Subtle Kaleidoscope

  I read somewhere the act of peeling oranges for someone is considered love. I had mixed thoughts about it. I wondered if it was an excuse for not taking care of yourself or if it was being loved. I knew it was love, I guess it was love. But then I thought it was something the social media was feeding our system. A narrative being started to cause tension in relationships that were, before, perfectly fine. I couldn’t deny that it was an act of love, but I couldn’t justify why one needs to feel that. I am away from my home state in another state. People speak a different language and the whole premise of my life has just shifted. Away from people I love, away from people who love me. I knew, before I came here, that I needed to love and care for myself more this time because people who could care for me or fill my part weren’t here. Self-Love. Taking care of yourself. These days my city is burning, hotter than ever. Heat waves and everything. So, to fight that I bought my favou...

I think I like daisies, particularly the smaller ones, because they almost pass as weeds unlike other flashy flowers. . . . Not a flat, Not an apartment by road, Not my father's house, Not my man's A house of my own. With vases full of daisies, my pillow and my porch. Few books piled on the other slippers by the bed;  a coffee mug  on the table made of white oak With footprints of my wet feet , as I tiptoe from shower to my room A room with canopy of cream linen. And a garden of daisies I  grew on my own With post-it notes on refrigerator,  inside jokes. On the kitchen island: Some electricity bills, few grocery lists Loads of unfinished artsy canvas, and the many glasses I own Daises in the cozy corner with chairs that fold; Living room dancing on the rug, not too old A place I can rest, light as snow No one to guide, No one to scold No one to know, no one too cold Filled with daisies and Love A place,  effortlessly, my own.

"Come out and haunt me, i know you want me. " . . .  i peeled my own orange today, like i did yesterday too, i do my own laundry and i fold my clothes i write my poems, i tie laces of my shoe i put on two pair of socks because my feet are always cold i make my own coffee, i take some flowers home i count till five and i let breaths out, a few. i push me through, i pull myself from, i would peel pomegranates, if he ever asks me to   i wait, i waited , i am waiting i will so a perfect moment when i can lay down  on my bed, making sure no one catches me though "don't know, don't understand" never see it coming, but knows when it'll go an airplane passing over your head , and you'll know i ask you to let me peel your orange, "let me know" you let me know how sad the pith on my oranges make you   i will peel my own oranges i won't ask you to; i won't tell you to ask me again you owe me enough...

  “…mind over matter is magic, I do magic…”   . . .   Yesterday I told this person, I like listening to these songs showing that one playlist we all have that we are so damm proud of in our hearts but still think twice before showing someone, because we wonder if that would be embarrassing, what if they hate these songs? We’ll be enemies? Poles apart? And what if they like them too, then what? True love? A match?   What if they neither hate it nor love it, then what will you do Sona? Then what? How will you decide if it’s a match made in heaven or if it’s an old vendetta our souls may have had? What will you do babe, if you can’t decide if it’s one extreme or the other? What if it’s neither nothing nor everything? What if it is meant to stay right in the middle with you having to balance it for the rest of your lives? “It’s just a playlist”, Sneha tells Sona. “You will be okay” the only embarrassing thing I feel about my playlist is how each song that I lik...

There's so much to do, Sneha . So much to see, so much to absorb, so much to feel, so much to be. How will you be? When will you be?  I literally never address myself with the name my family calls me, I never talk to Sona. I am afraid if she even exists in my world. I do have Sneha, different types of her, and different kinds of her. But only if I had a Sona. Technically, I am both Sona and Sneha, but I was Sona and I am Sneha. Sona is me till, I guess, 5th standard ; everything after that is Sneha. I have had someone tell me I should talk to Sona and tell her it's okay and acknowledge her, hug her. Honestly, that makes me cry so I don't do it often. It's like hugging someone you know will leave. It's like hugging someone who is not even there. So I let her play around. She dances to weird songs and reads love novels and binge eats snacks and tells you everything she knows about herself . I don't feel like correcting her, she'll grow up otherwise. I am tryin...

bits of replaying a song and wishing some lyrics changed.  (I may not be original but i learnt how to improvise better ; ) . . . Honey, when I am  Lying under the trees , I see what you see I stare blank at beliefs And I am, right now, pushing up trying to make a touch Through branches breaking up my sky. Showed you all of my hiding spots, Hide and seek , in disbelief I was still seeking when you stopped. Hearing locker keys, and small talks freeze A one that opens up my door. When did all our lessons, started to look like weapons pointed at my deepest hurt? A fool you dream, With a big man scream, I hope you get what you see, I haven't loved the new me yet, She'll never give you that. No I didn't mean that; Sorry I can't see facts, through all my man made mess. Honey, when I am above the trees , I see it for what is. But you're, right now, signing off letters  that you wrote, with an insincere "Yours Sincerely " bribery; it all makes sense t...

so long but so often. that is what i say, whenever she asks me anything about how i am doing. that is how i feel. so long and so often. i can try to picture where it all went wrong for the first time but no, there wasn't a first time for it. it always felt wrong.  no matter how hard i try to brush it off, or shrug it off, or choke on it slowly, or die for it fast, anything that i can do will only lead me to live, with this burden. i was better off pleasing myself by pleasing few. now i don't seem to care about pleasing anyone, because there is so much to run for, their list goes on and on and on. I try talking it out, but i can't. i cant make anyone understand how is it like. People are fighting demons that look like the hell hounds, demons that will dig their claws and tear flesh away. demons that are demons. funny thing is that, everyone out there fighting a demon thinks that their demon is unique ; that they are fighting a war that never occurred before and are drunk on ...