Thursday, February 21, 2013

This is me.

You know how they say things change over time? They are right but no one ever warns you of the great probability of reaching a point where you might not be relatable to self. The people who you claim to know since forever fade away, emerging only as strangers. We justify the change and try to accustom ourselves to the variables, hanging on to tiny threads of emotions, we have been feeling since puberty, when the gigantic monster of emotions was raised by a whirlpool of hormones.

This was once home, full of people. They were not always kind to each other yet they were one, always pulling each other through tough times. Years passed by, we began to age. The childhood games started to make lesser sense and things grew serious. One by one the children grew, till the parents no longer had to put them to sleep, nor did they need any more curfews.

It was the long silent nights that bear witness to my memories. How, when the parents room light would go off, little hopes and dreams would expand and bring together tiny heads under the bed sheet, scheming. When the cat is away, the mice will play.

Its August 2005, the boats are set to sail. Slowly people make way to their destinations, making several stops just to ensure the hesitance they feel isn’t loss but doubt alone. Do you know what it feels like to walk into a room? A room full of memories, of fights and screams, of love and joy, of salt and saffron, and find it vacant. Do you hear those muffled sounds, the air around you makes? Do you know what makes you a stranger in your own shoes?

Year 2009. Home is home again. There is life and shrieks of joy. There is anger and disappointment. There are hallways exploding with the past. There is chit chat and ho ha’s.  Do you know what it is like to have them back or how relaxed you can feel because the walls no longer mock you. There is no childhood left in any of us yet in being adults we have discovered a childhood of our own.

2010,2011. The sailboats are now huge ships. The kind that never stop. They are loaded and we say our goodbyes. Farewell is always sad. Do you know what it feels like to lose family? Do you know why the tears fall and the heart changes its rhythm to match your mood? Do you know, moving on may take more from you than promised? Do you know; if you set them free once, they never really come back?

Monday, February 11, 2013


The smell of guilt. The mocking bird was killed.

We were little kids, not long from now. I chased play mates around the trees, we made pans" using leaves, oil stored in baby lotion bottle and random paints. Always dreaming about adulthood. I always read how people begin to miss childhood once they are out of it and never understood why.

Now years later I move about in circles not much different from those in the past, all dolled up. Fake laughter and chit chats over parties and weddings. I stand under a chandelier and look above at my radiant sun, unable to count the hundreds of tiny crystals its laden with. And in this game I find my self another childhood.

Year after year I set new goals, none I hold close to my heart. Relieved to be able to move on without regret I play more games. The enemy closes in and check mate.

                                           Growing old, a tragedy that is too common.


That second on the clock, when it sinks in. Too much has been said that will never be taken back. Oceans and Oceans will not turn this to coal. It will forever be cursed. 

                   Till death do these memories last, to what we will be and what is past.