Power of forgiveness

Why set such high standards for yourself ?

Only to plummet in  a crevice, grueling to ascend,

incessant scrutiny has metamorphose you into a cynic.

Your desire to be always at the centre stage 

caused you so much anguish.

The pressure of appeasing others and irrelevant comparisons

has made you a stranger in the mirror.

Do you even recognise you?

Why the need to rise in other's esteem?

Your bitterness a yardstick to resent others

The trenches of anger, the jealousy, the pride, 

The trappings of body aches, years of stolen sleep 

the mental simmering, the acid reflexes, the victim mentality

Was it worth it?

Why the urge to draw every stroke perfectly?

Chaos has smudged your life's canvas

If only you had learnt the art to be kind to yourself

everyone around you would have received 

a token of pardon in your journey of life

Silver years have passed away,

herculean to cast away old skin and don new

Why not try?

A balm of self forgiveness is the dire need of the hour

 a balm unavailable  at chemist's and which no doctor can prescribe

Squirt it more often and apply to age old gashes

and every relationship will take a new leap of freshness

There are presidential pardons even for murderers

You are just a mortal 

Then why not initiate the art of forgiving yourself just for once ?

LEASE

We are one, we were born at the same time,

Then why have you separated and cast me aside?

Look in to my eyes just once, I am just like you

All my senses a replica of yours

I feel the same angst as you.

Who gave you the right to decide my destiny

When will my lease end? 

I do not intend to be borrowed, owned or rented

Suffocated, choking, I have forgotten to breathe

What harm have I caused you?

I give you birth, nurture you, 

fulfill all your desires till my last breath.

Do not make me feel ashamed of myself

Every time, I try to take a shape,

You decide my destiny

Even before the umbilical cord is cut

When you can own yourself, why not me?

I wish to breathe the same air as you

and have ownership of my mind and body.

Why should I be cloaked from head to toe

and not step out of the house

just because you have no control over yourself?

It is my body, why cannot I wear what I want 

and choose what I want to do in my life?

Do you feel a threat from me?

Is it why you want to cage me indoors?

Believe me, my mind functions

it knows how to choose, it can decide for itself.

I did not ask to be a woman

But yes, I am proud having born as one

I love this country as much as you do

Give me back my keys of freedom, oh man

The lock has rusted, yet I will keep trying 

Let me be my own owner for once.

IDENTITY

We often alternate our identity to suit us, lost in other's perceived depiction of us.

Our image often a blur like dust on glass, we all strive to maintain that façade.

Beneath us is a reflection unknown to us, we try hard to glide from one to another 

in roles chiseled by history or society, mind or body at times unwilling to go on.

The mind more corrupt than the body, prods us to act and react again and again

and we heed the master's orders until our image screams blue murder.

My forgotten identity queries me after decades of lull and confusion,

 Who am I? Daughter, sister, wife, daughter-in-law, mother, friend, colleague.

An arduous conundrum to ponder, do these labels define me,

I can only bear myself when I am enacting these roles, 

so is this who I am? 

An actor donning various hats, fulfilling job descriptions in each role

My mind meanwhile prods me pointing to a waiting hat, while 

my anguished identity still gropes for answers.

A ROUTINE

Forty-five minutes past eleven am, a scorching silence outside

the buzz of the air-conditioned unit, interrupting her eager looks

home cooked meal awaits alongside her for her husband.

The car halts; a five minute drive home from his work place,

over wafting smells of his relished Indian cuisine

each chew  shared conversations.

Some meals accompanied with chats; some with comfortable silence,

occasional heated arguments  add to to the kitchen's humidity 

a roller coaster of emotions, yet each conversation so flavourful.

 A time which is just theirs, with no intruders to ping 

his office stories whet her appetite

her daily tales greeted infrequently with absent-minded nods.

Childhood acquaintances, now receding hairline greets her bespectacled face

thirty year old marriage, she knows his stereotype response

yet like an inquisitive child she asks daily 'how's the food'?

Her endearing monotonous ten year old routine

envy for her city friends, their husbands' life stuck in long traffic

weekend lunches and dinners  their only shared meals.

She, an extrovert and he a quiet guy, a perfect pair in matrimony

like the harmony of spices in her cooking

the black kitchen table, a witness of her nibbling from his once in a while.

Few more years to retirement, she wonders how life will be then?

Would the clock chiming eleven forty-five ignite her eyes,

or would meals be eaten to stretch the day over an air of stillness?

 

If only

If only there were no numbers, how would the world be?

Probably a world where life is not a race the moment the umbilical cord is cut

Maybe a better place where there are no firsts; to look down on seconds and thirds and the last.

Possibly a place; where number of houses owned or holidays enjoyed do not identify us,

Hopefully a place where no six or seven digit salaries exist to deepen the divide.

Truly a world where number of likes and tweets do not shape our daily thinking of how good we are

Really a world, where leaders see people as humans with feelings rather than a number for votes.

If only there were no letters of the alphabet, how would the world be?

Probably a world, where people are not screaming hoarse on whose religion is superior

Maybe a place with less arguments and less bloated egos

Possibly a place where the pen and sword neither hurt

Hopefully a greener planet with less trees felled to express hatred and bitterness

Truly a world where everyone has time to feel others pulse and genuinely pay attention to others around.

Really a world where words such as white, black, superior, inferior do not exist.

Do I wish for such a world?

Maybe less when I was a child and ignorant

Maybe more frequent now when I can count all numbers and read all letters of the alphabet easily.

WRITE

Write else you will never know who you are or who you are not

It is you talking to yourself, else you are chalk and cheese to you.

You are like the double-agent presenting a fallacy to the world and you

I regret why I did not cling to the pencil when my eyes were forming impressions.

I write now, the pages my only non-judgmental ever-lasting companion

You take the burden of my shoulders, the load of my chest.

I pen down thoughts which no one understands

I scribble down random plots, weaving stories in my brain.

My intermittent breaks from you have turned me into a forlorn lover

Blessed are those souls who found you and seek solace at your doorstep.

TALK with THOUGHTS

 I wake up and have not even stretched myself fully 

and there you are already raring to go.

All these years, I thought we were like Siamese twins

but its only now, I know we are poles apart. 

I finally woke up from a deep slumber

and your past behaviour appalls me.

When did you sneak in to make a permanent abode

and cement my house with your unneeded beliefs?

Did you not have the decency to ask my permission

or you knew, I would say an emphatic no.

Yes, I would, for I wish to be a better person each day,

but there you are catching me off guard every second

feeding me anger, jealousy, hatred, guilt and fear.

Leave me alone, I want to think for myself

I wish to be free from your clutches.

Would you like to be controlled?

Let's play the game of musical chairs then,

it's my turn now.

I do not want you to think for me

let me do it for myself.

I do not want to rush every nano second

I want to slow down, enjoy every moment

watch if pain, anger, hunger or guilt visit me.

I want to have the freedom to choose if 

they can be my  guest.

So, please go away, my negative marginal utility 

has kicked in.

If you ever try your old methods

watch out, I am all awake.

This talk was indeed gratifying

I pat myself for the courage to push it out.

I feel lighter and all set to go.