#Octoberfalls 17. Bottled night

#Octoberfalls 17. Bottled night

My eyes are clouded and heavy-lidded.

There are just blobs of light and shapes

in front of me and around me.

This is far from fleeting.

Whoever decided that alcohol

wipes away the pain,

they were wrong.

All I can think of is the pain.

Meh. Again. A bit out of my game, but hopefully will come back.

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#Octoberfalls 16. Notes of Forever

#Octoberfalls 16. Notes of Forever

I have a jar.

A jar of hearts.

The jar of hearts that I collected from my treacherous journey

of life.

The jar of hearts that I pick up and let inside of my own

when I lack inspiration. Or motivation.

It has never failed me.

Until one day, I randomly pulled

out yours.

And your heart began to sing the tales

of me, through you. Of us.

And I wondered if keeping your heart with me

was good for mine because

my heart begins breaking.

Not very happy with the art and the poem. But eh. It will have to do.

 

#Octoberfalls 15. Tempestous sea

#Octoberfalls 15. Tempestous sea

I’m sitting still and straight but I feel tilted.

There’s a storm brewing in my head,

my very own flavour,

with lots of brine and rain to compensate each other,

with a dash of seaweed; just a pinch of death.

and maybe a little Hell;

definitely no fear. No sadness.

Only wistfulness, just a touch.

And I shall feel all right.

  I really like how my drawing came out, but I’m not so sure about the poem itself.

#Octoberfalls 14. Lonely rooms

#Octoberfalls 14. Lonely rooms

I am alone in my apartment.

My smiles are forced.

Sometimes I think I may hurt

my cheeks if I smile because

they’ve been so out of practice.

This pain in my chest is a new constant

in my life.

I am empty. Soul-less.

Just a living corpse walking

and breathing and eating to

stay alive. Not really living.

I’ve been this way since you

have been gone.

This is my new

normal.

A little sappy, sad poem because I haven’t written any lately.

#Octoberfalls 13. Autumn Dance

#Octoberfalls 13. Autumn Dance

A leaf came tumbling

down swaying slightly in the

chilly autumn wind. The colours blended with the floor of the

The colours blended with the

floor of the forest but the

 

leaf stood out, freshly

fallen. browns, oranges, reds

and yellows merged.

A Tanka and a Haiku, because what better forms of poetry to describe nature!

Again, first time pen sketching a leaf. I could do better!

#OctoberFalls 8. Rainbows and Gemstones

#OctoberFalls 8. Rainbows and Gemstones

You hold up the crystal to the sunlight

but you see no rainbows.

You pout.

“Why can’t I see rainbows?” You ask grandpa.

He laughs lightly, taking the stone from my hand.

“This is pure crystal, unpolished.

You can’t see the light because

there is unwanted dirt and soil on it.

If you clean it,

polish it with hard substances,

you can see it!

Like your mamma’s diamond earrings!”

“I understand!” You say.

I wonder if one day, you will understand

what Pappa was trying to say.

Hardships will hurt you, baby,

but I’m sure, they will make you

into the shiniest human being

ever walked on the planet.

A little father-daughter sentiment, I suppose.

I painted my very first crystal! Not perfect, but practice is definitely required, but I’m quite happy with it. I enjoyed the experience!

 

#Octoberfalls 7. Knife’s edge

#Octoberfalls 7. Knife’s edge

chop. chop. chop. 

I am chopping up the vegetables for dinner tonight.

An elaborate dinner at my house, at my dining table which seats only four but there are 7 people coming for dinner and my mother will not stop pointing out why I have such a small table in such a small house when I have such a huge family. Or, when I could one day have such a huge family.

An extravagant dinner at my 2 BHK rented house with nosey aunties and helpful uncles, situated at the centre of the city where everything is in walking distance. And I can go everywhere in house clothes. No bra needed. Just with a huge sweater and a shawl and I am one of the homeless and unrecognizable and happy and serene.

I need to be my exuberant self, wearing a saree and being a “proper” lady or otherwise, the boy coming to this “dinner party” will think wrongly of me and, he will not marry me and what do I do then?!Who will marry me?!

chop. 

I don’t want to be exuberant.

chop. 

I don’t want to smile all night, filling everyone’s glasses with that horrible soda and make small talk with my siblings who don’t care to see me, as long as I send them money.

chop. 

I don’t want to be pleasant. I don’t want to chit-chat with a dumb-looking stranger whom my mother and father want me to get married to.

chop. 

I don’t want to “be” home when my husband comes in so I can take off his shoes and socks and remove his tie and take his bag and make him coffee and get shouted at because he had a bad day at work. I don’t want to be that woman who worships her husband just because he agreed to marry her. I will not be that woman who will offer her body to her “husband” because he felt like it.

chop. 

I don’t want this.

chop. 

I wanted a loving family. Small is beautiful.

chop. 

Instead, I got this.

chop. 

I was thinking of all the ways a girl in India is chained by social constructs, and how suffocating it is for us to not be able to live the way we want. It makes me angry and sad at the same time. Hence the poem.

This angry poem is dedicated to all free thinking women out there. Who don’t let the society define them or their clothes or their behaviour or their habits.