Cry

When, and if I cry
and I open up to you,
let me.

When, and if I cry,
and I’m very drunk that night,
pull the bottle away from my hands,
and tell me you’ve got a better option.

When I cry,
hold me close,
and whisper words of comfort in my ears,
or I may slip away and leave.

When I cry,
Tell me fairytales,
and narrate them as if they were real.
They are fantastical,
But make me believe they aren’t,
and that magic truly exists.

When I cry,
and I tell you not to take me home,
take me someplace safe,
wrap me up in a blanket,
and then you may go.

When I cry,
Don’t stay, because
my drunk self appreciates you,
I won’t.

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Over the Threshold

You had me cover my eyes as we crossed
the threshold to your home,
Oh, I always forget that it’s now ‘our’ home.
It never felt like mine, you know? It rather
felt as if I was on a display, there for every
one to see, and my vision snatched away
from me by a cloth around my eyes.
I never knew what it was to be impaired,
growing up despising control. I
couldn’t live like that, you know?
Bound by chains so strong they couldn’t
be visible to the naked eye. But, they were
there. Unseen,
but there. On display for everyone to see.
I struggled to get rid of them.
Those cuffs around my wrists were
suffocating, chafing skin and veins,
binding me to you even more.
Tried hard to make people realise how I was living in a cage.
I was a bird with my wings cut off;
The people around me were blind, and
maybe even dumb and deaf, because
none of them ever raised their voices for me, the noise of gossip was decibels much higher than my pleas.
My scars were visible, even the band aid couldn’t fix them.
Permanence was temporary, just like the
marks around my eyes and the scars
covering my wrists, beneath,
there was me,
freed.

●●●●●●

My very first collaboration with Saloni Mhapsekar.

Art by: Saloni Mhapsekar. (Check her out on Instagram, @saloniquietlybrilliant )

 

Series of unfortunately fun events. 

1st may, 2016.

We went to equal streets, a group of 8 people. We left from there in half an hour, and debated for another half on where to have lunch, because it was supposed to be a day out for us.

We go to antiSOCIAL by auto, a horrible decision of the many taken today.

We then decided to lunch at Prithvi Cafe, which was 6 km away, so we got in another round of autos, three autos for 8 people.

The problem here, it was only 10:15 am, so they weren’t ready to serve lunch as yet.

We then decided to head over to juhu beach, which was a 2 minute walk from where we were.

We went to juhu and being so smart, we went inside the water, wearing jeans and shoes, totally non beach attire. So when we came back, we bought 5 bottles of water, and some more to wash our hands and feet and the jeans that had been covered in sand.

Then we headed back to the cafe, and ordered LOADS of food. Enough to feed an army.

 

At the end, we asked for the bill. I won’t tell you the amount, but we LITERALLY EMPTIED OUR POCKETS, even one and two rupee coins. We were still short of 13 rupees.

 

The manager, being an angel, waved it off but we still felt guilty as hell ALSO we now were totally BROKE!!! How to go home??

Then, we got some free wifi GOD BLESS YOU WIFI OWNER! and then we ordered Uber and got home and then paid up the fare.

 

Story over I now have boils from soaked feet all over my feet and I’m still covered in sand and tired as fuck.

 

 

Denied

“What you were, is not a sign of who you should be.” She said, as she kissed the nose that had turned red due to the cold. Stroking the hair that stuck to the forehead with sweat, she held her breath, staring at closed eyelids, imagining the blue-green irises that lay underneath, unmoving, releasing it only when she had found the perfect words on her lips. “You mistook me for a lover. I was anything but one. I could not love you, or the likes of you. Betrayer, you call me. Helper, I respond. Helped you through your wounds, wounds that ignited pain deep within you when you were left alone. Alone, to rust and rot. Alone to die, wither like the leaves that had fallen off their trees, smeared with the brown of the earth like the blood on your torso, your arms that were cold and heavy with the scars of the ropes that cut into your flesh, and the blood that clotted on those, as it gave way to the festering and healing. I was your healer. And you have healed. I must take my leave.”

Rising, she disappeared amidst the smell of smoked candles and bloodied roses, as both crept up crawling up the air and mixed with the stench of love that lingered long after it was denied.

Metamorphosis

Change is inevitable, yes.
But is it not untold that when
a caterpillar finally grows itself
into a butterfly, it completely
leaves everything behind. And
if I dare say, you have not broken
those ties, those rules that break
us apart.

When you recast yourself
from the person you were before,
to what you are now, those side-swept
bangs, banged you up like a rocket leaves
the Earth, out in a matter of seconds.

Our relationship has changed, from
a love-struck boy that I was, stealing
glances at you, at every chance  I got,
I dare say, I look at you openly now. I
stare in your deep black eyes, so much
like the black hole, pulling me closer
and closer as seconds pass by and I try.
I try so hard to stay afloat in the sea of
rubble that we created and broken promises
and cut-up wrists and goodbye hugs, with
mementos and memories.

Re-orientation has had made you better,
but not the better that was moulded to my
imperfection. We are irreconcilable. So
clashing, so… confusing.

Now here we are, incongruous to each other,
grousing to our friends when we turn our backs.
Poles apart, literally, may be, I contemplate,
what would my life be, if I did not be a cocoon
to you, as a caterpillar, throwing me into masses
in words and phrases?

appreciation

I tried to change myself
for you, hoping that one day you might
notice me and accept me into your clan. I tried so hard
to fit in your group of judgemental cronies
that I forgot how you had judged me the
first time I had walked up to you.

I  forgot to keep a part of myself hidden, one
that had been embedded itself into my soul was
exchanged for a part of yourself.

So starry eyed I was by you that I overrode those
little emotions that made bile rise up
in my throat when you asked me for money only
because my parents were rich and you were
too lazy to get them from your own purse.

I tried to look for validation in your eyes,
appreciation for my efforts,
I ignored the fact that you used me
and made fun of me when I turned around.

For when I did, you had these little snickers
that you made sure I’d hear.
But hey! Look, your validation
was so appealing and so mesmerizing to me
that I chose to forget what you’d done and made me do,
only to be accepted and appreciated and validated.

Letter to an inspiration

Hi, hello, namaste.

It’s been three months (and a bit more) since Talk-a-Thon, and last night, I realized that I didn’t really thank you enough for being there, coming for the event and be there for the Talk Show, it was my dream to have you and Shamir there. I couldn’t really talk at that time, mostly because I was feeling all jittery to have two people, whom I respect so much, there in front of me, talking to everyone and making them comfortable, especially after I’d told everyone what an amazing person you are. Everyone was, may I say, shocked, but your humbleness, and that too coming from a person who has achieved so much in life, and inspired so many people on the way.

Harnidh, you are an inspiration, one that forces people to get up and about, to pull up their socks, and work for their goals, and strive towards perfection. Be it the way you carry yourself, or the way you respond to questions, love, hate, and still are so down to earth. I actually remember asking you if I could hug you and you laughed and hugged me, it was one of the nicest feelings ever, like I’d been holding a mini Oscar.

Today, on Women’s Day, I cannot really thank you for existing, for being an ask.fm user (verified hein), or just simply being there. Reading your answers, your blog, whenever I am feeling that I should just quit writing because I don’t really get the output of the input I put in. But then  I read your poetry, try to grasp the way you have written in, so beautiful, and I try to inculcate that into my own writings, I can be proud of calling you a role model for me. You are so beautiful, and that million dollar smile you wear, it’s something I can really look at all day, and smile.

I wish you all the very best for your book, and perhaps, sometime in the future, I could have one of mine on the way too. Hehe, stay awesome, and just, don’t ever change.

Thank you, Harnidh, for being what you are. x