Ranting of a 'grown up' mind

When do you know you have grown up?

When the urge to hurt back is so high,

That your temples are throbbing.

You cannot breath and you can feel the blood rising in your veins.

All you want is, to give them the taste of their own medicine.

You know you have not done anything wrong,

At least not enough to get it on your face.

You can prove yourself right and shred the argument

Even shred the other person into pieces.

You have never been talked back to,

And here you are, being screamed at.

Being humiliated, and how!

And you take it all, not ‘give it back’

Walk away, because that is the only graceful thing to do.

Get that dirt off your shoulder,

After all, no one is worth it!

Yes, you have grown up.

More so, when ‘he’ walks in the room

Takes your face in his palms

And asks for forgiveness.

Forgiveness for not being able to protect you.

For not standing up and punching them in their face.

For being more ‘practical’ than ‘natural’

And you simply ‘forgive’

Because it takes heart to admit.

Because you didn’t expect anything from him.

And mostly because, he is the only one who matters.

Between all the tantrums, pampering and mollycoddling

You grow up, to know

That this isn’t about you.

To walk out without indulging

To shake it off without letting it soak in.

You know to treasure the ‘promise’

Of keeping the monsters away

And not trying to put it at test.

Because, their glistening eyes say

That they mean it.

Here! I put the pen to paper,

And take it out of my system.

After all, I am much more than your words.

Comments

Textures of an old soul

In 2008, I was in Sacramento, California. As excited as possible for a boring 22 year old nerd to be, I went exploring the city on my own. I asked my cab driver if the old Sacramento town was worth the time and money spent considering it was far from the uni. The cab driver, as all cab drivers do, started talking and to cut the long story short, on knowing I come from India exclaimed, “You come from Jodhpur you say? Why are YOU visiting old town? It is not even that old by your standard! Don’t you come from a city 1000 years old?” It filled my heart with joy and pride that he knew about my city and knew it so well. And I remember this story every time I visit my hometown. I always wanted to visit all those monuments back and relive my childhood memories. There never was enough time! Or let me say I never ran out of excuses. Since I have always stayed in boarding school and hostels, this place had always been the place you go back to with tired, worn down spirit. It has some heal

The Woman that she is

With a broken heart and a broken soul, Burns down to ashes, and emerges as whole. Sparkles in the sun, gets washed in the rain, She cries like a river, but isn’t defeated by the pain. She might be called stubborn, selfish, a whore She laughs it off, and it’s all washed ashore. She swims with the tides and against it too She is strong like a rock, delicate like the dew. She falls down, but stands up every damn time She knows very well, failure is not a crime. She limps, she walks, and here she started to run. She might lose the race, but the game she won.

Mid Night Muse

You are chocolate flavored cupcake in the bakery shop, In the world of formal shoes, you are my flipflop! You are the scent of fabric conditioner, on freshly washed sheet! In those indie songs I listen to, you are my favorite beat! You are the warmth of the sun at eleven on a sunny day, You are my favorite verse of all the things I say! You are the oversized, cozy sweatshirt of mine, You are the reddest of the red wine. You are the fragrance of baby soap on my skin at night, In these confusing left lanes, you are always right. You are the joy of finding an old note in a book. You are the 'plain' maggi that you cook. You are a cuppa on a rainy afternoon, You are the coolness of nightly sand dune.

Something about life

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