Poem 56#

There’a broken tap in the kitchen sink,
It keeps shredding pellets of water at night,
Many tried to fix it,
To repair the seal.
Yet it remains broken.

But doesn’t leak during morning hours,
For mum ties it with a muslin cloth.

“See now? There’s always a way to fix broken things,” Maa proudly says,

“I wish temporary solutions would work that way,”
I continue with the dishes for the day
With the soggy old sponge, I start cleaning the dishes,
It has holes now, blobs of black dots surround its core,
Yet it scrubs away the dirt and cleans the vessels perfectly fine.

Maa’s favourite steel kadhai is blackened due to overuse,
It takes me more than a couple of mins to scrub a small patch of dot,

“Ugh this won’t go away, Maa!!”

“Oh it’s an old stain, it won’t leave this quick,”
maa reckons to me,

“Then what do I do?”

“Find a way to clean the black stain, Shibu.”

“But it’ll take a lot more time, too much work.”
I sigh,

“Then what do you wish to do?
Let the stain get darker and even more difficult to get off?”

Maybe she was right,
Maybe old stains never leave their shore easily after all.
Keep getting darker by day,
And harder to forget or erase.

-Shivani Dubey.

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.

Lust and love ( edited version)

**Lusty lies, beautiful smiles**

You’d find an abode in those tempestuous eyes,
those oh so perfect smiles, everything they do just seems so vague yet perfectly fine,

Some call it that wish for which they often prayed,
Oh! Look my wish was granted away.
I found the one, my happy place.

But for some pessimists like me,
Lust works like the poison that freezes the tarantula away,
Have you heard about that naive wasp that preys on those gloomy tarantulas by the bay?
This gloomy spider means it no harm, it runs away from the shadow of wasp,
But the wasp has her eyes fixed on its prey,
Her poisonous sting, paralyzes the spider away,
It cant think, nor move, it’s the wasp’s personal play.

Lust works on similar ways,
You’re paralyzed by their beauty and their face,
By their expressive eyes, their notorious self,
They are so brilliant in everything they do,
How could a person relaxing in his pajamas and unmade hair look so cute?

Being with them would make you forget everything else in life,
You’d read articles related to them talk to your friends and ask them for their views,
Take his side and convince your friends too,
You’d slowly start adapting his ways, so quick,
You’d expect the same energy from him too.

Every time you’d meet him,you would observe him a bit more closely,
The way he talks so calmly, the way he folds his arms together and gently frowns, the way he runs his fingers alongside his hair,
The way his hazel eyes shine with glee,
His peculiar beard trimmed in 90’s style.

His presence would make your day,
you’d ache to be in his arms
and wish to kiss him once again, you’d plan your next meet,
the things you’d say,
the dress you’d wear, the way you’d make your hair,
his favourite color would be yours too,everything should be perfect, for our adonis is just that way.

You’d fnd different ways to text him
(or accidentally text him? :p)
send him memes, flood him with questions new,
would expect his attention right away,
what if he forgets to text you day? Was he busy? Is he seeing someone new?
Let’s watch his story on Instagram or maybe snapchat today??

Random rant for the day.

Moving on is very ambiguous, it’s more complicated than falling in love itself Moving on/ way from infatuation/ lust relationship,is like carrying a sack full of sponge,it is supposed to be light you know? But the unforeseen rains just make it too heavy and now you just wander around with that load, everyday.

It is at times,that road you knew would lead you to your destination, but the various bumps and the uncertain track, makes you confused, you don’t know where you stand. Have you almost reached? Or have you not even crossed any checkpoint yet? Are you finally there? Can you celebrate your victory away? You’re quite unsure.

*****

I have tried all the things the Psychology today article said, at times referred to the book by various authors, or read those articles online.

They suggested a variety of things, from giving them a weird nickname, to making fun or laughing at their flaws (this was too extreme and fucked up I’d say) or talking it out to them sharing what you really felt, but in my case, it ended up with another series of texting battles, but the other side was too polite I couldn’t understand if that’s how things ended in normal way.

But the widely acceptable way I was told was, Giving it time, for it heals everything, I wonder if it truly does?

Or do you hide these feelings in a bottle full of sorrow and throw them in a sea of melancholy and pain? Where they lie afloat, dont sink nor drown, just flow away to a land unknown.

Or maybe it is that room filled with the person you once loved, or thought you did, the ones who lied, at times betrayed, at times met you by destiny or fate, but alas time, oh time,has it’s own way to take them away, they lie behind that door, of rusty lies and broken promises,you lock them away and never look back, for the keys, you’ve lost and now, you just wait.

Maybe time just teaches you, patience? And the other things, you learn them away

*****

It also means, there are days you are absolutely composed, so busy in your daily routine you forget about their existence, forget everything they ever said, it’s as though life was getting normal per se.

Then the very next moment, something ultra random and trivial reminds you of them. That peculiar cologne smell, someone walking in similar way as them, with ear phones tucked in their ears, they are rejoicing in their own world, their own place,or that unusual fragrance of that incense that made you feel jittery every time you met, the song they recommend being played in the background or in the place away.

Just one tiny thing and there you are the naive moth, once again, drawn to those wild flames, you get lost in the moment, remembering their smile, their eyes, their words, you missed them again.

Just godddamm why?

The paradoxical one.

She is unsure and uncertain in life, she wants a few things, yet doesnt want them too. She would initiate the conversation then feel it losing it’s sight and in time with her lack of effort, it’ll die.

For she knows they’d have many others whom they would talk to, she’d assume small things and get nervous all the time, “why did you type the Okay ♥️ as ok, / okay / k/ this time?”The others she wonders about the tone of their text and replies, “were they in a hurry or did they wish to talk to me after a while?”

“Why didn’t they use their regular emoji, or are they done with her hopeless plight?”

She deletes messages quite often too,for her anxiety tells her it sounds too rude or maybe not right, what if they feel bad? What if they read in between the lines? They cant see her vulnerable side.

Sudden calls from strangers scare her to death,do they expect a specific reply? Is hmm and haan and okay and yeah, fine? What if they feel she is not contributing to the conversation at all,her heart comes to her mouth, she feels like 1 year old, she babbles or mumbles or at times is inaudiblely loud.

At times,she is sure of her mind, sure of the things she has to say and feels about the people around, yes doubts and fear cross her mind, but her heart comes to resuce those times.

The others, her heart plays tricks on her mind, for it doesn’t understand the difference between infatuation or lust, confuses it with love and keeps her awake all night.

Yes she overthinks, she has scales of measurement for this overthinking too, a bit done every now and then seems fine, she takes overthinking breaks in between her day, thinks about the topic from all the sides and even tho the stimulus is out of her sight it still revolves in her mind.

Is it yes or was it no?”

She dislikes the term in between and people giving her ambiguous hues. She likes weird and confusing things for sure,

The puzzle the daily crossword, the sudoku hurl, the Rubik’s cube, confusing it may be for others but she’d try all the combinations and solve it overnight, and if not, then mess up the code and add more sequences to her plight.

At times she is nervous and shy,like the naive Caterpillar that transforms into a beautiful butterfly, she is oh so cautious and alert of her moves, never to harm a soul and usually complies.

The others she is bold and scary they say, like the moth, that’s as dark as the ruinous sky, you’d shoo her off, so that she doesn’t ruin your cashmere shawl overnight,

She’s reckless and wild, is attracted to dangerous people who often hurt her or leave her in the absence of light, is attracted to the feral fire that could burn her core, yet she wishes to go near it, to warm her numb soul.

…..

Life for her is a puzzle,

one cannot fathom right away

It is never truly black nor white,

At times it’s blue and purple, red and grey,

So arrange every piece that comes your way,

And that’s how she lives her life, everyday.

To the girl whom he next meets,

He’s weird, impulsive, shy and quiet,
At times he’ll remind you of your strict pt sir,
Who’ll make you run an extra round for being late,
so that you get disciplined in life.
At times he’d be your English professor,
Who’s jolly and funny, will help you in your work, but takes life very seriously,
Who’s patient and oh very polite.

He replies back in minutes few,
His vocabulary is a mirror of his favourite shows,
That’s what she said, ‘noice’ and his pun jokes,
You’ll get so accustomed to them, don’t be surprised if you end up typing cool five times in a row.

He seems uninterested, I know,
for he never texts you first,
But start a discussion on any topic, new,
From soulmates, to love, marriage and divorce,
Law and crime, ask him his political views,
Or how the men in red won the Friday night live.

He will always share his opinions openly,
and those opposing views of yours,
he’ll respect those too.

Yes there are times, when his overthinking comes alive,
He’d question your motive behind these conversations,
His replies would then be prompt as his lawyer skills come to rescue,
It’d be impossible to win against him
And his childish hues,

Whatever, don’t blame me,

Oh I never fight, that’s you!

But don’t worry, he loves to crib like this all the time,
He’d pretend to be mean and rude, but then he cares,
Just doesn’t know how to handle his emotions, new.

But one thing he dislikes, more than momos and Janice,
Are confrontations and fights,
Don’t confront him with feelings, emotions or drama new,
He’d then run back to his humble cave
And you’d never hear from him, ever again.

For it’s over, right?

But don’t be surprised, if you find his snaps after a few days, he’d ask ambiguous questions too, to test you.
he’d ask you about his beard, his new hairstyle :

Does this seem fine?

Is stopping here the right choice?

Don’t worry, he likes to challenge the person,
To tease them, to give them a fair fight,
Just keep yourself strong, be patient with him

For he’d be the best thing that would ever happen to thee!

Yours truly,

The girl he never loved

Poem 48#

They all love the red rose,
Tell me,
They are allured by his aura so bright.
His soft petals, they adore,
It’s vibrant hue, they match with their core.
But his thorns they pluck aside.
For it pins the wound, they wish to ignore.

Yet I can’t stop loving his thorns,
The sweet pain,
It makes my numb heart, alive.

I hide him away from the world, undisclosed.
He rests,
In between the crevices of my grim diary,
One filled with dried ink and lost hope.

For,
Mum told me,
That one day I shall throw him out of my sight,
Will stop loving it’s thorns.
Stop checking up on him.
In time, he will die.

Yet everytime I try to keep the rose away from me,
I feel like the naive bird,
Who flutters in the direction unknown,
Until her debilitated heart can no more explore,
It aches to go home,to her abode.

Mum found my diary, tonight,
She threw him away
Out of her sight.
For she said
It was
for the best,my child.

And now,

We both die,

Little by little,

Under the moon’s glint light.