Red

My grandma sat me down one afternoon

In her lap and introduced me to a colour- red

This is you, she said

This is the colour of your cheeks when

Your father tickles you after you pretend

To be upset

The colour of your hands

When you cross them too tightly

Hiding behind me when mother

Comes for you angry

And when you run outside

In afternoons like this

Red is under your feet

Tired and burnt, But so alive

Know this colour, darling

So later when they tell you it’s scary

You look them in the eye

And say, No. It’s me.

When they tell you it’s evil

You bless them

And say, No. It’s me.

Know this colour darling, know yourself

Touch. Love yourself.

When they tell you you’re impure

You know it’s not you. It’s them.

Not In Love

I'm not in love with you. I don't remember the last time I was. I'm not even crying over you anymore. I used to, but then the hurt never stopped so I learnt how to stop tears. I'm crying over myself, a little, a lot, everyday. But there aren't any tears for myself either. I'm just, confused. Where do I go from here? I know I have to go alone, but where? And where will you go? On that path we chose together? I don't think you'll go there. You're not the one I chose that future with. You're different. Thank God I know that at least because I have no idea of who I am. I have no idea of who I'm supposed to be. I know I'm supposed to move forward and move on and forget the past and forget you and forget myself but then who do I become? I've been lying here in this old t-shirt for I don't know how long because I don't know what else to do. I'm tending to my wounds, carefully caressing each scar on my skin and taking my time to learn to love myself, since I was so busy loving you, discovering your body and your heart that I totally forgot about this one. So I'm sitting here now, taking slow drags of the abundance of pain lying in front of me. The stock is full and I have no idea where it's supposed to go, how it's supposed to fit into me. There's still love inside, so I'll have to empty some space. It'll take time, some learning and unlearning and some breathing. But it's difficult to breathe here, there's only smoke around. I caused it, I know, but what could I have done? I opened Pandora's box and now I have to live with it. But how? My vision is clouded and my heart is beating too fast but my limbs are too tired now. Have you ever experienced this? When you're so aware of your breaths that it's the only thing you can feel but you're still so numb that you're not even sure if you're breathing fine. I don't know what I'm supposed to feel. I think I'll just feel tired today, and figure out the rest tomorrow, when I'm not so tired, or later maybe, because I don't think this tiredness is going to go away any time soon. It's here to stay, it seems, longer than you did.

At least there's space to stand

It's a busy busy day
With cocktail plans and morning wishes
There's online shopping and offline whining
Fashion wars and unsolicited advices
There's also wisdom, if you missed
Right there in those corner seats
It's too many lives for me to handle
To worry about
The one I woke up with seems too easy now
I can't talk to faces I think I might know from yesterday
or last week in the same train
I can't run as fast as they do when the train stops
Because
I'm too busy making a rhythm out of all these footsteps
It's chaotics and cacophonous
The same cacophony everyday
Honestly I'm bored of even the love I see here
Because then these faces
Are with different faces
Every month, every week, every day
I can't run fast enough to grab a seat
And I've been so slow all my life
That I'm happy with the little things
If I have someone to text or an interesting phone to peep into
Some days I'm happy when there's no one to text, also
And just some gossip to listen to
Today, I'm glad at least there's space to stand.

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.