Nothing but fumes

Sometimes, words are born from the crack in your heart as minor as an hairline fracture, take up space in veins alongside blood forming clots in between and get caught in the lump of your throat choking your voice. 

Because you cannot say them out aloud. Because saying them aloud would mean setting your world ablaze. Creating a pyre with the same hands with which you have nurtured happiness, one day at a time, using your spit as fuel and lighting the fire with your tongue. You are still sane enough to not do that. 

You thus let it bite you in the pit of your stomach. You let the carcasses of your words burn in the same crack in your heart where they were born. You let them rot inside the whole of you. The stench and burden of these words will then come out of your mouth as nothing but fumes. Visible yet invisible. 

Every time you leave

Every time you leave

I start counting backwards

Holding my breath

And your memories

For the time when I will again

Hold you in my eyes

And be held in your arms

Every time you leave

I get engulfed

In an arid sadness

And dizzying loneliness

That only gets cured

After getting inked 

With your smoky lips

And warm embrace

Because whenever you leave

You take a part of me

Leaving your bits

And slow and gradual

I am

Not me anymore

But a reflection

Of nothing

But

You.

Ex - Sarkari Babu

From today onwards, I no longer am the ‘sarkari babu’. A title which I accepted first with reluctance, then with frustration, followed by the understanding of its importance, then with responsibility and finally with a lot of pride.

Even though I come from a family of government officers, I never ever wanted to be one. The idea of going to a same place, doing the same work, meeting the same people everyday never appealed to me. But somehow, I landed one for myself. Within a span of a year, I tried to get out of it. And trust me, I tried really hard.

But as they say, life is what happens when you are busy making other plans. And before I realized, it was around eight years of working in a government office.

They say your first job teaches you the most. I learnt too. I learnt that it is easiest to blame the government when you are on the other side of the table. 

I learnt that it is not that easy for an outsider to understand why things happen in a certain way in a government office. I learnt that being a government officer came with a lot of responsibility towards your country. I learnt that even though you are a smallest part of the government machinery, you can contribute if you want to.

I also learnt that going to a same place everyday could bring a lot of stability. I learnt that doing the same work everyday could become your forte. I learnt that meeting same people everyday could be comforting.

I don’t remember when did I change from being somebody who never wanted to be a government officer to somebody who started defending when people blamed government for everything.

Every workplace has its own pros and cons. This one had too. But as I leave today, I leave with warm friendships, lessons and learnings that will last a lifetime and times that will be etched in memory forever.

~ From an ex - Sarkari babu (Just felt like calling that myself one last time)

'In between'

This period of being ‘in between’ things. The upcoming ironical goodbyes that will be happy and sad at the same time, the shortly due new hellos, the fear and the excitement of beginning afresh somewhere, the zeal and exhaustion that comes at the same time at the thought of proving yourself once again, the new boundaries that you will set and the ones that will be set for you, the chanting that you have been doing to yourself. Saying again and again that the decisions you’ve taken are the right ones, that you haven’t gotten a raw deal. Although its only time that will tell if the chants have proven themselves correct or you have learnt things the harder way once again.

This ‘in between’ feeling. The feeling of being unmoored, unhinged.

Addictions

People warn you against addictions. You hear your well-meaning friends say, ‘Oh you can have everything in moderation. Just make sure you don’t get addicted to it.’ Parents are on the lookout for saving their children from any kind of addiction. Alcohol, smoking, drugs – the dangerous words.  Precisely, because these things suck life out of you, gradually making you dependent on them. 

But there is something even more dangerous than these addictions.  Addiction of people. Why do we never get warned about 'addiction' of some such people in our lives? The ones who matter to you, the ones who fall in love with you, the ones you have 3 a.m. conversations with, the ones you sin with, the ones who warm up your hearts, the ones who don’t judge you for drinking vodka straight from the bottle in December, the ones who become your muses and much more. These are the ones you start getting dependent on. For your emotional needs. The needs of your soul. Something that your body doesn’t even notice. But the soul? The soul does.

The soul craves for these addictions when they leave you. Or when you leave them after realizing that you are addicted to them. Because you know these people aren’t good for you. Because you know they have the power over you. Because you can’t have them forever in your life. Because they aren’t for yours to keep. Because you can love them but never be loved in return. Because they are a part of your journey but not a part of your destination.   

Just like the physical symptoms of materialistic addictions, there are symptoms of ‘people’ addictions. The cravings. The cravings that leaves you empty, anxious, bruised. The cravings that sometimes make you cold. Towards everything. Mute the noise. Around you. Though the same cannot be said about the noise inside.

Your soul wants them back. Those addictions. You almost reach out. Again. Stopping yourself just in time. Realization. That though they give you a high by making you delve deeper in yourself, you know they are exhausting you. Though they build your imagination, you know they are wrecking you. Though they bring in heightened sense of emotions, you know they are making you numb somewhere.

Isn’t it is much better to get addicted to those materialistic addictions. Those materialistic addictions merely spoil your body. But the addiction of 'people'? The addiction of people damages your soul. The kind of damage that is worse than an ailing body. Because the body can heal. But the soul? The soul does not. 

L - Losing Myself

He:	Why are you pushing me away? Don't do that. Just because I can't write letters to you like you do, doesn’t mean that you don’t mean anything to me
She:	It's not you. It's because of me
He:	So you agree that you are shutting me out?
She:	I have to
He:	What is the compulsion?
She:	Fear
He:	Fear of future, I guess. Look, I don't know what future holds for us. But does that mean we should give up what we have today?
She:	I fear myself. Being drawn to somebody I've known just for a few months, having compassion beyond recognizable levels, ready to give up my ego so easily and the comfort level of sharing the darkest edges of my life. I fear losing myself while I discover our similarities and marvel at our differences. I fear losing myself in the attachment I have with you for I get absorbed in it every passing minute. This post is written as a part of April A to Z Challenge - 2015

The 'Attachments'

You can't save me. Nobody can. I know you are concerned. I can sense that concern in your actions and words; sometimes words aren’t even necessary. I can sense that in the way you look at me when I say something really casual. But that 'casual' has deeper meanings which mostly people around don’t understand. But fortunately or otherwise, you do.

I also know you are attached. So am I. But that's the word I dread these days. 'Attachment'. You know why? Coz it weakens me. This 'attachment'. For people, this sense of attachment becomes their strength. It was mine too; at one point of time. Not anymore though. Every attachment weakens me today. Because of my inherent nature, I have the habit of holding my 'attachments' fervently, carefully weaving them in my thoughts and life, making a brilliant pattern out of them and with them, the one that only I can understand and admire. But I also know they are weak links inside me. I become undone like any woolen fabric when you pull a string of its intricately woven design. Because, every string is attached to another and it is the combined strength of these strings that hold the fabric together. My 'attachments' hold me too. But every single 'attachment' I seem to have is also like that string in the woolen fabric which has the power to pull me apart. And I dread, that at the end of it all, I am going to be nothing but a quagmire of unwoven strings, messed in itself to an extent where it becomes almost impossible to untangle it, to make any sense or purpose out of it.

I know you want to help me. But you shouldn’t. I have to fight my own battles. I have fought them till now. I know I haven’t won all of them. But I have fought, sometimes thoughtfully and sometimes otherwise. And I shall continue them. 

Besides, there is not a long way to go anymore. The destination lurks nearby. I can sense it, feel it, maybe I would be able to see it soon. But before I reach there, I need to pull all my strings back to myself, start the process of detachment and stop letting myself getting undone anymore. Because when it is time to leave, I do not wish to be held back by the combined strength of these strings.      

Written for Three Word Wednesday Week No. 407 – Brilliant, Fervent, Thoughtful

Loving Life Again

a question thrown in

my answer had me thinking

asked somebody just like that

how are you?

I am fine was my reply

didn’t know if it was actually true !!

went through the darkness and doom

after breaking up with you

days and nights were nothing but blue

darkness asked me one day

how are you?

I am fine was my reply

didn’t know if it was actually true !!

 courage I lacked

to hold a new hand

or find another shoulder to depend

dreading the addiction that last time happened

courage asked me one day

how are you?

I am fine was my reply

didn’t know if it was actually true !!

with efforts

tried to be up on my feet

leaving behind my precious relationship’s defeat

following hope

sunshine and its fleet

the sunshine asked me one day

how are you?

I am fine was my reply

didn’t know if it was actually true !!

with baby steps

I walked in the direction of light

using my gut, my strength,

my soul’s entire might

with fear in mind, yet faith in heart

again to give life, one hard fight

light asked me one day

how are you?

I am fine was my reply

didn’t know if it was actually true !!

 meekly, I would myself ask

what do you desire today?

and my heart would in its softer voice say

a new book to read

get a new song to hum

 keep those negative thoughts at bay

and I would follow these little commands

the heart asked me one day

how are you?

I am fine was my reply

didn’t know if it was actually true !!

 as days turn into months

and months roll into years

I cover a distance today

beginning to heal

I feel life again getting on the reel

life asked me one day

how are you

I am fine was my reply

but this time

may be

may be

it’s true!!

This post is written as a part of April A to Z Challenge 2014 under Non-Themed category. I am doing two posts for this Challenge and Themed posts can be found here.

Unmade as always

Unmade as always

But hey, I like it that ways

Creases forming intricate designs

This bed has seen all my mood signs

Cried I have sunken on the pillows

When life was vague and nothing but hollow

Privy to all sweet nothings

Along with sweethearts, it listened to talks so mushy

Sitting in my sweat pants

Writing poetry and the rants

While readying for the hangouts

On it, all the dresses have been laid out

Jumped on it in excitement

Punched it hard in resentment

Pizza crumbs on it be found

And yes, my phone must also be around

Cuddled on it with soft toys

Under warm blankets, oh what joys!

Lazed around for hours at a stretch

Lost in thoughts sitting on its edge

Me and my world it has held

Oh yes, I just love my unmade bed!

This one is written for Mag # 212