My umbrella

It rains not every single day,

I forget you’re even there,

Safely resting 

In a forgotten corner

Of my little bag;

You’re my umbrella,

Shielding me

From all the pain

That life showers upon me;

You’re my umbrella,

Shielding me from the sun,

Lest my skin get tan;

You’re my umbrella,

Under which I can hide my tears

Or peel away the everyday facade

Of happiness;

You’re my umbrella,

Although I don’t require one everyday,

I know you’re there, always.

You’re my umbrella, father,

You’re the haven that I always look for.


Vulnerable

Loneliest of all,

Having no one to listen

To the grief, the sorrow,

Having no one who gives a damn,

Having a friend

Or a person

In life,

Who wants to know

The reason

Behind this loneliness,

This moment of weakness,

This moment 

Where any stranger

Can enter

And disrupt the routine

Of an already uneventful life,

Is the most frightening of all.

Being vulnerable to love,

Talks of consolation,

Melting for a tiny word,

Hanging onto it for support,

Believing it would last forever

Is what puts things

Upside down.

The lonely tree


Like the lonely tree

Who tried to survive

The scorching sun

Of the south,

I see you

As you struggle, as your leaves fall,

One by one

And yet, you never lean 

Onto someone.

Like the pitiful, undernourished tree

You need love,

Care,

You have to open up,

Take in the air around you,

And cherish every little breath

So you don’t perish

In this desert

Where you will never be found again,

Where you will be eaten whole.

Do not trudge away,

Lean on me, I shall support you,

Do not walk away

To an unknown place

Because no one else cares much

But me.

The daughter who never cared

​I wake up from a cozy bed,

Miles away, you wake up from the ground;

I idle around for a while,

Overcoming your tiredness, you stand;

I get dressed and walk to gym

You start with your daily chores;

I get ready to office,

Without even the strength to stand, you cook;

I go sit in a fully air conditioned place,

You’re done in the afternoon.

I eat lunch,

You eat your breakfast-cum-lunch;

I go back to my cozy cubicle,

You still have work to do.

And with your injured leg,

You do all of this,

As I enjoy my life

As if you’re​ not at all suffering,

As if this feeling of guilt

Never exists,

As if I never feel like coming back home

To help you,

To do all the work,

To let you relax,

To make your daily life…

A bit more easier.

I never am blessed

With the gift

Of serving you,

Taking care of you,

And I stand in utter shame

As I am unable

To make your daily life…

A bit more easier.

Will I ever

Get to rest in peace?

This is in the POV of Ms.K, the neighbour I’d always observe and write about. She and her father had a fight yesterday, and she was shouting so loud that I could hear what it was about. She lives alone in a different place, and had come to visit her parents yesterday. Their father is very simple, and yet egoistic. So is she. Theirs is one ego-filled family, for sure.

Independent

​Never let someone

Do something

For your benefit


Because, as time flies,

You have to remain grateful

And abide by their opinions


Just because

You feel like

You owe them.


Never take anything

From someone

When you’re in need


Adjust with what

You already have

In your safe.


Because, sometimes

When you owe them,

It feels desperate.


Never let anyone else pay

When your wallet 

Is with you.

 

Because, people owing you money

Is always better,

Than you owing them.


Never ask anyone

For any help

Of any sort.


Because, at the end,

There will be no one to do your work,

But you.


Never let anyone

Ridicule you, or sarcastically comment

Even as a friend


Because, you, as a person

Have a self-esteem 

That rockets to the sky.


Never let anyone

Get close to you

Till the inner depths of the heart


Because, in the end,

Everyone disappoints,

And disappears.


Never let anyone

Console you

Even when you’re desperate.


Because that shows

You’re weak

And not what you seem to be.


Though you look like

An entirely different person,

That’s acceptable.


Reveal your true self

Only to the few trusted ones,

Or maybe not.


Because even they,

In the end 

Will vanish, you will see.


Because life gives people

Many other people 

To think about.


And you will never be

The center of attention

For anyone.


Some days,

You will never be missed,

Cared, or loved.


Some days are different,

When people flow in

And shower their love.


And when no one dares to trudge inside

The ever-turbulent, constantly wavering tide

Of the heart, after dark


Do you get to know

The true façade of

Loneliness.


Because, you see,

You should never let people

Do what you were supposed to do.


People will sometimes

Never even pretend

To care.


Because, you are independent

Have always been,

And that’s exactly what is expected of you.

This emptiness

​In this emptiness,

That has developed

A crack

In the window

Of my soul,

I seek

To tame

The beast inside,

As my mind

Searches the one thing

That keeps me sane

In this sea

Of chaos,

Of uncertainty,

Of all the unloved days,

Looking for a flicker

Of light, or of hope

In the dark

Of my heart

As memories fade,

And times change

People fall in and out

Of the velvety place

Of the heart

Where they have stayed

And during this period

Of emptiness,

They’ve all treaded out

With heavy shoes

Causing pain

And have not returned;

And in this emptiness,

I shall strive

To find myself,

Save myself,

While this void extends 

To the end

Of the horizon,

Where the molten lava

Eats up my fears

Alive.

Where there is salvation,

Where my heart 

Becomes pure,

Where I can forget

All sorrows

And drown

Into the fiery liquid

That consumes me entirely;

When I can finally

Be at peace.

Someone to care

​As thunder struck by my windowsill,

I looked through the window,

And wondered where you are.


Droplets touched the earth below

In a hectic frenzy

Probably searching for you.


The lightning was bright and tall,

Frequently disturbing the black

Looking in the dark for you.


The storm lasted the whole night

Waves of the sea thrashing on the shore,

Desperately for you.


The rain finally receded,

Thinking, it might, with its cold raindrops,

Drench you.


A dull sun came up next morning,

As it mourned, for you

Hiding behind the clouds.


But none of them know the truth

But I; that you’re otherworldly,

You don’t exist.


Still, a tiny flame of hope 

Lights my dark heart

An irrational one, for sure.


That I can reach the sky,

Touch the clouds,

And find you.


What others have failed,

I will do.

I will finally find you.


What is a figment of my imagination

Will one day be true,

That’s when this emptiness ends.

Interval

​This interval is what bothers me.

The minutes that follow,

The silence that settles,

The confusion, the chaos..

Every mistake, 

Resounding like an echo;

And as the end of every week

Or month

Draws near,

And expectations arise,

And memories conjured

Of happy moments

Seeming like things of the past,

Like pieces of a mirror

Reflecting a broken self;

And coming back

To this interval

That follows.


Like a trench in the ocean

Seeming long forgotten

But always looked out for,

As time flies by,

This interval grows;

On the other side of this interval,

Is hope, 

Of a renewed friendship,

Of bonds of eternal care;

And I shall wait,

Silently,

In awkwardness and guilt,

For what I’ve done,

Trapped in this interval

Of nothingness

That will extend 

Until what seems

Like the end of time.