “We accept the love we think we deserve.”

Despite all my personal beliefs, the contradiction is that this is one of the best feelings in the world; to matter to someone, to be more than just a composition of atoms. So, I turned towards him, gave him a big warm smile, and hugged him tightly. Just before reaching out to hug him, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in his spectacles, and at that moment, I knew what he saw when he looked at me.

His mind-reading skills surprise me at times, for what he said next was just what I needed to hear. He said, “Every time you doubt yourself, I want you to look through my glasses, and see what I see when I look at you: a beautiful, free-spirited and brave soul, who’s capable of doing magical things.”

I did look through his glasses that day. The picture wasn’t exactly clear, but I didn’t mind the distorted view. I think I know enough…

The girl on the balcony (Chapter-4)


Please read the previous chapters before you read this, it’ll be much better. Hope you’re liking these views I’ve been sharing from my balcony…

Well this time, it’s different. I’m not the one on the balcony, someone else is…

If you want to find out what happens, read with me Chapter-4 of ‘The girl on the balcony’!

Working out those muscles…

I had already gone up-down about 8 times when I saw someone standing on their balcony and watching me work out. 

This time, I wasn’t the one on the balcony, he was. I was hanging upside down from the monkey bar in the garden, and he could see me clearly from his place. I continued doing my upside-down crunches in the attempt of getting abs. After doing a good amount of exercise, I started playing badminton with my sister. While playing badminton, when I looked at his balcony, I saw him working out, and I could hear some music. The music was the kind with lots of beats and stuff because he was working out. 

After a good game of badminton, my sister left me to myself and went back home. I’m sure when he looked at me then, he would have thought I was dying because I kinda was. I had cramps from all the ab and leg exercises, and the badminton match was pretty hardcore too.

He was done with his workout too, and his music suddenly changed from the workout-kind to my type of music. I was about to go back home, but then he played ‘Tum Jab Paas’, and I found myself standing stoic; I couldn’t go back home then, could I? I decided to walk there, just to listen to the songs he played. I lip-synced as I lurked there. He played ‘Tere Bina’ after that, and I found myself lip-syncing to it too. It was a different feeling altogether, and I felt so relaxed after such an exhausting day. It was bliss! Unfortunately, after a while, I had to go back home, but I will never forget this moment; it was a little moment, but it had to be treasured.

The girl on the balcony (Chapter-3)


You’ve probably read Chapter-1 and Chapter-2 of this story. If not, you have the chance now.

This entire story is a compilation of my observations and most of it is fiction, so don’t take me too seriously 😜😂

Anyways, let’s move on to Chapter-3…

The peahen that danced in the storm…

It was a summer evening, yet it felt like monsoon. The wind was strong that day, and it carried a million dust particles along with it. I’m not a big fan of dust flowing into my face, but I love the wind, and I was out on the balcony only for the breeze. 

Suddenly, it started thundering and lightning, and it felt like the sky started pouring down all its intense emotions down on me. I stood by the railing and embraced all the raindrops, as I closed my eyes. This was a feeling like no other. 

I felt so exhilarated, that I excitedly laughed every time the sky filled up with thunder and lightning. I know it looks scary to a lot of people, but I found it calming. Something about it was serene, and it made me crazy, yet sane. I don’t know if I’m making sense, but it’s just very hard to explain that feeling. 

I set my laptop up just by the door to my room and played my playlist consisting of some of the best songs to listen to on your balcony with a cup of coffee. It was the playlist I had been working on for the past few days, I finally found the occasion to use it. If you want to listen to my playlist, then click here

I let myself free and danced to the music like a peahen dancing in the rain. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a boy (most probably a teenager near to his 20s) in one of the balconies opposite to mine, watching me. I was being watched all this time, and I was still being watched, but I didn’t care. I had been the stalker every time, but this time I was the one being stalked. But, I was too into my element to have cared about it, for I continued to do whatever I was doing. 

I’ve seen him quite a lot of times. He seems to be a person who enjoys chilling on the balcony like I do. And, he’s the only person in all of the balconies who notices me. He’s an observer too, it seems. We often find ourselves just looking at each other, with nothing to say (as if we can hear each other without shouting, in this distance). I like it when people are observant; they seem to have a more vivid memory. I believe, when you’re unobservant, you’re also being ignorant, and life isn’t to be ignored. Something about him intrigues me to know him, and I hope I do someday.

The girl on the balcony (Chapter-2)


I hope you enjoyed Chapter-1 of this story. If you haven’t read that, you can give it a read here.

Now, let’s move on to Chapter-2…

The boy who always brings a smile to my face…

I don’t know how he does it, but every time I happen to look at him, he’s doing something that automatically plants a smile on my face. He lives in one of the apartments in the society that’s opposite to mine, and I get a vague view of his balcony. He’s probably a 12 or 13-year-old (I might be wrong), but he always manages to do something childish, yet cute.

I mostly see him doing laundry or hanging clothes on the balcony with his mother. The first time, I saw him trying to kiss his mother on both her cheeks while she was trying to do her work. Something about it seemed beautiful.

Once, his balcony was filled with water, probably from the rain. He held a wiper in his hand, while his mother wiped the floor with a mop. He suddenly started splashing the water by tapping his feet on the floor, as a 3-year-old would. Something about this seemed lovely as well. 

This time, I saw him standing on his balcony with his younger sister (I assume), and he started playing with her hair, making braids, undoing them and irritating her on the whole. I think I saw a lost part of me in him; the lost childish me, who I wish would come back at times.

The girl on the balcony (Chapter- 1)

Dear reader,

I know I have been away for a relatively long time. I haven’t been active here: I didn’t post or read any of your work as well, which I will try doing now. A thank you to those who still read my work, despite me not reading theirs, and to those who’ve stuck around for so long, supporting me.

While I’ve been away, I didn’t stop writing completely, and so I’m going to share what I’ve been writing all this time. It’s going to be different than my previous writings, since I’m trying to explore a different side of mine. It might surprise you, but I hope you like this change…

I hope you enjoy reading this piece of fiction. It’s a short story, but I’m publishing it in parts/chapters, so it’s easier for you to read.

Tip: welcome this with an open mind.

Welcome to my balcony! Chapter 1 begins here…

Naming the family…

My fingers wrapped around a cup of cold coffee (because it’s spring, and I can drink my coffee chilled, without having mum scold me); sitting on the balcony with Mrs Bewakoof, Jr Bewakoof 1, Jr Bewakoof 2 and Jr Bewakoof 3 (in an egg, being hatched).

If you’re wondering who the Bewakoof family is, it’s the family of pigeons living on the floor drain on my balcony. And, if you’re wondering why I’ve named them all Bewakoof, it’s because ‘bewakoof’ means ‘brainless’ in Hindi, and pigeons are the most brainless creatures I’ve ever seen. I’m serious. Mrs Bewakoof decided to build her nest on the floor drain on my balcony. And then, she lay two pale-white eggs on that clumsy drain-based nest. I mean, I’ve given full justice to their name, haven’t I?

A letter to all humans

Dear human,

Do you ever wonder what the world would be like without pain? What would happen if we were all happy all the time; if there’d be no sad, distressed or depressed souls? I say there’d be no art or artists in such a world. Being an artist (writer) myself, I know how art is a refuge to so many of us. Refuge from the pain, the pain that eventually becomes an inspiration to us.

Also, do you think we would have valued or desired all the good things and happiness in life if we hadn’t known what pain was? If we hadn’t ever been sad or heartbroken, would we have made paintings, written songs and books about pursuing happiness and love? No, we wouldn’t have. We’d just be constantly smiling robots in a utopian world for our entire lives. I mean, that’s where we lose the essence of life. That isn’t what life means! The purpose of our existence is not what we think it is; life isn’t asking us to be eternally happy, it’s asking us to embrace happiness and pain both as we live. 

There’s a certain beauty to death as well, and I intend to see that beauty. What’s beautiful about death is that, when you’re dying, death does more to the people around you than it does to you. In the same way, l think, your life affects other lives. Deep down, I think all of us are grieving. Some of us show it, some of us don’t. 

Some people don’t want to be consoled when they’re distressed. I’m there for such people, for I will not mourn with you, nor will I console you. I will only listen and acknowledge your pain, and sometimes, that’s all one needs – a listener. 

I don’t know you, you don’t know me either. And, in the end, we don’t even know ourselves or each other as well as we think we do. But, art brings out the life in us, and I think there’s an artist in all of us. 

I just want you to know, that your thoughts are welcome in my world. Expressing yourself is art too, so feel free to reach out to me, and share whatever you’d like to. I may be younger or older than you, but that shouldn’t matter, for sometimes, a difference in age brings out a different perspective too. If it’s the first time you’re reading my blog, then write back to me. And, if we haven’t talked in a long time, then also write back to me, for I want to listen to what you have to say. Let’s talk about life, death, love, pain- anything! Let’s just talk, because I know that both of us have a lot to say, and a lot to share. 

A reminder:- It’s okay to feel pain. I know it’s cliche, but it’s okay to not be okay. Just don’t let the pain consume you. Don’t let it linger. And, if it helps, talk about it. You can take me into consideration when you think about sharing your thoughts. I’ll always be there when you need me to listen to you…

From one human to another,

Sending love 💜

and you returned…

You told me to fix you

But I couldn’t

Coz I was broken too…

I don’t have the keys

So, I’ll break up the locks

To see all your hidden thoughts

Oh, your life is a mystery

Your childhood a history

I’m waiting for you to spill the tea,

Spill the damn tea

Oh, I just want to see

Where I stand in your dreams

To you, how do I seem?

Oh, how do I seem?

For you are the only soul I met,

The others were dead bodies in our world

Like a phoenix, you just burned

So, I collected your ashes

And you returned…

All the clothes I wear are older than me

But I still have you beside me

And I need you to tell me how much you love me

Coz I love you to the moon and back

And I need to know if we’re on the same old track

When I was silent 

You thought I was mute

But all I did was

Shout loud at you

All my keys don’t work until you

Play me like a piano when you’re blue

When you’re blue

Oh, when you’re blue

You are the only soul I met,

The others were dead bodies in our world

Like a phoenix, you just burned

So, I collected your ashes

And you returned

Ah, you returned

Oh, you returned

(You returned, didn’t you?)

~Kamya Seervi

Ok, so this was my first attempt to writing a song, which I obviously couldn’t pull off, but I like how raw it is, and so I’m sharing it here. I know it’s super cringey (😂😅), and that you regret reading this in the first place, so forgive me for presenting this to you. On a side note, I did enjoy writing it, and I think it’s after long that I’ve written something light like this.

It wasn’t sounding as good as I wanted it to (probably, because I don’t know how to sing), but I think I’ll try giving this piece of lyrics a chance to be transformed into an actual song. Let me know what you think, despite all the cringe 😂

A mysterious star

My hunger for meaning and validation brought me 33.9 million miles away from home. I never knew that I’d long to go back to the place, that I’ve been trying to run away from all my life.

Oblivion has never seemed as settling as it is now, since space is already considered to be infinite and full of strange possibilities. I’m just floating or I’d rather say drifting away from comfort into the cosmic universe, which is now my sad reality, until I die (that’s certain).

How am I so sure? Well, I’m stranded in a vacuumed space called ‘space’, with my partner, who is passed out. Our space suits are now struggling to provide us with enough oxygen, so I’m basically going to die of hypoxemia with a person who doesn’t even know my real name.

I’m going to die. Isn’t everyone going to? I should be glad that I’m not dying ordinarily, like everybody else does.

I hear someone gasping for air. Is it her? Am I really not alone?

As I see her open her pretty little hazel eyes, my eyes start to swell up with balls of tears. I can’t even shed my last tears. God, space is really messing with me!

My eyes sting from all the tears sticking to my eyeballs, and I see myself hugging her as tightly as I could in that giant space suit. She tries shedding a few happy tears too, but again, we’re in space.

“How long have I been out?” she asks.

“2 hours,” I say.

“That’s not possible. You’re lying.”

“No, I’m not!”

“It’s been 5 minutes, isn’t it?”

“How did you…?”

She cuts me off. “So, I’m right. Why did you lie?”

“Well, it felt like 2 hours, and I wanted to make you feel awful about leaving me alone, and passing out in such a situation.” She’s good at catching lies, I think.

“You’re such a child, Robert!”

Robert. Robert. Robert. Robert. My mind fills with the echoes of this word. I question myself: Do I really want to die being Robert? If it’s my last moment, I should really be living it as my real self, as Benjamin, not Robert (a guy I created using my imagination to hide my real self).

She seems to be lost in her own world of thoughts. We’re facing our backs towards each other, and I interrupt her silent yet loud conversation with her own self, by saying, “Audrey… I need to tell you something. I haven’t exactly been honest with you all this time.”

“Your name’s not Robert, you don’t have a wife, nor did you ever go to a high school.” She sounds extremely confident, when she says it.

“She really is good at catching lies,” I mutter.


“And, she has ears as sharp as a dog’s,” I mutter again.

“I can hear you,” she says as to notify me.

“God, this stupid microphone!”

“Maybe next time, try keeping it to yourself, or better, say it to my face, rather than speaking behind my back.”

“Can we at least not try being mean to each other right now?” I try diluting the conversation.


Though, I can’t help myself, but ask, “By the way, how did you know that I was lying about my identity?”

She sighs, “I’ve spent most of my life writing characters. I know when a person is who they say they are.”

“Wait. You’re a writer?” I sound too surprised. It’s not like she’s an arsonist.

“I wouldn’t exactly say that. I was just a girl trying to channelize her vivid imagination into something that didn’t land her in trouble.”


“Does it seem like I still have that imagination?”

“I don’t know. It seems like you’ve got a lot to say and offer to this world. Unfortunately, the world’s not lucky enough to have the whole of you.”

“Well, the universe will soon have the whole of me and you, wouldn’t it?”

“And, you’re okay with that?” I ask.

“Yeah,” she says calmly.

“I don’t get it. I’ve spent my entire life being a mystery. I never let anyone have too much of me, and you… you’re just happily giving yourself away to the universe. How?”

“You know, my biggest fear is being forgotten. I wrote, so I wouldn’t be forgotten. My thoughts would still exist in this world, even if I didn’t. My words would still be heard, even if I wasn’t there to say them. Now, that I know I exist in those inked pages of my diary, as my soul walks on those black lines that support my words, I’m happy. No longer does my fear trouble me, and no longer do I long to live to be remembered.”

She falls silent, and so do I. I always thought I feared oblivion the most, but now that I think of it, it is being solved that frightens me. It’s not oblivion or being forgotten, but being known entirely, like a mystery being solved, that fears me the most.

I ask, “But, how do I deal with having lost myself to the universe? I’m a mystery never to be solved.”

“You don’t need to fear the universe. When you’ll die, you’ll know its secrets, and it will know yours. And, from what I know, the universe is good at keeping secrets, just like the stars it has kept to itself. You’ll make a good mysterious star. You’d still be a mystery never to be solved.”

I smile, “Still a mystery never to be solved.”

This is a short story I wrote. Let me know what you think about it.

A eulogy for a special someone

Ever experienced the salty sea breeze bracing towards you, like it does not have an end; it can go on forever? That’s what being with her was like; receiving constant surges of emotion, be it love or hatred.

Our relationship or I’d rather say bond, was like a coast: I-the beach and cliffs, and she-the oceanic waves.

I believed I was a mystery, and I never wanted to be solved. I know she always wanted to know more, gather as much of me as she could, but I didn’t let her, did I? I didn’t let her erode a lot of thoughts of mine, but I did give her most of me. Only did she deserve those lost parts of me.

Now, I wish I had let her erode all of me, for I can no longer be the person who I was with her. However, all I can do is let her deposit parts of herself, as she recedes back into the ocean that made her. 

She left me in the middle, with nowhere to go. I can neither reach up the surface and forget her nor can I go deeper. She’s the ocean that I poured my tears in, the ocean that I dived into, and the ocean that I drowned in. 

She knew me so well; more than anyone in my life. My vulnerability vanished as she did from this world, leaving me behind as the unsolved mystery I’ve always wanted to be. 

She ultimately gave me what I wanted, and I’m grateful for all that she’s done for me. Though, I’m sorry for not letting her have the whole of me. I didn’t give her what she deserved. I’m sorry…

I once told her that I’d love to be a person she wouldn’t like… I didn’t finish my words, so she insisted me to tell her the entire thing and explain what I meant when I said it. 

Honestly, it meant nothing in particular when I said it, but later on, I pondered and realised it did mean something. I said it for a reason. I didn’t want to be people’s expectations or predictions. I wanted to be unforeseeable and do unpredictable things, but she would almost always predict who I’d be, or what I’d do, so I  thought that the only chance I could be unpredictable, would be if I was someone she wouldn’t like.

I believe my life is a book. She’s the ellipsis in my story. Things have been left unspoken and incomplete because she was there to comprehend my silence; to understand without me having to explain anything. 

We both didn’t know how to smile, especially me. I’m sure she’s laughing at me while I say this. I’m lucky to have found an anti-social weirdo just like me and blessed to have her by my side for so long. May I cherish all the memories I shared with her…

This was actually a birthday gift to someone extremely special in my life. The most heartfelt gift I’ve ever given to anyone. The birthday girl says that it’s the best written piece of mine that she’s read yet. I’m glad you liked it, weirdo. I hope I never have to say it ,though. Just hang with me forever…

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