The Mornings Have Been Lazy Lately,

I woke up to bad news today,

I slept with my head spinning, when the world and my cozy little cocoon, both shattered.

I saw the disclaimer on the Instagram story.

Yet, I choose to watch it.

I twisted and turned in my bed, my last alarm rang. I had to leave or I'd be late for work.

I drag myself to the shower, the drops of water started dripping, my shoulder getting drenched. Drop by drop. Like people falling off an airplane

I came out, wore my cutest shirt, a gift from a rather someone. My eyes went moist. I picked up my hairbrush, hoping to brush more than my hair.

I packed my lunch box, made a face when there was upma for breakfast, ate cold cornflakes watching something funny on Netflix.

I rush to office, take my laptop out. The charger that'll sustain the day. My red thermal coffee flask with the black coffee for the day, the blue book and a pen I borrowed from someone.

I sit down, let out a sigh, and switched on my laptop to an array of emails to reply to.

Why are people working beyond work hours I wondered, maybe I should too, I thought for a second.

The sticky notes on my laptop reminded me of my two other jobs, with broken earphones, the day drifted without music to shush my thoughts. Someone passes the hallway wearing the same perfume that a boy I knew wears. Shattered promises, lucid dreams fake smiles and bike rides all rushed to my head.

In a rather larger, emptier office I started communicating to innamimate things and cleared the notifications of burning forests, dying animals and women in veils.

I haven't been able to eat. I haven't been able to sleep. My head questioning everything everyone did.

While I've come back to my rather comfortable room, cold milk, gazal songs and some cigarettes I move time to another day for some better food and strong coffee.

My phone beeps, i slide the notification and lie down on an empty terrace with sounds of traffic, a dog barking on the corner of the street and a thousand thoughts.

The peaceful Old Lady

There is this temple opposite to the house I stay, I do not know which deity, but I know it’s a Hindu temple. 

Every evening someone comes and cleans the whole temple, lights a lamp and keeps the gates open. I do not know who does that. From that time everyone who passes by pause their walk and take a peep in, some just peep, pray from the outside and leave, while others just ignore the existence. 

But then, there are these people who stop, take a peep, pause, and then decide to go in, they walk in, wash their hands and feet at the tap outside, and then pray. Some leave after the prayer is done, while others sit there for some time, I wonder what they think of, maybe about everything that’s going on in the world or maybe about something that’s happening inside their house. I wonder. 

Today, I decided to take a look inside the temple myself, I am not a devotee, not religious either, I am just curious. I went inside, looked at the statue of the God, roamed around and decided to sit there for a while. I liked the positivity of the place. It was nice, the vibe and the aura the place holds is nice. That’s the only thing I like about places of worship. 

One woman comes in, does the rituals in the right forms, and comes and sits next to me. We exchange a smile and neither of us speak. After a few minutes, she asks me where I am from as she has never seen me in that neighbourhood., I tell her that I am visiting a friend here and that this is not my place. Out of curiosity, I ask her where her house is. She gives a smile, a smile I can never describe, and then says, “I don’t have a house, I stay here until they close this temple and wander off to the next one.” I did not know how to respond and regretted asking her the question.

It then strikes me that I can find her a place to stay, I ask her if I could call some people who can come and fetch her, an old age home, maybe. She thanks for the offer, but then said that there is a peace in the way she lives. I try to convince her rather lure her with all the things she can have, a safe place to sleep, food, shelter, better facilities and everything that comes to my mind. Nothing helps. She thanked me again, and I asked her why, she said there is nothing she has to gain or lose, she has a family who are happy without her, she said she was happily married. No one abandoned her, she chose this, if there wasn’t quarantine she generally helps in one of the big temples.

She told me that she was not a devotee, rather liked doing what she does. She got up to leave, I asked her where she was headed to, she said there was a temple in the street nearby, and felt like going there. I waved goodbye and saw her leave. Her small figure faded as she walked slowly yet with so much peace. 

I hope I meet her again.

It has been 4 days since I met her, and she has not returned, sometimes I wonder if I intruded a bit too much and maybe that’s why she is not returning. Maybe this temple is too small, and she found a better one. Whatever it is, I wait every evening, sipping my coffee, hoping she would return among the peepers and passer-by's I see every day. The peaceful old lady has not yet returned, and I wait…

true

I don’t want to write about romantic love anymore. I’m not bitter or anything, kinda remorseful in a sense because I have my fair share of heartaches and heavy feelings with guys who aren’t willing to reciprocate what I can offer. But love is so overrated nowadays, it’s like everyone treats romantic love like an oxygen for a dying soul. They treat it as an antidepressant for their lonely mindsets and empty hearts. How about unconditional love from people who cares for us the most? Isn’t it considered a form of love? We all desire for a romantic partner whom we can spend our Friday nights and Saturday morning with. We want to receive sweet morning phone calls and text me when you get home kind of love. We want long car drives with someone while listening to our favorite songs. We want someone to watch our corny horror movies with and watch the stars in night afterwards. We are blinded by the fact that if we don’t get to experience those, we will never be truly happy. But how about the feeling of doing something we really love like reading a favorite novel on a long bus ride and the feeling of the first sip of coffee in the morning? The feeling we get when we see the smile of our parents after receiving good news. The feeling of hugging a sister after few months of not seeing each other. Some moments are being taken for granted while we are so busy wishing for someone who can’t even paint a smile in our faces.

It all happens, but he doesnt know...

I see you everyday, when you come in the same train. Sit right opposite me everyday. And you dont even notice me. I work in your same building one floor down but never have you noticed me. I sip coffee everyday sitting far away noticing your charm and wondering will it ever happen. But not once have you known my existence.

I reached home late, and there you were making dinner for us. After I had freshened up we both sat down in the balcony table and had the wonderful dinner under the moon light. I was lost in your arms and spellbound by your gaze. Your one touch makes me go numb, your one kiss melted me completely.

I wake up to find out its all a dream. A dream I wait to see everynight. An universe opposite to reality I had made up.

I see you again in the train and in the coffee shop waiting to go and sleep so I can fall in your arms and feel your love in the parallel universe I have made for myself. The romance there never dilutes, never vanishes. I love you. And will always do...

To think of it,

I feel I've never been this lonely before.

I've never felt this away from home before.

Maybe it's because I live with another human

Who has a functional family and friends he can go to.

Maybe because I see him making plans, missing people and being there for family.

Maybe because I see them hold him tight.

I've never felt the darkness like this before.

The way the light is shining so far, that when I look the other side.

I see laughter, joy and kinship.

I'm not jealous. I'm not envious. I'm just sad I'm not there holding their hands.

I feel the wind that once blew on my face,

The warmth of the ocean and the joy in those hugs.

I feel the distance from the shore, to the sea and the seamen.

I look at the people beside me. I'm eternally grateful, but I miss those that were once mine.

I've never felt this lonely before.

I've never felt this away from home before.

To find that they were better off

Behind those locked doors.

Being lovers or strangers, either way being them

And not exposed and vulnerable

223. Incognito

Behind closed doors, they were lovers.

Faith.

Why am I so attached to strangers and detached from people who are mine? A question that has been haunting me for a while now. I have opened up so much to a completely stranger giving him the key to all my secrets making myself vulnerable.

Yes, my social network friend. We became friends a little while ago and now I have become quite close to him. Inseprable.

But having told him all my secrets I feel vulnerable. I feel weak. I do not know how to overcome this fear.

Having been stabbed in the back by people I have trusted, now I feel telling unknown people is much more safer than telling the known one.

I hope you wont stab me like all the others did. You wont leave my hand when I hold on to with all the trust I have. The faith; if shattered again then I would never be able to gain it back nor will I trust anyone ever again be it known or unknown.

Hot summer days are the worst time to go on a drive, but I still decided to go on one. I thought maybe the AC in my car and the sunny sky would be a better change in comparison to my cramped room with humidity hitting the roof.

It was one of those days where I was eagerly waiting for the summer rains to drench the soil and let out a cool breeze.

As I keep driving, without a destination, nor a map to guide me through, taking turns as my brain tells me to and my heart wants me to.

I stop at an empty road, waiting for the 30 seconds on the signal to pass so I could head to the place I didn't know of.

That's when it came, the thunder, the lightening, the wind the breeze the dark afternoon and the darker clouds.

The radio tells me it's some cyclone, my heart tells me it's the first of summer rains.

I pause, I don't move an inch. The clouds starts pouring, the heavy water droplets on my car roof hits my ears, I scroll the window pane, and let the rain drops fall in.

My face now wet, my head filled with a hundred thoughts, I make a U-turn and head home.

I play loud music to shun the voices in my head. I stop at a tea shop, ask for a strong filter coffee and lit a cigarette, the radio yet again tells me of casualities due to the cyclone and my head tells me it's just the summer rains.

Image from @a-small-startup

The mirror

Tiny little toes, 10 little fingers and she learns to stand.

With that chubby cheek and the diaper, it was more like a duck racing around.

She starts running because, she might fall anytime now, and wants to cover as much as possible.

She turns around and finds this beautiful little kid staring back at her,

Looks up and finds her mother staring at her,

She rushes to hug her mother, but her nose hits the solid screen

The mirror.

She doesn’t realize then, that at one point in life she’ll hate looking into that

The mirror.

High school was supposed to be fun

Crushes and girl gangs were the things shown on those romcoms

She hates those movies now.

While she developed early, her breasts were her biggest enemies

The girls in her class started calling her names, and

She felt guys only liked her for that

Every day she looked into that opaque thing and hated every inch

The extra skin, being fat, and those stretch marks

She hated them all

The Mirror

Being a young lady

She covered every inch she hated with layers and layers of cloths

While her mother told her that she should lose some weight and not eat more

Her grandmother constantly reminded her she would never find someone

Then came the era of being woke

Where you were pretty DESPITE being fat

She looked away from mirrors

The pores on her face, the short hair, and the dry lips

Nothing seemed pretty DESPITE being fat and dark.

The mirror only mouthed what she told

She was never nice to herself

Today, she wakes up, wears the same white shirt that she wears for meetings

Looks up at that mirror and looks into those eyes

Those eyes had known that fair and lovely was not what she seeked

She did not have to feel pretty despite fat and dusky

She was pretty with those curves and dark skin

She wears the khol on her eyes, slides into the shorts

Tucks that strand of hair

And lets out a smile to herself

And to all those years of hatred

She saw those little toes and 10 fingers

And smiled

The mirror.

Image from Razia @a-small-startup

I'm literally shivering of the cold breeze here but it's also making me feel better for some reason from all the ache in my heart and the confusion in my head