Infinite boulevard

I would be lying

I would be lying if I said no one had the least amount of idea of the pain I’m in. As lighting accompanies thunder, so is my life a flush of humour, mingled with the wutherings of my wrath.

When the alarm goes off at nine, I leave my bed with damp eyes that haven’t slept; My feet hang down from the edge of the bed as I wipe off the tears with my pastel blue blanket that have gone dry after flowing all night. I do it because I can’t look for my kerchief in a messy bed. I slide my feet into a pair of yellow flip-flops and walk towards the wash basin.

In my zombie like apocalyptic walk from the bedroom to the hall, I find Dad reading his morning news paper and munching on a crispy bread toast with brimming hot cup of coffee kept aside. He gives me a look that tells me I’m late again. Towards the kitchen as I move, Mom comes out hastily with two bread toasts held in her hand. She’s dressed and ready to leave for work.

Before she steps out of the door, she gives me a peck on my cheek and whispers in my ear, “I’ll bring you macarons on my way back home sweetie.” And to that I smile weakly, knowing what an amazing thing it is to wake up to your mother telling you that she’d bring you macarons on her way home.

Finally making it to the wash basin, I look into the mirror fixed above it that has turned greyish and dilapidated from the sides but does the job. My eyes look like they’ve been blown air into – puffy and moist. Gliding the toothbrush through the corners of my mouth, I contemplate on the problems of the world and how insignificant mine seem in front of them. With the world running in my mind I hear Dad yelling, “Spit it out, and sit to work. I can’t reheat the food again and again!”

Putting on my glasses, I peer into my laptop reading all the mails. As none of them have any useful content, I shift onto my books. They have nothing but peace to offer me for they know it’s hard to find these days. Flipping through the pages, my eyes cloud with tears, yet again, pining over the things that happened. It’s like, I no more have control over them; as if someone punctured my lacrimal glands and it ended up in continual weeping.

I don’t know what makes sense to me anymore. I wonder if it’s a good day to give up on life but the thought of what may happen after scares me to the core. If only death was so simple, you wouldn’t find me tomorrow. I hold my books firmly to my chest and think about the times when in monologues I spoke to them about my deepest scars. They are the ones to see it all and to put me back into pieces. The world holds me back for simple pleasures I get while reading.

As the sun turns dim with the passing hours, I head to my bed that feels like it is made from flowers; my only solace in the whole wide world. I stack my pillows and lay my head on them and it feels comforting as ever. I forget for a moment all the things that are wrong as sleep is the only right. Covering myself with my pastel blue blanket, I face the roof and watch the neon lights that hang. “It’s so pretty“, I say to myself and count the things that have pushed me forward to go on living.

I would be lying if I said no one had the least amount of idea of the pain I’m in. My pastel blue blanket and my books who do it so much better than the rest.

An open letter to the March sisters

There have a handful of adaptions of the Little Women by Louisa May Alcott, each one significantly upholding the women of the world and how capable they are. A simple story about sisters and their closely knit family, who go through tumultuous journeys of thier own.

However this one, let me connect with the characters that I had been overlooking for all these years. It taught me that Little Women isn’t only a story about Jo. It’s about family, about women, about existence and love. So here I am, trying my best hand at mending the way I misunderstood the story.

Dear Meg,
I apologize for thinking too little of you. Despite having a sister like Jo you never dreamt far. There was very little that you demanded of life – Three adorable sisters, Marmee and Father, a husband who loved you with all his heart and soul and two children who were so very dear to you.

All these years, I thought your life had the least bit of amusement, but I’m happy to say that I was wrong. So wrong. You taught a lot in a little – Small dreams matter as much as big ones do.

Dear Beth,
For someone so lovely, you left us way too soon. But you were a fighter. You fought, irrespective of whether you win or lose, and that’s what matters most. Such a brave heart as yours deserves a lot of appreciation that we thought you weren’t meant for.

People didn’t need to conquer the world in order to have courage. Sometimes a fragile and kind heart can do just the needful. The face you put on even though you were in so much pain, is something I have never seen. Today, I make you a promise : I will stop to listen to the Beths of the world more often.

Dear Amy,
Since the very first day, you seemed like the object of hatred to the audience for everything you did against Jo in your fist of anger could never be justified. You burned her manuscripts simply because you were angry. And with utmost truth, I too, was one of those people who looked down upon you for taking away what was hers. And most importantly you took away Jo’s only true friend -Laurie.

But today, I’m glad to be on the other side of the shore. I have been able to change the way I thought about you. Not only that, I know why you did what you did because that’s what most of us would do if we were angry. I’m sorry I expected you to act maturely when you were only a girl. How could I not see how beautifully you painted? You were an angel with a paint brush in her hand. And don’t worry, you are not second to anybody in the world. You are you and besides you’ve got Laurie who chose you. You are a wise, beautiful and a fearless young lady.

And saving the best for the last I write to my Dearest Jo,
Oh Jo! What I do say to you? There’s so much! And I’m afraid I will fall short of words and paper to portray my feelings. Yet, I want to say to you that you are what a woman should be. You are everything in the body of a beautiful human being – A daughter who sold her hair, she so dearly loved, for her mother, a sister who would do just about anything for the well being of her sisters, a friend who’s been there for her Teddy no matter what, a lover with immense passion and a writer that will be remembered for times immemorial.

In spite of making mistakes, you had the heart to make things right. If there’s any kind of feminist I wish to be, I would take your name Jo, for I know the world needs more women like you who acknowledge that love isn’t the only thing that a woman is made for, instead she deserves the world and can have it her way.

My dear little women,
Summarizing each of you in a few words is harder than I thought it’d be. I could go on writing pages about each of you and still go on writing. However, I am going to cut it short. All of you, the March sisters, have done the best you could. You led us to believe that our families are, after all, the the only thing we must hold onto till the ends of time. You loved life despite all the struggles it had to offer and even then, you made it out victorious.

For being loved is my only plea

It has been raining,
And this song came up on the radio.
I like the gentle beat, the subtle feel;
I wonder how the lyrics will go –

“Come up to meet you
Tell you I’m sorry
You don’t know how lovely you are
I had to find you
Tell you I need you
Tell you I set you apart”

Last month, I heard you work in Tokyo from a friend of mine –
‘Wasn’t he in New York, drinking water and wine?’
I didn’t have an answer to give to her, because I hadn’t.
You were here and you were there,
Like dust scattered in the air.
How is the sun in the land from which it rises?
Is it different from the one we see here?
Or is it a different shade of crimson red or some colour unknown?
Oh don’t worry! I ask for I wish to know,
Not because I intend to come.

“Nobody said it was easy
It’s such a shame for us to part
Nobody said it was easy
No one ever said it would be this hard
Oh, take me back to the start”

The weather reminds me how we used to curl up on the floor, beside the fireplace every time it rained.
We lay in warmth and in comfort, leaving the world running behind us.
In seconds, we would fall asleep in each other’s arms.
The blanket wrapped up beneath our entangled feet, we were snug as a bug in a rug;
Till it all fell apart,
Till we fell apart.
Ricocheting between the wish to stay a little longer,
And to leave a lot behind.
With you gone, I lost my sleep
In nights that were utterly dim.
‘Do you sleep well?’, I wish to ask-
With those blinding lights shining in the dusk?
Is Tokyo treating you right or do you want me to come over?
Lull you back to sleep, and wipe off the tears that seeped
Along the cheek full of freckles,
And the heart bound in shackles.
If only I’d known, that this parting would be so hard to bear,
I wouldn’t have let our hearts from each other tear.
If only I’d known, that sleep would leave me the very night you did,
I would have asked this favour from Cupid –

“Tell me you love me
Come back and haunt me
Oh, and I rush to the start
Running in circles, chasing out tails
Coming back as we are”

It’s never too late to mend,
For to love there is no end.
I kneel down and weep, with my mind gyrating in loops,
Wanting to know where I could begin,
Only to dash all my hopes.
If only had I not asked you to leave, I would be peacefully at sleep,
With my hands shoved inside your pockets, and your mouth breathing into me.
Our bodies brushing against each other’s,
For being loved is my only plea.
All I want is to rush back into your arms and forgive myself of the sins in the past.
Come as you may,
For I beg of you to stay.
In my heart that mourns alone, lost in a desert
With a sky full of stars that shone.

An open letter to Grace Town (Chemical Hearts, 2020)

Lili Reinhart as Grace Town in Chemical Hearts, 2020

“We’re just a collection of atoms that come together for a brief period of time, and we fall apart”

Dear Grace,

Despite all the hopeless expectations I had from the book and the movie, you managed to bust them all and steal our hearts away. To be very honest, I wasn’t quite blown away with the plot concerning a girl who transfers from her previous school with a dark secret and affects the lives of the ones she encounters on the way. It was just something that happens as often as the clouds in the sky turn dark and shed some rain. But it only started to gather the momentum when I found out that you love(d) to write. Just like how I do(did).

Shabby clothes, hair tied in a messy bun, oversized jacket and a pair of old boots. You were everything that a girl generally isn’t. And yet, you seemed like the most sensible option to Henry, who fell in love with you the very first time he saw you. Do you have any idea how beautiful you are? And all this while you were hiding behind those shabby clothes!

Lili Reinhart and Austin Abrams in the movie Chemical Hearts, 2020

Grace, you are a plethora of feelings all at once bound in the shackles of time and pain. A representative of the youth today. A representative of who we are, not only on the outside but on the inside as well. You are boisterously calm yet you have this thing about you that gets you going with a smile pasted on your face like white glue. After everything you have been through and dealing with at the moment, how did you manage to do something so brave?

Our scars are just reminders of how many battles we’ve fought and won. They tell stories of who we used to be before time imprinted on us. I know how it must have felt like to have been ripped off of the only person you truly ever loved. The pain is unbearable. And incidents like these keep happening until one day we decide to stand up on our feet, yet again. And so, you did. You stood up on your feet, even though it was with a walking stick. To you, it didn’t matter. Not anymore.

I remember watching you trying your level best to run on the race track when Henry spotted you. With eyes full of tears and a heart full of determination, you kept trying. But life isn’t a one way traffic, is it? Teen-agers like us, try and try harder with every passing day, battling with our fears so that we can make it out alive. But Dom’s death took away the only chance you had at living. After him, you were just a human being trying to survive.

It takes nothing but a ray of hope for people like you and I to start looking up. Henry. Your ray of hope. The world that we live in today doesn’t supply guys like him who work their ass off to impress a girl with a walking stick. He kept taking rides and nudging you, but what he didn’t know he was doing is pulling you out of the dark abyss.

Like all good metaphors, you are just another broken vase that he was trying to fix or I might as well, he succeeded in fixing. He added you to one of those hundreds of broken-fixed vases. But what you failed to notice was his love for you. Despite constant backlashes, he never gave up and strived harder to help you get out there. But I don’t blame you for not loving him back. It’s just one of those things that weren’t meant to happen; especially when you were still latching onto Dom’s death.

To acknowledge and face the truths about our disastrous youth, our broken hearts, our slit wrists isn’t something we practice too often. But you did. And that’s what gives me the courage to look forward to better days. You were like the moon; Waning and waxing crescent moon. Beautiful yet scarred. Some days, you would just want to be locked up in Dom’s room and on the others, you would want to go to a party looking steamingly hot.

How do I define you Grace? Like a group of atoms that so strongly resonates with mine that I can’t help but write a letter to you? Or a collection of stardust struggling to seep out through the crevices of your bones? Or just how a girl in her teens should be – vulnerable, hurt, anxious, mysterious yet beautiful. I think I would settle for the last. You have helped me in ways I could never explain, claiming that it’s alright to not be okay. We are allowed to explore the worst of things and still be happy with ourselves, because the sun goes down with the hope of coming back up.

Also, I want to go on record and say that, Grace Town, you are an extraordinary collection of atoms.

Fragrance of frangipani

Your good will came to me like the fragrance of frangipani,
So redolent, they reeked of summer and spring.
Fluting like high notes through the breeze,
They bloom like stars tied up to trees.
In shades of white and pink and red,
Sweet nectar to the bumble bees they fed.
The trail of scent it leaves behind,
Is not to forget, your warmth they remind.

A cluster of vivid colours they bring,
In your remembrance, love, they quietly sing.
Fleeting moments in the walks of life,
Like you and I, they blissfully arrive.
We watched them on our way back home,
Like abandoned children on the streets, we roamed.
In pursuit of pleasures we tore them off,
From the old man’s tree he planned to bedwarf.

We knew not of its beauty,
Like fallen shingles of ecstasy.
When the clock struck four,
In promises of eternity we swore.
‘Why do they have to die?’
You said with tears and a sigh.
‘All good things must come to an end’
Like love, and flowers and you my friend.

Do you not long for me anymore?
Or is it that you just walked out that door?
Not waiting to think, if this ship is yet to sink.
I weep for all that’s left, sweet frangipanis in the vase are kept.
I touch them with moist hands,
The perfume I try so hard to withstand
Only creeps further inside my veins,
Like soul to body, and air to flames.

Years gone by in the blink of an eye,
Like birds in the sky our time flies;
My love for sweet frangipanis still hold good,
As if it were the promises on which I stood.
The sapphire blue scarf adorning your neck,
In satins of white you loved in being dressed.

You smelled of strawberries and cream,
Walking again with you is what I dream.
Those deep-seated eyes, like glitter they shone,
Plain black and brown, like pearls you wore.
Cheeks clad in scarlet blush,
Heart with your nerves and red lush.

Till it all fell grey and mundane,
And the moon has started to wane;
The stars have been at fault,
The petals like dew, they moult;
For nothing after all, lasts forever
And everything suffers from eternal sever.

You left and with you, my wave of happiness;
My hope in a world, so lifeless,
My faith in a place, so reckless,
And my love in your heart, so worthless.
Your good will, filled me with a scent
That isn’t any longer kempt.
Like petals that shed in time,
If only I was yours, and you were mine.

Daughter dearest

Show them what you’ve trained for, daughter dearest,
Show them the claws you’ve sharpened,
And the teeth you’ve grown.

Show them your knuckles,
The knuckles that have bled for this.
Get close, close enough to show them the whites
Of your ocean like pretty eyes.

Show them those tears you’ve shed,
For every time the ones you loved, fled.
Howl, and howl louder than ever before,
And let them hear the anguish from which you’ve grown.

Soar to heights close to the moon,
Whisper prayers for the bane and the boon.
Bygone ages, we’ve been trapped in their cages,
Forgotten and abandoned
They held us hostages.

Clamps tied to our hands and legs,
We tear off of our bones and flesh.
Blood gushing out of our veins,
While scars on our skin embarked with cane.

Our daughters shrieking in agony,
Their cries so deafening, men punished for their felony.
In hushed tones these lessons we preach,
With hearts full of angst do we beseech.

Break free from all that holds you back,
Don’t be afraid, You are wolves in a pack.
All so you could, show them what you are,
All so you could, show them what you’ve trained for, daughter dearest.

My Favourite Things (The Sound of Music, 1965)

“Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens
Bright copper kettles and warm wollen mittens
Brown paper packages tied up with strings…
These are a few of my favourite things”

A song that perfectly captures my feelings on a winter evening. Soothing like tender snowflakes on my skin, it makes my heart truly happy. I feel joy bubbling inside my soul and watch troubles go astray. My cat purrs to this song as if it is a wake-up call; ‘Wake-up! Wash off all your sorrows and feel the sun shine upon you, so bright so fair that it fills you with hope.

Ever so often, I find myself mourning over the losses and backlashes I’ve faced and the least I want is for them is to go away. And when they don’t, all I have done and still do, is slide in the cassette dating back to 1965 with the labels reading ‘My Favourite Things’. And, it does the job what boxes and tumblers of ice cream and chocolates can’t.

Even on a lonely Sunday afternoon, when the world has turned its back against me, and I have nothing left to hold onto, I do what suits me best and hum to the tunes of ‘My Favourite Things’. Whisking coffee, I resonate with the tunes; washing my hair, I swirl to the melody. It is as if the cheerfulness follow my feet when she sings –

“Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes,
Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes,
Silver white winters that melt into springs
These are a few of my favourite things.”

Have we ever for once wondered as to why we’re unhappy? Why nothing makes us feel soulful? The answer is pretty non-rocket-science-like. It is solely because we don’t want to be happy; because too many responsibilities and promises are to be taken care of and we don’t have the time it takes for us to be happy. Even when it is not hard nut to crack.

It is the little things that count.

Those flowers that bloom and the fragrance that fumes, those cupcakes with berries, taste sweet like jaggeries, the silver-white snow upon the arching bow.

Why don’t we see it already? Why is happiness so hard to find when it’s just under our nose? Why can’t we help noticing that the only command our hearts listen to is ours? Perhaps, you and I, have forgotten that happiness can’t be looked for outside of ourselves as it lies right inside the soul that houses in our body.

“When the dog bites
When the bee stings
When I’m feeling sad…”

Have you ever been stung by a bee? Or bitten by a dog? I have been and I know how excruciating the pain is, much similar to one we get when stung by humans and bitten by their misdeeds. An average human has his heart broken multiple times in his lifetime, most of which do not lead to his death, but a lot a pain in addition to a puddle of tears. So what is it one is supposed to do in order to get out of it? What is that one thing that will wipe off our tears and put a smile on our faces?

“I simply remember my favourite things
And then I don’t feel
So bad”

Fleur

Scarlet geraniums and cranesbill
Spake in hushed tones
Made friends with sweet basil
With good and freewill.
Blooming in dainty
And sparkling like quartz so flinty
In touches of blue and purple
Lay the asters growing in bushels of circles.
Honeyed magnolia for the love of nature
Capturing and luring every creature.
Heliotropes spring in blue and white
You be dazzled! They seem so bright
Rosy camellias dangling from the tresses
Of plants rising like empresses.
Bonded by the lovely honeysuckle
Like fins of the Huckle.
Lost in the labyrinth of the orchids
Awry and askewd florids.
Nonetheless, you are that flower on the grave
White Chrysanthemums, saved for the brave.

Memories are an imminent doom

It was that time of year again.
The leaves were falling, birds chirped,
Sales for coats and scarfs were plastered on the outside of every store,
Smiling faces captured out of time.

I slowly made my way past it all,
Past the school where I first met you,
Past the park where we used to play,
Past the abandoned store.

So many memories, hung heavily in the fog,
cursing me with the trails of tears they left behind.
But how long?
Like I was a relaxed little child,
I lost track of the time and date;
Wandering aimlessly.
At every turn, a different picture played,
Only tormenting me.

I don’t remember how I got here.
All knew was that I was stuck.
In this locked box with a lost key;
In a maze of memories.
Every now and then I’m drowning,
In this sea of reminiscence,
That goes across my chest like a chisel.

It reaches to an extent when I whimper and whine, Yet there seems no hope or light.
How distinctly absurd scenarios cook up in my head,
Making me want to relive those.
If only that was possible, I wonder.
If only time travel was likely,
You would never see me again.

But what if?
What if ‘memory lane’ was a real place?
And not just something we happen to believe in?
What if the suffering is real?
And the pain and hurt?
What if all these places I’ve been trying to go,
And all these moments I’ve been trying to live
Actually exist, even outside my head?
What if you haven’t left me already?
And hiding just along the corner of the street?

Strangely, it makes sense to me,
And not to the world I live in.
I try to look deeper and it only hurts more,
Into pieces of sorrow I am tore.
Memories are an imminent doom,
That throw your soul right into its tomb.

You smile like you’re about to cry

You plaster on your cement smile,
But when it dries, it will crack
And all that’s left
Is shattered bits and pieces.
What do you see in your reflection?
Do you see what we see?
Or do you see your tears
That thrive behind your mask of lies
And emotionless ‘I am fines’?
Grief has reigned inside your head for years on end. You are a creature of emotion,
A goddess of sorrow.
Every word you say sparks bittersweet nostalgia, Mourning for days past and days yet to come.
Your eyes had glazed,
Your mouth gone dry.
But the glass in your eyes is not only a screen,
Your eyes are a mirror that I’ve always seen.
And that’s when it hits me,
The smile, the tears.
I’ve felt them, I’ve dealt them
Throughout all these years. And just like a mirror
Whose face do I see?

“Smile like you’re about to cry.”
That “you” had always been me.
Your kind soul, who is still rejected over and over. Your trusting heart, who was abandoned,
Left to drown in your own grief.
Your strong mind, who battled your demons alone. Your survival, that came out on the other side Victorious, but can’t quite hide the
Tears waiting right behind that smile.
We’re dancing like there’s no tomorrow,
Letting you know that you’re anything but hollow; But somehow the only thing you can see is sorrow.
You want to let it all go,
But don’t know in which direction to go;
For you have so much light to shed,
If only you knew what lay ahead.
You always smile like you’re about to cry,
But don’t you worry,
I promise we’ll fly high.