My place had a season
Leaves would fall
Everything looked devastatingly cold
Devoid of any ornamentation
As if mourning
Some loss – unknown
Departure of beloved
Gardens, streets turned red
A sigh onto your every step
The hearts you broke along the path
Now, I stay elsewhere
The leaves don’t fall anymore
No signs of pain
No signs of life reviving itself
They talked freedom
how they had had enough
sought an end
They start out, seeking
fighting their way through
somewhere religion creeps in
A line drawn on religion
Fear in eyes
Years going in vain
Along, people in procession
“Asi Gasi Pakistan,
Batav Ros Ti Batnev Saan!”
They had been the guiding lights
on the paths dark and dreaded
They had been those helping hands
pulling us out of dispair pits.
Like stars shining bright at night
giving hopes of a coming dawn
Instilling hopes of a better tomorrow
the feeling, “Together we belong”
When we cried being homesick
scolding, supporting, through thick and thin
like an elder sibling does
Their memories fill up the place
leaving a mark everywhere
They opened up the doors for us
so we could transit to the better
clearing the bottlenecks and boulders
creating paths for predecessors
Bidding adieu, leaving behind
empty places and a trial to follow!
She visualised her exodus
she was moving farther away
leaving a childhood behind,
no more the legacy of calling home.
No longer waking to mom’s call
neither be pampered by dad often
running to win against bro
and stealing candy when sis was gone…
Who would she have fun with now?
She is expected mature
work and act emotionless
poised; balanced; letting nothing show…
But where to keep the child within?
should she lock her up somewhere
never letting her peek out
or should she put her straight to death….
She fought tears while leaving
who would love and caress her
can it be even remotely same
as to what she lived before…
He had promised it would be good
but would his family be as lovely
would they really cherish her being
and be a loving family?
Her fears told her otherwise
instead of mom would be a critic;
her moments restricted at home and out
working; cleaning; however tired
She would have no say in affairs
even if something concerned her
would she ever be consulted and asked?
Would she ever … fit in?
Would her mother not tease and taunt
question her skills and expertise
would she be insulted for mistakes
Oh! The pain of even thinking …
What if someday she has a strife
by whose side would he stand
would he look for the truth behind
or blindly agree to his family’s version?
Would he leave her alone, such
making her feel out of place
making her rethink the decision,
was marriage even worth?
She left, clutching her heart in hand
maybe she needed a stone instead
wearing a fake mask of strength on face …
and locking the bubbly child inside…!