Reflection

Thoughts manifest into reality
the feeling you give out
comes back to thee

Numb, lost, immature
unable to comprehend
what world, emotions
This emptiness!

I sought answers; road to my destination
the burden of questions heaving onto me
attempts to shake off everything
friends with solitude; company!

What would reflect back, I wonder!
Emptiness? Numbness? The answers I seek?
A detailed map to my destiny?
Some moonbeams as company?

The dark veil of moonless nights
Untreatable sleeplessness
Shroud for all the misery

 

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For How Long

I had someday, against nature
taken that one step; dreaded
I knew all that could go wrong
impacts, outcome

Nevertheless, I found the courage
for once to risk it all
the reward too lucrative
for once, vulnerability ceased

A surge of courage, strength
a step towards the dreaded journey
Fear, excitement, adrenaline
How does it sound?

Ever witnessed flight of a bird
a broken wing, nearing death?
It breaks into flight, not merely for its sake,
to escape… Alas!

Why didn’t it know its fate?
the flight of a broken wing
How far could courage take
or service of a fake smile?

I repeatedly ask myself
“For how long?”

Chained to Chores

Busy, bustling, daily chores
A life full of demanding more’s
Ah! The clock goes too fast
Just can’t do enough!

With hands full, I hear a call
A familiar, cherished voice
somehow it felt different
So wrong, painful

I look back, the source of the voice
Dad crumbling, drenched in sweat
something seems utterly wrong
the panic on his face

I run, trying to get a hold of him
save the fall, the anguish
But midway something hinders my run…
A chain round hand.

I try jostling it away
breaking free and going over
somehow seems too strong
Ah! What do I do…

Somewhere I comply, negotiate
I get timeouts and return back…
like a dutiful slave!

 

 

Intent

Intent.
That will to do something. Achieve. Be.
That something you aren’t ready to negotiate upon.

Intent. 
That lack of will they said I had. That lack of pure passion that fuels success. That I didn’t want anything done.

Intent.
Days when I actually lacked everything else. Just breathing because it doesn’t need a voluntary will. No efforts.

Intent.
Sometimes the will to give up too. That done for feeling. That I didn’t belong and it all was a farce.

Intent.
The thing they said, maybe just to disqualify me.

I am Near

I had cried hard someday,
“Where are you,
Call me back!”
The promise of “I am Near”

There was no voice reciprocating
no condolence, no light
I knew no better
The promise of “I am Near”

Shattered, in pieces
I yearned for light
I called, “When?”
The promise of “I am Near”

All the forms of care I knew
communication, touch
the yearning of His caress
The promise of “I am Near”

I had thought of fatherly strokes,
His hands on my head
Ah! my innocence, expectations
The promise of “I am Near”

And days later, I looked beyond
tears that had blurred vision
Ways He had reached out
The promise of “I am Near”

That sudden song I never heard before
That poem titled “Sawaal”
That recurrent dream, giving solace
The promise of “I am Near”

A sudden thought of hope,
A distant ray of light
The hand that said, “I am”
The promise of “I am Near”

No, the ways weren’t what I thought
He didn’t stand in front, embracing
physically He was never there
The promise of “I am Near”

And yet, all I could see was Him
in every breath, His presence
Managing my affairs through someone
The promise of “I am Near”

 

 

 

Tormentor

I sit with him, Ah! the pleasure
His eyes, the way he smiles
chiseled biceps!

He asks, I speak
The trauma at my heart
What is it that keeps poking me

I speak of red,
The spilled colour
The bundle of joy dead on a street

I speak of a bed
Devoid of rest
Haunted by nightmares

I speak of rooms;
Painful, brutal sounds
Electrocution

I speak, unaware
the words incoherent
the ache, constant….

My tormentor, moved to tears
I, unphased, numb
unaffected

Difference

Remember the last time you said mother? Parent? Care? Oh! So much of concern. How you should be aware of their feelings, and how our lives should revolve around them? Remeber saying they should be the centre of our world? The very thing that we should be constantly aware of? Careful of? Mindful of?

Remember saying that our lives should be dedicated to their care, paying them back for what they did for us as children? Remaining indebted and trying to make things even. More out of the intent to repay their favours rather than out of gratitude…

Why could they not understand that gratitude is not always shown by doing as the other asks. Gratitude is not giving someone control over your life. Gratitude is doing something for that other person out of your own personal will. The way you want to.

But when it comes to giving up control and freedom; when they ask to specifically take instructions and do whatever they say, this is not paying back or showing gratitude. This is enslavement. Under the worst pretext available.

There is a great difference between gratitude and slavery.

Hypocrisy

Someone, somewhere, someday said,
“Treat people the way
you want to be treated as”

I wanted to be cared for,
affection, relation
Love!

I reciprocated the same
Giving away care and love
giving smiles away

Unlike the expectations
I got alligations
fingers pointing at me.

Called attention-seeking
and fake;
Someone to be condemned
To be steered away from

Somehow I let an allegation through
like a bullet shattered glass
blood, pain, tears; a mess

Now, I seek a mask
I seek Me!

 

Unspeakable

I sit on a glass table
some coffee, music

Plethora of thoughts,
a hurricane

I sit, with a pen, open
ready to pen down

a story, a poem, or…
some kind of solace

All I could see, in front –
a blank sheet stained with tears!

Replaced?

Everyone has phases in life. Childhood, school, tuitions, college … Every phase has different people associated with it. Different bonds, different relations. Expectations. Aspirations.

And somehow sharing a part of life turns insignificant when a new phase is introduced. Somehow everything associated with a phase is let go. Maybe to make a place for new things. Maybe it is an escape way… who knows!

The only remnant we let ourselves have is a piece of paper signifying the time we spent, toiling.

Why was it so difficult to give people some space in life? To give time to people we once so cherished? Who meant the world to us at some point of time. Are our schedules actually so busy? Do we care so less?

From another perspective, we hold images of people we have met. Some memories. Some traits. And over time we tend to idealise them. Maybe we are afraid we won’t find them the same once we reconnect. Maybe they refuse to recognise… Maybe the place we had in their lives has been replaced. Maybe we fear the change in them.

Maybe…