Bombay thumps to a constant beat In rhythm with the blood that rushes through her Lanes and veins its way through the Narrower alleyways and streets.
She pumps energy but groans when the sun Shines its presence onto her humble organ; She is happier when it thunders.
Never failing, always feeling. Living her way into the orange streetlights at Queen’s Necklace and the Crowded vada-pav and pav-bhaji stalls and the Snoozing drivers in rickshaws and the Bustling coloured flower markets and the Merry-go-rounds by the salty sea- Pumping her blood to every nook and cranny she can find She shouldn’t leave anyone out.
Bombay throbs with the noise and the pain With the heartbreaks and the tears Offering to stitch the wounds To perform the surgery most dreaded, and still Be alright.
She laughs once the stars are up Pounding for them, living for them when they aren’t clouded. For the city is but a star, Radiating emotions, emitting life, Out into space.
It was tough to wedge the window open. It kept on resisting and Jane could see why. Maybe it was a sign. If it was, she ignored it. This had to happen.
She persisted and it finally gave in. A gush of wind hit her and she could hear her heart pounding loud. Was she thinking straight? In a way, she was just thinking of straight out of the window- but could she do that?
Jane climbed out on the ledge, shivering. She remembered her mother saying she should be brave. Her dad would call her darling, say she was a tiger true to heart. If she was brave then, she could be brave now. All it would take was a jump. And she’d be free.
Sweaty palms. Running thoughts. Blurry worlds. Nauseating and writhing and chafing. Slip and fall and plummet to-
Her phone rang. Her last phone call, she thought.
“Hello?”
“Hi honey, where are you?”
Jane thought this was her breaking point, but instead she laughed sharply. “I’m on the ledge, you know. Maybe this time I’ll fly.”
She shook her head, the tears were always going to come.
“Jane, no. No. You’re not doing this.”
There was silence and sobbing on the other end of the line.
“Jane, listen to me. You still there? Can you go back inside your office? Just a few steps. Come on, you can do this.”
She sniffled and hesitated.
After ten minutes, she’d reached her window again.
“Sit down somewhere, close your eyes, Jane. Take ten deep breaths for me. I’m doing it too.”
Jane blinked away her tears and fought her urge to go back to the ledge. But she did what Mike told her. Ten deep breaths. She could do this.
“You’re doing amazing, Jane, you know? Okay now, open your eyes and look around. What can you see, or smell, or feel?”
“There’s a lot of buildings here, many other offices. I think there’s someone walking their dog in the compound… Pity there’s no one dancing right now.
I can smell waffles from breakfast and also snow. I can feel some of the sun. And it’s pretty breezy. I’m crying too.”
Jane blinked for a couple more moments, before Mike spoke again.
“Now tell me what the sky looks like.”
“Well there are a few clouds, but the rest is a nice blue…”
“Oh yeah? That’s nice. Send me some of that sunshine, it’s been raining here.”
Jane smiled, “Of course.” There was a pause.
“You see the world out there, Jane?” She softened, he went on. “The smell of the wind and the feel of the sun and the breeze on your face. There’s a whole big world out there, and it changes everyday.
Sometimes life is heavy, honey, but there’s so many beautiful things out there. Like waffles and cream for breakfast or walking your dog.”
Jane chuckled and nodded as Mike kept speaking.
“Life is more than your job sometimes. It’s the smell of snow and the feel of the sun and the sight of someone dancing with no care in the world. And if you ever feel overwhelmed, just look up at that sky and see if it’s changing. Because what you’re feeling will change as surely as that sky has.
I promise you.”
Two people, miles apart, connected by a phone line, took a deep breath.
“Thank you, Mike.” There was a lot she wanted to say, but her tears gulped that down.
“Anytime, sweetie. Love you, and I’m always here.”
It gets scary sometimes, when you try to repeat something again and again. You say a word twenty times and it sounds like gibberish. You walk the same road often and you forget you’re walking. You read the same sentences, hear the same phrases, feel the same feeling, so many times, and you forget why it’s special.
It’s scary to realize that if one gets too happy- they forget what happiness truly is. And it aches to realize that maybe if you watch the sunset too often, the sky won’t be as colourful as before. If you try so hard to make these ‘moments’ in life, they won’t be ‘moments’ anymore.
Unless we keep the darker moments, the struggles, in our mind, we won’t be able to appreciate what’s happening. Unless we remember what sadness and tears were like and hold that image in our minds, we won’t be able to realize joy and euphoria- when in front of us.
It’s like being on an airplane, or climbing a mountain. We don’t realize how high up we are till we look down and feel our hearts pounding against the wind. It’s only in realizing our downsides do we enjoy the ups, and it’s only in remembering are we able to move on to newer experiences.
The water whispers in the dead of the night Snippets of an ancient tongue Gurgling, hissing, burbling, brimming with stories long forgotten And tales long faded.
The water listens, but Seeks a listener. It waves to the sweltering rocks, crunching pebbles, buds fighting for space, Passing unnoticed. Unheard.
The water meets the worlds. Sprinting, running away from An invisible monster. In pursuit of a dream, lingering behind the Horizon.
The water reaches out Tentative, nervous, gentle, cooing and hoping The monster may be tamed. In vain. The shadows are coming. The darkness comes-
The water shrinks away, Frosting, crackling, moaning, mumbling Phrases drifting into oblivion. Inching away from fire, shivering, Only in search of a listener To pour itself into.
We all label some events and memories in our lives as the ‘good things’. Once we pass them, we tell ourselves that the good things ‘never last’. That they were meant to go, we were meant to find new ‘better things’, till the whole process repeats itself.
But don’t the good things last?
If you know how to keep them, these things last long. If you can accept that you’ll be sad, and that bad things can happen- the good things will always be by your side. Maybe they’ll be eclipsed by burdens that feel like the weight of the world, or maybe they’ll be buried underneath tears and work, but you’ll be able to find them. They are never lost.
And sometimes, you won’t have to dig deep to find them. Sometimes, they will resurface and greet you warmly- as you fall into the envelope of joy again. We always venture out of that envelope, maybe put it in the back of our pockets; sometimes forgetting about it. But if we look around, think, remember, we’ll be able to dig out that envelope and peek inside.
This envelope won’t give birth to unicorns and glitter, and our lives won’t be full of sparkles and magic. But if we find the strength in ourselves to clutch the envelope of hopes and these ‘good things’ in our fists, we’ll be able to get through.
Life was easier when my whole world boiled down to doll houses and a new remote control car
A world where I wanted to be a fairy when I grew up.
Life was easier when every day was a holiday and I was the protagonist in every story
Stories with a happily ever after.
Life was easier without the times I feel like Atlas holding up the sky
Skies heavy with clouds, laden with storms.
Life was easier back when paranoia was an inexperienced emotion, and worry was invisible
And only pleasure twinkled and smiled.
Life was easier back ‘then’. It always will be.
(There was a pause. She shook her head, and went on.)
Life was easier. But the beauty is in the struggle. In waking up every day. Knowing the world is out there to get you, but being able to storm through life; being as graceful as misty rain, as fierce as the striking thunder.
“I would steal the stars for you. Reach out and gobble them down And you’ll be able to see me twinkle- One last time.
“I can go out bright and burning And you can wave at me as The sky claims me for its own Alleging me for thieving its stars
“I’ll smile at you and shine for you And you can point me out to our kids I’ll be the first of our kind with a place in the skies Catching your kisses at night.
“And so as my soul departs, I can say I stole the stars for you. And though I may not know now, You tell me everyday that it was worth it.”
This is a poem about how long ago, two things- paper and fire, fell in love. They yearned for each other, but every time they met their passion burned strong. And they’d inevitably be ash.
ABLAZE
Flame finds paper, and paper finds flame, They hold on to each other. When you know you’re playing a losing game, You’d want to survive one another.
Paper was pretty, fire was passion, Because love will always trump all. They met often, without precaution, Not noticing their flaws and their fall.
What happens if paper catches fire? What happens if they feel the pain? Will their sun still wear attire? Will their moons still wax and wane?
What happens when love begins to burn? What happens when two powers clash? Time stills as paper and fire adjourn, Only to give way to cinders and ash.
We are made of stories. Of memories of moments. Of blossoms that yearn for ink and paper. Of hearts that pump out instants and lifetimes.
We are made of the special stuff Used in fairy tales Sprinkled and blown away. We’re made of Stars. Drawing from the Sun And the Suns around us.
We are made of tiny things. Pieces from puzzles that don’t fit anywhere, Remnants of a rich story, Dust that blows from castles, Specks of left over coffee, Scraps of golden fabric.
We are made to be human. We break, we bruise, we bleed, But our journey doesn’t stop We don’t stop sewing stories, bottling memories, writing our way through life. We shouldn’t stop.
Milomi's world 