words threatening to spill

My "bus stand wale" dadaji died today. He lived a long life, had a vibrant personality and was an inspiration to me. After my real dadaji had died, he had taken me under his wing, and was the closest to any real grandfather figure I had. He used to call me in the morning and asked me medical questions. He always believed in me, and even when I couldn't answer his questions, he considered me to be a smart girl.

My dad was crying on the phone, I guess I didn't see how he must have been a father figure for my dad too. I always questioned why my dad had decided to move to Bathinda, a place up north. He always said it was to be closer (physically) to the relatives. I guess the urge comes up when you begin to realise how age is catching up to time. I hope that my dad felt closer to his own father through him.

We will always honour him by telling his stories, the way he remembered them. I want to forever engrave the day all of us went to Hisar to meet him. Especially him. My brother and dadi had accompanied as well. Now im not above believing that few things can be a sign. im too agnostic to use the word GOD but I believe that sometimes there's this gut feeling, this urgency to talk to them, to get in contact with them. Maybe that's what pushed my dadi to join us. She's otherwise not the one to accompany us. This time too, somehow she did. So, if not god, it is perhaps a collective feeling that rose in all of us.

I'm still unsure on how to move past this. By past this, I don't mean moving on, but getting right past this moment. I'm giving my parents the time and space but I need to talk to someone. I wish I had a more recent memory to cling on to. But I don't. I did not call him. I felt that urgency and I let it move past me.

There's not a lot of people who love without expectations, who make me believe that maybe love is not transactional. But I feel lucky to feel that love in my family, and he's someone who loved me that way too. Very often elders do not deem conversations with a youngling very important and worth their time. Even my own dadi isn't that way. But he would call me, we would talk even when I felt like I did not have much of a conversation to offer. He considered me as someone important, someone worthwhile, and I will always carry that with me.

As you grow older, you start to let go of the grudges you once held with someone. Maybe again, it's the sense of urgency that takes over the hurt. While that might be a wiser option, I respect those who still keep those grudges. I do not know the family lore too well, but I have reasons to believe that he was that way too. I always found it endearing, almost like a childlike quality, and I do not mean to infantilise him in any way but rather am inspired and also prideful that I was on his good side.

So sweet, I notice you and let my mind wander 

Electric, when I make eye contact, I can’t hold on much longer.

Gentle, I open the gifts, your notes, even the gift wraps I treasure

Curious, I learn things about you, warmer gets the weather.

Slow, I, too warm up and respond to your affection 

Sly, you notice quick and are kind enough to not mention.

Funny, you keep things light but somehow lead with a plan of action 

Giddy, as I follow along and bask in this attraction.

Stirred, with this feeling, I write with some kind of reverence 

Hopeful, that this is something good, this time I won’t be pensive. 

Scared, of what lies ahead, most things I haven’t gotten a clue

Assured, because you will be kind and understand that this is new.

but in this world of intertwining lines of fate which govern us like strings of a puppet,

ours will hover and run in and make contact rather slowly.

a tie, a knot, maybe a coiling around each other,

it will make its own space in the world,

no need for any excessive glory.

for all it needs is a space to breathe, a steady grip, and some time to reap.

a unit so ingrained, there will be no you or me

It can’t be articulated, why I didn’t shower today.

Why after having days of tried and failed but tried discipline,

I woke up with a need to self isolate.

Why I secretly felt relieved and joyful over the news of my roommate going home,

when I usually feel uneasy without her.

It’s the surveillance over my life that leads me to do my best at all times.

This constant watching that I impose upon myself, sometimes literal, mostly imaginary is what helps me be good.

Right now no one is watching but tomorrow morning, I’ll be observed from the moment I turn off the alarm and heroically wake up nonetheless because I love my life and my life loves me.

So maybe I just want some final hours of my unexplained but excused behaviour to go on as I write this, however many hours I lose of my sleep all the while knowing the lack of which will hamper my performance tomorrow and I might not be as charming and personable as usual (trust me i get the crowd rolling).

The thing about writing these days is, i am sick of no one reading what i write (which should be the very best motivator to be my honest self).

I want someone to read this, someone who’s a human and not chat gpt whom i turn to for advice about my writing only to get conscious over it.

I want to be praised for my writing, or my observations, or my contemplations. I want to be told that I’m good and worth something besides academic validation in the form of numbers.

I’ll always write, create art, indulge in hobbies, be responsible, and moreover exist, for someone else to pat me on the back.

I saw the fondness

When she entered the room,

I saw his eyes turn

The bond they had was quiet but still

So with how much conviction can I feign my belief?

He noticed my doubt in the silence,

So he talked of her less and less

And i subconsciously took the cue to never mention

Even if it danced around our heads

Then came the jabs, the things that slipped out

They made it harder to ignore

But the delusions had already taken the front seat

And the hopes came ashore

We all know how this ends

And so I tell my part with a certain emphasis

That I wasn't told, not that I didn't ask

Because somewhere along the lines, I began to prefer a make believe bliss

When I talk about it now

I leave out the thought that occurs now and then

It's that I can't say that I didn't know when they didn't hide

Apples were tasteless, not even that sweet.

Having apples everyday at school, just as many would be left uneaten

And they'd rot in my bag unnoticed till I'd shove another one in.

Perhaps the only purpose they served was to be a reminder of my pathetic nature.

That continued until I verbalised my issue and was provided with a brilliant solution: another fruit.

As for apples, they were soon out of the picture.

But whether I like it or not, they can never be out of the mind.

There's no fruit i know better than an apple and maybe to know is to care.

Now whenever I get the chance to bite into one, I'm met with the satisfaction of meeting an old friend.

Places I'm surrounded by, change with the changing tides

Would I prefer a steady stream or a wave that sweeps

I still don't know to what I'm inclined.

I get no sense of belonging in most places I go

And getting comfortable somewhere usually takes a toll

Not to confuse it with a fear though

Because having my brain with me is a good enough solace.

Surely it takes time to get accustomed,

I look around and observe patterns

Visualise the colours, picture with alterations.

I still think about the previous places I stayed

Of how much 'me' they felt

Probably just my thoughts replayed

In the busiest of days, i find moments of peace

And let my mind wander in search of some relief.

I keep a close record of my favourite things, get as cozy as the time permits,

and as i dream away, this particular pattern seems to repeat.

Unsurprisingly, you’re there and unknowingly, I’m also there

And its a gamble of chances that when we meet, we both have perfect time to spare.

Or maybe its the opposite

Where the time we always relied on, perhaps disrespected even, was lost.

And as the luck strikes again, we cross our paths.

This version of me is different from the one you’ve always known.

Well, more accomplished and on the move to create something out of nothing.

You are seemingly taken aback by this shift in me.

I’m confident, mature but there’s also an expression you can’t quite catch on.

Its like i can meet your eyes but only for so long before i turn them down again.

But you?

You are just as cool as i remember and you’re doing cool shit with other cool people.

That was something that always lacked when we were kids.

You were noticeably different from the other kids and i saw it in you,

That you used to think that there was something wrong within.

Oh how wrong were you for thinking that way.

I saw you then and i see you now and i feel a sense of pride and urgency but also pain for the time we lost.

So in the best of my dreams, we live in the same city,

Maybe see each other once a week

And when i am feeling greedy enough,

I dream that we’re seeing each other everyday.

Don’t be around people who don’t want you around. Its pathetic.

Enjoy your own company. That’s where you shine the most.

You know the people that don’t want you, and it’s fine. Rather it is good to have a portion of people not wanting you. A good filter.

The moment you stop initiating and start letting go, it becomes rather clear that they had wanted nothing from you.

Sure it doesn’t save me from my embarrassment, how laughable the whole situation is, and how i am reminded yet again that i mean way less in people’s lives than i make it out in my head, at least now i know.

I won’t confront or make it a big deal, won’t put a bad name on anyone (besides me maybe), would just say that we drifted apart.

Now why am i this affected? It wasn’t a long lasting friendship of 5+ years or something, and there was nothing big really at the stakes.

Got too close too quick and ruined things at that same pace.

Maybe it’s the opposite where it would have hurt less had it been a longterm friendship. It makes sense.

i was alone again today after class all evening while everyone else had plans with their respective friend groups.

i am dipping my feet in each group of friends and trying to find the one where the biggest portion of my personality aligns.

i manage to have a good time with each set of friends while having another set that id rather talk to.

none of the groups has essentially included me as one of the ‘main ones’ and neither am i ever thought of when planning a hangout.

yes one can be perfectly content being part of multiple friend groups but it hurts when at the end of the day you see yourself walking home alone.

this is something that i dealt with at school too and now i feel the same.

i honestly have nothing to conclude here, just expressing my frustration for still being the way i had been back then.

i’ve always struggled to be someone’s number one and it seems that things don’t switch up for you after college, its you who needs to keep trying.

i wanna be the person

you can’t get off your head

like a stubborn leech

forever and ever.

even as the song of your life modulates

its still the same song

it doesnt go away.

i’m not asking for much

not especially asking for your time

we can go according to yours

coexisting with you brings me

a thrill i can’t explain

and it would be my greatest joy.

to have you acknowledge me,

recognise me, and greet me

is it asking for too much?

a polite hello wouldn’t hurt

when it comes to my realisation

that i’m loved more than i deserve

when I haven’t done a thing to earn it

never ever i fail to cry

when it comes to my realisation

that i love something so dearly

all too aware of how it clashes with my obligations

i hear a little crack inside

dictating my life, my inner voice

now wary of potential fuck ups

i see the metal bars around my inner child

i wish to make harmony between the two

but i have only ever loved madly

and balance has never been my style

so in this constant battle, i fall behind

you see,

the usual “one last chance” has been given to me one too many times

so when it came to my realisation

that you have your arms open for me

i never felt so fragile

you love is overwhelming in a way

that’s non judgemental, non transactional

just so i can feel worthy of such love

i will try to heal and replicate your welcoming smile just as bright

i am at a point in my life

where I don’t trust myself

because i could only fail so many times

and not let that be a hindrance

in each tiny bit of hope

and confidence i have gathered,

not beat myself up for the littlest of setbacks

and build walls even higher around my already shredded self esteem.

but its funny how the thought of setting the bar lower for myself

or giving in to what the outside world has to say never occurred.

i often feel undeserving, unlucky, and generally just lazy sure

but never dumb, weak, or broken.

so call me delusional as you please,

give me looks, feel all the pity in the world if it provides you comfort,

i won’t be wavered by it.

now i have enough self awareness to acknowledge that half of this is shit talking

that it would affect me so much so my entire day would be ruined.

your condescending remarks disguised as concern

or even better as a source of wonder

do hurt me

and if that’s what the intention was all along,

a sweet girl i befriended once

told me all that there is to know about this world,

i let her speak and she let me

and that was when the time truly stopped.

i craved to know her better,

the lesser it felt the more time we spent

and i decided with her i felt the most content.

it was a perfect little thing we had

the merriest laughs, the smiles earnest,

but that’s all that it was.

i could only gaze at our little cube for so long

if i tried to touch it,

the heaviest rains poured down on me.

perhaps it was far too delicate to touch, feel or taste.

i revolved around it, this elliptical path

too close and i’d rush far away,

too far and i’d feel astray.

but i allowed myself to become a tiny speck in her life,

happily declared our relationship as

the kindred spirits who think alike.

i know she gave me signs several times,

practically offered herself to me as an attempt to entice

and i let all her sweet gestures slide.

the slide so steep that it got out of reach

and now i could only lament over the missed chance

to touch, taste, or feel.

i look out for our little cube that seems no longer in sight,

time goes by and i feel it leaving my mind,

im fighting to keep my eyes open

to indulge in the short form content

i have accustomed myself to.

it only makes sense that i have to spend two hours before i sleep

on my phone just scrolling away,

actively searching for a piece of media to latch onto.

i act surprised on days coming and going so quick,

like i dont see the time slipping away as my eyes are fixed on the screen,

one hour turning to two turning to three.

i try not to think too much about how without internet,

my body gets unsteady

like its a necessity to keep a distraction ready

in case i get in touch with reality and silence feels too heavy.

and as you probably guessed,

rushing to me without invitation.

they broach my fight or flight instincts

and bring them to the front.

the way it shows on my face,

eyes wide and speech shunned.

i wish you didn’t know me well enough

to read in between the lines

because even when you see right through me,

i make futile attempts at telling lies.

you pretend to notice or give any second thought,

leaving me with a more heightened image of yours.

though you never laugh, your amusement seeps through that smile,