A collection of untouched memories and unwritten time,A tide to wash away stains from the past,
Some arrivals cease the darkness they say
Just like arrival of dawn through the grey of night
But take me to places, other than these
you always knew you’d do better than this, din’t you? anyway, rise up, a year has passed to the events you still keep thinking about
come on, there is nothing wrong with trying on those pairs of new sandals, they are never gonna stay new and tagged after this moment
walk in them, apply a lipstick, adore your image in the mirror and live up
or may be just go back to your old boring desk and start typing again
Because it was summer once
And the air was full of mosquitoes
We shut our windows.
Because it was winter once
And there was fog in the air
We shut them again.
We kept shutting our windows
Every summer and every winter
Until we forgot the memory of open windows.
We forgot that there were spring and autumn in between.
We forgot to look at the sky and breathe the air scent
We forgot to look at the creeks on the walls of our neighbours (and our neighbours)
And the marks that seeping rain had left behind
In the form of mud lines on a wall.
We forgot to look out of our windows and our rooms because we had shut them
Through summer, and through winter.
And we forgot to listen to the clatter of the construction around,
A school bus making its way through lanes of life,
A wife smiling at her husband as she wave him goodbye,
A mother looking lovingly at her children as they leave for school,
An elderly woman watering her plants,
We forgot to look at night, changing into mornings
A days sky changing its color,
As it travels from sunny to cloudy and back to sunny,
We forgot to look at the shadows of the houses on the walls on moonlit nights,
Or shadows fighting for their place on otherwise dark nights.
We stopped watching out of windows,
And catching glimpses of birds flying or sudden gushes if air blewing leaves or those first drops of rain on the surface.
We missed all the sounds and sights
And we forgot that we were missing them anyway.
We keep our windows shut.
I was born a rebellion
When I was a child I would never buy pink dolls but superheroes// I was the stubborn child of the family
And If I wanted something
They knew there was no way out of it but get it for me
I was very determinant
Learnt that no one comes in my way of determination
This is not my story
As much as I wanted it to be
It is not
And there is nothing much I can do about it
My story is:
I was very intimidated child
Always in fear of male figures
Always dominated by the powerful and the boys in the family
Slowly and gradually
I learnt to weep on my sufferings
To keep myself quiet
And I don’t know when that happened
I grew up to be someone
With thousands of dreams in my head
Sitting in a corner of the house
Dreaming these dreams all day
But I couldn’t face people, with those dreams on my mind
And tell them this is what I wanted
And this is what I like to be
And I got compromised
On my education
My ideas and my dreams
I suffered in the region of that compromise
Dying every night
Climbing back to life every morning
Clenching my fists and my soul as I survived it
After living in the suffering for a longer period, one day
I can’t let my life pass like that
It needs to be changed
And so I spoke
Muttering at first
Wobbling words out of my mouth
Often producing unclear words and nasal sounds
Words started making sense
I still couldn’t raise my voice
But I was speaking
I could already feel the change
Each time I spoke
Against the wrong
So you see
Not all of us are lucky enough to be a born rebel
A born genius
A born professional
A born behaved
And just like you learn all these things, you learn rebellion
And as much as we can complain about that story not being ours
We cannot change that
But we can change our life stories
We can learn rebellion against all that goes wrong
We can learn rebellion against depression and self doubt
We can learn rebellion against all labels that society puts in our way of individuality …. Against all wrongs against us
….. Against keeping quiet
….. Against the story we are born with
We can learn rebellion
We can change our story.
I heard those unheard stories
I saw on those faces
Toils of their life
Full of hardships
All put aside as if they never existed
Their questioning eyes
Asking aloud all the questions which were prohibited on their tongues
Enough of the rhetoric
Enough of the sacrificed lives
Enough of shattered dreams and souls
All in the name of honour
How many more daughters and sisters and wives do you need?
To fill those graves of honour
Emasculated identities and faces
Creases of face skin
Their numb bodies
And dashed down minds
Sighing out loud
Isn’t the number enough
In the name of honour?
Where would the unattended feelings go?
Would they be eased out in the cracking of knuckles or the shift of postures?
Would they be smoked out or consumed in the cups of coffee?
Would they be ignored in the aimless walks in the park or a drive through the city?
Would they be kept aside while talking to a stranger coming close or a closer one going strange?
Would they be watched out in movies or read in books or gazed out at ceilings and walls?
But the question remains, at the end of it all… Where would the unattended feelings go?