Sunflower columns invade my windows
I welcome them with broken bars
My human grass in goosebumps, dancing
Oh, the maddening beauty of this world
Remember when we swore it’s pointless,
Linked arms and drank away our hate?
We lived in spite but ah well, my friend
At least I’ve lived to see this day.
It hurts sometimes, it hurts a lot
You remember when you had thought of leaving
So-and-so does this-or-that
Our sunflowers droop and weep perhaps
For unfinished memory to fill the gaps
Of what we wanted the world to be
The flowers are so wild today
Shots fired within my hollow shell
The flowers make me bloom, unruly
My stoic heart is moved, it sways
Where shall I go, through the windows unbarred?
Dig beauty like golden soil unearthed?The world is so mesmerizing
My melancholy swoons, declining
I am just a girl in love.
I remember an evening when my feet kissed the damp soil
My long dark hair flowing down in glossy coils
The earth being passed on to summer from spring
Aroma of baby mangoes and the cuckoos’ calling
A garland of fresh white jasmines pinned to my hair
A trail of the scent followed me everywhere.
I carried a large book in my arms
It told me tales of uncountable charms;
In our garden I spent my evening
Reading about kingdoms and kings
Time stopped yet flew as ever.
Each moment I delightfully savoured.
I imagined myself trapped, like the princess
In the tower, the damsel in distress,
I could almost see my prince slay the beast
The story ended with our wedding feast.
I remember the evening when I closed my book of tales
And returned to my dingy room, untidy and stale
Maa and Baba raising their voices across the thin walls
Happily ever after, I knew, was false
Maa chided me for reading fairy tales
She said it was time for me to read something else
After all I was a girl growing up
And dreaming was indeed not enough.
I put away the book one day
To ground myself in reality.
Days and years and lives have passed
I wonder if I did grow up.
I say I don’t believe in fate
But deep inside I think I may
I’ll tell no one, but I think I’ll wait
For my saviour, my soulmate.
“Who will be my home?” Everyone looks outside the window and asks. But I can’t remember what a home is, Is it my mind, my body, my family, my city, my country? I’ve been a stranger everywhere, Often enough to ask like a little child What is a home? Home is the person you love, they say, The person you return to after a day of rain and hailstorms, The arms you hide inside when the world comes out to swallow you whole. It’s not that I don’t know what a home is I can’t feel it. All I can understand with my massive joke of a brain Are stories. You and I, we’re stories, we’ve always been Some are more than that, they are dreams. Therefore I’ve stopped searching for a home (After years of walking along aimless alleys and lanes which lead nowhere) I’ll start stringing words and actions into tales Only hoping they’ll connect me to a story that I can call mine So the next time I put on sad, soothing music And look out of the window I’ll ask “Who will be my story?”
Nobody told me how to look up From the road filled with grey, Stretching and stretching into eternity And look into the world Into People. Sheer crowds of them Moving in a steady fast pace
I lock my eyes with a man and my heart leaps Not in joy, There are no butterflies in my stomach No love in my heart My heart leaps like I’d like to leap into an abyss. The glance of the man Lasts only for a fraction of a second He looks away And I start looking at myself What did he see? That fraction of a second costs me a lifetime Of mapping my body, my gestures, my posture Measuring what I am and what I should be Measuring to fit in But sticking out like a sore thumb.
Nobody told me how to look straight Into the mirror And not want to be someone else. I resist the urge to shatter it into pieces The glass is spotless and devoid of cracks I am not No one is.
I lock my eyes with myself I travel back in time to all the promises I had made Pointing fingers at the mirror Pep-talk for the self. The mirror stays at the same place Neither have I gone any further Only the years have gone by. The one standing on the other side calls me a liar and a cheat I admit defeat And put out the lights.
Nobody told me how to look down Into the screen And not compare myself to every standard set. Scrolling up and down Sighs of despair and unfulfillment Oh the disparity.
I lock my eyes with the girl on the screen With eyes as blue as the times when I’m feeling down Figure as enchanting as non-existence is to me Skin as smooth as the paper I accidentally cut my fingertip with Smile as bright as sun on a scorching summer day. Even while I fight the Euro-centric bias Perpetuated in our minds I wonder why some get to be so perfect And more importantly, Why some get to decide what’s perfect.
Nobody told me how to look inside Get out of my head And get over myself.
On some days, I close my eyes- And it becomes a summer evening. I laugh and smile like only children can afford to, Fresh green grass tickles my tiny bare feet. I sit on the swing, my eyes steadfast on the golden sky Gearing up to reach as high as I can To outdo my brother Who got bored of swinging And is now playing football in the other half of the park. The evening smells like dirt, Sounds like mosquitoes, And feels like a breeze. As the sky turns into ink, Birds begin to hurry like pedestrians in a busy city, Returning to their nests; And the two of us return home To watch some cartoons, Have some snacks, And fight over both.
On some days, I close my eyes- And I’m in a classroom Blue walls, blue desks, grey floor and a blackboard A trail of words leaving the teacher’s lips And going straight out of the window like unruly toddlers crawling too fast; Every head is either dozing off or buzzing with mischief. A girl secretly holds her boyfriend’s hands under the desk And everyone within a three meter radius Throws them a knowing smirk. Five minutes till recess- becomes a reason enough to be stupidly happy Although my friends and I have only been playing games, Cracking jokes, and doodling all over The precious last pages of the notebook. The long-awaited bell rings loud and clear, Followed by an epidemic of smile and relief.
On some days, I close my eyes- And I don’t want to open them again. Everyone seems out of reach Every situation, out of hand. I open my eyes and shut them again To remember the times When the world wasn’t upside down to me When happiness was so real that I could almost touch it When I was enough for myself. Maybe I still am- There’s a breeze outside The birds still return home tweeting goodnight And the bell hasn’t rung yet All I can do is keep scribbling on the last few pages of my notebook And everything will be fine.
mimimusing 