Posted on by Anamika · 2 Comments

Point of no return

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.

Posted on by Anamika

Womanhood

Pic credit: VectorStock

“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.

Posted on by Anamika

Unsaid

Pic credit : Google

The crumpled sheet of paper beneath my bed, the message in my drafts the words unsaid.

All of them are so special, the uncertainty they hold, plus endless speculation.

I can’t help but think of your reaction, would you have rejected or reciprocated my affection?

The dots following a sentence are not useless afterall…. words are waiting at the tip of my pen, I’m not letting them fall.

Posted on by Anamika

The fear of being alone

When the sunrays say it’s too late and leave me ony own
Hands grow cold on a summer night
For of all the fears I fear being left alone.

What is a garden if it is made up of rocks
It’s just a dead crowd
With no one to listen, no one to talk.

I asked my vulnerabilities, are they leaving too?
They loathe selfishness, they won’t leave me alone
They are here till the end, to walk me home.

Posted on by Anamika

Whitewashing others despair is not spreading ‘positivity’

Pic credit: Adnan Abidi/Reuters

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.

Posted on by Anamika · 1 Comment

A letter for help

Pic source: Google

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.

Posted on by Anamika

The Cage Between You & I

Pic cr: Pinterest

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’.