Commute

I am happy, committed, loved, content. Yet something stirs in me when I leave the train.

The train, full to its maximum capacity, struggling to make its way through the hustle of the day, works hard like some people I know. It’s a no-sleep life. Extra load on top, people hanging on the sides for their dear life, men spitting everywhere – the train starts with a grumble, and leaves without another look. People sit inside mindlessly. It’s just another day of the same old stuff: my hour-long commute, seeing strangers again, tolerating the stuffiness and stench, hearing some personal stories and unnecessarily loud drama, getting off to another platform. No turning back. There’s no time for that. We have to move, push, shove into the next phase, the next scene. It’s chop-chop in here; there’s no time to stop.

My POV:

I stand there, my world slowing down to one heartbeat. I feel like a fish in a desert. Am I the only one? I look around fast and new people have already rushed to replace me. Doors shut with a slam and that kind woman whose baby I adored will soon forget my face. With pleasure, I existed for 40 minutes – made love to that space of vibrant life, lived those stories I saw and yet once I stepped away, I am alone in this station. The train has filled me with a void of hopelessness and cold winds slap me as it pulls away and leave me here. I stare in disbelief. Sometimes I think: I left my heart in that train, I wanted to make them family and promise to be home again but unfortunately I’m left with nothing. At the end of the ride, I’m “just another stranger”. Humanity has closed its doors on me and moved on, stranger.

I wish that every time I saw the train leave, I didn’t feel betrayed. But I always look at it, shocked. How can you be so alien when once I was so intimate with your beauty? I feel small in this large world of mindless connections. I wasn’t made for this. I never will be.

~~~

Ah! It’s so nice to have written something again!

For the past few months, every time I started writing, I couldn’t stay with my emotion and finish the piece. This was really bothering me but hopefully now I’m back on track. See you soon!

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“Silence everyone” // Loneliness.

Deep, dark, deafening silence hovers around me-

Next to the hair on my arms, standing upright-

Just like visions in the eyes of cataract patients,

Stopping the clock.

In this wholesome emptiness, my heartbeats

f r e e z e .

 

It is so silent in this big town of little people.

 

I turn back to school days of “silence please”

And my veins rush with blood oh

How was there a dire need for what

Now carves homes out of nothingness

 

I see hollows of abysses in the holes of my room

I wish rats would house or

vultures would feast because

These spaces have housed inside

the wholesomeness

that I

once

was.

 

Silence permeates through wall and skin.

Silence permeates through skin

and

Walls keep breaking down before my eyes.

Stop them before I carve my own kind of sweet hell.

stop them.

please.

~~~

To everyone out there: I am okay.

In a train of thoughts I tracked through what silence could mean for some particular characters in my head and that simply took a dark turn. I really enjoyed discovering the topic of silence through this poem today and I would want to do more of these soon. Sorry for posting after so long. I want to post more often this summer. See you soon!

New endings

Nobody ever prepared me for goodbyes

They just came knocking at the door

Right when I was all cozy in bed.

Professors talking about final papers,

My last packet of pasta becoming waste.

The talk of seeing someone somewhere new

Old walks with familiar people that will change.

 

Everything will change.

The way they teased me or the way they loved me

Or the way they loved themselves.

And the things they have forgotten will be remembered

And the things they remember will have to be reminded

Then.

Or maybe they will never forget,

Maybe after all these years they will know

And fondly,

Who my person is,

And maybe they will raise their hand for a high five

And I will be confused in my handshake

Who knows how long greetings stay?

 

Maybe I am scared of my own wave

How it glides and moves and craves change

How does loss affect me

When this distance,

this cold wind, is what

starts my fire?

 

But things have to end for new beginnings

And so I will pack my bags and smile at my room,

Look at these people I love,

Give them hugs, “take care”s

And share a joke or two,

Creating memories till our fingers have to miles apart,

Incapable of a reminder of our tenderness.

 

Maybe loss hurts me,

(How can someone choose a reality away from ours?)

But in this hurt I will bleed with them,

Until our love reaches somewhere permanent.

Who knows,

Maybe that warmth will be enough to light a fire again?

 

~~~

Featured image is not my own.

Winter says,

IMG_20170112_205838_784.jpg

My fingers feel flowers;

Rusted swing chains;

Standard, pale, blue poles;

The touch of people who stay,

But they return to emptiness.

I walk along city streets

And broken pavements which

Water conversations for two

But the darkness is haunting.

The moon asks me for you.

I remember those rough hands;

Lines that gave you the freedom to fly.

I remember travelling over them,

Seeing my world within their grasp-

With dreams to hold and a future

Too beautiful to be mundane at all.

“Where are you, darling?” again,

The winds whistle to me.

I look at the stars, the deep blue sky

Ceilings seem too far-I don’t know why

My hands are clueless, catching misery.
Lines blurry, confused, craving, today.

“But wait for the interval!” I fervently say.

The lens will show me scaling, anon!

Threads will hold each other tight and

Rush to make rough, familial vines,

You watch! I’ll sail over winds and oceans.

I’ll chase the sun! I’ll befriend the trees.

The moment winter enters my skin,

Telling me, “Open your eyes and

Just see yourself awake, for once.”

~~~

Inspired by the movie La La Land! 🙂

A few hours before 2016

A few hours before the new year I saw an art-piece of another age

First, I was sure it wouldn’t be as good as other plans of the eve

But then I saw it

And with it my new year had already begun

Travelling back I thought about what life would hold for me

Struggles, conflicts, and fights

Over something/someone I loved.

It would be so difficult

But those few moments of pure bliss would make up for it,

Wouldn’t they?

They would,

I know.

I know this because although this movie was,

as I believe all art-pieces are,

Exaggerated and sown to stretch the fibre of our emotions

And gather them into something so overwhelmed with tension,

This movie was not meaningless.

I know that I was crying because of my age

And my affected heart,

But it doesn’t mean that it did not change me.

It was a beautiful revelation,

Of love and pure love,

And dedicaton,

And valour,

And conflicts,

And submission,

And respect,

And beauty,

To which I saw a girl dressed in a flowing kurta as one of another age.

To which I saw the efforts of an individual, and several others,

Change the mien of my eyes from an embroidered cloth to plain coloured threads merged together.

To which I heard the beats of party music as irrelevant, and unintelligent.

Unintelligent because of the time its engagers occupied,

Time, with its precious moments,

Which could have been better used,

But I cant say this without living the lives of a million,

And so I rest my case,

On the hold that sab kuch bhul ke yeh deewani aaj mastani ho gayi.

(On the hold that forgetting everything else, this lover has become intoxicated today)

SALUTE to Sanjay Leela Bhansali for decorating a thing of the past with his customary colours that resemble so much more than yellow or red.

All references of this post are made with relevance to the film “Bajirao Mastani”