Angst..

Angst,

I was still close to it, even when you were two months old. I could still go back and hold onto things even when they hurt. They would call our connection strong,and I would believe them. I would belive them when they tell me how strong I was.

When you grew 8 months old. The heart began to beat at a pace which wasn’t the same, it started beating faster. Our connection seem to grow even stronger, I would still come back to you no matter how it would hurt. Again.

When you’re a year old, the heart was in race with itself. It started beating faster and faster, for it was waiting for those endless stairs to end. There was a fight between you and strength, which would continue for days and days with the aim of defeating the other.

You,are three now. Having lost the sight of what the other end looks like, I still yearn to live on the side which hurts but having lost all the strength – I yearn to takeoff just as a plane with a technical issue does.The stairs I’m climbing seems to have no end.
I envy people who stand on a point where they’ve attained contentment, their inner peace – The strength within.
Stories seem to pour harder than the cloudburst outside, we got plenty of time to kill it – But it isn’t dissolving.
It isn’t.

Today, as I flip through the pages of an old photo albums they tell me the image I reflect in the mirror is no one but Me.But why do I fail to recognise myself?

A bottle filled up with a message waiting to say it out – Loud enough,

for you to hear.

Until I gather the courage,
I request you to take a little longer to come back,

Yet Again..

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Break the Nib!

Let’s chew the fat and talk about a gender we seldom talk about,
A gender whose identity is always put to doubt –
This time it’s not about WOMEN but about MEN.’Perfection‘ was said to have different meanings, but
When it comes to stereotyping the basis are the same –
Both for Men and Women.

Let’s stereotype Men today :

A voice bold and loud,
A physique well sculpted,
Eyes full with rage, and
Never to shed a tear –
Because only weak men do that.
Dressed up like a gentleman,
Not just today but everyday.
Does everything that makes him Masculine, and
Adapt the changing definition of Mascularity, just as “Changing Fashion!”

Strong. Tall. Big. Handsome. Robust. Vigorous. Sturdy. Sinewy.

Let’s not frown upon Men wearing pink and Women playing football,
Now, let’s do away with the sarcastic ink that says ‘Men will be Men’.

Acceptance in White!

I wake up, look around and wonder what’s wrong,
Move around a little,
And collect some decor to pretty my house!

Then, I look at me and wonder what went wrong?
Every night I scrub a mask, layer it with apologies of Acceptance.
I look straight into the sparkling eyes of the frail girl – I see in the Mirror.

Come on,
Shine to me like that Meteor – I tell myself.
Let’s put up that White Dress-
Fits through my bust, Long enough to cover my thigh.
Turn a little right, a little left,
Stand straight,
Turn a little more – Until you accept the light your sparkle.

Do you see yourself shining like a meteor in the daylight without a mask or a highlighter?

Now that’s Acceptance!

(Published with Fashion Herald)

Women, Inches and Perfection!

At an age of 5,
She was taught to smile pretty,
Play it safe.

Later,
Words came to her like a bullet,
She had no choice other than to rot,
That’s what was being taught!

‘Perfection’ seemed to have different meanings,
For Women it were Inches,
For Men it were the qualities they possessed.

The Scars, the Skin,
The Inches, the Derm,

Even rains couldn’t wash the Black alluvial soil off the Skin,
Leaving her unfit for the world,
Left behind like those unfortunate droplets against the windowpanes, which cannot be a part of something B I G.
Just to deeper the scars were the words of the society.

Each morning, as a I crawl out of my bed,
I wash Yesterday out of my Hair –

“I’m an art,
With my own perfections and imperfections.”

Constantly,Consistently,Continually.

The eyes hurt from the tears they’d shed this morning, last night, hiding away.

I was happy until I saw you crawling up yet again.

Those vibrant coloured pills helps me in forgetting everything, but Oh! How you end up crawling

E A C H and E V E R Y T I M E.

I try to set myself free from your world that tries to grab my soul and push me in a pit that’s Dark, so dark that I can’t even see myself.

My heart aches, I start to cry.

You have no idea, how my soul sinked.

I cried, cried and cried..

But you seemed to take no notice of – You pushed me even deeper.

I wonder what happened to my happy soul. What happened to that perfect life where,

I laughed, laughed and laughed..

There was a time when laughter was inseparable from me but now since you crawl up, Every time..

I learnt that how we take everything for granted.

I see the lady next door, waiting for her husband to return from the border.

Two days later I find people standing in Army uniform, with a wooden box covered with the National Flag : Knocking her door,

What next, Is known.

She has not seen her husband for 8 months.

244 Days.

I can write EIGHT in innumerable ways-

8.

VIII.

Eight.

EIGHT.

E

I

G

H

T.

Likewise, the days and hours.

I see a father narrating small little things happening around, to his child who has lost his Vision.

I learnt that dark rooms are the best to take away our pain, and Cry.

I learnt to cherish my own company, alone yet HAPPY.

I learnt how a 15 minutes shower when extended to two-hour, leads to all good;

I learnt how good it is a place to hide all your sorrows and wash them off with water running down your body.

I learnt how running away leads to no good.

I learnt about privileges.

I learnt how necessary is it to let yourself free from the company of your Best Friend – Loneliness.

Let your eyes cry,

Let your soul try,

Let your heart die,

Let’s G R O W

Constantly,

Consistently,

Continually.

A Step Ahead..

Step by Step one at a time,

Slowly, Carefully;

And there you go,

                        1..

                              2..

                                 3..

                                    4..

                                        5…
Oh! The endless pair of feet,

That have plod these stairs,

One by One.

S  l  o  w  l  y. . .

Or,

Ran over them,
Fall

ing,

Fa

ll

ing,

Fallen.
And, those who

                                D

                             E

                        B

                   M

                I

           L

      C
from the hole they fell into,
Look,

How these 10 stairs,

Beautifully decorated with flowers –

Some climbed them up from the hole,

They did not dig –

Oh! Not everyone knows the way to Heaven.
And then those,

Who witnessed Peace and Serenity in Heaven.
Let’s decorate the

                                         S

                                     T

                                A

                            I

                      R

                 C

            A

       S

  E

to our way with our deeds!!

 

Picture Courtesy – Madhura Banerjee

(Go fetch her book “A Tenant of the World” on Amazon and Flipkart.)

Rhapsody

With the changing time, I prefer to stick to those roots which had driven themselves off from our lives –
L   O   N   G  AGO.

I still find that the perfect way to start your day is to listen to those precious voices hidden inside Us,
Which thereby remains unheard admist our daily basis crisis.

Pondering over some deep thoughts,
I took a road that was less travelled..
No start, yet no sojourn,

It may sound deep as it is –
The intrinsic vibes all around,
This rhapsodic episode souses me.
I’ve been drifted.
I’ve been shaken.
I’ve been shattered.
I’ve changed.

It’s all so intangible and baffling,
Yet, I move out to grab those rhapsodic sounds in the forest –
Oh! And the soundlessness of nature solaced Me.