Wake up (please?)

The stillness in here is sad and suffocating,
There’s this sense of desolate dejection in these walls that are not even painted, just plastered on with shades of contaminated chloroform and never-ending narcotics,
I’ve never seen you as unmoving as you are now, there’s just so much rushing everywhere,
But the blood inside your veins doesn’t rush, not even a tiny bit,
So, they draw the sheets and dress you in these robes and dozens of wires and liquids,
But you hate clothes with tinges of purple,
Who would tell them that?
You are battered and bandaged, I’m breathless and broken,
But they don’t pay any heed to the exhaustion that forces me on the only plastic chair nearby,
Not that I care,
We need to focus on fixing those lungs that long for life,
In this urgency that reeks of stifling antiseptics and overwhelming dizziness,
The sound of your hysterical laughter rings in my ears,
Eulogising the little infinity that we’ve spent together, I sing aloud of the countless starry nights we’ve spent together counting celestials to anyone who’d listen,
Touching wooden doors and broken window frames, I plea the skies to preserve us,
The accustomed acquaintance between our souls feels so distant right now,
What wouldn’t I give to listen to the sound of a routine heartbeat,
When this sorrow surpasses my sanity, I walk around the narrow corridor, echoing of shrill screams and wailings, with an awful abundance of anticipations, perusing painful pleadings,
Here, they all wait, in sheer desperation, they all pray, in utmost helplessness,
We all choke in this chaotic consciousness, breathing but not so much, acknowledging the horrors of the brutal reality with a shudder,
My numbing nausea is envious of your unconsciousness,
And how it remains ignorant to this sound of the world falling apart,
This sound that only I can hear.

I find myself struggling to search for your hand, to hold it, to let myself know,
More than you, that we’re not alone in this,
I find myself listing all the things that I love about you,
I wish it consisted that you take care of yourself, always,

Cold and lifeless,
Your hands are still your hands, as I hold them.
If you can hear me in this agonising Anastasia,
Preserve yourself, for the sake of all that’s good and pure in this world,
Let go and let life come,
I don’t know what to do,
But to hold you while craving to be held,
Wake up,
Wake up, you idiot,
Wake up.

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Between those shades of blue

This feeling of blues arising at this station shaded in one of the most calming hues of azure is so real that it almost hurts. Although I realise it shouldn’t, but somehow it does, and these infinite flashbacks of seemingly minute moments just come haunting back. These images, of the ghost of the past, brings along this grieving epiphany of the actuality of Evanescence, of fleeting moments and minutes and semesters. Everything seems to be running with a faster pace, somehow it feels that the time it took to travel from this station called Mandi house to that called Jhandewalan is seemingly less, and that brings this frightening feeling of fading away, of not only passing of time, or of semesters or of papers, but of people, of the fear of falling out of feelings, of growing out of things, of things changing because of the dreadful distancing that distance can do, of dozens of misunderstandings that can be thrown our way. And how taking the metro back to those four-walled structures is not going to fix that, how the absence of these rides to those pale yellow buildings with concreted grounds and amphitheatre with all shades of autumn, the sounds of laughter, the paradoxical puns regarding nothing and everything, having great expectations from these seemingly hard times, and these rides, struggles to grab these grey colored seats, favorably the corner ones near the iron poles with their unique vantage points and offering the better part of air conditioning, the endless ringing of phone and the dreadful yet familiar aspect of getting late, every single day, haunts the very core of my soul at this very moment. How at last when you have seemingly found this very rare feeling of home and peace in these very pursuits of golden sunsets, feeling of awe over the aestheticism that those houses hidden beneath the lushness of trees or of the adorable doughnuts, or over the serenity presented by those metro stations at the other side of the city, the strangeness of these strangers that are busy in their own endeavors, everyone with their own stories and own little part in the world, and in those words you’ve licked so ardently, how that feeling feels slipping away, like the last metro of the hour, like the last vestige of sundown. And even as you realise that that aurora is near, that it’s almost here, this fear of falling at the brink of something beautiful, of having it almost make it to you or you making it to it, terrifies you.

You realise that the dawn is probably nearer than the stations between ramesh Nagar and Nawada. But with every passing station that brings you back to the screaming, suffocating stillness, the shades of blue seemingly increases. You fail to witness the drooping daylight as you find yourself burning in this heat, which is almost ironical and majorly weird owing to the icy numbness you feel inside.
What does it matter? That’s not the question anymore, it’s how does all of it matter so much that you begin to fear it. The prospects of what the future entails and the reminiscence of these moments you’ve just left behind, all devouring you in them, completely, and you, drenched in the infinite fears and guilts fail to breathe in this very moment.
The moment this realisation enters your mind, the door to metro opens and you realise that it’s just Tilak Nagar, there remain, still around four stations. And the pale sky outside, bathed in this summer madness will attain your favorite shade back someday, very soon, hopefully. And probably this shade is somebody’s favorite too, this feeling helps you breathe a little lighter, as you realise that this, probably is not the last ride after all, and while these fears will ultimately find their way in the labyrinth of your complexes, this feeling, this aftertaste of doughnut called coffee toffee or the excessive cheese in this pizza, while your mouth pains due the excessive smiles you’ve smiled today, they are to remain. And no matter what happens, nobody can steal it or force it away from you. With this feeling, and with Jason Mraz playing in the background, you begin to breathe in the blueness of the blue line of Delhi metro, setting your mind free to the unblemished horizons of the skyline, and the sounds of these laughters, which you perhaps adore the most in the world, probably even more than that of Sheeran finds their way back to you.
So you breathe in the familiar running in circles before pausing for some two months or something, trying to not live in denial or despondence,
And you revel over the last two minutes of this metro journey, thinking out loud of this metro musing before steeping out of this trance.
You hold the iron pole, clinging on to it, just a little longer, letting it know that you’ll miss it, all of it, a little more than too much,and how much you look forward for everything new and old to happen,
All over,
Again.
Some other day,
Some other semester,
Very soon.
Soon enough,
I guess.

The last musing

Tonight,
I’m sad.
Tonight,
I feel lonely.
My hands slipped in pursuit of yours,
There,
Where you no longer are.
I got to witness the happiest shade of white when we rambled on and roamed around, did I ever tell you that?
With you,
I felt the desperation in my soul taking the best of me, urging me to move away from those agonising anxieties.
And now,
As I imagine you being mesmerized by the beauty of those starry nights, lost in the song of some Nightingale that sings in a distance the tunes of tranquility,
Stroking the petals of daisies drenched in golden hues falling tenderly in that hour of twilight,
That the substantiality of your surrounds overshadows my incorporeality,
That you cannot hear the ethereal echoes alluding to our times over these hushed whispers about the screaming sinners.
In one of these impassioned nights like these, we allowed our souls to spill stories we had kept hidden inside for centuries, do you remember that?
We howled in inaudible murmers, about passions for poetry, hunger for freedom, the craving for being a part of something bigger than ourselves, expressed out fears about those forevers that flicker, wondering aloud if it was love that would fill this ceaseless abundance of nothingness.
And now,
As I find myself falling in that very abyss of emptiness,
The gap between my fingers seem interminable,
Your presence impalpable,
These tears that tear me apart vaporize and I wonder,
If at least they’ll find their way to you through the West wind,
If not my words or my love.
Tonight,
I feel lonely, and your absence seems inexplicable.
I know not how to survive this dearth that seems to remain,
I can only imagine you revelling over some reverie, over some ephemeral eclipse, as blossoms bloom and fireflies glide in that stillness.
If my words reach you a little too late,
Please know,
That my despondence felt desperate,
Apprehensive at these anticipations,
That it wanted nothing but to be held and reminded of our promises, of us, craved for the touch of your hand against mine.
Know that you were the last dream of my soul,
And my last musing,
And muse.

Shelters

It just feels like,
I’m hiding in the shadows,
Sitting under the shelter of my blue study table,
Wishing for the wishing stars,
Wishing for you,
And I hear voices, all around,
It seems like the whole world is on fire,
And it looks like I forgot to lock the doors, the window panes are shattered, already,
And the device is draining,
And this room is devoid of electricity, of water, of everything
But
This devastatingly enormous void,
Which even fear cannot fill,
They’re burning all we’ve ever loved, all we’ve ever been,

All, to ashes,
And I’m frozen here,
With fear,
Anxious in agitation,
Annoyed at my own apprehensions,
How would you call me?
And would you, even ?
If your voice is locked up in this fearful night,
That has no ends,
No dawn awaiting our arrival,
.
Securing myself into seclusion,
This screaming solitude,
The inferno echoes,
Burns with these passions that nobody cares about,
As everyone just runs and runs,
Trying to add a few more moments in their lives,
Pleading guilty, pleading helplessness,
Howling for help,
.
Trembling in these terrors,
I don’t know my way out,
And it becomes harder to breathe, every second,
But I promised you that I’d survive,
I don’t know how to,
I don’t want to,

Another explosion,

Where are you?

Things I wish I had told you

One of those nights really broke me,
Did I ever tell you that?
I lay awake, thinking about things that seemingly arise from nothing and end up taking everything, and things that began at everything and ended up being absolutely nothing.
I walked around in the dead of night, not knowing what else to do, searching for some trail to follow, something that could bring me out of this phase, where things have just stopped making sense, where I’m just questioning almost every single thing that has ever happened.
At the end of the corridor I found this photograph, an attempt to preserve memories for eternity, I looked at it for a moment,
And haunting visions entered my mind.
Did I ever tell you that?
And right now,
As I’m walking on some familiar way, with these many thoughts, all of them so intense, that I somehow find myself unable to express any one of them,
I see this spot.
I remember this place,
This was where he breathed his last,
And all these years,
I’ve just told myself that I was his favorite, only now do I realise the incongruity of my happy pretences, we didn’t have enough time together for him to actually get to know me,
And, now, as I realise that,
I realise he’ll never really know how I turned out to be.
I didn’t know how to deal with this feeling six years back,
I don’t know how to deal with this feeling even now.
They never taught me that,
I think they never taught anybody that.
At the age of fifteen, when I had my first heartbreak, I did not know what to do, but I did know how to calculate the principal amount through compound interest,
Somehow they informed us to love all animals and about the number of injections one gets if bitten by the same animals, all in the same voice.
To this day, I’m afraid of dogs,
Even as I love them,
I’m scared of injections, hospitals, blood, fatigue,
Did I ever tell you that?
One of the major reasons why I’m so afraid of forevers is because I just can’t seem to believe that anybody would be willing to take that extra mile for and with me,
Did I ever tell you that?
And all those times,
In which i just went wrong, which just altered all the paths, changed everything, everything,
Much before I was ready,
I still don’t understand how that happened,
And I spend hours and hours circling names of people, trying to understand the meaning of this eternal sadness of the spotless mind.
And as this overwhelming darkness begins to take in it any of the light left around, and I’m just lying on the bed, because these brittle bones shiver, and I cannot feel my arms or my legs or anything, anything,
Numb to everything but this feeling, which is absolutely inexplicable, where there’s just so much pain, so much fear, so much helplessness, and you don’t know what to seek, what to do, how to get out of this, this abyss.
I almost walked on a flower today,
I felt like destroying something beautiful, something precious, something pure, hoping that someone would take notice, that maybe annihilation would be the way to achieve peace,
And this portrait of this lady just flashes in my mind who once told me that she thought I was beautiful and died much before I could tell her that I thought so too.
And I wish I could have told you,
How scared I am, of every passing second,
Because while every single moment is the beginning of something or the other,
The other moment is the end.
And this thought, it scares me, that maybe these words that I write to you,
This might be the last conversation we ever have.
Because that apocalypse, it’ll be here much before we anticipate it to be.
And neither religion nor science would save us then,
Maybe not even love,
And, when that moment comes,
What would we do then?
When everything will just sort of fall apart,
And it hurts me to think about all those things that’ll just never be,
All those caterpillars that will just never turn into butterflies,
And punching walls or wishing upon airplanes or counting stars would never stop that,
Starting at the sky would not make it easy,
Those words that we lick with such affection, I’m not sure if they’d survive either,
And this moment, no matter how it is, it’ll end up in a bunch of ‘..has been..’,
And all of our almosts will come back to haunt us,
And I wouldn’t be able to save you when it comes,
Because I don’t know how to survive myself,
So now
As the sky sheds water, and I tears,
I just wish to tell you that I’d be eternally grateful,
Always, because of the fact that you exist.
And I wish I could tell you how much I loved you, how much I love you,
But we were never taught how to do that either.
I wish i could tell you how ardently I wish to just seize our little infinity, and never, ever let it go.
I wish that this wind chime in my room understands my symphony,
Because I’m not sure if you ever will,
And these attempts at ranting or revelling will all go in vain,
As you’ll have to put me under the label of spam,
Which,
Is why,
I can only wish that I could tell you all these things,
Tell you when everything is fine and yet everything hurts, as the clock strikes thirteen and all the trains have left and all the places closed and,
There’s no space in the waiting room,
And nowhere to go,
That
I don’t know what to do.
And now,
As everyone prepares for the final day,
And the realisation that everything is going to collapse is finally taking in everybody’s mind,
And,
You’re somewhere in a far off city,
Miles away from where we used to be and even further from where I am,
And,
There’s no summoning charm to save us this time,
And everything is set to fall apart,
I can only ask you to run,
To save theeself,
As I choke on my own breath,
Trying to not let the ghosts of my unsaid words find their way to you,
Run and save yourself,
Please do,
Make it to the other side,
For your sake,
For the sake of those golden sunsets and flickering lights and magical nights and poetry books,
For the sake of those words that actually found their way to you.
While I’ll let my fears consume me and let my ashes dissolve in the stardust, hoping that you’ll make it, hoping that you’ll be happier.
.
And I took a sip of that hazelnut coffee

,

When you weren’t looking,

Back then,

.

I wish I had told you that.

No more reasons why.

So,
I guess all I want to say is,
That the next time,
You get an unexpected text,
Or an unanticipated call,
Or any abrupt attempts in making acquaintances,
Maybe not leave your device ringing.
Maybe not leave the person hanging,
Maybe,
Maybe listen, and not just hear the words that they say,
Find just a little time from your everyday marathons, and maybe decipher the actuality in their smiles,
Not everyone is strong enough to fight all of their battles on their own,
Pay a little heed to those times when they say, ‘.. I wish I had told you that..’
Just let them be,
When they say they feel this drowsing numbness in their bones, and that they feel that they cannot do it anymore,
Maybe revert to those emails or those postcards,
And maybe, some day,
Reply to that text,
There’s never too late to try and save a life.

And some people, they just measure their lives in coffee spoons and sugar cubes,
And they might be okay with those dozens of cups of coffee that turns cold,
While they wait,
Waiting for you to show up.
But honey,
There’s a chance that when the sun sets,
And they dim the lights to this cafe,
Asking them to step out of their comfort zone,
And stagger their way down the road,
And just go home,
There’s a high chance,
That,
They don’t have any home to go back to,
And now,
With no place to wait, no escape,
They might have nowhere to go,
None,
At all.

Crisis.

How do we escape this overwhelming sorrow that arises out of the simple monotony of everyday complications, this despondence that has the power to force you on the ground, on your all fours, as you howl like a maniac, silently, as your eyes try and try to search for something coherent in the darkness that surrounds you,

This loneliness that nobody can fulfill, this very weakness that you despise for wanting a human connection, as you scorn these ideas of togetherness and forevers, as you’ve been scorning them ever since you remember, because people leave, you don’t want them to leave, you cannot say anything to them, but you don’t want them to leave and they shan’t ever understand your silent nods of approval, as you’re dying slowly, bit by bit, you know this feeling, do you not?

When you’re so exhausted, you don’t want to, not anymore, and you cannot share this feeling with anyone, because they’ve got their own wars to fight, their own lot to handle,

You were good before, were you not? Living in a protective bubble of fantasies and everything nice in this world, but they forced you out,

Much before you were ready,

In this mad, very mad world, who’s just running in a race you’re supposed to run in too, you don’t understand this, and yet,

Where is the victory, where are the survivors, who would you turn to, for a 3 AM conversation, what would you do when you’d have a nightmare, where would you laugh at little success in your endeavors,

This sadness, it surrounds you,

Breaks you,

And you don’t even have the time to break apart, so you just hold on to everything you have, because exams are round the corner and everyone needs your help and wants you , anticipates you to stay happy for ever and ever and ever,

Not realising that you take forever to be a myth,

How do you stop this sadness from taking your soul,

How do you escape this,

How do you survive,

And do you, even?