Enstrangled.

 1,2,3, and... Get Up. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

No wait up, go back, you missed the 1st step.

In and out. Come on, babies and oldies do it

What do you mean you can feel a noose around your neck?

Hey, there. Keep your head above water. Just paddle , just float.

Does it REALLY matter that you're small and the water's 10 feet deep?

Life's all about the ups and downs, the drama, the stories

Not having fun? Oh, you could always just go back to sleep.

Always interesting when you're taught to have a voice and then taught not to voice what you're thinking

Being thirsty but you can never find a water bottle in sight

Stuck in a 4-walled padded cell, there's no window for any air

But isn't your imagination magic? Your strength? Your might?

Is it work? Is that why you're wearing charred clothes with soot in your hair, outside the chosen few?

 Maybe, just maybe, you're not cut out for it at all.

Maybe you need to know your place, curled up in the cold

You know the floor is always there to catch you when you fall

Why does it hurt to swallow? Is it someone's hand, your anxiety or too many jobs?

Is the hand imprint theirs or yours or not there?

Is it work that will save you or crush you or just co-exist?

Has someone told you it's fun to start pulling out your hair?

I don't mind it if friends call me bitch, or mad, or a beggar

I suppose it really depends on how you say it, the tone of voice

But when you're on the floor, covered in broken pieces of glass and water

How you remember those words, it's not really an active choice

Where's home? Where's not home? Are there any directions to safety?

Or anywhere where it constantly isn't so fluctuating, unpredictable and loud

You expected celebration? Sorry love, you've entered the wrong party

Even in a locked box, if you can hear your demons, or your loved ones, it's a crowd

Who do you love? Who do you hate? Who do you like?

What would you rate yourself as a friend to you, out of 10?

They say the sun shines after storms, cyclones,floods and hurricanes

Sure I'll get an answer, a break, ray of sunshine, but when?

Have you heard the story of that idiot who ate rat poison and then got an epidural?

Burning and pain and numbness and nothing as such

Why can't they leave you? Why are their tears louder than yours?

Can someone tell me what I'm feeling, when I am feeling so much?

Let Me Not Forget Your Voice

Soft hands, round arms, dainty fingers
Always writing something down, or ending books, turning page after page
Stern eyebrows, over not-so-stern twinkling eyes
Lips of mischief, ready to open in laughter or contort in mock rage.
Ever the watchful hawk, to make sure you've eaten twice your own body weight
Plates of Maggi and Mangsho, fried chillies or large rosogollas in tiny bowls
The friend to whom you could confide secrets, or the saviour from parental outbursts
If you finished the toothpaste, she could fulfil any role.
From the art of storytelling to that of enacting drama
Where would you find love so encompassing, so heart-warming, like hugs from all around
But the night before exams, lo and behold, your most ruthless schoolteacher
To keep you up and going, her ingenuity knew no bounds.
Your life's first teddy bear in live and human form
The one who could teach the world a thing or two about grace
Gone with the wind, so easily? So suddenly?
Will I never again be able to see her face?
Didn't the ink from the pen stop a bit too prematurely?
Didn't the candle go out a lot before than it should?
Who directs this movie? He said "Cut" way too early
How can one snatch one's right to know what's the ending;
This is sudden. This is rude.
Maybe leaving was a better option, you didn't want to be waited on
Maybe you were tired of the endless ICU beeps
But love beats logic every single time, this is a relationship, this isn't chess
Us mortal beings.tried to hold on to you, as long as we could keep.
Nothing justifies the Superwoman, herself an word artist extraordinaire,
A poetess, an authoress, oh, she made songs with our names
Everyone's favourite fairy Godmother
Without her, where's the magic? It will never be the same.
The cold wedge in one's sternum, the generalised mental ache and breathlessness,
When the grief is too raw to touch and is a store of suppressed fear
Let her be safe, let her be free, let  her not be suffering, let her be happy
Let her be unaffected by our screams and tears.
Heaven gained an angel, but we gave her up unwillingly
Nonetheless, she reigns as our all-time Saviour Supreme
Thank you for the life lessons and sharing your fruit and nut chocolate,
Here's my pronaam
Goodnight for now, my Didama, sweet dreams.

To All The Boys I Loved Before

You know the thing about heartbreak, it's actually a funny thing
Hearts can't really break, can they? Can the muscles tear?
It's not all tears and slit wrists and broken mirrors as teens used to handle it back in the day
It's just sharp stabs internally, but it shouldn't be something you can't bear.
The problem with love is that there are so many types of love around
You feel them, you believe them, it's not the sappy type like in songs
Friendly, platonic, soul-sharing, 12 am texting, and yes romantic
24 yrs and still smile, tick the box, is this right or wrong?
Maybe I should start with the obvious one
Yes you, you big well read marshmallow covered in tar
Friends, lovers, fellow well wishers, so much more and so less
Maybe the new languages are keeping us apart
But it's like clockwork, romantic changes to pedantic, changes to platonic, changes to semantic
There's always love and shouldn't that be enough?
It is, so the heartbreak sort of commiserates the friendship
There's a difference between tough love and when love is tough.
Next comes you, the one with the same picture, but differently sized jigsaw pieces
The soul-searching, mind-lurching, with a story way too similar to mine
Several brain-storming, painforming sessions later, suddenly there's Grand Canyon
Too fond of your stage name, now your reality is a lie?
This love was the We Get This, We Feel This, We Know This kind
Not the We Show This and that's far too ok
Friends and secret keepers, then you lose the key to each other's portals
Are you really that upset we have different routes along the same way?
Finally comes Prince Charming, the one whom dreams are made of
If Happily Ever After were ever personified as a boy
2 decades, 2 titillating experiences and 2000 words later,
It was never meant to be, was basically the point of the ploy
Maybe it's not your fault, the idea of you was sparklier than you yourself
But Life decided to work in such mysterious ways
It threw us together, close enough to see but not enough to reach
I still wonder what was the point of those promises to this day.
Experiences are what make you, what mould you, what break you
And yes, there will be always be someone in mind during a certain song, movie or place
Life's that much more interesting because it all happened
Though now, all memorized, maybe I want to live at my own pace.
But that's not what the point of this is, at least
It's a tribute to the different types of love and to the three of you
I wish you all the best, you don't need it, you're all rising stars
Thanks for the life lessons, now I know, I'm a rising star too.

The Opposite Of Wonderland

The elevator clangs shut and you're off with a start

Breath hitched, eyes wide open, and an overactive heart 

You wait in silence, waiting for "Action" to play your next part.

You're not alone, there's a dark figure, face hidden in black seams

The Grim Reaper? Not Pixar, more likely the type to haunt one's dreams

Not everything works out exactly as it seems.

"Where are we going?," you ask to fill the blank space

It looks at you and your pulse begins to race

The elevator jumbles along at its own sweet pace.

"Elm Street on cocaine, are you ready to see?"

A never-ending nightmare, is that It's specialty?

It smiles, the air is colder, and you can smell the pity.

Enough. You decide. You won' let uncertainty soar.

Hot rage fills you up and it's not so chilly in the lift anymore 

"As much as you are", you declare with your eyes set on the door.

It's surprised. "Aren't you scared of the monsters beneath your bed?"

You reply, " The living are much more terrifying than the dead"

It recoils, leaving words better left unsaid.

Now you've said things in a loud voice, but about that you're not so sure 

You've figured out where you're headed to, you know there's no cure

A labyrinth of sorts, chances of survival obscure.

You realise you two are alone, It and you

But It's an expert and you're the one with absolutely no clue 

But you keep your head up, that's the right thing to do.

You wonder if in some part of the world, if it's already night 

The ride seems to be ending, the speed decelerations slight

Your adrenaline starts pumping, you tense for a fight.

It strikes you that this is all some elaborate test 

The competition is between the  'worst' and the 'best'

It notices your mixed feelings and starts summoning  the rest.

You're suddenly static, a voice says " Welcome to Purgatory, hello".

The doors open and you see nothing as far as your eyes can go

"Scared?", It smirks and you decide to venture first with a "Oh Hell? No".

You step out,  insides quaking but outwardly what a smile

Let them never say you were anything short of a missile

Doors close, you're left alone, looks like you'll be there for a while.

It's cold and dark and damp, you feel goosebumps on your skin

But this is some instruction-less battle that you're determined to win

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, "Let the game begin."

Sunflowers and Roses

Once upon a time, there was a flower,
Some called her Sunflower, some called her Rose,
She didn't really know what the difference was and didn't care,
But didn' these humans have eyes and a nose?
So she began living this dual identity,
She always got a lot of attention you see,
A new day, a new customer, no matter who she was,
They always seemed to think she was lovely.
She loved the adulation, and soon she realized,
She could put on an act, a star performance, what a role!
Every single day, people would want her for so many reasons,
To be ever loved was her only goal.
Sunflower, she was so cheery, dazzling, happy, bright
Best friend of the instagramer's new aesthetic;
While as Rose, she'd find her way through poetry and apologies,
Why did the mere sight of her make the situation more romantic?
The best part was that she didn't have to pick a side,
Wouldn't 'they' always cherish and adore her?
She didn't know her admirers by name or face
But being forgotten was a pain she surely wouldn't suffer?
Alas! Storms ahead, one day, there was a lot of rain
She fell to the ground, in terror did she shudder
"Help me!", she cried to her suddenly absent fan following
Ignored? Unheard? She was swept towards the gutter.
She didn't know where she was, it was so dark and cold
She shivered, she had been there for a while,
Then a tiny ray of light permeated through, there was a puddle
She looked to it with a dash of hope and a smile.
"I'll finally know who I am and the world will remember me!"
She struggled and crawled with such great haste
A surge of adrenaline came and went as she saw her reflection
Gasped aloud, was it all a mistake, a waste?
A brown, folded floral being looked right back at her
And then she realized something, was it philosophy or a fact?
Beauty does lie in the eyes of the beholder,
But when they don't even see you, it's the end of that.

Black.

He could hear the jeers from all around him. He could hear laughter, hear their mocking voices.  He was frightened. He felt so self-conscious. Every move was being watched and judged. He wanted to cry. But he was too embarrassed too. It wasn't expected of him. Everyone gets into such situations. A warm, red , sickening feeling washed over him and made him shiver. He didn't know that shame could be so all-consuming. He stood up and put the cap of his hoodie on to block out the noise. What else could he do?

She was tied up in chains. It didn't help her claustrophobia that the place she was trapped in was the size of a coffin. She could feel panic hit her and threaten to come out in the form of screams. But what if nobody heard her? What if they did, and didn't care? She had tried calling for help some time back, when she heard footsteps above her head, but no help had come. What if she used up all the oxygen in that cramped place while shouting? She didn't even remember when or how she came to be where she was. For some reason,  she couldn't even remember the world outside The box. The endless "what-ifs" made her feel sick. She pressed her lips together and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to suppress the uncontrollable sobs that made every inch of  her body shudder. What else could she do?

He was in deep water. Literally. He was drowning.   As he thrashed about in the water helplessly, he could see the lifeguards speed past him on their water scooters to check on those who went too far. But they didn't stop to check on him. They assumed that he could take care of himself as he was wearing a lifeguard vest too. But somehow the waves had a wicked plan of their own. They kept pulling him down. He tried to fight, but it was a losing battle.  The water started making his eyes burn and got into his nose . He was choking. He was always a struggler, so he kept trying his best, to save himself. Nobody else would.  What else could he do?

She was running. She was trying to escape. She was disoriented but she knew that she would be ok if she made it out of there. But it was so dark. And so cold. And she didn't know where she was and where she would find safety. On top of that, the sheet of plastic wrapped around her nose, throat and chest hurt and made it difficult to breathe. Every breath she took made the plastic constrict even more tightly . She tried to take it off but it wouldn't budge. She could hear them coming. So she kept trying to run. Her eyes were watering with the pain and she felt dizzy due to the lack of oxygen. But she kept running, trying to ignore the voice in her head which kept repeating that inevitably , she would probably get lost and run into her captor's clutches.  She tripped and fell , but kept crawling forward, ignoring the stabbing pain in her chest. She had to keep moving to better her chances. What else could she do?



#/The only things in common with the above four were that they were alone in their rooms, and couldn't sleep with the lights off. Because bad dreams happen when one is asleep. But nightmares? They are terrifying because they are lived. Depression is felt, when one lives in it and cannot find a way out of the umbra.  Darkness is devastating, as it lives in, and affects people, in broad daylight./#

Invi(N)sible

Stop. Make it stop. The constant humbum and colossal collundrum of Life sure takes a toll on those who are paying attention. So many feelings. So many emotions.  Everything at once. And no, it isn't as pretty as Lenka's song makes it out to be. Life, would definitely be easier if it happened one episode at a time. A daily show. A weekly would probably be too much to ask for.
Can you hear the silence? It's very loud. When is silence loud? When the air is tense and thick with the bated breaths of people waiting to say something, but then deciding against it. Why? They're scared. Scared of being judged,  laughed at, ridiculed, or worst of all, ignored.  It's a very artsy feeling to want to be different, unique,  away from the crowd. Very anti-herd instinct.  But deep down, everyone wants to feel accepted, understood, and like they belong.  Happiness comes much , much later.  This is only the shimmery topcoat on the paint of existence.
Everyone you see is going through something. We are all strugglers on a dusty, yellow-brick road, without the ruby red shoes. But here's the twist. Everyone is lucky too. They all have something good going on for them too. So how does one evaluate? Like a Disney movie, ignore the bad, sing about the good? But honey, reality doesn't work that way. The world isn't black or white. It's grey, and people are different shades. But at the end of the day, everyone's actually a fool. Nobody really knows the art of balance. People convince themselves that they're depressed, or people rejoice because they think they're happy , but it's all an illusion. But that's ok. Everything is fair in love and war. And this is the most difficult kind,  to love oneself when the whole world seems to rage war against you.
This sense of belonging though is more addictive than oreos coated with cocaine. Once you get comfortable,  it's hard  to figure out how to deal with everything if that comfort zone ceases to exist. It's terrifying, to start all over again. But then again, sometimes you can't.  The ghost of your past precedes you and ruins things beforehand. The false impressions of you seem more real than your less scandalous actual existence.
Pain, abuse and betrayal come all together , playing ring-a-ring-a-roses around one; of course , because they all come from a common source, someone with proximity.
It's ironically funny how desperate people are to hold on to their pseudo-sense of belonging and power though. In a group, one can do or say anything. You'll still feel wanted. Insult, ignore, berate someone. How does it matter to you?  You have your crew. Oh wait. But here's the million-dollar question. Who gives you the right to make someone feel wretched? To make someone miserable? To pull someone down for your own benefit?  To make someone question if they're mentally, physically or socially inept? Sure, they can't do anything to you. Because you're older. Or society is on your side. Or you have a bunch of friends and that scapegoat is all alone. And that one life might not make a difference to the queasy equilibrium of things. The world goes on without giving a damn about anyone, to be honest.
Familial abuse, marital rape, ragging, hazing, all of that would be justified then. Hold on. What you're doing isn't as bad as those ugly words, you say? No. They're all forms of bullying,  varying in severity, preying on vulnerabilities and insecurities. So what does that make you? A bully. A coward who wouldn't last 2 seconds in the real world without your squad. But hey, you've done something gold,  unknowingly too. You've built a stronger person.
This isn't a fairytale though. There isn't going to be a song at the end of it, celebrating good trumps evil. Because here, there aren't any sides. Just relativity. You might be the one unjustly treated and the one who's had to go to hardships just for basic survival. But you're not going to have a shower of confetti over your head. You have to go through the same thing, over and over again, hoping that tomorrow will be kinder.  The lessons to take home however would be this; everyone is both an angel and a demon, and , more importantly, however and whoever kicks you down, you're visible, you exist, you matter and you're going to make it.