When you filled the first of our days with your ambitions, I believed it’s going to be a fun trip. That we will be together for a long time, With our bond strengthened at every stroke of your pen’s tip.
At times I was scared of how much I know of you; The crushes you had, the people you loathed the circumstances you feared. I felt special that only I knew what made you cry, Before the words were boldened and then smudged by your tears.
It was painful when you tore pieces off me, Scribbling the most beautiful anger art. The “dictators of your life” could never find the rebel’s hideout, I made sure to absorb all the pain in your heart.
It was decided the moment you entrusted me with your beloved’s flower, That if the world ever puts you on trial I will defend and be your attorney. I swear I called your name when the “little one” invaded our privacy, As I meant it when I declared myself a confidant in this journey.
I felt the burden of your heavy heart when you started filling me with your emptiness, I still carry the guilt of knowing the exact moment you gave up on life and liveliness.
The flower has changed its colour I won’t embrace you with rented fragrance like before, The pen is as lonely as me in the company of my pages My dear why don’t you pick us up why don’t you write anymore?
His love was like a treat Had me begging for more at each step, I thought I was climbing up a ladder It was a clifftop of unfathomable depth.
Do not leave me here in this maze For I am unaware of these ways.
Yes, I committed the sin of opening up, But my alibi is your assurance and my trust.
You took me up and up till the ground disappeared into clouds, Wandering in the sky I felt like a kite. Between a bird and a kite one is dependent on thread, And oh dear how did you forget that I am afraid of heights?
My head hangs low admitting it’s a point of no return for me, We either move together or, if you set me free, You might not have any regret, not even it’s whiff, But I will have no other choice but to jump off the cliff.
“A mother, a daughter, a sister” Today a copy paste for all your tweets. What about the one born on streets? With fragile relations and nothing to eat.
The pilot the doctor the sweeper the engineer, The ‘undignified’ prostitute and the unpaid housewife. The model on the ramp is as much a women As the uniform bearer who prefers nation over life.
A pair of breasts, a uterus, a vagina Now..before you say haww and bow down your heads, Let me also talk about period blood Because I know, no will care after Women’s Day ends.
Black, white and all the shades of brown, The one who was humiliated for her weight. Reminded of being a “woman” since birth As if it is a thing to forget.
The beautiful, caring and loving one A “sacrificial goat”, that toes your line. Yes we are affectionate by nature, but who is an ideal woman? The crowd doesn’t decide, the crowd doesn’t define.
The one who bears a child, the one who cannot, The one who was born a woman the one who feels like a woman, The lesbian the straight the bisexual the queer We don’t settle for the moon, we chase the boundless sky my dear. And as vast as the sky, that, is womanhood my dear. That, is womanhood my dear.
Uff! It’s so depressing all around, they want me to bring in some “positive news” but is it really the lack of positivity and not compassion and empathy?
They want me to write about the raining sixes at boundaries, when people are dropping dead like flies
They want me to capture the holy dip at Ganga, when hundreds are gasping for breath at streets
They want me to talk about the wins and losses of the purported “festival of democracy” when crematoriums are announcing their own results
They want me to help them clean their timeline, when I know the next SOS call could be one of mine
They can keep their eyes shut through the day, but the crimson sky at midnight is enough to keep me awake
Perhaps late “human beings” wrapped in plastic bags are not aesthetic enough… But they were alive once unlike your moral conscience
Look around carefully, the times we are in even the shares on a call for help are signs of positivity whitewashing despair, censoring cries are mere distractions.
It’s her third letter in a week The cries are getting louder, I’m scared to have a peek. I can see the letters bold behind drops of tears, They are mine they are hers, they stink of fear. Every now and then she reaches out her hand, Wanting to be pulled out before meeting the dead-end. The numbness has started to fill in her body Is it a graveyard? Is she a dead body?
I’m trying to remember when did it started Did I ignored, joked around or sincerely responded? But I’m fine, neither dead nor dying, About to grab her hand only to find a thousand chains tying. How do I break it how does it shatter Who is dragging me down, is it me, is it her? I realised, even her stillness is better than my vehemence Breathes make you drown, corpses just float seamless.
But it’s not the final call yet I am here till the sun sets. Whatever it takes to break the chains, My fatigue should not put her efforts in vain. Till the letters stop bringing in cries I’m using my breath to keep her alive.
It was past 6 in the evening. I was returning home from college, riding pillion with my sister. Although my college gets over at 4pm already, I had to stay at my sister’s office for nearly 2 hours because apparently she suddenly got reminded of some important work that she had to finish before we could head home. After spending almost two hours with a poor WiFi I wasn’t certainly in a good mood but now that we were finally heading back home, I felt more relaxed. But, as we were moving, suddenly we had to stop and everyone around us had to stop too. The traffic light had just turned red.
Anytime after 5pm is basically people just rushing back to their homes after a day that can for one reason or another be deemed as stressful. I could see the irritated expression on everyone’s faces and feel the frustration in the air as the clock on the traffic light started counting backwards from 180 seconds. Amidst the same stressed, drained out of energy expression on almost everyone’s faces my eyes certainly stuck at one particular scene.
Besides us two bikes were standing, one in front of the other, and beside those bikes was a car. However what caught my attention was not the car but the people inside the car. There were two boys on the front seat and a girl and a boy on the backseat. They looked like college students almost the same age as me. The boys were all wearing suits. The girl was wearing a black dress. Black hair, a little longer than shoulder length. Although I could not see her face clearly, I just felt she might be pretty. However what stood out to me were her earrings. They did not match with her dress at all. To be precise she was wearing jhumka, one that someone would wear with a saree or salwar kurta. Their attires brought me to the conclusion that they were either returning from their freshers or farewell party. I was not able to see the boy’s face who was sitting with the girl. I could see the girl’s hair. They were facing eachother. Probably kissing.
Suddenly the girl backed off. She got a call. At the same time there was a knock on their car’s window. It was a beggar, with an empty bowl, trying to make a living out of the red traffic light. The girl rolled down the window, with her phone pressed to her ear with one hand, she answered the call, “hmm papa“. While trying to get some money out of her purse she answered again, “abhi college pe hi hai friends se mil le thoda tab nikalte hai” (still at the college, let me meet my friends then we’ll leave)
With a little bit confused face, as if trying to figure out what the other person was about to say, she said again, “abhi to Shrishti ke yaha jana hai. Usko kuch important kaam hai phir 8 baje tak pakka ghar. Wo apni car se chhod degi.” (Have to go to Shrishti’s place. She got some important work. Then I will be home by 8pm, promise. She will drop me home in her car)
“Ok. Bye. Love you.”
She cut the call. Gave a coin to the beggar. The boys who were sitting quietly till now, finally started speaking again. The one on the driver’s seat said something that made all of them laugh. The girl rolled up the window again with a little smile on her face.
She was most probably lying to her dad. Because the four lane intersection was definitely not her college. For a second I was taken back to my freshers party. Almost all of my classmates went to a club after the official college party was over, to have fun on their own. I didn’t. More like I couldn’t. I wanted to but for ‘some’ reasons which can qualify as ‘precautions to stay safe’, I couldn’t.
The uncle, sitting on his bike right beside us side eyed them. He was probably frowning, probably thinking,”what has happened to this generation?”
Suddenly the car started moving. Engines were on again. All the vehicles started moving. Countdown was over, the traffic light was green. The car was going straight while we had to turn right. As far as I could, my eyes followed the car, or to be honest, the girl. The last thing I saw was that, she was laughing. I don’t know the reason, but she had the most genuine laugh on her face. My heart felt happy.
Wherever she went after that, I just hope she returned home by 8pm, with the same genuine laugh on her face.
Hours, days and weeks went what went along was content. I heard frorm someone you decided my fate, but did you notice, the concerned was out of debate. I tried to peep to seek some light, ended up in a tunnel with death inside. Elation, celebration to buy a piece of me, the stillness you saw, the breathing you won’ t see. Snow White is lying cuffed and cut with swollen eyes and tears of blood. Years have passed living in remorse But this year ‘s gift is even worse. Now blinded and gagged Silence is roaming around, Oh! It’s the same Heaven you were boasting about. The quest for being one, far away lies, And so are ‘You’ and ‘I’.
Random Thoughts 