Merciless

I have exploded my mind
On the tender interwoven fibers of my paper.
That absorb my emotions- as if though
My soul is an endless well of water.
I have saved a life, maybe it is mine-
By moving a burden from my heart-
The burden of living life.
Words intertwine
like bare branches on a windy day
And horses gallop through the landscape
like thunder- and the trees feel lightening.

I have shared my happiness
With the paper as my friend.
Every moment that defines me
has been recorded in this memoir.
Illegibly, maybe- but understandably.
My ups and down, what if I fail?
That is every human’s
greatest fear. But you have to learn
to get over it. I will fall
otherwise I can’t get up. My head in the
highest clouds. I have entered
an infinity. Feels uplifting.

I have reached a crossroad. Where my vehicle
stops with a start. Revving up the engine
is fruitless. I am stuck. Stuck in the middle of
blaring horns, of some mediocre phase of life
that I came upon by chance.
I am stuck. Stuck, in the arms of another
who never understood me. I am stuck.
Stuck in the anger brought on by unfairness.
Sometimes it feels like I’m
deceiving myself. Telling myself lies
to believe I am the best.
But does it matter? That those lies I tell
they turn into truths
because they make me happy, after all.
Anytime soon,
The truth does not seem pacifying.

I have seen what it’s like.
To be left alone, excluded.
Be the ‘new kid’ at school.
So I confide in words. I write
to feel what it is like, to live
without fear. A tiny tear
drops down, a small damp spot
on my floral-patterned dress.
the one my grandmother sewed
staring out the window at pouring rain.
And so I put pen to paper
The pen is my weapon
to diminish my enemies, rescue my allies
and restore the gift of living life.
Around me I hear crying, but I am smiling.

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Let Go

I’m thirteen now, fourteen this April. Two years later, I will hold my driver’s license. Four years later, I will be termed ‘an adult’, and more or less, thrown into the outside world by myself to survive. My point is, I’m not sure I’ll be ready for that. Nobody is ready for that. But I will eventually cope, because millions of other amateur adults do.

 

It is not easy for a parent to suddenly stop being a parent. A baby will always be a baby to parent, even if a five-feet and six inches tall baby in jeans with highlights in her hair. To put it briefly, it is not easy for anyone to let go of anything, least of all for a parent to let go of a child. Children grow up. It is a universally unarguable fact. But it is just not their body growing. It is their mind and their opinions growing too, alongside their body.

 

There is no lack of teens wanting to be ‘left alone’, or ‘be independent.’ I would say that is true for me, too. Often, I am positively burning with anger over some decision of my parents’, and thinking that that decision was mine to make, not theirs. My journal is full of scribbled negativity, often directed to family, just because they do so many things I don’t like. I can’t always wait till I’m eighteen. I have a mind of my own, even if the mind of a child.

 

We always say that to understand another person well, it is best to put yourself in their shoes. Try to look at things from their perspective. It is easily said, but not as easily done. Empathetic intelligence is not always sufficiently competent between adults and children. Adults may listen to their minds, and children to their hearts.

 

Due to the way today’s world is socially interacting, parents and guardians- in fact, nearly all adults- fear even more to let their ward roam free in the wide world. Well, it is quite true. I am doing what I suggested earlier. I am putting myself in adults’ shoes- in my own parents’ shoes- to feel their sense of hesitance and protective caution. Again, as I say, it is true. Their fear is quite relevant, the world is actually gradually turning into a free-flowing river of corruption, selfishness, cruelty, and indifference. I honestly admit- if I was a parent, I certainly would have had second thoughts about setting my child free into a world of which we are just a fraction.

 

“That’s why, when your child starts the journey of separating from you, you may react in all sorts of strange ways. You as a parent may feel suddenly out of control. Of yourself as well as of your child.” says Suzanne Moore, in her article about growing teenagers. I read this one article, and it made me realize all over again that through the voice of other teenagers, I was reading about myself.

 

“For me, the secret to having a happy teen is giving them space and freedom – without that, there is no fun and happiness. But you also need to find common ground,” said Katie Adamson, a thirteen-year old interviewed for the article. It is quite true, space is necessary to grow, freedom is necessary to learn.

“When I’m going to a party, Mum wants me to call her when I get there, after an hour, when I leave. She says she wants me to have my independence, then takes it away by asking for the phone number of the place I’m going. They want you to get a job, but won’t let you stay at a friend’s house. Teenagers are hypocritical about this, too: our need for independence changes by the minute.” says Olly Reeves, sixteen. Again, I totally think that all teenagers share bits of the same brain. I am basically thinking what these teenagers are all saying. All teenagers are thinking what some are saying.

 

If adults could come to their senses, they would realize that they were once our age too. They went through the same concerns, the same doubts, the same angry fits. This parent vs. child battle is the best scenario to exemplify why experience is the best teacher.

 

Teens are not always intentionally disobedient. We are growing, we are seeing, and we are learning. We have enough to worry about without worrying about pleasing our parents too. I say this with full confidence- many parents will deny being overprotective. But it is basically woven in their instincts. So to all parents, I just have two words- “Let go.” It might be difficult, but we all have to learn to do things that are initially difficult for us. It is an exam given to us by life- some adults pass, and some fail. This exam tests open-mindedness and acceptance.

 

Baby steps- certainly. Start by allowing your teen to make more decisions by himself or herself. Bigger decisions. Let them have their independence. Sit down with them sometimes to catch up with their lives. But let them be free. Let them earn your trust, and try to earn theirs.

 

Parents have to give growing children some distance to ensure eternal bonds. Because honestly, believe me, I say this as a teenager myself- once you start growing apart from your child, there is no turning back. The pressure on teens is too much for them to remain closed up and always have the same friends. Needs change, friends change, perspectives change. In short, everyone and everything changes.

 

I won’t plead with parents. I trust the judgement of my parents and also all adults. I am confident that they know what’s best for me.

 

Today, I speak as the voice of all teens. We are growing. We need space, freedom, and trust to grow. If we have all of that, plus lots of love, we might grow to be the best generation the world has ever seen.

 

A Reality

I resign myself to perpetual showers,
Disappointments with the rain
But with the new year approaching
I find earnest hope again.

Hope for an adventure,
Hope for a smile
Hope for success and achievement
Inspiration all the while.

Go riding on my dreams,
Sailing on wide seas
Joyfully come back after
Celebrating my victories.

At the end of the new year
I do hope to see
That once I had a dream
Now I have a reality.

New Year

High above, 2017 flew, looking down. Christmas decorations still fluttered in the breeze in some places, while in others, Christmas seemed long-forgotten, people again accustomed to their monotonous routines.

A new year had begun.

 

Just a Child

I can’t remember
how I came to be a child
midst of darkness and frolic
and the mazes of childhood
roaming paths unknown to many
yet knowing the world will care.

Hand outstretched, I plead
say- to be or not to be
feel free to ask of me a favor
but none too big to accomplish
beyond my reach, my tender brain
my immature soul and loving embrace.

Flowers have been my companions
to create a wonderful simulation
yes, a world of my own, a lie
is what I crave to live in
and grow up in, far from
rules and taunts, just to be what I am.

Never very special, yet loved, I know
but did not before. I cried tears
till dry eyes gave way to angry words
and neither did I repent
should I? I ask, and why?
No care for tears, why for family?

Glowering at unfair praise, to rivals
fits I threw many, no one understood
as to why, little child, were you a nuisance
not the sweet angel that children can never be?
they ask, and I have no reply
I just cry, and they stare, as if children don’t cry.

And they can say as much as they can
but will I listen? maybe not
but all I know is they have no right to make
me listen, if they did not listen to me
and understand my pain, before
asking for my help with their troubles.

I will love, every creation must
but, will I be wrong as always ?
I think not, they have no right
to control my emotion as well
just because I am a child, an I not
live free, and be bound by duty?

I will lie, yes, and not care for ones
who pushed me out of where I belonged
my age, was not my decision
then why be punished for it?
punishment, sure as I am a bird
will never last long.

But words will bond, be drilled
into hearts of fame; beloved
children will hate the world for
making their decisions
uttering their words, and
changing the world from the original.

Iconoclast of Childhood

My birth has touched revered soil,

Where people bury their heritage,

From the land which radiated strength,

From the time it gained independence in war.

At midnight, our soldiers rose.

 

I rise from the talented hands that held me,

Passed on from ancient ancestry,

Blow away, wind! Over my child, they said,

In heavy rain, humid heat, and frost.

 

I am from the land that honors its fallen,

And its handicraft made from blistered hands,

From everlasting love, and patriots many,

From the northeast of the rich peninsula,

By the music of the song that carries overseas.

 

Merry mutiny, disagreeing sisters,

And Frances, a childhood possession,

That now grew up to be a charming maiden,

At least in minds that cherish dolls.

 

The words that held a significance,

Eat up! Don’t make a fuss!

Be the best in what you love,

And I’m from the hands that sold,

Worli art and Madhubani paintings.

 

Basil and raw turmeric, always followed a cough,

Kitchen smelling of spices, in eagerly awaited dinner,

Colored lamps gave a golden hue,

Felt like a haven, friends a couple paces away.

 

From words did I grow up,

Sanskrit, French, Hindi, and Bengali,

Kathak dance performed amidst culture,

Of my family and country alike.

And then it all fell away.

Within My Life

I’ll never, forever, ever be,

What you were beloved to me,

I’ll never plead to the heavens to recreate you,

I know you were a beautiful lie,

But you could never bear to be true.

You’ll never be true ever,

But just lie to me forever,

So I just wished one wish,

For you to be gone,

I can’t believe it was granted,

And for once, had I won.

 

But you never loved me,

Whatever the hugs may have meant,

Whatever the kisses may have whispered,

You never came back, once you went.

Away, away, and far beyond,

Behind the secretive mountains, and the silvery pond,

You plunged into the depths, were never heard of again,

Yet I spoke of you with love, while people nurtured disdain.

 

CHORUS

 

You may have been yourself,

But you were never the one to love,

Never the one to see, not the one to be,

No qualities from the soul above.

No fresh tears on those blue eyes of yours,

No aims, no goals, none of the words of prayers,

It was all a great whirlpool, went right through,

It was all a fantasy to make me love you.

 

For your letters are still with me,

Bound with those red ribbons, torn with age,

And I try to go deeper and understand,

But memories still flood my heart and mind,

And I’m too afraid of what I might find.

 

Night after night, you helped me faint,

To sleep, and delve into a trance,

We twirled, we laughed, we shared as well,

Holding each other still in that frolicking dance.

We didn’t think of the coming future or our past,

But we simply weren’t destined to last,

Because as we were clueless, happily so,

The loved not, but hatred was still incognito.

 

Gleaming in those fake diamonds, we,

However we fought, we were unable to see,

I didn’t know you motives, your intentions,

You never knew how much you meant to me.

For, though we were like sisters, we couldn’t be-

Bonds unconnected, or sacrificing family,

I thought the love was real, or at least the care?

It was all a scenario, simply to ensnare.

 

CHORUS

 

You may have been yourself,

But you were never the one to love,

Never the one to see, not the one to be,

No qualities from the soul above.

No fresh tears on those blue eyes of yours,

No aims, no goals, none of the words of prayers,

It was all a great whirlpool, went right through,

It was all a fantasy to make me love you.

 

For your letters are still with me,

Bound with those red ribbons, torn with age,

And I try to go deeper and understand,

But memories still flood my heart and mind,

And I’m too afraid of what I might find.

 

You died still in my arms, having forsaken,

You said you’d return, I never asked you when,

So you just were gone one fine day,

I couldn’t bring you back, once you had gone away.

So I just looked at you pictures, learnt you by heart,

It was a cruel end to a compassionate start,

But however was I to repent?

When would you understand it didn’t depend?

On you alone?

 

Or was I just another girl to be,

Another thing to cripple, and then set free,

Just one more second would you have been alive,

I really would myself, have taken your life.

 

CHORUS

 

You may have been yourself,

But you were never the one to love,

Never the one to see, not the one to be,

No qualities from the soul above.

No fresh tears on those blue eyes of yours,

No aims, no goals, none of the words of prayers,

It was all a great whirlpool, went right through,

It was all a fantasy to make me love you.

 

For your letters are still with me,

Bound with those red ribbons, torn with age,

And I try to go deeper and understand,

But memories still flood my heart and mind,

And I’m too afraid of what I might find.

 

Hi…. You could practically call this one of my first attempts at professional songwriting. Comments and feedback are really appreciated, as this is to be entered for a competition.