I am sorry that I am dark

I am sorry that I am dark…

I am sorry that I am capable of drawing the worst emotions out of you and place them in front of you, making you go livid over your own mirror image.
I am sorry for those spiteful comebacks against your most indecent, unfair speculations you whip me up with because I don’t shut up after being constantly hurt.
I am sorry for laying out the most venomous path from blocking you coming back into my life when your tongue developed a nasty taste of maligning a respectable person.
I am sorry for turning cold after you subjected me to sadistic weather denouncing me every now & then so you could easily hide your guilt from yourself.
Do I really have to be sorry?

I saw, at a very tender age, how humans are.
My father’s body placed in a funeral pyre;
people crying, people screaming;
people pretending to cry, people pretending to scream in pain.
Who would have thought what a 6-year-old could notice?
This turned out to be another gathering for you
the moment things were over,
the jolly lines of a personal sitcom started.
My mother had the toughest time dealing with it
but all you wanted was for her to stay immersed in her sorrows and never get up.
She knew the blabbermouths around her won’t feed her children
so she mustered up every ounce of her trampled courage
to go to work the very next day
and disregarded all the eyes prying into her bold actions.
The sulking heads kept scowling as to how quickly
she forgot to mourn and stepped outside the home.
For a little girl, it was admirable but I noticed everyone’s reactions
oblivious that they are being decoded.

I thought people would applaud her for being brave and strong,
instead, it made me realize the joy people dwell in
in pulling others down who want to climb out and do something better for themselves.
The darkest parts of human behavior I never intended to face at that age.
The way they talked behind her back,
the way they were jealous
Men because of her valor,
women because of her fearlessness.

I kept asking myself why would anyone be offended?
She is only trying to feed her family rather than asking for help,
or begging or victimizing herself
when she has been struck hard by her doomed fate in her prime.

I am sorry I grew darker with each rendezvous with humans,
when people secretly took pleasure in seeing others in pain and constant suffering.
I developed trust issues when in front of people
they smiled at me & said
“consider me like your father”
but turned a blind eye like I never existed the moment crowd disappeared.

I realized even my darkest parts
were shards of honest lights that still
knew about keeping the words.
My bones didn’t know the hypocrisy to
turn away from own blood.

My mother, that one person
who kept pouring in through the
tiny crevices of my open wounds;
the meaning of honesty, loyalty,
kindness & love and gradually
nursing it back to feel something;
while boldly ignoring that her whole existence
had been put under fire by that Lord
and how are we going to survive
in this vile world, was still the biggest question.
But she didn’t flinch while answering it, for certain.
Never once she responded back harshly to the haters; as to her one’s life & personality is what they make of it.

I am sorry for some of my darkest remnants that still
managed to hide somewhere that embrace
me when at any moment I am made to stand
in front of vicious thoughts again without ever
trying to intentionally hurt someone.
That darkness is much more comforting
than your sneaky glitters.

I chose kindness because I want to do good by that one person who could always find magic in living.
I chose kindness after accepting reality,
not out of weakness.

But to some people,
Sorry
but I am not sorry for being dark.

An Ordinary Day

It was an ordinary day with
people busy in their lives.
A man running to grab a taxi,
a formally dressed lady hopping into her car in haste,
that pretty Aunt we have known our whole life
carefully rotating ‘Open’ sign in her flower shop
with her blossoming smile reading ‘Everyone Deserves Flowers’,
Our society’s famous grandpa out on his walk.
Looking at people the same way I am doing.
perplexed,
where everyone is going in a hurry.

Something my father before and now I witnessed;
an old lady, without fail, for 30 years
coming out to feed the birds, stray dogs, and stray cats all separately.
Those stray animals infamously known to bite strangers
easily calm down beside her.
A language of love? May be

The balloon seller coming and standing at
the same spot he had been for years
in scorching heat,
in heavy rains,
in harshest winters.
But it’s an ordinary day, isn’t it?

A middle-aged guy passing smile to everyone going by.
I thought he didn’t have any job
since he met with an accident years ago
rendering him helpless (my perception)
and restricting him to wheel-chair.
I recently came to know he’s a good painter
and he likes to smile at everyone who passes by.
It’s an ordinary thing, right?

His subtle way of saying don’t take life for granted
You have no idea how blessed you’re with your body intact.

He is waving and smiling at me now.
No, I don’t wish to smile.
I feel tired.
My soul feels tired.
but unknowingly my mouth curves up.

Well, it doesn’t hurt to smile.
It doesn’t feel like a burden as I thought it would be.

It sucks when I am not using some 40 odd muscles to laugh
because after doing so
I don’t feel that bad.
I believe it is an ordinary thing.
Anything would rot if not used for a while.

I walk up to him asking what is he painting today.
He says just ordinary things.
“a lady feeding the animals,
an old man walking alone,
a poor man selling happiness to little kids and
a girl sitting and staring at everyone like it’s the end of the world.
It’s not. It’s just an ordinary day
with people doing extraordinary things every day.”

Flirting-Coffee Part-2

I saw her. There she was. Stuffed under the pile of shopping bags. So unlike her. I smiled.
I kept staring at her for long. Something came over me and I popped up in front of her pretending it to be happy chance.
She appeared delighted. Wow, it was a rarity to see her this happy in the past. And I, for certain, wasn’t a reason for it. But it was so good to see her that I catch myself with as widening a smile as hers. We exchanged greetings while she kept gazing at me and before she could say anything I asked her to join me for a cup of coffee. Hastily read Today’s Special on the board in front of the Coffee House. I realized after blurting it out. FLIRTING-COFFEE? WHAT THE HELL DOES THAT MEAN? (I tried to read through the corner of my eye) while she laughed brightly.

Ah! So beautiful she looks. Being not nervous, being herself, with that innocent smile. Back then something always resisted her while she was with me. I felt a little pang. Seeing her merrily joyous I captured that moment in my heart. I carried that embarrassing look a little longer to make her feel more comfortable.

We entered, ordered the specials, sat down and started chirping. I knew her eyes were constantly studying me closely; trying to point out differences in her mind yet dwelling in our conversation with that same devoted interest. What was about her that made me feel so warm around her? I regretted not keeping in touch with her. I missed her every day. All these years I had this urge to run back to her but because I had hurt her so bad that my regret won every single time over the pain of missing her. And here she is; still talking to me, still smiling at me.

I wanted to know each detail of her life ever since we parted. I wanted to listen to every second she spent without me so that for 1% I could make up for this lost time and picture myself with her in my head, living that moment alongside her. She is still that same bright, big-eyed, cute little girl but more confident than before and a lot chatty for sure. My inner-self smiled widely.
She catches me off guard asking the meaning of Flirting-Coffee. I tell her and we laugh crazily.

THIS! This is what I miss. We could always share whatever came into our minds not being bothered about how we come off as a person. We had an understanding like best-friends but we both knew we were more than that. Much more! A little tension always building in each other’s vicinity. Something you just can’t ignore.

I still remember whenever I used to tease her saying I was the only one who understood her and she used to go all philosopher on me “There’s no one who understands you completely. A person can only try and put efforts to do so but in the end, it’s the efforts that all matters” And then I’d roll my eyes for lecturing me and she’d ,in turn, show her grumpy look and then I’d make fun of her twitchy nose whenever she did that and then she’d try to lightly punch me and I would hold her hand mid-air and that moment appears again, there’s that profound tension. We would look at each other for some time and then quickly turn away. I am sure Cupid used to bang his head against the wall whenever both the lovers turned out to be this shy.
Wow! Good old days.

I see her spacing out. I bet she is thinking about it too. Oh! No No, Sweetheart. Don’t go there!
Or maybe she should bring it up. We have to re-walk on that thin ice to set things right. Some of it was a misunderstanding, but most of it was my mistake. I should have been more courageous. Like she always had been. I should have been the backbone like she was for me. If only I could have muster up the courage to resolve it then & there, we wouldn’t have lost these 3 years. For a person like me, it takes a good amount of wrecked loss to realize how important it is to fix things right away than waiting for a particular right moment. There is no right moment or else you’d lose your right person and sometimes it’s too late to fix anything.
I feel horrible. I hint at her about the things she still keeps in her mind. I wanted her to open up. I have to face this one day or I’d have to face a life where I let her go, without trying.

She’s in the middle of saying something that her phone rings. Poor timing, too bad!
I was about to take another sip when she loudly said those things. The Wedding! She is getting married.
NO!!!!
My heart dropped to the ground. I am looking at her. She’s all cutesy and giggling over the phone and promising to hurry back. She’s leaving. She’s going. No! She is gone, from my life. Is it over? I thought today’s meeting was like destiny consoling me for the suffering I had endured because of my guilt and now it’s time for the reward. And here I am, being sentenced to another punishment.

She picks up her things and leaves. Like Literally!
She left me there. I feel stranded and she walks off. I see her leaving and she doesn’t even turn around. Is she the same girl who never got tired of looking at my face, someone who waved goodbye more than 10 times before disappearing?

Oh! She turns, waves her hand and quickly bolts out of the place. I can’t feel my legs. I feel my support marched out, paced out of my life. I come back inside and sit at the same place. Still in shock, still trying to turn the clock back. Just for once. Please, Lord, You can’t be this harsh. I blew my only chance.
It starts to drizzle. I look around the world as a hazy scene. As if I can’t see or hear anything but then I see her again. She looks lost. Did she come back for me? Shall I go for her? But she’s getting married and I don’t want to confuse her now. She must have found an amazing partner for sure. Shall I ruin that for her? Chuck it! This is the only chance I have.
I can get all my answers once I confront her. She’s slowly turning around when I hold her hand and ask “Are you getting married? When?”
She kept staring at me, tears shining like diamonds in her big eyes, “Does that matter?”

And I know. This is my moment.
“No, it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters to me more than you do. All these years I wasted confronting these feelings. I don’t care if you’re getting married the next day I am going to confess my feelings for you. I don’t believe my life matters if you aren’t in it and I want you to stay with me.”
I would have said something more when out of the blue I see her hand extending to my collar pulling me towards her and kissing me hard. Whoa! I had never seen her like this. She always manages to blow my mind away with something or the other.
She pushes me back to confess “I am glad I had this special coffee with you today” and winks.

Happy International Women’s Day


Happy International Women’s Day to all the lovely ladies and to all the Men loving, supporting and respecting her.

I feel I can proudly say today, I’m a woman I would have loved to look upto when I was younger. But I couldn’t have done it all alone. I had an army of strong women building this platform for me from generations to generations,
plenty of profound men in my family trusting & respecting my decisions, my will, my dreams that made me
who I am today.
There is no other way I could’ve turned out than being strong, confident, independent and inspirational. I have learnt from so many people that I wish to give back as much as I can.
I keep transforming myself, I keep taking risks (no matter small/big), I keep improving myself so that one day I could inspire someone.

I’m opinionated,
I’m strong-minded,
I’m soft-hearted,
I chase my goals well,
I’m driven by passion,
I can balance out things well,
I don’t play victim,
I take responsibility of my actions
And above all I believe in kindness and upliftment of others as much as of  myself.

And I’m sure many women around you would share same qualities. Many men around would share the same qualities.
Let’s not shame someone for being soft-hearted.
Let’s not blame someone for being goal-oriented.
When someone hurts another intentionally, it doesn’t define a gender. It shows what sort of human those are.
The ones who are too broken that they like inflicting pain on others. Wish them healing and move on.

All I want is a little less divided world than it already is. Where all genders understand each other, help each grow, do not try to cause any physical or mental pain.

This post might upset a lot of people but I still believe & will say it again
‘Everyone is fully equipped with all the ability of paving their way and if sometimes the roles are reversed or divided among partners to lessen the load, or chosen as the interest; there shouldn’t be any raised eyebrows. Rather a support for standing by their viewpoint & attitude.’

#happyinternationalwomensday
#happywomensday
#happywomensday2021

My heart in isolation

A broken heart is usually mended in isolation.
Like Bukowski said.
“You get so alone at times that it just makes sense”
At 3:45 am, I’m
waiting for the morning to come
waiting for the night to end
waiting for my heart to mend.
It all makes sense;
the things I’m drawn to
the people I wanna answer back to
the searches on internet I wanna go through.

I read about writers.
I read what they went through.
I read they all weren’t accepted the way they were supposed to.
Why does it feel familiar?
From where did
Plath, Woolf, Bronte, Bukowski
find words to let them swallow whole
or to swallow us whole?
Where did they hide themselves?
that they outshone everyone.

These are the places I go to
in isolation.
These are the people I re-visit
in isolation.
My heart aches from the hurt
and eagerly wants to find shelter from that pain.
Words make sense sometimes,
and sometimes they don’t.
My fingers itch to write more
but can never catch up with my mind
Or the heart
Not sure where are these words and thoughts coming from?

In isolation, I see my real self
Unprepared, unveiled, angry
because my own heart betrayed the rules and is aching more than it was supposed to.
It exposes a layer of vulnerability
to be cut through and dig out
the trash to be thrown away.

My heart wants to sing melodies of well-being
My heart wants to dance on the tunes of contentment and bliss.
My heart wants to drink and trip over to the seventh heaven.
My heart isn’t sure if it needs any ‘him’ or ‘her’ but
It, so ,freakishly, wants to be mended.
At times, my heart gets so tired of the hurt.
That even the excruciating pain isn’t able to make it suffer anymore.

~~ My heart in isolation

©kanikachugh