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.