Remember me

When I am gone and You wonder what to do next,
Don't fight yourself and listen to me,

Initially it would be strange to sleep alone
And you might be scared at night,
Worrying if I turned into a ghost,
Which I assure you, I won't .

But there would be those nights with troubled sleep,
And the memories of happy times will haunt your heart,
In those critical time, I want you to remember
I am looking at you from heaven,
Maybe from hell as well !
But I am looking at you, that will matter.

So, here is the guide to remember me curated for you especially,
Remember me as you remember the aftertaste of sweet lassi you drank at your grandmother's place in summer break,
Just like the melody of your favourite song you hum without realising that you are humming,
Just like the book, you pick as a comfort read and the place you drive to when you are upset.

Some days when you will miss me the most,
Buy a truffle cake and leave it on my grave.
I won't be able to eat but the sight is enough for me to cheer up.
Since you know what to do when I am gone
I hope you keep your words and smile more.

Spiral

It seems to me that a sickness has gripped me. I have become part of a spiral where thoughts come and then bead by bead the spiral keeps on increasing , layer by layer to a point from where I fail to find the beginning. 

My brain has stopped taking this, the pressure, the pain, the suffering I go through in each moment when I should be resting and I have become reckless with my memories.

Memories of yesterday,today and coming tomorrow . Why?
You ask me why?

Because it's unbearable to be in the limelight and pretend to be alright. Not being able to scream out, show your joy, sorrow, anger,hurt and pain.

Fear grips the heart yet the smile doesn't flicker.
Do you know how that happen?

Practice . Practice. Practice.

But it's enough. I am exhausted and I sincerely hope for the earth to stop moving and my ethics to stop talking .

Fever

Thermometer flashed 103, looks like
The fever has reached the core.
The body shivers,mind enveloped with the question why?
Yesterday, you danced like there was no tomorrow until you realised there aren't going to be any more tomorrows with him.

Today,
Grief has made her sick.

Sadness lingering in her mind has finally found a way to reach her bones.

It's strange the doctor said, grief could make you lose your strength.

Get well soon her agony said, mocking her with a big smirk.



Silence

I am dragged to one secluded corner of the room by an unknown woman,
I don't think I know her,
She looks like my mother but is too brave to act like her.

Well, the story continues...

While she dragged me, I had a vision
In which the abuses he hurled at me in the past were visible,
The most recent one being called a bitch.
A child born of your blood is called "bitch", Well that's unfortunate I thought and stopped the train as in haste.

What do you say, my dear reader, was I right?

No, I don't mind being called one,
Should I let the opinion of one man leave an ugly impression on my mind?
Sometimes I think I should let all the abuses be absorbed,
Some day I am a little braver,
And pity him for his words.

To be frank, I find the later section more courageous, full of valour
So, I tend to hear from an ear and take it out from another.

But the woman today made me stand in a corner,
Went back into the room
Asked him if I deserved the words he spoke to me?

I apologise but it doesn't make any sense,
Why is she talking about me?
Doesn't she know I have learnt to live without being affected?
Yet I heard her
And remembered someone telling me It's alright sometimes
When someone decides to stand for you.

PROMISE ME

Illustration by Cecelia Castelli

Promise me that you won’t let yourself stoop down anymore,
Promise me that you won’t run away this time like other times,
Promise me that you won’t hide yourself from the sunshine,
Promise me that you will stay here and face those delinquent beasts of your nightmares,

Promise me you will let yourself feel
Not just the misery, pain or fear but care, kindness and forgiveness.

Promise me that it’s the last time you have picked the shards of the glass and pierced your skin like making a piece of an art!
Except that it isn’t art but hurt.

Art is You, your higher self, the esteem with which you hold yourself with.. You are created by the greatest creator, supreme artist,
You are precious.
More precious  than anything  in the universe.

So Love,
Now tell me..
why do you feel so weak?
What hurts you that you can’t speak?
What has stopped you from dreaming, desiring and describing yourself in a new definition?
Who do you think have power enough to stop you?

Why do you forget that nothing holds more power and passion than you already have in your heart?

Promise me that you won’t forget anymore.

Can you?