A bridge

I had seen you
Around for so long
That I thought
You would stay around
Forever.

Forever,
Is such a loosely
Overused word.
But perhaps
at some point
We trick ourselves into
Believing that
No matter what,
few things are here to stay.

Stay because they
are too weak to
leave.

Leave and go where?

Where else would you
rather be than stay with
Me.

Me- I never fussed
Enough

Enough about why
You don’t take your medicines
Or go see a doctor
Or go for that walk-
Or see that therapist
You have been putting off
For years.

For years, I listened to
you so indifferently-
Scrolling meaninglessly
Through my phone,
Seeing things I will never remember.

Remember?
Hah!
They call it
attention deficit
hyperactivity disorder.

Disorders that
cannot be seen
Are so insidious
Just yesterday, I was trying to
Guess if I am
Depressed
Or bipolar
Or PMSing.

PMSing? You asked
‘I think I am PMSing too.’
And neither of us laughed
Because we know it might be true.

Truth is that even
you thought,
we would be around
Forever

‘Forever’, though
Is such an overused,
Abused word.

You see, the chasm separating
psyches
is the toughest
to bridge.

A bridge

painted in
a shade called facade which
carefully disguised
our
Idiosyncrasies.

Idiosyncrasies so stark
They couldn’t sit
Next to each other,
Let alone lay.

The rain washed
over that facade and

That bridge
is burned, so
Absolutely
Completely
Permanently
That now
the silence sits
in my mouth
rotten from
unspoken words
of love and tenderness. 

And I know for a fact,
That this void,
this emptiness,
this chasm-
Is here to stay
forever.

Forever, you see
After all
Is not such a loosely
Overused word.

A new year?

I woke up this morning
And looked outside the window
To the same view
Constant for months now
10 months to be exact –
A quiet yellow house
jaded by rain and sun
With a rusted red door
And a black car
I think,  a Wagonar
That disappears at 9
and reappears at 7,
Sharp.
Dutifully parked across the
asphalt abraded road.
But I know the house has
residents
As they sun dry their clothes
In their verandah
On an aluminum stand
Near a banana tree
That refuses to grow any taller.

But they say
A year has gone by.
A year, is it?

True it must be
As it was this cold,
A long time back
When we wore 2 pairs of socks
And sweaters and pants.

Also, some people have
Made their presence scarce.
But alas, sooner the better.

Yes, a year must have gone by
For I don’t remember much from
That life.
The one before the virus.

Yes, the virus
That succeeded in breaking
My body but
Not my spirit
As I came back
Even stronger than before;
Ready to take on
Whatever comes next
And so did many others
For there is no other way to go on
Than to go on fearlessly.

Outside, the winter air
Hangs heavy with silence
Of those who mourned the past
10 months
From the loss of lives and livelihood.
Their heads
Scarred yet unbowed.

But apart from that
Everything is pretty much
Constant
yet they say,
A year has gone by.
I don’t believe them.

Why Me?

I don’t go to a temple often

Neither do I go to a

A mosque or

A church

or anywhere else

Get the drift, right?

But yesterday I went

To a temple

Not too far

But the one in my home;

It was awkward

I have to say

The face off

With Him

Like meeting an

Old lover.

So I cut straight to the chase

And asked –

Why me?

I stood still and

Waited for an answer

Minutes passed

But nothing happened

No one spoke

None of the statues moved

But a tear did trickle down

My cheek

And I collapsed

On my knees.

Ok. I am on my knees.

Now, tell me.

Answer me.

Why me?

First, I howled

Then I pleaded

In a mumble

That barely escaped my throat

I submitted in a barely audible Why me?

I waited for a sign.

The hibiscus or the marigold

To fall on my feet

Or a cosmic intervention. Anything.

For I am stranded

in a vast

pitch-dark-room.

But, nothing happens.

So, I wanted to unhinge the temple,

slam it on the floor.

Watch Their smiling faces shatter

Into tiny little pieces

Perhaps then they will talk.

But they were quiet

As a stone could be.

And I collapsed further

My warm cheek pressed

against the cold floor

I need an answer.

See. You got me.

You got me on my all fours

for never bowing

before You the

Omnipotent

Omnipresent.

Now

Tell me-

Why me?

I did everything by the book.

I followed protocol.

I need an answer.

A reason to go on.

I laid there for a while

Made myself

Comfortable.

Maybe His holy Highness

Is busy

I laid there for

I don’t know how long

Like a wounded animal

Only wanting to be relieved of

her misery.

Wondering why people

Are so scared of death after all.

As I studied the scratches on my floor

I realised

Perhaps

The silence is the answer.

The quietude

The still flowers

The motionless figurines

Because you see

I had never raised

this question earlier

Never had I wondered Why me?

When self absorbed

I had strutted around

Like an

Entitled

Little

Snob.