Best 16 quotes of Ranjani Ramachandran on MyQuotes

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

Everyday, in the afternoon, When the sun and the clouds are in equipoise, I look up, with shrunken eyes and shadowed forehead, To see whether you hide in them, If those shapes could make some sense, And I find you walking your dog, laughing aloud, Driving your car and Dancing in the bar, Working very hard and playing retard, Hurting my eyes, head and heart; I look upon the ground, Tossing a stone as cold as your soul, Realisation is a fantasy, Omnipresence is not your genre, but Obsession is mine.

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.

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.

His ego and complex always overpowered his emotions.

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!

I don't have a choice sahib. Artho hi kanya parakeeya eva father used to say" "What does it mean?" "It means a girl is another man's property and she is held in trust by her parents.

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.

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.

Seasons passed by. I always loved to watch the trees in our garden. With the first rain, the leaves would drench themselves. Slowly they would grow tired of the rain and droop. So would I, grow tired of waiting for him to look at me, talk to me. Slowly the leaves would dry up, and fall to the ground. It resembled a naked and shameless woman, trying to woo her husband. And the season would change, and the leaves would shoot slowly trying to gain the lost vigor. It would start blooming and look in its best form. The tree would be so overwhelmed by its own beauty that it would call upon the butterfly and birds. It would make everyone happy. But has anyone wondered how it feels? It feels like me.

Seated across is a silent affair looking into my eyes; blurring the loud scenery. An incapable dream, an unimagined union-I whisper. Then you close your eyes and your soul yells my name. I cradle your peace back-with a sigh and kiss your thought away. Because we are an incomplete pair of Romeo and Juliet left alive by the Montagues and the Capulets; killed by the distance of the sun and the moon.

Strolling around. Eyes met and I forgot. He didn't. Something deeper. Something stronger. Hands touched and I forgot. He didn't. He loved me. Slowly and gradually, he gave me all that he felt. But he didn't realise giving could mean giving it away. Gave all of it until it faded. They say energy in the universe remains constant. Now I love him. He doesn't.

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.

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

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

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.