Finding Solace 

You watch the day rise and the darkness fade, without a blink

You have stood there for years hoping to find a way, an inspiration, a solace, a lost dream, a fading hope

You stand there still – broken, tired, hurt

Holding on to the strength you have left

It is unfortunate and maybe a bit ironic

As I stand on the other end as helpless as you

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Conversations 

I constantly catch myself wondering if our conversations will one day seize to exist. 

That, one day we will have nothing to share, nothing to tell and nothing to hear. 

That, one day we will once again become the strangers we were a long time ago. 

It does not bother me that we will never evolve into something more. 

It does not bother me that we will never get to hold each other as we grow. 

It does not bother me that we will never be able to express our feelings in those varied overrated words. 

But, I live in fear that our conversations might dissipate in the vast space of oblivion. That bothers me.

And yet I believe that someday, in a small café or a dingy bar, in an unventured land we might accidentally bump into each other and begin again. 

Photographs 

Waking up in the morning, breathing in the fresh musty, chemical infused air that surrounds me after a night long affair with the pictures hung on strands of thread in the beautiful red dark room.

I run my eyes slowly over each and every photograph. Oh, the immeasurable happiness, the joy of a smile or the ache of the occasional tear drop frozen in time.

As the negatives change from monochrome to the wondrous colors of the spectrum – I stand there mesmerized like a child at the airport watching a plane take off.

A 10 x 10 room never felt more spacious. Each corner wrapped in frames that takes life in different dimensions. A story to tell, a story to remember.

Dodging and burning the photographs, I blink.

BANG! A hidious, unethical knock.

I squint, the red dark room is suddenly full of cheap florescent lights. I feel like an abandoned baby at a solemn, monotonous hospital nursery.

The strands of thread that once hung the slices of life; fades to white and slowly to nothingness. My 10 x 10 room now seems smaller than a coffin.

My eyes, red and heavy from lack of a good night sleep. The four corners have disappeared into large walls of plaster. The room smells different too – it feels clean, without any tales to tell.

Mouth stiched like an ancient mummy doomed to rot, I want to scream as I watch the photographs being sweeped away by the wind. Outside the window where they don’t belong, as I lie in the hospital cot, hooked up to machines that now, somehow keep me alive.

For what I long

A feeling of frustration resides.
Stuck in a limbo, do not know where to go.
It is dark, don’t know whom to turn.
I am alone and my thoughts my demons.
Empty inside, I want to feel something.
But, I don’t know what I long to feel.
The world around me is moving fast.
I can’t breath.
The coffin I am in seems to be closing in with every inching moment.
I am a fish out of water, someone throw me in.
Give a reason to cry. Give me chance to smile.
Words are all that I have left. I think. Wish I knew how to use them.
It is hard to chase what you can’t find.
I have lost my way, guide me to light.

Minute

Give me a moment. Make it stop. Push the button and let it all halt.

Let me breathe. Let me savour the fire inside of me that you all want to pour water over.

One more minute, let me laugh. Let me feel my pains wash off.

One more minute, let me rejoice, an exquisite kiss or a warm embrace. 

One more minute, let me be, the person who I am meant to be.

Before you begin to stifle my dreams, give me a moment to fall off the cliff and take the risk.

Allow me to soak up every second of the fleeting tik-tok. 

Let me vanish among the stars just for – three, two, one more minute. 

That is all I ask.

Finding peace

Most nights I lie on my bed and look out of the window and stare at the big bright moon, slowly moving out of the window frame with the ticking time. And I wonder to myself, why do I feel so restless, among the silence that surrounds me. Eventually, after hours of fight and convincing myself to sleep, when I finally close my eyes, I am filled with memories of the past.

I lie still reliving what it was and what it is not. I cling on to my pillow hoping it would comfort me, just like all the times you held me close and told me “There is no better place where I would be than here…” Your sound echos loudly in my sub conscious. And as I take a deep breath, I am overwhelmed by how well I can recall your smell, it is almost like you are right beside me.

Thinking, brooding, imagining and reliving each memory I fall asleep. And as I get up next morning…the first thing that strikes my senses, is the dream I had from last night, where I was yours and you were mine!

art

This picture is a copyright of Srijita Chattopadhyay.

Pitter Patter

Sitting beside the window, sipping my hot cup of coffee,

I see it pour, drenching the entire city in a beauty so serine.

The cars on the road honking, and the pedestrians living their daily life under their different coloured umbrellas.

I watch the old banyan tree cleansing the world’s dust from itself, looking wiser than all the other trees around.

The small puddle of water in the middle of the street, is playing with the young girls as they walk by.

I close my eyes and hear the rain, the musical pitter patter.

The faint smell of freshly wet mud fills the air,

as the morning shower comes to an end.

And as I get up to get ready to start my day,

I fog up the window and draw a heart…

ImageRaindrops over my window