Escaping Reality

Arre ruk ja reh bandeh ?

is it strange asking someone to stop when that is the only thing that keeps her alive

It’s just you and you and your dreams

fighting for a place in this nasty world

cause you have that hunger for legacy not for label

you are tired, your eyes bleed, your heart screams

And for what

a name carved somewhere?

a number in an account?

when you know all of it will turn to ash

ONE DAY

or

you want to start with

DAY ONE

cause you still believe in yourself

in your fight

in your scars

in your story

in your fate

even when the path is unclear

blurry like those days

when you stayed alive on that single hope

of becoming better

for yourself

but now

you walk on the path

like someone who is treading on eggshells

careful,

patient,

taking your time,

when you already know you are running short on time

ahh ! Time

one thing you always surrender to

living in that loop

waiting for sand to settle down

regret to pass

heart to heal

but for whom?

no one

cause it will be always be you

fighting for your place

in this unkind world.

i wrote this at 2am. i don’t think it’s finished. i don’t think it ever will be. posting it anyway because some things are meant to be released, not perfected.

here you are again —looking for love in all the wrong places,in all the peoplewho have already left.

you stay awake.

you search for hope in dark cornersof rooms that were never really yours.

you feel lost.you feel controlled.isn’t this what you wanted?

no one to reach for —all your life just wanting to be loved and here you are again,

seeking warmth in unfamiliar places,

in strange people,because you have nowhere else to go.

isn’t that what life becomes sometimes —running back to your space,your blog,your people,your forgetting?

you forget.you always forget.

but at what cost —aren’t you losing yourself with each passing day,little by little,

to the noise of everyone else?

And here I am again, contemplating my oldself

But

Where do I go from here?!

Backward

Or

Forward

Do I miss him

Or

Do I wish him

Things seem pretty complicated

Ain’t they?

Or just i have always been like this

A little weird

(Weird, really?

Nah! i am cute

But weirdo can be cute

Ahh! I am both)

A little old school too

May be..

A bit of everything

memories, moment, and hope

But I have a lazy bum

and a tired mind

So I do nothing

But stare at old photograph

“Living”, I say

But how?

Aint i doing the same now?

Or even better

Making new memories,

trying out different things,

Watching stars,

Finding happiness in small things

Ahh! Did i say ‘finding’?!

I shudder and take a pause

A pause to think

to believe

to accept

Was my existence enough to make me happy,

in old times?

Or

Was i half living?

I am wary of my existence now

But

I have so many untitled documents to fill it now.

As they say, miles to go

Smiles to give

Aisle to take

So everytime the phone rings,

I don’t disconnect

Don’t put my pastself on mute

Nor cut the cable

Instead

I answer it, “can u wait a little while as

I have a life to live”

And in those times of your life when u get “sick” and find yourself in the “background”, may the “touch” of their voice act as a “cure” for you and no amount of “breakdown” leaves you “hanging in the void”. And because of that “change”, you will promise yourself to “come back when you can”. Though there might be some “slipping away” in “midnight” and there might be moment of “if you were here now”. But there will also be a whole lotta life to live where someone will say “I choose you” and you will “drop everything” just to be with your “sister”. So “heal” , and when love comes knocking at you door don’t ruin it by saying “next year people”.

That night,

when the life was celebrated

You found light

in the darkness of being lost

to the voices echoing within the

four walls.

That night, the candles were lined up,

Dough was prepared,

All to celebrate You.

just at the moment,

you looked for solace

under the moonlight

to cheer yourself up.

That night,

the couple made love,

the children tickled eachother,

You found yourself crying

as you could have killed him

with the bare touch.

To those who take pleasure in the name of violence- counting dead bodies and taking sides. Taking participation in a activity of terror where a voice of young boy is choked on the pride of being nationalist or anti- nationalist. Different threads of faith are now loosened up to follow the course of action taken by other people. trembling voice, shaking hands are now shut down forever. All that is left now is firm body.

To all those who take pride in the scratches, brusies, marks of being protestors. Creating a wave of dissent to fight off the anti wave of consent. Is it the same dissent that a guy takes as a consent to rape a girl? Or Is it a dissent that is shown by an eighteenth year old girl to socially identified norms? However, A weak dissent. I suppose, this dissent is a dissent of vulnerability entwined in each others hand. We fear that if we let go of thread of ‘unity in the name of religion’, we all will fall apart and chop off each others hand that we once held.

We are scared of our own identities, questioning our own beliefs, fighting our own brother and sister to get sense of who we are.

To those who take pride in providing a light to already lit matchstick. Hiding behind the mask of leader, guiding us against the light, who takes delight in being followed by flock of sheep. Wrapped in black cloth of capitalism or clad in white saree of socialism, are generally misunderstood as wellwisher for spitting out stuff in the hands of people begging for mercy.

It is time to throw the corroded dagger from the time of independence, and to embrace the path of coexistence without letting that thread of unity to decide our fate. It is time to be fearless and vocal about who we are really.

Little did she know
Life resides in camouflage,
White on black
Or
Black on white
For her,
Life is all grey.

“What you do when things get heavy? “
I let him go

Lying by your side
to keep you warm,
Even if i freeze to death.
Isn’t that tragic?
Laughing at the empty form,
Seeking heaven’s breath.