The Circus

There’s a restless nerve in the current generation: To strike a work-life “balance”.
And you know how one strikes it or maintains it?

Here’s a cue: We all juggle constantly, endlessly, mercilessly weekdays in and out to meet our sales and production targets, debugging softwares, strategising and statistically analysing strengths and weaknesses of companies we are employed in.

Then we breathlessly hop on to the weekends with the flagraisers of Friday nights and sundowners of Sundays. We gallop wines and whiskies, binge on movie sprees, plunge on the “beach/mountain trip” bandwagon, gorge on the healthiest diets at fanciest gourmet restaurants, dress ourselves quirky, undress and pile on lots of sleep with no hours left for it; only to laboriously succumb to the next morning.

Of course, then we also have to believe that it’s not for social platforms but for our petty selves who feel whole, complete and “balanced” with this imbalance of rest and recuperation.

Not to forget, hobby/fitness classes with annual subscriptions that make us feel a little more about our weary selves.

I think it’s time we breathe. We all know ourselves, our bodies, our limitations and abilities. Whom do we try to befool?

Isn’t it baffling to cognize that we’ve woven ourselves a life which is anything but certain, into baskets of debt, overexpenditure, notion of having fun and unrealistic standards of material success?! This doesn’t suffice for even a piecemeal to your heirs once you leave this world.

An ode to our Mothers

Circumstances have never been meaner,

And souls would never have been this cleaner,

If it weren’t for the everyday catastrophes,

Against which mankind is bleeding daily merely with pocketful of hopes.

Timelines shout, “No dignity in death”,

“A hospital bed costlier than lifetime’s cumulative wealth”,

“An oxygen cylinder procured in stealth”;

As we endlessly lose lives gasping for breath.

Dejectedly, let’s take a moment,

Not to question our politicians’ intelligence quotient;

But to soak ourselves in the miseries,

Of children who’ll now never be able to cede,

Their mothers a cosy retreat,

In lieu of her lifelong yearnings, in brutal cold and taxing heat,

With not a single day qualifying as “cheat”.

And of kids who’re now left to fend for themselves on the streets,

With their mothers succumbing to this COVID beast.

Mothers, who were yet to confide in their adolescent daughters fully,

And mothers, who with swollen feet and bloated bellies,

Died despairingly, short of experiencing the journey truly.

Mothers, who were also professionals at the brink of getting retired,

Mothers, who were yet to see their children dressed up in her gifted attires.

Mothers, whose infants are still on breastfeed,

Mother; an epitome of unconditional love and saga of selfless deeds.

This mother’s day, I dedicate this ode,

To all the mothers who’ve passed on to the heavenly abodes.

“When you know your child will never feel whole instead a broken piece,

How will you ever be able to rest in peace?”

Doomsday

This world is filled with far more cruel people than the ones who’re losing their/loved ones’ lives in this fight against the global pandemic.

My heart is pouncing loud and chest bereaves heavily, loss of a dearly loved one as I write this. I write it because, this is the only remedy am conscious of in these moments.

My uncle (mausaji), another martyr in this COVID-19 battle was otherwise a hail and hearty man. Morally correct, principly upright, epitome of self discipline and emotionally consumed in every day nitty-gritties of his life as well as that of ours (i.e. people around him); he was a thorough gentleman.

He has been one of the most resilient personalities during testing times; consoling the grieved, anchoring the destitute and the poor, shouldering responsibilities of the incapables or less capable ones… He, towered over all woes and discomforts in life vividly and gracefully.

No one close to him ever needed to ask him for help as he’d reach them much sooner.

“I acknowledge that you were too good for this world but can’t fathom that you’ll no longer be here, with us, anymore. It is all the more perplexing to reconcile all my childhood memories: ranging from playing with you to you being a guide and a mentor in our lives.”

I’ve lost a fatherly figure today who most assuredly, didn’t deserve to go the way he did.

“Please keep watching over us and love us forever. Give us the strength to live life without you.”

Dear Dad

When life spells me dumb,
And my hands and feet go numb,
There comes the one,
Who’s always dissuaded me from converting failures to succumb.

You can patiently listen to other’s delirium,
Even though that graciously, isn’t your mental equilibrium;
He would exemplify and teach me,
While treading over sorrows himself, with glee.

There are fathers who are their children’s backs,
And fathers who’ve turned away their backs,
From showering unconditional love and owning responsibilities,
Sometimes by death and other times as cheats and mavericks considering of shrugging off “liabilities”.

So today, we’re bound to raise the toast,
Not merely to boast,
The fathers in the house,
But also to single mothers who’ve protected their kids from people louse.

Dear Mom

I’m glad you know only of the vibrance with which I talk to you on phone and I pray you never even get to know of the grief that surrounds me in lonely days and nights. Grief of not knowing how you’ve been in reality since I last saw you and not what you keep lying to me on phone. Grief of not being there to see your hair greying and body losing its strength which I once homed.

And, I don’t know what you do with that custard powder since I no longer live with you daily as I used to. You’ve never known when to make custard if not at the times I’d pestered endlessly. Now when you’d see the packet sitting shyly at the edge of the cabinet, you won’t just be able to take it out. What if the packet is past its due date? Will you’ve the courage to dispose it off? And if it’s still usable, will you 6 be able to cook it/eat it in my absence?

I miss how you used to try my clothes sometimes and thought of pulling them off in an upcoming party. Obviously, those trials never materialized to true pictures but those trial sessions were memories.

How can you now ever shop for bags and footwears all for yourself when it’s been long since you have done it without me?! Back in the days, we both would try a footwear (thankfully our foot size matches) and would purchase only when it suited both of us. Same for handbags and accessories mostly. Now it’s just not fulfilling enough to shop solely for myself.

You’re my everlasting kitty party. From your college days to mine, from your office to mine; we’d discuss everything under the sun over a cup of tea that you’d prepare and to which I’d always say, “Now you don’t make tea as good as you used to”.

Even today when you call me for movie suggestions, I wish so deeply that we could watch it together.

It’s not right for the destiny to be so mean. All the years that were full of yearning, we’d slogged together. You sweated from 5 in the morning till sleep would get the better of you late night. You, along with dad (in no ways less) laboured for me and my brother in ways only you both could pull off.

Those were the years when we didn’t have a roof of our own. With two little children, two working spouses struggled each day. Day in and day out. In times when domestic helps were commonly uncommon and owning a car was still a luxury, my heroes made every dream too good to be true.

You’d both clean the house, cook food, dress us for school, get yourself ready for office, drop us off to school and then reach your own workplaces. Then you’d come home, help us with our homework, complete your chores, cook dinner, feed us and retire to bed.

I can never forget, how you’ve invested in each brick of our home every day and every be so often.

I slogged merely by staying engaged in my academics and extra curriculars. It’s only now, since I’m employed that I can give you my time without you feeling like “I’m wasting it”. In addition to this, you too need not be bothered by us enough since we can feed and dress ourselves. When we both can gather the time to splurge together, destiny has come up with other plans.

Everyone just knows of a daughter that you sorely miss. Nobody knows how profound that soreness is.

This is how life weaves its own reels, I reckon!

From BOO to BAE

You know you’re with the right person when he fights with you to stay with you; a little longer and till perpetuity.
Only you know your heart’s solace when someone else burns from inside; because you’d been mistreated and they were unfortunately, a bit helpless.
And, you get to know/feel what bliss is life when he looks for your opinion in the midst of dozens of them coming his way.
All of a sudden sometimes, and gradually otherwise, what you wear, what you should try wearing and what you shall just drop off your closet becomes a glossy errand for him.
Then, from being someone who used to give his clothes for laundry to the one who now does it all by himself for you; the transition seems whimsical.
For him, you’re the thread then that weaves his life. From his career plans to retirement plans, there’s nothing that doesn’t comprise of you.
He’s happily your 3am driver even when it’s office next day and masseur even when he himself came back from office at 9pm.
Nobody can implement these actions only because they’ve planned it. A lot of it comes only from the heart. And I’m unconditionally thankful to be at the receiving end of it.

I’ve only myself to blame for and myself to live with!

And sadly, no prince comes in real life to protect you from demons. To uphold that what is right and fair against those who are all mighty and evil.

And you cry to yourself in bed enough times such that there are no more tears left.

You don’t see the demon paying back for his sins either.

What do you do with a life like that?

I’ll guide you.
You change your perspective towards situations, people and life.
You walk past, “I always get things the harder way” version of yourself to, “What else are we here for, if not cry, try and touch the sky; till the time comes to bid goodbye?”.
You miss the gunshots that blame others for your experiences and retrospect, “Who in this world guarantees me that if not this person who hurt me was to do so so brutally, my life would’ve been a bed of roses? Who can vouch that if the tragedy that broke me apart did not happen then nothing bad would’ve taken place in its place? Moreover, who puts his money on the promise that no sorrow will trouble me ever if I walk a certain walk, talk the right talk and follow the textbook?”

Some of us find other people in our lives to blame for while few of us always have ourselves to paint in guilty colors. All because, some of us acknowledge that it’s not the offender’s errand to check our emotions but our job to keep our emotions in check.
When I blame you for breaking my heart beyond repair, somewhere I shall blame myself first for giving you that sacred space and power which makes me so brittle.
When I blame destiny for keeping me jobless, somewhere I shall point a finger on me too for following the work routine only for the week that followed the job interview; and assuming the “week” was too much effort.
When I blame my metabolism for accumulated fat globules, somewhere I shall try recounting even one person who exercises daily and complains of poor metabolism.

So; the blame’s on me. The game is for me. And I’m here to win!

I KNOW

I know.
That blood red lipstick you wear is less out of fashion trends and more because it dresses the scars, wounds and bruises from previous night’s violence.

I know.
That oversized T-shirt is only partly a part of donning a cool personality and majorly to blanket the belly fat, the love handles and saggy breasts.

I know.
That silence in a room brimming with loud mouthed debates and discussions, is only scarcely a matter of not having enough knowledge to speak up. Mostly, it’s an armour to save you from potential mockery and judgements that would strain you.

I know.

That job you’re slogging in, is only a transient thing in your head. Ephemeral are your dreams and visions and passions, pleading you to take a chance.

I know.
You’re bludgeoning to travel to the edge of the world and stay home a little longer in exactly the same space-time labyrinth.

I know.
It’s never easy but they say it’s worth the ordeal.

I know.
Because, you and I are the same.

GIRL NEXT DOOR

There’s this girl I know; who knows to dance and, she thrives on it. She flies when she’s at it.
She gleams with her orchestrating hands and cursory glance.
She beams with joyous smiles and moves extremely docile.

Daily as she crumbles back to her building and races to the second floor under the starry sky, she fiddles.

Her fingers search for the keys to unlock her baby home, miles away from home!
She juggles with the lock and key under the new bulb she bought but that which never glows due to some socket failure that occurred many months ago.

She thinks to complaint to the landlady about it each time she reaches home, and sterner each day but then reminds herself of the response she’d receive.

Oh! I did call the electrician several times but he always messes around.

So she switches on her phone’s flashlight and creeps in.

Ah! It smells of muddy shoes and sweaty socks, rotten eggs and burnt woks.

She puts on her lose pyjamas and sneaks in an oversized jacket to slither in her blanket and tingles with her thoughts. Like chimes in the air.

She has to study, but “motivational videos on how to study” steal that time.
She has to go for sports training, but “too cold” and “too hot” keep the clock ticking by.
She wants to sketch, but “oh I need to buy enough stationery and dedicate a lot of time than this night has” keep it on hold.

She eventually dances all the anxieties away and calls it a day!

UNFILTERED THOUGHTS

When I tell you that I love you, then I just don’t know; will it turn out to be, “you can rip my heart and soul apart” moment or “Ah! I couldn’t have got anything better than this” life phase.

A part of me would get up and confess, “Till the time you don’t ask him out, it’s a NO anyway! So just rush past the tremors down your gut, and score a probability no matter how considerably small and irrationally minute it is… For a maybe YES or a maybe I NEED TO THINK ABOUT IT!”

While the remainder would be weary, soaked in anxiety and numbed in despair; “Why do you want to stake any little amicability that you’ve for your holier than thou fantasy? Can you risk what you’ve, no matter how petty, weak that is, for all that you long?”

And I know, no decision here is going to be the knight in shining armour. Any move I make is going to rob me off my sleep, keep me fidgeting and whisper to me, “The other one was a better option” at the end of the day.