Tag: sadness

Here Am I.

“The only way to get over a death is by seeing it as a life completed, instead of a life interrupted.”

~anonymous

From the shimmering stars in the vast sky,
To the hazy people just passing by,
Somewhere between the chaos,
You gaze in the far distance,
Utter my name in the softest cry,
So darling, 
Here am I. 

From the maddening screeches of the crow,
To the soothing waves of the boat you row,
Somewhere between these sounds,
You miss someone you once knew,
And sigh,
So darling,
Here am I. 

From the ecstatic laughs of childhood in the street,
To the table of two with one empty seat,
Somewhere between these memories,
You look up to the sky,
Asking Him why,
So darling,
Here am I. 

From the hairdresser’s uneven hair locks,
To the cheeky kid’s mismatched socks,
Somewhere between these imperfections,
You show your toothy smile,
Proud that she’s taught the world to be a little less shy,
And though she’s gone now,
You hear her in every mark she left,
For the world isn’t black or white,
You don’t live or die,
So darling,
Here am I. 

When We Meet.

But when it comes to you,
You and I both know that’s not true.

I keep imagining, 
That when we coincidentally collide,
And my eyes get a glimpse of your familiar face,
All those memories filled with a mix of pain and hatred,
Would rush through my veins,
And I would put on a cold outside,
Murmur the most harsh, ‘Nice seeing you,’
And force my pierced feet,
To walk away.

But when it comes to you,
You and I both know that’s not true.

For darling,
It takes everything in me,
To not melt into your wide arms when I see you,
Because with your vanilla scented hoodie,
And stupidly charming aura,
I can just be. 

And when the world stops moving,
And the tik-toks pause,
Is when you and I will meet,
And I’d ask you how you’ve been,
‘Just fine,’ would form on your lips,
And I’d think how having long eyelashes,
With dark brown eyes should be a sin. 

And no matter how much I try to hide,
You’d read me so easily,
For my face would scream come back please,
And you’d know in a second,
The kind of power,
You so effortlessly,
Still keep. 

597th night.

For even seeing your ever so alluring face,
Would cause my petite hands to quiver,
And pale legs to shake.

And this is the 597th night I gift to you,
Trying to make up,
For all the sleep you lost because of me,
And all the love in your dark brown eyes,
That I could not,
oh for the death of me,
see,

And this is the 597th night I gift to you,
Trying to make up,
For those 4 birthdays I wished you giftless,
And the aching pain in your heart,
You chose not to express,

And this is the 597th night I gift to you,
Trying to make up,
For all those times I didn’t notice,
how that deeply soothing voice of yours,
Almost as rough as that ten year old couch in your house,
But as homely as it made it your room feel,
Called out for me,
When I was too immersed in creating expectations,
not a single soul,
Could ever meet,

And this is the 597th night I gift to you,
With a blue bow like an icing on the cake,
And for the comforting closure we never had,
For even seeing your ever so alluring face,
Would cause my petite hands to quiver,
And pale legs to shake, 

And this is the 597th night I gift to you,
Trying to make up,
For all those times I never looked you in the eye,
Didn’t appreciate the things you said,
Or the teddy bear in my sack,
The taste of oreo silk in my mouth,
And your swift arms wrapped around my back,

And this is the 597th night I gift to you,
Trying to make up,
For every night we could have spent staring at the distant,
Yet,
Ethereal stars,
Hoping that one day your head will rest on my shoulder again,
I’ll trace your hair,
And this gifted night would finally become,
Ours. 

A Glass Of Rose.

But those roots below your heart,
Will wrap around my neck,
Crush my throat,
Burning it more than this glass of rose ever could.

alcohol is a sin.
With a glass of rose in my hand
And a raw cigarette in the other
Tonight I gaze at the front door
In an uncomfortably comfortable silence
And wait for you to come home 
And I seem to have lost count of how many times I’ve landed here
Sitting on the chestnut brown stairs
The same shade as your locks and mine
The ones you parted in the middle,
And flaunted your distinct bald line, 
I imagine you coming through that door
Any minute, any second
Shouting you’re back  
hoping I’m not up
For sleep doesn’t come,
Without you by my side anymore,
Ironically my toxic habits now,
Are why you’re lying within four white walls, 
Nevertheless, 
This glass is my way to cope,
And sometimes my mind drifts to the possible future,
And my throbbing head in your lap,
But those roots below your heart,
Will wrap around my neck,
Crush my throat,
Burning it more than this glass of rose ever could,
And yet I’ll lay there,
Choking, 
Gasping, 
Over and gone will be the wait,
For you’ll finally be here,
But all that pain makes me wonder,
That maybe,
Just maybe,
This time for me,
It will be too late.

- 'i'm sorry but his liver is too damaged to save.'

Mahabharat and Bharat

 They say Mahabharat and Bharat aren’t the same,
Yet husbands still seemingly own their wives,
Yudhistra gambled Draupadi away,
Marital rape is still legal,
For law doesn’t care about a wife’s say. 

They say Mahabharat and Bharat aren’t the same,
Yet women are still touched,
Like their bodies are pieces of fabric,
Just like when Dushasan touched Draupadi,
Sanji Ram touched Asifa,
And Mukesh touched Jyoti.

They say Mahabharat and Bharat aren’t the same,
Mariyam screams 
‘Talaaq, Talaaq, Talaaq’
Farooq laughs,
Another woman moves in the next day. 

It’s 2019,
And Draupadi is still considered a victim,
Not an empress,
For even now,
Being an assault survivor is considered a shame,
So tell me how Mahabharat and Bharat aren’t the same.
Ladies, we flawless. Even Beyonce agrees.

Colours

or maybe,
we will finally learn,
to appreciate this beguiling world,
once,
and for all.


Colours are a delicacy,
one only some are lucky enough to see.
Sometimes I think,
were the world colourless,
where would we be?
Would we smile as often
Would we feel as free
for our minds would be black and white,
and so would our dreams.

For sometimes,
colours can represent us
more than words,
themselves.
Look at me right now,
not knowing what to write,
but mind full of shades,

Each soul has a colour
Each feeling has a shade
Who knows,
a world so colourless,
and bleak
might leave our fragile bodies,
soulless,
and our overbearing hearts,
weak.

Our vibrant thoughts of bliss,
will be sucked out
like a dementor’s kiss.
Will we become numb?
Will we lose it all?
or maybe,
we will finally learn,
to appreciate this beguiling world,
once,
and for all.

Flawed.

I guess that maybe, I’m not the only flawed one here. For we are more alike, than we are unlike.

I stared at the person in the mirror. The person was me, but also not me. Messy hair, face filled with acne, too thin, big nose, I had so many flaws. I tried to remind myself that looks do not define who I am but oh well, society thinks they do. It’s as if society tells us to be who we are but in a certain way. The way I look doesn’t fit their beauty standards. My hair is a part of me that I’ve always despised. My eyes too. They are two things that I think are my most flawed physical traits. My eyes are too big and dark, and I have absolutely no eyelashes. My hair is always too curly and messy, and a little too dark. My sister stands beside me, at least two inches taller. I’ve always adored her hair, straight and blonde. I continue staring at my reflection, it’s a new habit I’ve developed. Its as if I judge myself so that others don’t have to. After glaring at myself for five minutes, something hits me. It’s quite obvious but I’ve never realized it before. My eyes and my hair; two things that I hate, are the exact same colour. They are both dark brown. I stare at my huge eyes, and then at my long hair, and then my eyes, and then my hair and so on. Without realizing I say it out aloud –
“My eyes and my hair are the same colour, ugh I hate them so much.”
My sister faintly chuckles and says
“You know, this is how we humans are. We judge each other and only spot our flaws. We fail to notice the one thing that brings us together. That is, how alike we are. In one way or another, no matter how diverse and flawed we all are, at the end we’re still human. It’s one similarity no one can change or take away from us. Sometimes we just get too busy hating on others and talking about their flaws that we forget how similar we are. Humanity brings us all together. For there is unity in diversity. I hope you know sister, that no matter how much you may despise your flaws, they still are what make us all alike.”
I don’t show it, but I am deeply affected by what my sister just said. I guess we all will always be the same no matter what. I guess that maybe, I’m not the only flawed one here. For we are more alike, than we are unlike.

Thank you for being here today. Thank you for not giving up. I love you.

Where the wild things are.

An entirely fictional, but at the same time – real short story.

I catch a last glimpse of my home and my city – Copenhagen, once so stunning and lively, now in ruins and lifeless. I then take a deep breath. Say goodbye to my home and enter the underground tunnel. I run to wherever the tunnel takes me. Hopefully, where the wild things are.

I can feel it coming. It begins with the clouds whispering within themselves, whispers which lead to aggressive arguments. It can strike any moment. Maybe after every three seconds, maybe ten or even thirty. It’s like the future; impossible to predict. And then it does strike, a flash of brightness in the sky which is as dark as a coal miner’s handkerchief. Throughout, the wind screams rather than howling. It’s uncontrollable and powerful enough to turn grasses into seas. The gusty wind blows through my hair, touches my skin and soul, makes me feel alive, like I’ve never felt before. It is wild and free, something I wish to become one day. The clouds continue to argue. Their anger boils and it seems like they’re about to burst any second, and then they do.

A shower of tears; rain. The rain washes the world, and brings a sense of calmness to me, which can never be found elsewhere. The pitter – patter sound is soothing, unlike the frightening thunder. This storm has come out of nowhere, without any warning, just like the soldiers. The storm will go but, the soldiers won’t. War is coming. I have to escape, I have to go through the storm. They say that “when you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in”. Well that’s how storm and war are similar. In was we find out who we are and how strong we can become. Soldiers are all around, they have stopped us from roaming around in our own home. I see them, screaming and pushing everybody into their homes. The tall, fair, muscular man shouts something to the others in German, and so it begins. Rifles are pulled, and firing starts. Anybody who tries to rebel or argue with them is shot straight to the heart. The scene is horrifying. How can a human be so cruel to another human. All of the soldiers look deadly and scary. I take a brief glance at all the bodies lying on the ground; lifeless. I see women, men, children; crying. Some sobbing for the loss of their loved ones, and some crying for just everything happening to them – getting tortured for being Jewish and getting trapped in their own country isn’t exactly a delightful experience.

I can already imagine what the days ahead are going to be filled with – food shortages, no electricity, curfew. We’re stuck in between a war, and this wasn’t our choice. I feel bad for leaving the people of my city behind, I wish I could save them, but as they say “During war, only you can save yourself.” I catch a last glimpse of my home and my city – Copenhagen, once so stunning and lively, now in ruins and lifeless. I then take a deep breath. Say goodbye to my home and enter the underground tunnel. I run to wherever it takes me. Hopefully, where the wild things are.

Penguins for the win. I really appreciate you, man. You are fearless, and strong. Don’t doubt yourself, and get that smile back on your face while reading this.

Why Stop?

I wrote this a while ago, hopefully it motivates you to take that chance, and do the risky things you’ve been trying to avoid doing in your lives.

They are there to help guide us, to make sure that we do not get lost in this complicated life of ours, but even if we do, we can always return to where we started, we can always go back to the beginning, because we have a whole journey, a whole life ahead of us. So my friend, why stop?

As the rain falls gently, I hear the ever so calming pitter – patter sound of it. No, not a storm, there isn’t even any thunder or lightning. Just light rain, which has been falling throughout the day. Soon enough, night has approached. Ah, night. Today, it looks rather darker and mystical than usual. The shining moonlight beams through the window, into my dim room. Sunlight is way brighter, but I’ve always found the moonlight rather ethereal and elven looking. Of course, the stars are a big plus. The moon is just so beautiful, there aren’t enough words to describe it. Although there is nothing special about its plain colours, it is just so glamorous in its own way. If I had to compare the moon to a human, it would be the type of person who has the looks of an angel but, is so mysterious and in real possesses the personality of a devil. The kind of person, whose beguiling looks can deceive even the most cynical of human beings. The mixture of the moonlight, and the soothing sound of rain creates a rather magical aura.

The trees outside my house, sway along with the wind as if dancing to a soft, melodious song. The water droplets, drop slowly on them, making their forest green colour look new as if just painted. The street lights on the road, sparkle brighter than usual, because of the dark and gloomy night. As if joining the stars in providing hope, during the darkest of times. It’s late, almost midnight, yet the city moves so fast as if trying to catch a train at the station. The cars move fast while trying to over take each other as if racing to see who reaches their dreams first. The traffic lights are there at every turn, to maintain their speed, so that they don’t destroy themselves during their journey to achieve their dreams.

If you think of it, it’s all like the human life. The cars are us humans, competing along with each other to see who accomplishes their goals first, the street lights are there to provide us humans with hope, even during the darkest of times. The traffic lights are there at every turn, every hardship in life, to remind us to take care of ourselves and not destroy ourselves while trying to fulfill all our dreams and desires. All those lights around us, represent our loved ones. The ones who stay with us during our bad times and help us when needed. A speed ticket, or a small accident represent the mistakes we make which help us learn and not repeat them again. These are all held together by one road, the road of life which takes us on a beautiful journey with several hardships and fun times along the way, until we reach our destination.

It teaches us that we can put loud music on, and drive at a fast speed, but if we have too much fun sometimes, then it leads to mistakes and too many mistakes can destroy us, which is why the lights are there. They are there to help guide us, to make sure that we do not get lost in this complicated life of ours, but even if we do, we can always return to where we started, we can always go back to the beginning, because we have a whole journey, a whole life ahead of us. So my friend, why stop?

Here is my daily dose of virtual hugs, for all of you out there living and struggling, for anyone who hasn’t give up. You all are amazing, man.