Isn’t it funny? Sometimes things fail only because you had put too much of efforts.
Author: Kanika
Hello November
A timeless tale it is.
November went out to buy some flowers for his little brothers. The waterfalls had started to freeze. The untimely rain had begun to pour. Sky went dim and alleys dark.
But November knew where to march to. He was bewitched by the sound of his brothers’s joy. He walked and walked wearing his utopian smile with an innocent bucket.
Leaves, he all could see. Fallen, crushed, wilted, dying. Leaves asked November to take them with him. He shrugged. ‘My brothers only deserve beautiful flowers’, he said. He made leaves fly along the breeze as ‘Wind Monath’ (wind month) he was called.
He marched forward. Pass the graveyards, pass the deep wells. All the bad signs he thought. ‘Never should I look at the omens while in search of the flowers’, he thought. The Deep Well heard and cursed him.
‘Fool you are to ignore your end. But mind it, you’d never find an end yourself.’ November grunted again and disregarded the words. He moved ahead but then halted. The Death was in front dancing. He saw a typhoon of dried leaves crushing all the flowers and a rage of red, orangish disaster with their emotions speaking volumes. Leaves demanded of November
‘You could have accepted us for we are beautiful too. Not a flower, not a pollen but we are broken too’. A destructive outburst swirled around and caught November in its bosom.
November stayed there in the cyclone of their anger forever, never meeting his end.
It’s November. Always an inch away from the end while the last leaves settle on the ground.
Because the last leaves fall down in November.
©kanikachugh
Welcome to my Layer 3
I’m telling you, knowing yourself is the most typical and a complicated shit.
One day I wish add a particular dress into my wardrobe and the other day, just seeing my wardrobe stacked, makes me wanna puke.
The malls, the stores are filled with so much of stuff. Things that we don’t even need.
There is so much junk that it leaves me gasping for air. Then I think what is it this for? For whom?
A few days pass and an urge shoots up ‘oh I want this’. Instantly regretting about what I said.
It’s not easy being honest with yourself. There are so many levels. Humans are no less than onions. Layer after layer. Masks after masks.
And I am scared going to a level to comprehend my verified needs and wants. What if I want to withdraw from this world I’ve barely been connected to.
I dream of romanticizing with this life and own things, fame that makes me feel happy. And the other time I consider myself a hypocrite for wanting it. There is so much happening in the world. There are people who have nothing and I have so so so much. Beyond my need. I’m grateful but this imbalance upsets me. More, when I wish for sometime new.
The world is tilted because of an imbalanced proportion and I struggle to keep everything inside that I’ve ever used.
And I keep looking for the ways to give it back. Not because of someone else or it could be a good deed but because I want it. {Sigh} Here comes the wants again.
©kanikachugh
- Micro Poetry
- ...
The extremes one goes to…
Get me a thinnest stick,
So, I’d keep breaking my crutches
to show you I can be helpless.
I have set up a wrong example
by holding myself pretty well.
That you got to use your favourite
phrase again, slapping me right where it hurts,
“You are strong! You will handle!”
Time to ponder
Normalise other people’s choices and opinions. The world is already suffering because of non-acceptability.
Birthday and Diwali
When it’s your birthday and Diwali in a foreign land and you try to make the most of it
Take me away
I cackled at 6:40 am on a Friday morning recalling your months’ old joke. When we laughed at everything on all the grounds we set our foot in. You took me to the younger days and non-disastrous moments in your faithful two-wheeler, twirling like in a Ferris wheel.
It was so hard to piece it all together, so difficult to admit. The breeze was chilly and my heart had taken a winter coat. It could see no one. Then your ‘Hi’ entered. The days I didn’t confess to myself were like disappointments sitting in a coffee cup trying to interpret your language with every sip I took. Till the cup was empty, and my heart wasn’t.
It’s unpopular how eyes can measure up some logical distance between two people. I remember the time when the corner of my eye campaigned and captured how much of remoteness I have to consider to avoid you. But as always, the calculations failed. I couldn’t shun you off anymore.
You are so close now that I don’t see you in my dreams anymore. You are here, right now. While I paint the house, while I walk in snowy hills, in tangled wires of my room, in ceruleans skies, in nightmares, in storms, in gardens, in last months of the year. I am not afraid anymore. I am fascinated. A kiss in my veins.
For everyone else, you are an exotic strawberry. For me, you taste like mangoes. The king of our land. And you weigh heavy on me. In a good, different way. Like your eyes on me or your tongue on my navel. My appetite is a royal highness now. Always in need to be served. I have come out of my greenhouse. My heart is untamable now and it wants to run wild. With you.
So darling, take me away. Again!
My heart’s getting cold.
Take me away where the breeze doesn’t kill me.
©kanikachugh
October it is….
Would I still be biased
If October wasn’t my month?
I don’t know but I tend
to open up at fall.
October is like a
long Friday evening,
a free therapist,
manifestation of a
dreamy fictional character.
It’s uncruel, satin;
the winter’s sun.
©kanikachugh
Suffering
I refuse to believe that everyone
is not suffering. Suffering is (almost)
the only thing that makes you wanna
live more, strive for a better life,
to find an escape. A wonderland
only to return to realities at night.
I don’t believe people are as carefree
and untroubled as much they show
in their personal or social lives.
They’re merely passing the baton of suffering
from today to their tomorrow’s self.