dead and alive
it is our combined sorrows
all our trauma all our pain
and where I live
it is monsoon
all year round
and I ponder about those
who are gone
every life form
all the hurt they experienced
and I am sad
I am not happy
with this existence
what do we do
with all this agony
and every drop falling
from the sky
rubs it in
and I am forced to think
of the suffering
on and on
and I wish
I was struck by lightning
that would put an end
to this torture of living.
away at me
my mind starts
vanishing in bites
leaving my body
shaken
I am trembling
in horror
as wicked laughter
rings in my ears
and my flesh
is torn away
bit by bit
and I can see
the misery
in this world
I can see
the despair
the helplessness
in people
the suffering
the desperation
and blood starts
flowing from
my mouth
and I die.
hurting you
and your mind
and you are reduced
to a point of agony
piercing you so
that you break down
and you are contorted
you are not the same
you are slower than a worm
and your suffering
is so great
you howl for death
you want its sharp jaws
to bite into you
and eat you
you don’t want
this life anymore.
and the mind
a lamp whose light
is gone
life is unfeeling
the universe is garbage
the flesh and bones ache
we carry so much
suffering on our backs
we fall again and again
and then suddenly
we slip into
a deep darkness
and everything living
is going down with us
and then we realise
the whole cosmos
is falling
and the thud
that you hear
is the end of the world.
is a ball of pain
once the burning sun
penetrates it
it aches
and like in circuses
you would have
seen reader
how those
motorcyclists ride
the globe upside down
that same way
these shooting arrows
of agony
plague my skull
and I think of what it would
look like once I am dead
and my flesh is gone
the bone white and the holes
for the eyes and the nose
there would be no evidence
of any suffering
I would be silent
and smooth
saying nothing
my teeth closed tight
and when I
ponder this some more
it feels nice to know
how all that torture
and myself ill
and exhausted and unhappy
would just vanish
from my head
after I am dead.
like a ship
in dark stormy waters
while the world outside
is shining golden
what does it know
of my suffering
O birds who chirp
I always thought
we were friends
but I was wrong
I am here all alone
by myself in the world
there is no one else
and that is the truth
I realised
but it was too late
my body and my mind broke
and now it is not me
but my ghost
you see
I wander
not knowing where
always lost
and there I am
walking into the wild sea
drowning
in these roaring waves.
so deep
it has reached
the end of space
and now it is
confused about
the cosmos
and itself
and the body
hasn’t been
supportive either
illnesses have wrecked it
O life is over
I tell myself
the good times
are gone
and now I watch
the children around
and find them entertaining
and I realise
that you can feel delight
even when you’re suffering
and with the deterioration
of the body
strangely the love
for the world
gets stronger
the universe
is now like your
favourite sibling
you feel
so much for it
and then death
grabs you in its
sharp claws
and tears you apart
and before your heart
can feel anything
you become nothing.
in the heart
sshh don’t wake it
it will cry
like a baby
unhappiness is a person
a living human
feeling sad
and there is something inside
tugging you
it’s your mind
pregnant with memories
visuals flowing
like a river of tears
to live is to suffer
and be a beggar
or someone incomplete
and misery you feel
in mental pain
heaviness like
some thought
weighing like a stone
burying you
under it
and you want to
see yourself
through this
all that is collected
in your head
but they will never be over
they will still come
and sit like birds
on your head
and you will have to
live with them
till you are dead.
before I begin on a clean slate
and I realise that I have to keep
cleaning it simply because this thought
is so persistent it tears open my mind
and appears before me I spoke to my father
on the phone today before his tracheostomy
he won’t be able to speak again
the doctor said and I wished him
good luck and he said thank you
and his voice was already low and scarred
because of his damaged larynx
but it was still clearly my dear father’s
and I said that I would come and stay with him
when he was discharged from hospital
and he said okay and then I spoke to my sister
there is so much suffering in old age
I saw my mother’s agony some months ago
before she died suddenly
and now my father’s trauma it is very painful
and my sister said that there will be pain
after the operation death seems like such
a gruesome thing I mean before it happens
how it tortures its victim and I have only tears
and we are just blips on the screen of time
us humans and so love is the most important thing.
and cold yesterday
here in Kumily
I wore my blue woollen cap
and slept in the afternoon
and when I woke up
there was my father’s illness
and mine I was thinking about
as the dry leaves swirled
in my property
and I thought about
my times with my father
and the rest of the family
taxi rides in Bombay
the billboards
and I would go with him
to the market
to the bank
and now in the hospital
he is once again
breathing through his mouth
and tears come to my eyes
and in my childhood
he took us to restaurants
and there are so many things
I remember
and this distinct memory
of us at the Nehru Planetarium
and the show dazzled me
all those stars in the sky
and he would set his hair
and tie it with a handkerchief
especially after a haircut
and now there is his recurring
respiratory problem
his lungs his kidney too
have been affected
and he’s been in the hospital
for so long
and is being fed through a tube
through his stomach
and my sister says
he has lost weight
and there’s some
new problem
every other day
and when we were kids
I would say his head
looked like a piece of beef
that he liked so much
and soon the doctor
will do a third bronchoscopy
on him tomorrow
or the day after
to see if he needs a tracheostomy
and as tears fill my eyes
I remember this
beautiful afternoon
in Dadar
and my father my mother
my sister and me are boarding
this red BEST bus
on our way to Ghatkopar
and the sun shines
and now as my heart beats
I think of my sister
how exhausted she is
and how much
my father is suffering
and I realise
that life can be
really hard
really painful
squeezing my father’s neck
in its big hands
and I think of my father’s face
and I close my eyes.
Dominic Alapat 