Let's not delude ourselves into thinking that the world has ever been kind to the broken. To the beaten. To the lost. To those who've hurt. Pained. Felt the inescapable strength of loss. To those who were different from them. Let's not. Let's not do this dance. For it's a cruel and unforgiving world for those who're not like everyone else. You know who I'm talking about -- the one you've talked about when she wasn't looking. The one who was a little too much. The one who used smoke to fill up her empty, broken heart, and choked up. Those who drink for that's all they know to do. Those who've touched -- felt -- the disappearing embrace of kindness only to realize that it was all a facade. Let's not do this dance.
That's why I find this ever-present beauty in the broken. The beaten. The lost. Those who've hurt. Pained. Felt the inescapable strength of loss. Those who're different from the rest of the world. For despite it all, despite all the reasons to want to give up. To want to hate -- hopelessly -- furiously -- they still love. They give. They heal. They still stand -- and breath -- and hope.
They hope for they know what it is to live without its warm embrace.
When I was a child, I spent every weekend at my grandparent’s home, and on Sunday evening I would tearfully get into my father’s jungle green Volvo and quietly cry for most of the ride home.
It wasn’t just the idea of the weekend ending that crushed me but the fear that there would never be another like it.
I’d always have a magical time being spoilt silly by my grandfather, indulged by my grandmother and entertained endlessly by my uncles and aunts who filled the precious 48 hours with games and trivia quizzes and puzzles to solve.
Even after my grandfather passed away, even after my uncles and aunts flew the coop, even after I started lugging my homework along with me to finish off before the school week began, even after all that the weekends at Taman Desa were constantly suffused with love and laughter.
And yet, every Sunday night as we sped home along the Federal Highway, I forgot the happiness that I had just experienced and gave in to the dread.
When I think back to those rides now in the back seat of Appa’s car, I wonder what could have caused such a shattering sadness in a 7, 8, 9 year old.
I remember the tightness in my chest from suppressing the sobs, and the feeling of hot tears caught in my eyelashes.
The cool window would be a momentary balm for my forehead but soon even the glass would take on the temperature of my defeat.
It wasn’t the prospect of a school week ahead, actually no. I typed the words convincing myself that school wasn’t the problem but in all honesty it was.
I was sad because I didn’t want to be around other children whom I had so little in common with.
I didn’t want my name to be mispronounced by teachers, I didn’t want to sit in the back and squint even with my Coke-bottle glasses, I didn’t want the numbers and letters to swim unsynchronised on a blackboard, I didn’t want to feel like an outsider whom would never be part of the pack.
I wanted to be normal. I’d spend the next 30 years trying to figure out what that meant.
And today, on a Sunday evening, I wish I was sitting next to the 7 year old me in the back seat of my father’s car, to hold her hand and reassure her. We will be ok, Sumitra. We are ok, right now ❤️
The stubborn bird
The story which hails from the hell to the heaven was of my type,
Cuz i am a bird who loves to fly,
There were obstacles in the form of vultures,
Who torn my wings to let me die without making my dreams to come into exsistance in this life,
Lying down helpless I thought,
Will i ever be able to fly ?
For this is my cause and i seriously want to cry,
But my heart was too strong and determination was held high,
Cuz i wasn't the bird,
Who was just meant to die,
There were times i cried out of pain,
For now my wings weren't that great,
But my motive kept me moving and wings started helping me to fly,
One fine day,
I again tried to fly,
Cuz i knew, my wings were as strong as my determination which was held so high,
Cuz i always knew that i am a bird who is destined to fly,
And this was the story of a stubborn bird who would be remembered by the generations to come. || Follow
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The sunshine bloom from the window behind,
and your skin shined like,
it was a star with the brightest light.
Looking at those eyes which has galaxies in them,
I was awestruck with that glow of your face,
and it was beside mine then.
Every look at your face caught my sight,
and my smile was always by your side.
That glow your skin caught my attention,
and your smile made it sure that it never lost my sight.
Your laughter, your voice,
the eye contacts that we shared more than twice.
Those eyes clearly said that,
they were happy, to be beside mine.
And mine clearly said that,
they could never ask for anything else than, this time.