The Introverted Man (2)

He’s definitely one of his kind, he wears clothes like a 12 grade teen, with sweatshirt always on and dark colored pants, he hides his shy demeanor by tucking his hands in his side pockets and walks with ease.

His aviators are alwys there by his side, he wears them to hide away his rhuemy eyes, for he wishes to hide away. His light brown eyes would show you a variety of things, only if you closely pay attention to the words his eyes speak.

They’d at times twinkle too bright, like the stars he encounters by the sea, they lit up like his favourite star when he narrates his childhood play with his dad and sister practicing WWE with each other during his school days.

His eyes hide away the turmoil within him too, hide away the many sleepless nights he spent at the sea, or the times he lay awoke on the cold bed, homesick, wishing to be just a bit closer to his shore.

If you closely pay attention to his eyes, you can see patches of melancholy aligned too, of the days he cried when no one was around, the days he felt he wasnt the perfect child, or the days he prayed he could just leave. They are latched below his eyes, he names it *tiredness* for he couldn’t fall asleep since he was working and partying at nights.

Yet he’d never show an ounce of emotions from his end, for his bright smile would cover up these.

His smile, is as pleasant as the winds during June rains, the one that makes everyone around them so lively and chirpy. It’d remind you of the 11:11 wish you read online, he’s the kind of guy who’d make sure you’re always happy and all right.

He’d stare at you across the room full of people, he notice how the veins on your forehead look too bright in the afternoon sun, how you awkwardly tuck your hair when you feel anxious or shy. He’d also notice the way you truly smile, the way your eyes roll or the way you gently sigh, he’d look deep into your eyes when you’re looking away or when you’re trying to hide.

He’d need no words to understand how you feel, for his intuitive gut would work just fine. He’d know how to make you laugh or when to change the subject of your talk, when to get coffee or when to offer you a cigarette puff.

He’d also be there to hold your hand when you feel the stairway is too uncertain towards the end, he’d ask you if you’re all right and hold your hand too tight and smile. His rough hands would softly catch yours all the time, his fingers would draw circles around your wrists, to tell you he would never leave.He’d never back down from walking hand in hand by the street, his grip would be like the knots he learnt in sailing school, never lose, always firm and tight.

Lastly, he’d hug you too tight, the one that would make you forget about everything else around you, the one that would shatter all your previously held ambiguities, it’d feel as cozy as the your favorite blanket during wintery nights and would make you feel safe and make you smile.

What your past does to you.

●Your past doesn’t haunt you, how you’d expect it to.

It just slowly makes that once lively heart a bit more silent, makes it beat a bit more slower, it cries while you smile on the outside, it cries at night, the sound is heard only by the one who prays today would be the day, they hope they fall asleep.

●Your past doesn’t haunt you at all.

It just takes away your ability to feel things anymore, you dont enjoy the coffee you once lived for, it rather tastes like any other liquid that passes down your parched throat. Your salty tears seem to be the only one that keep you alive, anymore.

●You feel pangs of pain in the chest, they feel like those violent rain drops that thundered that night, the one that suffocates you, when you breathe, you feel like you’re drowning in your own tears, like the way you once drowned into their eyes, but this feeling is as heavy as the weight of your lips when you tried to fake a smile when they told you they have found someone else, as heavy as the footsteps that walked away that time.

● Your past doesnt haunt you, it kills you little by little everyday.

It makes you question the thoughts and feelings of eveyone that comes in your way. You try to be a bit more sham everyday, you see how easy it is to lie to eveyone else, to fake that gorgeous smile or show them your lively Instagram life.

Yet what you dont show them, are those cigarettes buds that keep getting accumulated everyday, that spirit that you once disliked is your friend, the cold bed side and the wailing rusty fan seems to understand your plight.

●It makes you hold yourself at night, to hush off the nightmares of the past. It makes you trust less and worry more, You’re present in the moment with others but yet you never feel home,

You smile, you talk,

You show you’re fine.

●Yet this past is latched on to you like a venom of the spider upon its prey, the more you wish to get out of it, the more it sticks to your core, first your eyes then your throat and lastly the heart, this venomous poison isnt visible to the naked eye, for others would feel you’re perfectly.

Thus your past doesn’t haunt you,not at all, worse, it just makes you numb for your entire life.

Random thought.

In this life,you might fall in love with the three kind,

one who gifts you bouquets of exotic flowers,

One who nurtures your flowers and plucks away your painful thorns

Or the one that gifts you their own thorn and scars.

Random thought.

This takes time,

It’s not fast in pace,

Rather steady like the ocean waves,

Yes they get violent, are tranquil at times too

But they never lose their pace

They keep moving on,

never lay still at one place.

Maybe healing works in similar ways?

Poem 55#



I dont wanna write anymore,
Was this destined in my palm too?
My palm has so many broken lines,
Reminds me of the geometry figure I couldn’t draw even after multiple trials,
Alas in the end, the creased paper had multiple broken lines, they were invisible to the naked eye,
But for me, I could see, my failure tangled like the spiders web.
And oh my maths teacher, she often gave me a zero out of 25.

I don’t enjoy my daily coffee too,
It tastes bland, maybe 3 tsp isnt strong?
Maa tells me this coffee is making me senile,
Or maybe it’s your phone, that’s making you mad! She says.
Maybe she is right,
I’m stuck with this phone like the lover to its rose,
It’s the first thing I have in my hand and the last thing I check before I sleep.

How much are you sleeping nowadays shibu!? Maa questions me for the millionth time,
Are you even paying attention to what I’m saying?? I nodd, but she walks away
I dont sleep, really, just lie down on my unmade bed, lie with my warm blanket shielding me away from the ghosts of the past,
But they find an abode through the space I leave off below my cold feet,

Did I do enough today? I question myself
But all I hear is the last local honking in the background,
There is no sign of moon today,
I see a bat hanging upside down the almond tree infront of my window pane,
He swings so peacefully and silently rests by the other birds who usually attack him in day.

Bhai then blabbers in his sleep,
Something about his work, how he has to reach the intended goal for the month,
He then nods his head and tilts to other side of the bed,

Shibu dont you wanna sleep?” Dad’s hoarse voice alerts me away,

Yes, i will now”  the cold floor really feels weird during winter days,
With a quick look at the grey skies, I escalate towards my bed.

Goodnight dad” I mumble,

He ignores my words, as he sits by the window pane.

Poem 54#

•••••
It was a usual day,
With the moon shining by the purple skies,
Maa smiling with me, resting by the window pane,

‘The moon is more closer if you see, my dandelion”

“How, maa?” It’s so far away, like papa!!”

“It is right in here”
Her cold fingers quivered under the night, took my little ones and rested them on my heart,

“Now close your eyes” she said,

“But if I close them, how will I see my moon!!”

“Oh you silly girl, your innocent eyes cannot capture infinity, for that you need the vision of your heart”

she then giggled,
like a naive child
Under the moon’s radiant light,
her eyes gleamed with delight,
she beamed like the full moon

And in that moment, I realised maa had lied,
Maybe eyes could capture infinity

••••••
Later that night,
She fed me dried raisins and stale roti,
Then a glass of salty milk,
Tear stained, her lips were sealed,
Silently, I swallowed it in.

She ignited the oil lamp,hollow and dark.
Her rhuemey eyes had lost its shine,
Small and dim, the light,
it was empty inside.

She told me stories about the moon,
told me how i must act strong from henceforth,
Later hummed “tujhse naraaz nahi zindagi” until I fell asleep in her arms
But during that warm tranquil night,
I felt her cold lips kiss my hair,

“Goodbye, my dandelion, stay strong,
Mama will miss you”
•••••••

The letter was hidden behind papa’s razor box,
the paper had many cuts,
many words scribbled too.
Blobs of blood and tear stained,
The black ink echoed this way:

‘Maa won’t be back soon, my child,
Just rest your eyes and don’t miss
her tonight,
For she is going very far, close to the moon

The stars shall tell you, it’ll be soon.
She loves you, stay strong, my child.
She never wanted to say goodbye,
But this is how everything will be fine.

-The moon will remember you, my little dandelion.

Random thought (3)

We’re all bold,

We’re all shy,

We’re all dull and boring

We are dynamic at times,

We’re all happy,

We’re all sad people living a colossal lie

It depends on the day, that moment “that time”

For sane individuals to ruin their perfect lives.