Hey! I hope you are doing well. This book consists of 30 poems I wrote for the National Poetry Writing Month (also known as NaPoWriMo) which is held annually in April. The prompts used were given by the following Instagram accounts- @harnidhk , @thealiporepost , @theartletpoetry and @ttt_official . It was difficult writing a poem every day on various prompts in between of a pandemic but I did it and I was so happy. It also consists of pictures I have clicked over the years. I hope you like them! :)
DAY 1 - Fear.
I have this fear, Of eyes staring at me, Of my ugliness and imperfections; I have torn myself so many times that I don't know who I am anymore.
I have this fear, Of falling in love, Of being touched and strangers, I gave too much to too many people now I'm waging wars inside my heart.
I have this fear, Of watching people die, Of diseases and hospitals, I saw someone close to me die years ago and I still wake up crying every night.
I have this fear, Of people leaving me, Of not being good enough and my failures, I hold onto memories for so long that they etch scars that never go.
I have this fear, That fear is seven metals blades spinning mercilessly, That fear is driving with the rear-view mirror painted all black, and it will be the end of me, someday.
DAY 2- Gratitude.
I swear I'm grateful at least a dozen times a day, my frizzy hair brushing over my face, painted with pimples, the dark circles around my eye, the beautiful smile highlighting my yellow teeth, the cut of my collar bone, my swollen finger and the star shaped burn mark on my wrist, the full-moon shaped birthmark on my right hand, dips of my waist and the bounce of my breasts, the circumference of my belly, lines of growth spread across my hips, shoulder and stomach, thighs that jiggle a lot and the size of my butt, the shape of my feet when I stand on my toes, oxygen that fills my lungs, my heart that still has the capacity to love fiercely, songs I have sung and dance I have danced, the scars that remind me of wars I won, four tattoos reminding me that I will make it through, I swear I'm grateful at least a dozen times a day, but, I strave for hours and days, I think nine times before wearing a crop top, I don't wear sleeveless dresses, I cannot stop running I wish my lungs puncture, I weigh my worth by number of likes on the picture, I know fat is the first thing they notice, body too big, hideous, I swear I'm grateful at least a dozen times a day, and I still fail love myself, choking on my tears, breaking the mirrors, years of learning body positivity yet not being enough, I swear I'm grateful at least a dozen times a day.
DAY 3- Joy.
I find joy in little moments/ the khadak adrakh wali chai my mom makes every morning/ hot chocolate at bean board with my friends/ when my dad shares something funny from his childhood/ talking to an old friend about how much we've grown/ listening to the struggle stories of my dadu/ pictures of my aunt and dadi/ dancing at weddings/ bubble wrapped gifts/ going to beach at 5 in the morning just to hear the sound of waves rushing/ pulling an all nighter with my cousins / listening to my favourite songs on repeat/ his arms around me, his warmth/ long phone calls/ going to class on Sunday and hearing the kids call me baby akka/ smell of a new book/ finding a seat in the bus/ smiling at a stranger who smiles back/ biryani dates at kaloreez/ getting completely drenched in rain/ sharing comfortable silence with someone/ playing Ludo in class with my friends/ that last kiss I shared with him/ looking at the pictures of places I have explored/ motivating myself to workout after a tiring day/ last puff of a cigarette/ getting drunk and jamming on old songs/ eating the whole tub of ice cream/ taking pictures of sunsets/ looking at cat and baby videos all evening/ finding old letters when I clean my room/ having a good hair day/ binge watching all night/ acing an exam I wasn't confident about/ exploring a new city/ crying after watching a movie/ making it through everyday/ writing/ learning/ breathing.. maybe life is all about these little joys rushing in like waves on the shore of time reminding you everyday of the time you smiled.
DAY 4- How do you feel today?
I will tell you I'm doing okay, like everyday but I'm not sure what okay means anymore. My mind is a battleground and I feel like I'm starting to lose the war. I'm chaotic, problematic and full of despair, the closest I come to living is when I feel pain. A burn on the thigh, a slash on the wrist, voices chanting do it, again and again. These voices are locked within me, tightening my lungs, my heart and my spine. It's like somebody is pouring water into a glass that's already full. It's like I'm sailing in a ship but my compass is broken. It's like the walls of my room are closing in on me. I'm drowning, falling, suffocating and losing but if you ask me how I'm feeling today the answer will be okay, I'll always be okay.
DAY 5- Going back to normal.
When I think of normal, I don't honestly understand what it looks like. Maybe it's freedom because what would I not do to just step out of these four walls. I want to go to the beach, watch the sunrise and listen to the sound of waves. I want to run into his arms and kiss him without a fear. I want to meet my friends and dance with them after getting drunk. I want to take a trip to that hill station I have been planning to go to for months. Eat all the junk food that this city has to offer. It feels good to think that maybe normal means freedom but for how long? My mind has so many questions when I think of normal. How will the families get over the fact that they couldn't be there for their loved ones in their last moments? How will we recover the lost time? How long before we pollute the atmosphere again? Do you think we'll remind ourselves to check on our families and friends or is it going to be canceled plans and unanswered phone calls again? Will we really appreciate everyone putting their lives on risk right now? Tell me, will it ever be normal again? When I think of normal, it feels like a lie we're telling ourselves. But then again, aren't lies pretty?
DAY 6- Comfort.
Comfort is a place and I call it home. I can sing aloud, croon softly or belt out lyrics at the top of my lungs. I have a comfy seat, warm feet and a room to wiggle as needed. It is lying, curled up on my unmade bed, surrounded by relics of my childhood, the television audible even through closed doors as my grandfather watches one of his favorite reruns for the millionth time. It is listening to my mum ramble about a new cure she found for the virus on WhatsApp. It is stumbling upon letters from my past while cleaning the room. It is sitting in the furthest back corner of the library, with a book or a journal or a sketchpad in hand to relax with. It is sleeping at unhealthy hours and midnight cooking sessions with YouTube. It is a place where I am reminded to workout out on myself, mentally and physically. It is the wind chime by the window and rain that accompanies its sound perfectly. Home is endless. Home is where I settle in peace and solitude with old photos of lost faces. Right now, home is where I am myself. But on most days, home is knocked doors left unanswered.
DAY 7- Piece of art.
.
Song- Kho Gaye Hum Kahan by Prateek Kuhad.
kho gaye hum kahan, rangon sa yeh jahan we were lying next to each other watching the most beautiful sunrise your hands perfectly intertwined in mine and I swear in that moment, I felt infinite tedhe-medhe raate hain, jaadui imaratein hain mai bhi hoon tu bhi hai yahan the sky is a reminder no matter how far we are you will always have a part of me and I will always have yours khoyi soyi sadko pe sitaron ke kandhon pe hum nachte udte yahan the world is a wild secret, and while you discover it in bits and pieces with someone else I promise to hold on to that magical smile of yours kho gaye hum kahan rangon sa yeh yahan I'm lying on the bed listening to kho gaye hum kahan on repeat and the world smells of lost love, just like yours, just like mine yet I feel at peace, like I'm home.
DAY 8- Touch.
I remember me curled up, listening to your heartbeat. I always got lost in those almond shaped, brown eyes. The innocence, hope and peace of your gaze when you looked at me. I remember you kissing every part of me, finding new skin on my body- the curve of my waist and behind the ear lobe. I remember drawing every scar on your body to mine and your veins pulsing under the skin of your arms, soft and yielding as I press against them. I remember how your tongue began to trace letter after letter, your lips caressing my neck down to my side. Your body moving with such grace, the glistening of sweat and the smell of love. I remember how every one of my sense became loud to your breathing, your cologne, the taste of your tongue, and your finger on my neck. I remember how the excitement built with each exhale and our bodies stirred in rhythm. I remember how you would wrap your arms around me and my lips would break into ten thousand different smile. When I read touch, my body craves yours. I want to be near you, put my head on your chest, listen to your heartbeat until it soothes me to sleep. I want that feeling of your lips kissing my own, my fingers brushing through your hair. I want to be lost in those beautiful, brown eyes of yours. When our bodies touch, it's normal, like they've known each other since forever. Darling, touch has a memory and for me, it's you.
DAY 9- Loneliness.
I don't remember how I got this way and I don't have the answers to your whys but recently the most comfortable place has been my room, with my him beside my side. In the beginning, we fought a lot he gave me tears and headaches and I wanted to crawl out of the bed, out of the room, somewhere I felt safe. There were visitors, many of you, misplaced a lot of things- my trust, my sanity. We found them together, piece by piece placed in a safe and hid the key. Over the years, I have learnt to call loneliness my home. No welcome mat, no slamming door noise, it almost feels like no one was ever here. Over the years, he has made me numb to all the other pain but his. Over the years, I have realized loneliness is a silent, toxic lover and I don't know how to get out of it.
DAY 10- Last day of normalcy.
Just like any other day, the rays of sunlight entered my room the sky was bright blue and soft I sat in my black lounge wear scheduling things I had to do but something felt different everything was calm but not at peace everything was okay but not fine there was fear and chaos schools and colleges got closed, everyone was working from home, maa told me get all the essential I need so I called him up and we decided to meet grey clouds surrounded the moon, he said goodbye and I think it rained that night, every time he goes away, my body dies a little death love, one moment, in another gone maybe if he knew things would be this way, he would have stayed, a little longer he would have hugged, a little tighter.
DAY 11- Craving.
I wish I could be at the beach watch the sun fall behind the horizon, painting the sky shades of red and pink. I wish I could be at the beach sit curled up in the sand feel the softness of it. I wish I could be at the beach wiggle my finger in the water and let my feet sink into the coldness of it. I wish I could be at the beach sip chai, eat Maggi, smoke a cigarette with my friends and him. I wish I could be at the beach it tastes of freedom, it smells of love and that's everything I am craving for.
DAY 12- Letter to my ex.
Dear you,
Years from now when you will be sitting near the window of your car looking at rain drops, I swear that you'll be drenched by my memories. My name will still make your heart beat faster. You will still feel my hands perfectly entwined in yours. Years from now, I will still be the first person you want to share your happy and sad times with. You will still listen to our favourite songs and think about all the times I sang them for you. Years from now, you will still write down the things you want us to do together. You will still re-read the poems I wrote for you. Years from now, you still find yourself in the remains of the love we once shared. Just like I do right now.
yours, -BB.
DAY 13- Recipe for yourself.
Hey! Today we will learn how to make a dreamer or a work of art. This is my masterpiece, pay complete attention, please. The dish isn't anything special, it is quite flawed. It takes a lot of patience and effort to prepare this and serves one. The following are the ingredients you will need1 cup of confidence and hope 1 bowl of prolonged sadness and insecurities 2 cups of happiness 2 table spoon of shattered trust, false promises 3 cup of over-thinking and loneliness 1 tea spoon of skills and ambitions I don't care attitude, sawaad anusar Tears, jitna ho sakte smile cheese to garnish Let's get started!
THE PREPARATION METHOD :
First, take a large bowl and mix all the dry ingredients. Add one cup of confidence and hope and stir it well. Next add 2 cups of happiness and 1 tea spoon of skills and ambitions. Stir all of them properly till you see the beauty of life. Once ready, put it aside. Now, we will mix all the wet ingredients. Take a bowl of prolonged sadness and insecurities. Add 2 table spoons of shattered trust and false promises. Remember to add them one at a time, to intensify the flavor. Mix it well. Now add 3 cups of over-thinking and loneliness. Stir them well till there is no lumps of positivity to be seen. Now, mix the dry ingredients with the wet ones. Stir them till the beauty of life is completely lost in the flavor of suffering. After this, take a large vessel, I'm using a body. Make sure you grease the body with tears, remember to use all you have. Pour the mixture of beautiful life and never ending suffering. Now bake it for 20 minutes with I don't care attitude, add it sawaad anusar. Garnish it with smile cheese so it looks Instagram worthy. You can also sprinkle a lot of self love and beauty filters. You’re ready to go! Enjoy your masterpiece. It tastes better on cold, winter nights when served with a pack of smokes and a bottle of wine.
DAY 14- Favourite place.
my favourite place to be has no sun, no moon or stars to shine but it's a place where I always go to whine my favourite place to be has no trees, no flowers or plants to cultivate but it's a place where all my fears evaporate my favourite place to be has no lake, no sea or oceans to flow but it's a place where all my guards lay low my favourite place to be is completely closed, there is nowhere to run but it's a place for all my loved ones my favourite place to be is built with faith and trust one you cannot outsmart my favourite place to be is a tiny spot, the key to my existence, one that cannot be bought my favourite place to be is the one in my heart, a kaleidoscope of memories of everyone I ever loved.
DAY 15- Toxic.
everyone told us our relationship was too toxic so I searched about toxic relationships on Google and it states 35 signs to help you recognize one I wonder who wrote them, was there a research? they have repeated a few points, you know just like your mind does, repeats the same thing over and over again till you surrender to it is his mind different? no. can a relationship be too broken to ever be fixed? maybe, but do you want to fix is it the real question and then in my mind all of it flashes, the way his voice was louder than that of my mind, (don't you know, on bad days, his voice helps you sleep) the pressure with which he held my hand (what about the warmth of his hugs, those tender kisses, you live for them) the choice of his words when he spoke to me (wasn't making mistakes a part of your relationship, didn't he apologize enough?) the constant suffocation when we were fighting (but darling, what about the comfort, the love, the friendship and oh god, what about the smile you share only with him) out of 35, I think we tick 20 of them, maybe the odds were never in our favor and so we say goodbye, like the rest of them another love, lost to the tragedies of the world
it's been six months since we broke up and since then i have recorded 645 calls of him he says my name 19871 times and sings me to sleep 151 times every time my thoughts are too loud and I cannot slept at nights my heart yearns for his voice it's the only place I find my peace and tonight, is one of those nights so I decide to play one from the 645 in his sweet voice, he sings, Tera milna hai uss rab ka ishaara Maano mujhko banaya tere jaise hi kisi ke liye.. and it still feels real like there's no one else in the world I would rather be with.
He shifts to another song when he hears me laugh Tu dil tui yon jaan meri Main tenu samjhawa ki Na tere bina lagda jee for a moment, I forget, I smile like I'm really happy, like I'm loved and you can see it in my eyes, you can feel it on my lips, my whole body feels alive but I am interrupted by his voice he asks if I am pretending to be asleep and when I don't answer he realizes I have really slept, so he pauses and says love you my heart aches and i tell myself it's not real, it's not real but just for tonight, I play it on repeat, let myself feel the happiness, the care, the love, him and then I say goodbye again, stop the recording and sleep, peacefully.
DAY 16- When I look at you..
when I look at you I wonder if I will see you again , laugh with you again, touch you again, you're four meters away and your empty eyes lead me to your hollow soul I can see the darkness swallowing the whole of you I can see how your soft sobbing turns into a hyperventilating attack and all the games you have played with the worst part of yourself are accompanied by a blade to attack I can see how your skin is now pale as paper hardened from the years of harm you seek secrets under your nerves and find honesty in that addiction of yours I can see how a jubilant little girl has changed in a devolving women with an unsure future that now describes her. when I look at you, I see a reflection of myself and everything I feel I quietly shut the door as the drip of liquid hits the floor you're gone, like a puff of smoke and finally, we rest in peace.
DAY 17- Outside the window.
Song - Khidkiyan by Dream Note.
Khidkiyan khol ke rakhna jara Ayega raashta koyi Ankhein na meechna jaagna sahi Roshini raste mein hogi outside my window the rain drops hits the ground thunder rumbled in distance silencing all the voices of the demons in my room there was a flash of light it wasn't from the sky it was a car passing by and for a second I thought of you holding flowers and chocolates just like old times, the good times
Darr tum ko kaisa jo main na hoon wahan Tumhare hi liye hoon ye khat Mai likh raha Jo padhlo to muskurana Pyaar se yun hi I find the box lying beside me the flowers have dried up they don't smell of love anymore except the golden shimmer rose it still shines, just like your eyes carefully, I take it out of the box and I remember you told me flowers don't die, they live forever in memories, in books, in hearts of sensitive lovers, like you and me
Tum akele nahi ho Tum sa kahin hai koyi Mil ke gungunayenge Geet yahi hum kabhi the box holds the only letter you gave it was 4:47 on a Monday morning I remember, we fought all night you asked me to look outside the window and you were there, all drenched in rain that was the last time we met I decide to open that letter, finally and it says, after the storm has passed I'll be there with you, till then look at sky, every time you think of me.
DAY 18- Power.
I have always wanted adventure since I was a child I wanted to believe I belonged to purple skies, unfamiliar roads and tall mountains. I wanted to believe I could stand up and fight against powers being misused. I wanted to believe I was free but I was taught that I'm fragile that freedom was an illusion that the world outside is scary and unkind that I shouldn't speak too loud or else I would be the next one to die.
I was told it's our fault if we're the victims of abuse because we love fashion skirts and dress that show our skin red lipstick is worn to seduce loose hair meant that I'm easy and the only job we deserved was to cook. So I took all the precautions, I wore a salwar kameez with dupatta I never spoke too much or too loud wore no lipstick and tied my hair in a bun married a guy my parents chose and all I did was cook for him.
But there were scars everywhere one from when he was angry and pushed me away towards the wall, two when his food wasn't sweet enough he clapped my face with a thud, three was when I asked him to stop he choked my neck till I passed out. You see, I always wanted adventure so I ran, towards the purple skies, unfamiliar roads and tall mountains. My purple bruises were my power against a society that lacked strength. I let my hair loose and wore red lipstick as a sign of my undying freedom. I learnt that people who know what's right find people who teach them how to fight.
DAY 19- Fine.
if you were to ask me how do I really feel today I would tell you I am fine because there is nothing worse than not being able to explain what you feel or how you feel when you don't even know If you feel anything even though everything just seems to hurt.
DAY 20- Anger.
Art by Nupur Sharma.
I understood anger before I could understand words papa's hand never knew when to stop and sometimes when he was tired he would use a stick or a belt or a hot rod at first, I used to ask him to stop, I used to cry but then I realized my helplessness made him powerful so I didn't utter a word in front of him used to sit under a shower to cry he could never hear the howls of his daughter I spent nights trying to search for an answer, an escape I felt worthless, was this all I deserved? I could never really blame him what would a man do if a girl was too loud? what would a man do if his wife wasn't around? what would a man do if this was the only way he was taught to let his pain out?
I learnt anger before I learnt to talk it is boiled deep in my system like a black plague- it's dangerous always hungry for destruction the pressure of this raging war makes me do things, say words I do not mean to, I'm sorry trapped beneath my being is nothing but rotting hatred everything I touch dies the only way out of here is if you run just like I did, when I was nine.
darling, my anger doesn't yell there isn't a hint until it's too late but if you look too closely, you will still find the scared child who never got the love she craved
DAY 21- Stay.
Maybe when all this is over you will decide to meet me we will take a walk on the beach and talk about everything we did in our quarantine. Maybe when all this is over we will go the museum the one with the planes talk about all the trips we should have taken we will talk about the movies that made us cry at night and songs we fell in love with.
Maybe when all this is over we will go to our favourite restaurant and you will let me have the first bite we will go to your terrace look at the sunset while you play your guitar and I write a poem for you. Maybe when all this is over we will go on car rides we will go to the movie theater we will go to the bar and get drunk and at the end, when I am tired you will sing me to sleep.
Maybe, when all this is over and you come back home I hope you decide to stay darling, please, just stay.
DAY 22- What if..
what if I told you I can't stand what I see, that I can't sleep because the voices that scream on full volume tell me I'm ugly I always feel heavy, like I am a thousand pounds of useless space what if I told you I obsessively count calories that I eat too little or too much, there's no in between I exercise-day and night but it still doesn't feel right I have bruises on my spine from doing sit-ups all night what if I told you the one thing that people remember about me is my weight that my aunt always gifted me baggy t-shirt never crop tops or short sleeves all those names my friends gave for fun still haunt me sports and fashion show were never meant for me what if I told you I feel too much, I have too much- flesh and muscle that I have always felt like a foreigner in my body
what if I told you my parents always remind me that I'll never be worthy of love because that's only for beautiful people the ones who are skinny the ones who are tall those on magazine and television shows but what if I told you I don't want that kind of love that I hate this society the one that makes me feel uncomfortable in my own body I really like my body rolls I enjoy working out and I enjoy eating too I'm happy, beautiful and smart
what if I told you I don't want to be skinny, I just want to be me would you still accept me? tell me, would you still love me?
DAY 23- Grief.
my grief withers the world around me she lives in the room next to mine and wear clothes of someone who died in the bed years ago my grief sings in her sad voice she wails and howls every night her music tastes of tears emptiness and regret all the time my grief fits me like a glove she covers me entirely and leaves a smell of her touch on the walls and cracks of my skin my grief knocked no doors she slipped in quietly she made herself comfortable on my dadi's bed years ago my grief is all I have of a love that my heart won't let go of.
DAY 24- Love letter to you.
dear you,
I know we don't talk much and sometimes I ignore the very existence of you, lie to you, call you things but this time I am here to apologize, to tell you the truth and I want you to know you are all I have and you are all I need.
i. I want you to know I am really sorry for not believing in you for lying to you about your worth, your capabilities for being too harsh when all I was supposed to do was love you. ii. I want you to know I really like it when you dance and sing. I know I made you think it's embarrassing. I am sorry for that. You look happy in your besuri voice and tedhe-medhe steps. I want you to know that you deserve happiness, all of it and more.
iii. I want you to know I have tried to end everything you were because I used to think you are not enough. I am sorry for that. You have so much light and love in you that you can make anything shine and warm, even if it was snowing outside. iv. I want you to know the marks that human leave are too often scars and it isn't your fault. I am sorry I made you feel like something was wrong with you. I promise, no matter how many scars you hold my words will always help you heal and grow.
v. I want you to know that life is beautiful, you are beautiful and no one, not even me has the right to make you feel otherwise. I am sorry for all the times I did and was too hard on you. I want you to know it's okay to pause once in a while to appreciate the nature and yourself. Rest for a while, B.
I know we don't talk much but I want us to. I'm here to pick you up and put back everything I broke till you learn to stand on your own till you learn to love yourself, again. We will pause for today and begin again tomorrow or whenever you are ready. B, I want you to know you are all I have and you are all I need.
love, the one on the outside
DAY 25- Dreams.
Few weeks ago, I dreamt of us we were dancing together to one of our favourite songs you held me by my waist and leaned forward to kiss me on my forehead. I told you how romantic you are sometimes then you held my hand and said the world is nothing but romance scattered everywhere in bits and pieces All you need to do is collect what is yours to which I replied you are my piece, you will always be am I... before I could complete you were gone and I woke up.
I haven't slept properly since the dream and you. I could never control my dreams or my mind. On most days I don't remember what I dream. I wish I could forget this one because my mind has many questions only you can answer.
I want to know is she your piece of romance or am I? I want to know are you real or just in my mind?
DAY 26- Second Chance.
maybe the time wasn't right or maybe our love wasn't enough because how we ended was chaos and catastrophe but if you were to come back ten or fifty years from now and ask for a second chance I would wrap it in the most beautiful cover and give it to you because there will always be a place in my heart only for you.
DAY 27- Land-line.
my dadu says love is cake walk for you you have found absurd ways to find the right one you make your profile on tinder and bumble and put yourself on sale swipe left on a fancy bio with the edited picture and you are in love again in his time love was a struggle he could not see or talk to dadi everyday and mobile phone was a luxury he could not afford he used to wait for Tuesdays to call her on the landline when her mom would go to the market and the only picture he was in his heart from the day he saw her in blue salwar kameez at a cousin's wedding. for two years their love survived distance by writing letters and those one a week landline calls in the hope that someday they would meet again
after their marriage when dadu left for work and dadi used to stay with his parents and kids 1400 miles away from him phone was still a luxury he could not afford so he used to call her on the landline every day before he slept he used to carry a picture of their marriage in his wallet because that's the only picture he had of hers it took him five years before he settled and asked dadi to shift with him again, their loved survived because of the landline calls a black and white photograph
my dadu says in his time phone was a luxury and now, love is one maybe if you only had Land-lines and written letters you would know that love requires patience and care and your love would also last for seventy nine years and forever just like his did even though it has been two years since dadi left him here
DAY 28- Dance.
If I were to ask you to dance with me would you say yes? you know, I am not really a dancer but I want to perform all the dances of love like Rumba, Salsa and Bachata with you we will learn to keep up with our elegant and sophisticated moves to the rhythm of music and our hearts beating our bodies would sway from hip to hip toe to toe lip to lip like we were always one letting all our worries, pain and sorrow go and if by the end of our dance my breath is taken away you would know the exact reason why how beautiful it would be your hand in mine so answer me, If I were to ask you to dance with me would you say yes?
DAY 29- Write.
when I was a child I learned to draw strokes lines, curves and figures I learned to play guitar chords and strumming patterns but you see, my hands were always unsteady lines were never straight curves were never round I could never change chords or strum properly to make music my hands gave up after eight months
when I was a child I learned to dance rhythmic and energetic steps I learned karate kicks and punches but you see, my legs were always clumsy I could never move gracefully or keep up with the music I could never balance my body or coordinate my kicks with punches my legs gave up after a few classes
when I was a child I used to come back home not feeling good enough because I couldn't be a dancer or an artist I barely felt a human my journal was my only friend she would listen as I would write words that would rhyme to the sound of my cry I would write words that drew beautiful valleys I would write words that became my strength and now, after all these years all I want to do is just write my words
DAY 30- Goodbye.
lately, I haven't been myself the whole world screams of pain, sorrow, lost hope and death a new type of ghost haunts me
the first thing I do in the morning is check the number of deaths caused by the virus my heart sinks a little for all those who couldn't say their goodbyes to their families and friends
in the beginning, death was an acquaintance the first time we met, I was 18, looking at a 90 year old man I called nanaji, my dadi's father everyone said death is inevitable that it was his time, so I accepted and said my goodbye
the same year, one of my favourite singer Chester Bennington committed suicide and it was 2 a.m. when I got the news I cried the whole night, it felt wrong I was angry and in so much pain I still find myself crying when someone plays one more light that was his last song, a goodbye that saved so many lives but couldn't save him
the next year, 2018, death was called a disease liver cancer, stage four I watched life being slowly sucked out of my aunt she was always a fighter but this time her body gave up she said her goodbyes hooked up to machines struggling to breathe the same year, two months later death was loss of a loved one Dadi and I were on the same bed when it happened, the loss of her child marked the end of her life, her hope I remember my last words to her were "Ay heroine, dekho kaun aaya" that was the last time she responded it was her goodbye to me and she was gone, lying on the bed
since that day, death and I sleep in the same bed I cried when I read about the trains carrying dead bodies in 1947 I cried when I saw videos from Italy I cried when Nairobi was shot right now, I can't stop crying even though death isn't personal pain is real, even if it's not yours and today, the sound of goodbyes has reached its crescendo.
Thank you for taking the time to read this. For any quires you can contact me at : Email - bhavyabang99@gmail.com Instagram - bhavyaaa99