Why, Mama?

Mama, I want to know why you tell me I have a bad character,
when all I ever did was refuse everything bad
and tell you about it.
Mama, I want to know why you have a problem with me being happy;
I am rarely happy, and when I am
you do everything in your power to stop me.
Mama, did I ever do anything immensely wrong?
As a child, yes, I have made mistakes,
but none too drastic for you to label me a disgrace.
Mama, you don't know that I am living just for you.
I don't want you to be alone when everybody moves away.
Mama, why don't you love me?
Why don't you let me be free,
when you already know that I won't do anything.
Mama, why don't you respect my privacy?
Why don't you let me be me?
Mama, why is it that you curb my social life,
knowing that I already have less than five friends?
Why don't you let me hold hands, leave the house
and have a little fun?
Why don't you trust me, Mama, why do you think
that these petite hands can do wrong?
Mama, why?

My friend...really?

In the entire journey of being your friend, I have never felt this hurt. It feels as if you held a butcher knife, and plunged it through my heart, leaving it there, unattended to, bleeding, darkening, like my life. During our friendship, I felt taken for granted once, twice, probably a hundred times; I let it go, because you told me, you swore That you loved me and despised yourself For not being a good friend, so to help I told you you were a great friend. This time, I feel abandoned A little betrayed and a lot lonely; My last days on our common land, And all that I am packing is surely Not what I should have in my bag.

touched my love, touched me

“Don’t leave me alone, Maa”

I told her, jokingly

“What will I do home alone, Maa” 

I said, alarmingly;

While joking I never realised 

how I couldn’t let her walk on by 

alone, to exercise her muscles,

I always said I was worried about her,

why, still, didn’t I accompany her? 

She came back home, I said Hi 

I congratulated her on her new stride,

“Wow! 6 km!” I exclaimed, she smiled;

My appreciation for her made it worthwhile. 

Her expressions turned into anger,

I wondered, what could angry her?

A stupid teenager, I didn’t pay much mind-

Till she said, “Someone slapped me behind”

I was shocked, I trembled 

I felt like dying, I fumbled,

For words seemed to disappear from my mouth,

My brain screamed “NO!!!”, but it wasn’t that loud. 

My heart shook

My pulse stopped,

I felt broken 

My tongue chopped. 

I started feeling dizzy all of a sudden,

My mother continued, feeling unburdened:

“He was on a bike, went by in a jiffy,

Aimed for my butt, but he was in a hurry,

Instead he hit my back, too hard I felt it

I picked up a rock while my back dealt with it.

Angry, oh angry I was, how dare he hit me!”

She said this, I broke within

 what might she be feeling..

Why, my mother, after all she’s dealt with;

Why any girl, any boy, 

People aren’t toys. 

Nobody is safe. 

I cry in my room, for letting my mother go alone 

Out in this cruel world;

Should’ve known, the bad guys don’t leave even 

Mothers alone, 

Thinking about this, my blood curls;

I blame it on myself, 

For letting her go alone, 

For not thinking twice about the 

Uncultured civilisation,

Because to rescue my mother would’ve

Been my ultimate salvation. 

Now I cannot be saved,

Neither can anybody else 

Who has been touched, or 

Whose loved one has been touched. 

It’s the same. 

Any impression on my mother, falls on me. 

The world was once beautiful, but now it doesn’t seem. 

मैं इज़्तिरार

मैं इज़हार कैसे करू
अलफ़ाज़ में कैसे बयान करू -
मेरी रूह  मुझसे छिन गई,
जिस दिन मेरे पिता को ऊपर वाले ने छीन लिया ।

रश्क़ होने लगा उनसे, जिनको जन्नत में दिखे मेरे पिता;
हाँ, मौत का एक दिन मुअय्यन है मगर
उनके जाने से मेरी जन्नत छिन गई मुझसे ।

मैं यहाँ इस जहान में मुंतज़िर,
तमाम थी, अब अधूरा है दिल ।

You're a gem, babe

He said they'd be friends after their split,

so his words? they don't mean shit. 

He's just a memory that sucks,

and now, she doesn't give a f*ck. 

He was someone who undervalued her,
look now, he's cotton and she's fine fur.

These guys, they come like the tide;
in and out, they leave, throwing love aside.

She was torn apart by him,
broken, he made her life dim.
But isn't love supposed to enliven you,
be fuel to the fire within you?
She realised it, and got over the black phase;
it taught her to build herself such that she's chased.

These guys, they come like the tide;
in and out, they leave, throwing love aside.

She understood the value of her friends-
the jewels of her life that made even light bend.
She became stronger after struggling as his week long fling,
her family meant more to her than his damn engagement ring.

These guys, they come like the tide;
in and out, they leave, throwing love aside. 

HELP

Help 

/noun/ the action of helping someone to do something.

Help is offered when help is needed. Agreeable? For instance, if I am thirsty right now, and request for water, you’ll help me by offering water right now. If you refuse me water today and come to my house tomorrow, bringing along water for me, it is not help. 

Albus Dumbledore once said, “Help will always be offered at Hogwarts to those who need it”. 

I want to touch an extremely sensitive topic today. I do not have a veracious term for it, but it is something that involves friends. For some people, it is really hard to share their problems with someone; it is even harder to ask for help. I would like to express my thoughts about this through a subjective way; using myself as the subject. 

If I need help, I will not ask for it. I will not hold down the mask that hides my tear streaked face, my red eyes and strained muscles when I smile. I will not risk raising my hopes for being gifted with a shoulder on which I can rest my head. I might make myself available for everybody, help them when they’re low and always be the shoulder for someone, because I am like that, because I spread love rather than accepting it. 

But when I do ask for help, it takes every ounce of strength within me to make that move. 

How do you think it feels when I do not get help in return?

It hurts. 

So, friends and strangers, if your friend is visibly asking for help, please do not leave them there. It can break their might, and if not taken seriously, it can break their soul. 

My not so happy birthday was yesterday

Yesterday I completed sixteen years of my lovely life. I have walked on the grounds of Earth for sixteen years, treaded its mountains and swum in its oceans. Since I knew what birthday meant, I had been super excited for my birthday. I used to tell my parents,"Oi! Exactly one month left for my birthday!" or even "5 months left!". Absurd as it sounds, I now realise that it was an innocence that bloomed within me. My father used to tell me not to do it because I was only reducing the surprise element for myself. However, I continued with my mission to continually remind everyone around me that my birthday was just around the corner. Sometimes, to tease my father, I would say one day after my birthday "Woohoo! Just one year left for my birthday!". Ah....what a time that was.
Apart from my birthdays,  I would also get enlivened for the birthdays of others. My mother's, sister's, brother's and father's birthdays were as special to me as my own.
This enthusiasm for my own birthday lasted only till my fifteenth birthday.
I dreaded yesterday. For a month, I wished September to pass by quickly, and along with it, I wanted October 1 (my birthday) to pass by as well. My family brought me lovely things. In our family, we do not believe in materialistic love. It is about what truly matters. My sister brought me three novels, my younger brother made a large and beautiful card and a chocolate, my mother baked cake for me; my friends brought me chocolates, lots of love, pendants, scrolls and some even wrote for me (in the form of poems and proses). I am truly grateful for that.
But my sixteenth birthday didn't feel like it was supposed to. I didn't hype up, I wasn't excited for any gifts, my school day was exactly like any other, yadda yadda yadda.
The question here: What was missing? What was the problem?
While writing this, I found the answer.
October 1 is my birthday, and there is a very long story attached to it. Maybe, some day, I will post it here. But anyway, the point is that I was originally going to be born in the last days of September but my father said he greatly despised September and wanted me to have the same birthday month as his: October. Exactly 4 days after my birthday, comes my father's birthday. October 5.
Revision: a birthday marks another year that one has lived.
So, now I know why I couldn't feel this birthday of mine.

It is because as I grow a year older, my father does not. 

Love: a riddle that needs solving

When we say “I love you” to a person, the meaning depends upon what we think we would do for the person, what the situation is and what the person did to receive an immediate response of love declaration. 

We define love the way we experience it. There is no feeling greater than the feeling of being loved. But how?

For some, it is knowing in their minds that they have a safe place in the arms of that person and nothing can harm them there. For others, love is knowing that at the end of the day, they are happily accepted as who they are (all versions of them). 

Love is that presence beside us in our ups and downs. It is the wind that dries our tears, the waves that push our raft, the moon that guides our boat on a dark night. It is the peace in our mind that tells us that after a long day, when all our masks have melted away, we have a warm cave to sleep in without being judged, condemned or hurt. 

However, love is also the line that makes us surrounded by a definite boundary: out of protectiveness, it is the reason of our dilemma and tears: making us question every decision we make, it is the itch in our minds, the pain of our heart. 

Love makes us experience EVERYTHING. 

That is why is it so rare, therefore, so beautiful.  

Love and pain; our promise

There is something I should know:

Sometimes, it is okay to let go. 

Summer is great, but maybe I need to let it snow. 

I need to let myself grow.

It is okay to love, but important to live;

Love is alive, and cannot be trapped within a dead thing.

Love demands to be heard, pain demands to be felt:

both, a living reminder of being human.

Love can be chained and pain can be freed, 

Both, a living rendition of my promise-

I will never leave your side, I said it with a smile;

Living up to it is difficult when instead of being with you-

I am behind.

Your happiness is a living reminder of our promise, 

where I am living it behind the scenes:

Behind the veil of your stainless steel;

Protecting, defending-

You are the body, I am the dress. 
I protect you, I defend. 

When I realise

When I realise

  that sunshine no longer brightens up my eyes, 

no longer makes me run away into the shade; 

rain doesn't make me feel awake anymore,

I stop wanting to catch a butterfly on my finger and make it linger there,

that I no longer associate flowers with love as I associate it with grief,

and I have begun counting my days backward; 

Counting days backward to the day I had to start living without you,

that I start dreaming when I wake up and living when I sleep,

And I no longer wish for class to get over:

it is more like wishing for my life,

I understand that without you

I am merely a pebble who has forgotten loving and living and wishing,

 being in the sun, in the rain, away from pain.

Merely a pebble.

NOW

I want to know why you have turned into this person,
a person you weren't when, at least, I was there in the depths of your heart.
Why is there an unfriendly smile for me without reason,
when I was the one who made fired up your emotions and made them start.

But then again, does it matter?

Not really..

But I did occupy space with you and I did share mass,

I did sit on the same bench, the same swing set,

I did hold your shoulder when you would cry,

And I did soothe your nose when it was swollen and wet,

I did write a thousand words for you,

And I did call you over.

I did console you with a caressing voice,

And I did wish the best for you,

Until and also after it was over.

But surely, I did matter then and I don't matter now.

Is 'now' now? Or the second that went by,

or 2 seconds before that,

or 3 or 4....

But this 'now' is desperately long.

I have not been replaced in namely position yet,

but in the emotional position I held.

I know it's complicated but now there is somebody else who holds your hand,

And hugs you back,

And makes you laugh.

But I don't think there is someone who can write a thousand words for you,

All true

And full of meaning.

But then again, our now stretches forever into the hours and days and months next.

Don't hurt me

Words hurt, like

“You’re stupid” right to the heart’s core.

He runs away;

And slams the door.

Reaches home and holds a blade,

Tears fall down in a cascade.

He says, “where did I go wrong?

I have tried to be so strong.”

But he draws bloody lines on his arm,

Running through in his- a storm.

He drops the blade and washes his body,

Cries, “”why can I not be more sporty?”

“Why do people hate my fat?”

They answer,

“Because you are the only one who has that flab.”

He skips gym class,

Despite being a scholar with full marks.

Receives a C+ Grade,

Because he was scared, didn’t attend the class.

Hoping for just one friendly smile,

To help him walk that extra mile.

….he was scared.

Lonely in the whole world,

Fearful not of the dark but the monsters in it.

Apprehensive not of his body but the people who kill it.

Why can’t fat not be beautiful?

Why can’t people learn to accept themselves and others,

The way the really are?

Why does someone’s pimple or his maggi hair bother you?

The pimple wouldn’t but the words will always leave a scar.

An apology

If you know me, you would know that I have always asked my friends to love themselves so that they could learn to love others. But today, I am going to write about self hatred instead of self love.

If there is anything about me, it is that I am not good at expressing my gratitude.
If I like you, and I talk to you a lot, you have probably noticed that I am caring one moment and completely sarcastic the next.
You must've seen a change in me, like multiple attitudes. And maybe, I hurt you because of it. 
I might've been very interested in your life one day, and extremely disinterested the other. 
Maybe you've felt bad...you might've changed your views about me but hey, I'm still the good person you used to talk to.

So consider this an apology, a letter, a poem, a song, anything, but know that it comes straight from my heart. 

You are so nice to me.
You seem interested in my life and show me lots of love.
You tell me that as friends: we were meant to be,
like the sand and the sea.
It makes me happy.
And whenever I am happy,
a feeling of fear, a chill creeps into my body from my heart.
I feel scared,
euphoria turns into despondency because of the fear
that I will do something wrong to mess it up.
And that feeling of depression and desolation ruins me.
It brings a change, a weak metanoia;
but a metanoia still
that destroys the moment.
And that is how one day you are speaking to an elated soul,
and the next- a completely different one.
And how I mess up perfect friendships just like that,
makes me want to run on the ground and fall into a hole.
How is it that I can wish so hard for a moment to come,
and then ruin it by doing something really bad?

My heart tears at my mind for doing that,
and I tear at my soul;
and an apology is required.
I am sorry for killing the sapling you sowed in our garden.
Sorry for killing something that was meant to be a giant tree.
And I know, if you cared about it, a mistake like this can never be pardoned.
I am sorry for all the stories I had to render incomplete.

where is my voice as a free person; where is my home

I agree to some extent,
there are days I work in a disgusting manner, only creating more work for others,
And days I influence the young not to work better.
There are days I disregard my duties,
And give my jobs to the younger one,
And days I use my tongue not for taste but to run my mouth.
There are days I shamelessly bring in my report card with B's along with the A's,
and days I dress up a little more than others.
There are days when finding my bag is like moving in a maze,
And days when I fight with the young in a bloody craze.

But if I am answerable to you then why don't you hear me out,
for the deeds that I have done why don't you ever cease to shout?
Where is my voice as a person not suppressed,
where is the equal treatment against breaking rules for the rest?

How can I tell you?
I feel as shameful as you feel angry at me for not being responsible,
And I feel sad as well.
It is so hard for you to realise that I can be sad too, so you never consider the possibility at all?
Where are you when I stumble and fall?

This is not to explain myself but to show you,
Out of what of think of me, what all is true

I love you so much papa

Today I lost a piece of my soul, 
And it is irreparable. 
Bereft of your pain, I am happy for you
But now I don't have my best friend anymore. 
You were the one who not only leaded me, 
but also held my hand and walked beside me. 
You were a person who's love was like a giant tree, 
in the midst of a dreary, damp forest; 
A little love blowed to thee 
could fire up your metabolism and then, 
You spread love and laughter as proliferating as a tornado. 
You are my best friend, 
and I know I was yours,
we shared a connection that was beautiful and lovely and wonderful and, real. 
I talk to you from my heart and, 
they are anything but missed calls. 
You never missed a message from me, 
And I hope you always call me. 
That evening you told me it was okay to cry, 
But important to be the strong pillar
of a naive mother. 
I miss you already because you were the one who could tap the inner me, 
and instil that drive, that motivation
And I feel alone because I have lose my best friend.

Coffee & you; bitter

When I am drinking coffee,

The image of your face comes flitting into my mind,

And strains of belongingness on your face,

And I wonder where the belongingness  comes from,

As you are not mine and I am not yours.

And then I realise what the belongingness denotes,

It is merely an indication of how much more happier you are now,

Now that you left the home I made for you.

And then when you think that my mind has wandered off somewhere,

Your eyes fill up with water but I know it is mostly pain,

And you think that I cannot see it, that I am busy,

But my heart has a soft spot for you yet,

Even though the intense love has faded away leaving only immense care,

But anyways, I can see it,

See the pain, see how you don't belong with the one you are now,

And it is okay,

I will come again, love,

I'll come and save you again.

We had to grow up

I was talking with my friend about the games we used to play,

friction car races and spinning beyblades,

not one ounce of care about reaching home late,

because those games were our life, and that's where we would stay.

We would be sad about our friend not giving us candy,

or not being invited to a mutual friend's party,

we weren't angry about playing with people from different backgrounds, because frankly-

We didn't care.

When we were young, our language was not words,

words like “aaaaah” “YAAAAY” “hahahaha” were merely sounds that were not understood as consonants,

but as emotions.

Fights were about playing hide & seek or Tag you're It,

not about who liked and commented on whose post, all that shit.

When we were young and immature,

we would get sad if our jokes were not laughed upon,

now we are sad if somebody laughs on a joke cracked by our friend.

Being children, we would angrily pout if our friend dropped our cup,

now we are angry because our friend deliberately threw the cup to break it.

This was our life,

But we had to grow up.