Note to self

Write freely? Let the words fall in place? Write with no strings attached? No.
Try writing with all your emotions attached to that one word which made you write in the first place. Read shitty poems on internet, write shitty poems on internet and re read your work. Because, who cares. Be your biggest fan. Take the compliments, take them all. It took you so much to reach here, stand your ground and take all the praise. Write what you want when you want and where you want. Fall in love and don’t try to hold it in anymore. Let yourself fall and let yourself love. Don’t be afraid to have your heart broken. It’s about time, just live.

~ 🧜‍♀️

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Home

Home.
Comfort to some
trigger warning to others.
I know you hate my generation
The self labbed
Woke people
Who are drunk on one side of a story.
I am a generation
The one who is totally
Failing at being what
We’re to be.
You take pride in
Densely packed
nervous buildings
glued together with curiosity,
not hope.
And call this a living.
You and I have
different understandings of home.
I have seen too much of waves
to call shore
As my home.

Connections

“By convention hot, by convention cold, by convention colour, but in reality atoms and void”
  –  DEMOCRITUS

Conversations are tricky. It takes courage and tremendous conviction to initiate something without knowing how a person would respond. Our culture teaches us to be brave, to get up and join a group of people and be a part of the conversation; to be the tiny atom that makes this ever evolving universe. In other words, they say you’re only alive when you’re connected.

I hold on to the atoms within me and hope to see the world within my hands. Contrary to popular belief, world cannot be experienced in a particular way. I think it takes more than few words and couple of meetings to know someone. For some, it takes a lifetime. For some, lifetime is just one day. Sometimes, a day feels like a lifetime.

How do we connect? Will sharing what I’m feeling make anyone reading this my friend? Are connections that easy to build? How are people, people like you and me, are to survive this? How do we connect when we cannot even talk or lack the strength altogether?

Sketch credit: Bharath

https://ridiculousbharath.wordpress.com/

Shadows

How do you manage to keep going
without the urge to throw yourself
away?
How does it feel like hearing everything
but your own heart?
Does it really get better with time?
Do layers of skin mange to cover it all?

Tell me how you escaped the pit
of rusty flowers decorating
humnae need of art,
Is there a way to escape your shadow?
Have you made peace with it all?

Deep down, in your heart
does it shine bright like the day?
Or is it pretty like the sky?
If you smiled bright
and visited be places
Would it matter?

Tell me,
Does it get better?
Tell me,
Is there any way out?

Seasons?

It’s almost dawn and like any other day;
I am looking for something to hold on to.
A popular and supposingly brilliant quote “you find happiness when you look for it” is here again but I feel like I’m done.
How can I look for happiness when all I feel and see is my failing attempts to understand it? How do I define something I have never experienced?
The weather is as confused as I am. Sun is yet to set but it’s too cold for April. Trees are leaf-less yet flowers are ready to bloom. They said spring is early this time,
but what is spring?
How do we know what rain is, when it’s raining? How is downpour so precise?
Where do all these seasons come from? Are wants seasons?

The Fictional Truth

We are in the middle of a pandemic and also the global and national predicament, not to mention, most of us are confused with a lot of questions and quite predictably turn to news. Alas!
I feel like we have no where left to turn to. Like like we are stuck in a loop.

Joseph Goebbels, a German Nazi Politician said, “A lie told once remains a lie, but a lie told a thousand times becomes the truth”. Almost everything in our present post-truth, modern world, is based on this single statement. This is the era of fake news. Our media shapes perceptions; all the allegations, investigations, trials, tribulations and decisions are made here. If there’s anything that I learnt from all of this is, if media comes to my home, they’ll find me guilty for the crimes I had no idea of.

From religion to advertisements, I feel, we are running on fragile balance between truth and fiction. It’s always easy to weave fiction; because of our ability and the need to be heard and seen in social groups, people tend to believe in the crowd Or link it to centuries old faith. Works like magic!

Truth is always hard to handle and impossible to process. Can we, you and I, handle the truth about the food we eat, clothes we wear, about how we twisted and turned faith of centuries into nothingness, of how we are using God as a psychological weapon? how we ruined the earth we call home? and how we all are to blame for all the bad in the world?

There is good too, I don’t deny it. But I don’t run away from bad. I have learned to acknowledge the problem. Acknowledging a problem is the only way to solve it.

Truth costs relations. And in present world, who wants to lose faith of someone important or powerful? A lie is thus fed a million times, until it becomes the ultimate truth. We believe in what we hear repeatedly.

~ 🧜

The art of holding on

Holding on doesn’t always have to be about people or the stained memories, it’s more complex than what we know. 
I often leave my poems and pause midway to reminisce the fleeting moments, to find you there once again, which apparently has become my favourite thing to do.
I always try to find my face there, try to see the dipping-toes-in-the-moment-me.
I am constantly reminded of what I was because of what I am and I  fail at being myself trying to hold on to what I was.
I write a poem every other day but there is no one to read them;
It  hardly makes sense to hold on to past self, I know but you gotta hold on to something right?
why can’t that something be you?

~🧜

Let them be

This constant pressure someone feeling that they are entitled to talk to you daily can be draining ( and can break the bonds too). When going through things, the most creative people can also run out of words and the answer to every question can be nothing more than “okay”.

We keep checking on people , which is a good thing, indeed. But too much care can be toxic too. If everybody starts with “How are you today?” then what else can someone say other than ” I’m fine”.

On some days the best thing we can do for others is to just listen or just be there in silence or just give them the space. Because sometimes, the best thing we can do for others is not to do anything.

~ Let them be.

Tell me?

Lately, I have been feeling so pissed at world and my head seems full of rants, probably not going to talk about that to someone. So I guess I’m starting to write them down here.

___________________________________________

I have been called pretty, beautiful and all the things someone want to hear, but I don’t want to hear that. I wanted to hear something more that that, something that have value to me ( values and ideas vary) .Recently, I met one of my aunts, she looked me and said you’re going to be a great mother…
Okay. I get it. Women are the arc reactors where we put the same ingredients and wait for the same products, the same expected results from generations.
She didn’t ask me about my major or my favourite book, what if I don’t want to be an arc reactor? What if I want to be more that what I already am?
Why people always talk about boobs and womb, why nobody talk about strength and brains? Why they always talk about finding the right guy and have the fucking happily forever and after? Are we living in Disney’s dimension?

Why no one is teaching their kids to be more than what they can be?

Phoenix

I belong to this world or maybe I am the world or just a void in space, whatever it is, some days I am so full of life, feels like I could give birth to million galaxies and swallow down the burning meteoroids or maybe save everyone from existential crisis. When I see someone suffering, especially something I have been through and managed to survive, there is this invincible desire to move their world upside down and make them see, how incredibly tiny and pointless their pain/ sufferings are. Then, at the exact same moment I want to stay distant, speak only when asked and help only as much as needed to let others soak up the hell fire and be their own Phoenix.

Everyday, I come across someone who starts or end the conversation with “you/ your words saved me” and I just end up smiling, doing nothing, trying to be distant. Like how!
I can barely drag myself out to at least to breathe. I leave conversations in cliffhanger, don’t reply for weeks, worse, delete my accounts. When I am back from the shell, how everyone is still here? Why everyone is still here?

There is this person living inside me, even after all the hell I put through myself, she never left, she actually refuses to leave. And wants to save everyone, her believes in love are so strong that all my demons cry for her to leave. But she keep trying to pull off these “heroic” scenes. Once I told her, if you must,then save me from myself.To which she replied, “saving is not something you need”.
OKAY. What do I need then?

You can call me narcissist, but my world does revolves around me. I am the greatest weapon of destruction and source of healing I have ever known, and these days..

I am not sure what I am.