Monday, April 24, 2017

#NaPoWriMo Day 23


I thought of you today.

The broken slab on with your name carefully engraved
Declaring I was home.

The bursting bougainvillea and gulmohur
In full bloom.

The quiet,
So pure that it sometimes pierced.

The hills around you,
Our natural fortress.

The swings in the playground,
A reminder that age is merely a number.

The generous portions of education -
More wholesome than any meal one could consume.

On nights like this,
With a melancholic storm brewing,
My dreams point towards you.

Your charming innocence,
Self sufficiency,
Purity.

It felt complete:
Life lessons taught with a pinch of love,
Symbiosis with the natural world around,
A renewed curiosity.

I suppose
What I miss the most, perhaps,
Is the girl I once used to be.
In a home I found,
Far away from home,
The only place I wish to be.

#NaPoWriMo Day 22


Sink.
Sink completely.
Stop struggling.
Feel what it means to truly sink to the bottom.
Deeper than your worst imagination can conceive.

Once there,
Allow your body to stop.
Start stopping till you're still.

With only your eyes and nose above the surface,
Be as aware as you possibly can.
Now that you are no longer restless,
Call for help.
Ask nicely.
You will receive it.

It may be a known face,
Or a complete stranger.
Accept their help.
Be rescued.

Then,
Having returned to life
Approximately as you knew it,
No longer in the clutches of death,
Breathe easy.

You now know what it means to be alive.
Embrace it.

Art by Rofi Zaino

#NaPoWriMo Day 21

What they don't tell you about solo travel
And constantly being on the move 
Is how much you're going to miss your bed
Regardless of whose bed you sleep on.

In spite of however many stars your hotel's worth,
You'll miss the perfect pressure of the shower 
The aromas and flavours of ghar ka khaana
Especially when you're eating all your meals alone.

You may thoroughly enjoy the soul 
Of the new city as it hits you
As you take in the mountain freshness
That reminds you that you're alive.

The strangers that you meet,
Who let you into your world,
As you offer glimpses of your own.

Fade in, fade out. 
Sleeping in one city,
Waking up in another.

You wake up mid-air, 
Look out the window, 
And watch a beautiful sunset
The horizon like it may never be before.
Yet this is not your home.

More than anything though,
It is the emotional drain.
The constant goodbyes, 
And hellos.
And goodbyes again.

Sometimes, it takes a Jarmusch film to jolt you back to reality.
To make you see the beauty of the mundane,
Repetition.
Nothing new.
Newness in the old.

Look closer.
Find what you've been not looking at.
Do more than exchange just a smile.
Discover unexplored terrains.

Do not underestimate
The beauty of solitude
Albeit in small doses.

Art by Liam Cobb

#NaPoWriMo Day 20


Outside my window
A guava tree sways
A rooster attempts to wake me up,
Failing miserably.
A woman washes the dishes in the blazing sun
While another comforts her infant son in her bosom.
Two dogs bask in the warmth, restlessly,
They watched over the house as I slept.

Now there is silence
As the clouds make way for the mountains
As the silhouettes come closer than ever before.
As the sky juggles the brightness and gloom.

Behold the grandeur of Mother Earth,
How elegantly moulded are her debris
Moulded since the beginning of time.

Unlike us -
You and I.
Look at the mess we've made
All the cleaning up we're yet to start.

Alas!
The day isn't too far away
That the mountain of human garbage
Shall take over the world.

Art by Silvia Venturi

#NaPoWriMo Day 19


How to live alone

I do not exactly know
What it means to be perfectly alone.

On average,
My love for human beings may have lowered, yes,
As has my need for friends, family, anybody really.

Even the virtual world's tabs have been shut,
Temporarily.
Indefinitely.

I miss noone, nothing, am seemingly content
With a pen and paper
A pleasant breeze
The pitter-patter on the roof.

Is there really more to life
Than the few things that really count?
I suppose not.

Nobody else invited, or allowed,
To the party inside your head.

Art by Esthera Preda

Tuesday, April 18, 2017

#NaPoWriMo Day 18

The beauty of revisiting
Places, people, poems
Moments of happiness 
Is often underrated.

Away from the city lights, 
Amidst the greenery, 
I shall tread softly, carefully, 
Feeling immaculately small. 

The woods, as always, shall welcome me, 
Nourishing my soul with her breeze, 
The mountains, old and glorious, 
Will take me where I need to be. 

Under the blanket of stars in the silent night,
The universe shall remind me, 
Forgotten paths of wisdom and love, 
Renewed glimpses of beauty. 

And in that perfect solitude, 
That I have yearned to feel, 
Only the present shall exist, 
The stillness shall set me free. 

Monday, April 17, 2017

#NaPoWriMo Day 17


Prompt: A Nocturne

Softly,
You whisper
The sweet nothings of the night.

Shyly,
I turn to reply,
My answer clear in the pink of my cheek.

Yes, I nod,
I would care for a dance,
Twirl me till I'm dizzy, won't you?

You take my hand
So tiny in yours,
And lead me into a most elegant trance.

Shoulder to shoulder,
We move with our eyes shut,
Feeling only each other's heartbeat and Chopin.

Love and grace,
Flows between us tonight,
As the music begins to match our breath.

Silently,
You move in to kiss me,
My quivering lips do not resist.

Magically,
Everything begins to fade,
And I smile quietly in your warm arms.

Art by Gustav Klimt

#NaPoWriMo Day 16


Prompt: A letter-poem

Dear Mira,
I write you this
18 years before you shall receive it.
Perhaps over this time,
Were I to stay alive,
I shall give you glimpses of its contents:
Anecdotes, words of wisdom, reality checks,
You must wait a while, I'm afraid,
Not that you will mind.

Welcome to this world, little one,
My life has changed manifold
In the 267 minutes since you arrived.

As I return home, alone,
Thinking of you in your cradle,
Innocently asleep,
I pass the places of this city
That you will know to be your own,
Ah, the things that you are yet to see and learn
They will overwhelm you, fascinate,
Let your mind run wild, Mira.
You are yet to know much -
The names of the constellations, bird sounds, what a pronoun is
Slowly you will learn and spread your wings
And soar like a redwood tree
In the forest of your mind.

One day, in the distant future,
We shall walk hand in hand,
Exploring museums, parks, libraries,
Anywhere your little feet would like to visit.
I will introduce you to my favorite things:
Stargazing, reading, walks in the woods, poetry
You more than welcome to imbibe these,
If you like.

On your birthdays,
I shall send you my love,
Bake you cakes perhaps,
Gift you books, kaleidoscopes, Roller Coaster Tycoon -
The essentials of life.
I'll offer you GI Joe and Barbie,
Letting you pick what you like.
I'll teach you how to roller blade,
And buy you knee pads so you don't cry
Seeing the inevitable blood.
Later, though, you will learn
That pain is merely fear leaving the body,
And learn to be adventurous within limits,
And to trust your instinct.

As you grow older still,
I'll read you poetry,
Play you every song I've ever loved,
Show you films I believe are worth seeing,
Expose you to the world of art and beauty.
Prepare to be exposed to everything,
To create your own version of what works and doesn't.

Please know that you are magic, Mira,
You transformed each of us long before you made an appearance,
And will continue to be loved as long as we live.

Good luck at what we know as 'life',
Stay strong and curious and brave and happy.

I love you.

Art by Sophie Jackson

Saturday, April 15, 2017

#NaPoWriMo Day 15


Prompt: Being in the middle of something

There is a finality
In knowing
That you have reached
Middle ground
Halfway from where you started
Halfway towards the end
To the right and left,
The distance covered
And what remains
In all its vastness.

Undefined decisions -
To turn back or tarry a little,
Then proceed.

I pick the latter,
Resume,
Begin again,
Eventually,
Many a mile later
I arrive.

It is everything I have waited for.
I'd do it all over again.

Art by Laurie Hastings

Friday, April 14, 2017

#NaPoWriMo Day 14

Prompt: A clerihew

Mr J.D.Salinger
Ain't got no contender
When it came to being a recluse
Like Seymour Glass, he could use some booze.