Let’s get lost in the city.
We can’t count the stars
Because the smoky clouds have won.
We have lost-
Ourselves
But not our dreams, not yet.
Your eyes have all the stars I need
My dreams are all yours,
Let’s paint our passions together
Into a pretty rainbow
And the smog will be lifted.
The city is sometimes so grey
Straight lines,
Boxes…
Traps?
The skyline is mapped out in sharp angles
The round sunset is such a sight.
Let’s count the people,
How they speed up their lives.
Find leisure in a city dweller’s paradise.
No one seems to remember their dreams,
The dreams that drove them here.
Running for life, they run away,
Round and round in circles.
The watchful city smirks.
Exhausting landscapes and construction sites
Grow, grow, grow
Metropolitan giant,
Grow but don’t eat up our dreams.
I won’t look at the shabby alleys
The slums we pretend don’t exist
I swear I’ll gaze at the palacial malls
And forget the flaws of the city.
I was born here
I know how a city crushes someone’s hopes
While nurturing another’s.
Let’s get lost in this city again
Sacrificing our bodies and souls
To the urban gods
And maybe one day
The city will listen to us,
The city will care,
Embrace,
Love,
And the city will be all ours.
Stop the goddamn music
Just stop it.
No I don’t want to dance
My body rejects your happy beats
The lyrics don’t talk to me
Who are they made for?
My ears have been fed with generic
Western music
Bollywood
Bengali songs
And every time you play a song
My linguistic identities change.
Who the fuck am I?
In what language do I love?
Or exist?
English is too formal
A dress which I once borrowed for a day
And never returned.
Hindi is an ornament I bought for myself
Only worn on special occasions.
Bengali? It was always with me
Restricted reach, taken for granted
Nothing too special.
I’m sorry
It’s not your fault that
My ears are repulsed
By every tongue I know
Since I know not which one is mine.
They say
Learn the language of love
What the fuck is that, pray?
I’m sorry I’m angry
At myself, really
Confusion is choking me
That’s the only sound I hear.
Did you put on another song?
Thanks for holding my hand.
I used to be bored by instrumentals,
I never knew
That’s how music truly speaks.
Perhaps,
I don’t need a language anymore.
I wished I were like you
Long haired, dreamy eyed
Graceful like a princess
Always smelling like a garden
Your chocolate complexion
Beckoning the sun to shine upon your skin.
I can look at you for hours
Would you mind?
No, you wouldn’t
You’re too kind to shun me.
Even though I offer bland company
You smile at my attempts to make you grin.
I wished I were like you
Your dewy face lighting up with glee
Always chirping like a little bird
Hopping in circles
Among your vast group of friends.
They adore you, and so do I,
Desperately wanting to be your chum.
Have a place for a boring mate?
I wish I could tell you
How stunning you looked
When you dyed your cropped hair blue.
I wished I were like you
A cool guy never losing his calm
Compassionate but funny
Tall, charming and goofy
Always entertaining your buddies
And stealing girls’ hearts.
I admire you
Your look of not-a-care-in-this-world
Careful not to brandish your deeds of help.
A true gentleman
A real friend.
I wished I were like you
Everyone knows your name
The gem of our college
Excelling in every sphere
How do you manage?
Guitar, basketball, debates
Even elocution and drama
You are everywhere, man.
It’s intimidating, honestly
But it must be great being you
A blessed amalgamation of virtues
You’re an example to follow,
My mother is proud that I am your classmate.
I wished I were like so many others
People I know
People I don’t
People I imagine.
Oh how I wished I were not me.
It’s different now,
Now that she has told me
She wished she were like me.
She, who I thought was the happiest soul,
The embodiment of perfection.
The grass is always greener on the other side.
You can’t escape yourself,
Because you aren’t meant to.
I wanted to write another poem and was hesitating if I should write anything but poetry in my blog ( being a newbie blogger I’m nervous anyway) but I decided that a little insight into my prosaic life does not deserve poetry.
So here I am, a second year undergrad student of English Literature from a city named Kolkata in India, trying out blogging despite being cynical about it. Who even reads these days? I honestly wonder. I used to be such an avid reader (although I gorged on thrillers and not true literary pieces) but now I just can’t seem to concentrate on any book, write-up, and so on-nothing captivates me, and I feel that this happens with all of us now.
Our attention spans are shrinking too fast, we are a generation of bored people. Or is it just me? I love it when someone is often excited about a book, or a TV show or a poem or a song- just about anything at all- because I miss feeling that way. It’s very rarely that I get excited about anything like that- and it is the best feeling ever.
I even dread conversations because I’m always afraid of boring the others. I can’t figure out what to talk about? I have been told to speak more but I keep running round and round in the vicious cycle of-should I call it-shyness? Social anxiety? Whatever it is, it kills all words that dare to come out of my lips. As if, I try to push the words outside of my body but the words come running back inside like scared little children. I know this is stupid, people will not probably hate me if I talk to them, but I get a feeling that I have nothing worthwhile to contribute to any conversation-so why waste words? In the span of a year, thanks to my shyness, I have had a proper conversation with hardly half a dozen people in my university.
There’s another side of the same coin-I get bored by other people easily. It’s a paradoxical feeling- I believe they are cooler, smarter and more eloquent than me, yet I mostly don’t want to listen to them. In the end I end up not talking to anyone at all. I am happy in my own company, but sometimes it does get lonely.
Things are looking up since I am actively making an effort to talk to others. Technically my second year has not yet begun, and I hope that this year is going to bring me a lot more smiles 🙂
I am again afraid of boring you, reader, so I’ll end my piece, but on a less-whiny, happier note. Here’s a picture of a temporary tattoo I drew at a tattoo art competition at uni (the topic was stardust). I stood second (because not many participated XD ) and so it’s a good memory of my first year.
Think of dreams and smile at memes, reader, and we’ll meet again.
mimimusing 