Author: priyankasinghal.com

as I choose to see it

The wallpapers turn stale
The texture had devoured your fragrance…

The books grow soggy
The pages had felt your breath…

The windows scream
The panes had seen you leaving…

as I live by what you had said
as I forget what I had been
as I choose to see it
as I stay put
as I exist.

Parenthesis

Pent up emotions
A whirlwind of expectations
The vacuum of anticipation
Surrogate designation
Embryonic something
Lost the desire to be born
Looking for peace,
Round and around.
The end of another year
Faces to be replaced
(Stay detached, they say,
They are not to stay)

Lessons learnt,
and yet
No lessons learnt
The hope of future and the future of hope
Entwined with the cavitised memories
The same window
The same smile..

Beggar, who?

The beggar begins his day
Reaches his spot
A dog hurries wags n paces
Is served.

Steady strides stop with the sight
Of concern for the cornered
Admiringly.
Destitution does not derail his dedication
For a stranded stray dog
Food finds fissures.

We observe move forget.
Where to?
What lies ahead in a bumpy circular path?
The mounds spiral into hills
Space collapses
Cyclic suffocation.

Father

I saw him in another man much older than he had seemed when I saw him last
My eyes went back to his face repeatedly
Why did he look familiar?
Would he have aged in the same way?

Texture of his skin was much smoother, sagging had just begun, hair not all white
He left years ago
Too young to go, people said.

I was younger brazen angrier limited
I don’t know what I am now
I am not sure if I miss him
Never loved him really
There are video clips in my head and a few stills too

I have met people who adore their fathers and are loved back.
I don’t know if he loved me
I have no evidence no memory.

A Silent Letter

Dear Eyes

It has been a very long time since I talked with you directly. Life became convoluted with every passing moment and I somehow forgot that my life is connected with yours. In fact, I became so immersed in the conundrums of my own existentialist delusional self that I forgot your blinks are directly proportional to my beats; that even when I chose to sink as and when I felt like and hid in my shell for an indefinite time period, you continued to face the world with all your might, even in the welled up state.

Today I feel I acted weak. While I bled and bled, you never spilled over and bore the internal conjunctivital pain with all the strength. I forgot that you do not lead an independent life of your own. You are but a reflection of my inner self. While I had forgotten to live up to my own spirit, you showed it to the world that I was stronger than my weaknesses; but not as stronger as you are. Thank you for reflecting the truth, yet obfuscating it for me.

Because you are superbly capable of both.

Yours silently

Heart.

Random thought.❤

Goodbye!

Never say goodbye, they say.
But say it!

Probably it will ooze out the nothingness like blood gushing from the wound.

Probably it will cavitise the void further
And vacuumise the hollowness more.

More would it make strong than stronger
And more would it lead to the road ahead.

So goodbye to the sinking heart
And goodbye to the weakling knees.

Goodbye to the past moment
and to the promise and its gap.

The Cage

One fine day I will liberate you from the confines of my heart

Where the rusty weariness leads to heavy breathing
Where the old world values are music to deaf ears
Where the complications of this or that weigh upon your free soul
Where there is neither black nor white, grey always
Where the labyrinth of disappointments hinder the course of imagination

When I liberate you..you will soar like a free soul
And the cage would miss the music of heavy breathing.

Some Reflections

Forgetting, although presumably very vain and mundane, is an essentially aesthetic exercise because it leads to purgation of all the heaviness that acts as a parasite killing the host silently, yet profusely. Is forgetting equivalent to forgiving? No, it cannot be.

There is an unconscious element of self definition involved in forgetting- a blissful feeling of oblivion which is a replica of floating in space for example. So we human beings, limited creatures that we are, attempt to remain closely knotted to the present moment while, at the same time, unconsciously and almost desperately desire to slip into the depths of an inexplicable stupor.

Is forgetting good? Sometimes yes. Yes, if it is essential to sustain the selfish human mechanism that we all are inherently built with.

Is this inherently selfish state of oblivion easy to achieve? Certainly not.

Trying to strike equilibrium between remembrance and forgetfulness, and wanting to only remember the pleasant and forget the unpleasant (while being aware of the idealistically erroneous nature of the mere thought), we all defeat the erratic turns of life.

Daily.