The one where I refuse to conform

On a bad day, when I feel like giving up

I seek the comfort of my mother’s arms

The feeling of stability she resonates

I find relief in her arms

The comfort of finding the one you look up to the most

The feeling of warmth that spreads through you

Even if it can’t fill the hollowness in your chest

It makes you feel loved for just a second

For a moment I forget the problems I have

The fights I have with her disappear

Silence envelopes us for those moments and

I don’t have to keep my guard up

In those moments, we just exist

Peacefully, beautifully

She showed me a post that said

“When in doubt, follow your mother”

All I could do was laugh in my mind

Following her?

Being a mini version of her?

I was already that

I hid myself in conflict

I gave in when there was a fight

I collapsed into myself

Tried to fold myself as small as I could

All in the hope that

Maybe now I could fit

I learnt to get hurt

It was okay to get hurt because they love you

Hurting someone means you love them, and they love you

It is better to hurt than to be alone

I learnt these things from my mother

These are the life lessons she has given me

I see all the women in my family duplicate themselves

They all try to make the next one independent

They tell them to be unlimited but always in a limited way

You should be career oriented, but you can never forget family

Having space is good but you can never demand it

Boundaries are important but not in the family sphere

Be social, have friends, but don’t go out too much

Friends can’t be family. You can’t tell them about abuse

Abuse is meant to be confined in the four walls

Let the hit come, let the words sting

It will feel like a hurricane

You will feel your self esteem shatter to bits

But you still must be graceful when you fall

Your established boundaries and the need for basic respect is too much an ask

You must learn from the women before you

They survived so far and so must you

But I try to betray these patterns

Try to stray away

Only to be pulled in deeper

Nobody lets you leave these behaviours behind

They don’t want you to have space

You should have no spine

You should continue to fold

Continue to make yourself smaller and try to fit in

I can’t fold any further.

My seven folds are over

And I am still not small enough to fit

I used to think you are unbreakable and you could never be wrong

But I see you try again and again

Pressing down

Asking for a little more and more and more

But this is where I tear

This is my goodbye

Strained Grief

Poetry bleeds from the lips of those whose words can make a difference

My words are not poetry,

They just fly around in a dark room until someone stumbles upon them

And mistakes them for poetry

I want to write about grief in a way that is beautiful yet painful

I want to make metaphors out of thin air, but I can’t breathe these days

I can’t romanticise grief and suffering

It hurts physically, emotionally, and mentally.

Grief is not beautiful, it is not a journey

It painful and never-ending

We only hope that it gets better someday

Until we find something that reminds us of them,

And we break all over again

These days, I don’t even have to look for grief

It is all around me

Every person I turn to is grieving for someone around them

Because help is difficult to find

Impossible if it is an emergency

Words are left unsaid, and breaths are left trapped in windpipes

They choke them and snatch the dreams of everyone

It leaves you with nothing but a broken jar of memories that you are desperately trying to cling on to

You cut yourself on your precious memories

You forget how to be without the one you lost

You try to hope the one you could lose holds on better

And you are caught in a tug of war with life

Hoping, pleading, crying

Just wishing it would let at least this one live

I can’t sit and talk about grief in pretty metaphors

I can’t stain the broken glass and make it look beautiful

The grief I see these days,

It is like an infected wound caused by a rusted serrated knife

It hurts and burns, and you watch the poison travel up veins

It leaves you with an ache in your bones as your throat closes up

You want to scream but your voice has given up

Your tears have run dry, and you still can’t process it

You sit on your bed saying “what?” till you can make the ringing in your head stop

But it doesn’t

It just never seems to stop

I see grief wreck us apart

Make us feel pain like we have never felt before

Leave us breathless and out of control

Helpless

Like those on beds with tubes attached to them

Hoping and praying they make it out alive

And I want to be angry

Angry at the doctors for not doing enough

Until I realise that they are doing all they can

So, I get angry at an incompetent government that can’t enforce protocols

That guzzles money without accountability

That is so caught up in its pettiness that it cannot focus on the matter at hand

A government so incompetent at its job that it tells its citizens to do the work it

But most of all,

I mourn,

I mourn for those who are gone

I mourn for those who could be gone

And I mourn for myself because I can picture myself

Just as helpless, just as out of breath, and just as pained

As those who are out there fighting while I,

I sit and write angry words out of my grief that I can’t channel properly.

My Ode to Adulting

These days all I want to do is scream

Scream till my throat hurts

Till the last breath leaves my lungs

Till the pain no longer hurts.

I feel trapped in a body that doesn’t feel like mine

In a house that I don’t wish to call mine

With a family that doesn’t feel like mine.

Every day I wake up and hear

“You’re not depressed, you just enjoy it”

“You’re just lazy”

“You don’t even try”

Even waking up takes effort Ma,

I don’t know how to convince you otherwise.

It baffles you that I don’t feel productive

That I can’t drown myself in work like you do

I understand that it pains you to see me without ambition

But how can I have ambition when I don’t want to live

I know you’ll say that my will to live will come from my ambition

And I don’t know how to answer you when you say that

These days, I don’t know how to answer anything

You ask me about a future I don’t see

And plans that I don’t have

I don’t feel like an adult Ma,

I don’t want to feel like one

Why?

There’s no joy in being one

An adult walks around like nothing but a soul sucked of joy

Whose blood is pumped by a drug called ambition and success

What are they doing it for?

A better life? A bigger car? A bigger house?

None of that matters when they’re not there

I don’t want to be an adult,

I don’t want to live that life

I want to be the kid that I never got to be

So Ma, don’t get angry when I laugh and do stupid things

I’m trying really hard to not disappoint you every single day

While trying to be my own person

The role conflict keeps getting to me

I just want to relive my childhood in my own way

Let me shrug off this false adulthood for a while

Let me rediscover who I was supposed to be but lost along the way

Being an adult is a social construct that I’m not ready for yet.

Things I wish I could tell Ma

My mother asks me

“Why don’t you write anymore?”

“I can’t write, ma”

I don’t know how to explain it to you

How do I tell you that

Words don’t make sense to me anymore

They jumble up in front of me 

Expecting me to string them coherently

But I can’t 

I can’t process emotions anymore

I can’t seem to understand what I’m feeling and why

Everything feels like tangled earphones 

Except these don’t have an end

I can’t find out where it starts and where it ends

All i can see is a colossal mess

It’s so overwhelming that i’ve forgotten what it feels to feel anymore

I crave human touch

I ask you to hug me because science says we need 8 hugs a day for survival

And it’s true, I need them 

I was so used to being able to hold my friends 

So used to being held 

That i forgot that it was a privilege 

A privilege I no longer had 

I want you to hold me because no one else’s touch in the house feels good

It doesn’t make me comfortable because i have bones to pick with all of them

I want to be held but you hate being touched

I want to be hugged for hours at an end without talking 

But you don’t like hugs 

And in this house, I only like you

How do I tell you this is all that i feel

How do I express this desire without words 

How do I tell you that even talking feels like a task

I know you say I’m always on the phone but 

At this point, I am barely functioning anymore

Half the time I can’t reply to friends because they keep asking me

“What’s up?”

How do I tell them that my brain can’t process what’s up anymore 

That I am so worried about my future, about our future 

So much so that I’ve become zen

There is no panic in my mind because I’ve convinced myself so

I refuse to read the news because i can’t deal with the horrors each month brings forth

Is it anxiety? I don’t know

Am I depressed? I wouldn’t say so

I would rather call it sadtember and talk about yeeting myself off a bridge because 

It feels more natural to joke about it than to actually talk about my mental health

I would rather feel accomplished because I took a shower today than cry because I’m not productive

What even is productive?

What should I be productive for?

The future that is in ruins? 

The job that I probably won’t get because of this crashing economy?

The college admissions that I’m worried about because there are too many kids in our country and not enough good colleges?

The colleges that don’t even consider extracurriculars

The exams that check my intelligence just on the basis of my ability to rote learn

I can’t bring myself to be productive

None of this probably makes sense 

But I hope you understand ma

Everytime you say “why don’t you write anymore?”

My brain goes into an overdrive because I’m forced to think about these things 

And I panic 

So my brain goes numb 

I stop processing things 

And I tell you

“I can’t write, ma”

Burden of a Basilisk

“It’s a girl”

The doctor proclaimed

My mothers face glowed

But the others looked disappointed.

 

A few days later

They put the ceremonious snake around my neck

It was to teach me the ways of the world

To guide me through life

Since I was a girl and didn’t know better.

 

I didn’t notice the snake till I was 3

You decided to take your anger out on me

The snake, an avatar of you,

Decided to help

It tightening around my neck,

While you put the bolt on the bathroom door.

 

For the first time, I knew what scared meant.

 

The snake now had a purpose

Growing like a basilisk and

Constricting me till I conform.

 

Every time I wore a skirt, shorts, or showed a little skin in public

It tightened just enough to make me panic

Just enough to make me change

 

Every time I saw a man around me when I was alone

It tightened enough to restrict my breathing and make me want to run

Making me question every intention of every man around me

 

But the snake never made me question you

It never understood my emotions

It never understood that my throat constricted without it

Every time you were near

Each time your temper spiked,

I would brace myself

For a brawl or a fight

 

By the time I reached the age of 15,

The snake decided that I was only a molestation away from ready

So, at the age of 16,

The snake finally left me

It left me scared every time I stepped out

Always conscious of what I wear and where I go

And constantly scared of the men around me

 

But you,

Neither did you leave nor let us.

So, I’m stuck here

Consciously scared of what you might do

And unconsciously always feeling constricted around my throat.

Queerly Atheist Heart

The narrow streets are crowded

Overflowing with people

Small children are moving about

Buying and crying for toys

The vehicles honking as they go

 

In the distance,

I can hear a wail

It’s the evening prayer time

I can hear the ringing of the temple bells

And the cries of the namaz starting

 

My atheist heart shudders

As I walk down the street

Thinking about them

With their rituals and unconditional love for God

 

They don’t accept me

All the religions

They never seem to tell me

That my creator loves me

The way they tell their own

 

I used to be a follower too

I tried every door

Every masjid

Every church

Every mandir

 

But they all told me

That my “eccentric” character

Isn’t what God likes

My want for equality

Caused a huge outcry

 

They just couldn’t believe

That the one beyond the clouds

Could form something like me

Half man

Half woman

 

My character is judged

On the basis of my attire

The pitch of my voice

Stuns people all around

Making them question my existence

 

My queerness

Hurts their “moral fibre”

It seems un-human

They say I’m cursed

And they fear me

 

They fear me

So they harass me

Disrespect me

Treat me as a

Second-class citizen

 

They all tell the followers of their own

“God loves everyone, unconditionally”

Yet, they draw a line at me

 

Everything is made by God

But the conflict of my mind and body

Boggles them and causes an itch in their backsides

 

They try to tell me

That I am unnatural

They try to make me fit into a role as per “culture”

It’s not who I am

And I don’t want to be

 

I refuse

I refuse to be a puppet

Pulled by the strings of some interpretation

Of a text who’s meaning you can’t

Fully comprehend

Whose words have meanings

That you are unaware of

 

I have debated long and hard

For the acknowledgement of my being

For my rights

For me to be able to exist without restrictions

For letting others like me

Know that it’s okay to be alive

 

So my atheist heart

Took a pledge

A pledge to not let the puny man

With a pea-sized brain

Tell me what to do

 

I stand by my eccentricities

I don’t need your God

To love me

As long as I have me and

My queerly atheist heart

 

Plastic Lover

Dear Plastic Lover,

I was used to people

Entering and leaving

As and when they pleased

At their own whim

My blue was exotic

Refreshing and different

A peaceful and pleasant change

From the gritty grime of life

I am the perfect lover

The one they love and fear the most

I am the tender and gentle caress of mother

I am the wrath of a father

But I’m not so perfect with judgment

I am naive

I have been around for centuries

Yet I fell for you

My blue couldn’t believe the many colors

Colors that decorated your body

You were a painting

I wanted to draw

My waters pulled you into me

Loud and bright

You were refreshing and different for me

I finally understood human fascination with me

I thought you were the most beautiful thing to exist

You told me that you thought the same about me

You told me

That you loved me

I believed you

I believed every little thing you said

Never once questioning

All your sugar-coated lies

I let you penetrate my vulnerable virgin waters

I let your love expand

You multiplied till

I was me no more

I lost the human fascination

I couldn’t bear to look at me anymore

I was an expanse of brightness

Miles and miles of endless plastic

Your all consuming love

Is slowly killing me

I keep trying to push you out

You just keep coming back in more forms

Don’t you see?

Your colorful brightness,

The one I loved so much

Is choking the life in me

So I beg you,

Please leave

Mama’s Boy

“It’s not good to be greedy”

My mother had told me

As she left for her 9-5

At a big MNC

 

But I’m not greedy

Not for wealth

I only wish

For a little more time

 

I only wanted a few

(hundred)

More memories to cherish

With you/ of you

 

“Don’t leave me”

I used to cry out

Every time my mother

Left for her office

 

Maybe that’s what they mean

By love and attachment

Not being able to live without someone

Not wanting them to leave

 

So, I cling on to you

The way I used to

Cling on to my mother

Seeking the same comfort

 

Hoping that you’d stay

Unlike the last one

Unlike her.

 

But they never do

(please stay)

 

I plead, again.

 

Please

Hold me close

Love me

The way a mother would

Unconditional love

Unbounded love

 

I know I’m not easy to deal with

But I need you

Just like I needed her

To be there when I broke

To help me join the broken pieces

To heal scars of past relationships

To stop me

From picking scabs of my heart

 

I need you to love me

The way a mother would

Gentle love

Patient love

Kind love

The way mothers are supposed to

(stay)

 

Don’t leave me

Prematurely

The way mother did

My heart can’t handle

Yet another heartbreak

 

I am a mama’s boy

After all

Elevator of Memories

I have a bunch of memories

With details too vague to fully grasp

They all share the same progression

An insignificant thing. A fight. A bruise.

An apology that never really followed through.

 

With every re-enactment of this story

I would lose a little piece of me

I became a little more numb

With each new purple badge

Adorning my skin

 

I would promise myself

“Never again”

Every night when my body hurt

When I cried myself to sleep

“Never again”

 

Nevertheless,

Anticipating another time

Preparing another piece to die

Saying another goodbye

In the fear of uncertainty

 

(Dreading the day I say goodbye to the last piece of me)

 

The last time I bruised,

Was the last time I was me

With those blows

My glass like self shattered

Something inside me had

died.

 

No I don’t remember it like

It was yesterday

It’s just roughly cut up reality

Bits and pieces of hurt,

Little bolts of immense pain.

 

(I felt like a placid rag doll.

Tossed aside. Beaten down. Unwanted)

 

When the elevator dinged

I walked out

Carrying the procession of my spirit

Its corpse lying

On a bed of pain and hurt

 

I left behind who I used to be

In the corner of that very elevator

At 2 in the night.

Home Alone

A lone traveler

Wanting to settle

That’s what you told me

When we met that night

 

You asked me if I had

A place to stay

“Would you stay a long time?

Would you stay?” I asked.

 

You gave me a small smile and said

“I would love to stay”.

So I showed you,

A little rustic

A little broken

With a few cracks

Healing with time

I showed you my prized possession.

 

“Beautiful” was all you said.

It was at this point

That my house gave a little flutter

Letting you in

Allowing you to get comfortable.

 

“This is my beautiful house

I hope to make it a home

The rent’s not much,

Only presence for a couple of hours a day.

The maintenance is a little work

It needs attention and love

Will you be okay with it?”

I asked, a little vulnerable

A little shy

 

You nodded, with a small smile

Making yourself comfortable,

You left your footprints on the carpets

Along with your scent in the sheets.

 

“I have a few ground rules”

I said suddenly

Reacting to the caution sign

Lit up in my brain

 

“1. Take good care of the house.

It is the only one I have

Its foundation, the comfort you find here

Took years and a thousand tears to make”

 

A little unsure

But you agreed.

 

“2. Don’t change anything.

Repair the cracks if you can

But don’t change the way it is.”

 

I see you hesitate,

Nod,

Shuffle a little closer to the door.

 

“Lastly, don’t let your past lovers in

Through the back gates or secret alleyways.

My heart is a beautiful house

But it cracks easily.”

 

In a flash,

You’re gone

And me?

I’m home alone

Again.