The Shooting Star

"You're my shooting star." I declared one night, when we were busy making shapes out of constellations in the sky.

"As romantic as that sounds, I think I would have preferred to be your wish come true. Don't you think?" He replied with a glint of amusement in his eyes. I turned towards him and took a moment to kiss his nose before I explained the meaning.

"You know the first time I saw a shooting star was when I went trekking with my friends. The only reason I went up that hill was my hope that I'll be able to watch the clear night sky and probably catch a shooting star. I'd seen it in films you know, and heard people describe it, I was dying to see one and wish upon it. I know it sounds crazy but you obviously know how much I love star gazing. It's real, true love you know. And I was excited about the night sky just like people are about having love in their life. We already know it's going to be amazing. It's already so beautiful in our heads that we even fear of it not living up to our expectations. You're already laughing. You're terrible."

 He kept staring at my face and then caressed my cheek before replying "I'm not laughing. I just love it when you talk so excitedly. I don't think it's crazy at all. I want to know all about it. Go on."

I was obviously so excited that I didn't care even if he thought I was crazy. "So that night I sat outside mesmerized by the sky. It was the first time I was seeing those many stars. I kept blinking my eyes to make myself believe that it was real. I was speechless. I was talking to my friends, still staring up at the sky because I just couldn't take my eyes away, not caring what they were saying and then suddenly, there it was- the most beautiful miracle I'd ever seen. It was just this moment you know, and I knew what I was seeing. It wasn't an illusion. It was the realest thing I'd laid my eyes on. And even then, I knew that I should make a wish. All the while staring at it, for that eternal moment I knew that I should wish but it was just so beautiful that I couldn't care less. It was complete. It didn't need any wishing. I was satisfied. And after that moment passed and I came back to my senses, I knew that I'd never seen anything so beautiful in my life. I understood why people talked about catching falling stars in songs and sonnets. And I also knew that if I ever fall in love, it had to be like that. People want love to heal them and be with them and change them or whatever, just like I was waiting for that star to wish upon it. But that's not their purposes. Neither of the beautiful night sky, nor of love. I knew that if I ever love someone, it should be so magical that I'm unable to look away, just like I couldn't look away from that falling star. And that I'd forget all about it healing me or changing me or even staying with me, I knew that if it were as real as that moment I had just experienced, I'll be too busy marveling in its magic to think about anything else. I know I sound like a romantic teenager but I don't care. I didn't care. And in all these years, all the falling stars that I've watched have only made me more clear. I've never wished upon any. I just smile in that moment trying to capture it in my soul. And with you, as cheesy as it sounds, I know that you're my shooting star. I've tried a hundred times to figure out what we have, to use logic and understand why we're the way we're with each other. But you make me forget all about it. I forget reason and purpose. I don't care if this, what we have, is there for a reason or not, if its here momentarily or eternally, and I couldn't care less. It's so beautiful that I don't want to spoil it finding purpose in it. You, this what we have, is my shooting star. and I'm just going to treasure it."

He kept looking at me for a long time obviously thinking ways to run away from this crazy-head bitch, his hands making slow circles around my navel and then without explaining, he just brought his face closer to mine, leaning in for a kiss, the gentlest kiss of my life.
He shifted both of us so now he was above me and whispered "I didn't want to scare you away by saying those three words but I can't not anymore. I love you so damn much it hurts. And you and me, baby are watching a million more shooting stars together."

Healing

It doesn’t happen at once. Never.

It happens as slowly as when you breathe deeply to remind yourself you’re alive and that’s the only thing you focus on. The breaths are heavy, each carrying the weight of all that has been suffocating you

It happens as quietly as you open your eyes when you wake up from a nap you were not supposed to take. You can’t decide whether to feel as good as you actually do, or to let yourself be guilty for being selfish

It happens stealthily, un-disturbingly while you’re lying there waiting for it, unable to realize your own hold on yourself. You exhale a loud breath and get distracted, stop waiting for it, forgetting that you were waiting for anything at all

It happens, but not as you expect it to. Not easily. Not when you plead yourself not to call his number and end up dialling it nineteen times and erasing it each time. Not when you expect a friend to call you at 3 am and ask whether you’ve been able to sleep at all. Not when you wake up at 6 but lie in bed till 10 anyway.

It doesn’t happen in the foreground ever. It doesn’t happen when you keep a watchful eye on yourself. It happens when you close them, and don’t realize that you’re not crying.

It happens when days later, you realize you fell asleep last night, without anyone checking up on you and without feeling disappointed that no one did. It happens when you realize you wanted to dial his number last night but got distracted before you could get to your phone.

It happens when you’re okay with going out alone and don’t feel abandoned

It happens when you enjoy a meal without feeling guilty

It happens when you forgive them for not being who you want them to be

It happens when you forgive them for not loving you enough

Because now

Days and weeks and months later

You’ve realized that you’ve forgiven yourself

For not loving yourself enough

Healing, doesn’t happen when you stop

Hurting yourself

It happens when you start

Loving yourself// 

Why I Don't Write

Why I don’t write:

Poems are not poems anymore. They’re broken lines one after the other and brokenness scares me. It takes me a long time to sew my lines one into the other and I don’t think I can handle breaking them again

Everyone writes. The same things. They write so much better than I do. They know what I want to talk about. My words come from the pit of my stomach. I can’t have anything new to say

The world is weird. My stories comfort me because they’re mundane and comfortable and snuggly. No one wants to read mundane today. I don’t have cold to offer and I don’t know if anyone will accept my comforter

I don’t want to see you reading what I wrote because you frown when you focus on words and I bite my lip without even realizing thinking that my feelings don’t make sense to you. You smile when you discover that I actually don’t write, don’t imagine, don’t make up things, I just watch around all day and twist the words so no one would know that I’m writing about them

I don’t write because what if someone actually reads it and then looks at me with those knowing eyes and in that moment I realize I have nothing more to offer, they know who I am

Jake

I have a pet snake
I’ve named him Jake
People call him my imagination, my wild creation
But I can’t create a snake you see
It always existed, just not with me
I don’t know the exact date he crawled into my room
But I think he was there much before I noticed him
So for the past one year
Jake has been my friend, my companion, my peer
I was scared of him initially
I thought he was here to kill me
But a few days later I realised his real name was depression indeed
I still call him Jake, makes me feel less scared
Now Jake is a great companion,
But there are a few things I need to take care of
He hates people
He hides under the bed if someone comes in my room
And I can cry and plead and show them scars of his activities
But he doesn’t come out and they don’t believe me
I try to tell people that Jake doesn’t want me hanging out with them
But as soon as I begin a conversation, he peeps up at me and crawls on my arm
He goes through my elbow and sits around like a bracelet
And behind my back, he ties both my wrists
So I keep wiggling and juggling and screaming at night
But Jake doesn’t let go of me, he has held me tight
When his anger started leaving scars
On my neck and my arms
He tried the flirtatious way
He sways when he walks
And he’s Satan when he talks
He licked me once all night
And made me feel snug under the soft velvet of his skin
That night onward he loves me each night
And tells me to beware of strangers on phone
On face
In life
To beware of friends
Of family
Of people
He made me realize that I have no one else but him
He wraps himself around my ankle
Every time someone invites me to a party
 He begs me not to leave the bed
To come back and make love to him
To lie in bed and have a day off
Even if I do take him out
He keeps pricking my ankle
The back of neck
My belly
Until I don’t get home
And then he bites me
Constantly
At home
When no one is looking
So no one knows.
But other than all these things, Jake is a darling
He’s long, dark and handsome
With blue eyes and a magical tongue
He’s also my best friend now
We lie together for hours
He caresses my hair
And looks into my eyes
He licks my neck
And kisses my thighs
He’s been here for me when everyone left
And he promises to stay for as long as he can
This pet snake has tamed me
I just try to not make him angry
Coz then he blames me
For leaving him under the bed alone and getting out
For taking out my old paint brushes and painting a bright sun or a white cloud
So I put away the paints
And got removed all the lights
Now Jake and I lie
In darkness every night
We make plans of our future
He still hasn’t showed tendencies of killing me
But he’s going to be there with me
Leaving red marks on my neck every day
And making my wrists bleed once in a while
We’re going to be together for long
He’ll sit on my bed if someone comes into my room
And try to prick them away until they go out
His slender body and velvet skin
Will wrap me in
He’s promised.
I’m afraid I can’t invite you to meet him
Because although I’m telling the truth, you can’t see him
And I will cry and plead and wail
And once again you’ll smile and say it’ll be okay. 

WHEN I MET DRAUPADI

A Vast wasteland
Reeking of blood and betrayal
A Sight of barrenness
Emptiness
Smell of swords stabbing love
Of gushing out blood
Queens and princesses losing all that they possessed
Pride, nobility, dharma, mere metaphors
Of past celebrations, memories, time that passed
Teasing, never to return
Smiles that curved, drinks shared, gulped
With promises of ties and bonds,
Never to be undone
In the middle stands a woman
Or a silhouette of one
A frail shadow of a palace
A tinge of love lost in conceit
She smiles at me
Without a glint of happiness
There are no lines of joy near her eyes or lips
But there are wrinkles
Eyelids drooping of tiredness
There is an epoch around her eyes
One that made her blind
And snatched away that tinge of love
Fearfully, I hold her hand, and she shows me around
We walk over ants devouring at corpses
Spread around like colourful marbles
We’re blinded by pyre fires ever burning
Red and orange rising from them towards the west
We look over broken wheels and arrows
And  broken promises and families
To a setting sun
What are you waiting for?
I ask her
For this sun to set
For this day to end
I’ve been waiting for years now.
When will your wait end?
She smiles at me, but stays mum
What happened here?
War, she whispers.
Its happening
And it will never end.

MARITAL RAPE

Some nights, I wake up with a snake coiled around my neck. His grip is smooth. Soft, just like your hands. He is here to kill me; I am here to get killed. There are no pretensions anymore. Or I’m probably too familiar with his intentions now.  I am suffocated by the silky coil around my neck. He’s whispering in my ear. Coaxing me to submit. Your voice is still excited, urgent. I am dying but I am not struggling to live. When was I alive anyway?

Some nights, I wake up with a huge anaconda wrapped around my body. Gripping me in. Holding me down. I can’t move but he is moving all over my body. He caresses my thighs. His sharp teeth between my legs, tearing me apart, but holding me in my place. Your tongue, working its charm like it always did. I can sense his pleasure in his movements.  I’m controlled but I am not struggling for freedom. When was I free anyway?

Some nights, I wake up with a black snake around my face. My body is free, only my senses are not. I can’t see, I can’t hear and I’m not allowed to speak. I could move, but I have to be dumb. My body isn’t trapped, but I am. Both your hands holding my face, positioning me still. I am shut up but I am not struggling to speak. Who listens to me anyway?

Some nights, I am woken up by their hisses. They are all over my bed. All over me, under me, around me. Each one of them has eyes like yours. Charming, bright eyes that did me in. I am naked on such nights. Bared of emotions, of cries. I lay still. I don’t try to disturb them. I let them have their feast. When did I ever have my body for myself anyway?

Each night you return to me thus, and each night I let you in. Each night you love me, and I give in. Sometimes, Serpents are not scary. Adams are. 

The Girl Who Hides

I hide. The corners of my bedsheet when they're messed, to not take it all off and set it again, I hide with a pillow and sleep on it.
A quiet lunch by myself. Two hours of pure bliss when I don't click a picture and don't have to check whether I held the fork in my right hand or left, I hide.
The smile I myself love! That one moment when I'm alive, I hide.
Applications to universities,
favourite new flowers,
a writer I just discovered,
a cute pup,
the sketch that turned out perfect,
that old jeans that fit me well,
the joy of my first cigarette.
That I cant sleep without songs,
that I cant eat without a fork,
that I don't love the rains,
that i don't have a gang of 'mains'. I hide.
Little moments every day. Moments when I'm reminded of my first crush in the middle of a lecture,
moments when i close my eyes and have a glass of chilled water
Moments when I successfully solve a car's number plate
When I suddenly like the vegetable I usually hate
I hide.
Not because no one wants to listen, oh so many of them do . But what then?
I say, you listen.
I say, you forget.
I say, you never forget.
Each time I say, I feel myself losing a piece of my already jumbled puzzle. I have to build this girl up. The girl with rainbow shaped hair and a floral skirt. The girl I drew in class third. I am building her up.
So I hide.
All her prices, inside myself.
Coz if I give them to you, I'll come to you each time I'm finding that piece, each time I'm working on her.
What if you lose it?
What if you refuse it?
The girl will break.
The rainbow will be incomplete.
So I hide.
All her shades, in the insides of my cheeks. I let them peek out, each time i laugh, i cry, i get angry, depressed. I let them out, and each time, with each emotion, I become.
I will show you the girl, when I'm done. I will show you the flowers she picked and put on her skirt, colours she loved and spread on her cheeks.
I will show you all her curves and twirls and curls . I will show you, when I'm not a puzzle anymore. I will show you, but not today. I will show you when I'm complete. But till then, I hide.