Mind Traveling

 

Sometimes I feel I can time travel, or perhaps mind travel.

When I am standing in the shower, my body soaked in filth and wrath whilst my mind begins transitioning into a distant reality; I am unable to open my eyes.

I don’t know how to acknowledge my present: the monster which haunts me only in the dark. Its roars send ripples down my spine paving a path for doubts and fears which are almost unknown to me. My body is as shook as my soul, if not more. I have abused my flesh and tortured my physical existence in the past so as to be able to stop submitting to the emptiness inside my heart but now that my body and soul deteriorates at the same pace; how do I stop myself from hurting; bruising; scarring?
How do I stop a beating heart from decaying?

My eyes are still shut tight. No movement. The water is beginning to feel heavy on the bruises. Let me stay here for a little while longer. I wince. I smile. I submit to the incapability of being able to differentiate between the physical turmoil and emotional pain.
‘It will all go away’; the self-consolation takes over the lingering self-pity.

There are flashes, some vivid and some not so vivid. I was 8 just yesterday when both mum and dad used to clasp my hands so tight whilst crossing the road as if I’d slip through from between their fingers. I was 16 just yesterday and my dad didn’t believe that I needed to learn to tie my shoelaces with him around. I was 20 just yesterday when mom would stay awake late at night in a different time zone, waiting for me to return home.

Am I still soaked in wrath or is it guilt now? 

How can I take my raison d’être, who do everything in their power to protect me, for granted? The opportunities are washing off at my shore. The ticking clock only makes the stakes higher. I doubt my ability to make good decisions: for now, any decisions at all. How very convenient to excuse myself from a life brimming with why-nots instead of what-ifs. Checkmate.

My eyes are dry, and my heart is numb. I blink. My emotions are running high and my mind is playing games. I blink again adjusting to the yellow light in the bathroom. I bury my face in my wet palms and then gradually start moving my hands all the way to the back of my head until my arms are resting against my body. At this point, I need to insert a hypothetical full stop to my stubborn thoughts before I can shut the water off in the shower. This is how it ends, every single time. I silently moan as the present pulls and tugs at my flesh and bones.

I am alive on the outside, but I wonder if even an ounce of life is left in the smallest fragment of my existence.

Mother and Father even today protect me the same in whatever way they can, oblivious to my concurrent reality. Who is to tell them that it has been a while since the responsibility has been shifted and to tell the truth, I have done quite a shit job at it.

 

---

Image Source: https://www.google.com/images

The Warrior Spirit

The first time when he touched her,
He claimed her soul to his breath,
She decided for his heart to be her home,
And together they vowed to never give it up,
Then one day, he took away her tomorrow,
Blended her boundless love with unlimited sorrow,
Since then, she had only known her shadow,
To be her ally in the darkness alone,
For every night when he was away,
She chose to drown in his memory,
Every morning when she woke up to an empty life,
She chose to deny the truth,
So she could surrender to the endless pain,
That pierced through her self-esteem,
Whenever she tried to say goodbye,
To the world they created together,
While he had left her behind to savor their doom,
She played with the broken pieces,
Of her withering and flickering heart,
So she could fool it just one last time,
With the hope that he will return,
And claim her to himself all over again,
But until then, she would survive the pain,
With a smile on her face,
And the warrior-spirited woman she is,
So don’t be late this time, she would be waiting.

---

Image Source: All Rights Reserved With: https://www.globalunison.wordpress.com

Diary of Nobody -II-

Today I woke up with a pain in my chest, mainly on the left side. You must have been missing me. Does she not take care of you like how I used to? Does she not put your clothes out on the bed while you are in the shower so you don’t have to fish through the cupboard? Does she not prepare breakfast for you before you have to leave for work? Does she even know that you love to eat vegetable-cheese omelette in the breakfast? Does she know that you are allergic to any kind of household work? Does she love you the way I do?

You remember when the first time we moved in together, you told me to never toast bread in the toaster for you. You always liked to make toasts on the pan. I would grease the pan with butter and then spread butter on both sides of the bread and make a golden brown toast for you. You would get annoyed if the corners of the toast were burnt but when I would offer to make another one, you’d always refuse and tell me that you enjoy the crispy corners. I would smile to myself and think that you were the most terrible liar I knew. Over the time, I learnt that if I had burnt the toast, I should make a new one without asking you. You were all about formalities although eventually you would agree for what you want but formalities were necessary in your book of code and conduct. You had to pretend to care to make me feel good and once you were done making me feel special, you’d be like, ‘You’re the wife, know your role.’ I could never stop laughing after that.

The omelette was your favorite in the breakfast (of course with lots of chopped green chillies and red chilli flakes). You always liked it if I would not break the omelette on the pan while flipping it. With time, I mastered that art and I thought of myself as the best omelette chef in the world. You loved my cooking. When I would bring our breakfast in the room; you would once in a while surprise me with a clean and tidy bed. You knew I had a thing for the bed. I always wanted the bed to be made and be clean and tidy. However, you wouldn’t always do it. Your idea was that when I expected it, it shouldn’t be done but when I didn’t; you would make the bed. Your inconsistency and spontaneity always caught me. I remember how you used to look at my disappointed face when the bed was not made and to tease me further, you would put your arms around me from behind, giggle and whisper in my ear that you love to surprise me and watch my expressions. I wonder how we knew each other so well. I wonder how you could ever leave when you told me you saw your God in me.

I loved those times even better when you’d have to go early to work and then return by mid-day. I always liked to wake up with you and see you off (maybe that’s why you always told me that I was the perfect wife-material). When you had to go early, you preferred drinking juice instead of eating breakfast in the morning. However, when it was time for you to return after few hours, I would prepare breakfast for you. I loved to wait on you and would always be looking for you from our apartment’s window (imagine me and my race: kitchen and room, kitchen and room – Such a restless soul). Usually, you’d have the key of the apartment so when you would return; you wouldn’t go to the room (to keep your bag and stuff) or use the toilet (even though sometimes you had to use the toilet very bad because you didn’t like to use public toilets) but you would straight away come to the kitchen, hug me from behind and kiss my mouth. That was your routine. Sometimes, you would be running to the toilet after kissing me to get relieved but the kiss was necessary before anything. It was amazing how I would forget to kiss you at times before leaving the house but you would never forget to kiss my mouth. Do you ever wonder how it would feel to kiss me again? Do you ever wonder how my mouth will taste now — Heartache Berry or Emotional Cherry?

You were very self-conscious about your bad breath, even with me. You had to mouthwash before going to bed every night. Although, you couldn’t ever escape it completely because when you’d wake up and kiss my mouth unconsciously after wishing me a good morning in the bed, it was always too late for you to realize that you have kissed me without brushing your teeth or using mouthwash. I want to confess something today: I loved to kiss you better in the morning than in the night.

Every morning, I wake up with a part of you: sometimes your kiss and sometimes your scent; sometimes the hollow spaces in my heart that your absence fills and sometimes with your picture in my hand. Now that I have written this; I know why I woke up with a pain in my chest today. I might have missed on some part of you this morning and my heart couldn’t allow that injustice with you and your memories.

The flavor of love,
Is it vanilla or chocolate?
The cravings in love,
Are they bitter or sweet?
All that I know about love,
It begins and ends with you,
It’s the flavor of your tongue,
The scent of your body,
The sound of your voice,
The touch of your hand,
The sight of your utmost beauty.

Is Your Soul Worth A Look?

My soul feels uncomfortable in its very own body. I wonder if I am a disappointing it or choking its voice. It doesn’t communicate with me anymore in the way it used to before. Is it that I am not having sufficient solitude to entertain it? Am I embracing life that will yield only worldly pleasures or am I preparing for Hereafter?

I like to look good, who doesn’t? Perhaps, if not good, then at least presentable. Does looking good serve the reason of my existence? Should I be worried about my physical appearance or the appearance of my spirit? If I came face to face with it someday, will I be able to recognise it. Mirror is my best friend, I love to watch the young woman I am growing into but do I have the courage to watch the reflection of my soul in the mirror? I am always posing for a good picture if somebody flashes their camera in my face. This is the age of ‘Selfie’ – one can hold their cellular phone to their face and capture an incredible shot. I will like to see a ‘Selfie’ of my soul. I am told beauty lies within then why this world is chasing the material beauty that is unsustainable; something that is destined to be destroyed.

We are the nation of fools. We blindly follow. ‘Fuck’ is a casual word for adolescents; if they use it then they think they sound very modern. Another very common word, ‘Bitch’; everything can be described in today’s world with the help of these two words by people around me. Of course, there are exceptions to these cases; hence none of the subject should be taken personally. When will we open eyes and realise it is already too late to undo the damage we have caused to this beautiful planet? When will we stop bullying that quiet girl in the corner of the classroom? When will we stop this disease of Racism from corroding our unity? When will we stop hating if our hearts are capable to love abundantly? I ask this 5-year-old boy to draw a heart. He doesn’t draw the complicated biological heart with veins and blood streams but he takes out his red crayon to draw a gigantic ‘lovely’ heart on an A-4 sheet and then colour it all red. He is innocent and doesn’t know how our hearts have blackened over the years. Without any proof, you call Muslims terrorists. Without any knowledge of their Holy Book, you accuse their religion of preaching hate and war. If terrorists in this world give a bad name to Jihad, did you ever take the initiative to ‘Google’ the word ‘Jihad’? No! You didn’t because you are happy with what Media is feeding you with. You are contented to be a blind-follower. Then why don’t you invite Zombies over and let them take your brains? At least, somebody will get fed.

---

Photo Credits: https://google.com/images

Share this:

For a second, I thought I lost you. Your fingers let go of my hand and your pulse plays hide and seek with me. Your eyes are shut and your face is calm as if angels have already arrived. Suddenly, I hear you mumbling..

‘Mitsy, please don’t leave me‘.

I don’t know what to do, I feel powerless, as if I am shackled in chains of self destruction. How can I let you go when you have asked me not to?

‘Darling, I am right here’, I whispered.

You hold my hand as tightly as you can but I feel nothing. Your eyes are teary but you wouldn’t say a word. Of course, you and your feminine strength! But I know, beneath this Iron Lady of mine, there is my little chunky bear who is crying and hurting and I cannot do anything about it.

‘You ate anything?’, you struggled to speak.

‘Shush, don’t you speak! You worry too much’, I smiled.

I vowed to you on our wedding day that I will be there by your side forever and will catch every one of your teardrop before it lands on your cheek. Now for the first time I have failed to fulfil my vow. As I see a teardrop moistening your cheek, I scoop it gently with my finger before it dissolves in your skin. I feel like a criminal in my own body. You are not supposed to break like this. One after the other, each day is draining you out and as much as I want to take you away from all this, I cannot. It’s difficult to believe that humans like us can become this vulnerable and incapable that we have to give up to nobody but ourselves – our very own body.

I feel sick to my stomach watching these doctors fiddle with your body like a mechanic would with an automobile. I am watching you while these doctors are trying to understand your body. Your body is complex and functions differently than mine. It is attacked by those microscopic things called germs. As a child, I always thought of these germs as a creation of the imagination of Science. Perhaps, now I stand corrected. Doctors tell me that the germs attacking you are not ordinary germs we might be affected by if we don’t take care of our hygiene. Instead they are pretty dangerous; deadly enough to change the will of your body. Now, as your body and germs fight as one, so must our spirits in this battle for life.

While these doctors are trying to do their job, you are peaceful like angels have taken you away from me. For a second I think I have lost you all over again but it’s the story of my life. Your disease is draining the life out of your system and watching you come and go is draining mine.

Beyond Betrayal

I surrender to the voice of your heart;
Hold me tight till death do us part!

I am tired of pretending that everything is fine;
There are deep scars behind this smile of mine.
I am over-thinking and playing with insanity in my head;
I am wide awake but my body is sleeping instead.
“I want to talk it out”, you screamed;
I stayed quiet and guide you through my thoughts as it seemed.
You penetrate through the cells of my mind;
My body’s alert with its defense guarded in case you’re left behind.
As my system senses an intruder within;
It shuts down immediately before it could sin.
I hear your voice echoing in my brain;
As my body experiences shock and strain.
My immune system is ashamed and has no other choice;
My body is already losing its voice.
What about my heart; will it stop beating?
Will you be satisfied now that finally God and I will be meeting?
Now that I know my body betrayed me;
Destined to be dead, destined to be free.

BETRAYAL (Part II)

Seeing is not believing,
Believing is not feeling.

As I heard him declaring his departure

He shot an arrow as miraculously as an archer

Listening to his bizarre words, I was on my knees

Possessed no strength to hear, smell, touch or see

I watched him parting in the dark rainy night

Wishing a final goodbye with a vivid smile radiating light

I strolled home single-handedly weeping and crying

His words stuttered in my mind – my tears complying

My mum awaiting me at the home’s door

Disguising the ache, the veil of bliss that I wore

She asked me where was I?

I sighed and told her a lie

How can I tell her it was a lad?

Who deceived and took everything I had?

My numb body directing my senses to the way to my room

Thoughts ruled my mind and soul – this appalling doom

I cursed myself for being in love as a dope

There was no rainbow after this rain, no bliss and no hope

He left me for the sake he was done

Likewise, he is going to find another one

He is a traitor, a betrayer and a player

Thus ruled my heart for an eternity as a mayor

Depression and distress was now the food to my soul

I salute him for his significant triumph to attain his desired goal

One day when no one was in the house

I clasped a knife due to that louse

To Be Continued…

Betrayal – Part I

Beyond The Horizon

Rise with the SUN everyday with new HOPE! Hope is a motivational FORCE!

Every second I dream to dream,
Days of joy preserved, but it seems.
The heavenly body scattered as golden streams,
Illuminating the world with its endless beams.

No wonders, if it shone lastly,
Playing hide and seek, as it does deliberately.
Dressed in a yellow garb, clad in orange blazers virtuously,
Stroking the soil, departing hastily.

Feeble hands tracing its path,
Thou gallant chivalrous grin that lasts.
Rising from the heavens with the tender warmth,
Pacing its way beyond the thoughts, indeed so fast.

Enwrapped in the gracious vesture of gold,
Benevolent and malicious at once in a mold.
Turning breathless in eventide, gradually losing the hold,
Unfolding the secrets of dark and cold. 

The glorious illumination executed by thee,
Offending the obscurity, pursuing the glee.
Commemorating the incarnation, dangers flee,
Rejoicing the existence of another day to be.

Eccentric Voyage Of Life

The feather thus soft, though caresses me hard,
My life is short but the expedition of million yards.

My body’s burly, how about its strength?
Come; get in my shoes to sense the weariness in length.

Rather I supplicate pardon at your doors, my Lord,
My attire’s worn out, my body gashed, stabbing my sins with your sword.

My blood is yellow as that of piddle,
Flowing to signify my sins, concealed as a riddle.

Why am I not apprehending my fault?
Why am I succumbing in this fatal vault?

Halter of a stallion, clasped in my hands,
As fast as I ride, endeavoring to conquer the productive lands.

My dreams are shallow, my heart bears a dark hole,
My soul persuades me to accomplish the past of my role.

My conjectures fail, defeat embraces me in a glance,
However I desire to see the colossal tower for my lost radiance.

Abiding the affliction, my bleeding feet propels the ground back,
The road is smooth but the audacity I lack.

Peace cuddles my soul, love sows new seeds,
Almighty is here to secure me, blessing me with the wisdom of His creed.

My lips are parched, my gaze standstill,
Is this The Glory Of Life I seek everywhere- desserts, forests and hills?

The body slackens its burden, I’m in trance,
Presence of my Almighty, craving every single opportunity for His glance.

My soul enlightens accounting the Heavens,
His commands are my constitution, His contentment my goal.

 

 

 

Tear Drops

Cry until happiness embraces the swollen eyes

The reflection unseen,
Craving a cup of caffeine. 

Red swollen face and the rolling tears,
To tug the outburst within revealing fears. 

The dark starry night thus so long,
Rumbling words tuning into a rhymed song.

The alcohol defy to tempt insanity,
The roller coaster of life betrays humanity.

My body’s numb and strength fatal,
Love rescues my conscience unstable.

Panic strangles the mystery,
Tear drops narrate their history.

The hasty breaths release the firm grip,
The grievous setback attempts to make a flip.

The calmness pleads the hustle bustle to take control,
Happiness forgives sorrow for its vicious role.

Endurance of tear drops uphold a smile,
The enchanting air heals the wounds in a while.