Light

Child, do not feel so broken
there is both light and dark inside of us
and while the world is torn by war and hatred
make sure your light shines through.

They will try to evade your light with darkness
and keep on telling that you are a failure
remember only one thing then
gather all your light
and make sure it shines through
even if you are consumed by darkness one day
you wouldn’t have gone without a fight
their dark will not evade the light
that is left in you
even if it is a small flicker
do not let it die
your light should be greater than their darkness combined.

Advertisements

Silence

No words
Empty expressions
The same silence
Urge to pour out
Maddening thoughts
But in a defense
Mechanism the words
Keep quiet
Not allowed to slip
The tongue’s so tied
Loud silence
Almost deafening
The thrill of confession
Until the well kept
Secret leaks
And a new kind of silence
Falls in
Still loving
Still caring
But without falling
Betrayed, fallen
Still moving
A child, a friend
A lover, a stranger
Been all
Yet nothing
Silence still kept
Empty expressions
The day fate befalls
The words will spill
And again
A never ending silence.

My superhero

I was in class 11th
when i joined physics coaching
everything was great
except the timing.
It would be daytime when I left
but dark when I get back.
to make it easier to travel
We hired a rickshaw, not a cab;
I say not a cab
purposefully to point to my fear
the ones I have shared
in the posts earlier.
The rickshaw guy had always been a good man
dropping us, picking up
not riding too fast, neither too slow
trying good as much as he can.
He still sits outside my society
and asks me how I am doing
the smile of the man is enough sometimes
to keep me going
in spite of all bad that happens in the world
it really isn’t about the cab
but the driver.
my rickshaw guy is a plain common man
but to me, he is my superhero!

Unsafe commutes

On my way back home
from a long tiring day
took my cab
the usual way
he drops me last
because I live too far
but last few days
there has been an extra man in the car
who gets in the cab in between
I don’t know his intentions
they could be mean
or otherwise
but society suffers a lot
of safety issues
not everyone reaches home alive
so my friend asked me
to drop off at her home
and take some other ride
I took the rickshaw
back home
but the streets were a bit dark
I felt a strange fear
my house wasn’t still very near
a lot of people passing by
would stare back at me
and no, not everyone is evil
but that’s how we usually feel
Finally reached home safe
and wondered over a thought
all the ones that are dropped before me
never gave it a thought
that a girl drops off last
with one extra strange man in the car
but the world doesn’t really care it seems
I guess you were right when you said
Me for me.

On the death bed

Silently departed
Without a trace
Couldn’t keep up
With the mind baffling pace
Time like a rat
Kept on cutting the thread of life
He hadn’t even asked his love
To be his wife
Death knocked too early
There were dreams to chase
Life he didn’t live
Just ran the race
And puffed away in dust
Though all go and go they must
But what will life look like
When you lie on the death bed
With flickering thoughts
And silencing breath
Are you really ready
To face your death?
In his final minutes
All that came to him
Were the regrets he faced
All his life flashed before him
All dreams he had forgotten to chase
Were ones that mattered most
But were left to be lived
Died with him
Is that what we all wish for
To see on the death bed?

We will be fine

Your eyes shine
with flames of anger
but in it
I see a need
hidden down deep beneath
that needs to speak
A dark and dispelling presence
of this man
makes me weak
on my knees
And I get drawn
distance is hard to keep
Love or lust I don’t really know of
But I do believe
there is a bleak
hope that this man’s darkness
will dispel mine
and this time
we will just be fine.

Losing all hope

When pain cripples your body
ever felt the urge
to give up?
some bad time stays
it doesn’t really go
people ask you
to go with the flow
but the hurt is too deep
and scars too exposed
to let the wound heal
to let you find any hope
so you cling to something
work, love or lust
and sticking with it
sometimes you spend your entire life
but have you ever wondered
when your hope dies
will you be able to survive?

Finding solace in silence

The world was rattling endlessly and lamenting over their grief. No one stopped talking. They all wanted to be heard. Nobody wanted to listen. A situation of endless chit-chats and confusion. Among the quagmire, there sat a face, silent and calm, as if lost in some other world. The eyes were still, not clear though. They were too complex to watch. There was a strange silence on her face. A silence that had probably come to her after years of talking and having no listeners. She looked back and did not smile. Hers was a genuine face, a bit worn out but subtle. She appeared to be an introvert trying to fit into this place. She didn’t seem much familiar to the surroundings. She probably was drinking for the first time. While I was observing all this, soft music played in the background and she seemed to love it but wasn’t too open about it. She then took her phone, probably got a call or something and she said a word or two and disconnected the call. It was most probably her mother. As soon as she disconnected, she finished her drink and went out. She had however left her purse. I felt it as my duty to go after her and give it to her, only if it was possible. Just like her, I was sitting there alone, basking in the gloom of my loneliness and observing the strange crowd. I exited the door and looked around. There was a crowd gathered on the road, muttering and whispering about some accident. I struggled through it to see what had happened and I found the girl. She was lying there in a pool of blood. I was distraught. Minutes earlier I had seen her drinking and she looked quite okay. People were talking about how she threw herself in front of the incoming car. I was numb. For that moment, I felt nothing. Someone checked her pulse and …nothing. She was dead. I opened her purse to check if I could find someone to contact. Nothing. I looked around for her phone but couldn’t find it. My thoughts were too scattered to make out what to do next. Somebody had called the ambulance and she was taken away. I got back home, her purse still in my hand. I took it not for money, there was none. I wonder how she paid for the drink at the bar. There was only a piece of paper inside. I was nervous. I didn’t know whether to open it and read or to just throw it away. Finally, I opened it. It read:

“I am glad you found this. I know you will be curious. Everyone is curious when people die or are about to die. It is only then they listen. I just want to tell you that I am ending this life not because I am selfish or a coward, as many people would say. I am a brave girl who fought for too long. I fought with my family, with friends and with my lover. I fought with every person I found. Why? Because nobody listened to me. Because I had a story to tell, I had feelings to share. But nobody heard. They all said just one thing that I was mad. I was depressed and that I need help. But even if I did, they weren’t there. They didn’t want to hear a thing. That was the only help I needed but never got. So here I am. I will probably jump off a building or throw myself in front of a running car. But please don’t be scared. I am happy to have my words heard. At last. I hope I find peace on the other side, if it exists. Thank you for listening, it was all I needed.”

By the end of the letter, I was stunned. I did not cry. I folded it back again and put it back where it belonged. I continued with my daily life. But with one change. I decided to hear when people want to be heard and I decided to not keep my story inside. I will give it a form, maybe written words. But I will not die.

The Orphan

She told him a tale of

an orphan who was never loved

and told him how lucky he was

to have her as his mother.

She would tell him stories

of near and far

of how life for most people sulked

and then again tell him

how lucky he was

to have her as his mother.

The child grew up to be a wise man

wise because he never believed her words

not every mother loves her child the same

and perhaps he wasn’t really lucky to have her.

Because every time

he tried to spread his wings and fly

his mother would stop him

and would tell him to wait until the wind goes by.

The wind was never her concern

he wanted him to stay when she would be grey

she worried what would she do

in case he flies away.

So with lies she made him stay

cut his wings, made him pay

when he tried to take a flight,

to run away.

Why call their love unconditional

the wise man did think

he imagined the orphan

cursed his own life

counted the orphan’s blessings.

And while dying he did tell

his story to this person

and told him how it feels to have someone

and not be loved

better to be the orphan.