Tag Archives: sadness

The Absence of Happiness

They say:
It’s all in your head
That you’re merely overthinking
That you must at least make an effort.
They think that you chose this.
That’s not okay.

It’s bad enough that your brain
repeats the same words,
till you’re defenseless
and huddled in a corner,
yearning for a moment’s solitude
from your maddening thoughts.
But the well intentioned people
that surround you don’t understand.
That’s not okay.

They won’t understand
that sometimes breathing
is all you’re really capable of.
They won’t understand
that sometimes, even that feels pointless
and like too much effort.
They won’t understand
the emptiness that’s gnawing your insides
and eating you away,
one happy moment at a time.

We’re conditioned to think poorly
of the people fighting
the demons within their heads.
To ignore their suffering,
pretend it isn’t happening.
That’s not okay.

But perhaps they’ll understand
if you give them a suitable metaphor.
That you’re being chased by a Dementor
and your Patronus, or theirs,
cannot cannot chase it away.
No amount of chocolate will revive you
from the havoc already wreaked.
That this absence of happiness
is not by choice.

And maybe then,
instead of badgering you…
they’ll help you practice your spells
so that in the future, you’ll be okay.
And that, is so much better than just okay.

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Filed under Inspired by other creative works, Introspective, klash, Poetry, The world around me, Things that confuse me, Uncategorized

Choking…

The struggle of putting words on paper
is so very real.
It seems as if my words are choking
under the pressure of my sadness.
But every now and then
a scream pierces through the gag
and I spit out the words
because keeping them in makes me sick.

 
 

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Filed under Inspired, Introspective, Poetry, Uncategorized

Homesickness

Homesickness.

Everyone says it can happen quite frequently in the first couple of months that you live away from home. It’s almost a rite of passage when you move away. I guess, even more so when you leave the country. The better part of the past two years of my life have been spent in the UK. It’s been a marvelous experience but I haven’t really missed home. Apart from an initial bout of homesickness when I first moved here in 2013, I haven’t had this incomprehensible surge of irrationality that eviscerates all logical thought. Sure, I’ve missed home and my family and friends. But I haven’t wanted to just drop everything and run home. And now, when I’ve had this persistent feeling for two days…I don’t really know how to deal with it.

Nothing’s changed. And yet, I feel completely different.

I know that a huge part of this yearning is because I’m missing out on my annual feast of literature. Every January, as a new year present and a pre-birthday celebration, my city transforms from a historical and tourist destination to a destination for art, culture, language and most crucially…literature. For five days, people with a deep-seated love for language come together under one massively overpopulated roof and celebrate everything it can possibly convey. Within the stuffily overcrowded halls, we huddle together and converse on every aspect of languages. Literature, fiction, journalism, poetry, forklore and social commentary – we have it all. It’s like we take a hiatus from our preoccupation with existence and focus on living.

My yearning for the festival isn’t blinding me to the social drama that plays out simultaneously. Nor am I forgetting the bitching, author tantrums, political drama and the constant one-upping of the program coordinators. Even with the incessant commercialization of the festival and its transformation into a page 3 carnival, the Jaipur Literature Festival is essentially a celebration of knowledge and culture. It really did feed my soul and provide me sustenance. Not being able to attend it isn’t as excruciating as not being able to spare a few hours to catch up on what’s been discussed. Perhaps I’d be less wistful if I could take a moment and just listen to the speakers. Perhaps I could even be happy with the content and ignore the joy of experiencing the event.

I guess it doesn’t say anything appreciable about me when I feel more yearning towards a literature festival than the possibility of spending time with my family. But that is a demon for another day. Today, I have to contend with this ache.

And I don’t know how to do that.

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Filed under Introspective, Life at University, Things that confuse me

Yearning

Maybe letters
are better afterall.
In them,
I can touch
the words that
oozed out of you.

Maybe paper
is sentimental
for in your absence
I can touch
something
once of yours.

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Filed under Poetry, The world around me

Nostalgia

Screen Shot 2013-09-01 at 2.16.54 AM

 

I remember
huddling over the table
speaking softly;
offering you coffee,
and your fleeting touch
on my straying strands
of hair that escaped
into my eye.

I remember
you ordering a cookie
and crumbling it up
saving me a big piece
while I ate my sub
slowly…haltingly.

I remember
wanting muri,
and dangling my feet
at the edge of the lake;
feeling alone
in a crowd
and you whispering
the shapes of floating clouds.

I remember
all our times
and everything
that has changed.

I remember…

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Filed under Introspective, klash, Poetry, Reminiscing, Uncategorized

Distance

You say “the distance
is because
of time and space.”
I think…
“it’s because
of all the things
we no longer say.”

When I ask
“are we ok?”
You hesitate.

When big fights
are swept away
and small ones
fester for days,
you say “we’ve got stuff
on our plate.”
I think…
“Will this seal
our fate?”

 

Disclaimer:
And before anyone starts questioning me on why I’m morose or if I’m going through heartbreak, let me make it clear. Distance is the most cited reason for drama in most relationships and I’m just writing something on it. Has nothing to do with my life. Please save the curiosity for another day? 🙂

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Filed under Poetry, The world around me

A Wilting Leaf

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Wilting, waiting;
on the parched,
wooden step.
Drenched; discarded
by the tree.
Flitted by the wind
unthinkingly.
Slowly withering
into obscurity.
I wait for you
to crush me
beneath the sole
of your feet.

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Filed under Image Inspired, Poetry