#deshnawrites

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My soul in the city.

It has been exactly a year and two months I have been living here. It feels like I moved here yesterday, no wonder new faces don't amaze me anymore.

My tongue has turned sour from how sweet everything here is. People ooze out sugar here and I don’t know if I like that to my heart’s content. It dances corner to corner and never would it be satisfied.

Every corner squares me out and I find there are so many ways to go, four to be specific and I never was and never will be able to make a choice about which way to turn.

The old jhumkas I bought on the street were worth every penny, they took me around the city and I didn’t even notice. My Jean pants always feel lighter and I am afraid I will wear the pockets out as long as I keep going.

The smoke from the rickshaws wears me out and I think I will restrain. I am better off sitting in one filled with a bunch of strangers going for the same destination.

The smiles I have stored in my brain have been born here and I won’t complain to you, God, not anymore for you taught me to wait a little longer to see how the city shapes you and you shape the city.

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Love can be addictive.

Little speckles of white dust are making their spaces in the lungs of many, I remember seeing a heavy white curtain at the corner of the street somewhere, knowing as soon as I try to separate them, my lungs would be filled too.

My legs are starting to stutter and me hands are shaky, the veins popping out, my body wants me to take a step ahead, in fact many steps ahead and my heart takes a leap backward.

I told you a few years back, I have always listened to the angel. My heart chooses the angel once more. The cool kids are on the other side though, will you be able to survive, in your skinny Jeans and floral not cropped top?

My drug of choice is love, I have basked and bathed In love since i was a little uninucleated cell.

My heart blooms and my head feels lighter when I inhale a string of love from the palms of creased hands here and there.

I frown and frown so much that my eyes get wrinkly if I do not get the love I want from you, from him.

I can sway my hips to the beat of your love and never get tired, maybe sometimes your love might make me throw up rainbows and pixie dust but as long as I pop some pills, I will be okay.

I will be love one day.

I am love right now.

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Two types of grief.

You see, us human beings go through several tunnels in our life. Some we see and deliberately go beneath and some we don't know about like those in trains.

My grandpa showed me through his actions, there are two types of grief.

Type one- It eats you up raw from the inside,

The gall bladder starts releasing all the dark colours of bile, mostly black.

Eyes, which once looked like a sunflower turn into something vile, dangerous, dangerously empty. If they popped out of their sockets the next moment, wouldn't make a difference.

The trees which used to sing to you once, now don't even take a look at you, you feel breathless due to the lack of oxygen.

If you keep looking at the lines of your palm, they start shifting away from each other, coming to a point with no visible lines.

The ice now melts the second it touches your searing fingers.

Even if you interlace your fingers with a warmer hand, you start doubting every second of it, start playing 'among us' in your heads.

Type two- You pick up some drops of water and put it in your eyes or maybe glycerin.

What if the world knows, proving yourself grieving is important.

You see a pair of eyes everywhere, you can't rub your hands towards the sky in peace.

You scratch the key on a metal desk to listen to the satisfying screeching sound and then you get to sleep.

You turn the fans and lights off and wear two to three layers of clothes in a may summer.