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Don’t pull me out.

I’m a part of you.

I’ll sit more silently, I promise.

I’ll be there by your side.

Just sitting there, calm and poised.

I’m not unwanted.

Just let me in once.

Please. I won’t hurt you.

I’m unlike the others.

I’ll only need some light.

And some water.

And slowly, I’ll become stronger.

I’ll be as equal and tall as you.

I’ll sway with you.

We could be best friends.

And slowly, I’ll grow taller than you.

But don’t worry, we are still equals and friends right?

I’ll just take some of your light.

Some of the water.

Don’t mind me.

And then, when you are a little smaller than me.

I’ll grow on you.

No light or water would be enough.

I’ll prey on your living.

I’ll be your death.

But hey, we’ll still be friends right?

I’ll always remember you.

And a little later,

Maybe, just maybe,

I’ll find a new friend.

Don’t feel bad, you’ll be holding me back.

Now, is that what friends do?




20 Days

Everyone is sound asleep. Silently breathing. The night lamps alight in distance, somewhere round the corner. I can see the pillar casting a shadow. The watchman is patrolling.

That’s how a normal person would describe a typical night at 3 am.

But it’s not so easy for us. We lay here. I lay here wide awake and you are sleeping beside me. It’s so easy for you to fall asleep. I wish it were so easy for me too. I sit here, on our bed, flipping the side lamp switch. But I am not here, I don’t know where I am. Its someplace distant. Somewhere where my past is, the beautiful yet painful past. Or am I dreaming about our future? Where you and I could go back to being us. But it doesn’t matter if I am stuck in a reverse or a forward, I’ll be content living in either one of them, rather than the present. The present is not what the past was made of, of what promises we made in the past. Its hollow, suffocating, confining and it keeps getting worse. It’s not getting better. The last twenty days tell me where we are and how we can’t walk together anymore.

It’s been twenty days since we last talked to each other, well, pretended that we were talking to each other. Maybe, no words can damage us more than the silences already have. I can’t reminiscence what we talked about, which doesn’t happen to me. I remember every word you ever spoke, every heartbeat that my hands felt while I blissfully slept on your chest.

Nineteen days since we had dinner together. We like to pretend that you are busy at work and come home after you’ve ate and I, fulfill my end by still waiting at dinner table with at least one of your favorite dishes. You walk past the table and call me to bed. Tears well up easy and subside just as easily. We are whiling away something so pure with something so made up.

Eighteen days since I’ve cried. Poured my heart out in front of you. And you just sat there, asking me to tell you what the fuck was wrong with me. How can I tell you something that I don’t know the answer to? How can I assure you on something I’ve been unsure of since what seems like eternity. It doesn’t matter if you keep asking me, if you keep offering me your handkerchief, my heart doesn’t give me my answers.

Seventeen days since I smiled. I can’t find anything to smile at these days. Not the stupid reality shows, not the kids who giggle outside our house. Nothing is amusing, nothing gives me happiness. How can it, my happiness is you. And you are gone, you are so distant, I can’t reach out to you.

Sixteen days since we last held hands. It was raining that day and our car had broken down in the middle of the road. You walked ahead of me, my hands knotted in yours, resilient than ever. Like we had promised we would, wherever either one of us would go, the other would follow. Follow me back to that place darling, that moment is still ours, we just need to recapture it.

Fifteen days since we had a row. I don’t mind fighting with you. It just calms me down. It is settling to know that there’s still something we have left which was worth fighting for. Let’s fight for us honey, let’s not give up. Maybe we are still worth fighting for. Don’t abandon us just yet.

Fourteen days since I saw you laugh. I can’t let go of those 10 seconds, it’s my something beautiful. Something I am holding on tight to. You put half my demons to rest that day and I could finally sleep. The other half, woke me up after 4 hours. But I don’t mind, I got to breathe beside you, to sleep beside you.

Thirteen days since I got to know that we were having a baby. I should’ve been happy, it’s something you gave me, something I can keep for life. But I didn’t want to tell you. I didn’t want to share something so pure with something like us. Something destroyed and hopeless like us.

Twelve days since I’ve slept. I wander the halls, reliving all the moments we shared since we got married. How you picked me up in your arms and i smiled the brightest, the two beautiful years of love this house saw. It’s not a home anymore, it’s a house. Our love made it our home. Neither lasted as long as it should have. It’s just bricks and mud now.

Eleven days since I’ve cut myself. It liberates me, unshackles me from my misery. It pulls me out of the gloom that has surrounded me. If I drain my pain through my wrists, will you love me again? Just like you promised you would. Hold my hand once again honey, I swear the scars will heal.

Ten days since your friends came over and we feigned love. The love that’s been long lost. I yearn that love. Don’t you? Let’s pretend if we have to, let’s be the happy couple that we pretended to be that night. Let’s find a few seconds of calm in these days of chaos.

Nine days since our anniversary. You bought a ring for me. A sparkling solitaire. You got down on one knee and proposed to me. The dream was beautiful, contrasting to our harsh reality. The dreams are comforting, I fall asleep balled up on the couch, unlike our last anniversary. There were roses then, it’s just a wide field of thorns now.

Eight days since you made love to me. I wouldn’t call it making love. It was just sex. The passion, the warmth, the fierceness no longer defined it. It was just two bodies entwined, sans the barriers of clothes. Don’t you see the scars, not even now? Maybe they are hiding, hiding from the one who gave them to me.

Seven days since you woke up beside me. Happiest day so far. You wished me good morning with a kiss, a fervourless, customary kiss and made tea for me. I wish you’d sit beside me and nuzzle my neck like you used to. I wish you’d come back, come back to me.

Six days since I told you about our baby. You hugged me so tight I almost stopped breathing with happiness. You smile like a thousand sun rays just dawned on my face. Are we fixed? Are we back to being us? I must be hallucinating.

Five days since you kissed me goodbye. It feels like you are not a delusion anymore, it really is you. It really is us. This might be short-lived but I’ll still cherish every second of it and hope that the next isn’t the last one.

Four days since you talked to our baby. It feels so nice to feel your hands on me again. It’s satiating. It’s substantial. It’s filling.

Three days since you slipped away. You are distant and aloof again. Don’t do that to me, don’t let us fall prey to the silences again. Talk to me, I am here and so is our baby, hold on to us.

Two days since I have taken my meds. It’s for our baby, I should’ve taken. But if there’s  no us, no ours, it’s all in my dreams, in my nightmares. It’s all that is left now, I can only envision what was reality once.

A day since I’ve made peace with the lose broken strings our relationship is hanging from. It’s so surreal, how did we get here? I still can’t help asking myself.

And here I am, on the 21st night of our dead, fake reality. Insomnia still overpowering me, I leave this letter by your bedside, I leave your bedside. We don’t belong on each other sides anymore, we don’t define each other anymore.So, dear husband, I am letting go my insecurities that held me down for so long, I am letting go of the lies I had led myself to believe in. I am setting you free, I am leaving the baggage behind.


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Messed and entwined.

Like a promise to hold on.

Much like you made,

That night in the lawn.


One soul, you wowed.

Like a root,

Letting her children.

Branch out and bow.


One your knee you sat.

Messed everything up so bad.

Proposed me nonetheless.

Fool that i was, i said yes.


Beautiful as a sunny day.

Our marriage grew every day.

Not the way you would expect.

But, like the waist cut from a belt.


Kicked in the nerve so hard.

You shoved a blow.

I fell away too far.

Moment struck, we hit the low.


Now it’s just a mess.

I wait for your minute,

To confess.

But you won’t, knowing so, i leave my side of the bed.


Muddy and Crumpled

My fingers have dug in
Way too deep into my palms 
They have torn through the skin
Seeped deep till my bone
The hand drips 
And I hold the scrunched letter
Dipped in sheer red
As it soaks my agony
The sounds in distance 
Hold no meaning
Only the silent 
And orderly clatter 
Of your mud thrusted boots
Seems to matter
You haven’t looked back
In the nineteen seconds 
You walked away
And the hundreds of years’ worth
My hands and my heart have bled
I lift my hand 
To stop you, to make you stay
But my words fail me
I don’t know what to call you by?
Love? Darling? Sweetheart?
But would you know you’re still all those things 
To me?
All I can see through my upheld hand
Is that your figure grows smaller 
And the blood begins to clot
And fewer drops hit the floor
And then I finally let go 
Of your wedding invitation
Just where you stood three minutes ago
And of all the things 
I should’ve done
I step on the letter too
As I lay rest
To the muddy, crumpled love
That ours became. 

The Social Box


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Stepped in a box,

Looked giant, I was small.

I sat playfully,

Never complaining.

Mother smiled, father jovial.


All I did was play with toys,

Sometimes fall asleep with my car held close.


Trouble in the paradise,

When I turned four.

When father found I possessed more cars than the dolls.

Mother worried, bought me some new frocks.

With striped socks, I matched them to my shorts.


Soothing father, mother declared, it’s just a phase.

The phase became a period.

A chapter, now a hard bound book.


The giant box still present,

Sat in, but my ass won’t fit.

Mother and father don’t want me to play with cars,

Instead marry a guy who drives a lavish car.

Mom says no more frocks,

And a big cross on shorts.

No crop tops, they expose a lot.

Be a lady, wear sarees for sure.


Don’t sit cross legged,

It’s a crucial requirement on the ‘Lady list’ that needs to be checked.


How do I explain it to you mom,

Throw away the box now.

Neither will I fit, nor will I bow.

Beauty And Strength

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They say love is supposed to make you strong

But it didn’t.

It just frightened me to care of someone’s breaths

More than mine.


They say fear makes you strong

But it didn’t.

It made me listen to my heartbeats

Like a murderer’s footsteps.


They say childhood is beautiful.

But it isn’t.

It turned my laughter

Into muffled screams of unexplainable horror


They say adulthood is beautiful.

But it isn’t.

It has turned my ambitions

To imprison me into an unformidable jail.


So, through all my life, where was beauty and strength?

Embracing Your Lies

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I should have been wise.

Should’ve heard my heart’s cries.

As my body slowly dies.

For the love I once saw in your eyes.


Oh look, how the time flies.

Shattering your guise.

And I fall now, from the mirage of highs.

I think I pay a prize.


For wanting to reach the skies.

But I never thought of the clouds’ size.

Never knew they were allies

With your lies.




Born in a hospital room, I was marked a girl.

Lying in the incubator, they labelled me with a name.

A name that would give my existence validation.

I had no say.

At 4, I was marked as a daughter.

My father’s hand hitting me hard across the face.

Too fragile to fight back, I cried.

I had no say.

At 14, I was marked as a girlfriend.

A kiss and my hands in his hair was all it took.

No matter my age, nobody ever asked.

I had no say.

Marks and scars grew with age

Hand in hand, pain and gains.

At 20, I was marked as a student.

He should’ve taught me psychology, but I got a piece of his mind.

Groping me by my waist, I stood there, numb, aghast.

Too humiliated to respond, I ran.

I had no say.

At 26, I was marked as a wife. On our wedding night.

His touch set my scars ablaze, like burning through a flame.

He’d come home every night, take me for 11 minutes and would push me over to my bed side.

Too used to sustain, I cringed at every turn with pain.

I had no say.

At 32, I was marked as a mother. It was a feeling like no other.

The little fingers touched my now yellow bruise.

I’ll never mark you, I said, it’s a truce.

No scars for you, no writhing with pain.

If there is, I’ll flush it down the drain.

You’ll always have a say.

Be marked, you never may.

I’ll Hold You

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Why didn’t you come?

I said I’d wait for you.

No matter how long I had to,

But I would.

And I know for sure,

That if not days,

If not months,

You would come by years later 

But you would.

But, you stomped on my trust and faith in you.

In time and in love.

You showed me a dusty mirror.

Which was squeaky clean with a promise of fruitful longing.


My love,

I ask of you.

Every time I offer you my hand, 

My hand is a tree.

A tree,

With branches for fingers.

Fingers that are lush

And fragrant of care and love.

Bloom, will flowers.

Once they feel you warmth.

Grab onto any one of them

I’ll make it the highest branch.

The branch which takes you closer to the sun, 

To all the warmth it has to offer.


Your Pain


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Do we have to compare our pain?

To the crushing rocks

To the bitter draughts

To the silent skies

And frozen nights,

If you can’t put it in words,

Your diary lies shattered,

Pages torn mercilessly

Taking up the pain of your wordless anguish.

Do you think?

He will understand.


She will?

No, honey.

They won’t.

They won’t get how you scream, only internally.

They won’t get the ripped canvas your soul has become.

They will try to bring back the colours,

But they don’t know which ones you lost.

The red of love, the yellow of friendship, the whites of peace.

It’s you, darling.

It was, is and always will be you.

Only you can understand you,

Only you, can heal you.



She burned herself

In the quest of the unknown.

Someone called “him”

And hysteric conversations at odd hours

Of the night.
She screamed.

Exploded in tears and fresh sweat.

“I see him.”

She was comforted, by mother and father alike.

“But, there is nobody.”
She would know, 

By the ticking of the hour hand.

When it strikes 4 

And everyone is in a slumber deep.

He would make her scream.

Yet not letting her take his name.

She would call out,

“It’s him, it’s him.”

“Save me, it’s him.”

But his mention is silenced by the tear of her dress
And the blanket that lays slumped on the floor.

He leaves just as the hour hand strikes again.

And she knows it’s time.
When she would gather her gown lace,

Wrap it around her hands

And muffle her scream into a ball so made.

When she should sit in the blanket.
Too afraid to drag her naked, 

Scratched frame any further.

When she has to start accepting,

Yet another morning

That she ignited this war.

Taking Back

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If someday, ever, we collide.

Cross each other’s path on a road wide.

I’ll look at you and smile,

Maybe you would too.

Even if out of sheer courtesy.

Maybe, we’ll try to break the ice,

We never could.

You’ll ask me out for coffee, or maybe not.

But, I’d rather believe that you would.

For old times,

For our time’s sake.

We’d walk in silence.

Just like the last leg of our relationship.

Finally reaching somewhere, anywhere,

We’d sit and talk.

About work, pets, life.

Which you and I already know.

4 years is a long time, dear.

The conversation would drag,

The onlookers would smile

At the two friends who are carelessly laughing.

Not a care in the world.

No matter how many hours we sit there,

Trying to escape the tension,

Hiding with smiles.

You’ll ask,

” Do you miss it?”

” If you want a day back from our time, what will it be.”

“Do you love someone now.”

And an array of questions,

Which, if I answered, would hurt you.

But, I will answer one of the questions, if you asked that.

” If you want a day back from our time, what will it be.”

I’d say, without a doubt,

Or a frown,

“I’d want the one, the day you left me,

And decided I wasn’t enough to make you stay.

I’d want to relive that day, just as it was.

No, I won’t stop you.

And just when you’re about to leave,

When you are about to bang that door,

Whose bang still wakes me up in the middle of the night.

I would tell you, everything that I’ve been wanting to say.

All these months, all these minutes.

I’d tell you, our four years, were beautiful.

And you made me cry, you made me yell, you made me smile.

And I’d bid you goodbye.

One that I never had.

With a chaste kiss,

But no promises to drop by.”