Invisible Paralysis

Once there was a boy who woke up one cold, rainy morning and decided to go for a jog. Now it was bad weather and his girlfriend mildly chided him for not wanting to stay in bed with her but he smiled lazily as he pulled on his boots. He'd make breakfast for her when he was back and she was fully awake.
He plugs in his earphones and starts his warm up. Shuffle. Play. Shuffle.Play. Skip.Loop.

Imagine Dragons- Not Today comes on. PERFECT.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JV6UrDhsWN4

And then a sudden screech and a flash and a dash of yellow and BAM.
He's down and out. He's been hit by a cab.

And he wakes up after two days but he can't understand why he can't feel his legs. They're there. he can see it, he can touch it.
 But he can't feel it.
He is paralysed, waist downwards.
Sometimes the old familiar feeling returns and he can almost walk- almost walk again. Almost. But not quite. Phantom Limbs.
Perhaps.

 Well, what do you say to him? You should have stayed home that morning? Who runs on rainy mornings? It will get better. Maybe. But how much?
And does that even matter?
How much should be enough before he is allowed euthanasia?
 Why is it not legal here?

Will he walk again? Perhaps. Will he run again? Difficult.
We must realise that there are certain things that once broken, don't work again the same way anymore.

Some people splinter their spine and can't feel their legs.
It is an accident but it's done.
You can blame anyone but it doesn't change anything.
Sometimes physio works and they recover.
And sometimes they don't.

It's not that they don't WANT to walk again.
Hell, they'd do anything to go back to how things used to be, but some experiences are watershed moments and you can't go back to how things were before.
They have instances when they feel their phantom limb
 but it isn't there.


It is the same for those who splinter their hearts.
Maybe even worse.
Because a heart still works, even if you can't feel it anymore.

If you didn't blame the boy for his paralysis.
Why do you blame me for mine?

The Light Is Always On the Inside

Her brown eyes

were fireflies 

in disguise.

Only lighting up after dark.

I stayed up all night to memorise their flame.

I can still see the white light

behind my eyes 

whenever I close them

.

The light is always on the inside.

But when I wake up to this

never ending December world-

I am met with

 endless violets printed on rough yellow paper 

lining my smoke-filled, four walled room

that suddenly seems endless

to my lovelorn heart.

What good is rain on an iron heart?

You thought it  would wash away the dust.

You thought flowers would bloom here.

But everything turned to rust.

#Untitled

I tried saving myself from his eyes but alas!
my heart became entangled in his brown-grey curls.
Oh Love, till when will you play with me?
I am standing before you, helpless.
I admit Defeat.

I press my palms to my ears
but still the accusations pour in.
Oh what have the people done?
Our love story remained fulfilled
only in the rumours of these gossip-mongers.

Unknown to others,
I spend my nights watering my pillow
with the memory of your tears.
Maybe I was wrong
when I turned you away.

Countless lovers fall for my smile
but none want to see the
scars in my eyes.
A wound is only recognised if it bleeds.
People peel off my scabs with their harsh words.

I laugh and turn away from the world.
On nights like these, I laugh at them
and myself and you.
If direct words could soothe heartbreak,
'Ghazals' would become obsolete.

Under the full moon, the night street is filled with cries,
Is it a poet or a lover or a madman?
A voice whispers back,
'What is the difference?'

Black Noise on the Street

 Lets lacerate blue
 butterfly wings
and  cloudy clumsy dandelion things,
pulling that fingernail off
and letting it bleed.

The sound of defeat
Black noise on the street.

 Somebody broke in too deep
 and now you can't fall asleep no more.

You should have held your peace
when the priest said,
 'If anybody has any objections,speak now...'

How long,
 how long does it last this way?
How many times,
how many times, will he never stay?

Broken hearts have paper locks on them,
to secure wayward pieces together.

Black noise on the street
The sound of defeat.

When you grieve
for a nobody,
the shadow in your eyes
are always a little darker.

Everybody gets them roses.
But yours died on the way here
You don't deserve them, anyway.

How long,
 how long does it last this way?
How many times,
how many times, will he never stay?

The sound of defeat
Black noise on the street...



And this song is on loop.
Go Figure.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YIkXPs4SbYo

Taste your salted ego.

You have been asleep so long, my love.

Slumbering restlessly in silence.

Letting the dust of everyday existence 

collect in the hollow of your bones,

nestle in the spaces between your rib cage,

dull the waters in your eyes.

It is time to arise and shake it off now.

To feel the throb of  a firefly's heartbeat 

beneath your eyelids.

It is time to accept your hurts and your disappointments

and wear them like you wear your tattoos- with elan and pride.

It is time to taste your salted ego.

To fix the broken blue clock that remained stuck at the thankless minute.

To burn your effigies of Miss Havisham and Meera.

To taste the freedom in the tendrils of smoke you blow off your celibate cigarette.

It is time.

'There is a storm coming.'

Seasons in her eyes

All I wanted was for her to not be empty anymore,
So I fed her with an orange sunset of dying love.
But it was not enough.
Helplessly, I watched as the seasons changed in her eyes and Monsoon burst in full swing.
I could do nothing but float tiny, blue paperboats of 'Maybes' doomed to drown in her black rain.

Wasted Moments like Spilt Honey

Days like these remind me that my tiny room is an eye of the storm. I lie down on my red and blue chequered mattress and bide my time.
The moments drop down slowly like spilt honey, their sweetness intensified by an acute sense of loss and waste.
Never again will I have this moment.
 Never again will I be this young.
 Never again will my heart be as strong and my mind me as bright.
 But what does it matter?
My toe crosses the imaginary line of my sheltered nook and lo and behold! There is restlessness and mistrust and delusion that this is important.
Anything matters.
I will make a difference.
I will succeed.
Success.
Such a pitiable word.
People keep trying to make it big in life. Have a successful job, marriage, social circle. I would like to think I am successful today. I have not a heart that belongs to me. Neither do I have an intense desire to belong to anyone.
I look out of the grimy glass vent at unassuming pigeons mating with abandon. This moment is forever. 

Little Life Hacks- A Diary Extract

Road to Delhi from Manali
6:5 p.m.
July 2nd, 2016
(Extract from Diary)

Last Day

Sometimes you don't need an eternity or a forever to be happy.
What he kept telling me- live in the moment-seize the day-
But 'cest la vie'.
Sometimes bravery is not in doing great things- it is in doing the little thing- the mundane, tiny things without losing hope or motivation. Every day. Without being swallowed by the tide of routine.
A simple act of determination to be happy- no matter what- to go on- to never give up.

Throwback to 2009.
" It is so easy to be sad. To dwell on the negatives. But Happiness... that takes courage."

To make sure that you wake up, dress us, show up- every day. To not drink your coffee too black or smudge off the red lipstick with the back of your hand when you look in the mirror and can't remember how to smile. To not forget that the highest walls might have scalable windows.
I have been taught this by unexpected people.
Tiny little life hacks.
It is so true, you find people in the strangest of places.
And love,
maybe in the strangest of places.
Like yourself,

Last day of Summer-2016

I sit up on the mattress and
crack my neck slowly.
First one side and
then another,
Next come the sullen knuckles
and with the 'pop',
a smile.
It is the last day of Summer
but still the feeling of Summer lingers on-
May with all it's parched- to -the- bone nights
and sudden, silly romance.
June brought new heartbreak and
feet spiced with wanderlust,
counting shooting stars with new friends,
July and the rains breaking over me like
they knew I was waiting for it-
 a day's delay and it would have been too late.
Discovering new horizons-
immersing in petrichor
and dreaming of brilliant blue peacocks
on Monday mornings.
It has been eventful, the last few months.
I milk each day for a feeling or an image and
store it away,
behind the broken bits of forgotten kisses
and stolen glances.
I gather all my memories
and compress it in a blood-seed.
Maybe someday it will sprout the
essence of Summer-
Happiness, Life and Hope
when I need it the most.

Spring 2016

How easy for them to say
Unbreak yourself today;
 because it is Spring
and everyone is happy.

You must be too.

Because the birds are flying in the sky
and the air is warm and wet
and the flowers-
they roll on by
as far as the eye can see.

But I feel my soul is splintered.
And my body remained broken and never healed
 the last time that they stamped my heart into the ground
with unforgiving, heavy feet.

And it's been too long

This...
Wave.

Up and Down.
Crest and Trough.
Happiness and Sadness.
Sanity and Madness.

It goes on and on and on and on and on and on ...

January Nights

Cut yourself slowly on starry tips in a night sky.

Rub stardust roughly on your scars.

Make them beautiful.

 Seaweed entangled in dark hair 

drowning in the dark waters of his eyes

that shine through your past erroneous ways.

Sometimes you can't see past the smoke of your dreams turning to ashes-

and the fateful spark that lit it up remains forgotten.

Halogen lamps blind you on empty highways

as you speed past the place where he fell in love with her faithfully.

Fateful lines on your hand criss-cross into future  somehows and maybes-

just waiting to happen.

Snaking past reason and logic-

inept words for a Saturday.

What is to be -will.

And Love is the four letter word tonight-

but then again, wasn't it always?