The Window

Home?

Everytime I go Palakkad (my native in Kerala) I have always felt butterflies in my stomach. I get goosebumps travelling there. Well thats the place I have spent the major part of my life in. Thats the place where I grew up, made friends and had fun. But that isnt my home. No it isnt. I know every nook and corner of the town. I know which way to go to and I pretty much know my destinations. I have a part of my family there but it has never been my home. Well where is my home I seriously do not know. Everytime I go there on my vaccations I feel wonderful. A feeling of content strikes me just by the sight of the station. The journey in the autorikshaw from the station to my home brings in an adrenaline rush that I am reaching somewhere I belong. This sunday I am going home. I am more than happy, I am eager, I am excited and anticipating the day to arrive as soon as possible. But then out of no where the question pops whether that I really belong there. Where that is my real home. Whether that is it or my destination named home is far far away and I am yet to find. I do not know and so does the question of home remain unanswered.

I do... do I... ??

Yesterday I went shopping with my granny and aunt. For a change, I was wearing a sari. a black sari with bronze border. I was looking pretty good.

The idea of going with them was not a good one. I was damn bored. I was gazing around the shop looking at things that I would never buy. What else to do...

I was standing there looing at some dress, when an old lady came next to me and asked "Your sari is amazing. Where did you buy that from dear?"

"Its from Kerala aunty"

(I am now in Chennai. TN)

"Oh! its beautiful. I was shopping for my granddaughter and she loves black. she is almost your age and looks like you too. could you please help me select one for her. My taste you see is quite old"

"sure aunty"

I was happy that she asked for my help. Now at least I will be looking around with some purpose. Now, there is certainly one thing about old people. they are damn inquisitive... In no time they pull out every detail about you. So was this lady, she was asking me all sorts of questions, I did not want to be rude so I answered with patience and moreover she was very sweet.

After a while I picked out a black sari with pink and green border. It was a beauty. she seemed satisfied too... as I was helping her with a billing she insisted on getting me something too. now that's too much. I politely declined. She finally gave up and suddenly out of nowhere a guy called her.

"Where were you? I was looking all around the place for you"

"You were bored weren't you. This young girl helped me pick a sari for your sister"

"Thank you so much. I'm Ram"

"Hey. I'm Razia"

A tall handsome young guy. A beard, tall, husky voice. Just amazing. I never used to believe in love at first sight. "Bullshit" was my synonym for it. But yesterday when I saw him I got butterflies in my stomach. I just couldn't take my eyes off him.

But that's it. I get that feeling for the first time and that too towards a person I will never meet again. 

God wasn't that cruel too. that aunty was so happy with me helping her that she too out a small piece of paper, wrote her name, address and her grandson's no. she told me to call him if I get any confusions with the address as I am new in town.

I have that paper right in front of me. I do lie him. but do I? I can call him should I? questions unanswered I sit her perplexed. I don't now. maybe as I always say, there isn't love at first sight, it always a crush and he would also pile up in my little list of crushes.  

Reminder Alert, There is a small change, the venue is now zoom call...

Hello there… edition 2 of online open mic is coming up, give me a message to get the link. Date : 7.06.2020

Time : 07:00 pm IST (GMT + 5.30)

Venue : Google Meet

All story tellers and poets are welcome, the language is English, if not performing, you are welcome to be a spectator…

...

I have that one person in life to whom I can be me and still be confident that he wont judge.

Well thats what I believe everytime I meet that person.

That one person changes with time.

Sometimes it's you

And yet other times its him or her or her

Everytime I end up talking hours together

Not leaving the smallest detail of what happened in the day

I fear that he would get bored

That he would not feel anymore.

Today I could sence that he was getting tired of me being excited of the same thing again and again

Maybe I should stop because

Maybe I get too excited about petty things

But I thought he would understand that it means the world to me.

I never thought I would say this for him because till yesterday I had something else to tell.

Yet one more time people have proven that they cant be what they promise to be

And all those promises starts to flow with the rain leaving me all back to square 1.

Thinking what went wrong this time

I have met the demons in me

At first, they came as a resort to the discomfort

Now they seem to haunt me

day and night.

While I sit at my desk and start crying,

they seem to add fuel to the fire

I see them running around in my head,

stomping my feelings and fears

I see them running around in my house,

I see them sipping tea amidst the chaos they seem to have created

I see them everyday; I see them everywhere; I see them in me.

I see them breaking glass and walking on the shattered pieces

I meet the devil in me everyday

Dear April

Hey there April. I see people all around me asking you to be nice with us. I ask for the same. 

January jumped away with violence… fire in its tail burning down the forests

February fled with the aftermath

March was marching with a virus that we all sat home

I wonder what you bring, April. I wonder.

Life seems dull with solitude. Staying home figuring out ways to kill time. With so much time in hand, I thought I’d get back to all the pending work. But locking me in, doesn’t work. 

I miss the monotony in life.

So be nice to me and everyone else, April. Be nice.

I’m not asking for more but to return my happiness with being able to do things I used to cringe about, complain about, cry about, argue about, the things that I wanted to run away from.

Take me back to the people, talking and doing something.

Take me from this closed room, my laptop and me.

Hey April, try being nice.

Doors closed from behind that never tend to open..

The doors behind whom is the person with the keys

Those doors....

How I wish you had told me before that these doors would never open...

Rather you promised me keys to eternal you

Of all the fake promises and lost love....

I wish I had known you even better. Known you even far.

I wouldn't be standing here today not knowing which way to go. Whom to trust.

I wouldn't be here having lost all faith in life

And turned cynical towards all.

I wish I had known you before.

Before all of this could have happened..

- Razia

@argumentsfromwithin hope I did justice to your poem. And ya if anyone wants to take it further. Please do..

Open ended…

(Please finish my poem!)

There are days…

That turn into weeks…

These months that have become years…

How long have I been waiting for an answer…

A solution to the fears that keep me awake at night…

there’s an odd bit of advice you see that was offered to me…

A tid bit of knowledge used to express an emotion…

This feeling we’ve all been looking for…

An answer behind closed doors…

-c.S.

By: ArgumentsFromWithin

(Please write your own ending and share! I can’t wait to read them!)

Why is being strong so romaniticised.

Why is crying and talking and being yourself considered weak?

Why is letting go difficult

Why aren't we given time if it's difficult?

Why is being you so suffocating

Why can't you be you?

.

Why is romance so fragile

Why is it that you need someone?

Why can't you cling to pain

Why is ease so easy?

.

Why can't you whine

Why can't you complain?

And Why is that you can write only when you are in pain?

.

Why is your healing

Someone else's pain?

.

Why is your time not at their time stamp?

.

Why can't people know we're all at a different pace

In our journey towards ease.

.

Why is it difficult to see someone cry

And not just be.

.

Why do you want everyone to smile even beyond that pain.

.

Why can't you let the pessimism

Go away on its own

.

Why do you guilt someone over healing

Why do whine over someone else's pain.

.

Why can't you trust over time

To do the healing.

.

Why can't you love the pain and the sorrow

And embrace the person

.

You don't want change you want remedy

You don't want ease you want comfort

.

You don't want serenity you want pleasure

You guilt others over your guilt

.

You ease others over your ache

.

It will all be right

Just no more wrong infront of you.

.

Let's put up a brave face is it?

I dont want to...

You seldom start a journey with hopes of being somewhere, excitement of meeting someone and the thirst to be around your people.

So did I want to be in a place where no matter how crazy I become it would be fine.

Because I was going "home" where there were "my people"

Mistaken was I that it would not matter.

Because I just was an obligation they could not say no to.

The excitement was one sided and so were the hopes.

Even before reaching I want this journey to end

My destination never to come.

I want to go back and never return.

This was a bad idea but now I cant turn back.

I dont want this vaccation

I dont wanna go "home"

That girl I know

The solicited aspects of life turns on

Accepted mores of life goes on

But still there persists one constant thing

That isn't ready to go with change...

Change itself.

There are aspects she claims about herself

There are aspects she says she's not

But like everybody says

At the end of the day all she wants are eyes pleased

And people happy.

I haven't known her well

Even after knowing her for the past 21 or so years

She seems to be a confident, clear and sorted person

And the next fraction I see this trash of a person

She messes up everything just by over thinking

Everytime I tell her to shut up at unnecessary conversations.

Still she spills the words and poof! Goes everything

There are people who know the playful side of hers

And yet there are others who know her as rude and disrespectful

She throws up tantrums and sits up angry

And then there are people who now her as the quite and composed one....

I know her of not just flesh and bone

But rather deep inside

Of all these sides and more

Of all the broken relationships

Of all the complaints from childhood

Of all the fears from life....

I know her like no one else

But sometimes even I have a set back understanding what exactly she wants

Because she holds back from everything she needs

Having so much going on in her head

But still putting them all behind

And regretting of that one moment she takes for herself

Spending that one penny on her

Going that one extra mile.

I feel sorry for her if nothing else

Because of the heart that she holds

And the world she tries to put together

In the end she lands up letting go of herself for others