When she visits

When she visits,

you find yourself wearing the same clothes for the entire weekend. 

When she visits,

you lose track of the moon and the sun. 

When she visits,

you have more walls than human beings around. 

When she visits,

only she understands that sometimes tears have no reason too. 

When she visits,

sick leaves find a way into your inbox. 

When she visits,

your last meal was one you can’t remember. 

When she visits,

your leg is in the grave and you don’t know it at all. 

Sleep tight.

I’m well versed with dissappointment. 

I’ve flirted with expectations, but didn’t really keep him. 

I’ve held on to abandonment issues, because he didn’t want to let go. 

Alcoholism was a sober choice and narcotics was a highlight. 

Well, esteem liked his highs and lows with me. 

Love never stayed in times of need. 

Ego was inquisitive and found his way into everything

Denial had the habit of never accepting. 

These are my demons that come home every night,

Only to say you’re not alone, sleep tight. 

How bad it hurts.

When you ripped apart my dignity,

A wound surfaced on my soul.  

Fresh, gory and painful. 

When you decided that you were done pushing and shoving,

A bruise grew on my sleeve. 

Because that’s where I wore my heart. 

When you decided to walk away and tear my life apart,

The strings that tugged on to my heart ruptured. 

Yes, that’s how bad it hurt. 

But the pain is long gone, only the scars remain. 

To remind me, that it hurt once and it never will come alive again. 

Not an actual medical condition.

My reverie came to an abrupt end when a reality check sounded like my alarm clock. 

I opened my eyes but the heaviness of my head weighed me down like stoned strapped to my body. 

After a while I found myself staring at somebody else in the mirror. 

I broke away from that by opening the closet, and staring at numerous pills. 

Blood pressure, diabetes, flu – all coloured pills, all big conditions, but none of them had my name written on it. 

Perhaps I had no symptoms that deemed me unhealthy. I carefully ironed my clothes to silence playing up, as my thoughts screeched like tyres.

‘An apple a day keeps the doctor away.’ 

Well that hoarding definitely kept more patients away, I thought. Patients like me, who knew not about their condition. 

As I reached office, my email was staring back at me. I had medical insurance asking me to sign up. The subject line said – all conditions covered! Secure your future. 

What I’ve been going through was not on the list. Perhaps it didn’t require chemo. Perhaps it didn’t have visible symptoms. Perhaps it didn’t look like what a condition should look like.

How could I secure my future if my present was at risk?

If other diseases would give you a death date, this would eat you up and make sure you die everyday. 

You die everyday because people are ignorant, You die everyday because your ‘disease’ doesn’t have you looking like a patient. 

You die everyday because no medicine controls the mind from going haywire. 

Patients like me put on a smile, walk out the door, behave normally, and are told – it’s all in your head. 

Well it’s all in my head, until the day I silence it. Because, it’s a disease people refuse to recognize. 

It isn’t something that can get you admitted in a hospital. No I don’t need saline. 

But it’s just as bad. It’s time they realize. 
~ In memory of those who struggle with depression, anxiety and worse mental health issues that people choose to ignore. 

Brown-eyed Boy

It baffles me that nobody ever told him that his eyes aren’t pitch black.

They’re actually brown, caught up between copper and honey.

His eyes turn into a beautiful shade when the sun shines and his smile radiates. 

When he cries, it’s as if dew drops of honey trinkled down his pristine face. 

How can these eyes go unnoticed for so long? 

After all,

these are the very brown-eyes that caught me off guard and captivated me for life. 

Beparwahi

Beparwah mann sabse zyada soch pata hai. 

Beparwah dil sabse zyada mehsoos kar pata hai. 

Beparwah hai yeh jahaan, fir beparwah tum kyu na hue?

Duniya ki reet hai samjhana, 

dil ki zidd hai kahi door kho jana. 

Manzile kabhi kareeb, kabhi meelon door le aati hai,

Iraade ek dor se humari yaado ko kass kar judati hai. 

In lafzo pe na mar mito, yeh duniya zaalim hai.

Khud ko luta de, lekin dil pe inaam na likh. 

Yeh dil tumhari, zindagi tumhari aur dhun bhi tumhari hai.

Toh duniya ko kurbaan na kar, yeh saansein bhi tumhari hai. 

Logon ki khushiya ka boj tum pe na lo.

Yeh wahi kandha hai jo khudko hi sahara de payega. 

Tum beparwah ho jao, duniya guzarti jayegi. 

My blazing meteor

I will not call you a star or a planet,

I would rather call you a blazing meteor. 

Because you never just existed or gravitated towards me,

You suddenly descended into my life with an undeniable force. 

You blazed in, with a flame that blinded me,

Only to gift me a vision from another world. 

You were a fireball that burnt its way into my world,

But the moment you touched base, you fit perfectly. 

You fit perfectly on the face of my planet,

Like a stone belonging to this surface for over a decade.

That’s why I say, I will always call you a blazing meteor. 

All the bright places

He taught me how to live,

To live a life that he gifted me back.

He coloured the faded corners,

And made the green in my eyes sparkle bright. 

With him, water felt different on my skin,

It was as if he quenched a thirst I never knew I had.

But gradually, moment after moment,

Days passed, and memories remained. 

My life grew, and his diminished. 

Little did I know that the colour in my life came from his. 

Little did I know that he saved me and lost himself. 

Little did I know that the echo we left in the mountains was the only voice he ever had. 

And if I had known, would I be able to gift him the life he once gave me back?

He called her an enigma

He called her madness,

And she showed him how wayward her feelings were. 

He called her raw,

And she showed him how her thoughts were as ripe as a forbidden fruit. 

He called her unreal,

And she showed him the eye for surrealism.

He called her incomplete,

And she showed him his world at a single glance. 

He was everything she wanted to be. 

She was everything he couldn’t be. 

He called her an enigma,

And she showed him the pieces to her mystery. 

The age of ‘swipe right’

And sometimes I wonder, in the age of ‘swipe right’ if I’d find someone different. 

Somebody who’d be hypnotized by the words I’ve used and not by the filters on my face. 

Somebody who’d stalk my writing from nascent stages rather than my pre-puberty posts. 

Somebody who’d crave for handwritten letters and not just forwarded texts. 

Somebody who would have a book of lyrics instead of copy-captioning them. 

Somebody who would quote authors and not ask for asl. 

I still wonder. 

Does the age of ‘swipe right’ make somebody out there look for a ‘book night’?