Wanting to turn the cold winds into a shower, she waited for the storm. That storm, she believed, would take her through a secretive egress that’d clear all clouds. The rhythm in her chest paced up signifying some complicated happiness.
If someone discovers you while yearning to be discovered, the feeling remains etched. Then, waiting wouldn’t be exhausting; it also won’t any longer be only the essence of sadness or loneliness. That was what she felt, a roller-coaster of emotions, that couldn’t easily be put in words.
What if that doesn’t happen at the dawn? Maybe, it’s meant to be at the dusk. The end of the wait will be that vibrant sunset, the best show saved only for the end of the day!
It could’ve been anything but it just wasn’t wanted.
Yet, a wish is made shaping flexibly to expectations.
Why do we make a wish only over a falling star?
Is it not vacating today and burdening tomorrow?
An extra-ordinary warrior, they call.
An extra of ordinary worry-er, it seems.
When everyone is out of mind, who cares what’s inside one’s mind?
Have you seen or been someone instilling hope into people facing tough times? I don’t mean advice here, but lending ears and providing words of comfort. I’ve been on both the giving and the receiving ends. Though the intention is good, sometimes, it just fuels the anxiety. This is a free verse that addresses such a scenario.
Have you had a night full of peaceful sleep that your eyelids just refuse to open, in spite of you being inspired with dreams of hope to have a productive day? I just had one such today. At such times, which dreams will you let take flight – the dreams of the night or those of the day? Today, sadly for me, it was the former.
Here are two takes on the same thought; each one is a verse of the poetic form – Naani.
——– Take 1 ——–
Her eyelids refuse
to leave the bed of peace,
impeding determined dreams
when it's time to take a flight.
The more unliveable our urban centres become, we as tourists retreat into the new-age oases – the sustainable hotels – which are just illusions of naturalness. Even when they have committed to reducing wastes and carbon footprints, how long will we be able to live in this fantasy without having to deal with the repercussions?
Has innocence lost its meaning at present times? We live in a world where even children are deprived of innocence. As young adults, most want to give the illusion that they are older than they actually are. Doesn’t this thought make one consciously lose a valuable virtue?
Facing the fact, it’s really hard to keep the inner child alive as we grow. But, is it not mostly because we want to look mature in the eyes of society? Let’s try recalling an incident when one of our peers would have behaved with innocence, maybe jump in the stairs or walk like a toddler used to. We’d have certainly heard voices about he/she acting weird, naive, or behaving so to grab attention. Why can’t it be considered simply as an act of joy and enjoyment?
It is been a long time since I have posted on this blog. My mental health took a drop in the last couple of months and now that I am in a position to talk about it, I wanted to share my experience. I started working from home in March 2020. It was really exciting initially because I could spend time with my family for an extended period. But as time went on, the lines between personal and professional aspects of my life got blurred. There were days in which I used to work for 14 hours straight. It had a serious impact on my sleep and eating habits. I knew I was in a stressful situation but kept on going without a break.
There’s a concept called spoon theory regarding your mental health. We have 3 pieces of cutlery – spoons, forks, and knives. Spoons represent the energy you can expend today, forks represent the stressors or things that take up your energy and knives represent the energy you have saved up for tomorrow. As the days went on, the number of spoons I had kept on decreasing. When you do not have enough spoons, you start using your knives. One fine day, I was out of spoons and knives and I had my first anxiety attack. The feeling of helplessness and inability to breathe was one of the worst things I have experienced in my life. I knew I could not do it on my own anymore and I reached out for help. I started seeing a therapist.
Have you ever struggled to get out of your frame of mind, and lost peace? This is a poem that depicts such a circumstance.
My happiness is history.
I had wings colorful and bright.
Out of the blue,
I got trapped in a misery jar.
Difficult to breathe,
I played along as far as I could.
I sat with my pain, and
Acknowledged its presence.
❝They say I'm an adamant child.
What else would I do?
I wish I wasn't born.
I know it's too late.
I'm 14 now.
There's another wish.
I've locked it in out of fear,
of being labeled a monster.
I wish to see "Her" in the coffin.
This is a free verse that depicts the plight of climate migrants who are forced to flee their homes or nation for the collective actions of the entire humanity. A six-wordstory is quoted at the end, for the prompt word ‘free’.
These freed victims have no plans. From non-existent places, they start roaming, bearing globe's guilt against their freewill.
Their minds are now enslaved. As masses, they've survived troublesome days, yearning to breathe free in closed spaces.
When free-land is demarcated with boundaries, and open skies are only for free souls, where else can they settle freely?
We often go through tough times when we face failures, when expectations crowd or we’re in the spotlight. We wish we were left alone in a dark place without any disturbance. But, is it okay to welcome gloom into one’s life volitionally? At least with me, it’s a no.
There are different shades of darkness.
An eerie silence and moonless night.
Luminescent beach with none by side.
Dense forest with torch in hand.
Sullen sky accompanied by stray winds.
This is a free verse, each line framed with six words, comparing water with the life of anyone who is in trouble. Based on the mind’s perception, the hope for reality might evaporate or offer a solution. A six-wordstory is quoted at the end.
Amorphous, but still assigned a colour.
She closed the doors of perception.
Things known transformed into things unknown.
She got lost in the waves.