Corridor

Regret is much like a matchstick left burning and unattended. Forgiving yourself is the best way to control the inferno that results…

Lose yourself

Going down the spiraling

Staircase

In the deep abyss of being

Labyrinthine, leading to the

Archives of an age old library

Where

You would shirk from

Reading the books

Would want to

Avert your eyes

As you turn the pages

That rebuke

Ever so sharply

Harsh and endless

Questions like snowflakes

In a storm

Interrogating the times that went by

And the acts done

The mistakes made

You’ve moved on

But only by visage

The regret still

Takes your soul to storm

Shaking you up

Leaving you shivering

Screaming gibberish

Trapped in your own

Hurricane

Drowning in the cold marble

Coating your soul

Preventing it

From reaching out to

You

Only you’ve learnt

To keep it hidden from your face

Regret

That keeps your memories

Jaded by errors

Stiffened

So much so

That one more fall

Just one more

In the curved corridors

That know every intricacy

Of every failed interaction

If you trip again

The only door that

Was left open

To keep you breathing

That only door

Will shut

Ocean

…Mental Health is a topic that still bears a lot of stigma attached to it. However, in the Geeta, Lord Krishna addresses Arjuna as Paartha, which means son of Earth. God’s implication is that depression (what Arjuna underwent in the Geeta), anxiety, panic can happen to anyone since we are all children of Earth. There is really no shame in “yawping” our feelings to let ourselves know that we are brave enough to shout out against our internal torment… As Enigma’s “Return to Innocence” says, “if you want, then start to laugh/ if you must, then start to cry/ be yourself/ don’t hide…

Here’s an attempt to comfort all those who’ve experienced or are experiencing this ugly blot attached to mental illnesses…

Maybe we are

Walking icebergs

With all our real motives

And true stories

Beneath the profound waters

Of a dark sea

Maybe that’s why

We humans are so

Cold

To each other

Fail to comprehend

That

Icebergs have scarred

The unsinkability

Of the vessels carrying us

So afraid that

The preciousness

Of our feelings

Will be exploited

If unveiled

Because of the imperfection

Borne by all of us

Rather wait for a heat wave

To drown the voices that try

To whisper the torment

Back to the profound waters

Of a dark sea

Where the entropy of souls

Lies

So ashamed of the noise within

Because it is assumed

That no one undergoes this

It is a fact

No one will understand

So freezing

As we stand in

The eternal dark

Drenched

Because it is spelled out that

Everyone carries an umbrella

When they venture out

No one loses theirs

No one shares

It is a fact

But what if

Since we are icebergs

Anyway

What if we yawp

Our emotions out

Making it clear to

Ourselves

That being vulnerable

Is not shameful

That we are brave enough to uncover

Our depths

To let walruses rest

Let the Sun reflect of our tips

Because

We will go back to the infinite sea

All of us

One day

What matters are

Not the facts drilled

Motionless like stones

What really matters are

That we are all waves

Of the ocean!

What Matters…

Contemplating on it

For a long time

It seems like

The only option left

In the suspended drop of time

The only right thing to do

Because you are worth

Anything but life

That’s what you are convinced

That is what is reinforced

You have to be

The perfect size,

Have to attain the

Ordained number

Of people around you

To call “friends

Even if it means

Throwing yourself away

From who you really are

Doing things that may not always

Be right

Hanging in there

Surrounded by

Venomous flames

Even if it leaves your soul scorched

With so many voids to fill

So many ropes slashed

That it won’t matter, really

If you cut your veins too

No one will mind

But then

It’s your choice

Because there is a gift you’ve been given

When you breathed for the first time

You are still a hope in the eyes

Of those who care

Who have salvaged the

Remains of the injured strings

Binding you to them

It won’t be right to end it, you know

To blow off the candle of hope

You have in yourself

What does it matter, honestly?

If your body is the way it is

Or if you have less than the right number

Of people around

If you have yet to learn a lot?

What matters is to know

You have time

And

You have the perfect home for your soul

18:66 – What I felt it means…

“Sarva Dharmaan Parityajya Maamekam Sharanam Vraja
Aham Tvaa Sarva Paapebhya Mokshayisyaami Maa Shuchah”

This is the 66th Verse of the 18th chapter of The Bhagavad Geeta. In this verse, Lord Krishna is thundering His message for us: Surrender! 

The meaning of this verse is that we must leave all dharma of mind, body, intellect and take refuge in Him. He will relieve us of all our mistakes and ensure we reach a state of liberation. In fact, He is asking us not to grieve.  

When I came across this verse, I misunderstood it to mean God is telling us to leave Dharma in the Ultimate book of Dharma, that is the Mahabharata and found it ironical. However, I realised my mistake when i found the correct meaning of what Dharma is. Dharma means “Dhaarana”, that is what binds each and every one of us. The Secret of Attraction calls it Love, Helen Keller felt invisible lines connecting her to others but in reality, it is this very feeling of  “Loving Kindness” that unites the whole of creation, observable and otherwise. In this verse, God is beckoning us to do a trust fall and assuring us that we will, without doubt, land in His Arms. He is asking us to trust His timings, His way of handling the strings and to leave the worry of the world. He is requesting us to forget the anxiety of what was written on our question paper of life,  or the grief over the fact that our answers to life were original and to simply believe that the Universe will handle it all.

By the word “moksh”, I used to picture blinding light and a golden chariot that comes to give all the good people in the world a red carpet to heaven. However, I have come to realise that why wait for life to end so that we attain this state of pure happiness. God is showing us a sign that we must leave all kinds of toxic ties, which we are convinced we must go on with, and take refuge in Him. He will make sure that you don’t have to ever look back at your naive errors or  harness the angst of going back to the poison that you were in.

It’s almost as if we are injured children and God is kneeling down to our level and wiping our tears, telling us that we don’t have to ride the cycle we fell from, that it is okay if we choose to stay home and watch the others ride until our scars have healed and we feel confident enough to go for it again. We don’t “have” to do something we are not ready for just because we feel we are compelled to.

And once we are in His Refuge, no amount of rain can ever drench the warmth around our soul…

 

Rainy Faith

shutting your ears, terrified

with your nose pressed to the window

you cried

wanting to hear no more

of God’s football game

the one you called thunder,

with his blinking audience

because God was supposed to name

the naughty kids, instead of playing

like them,

if God was enjoying himself,

who would punish, or bless?

who would do the God-duties of

pouring gifts,

(wasn’t he Santa, too)

instead of

cold drops of water?

that is what you thought

at five

you are older,

still nervous when

the night sky turns

pink and flashes loud

as you navigate through

the puddled roads under

grey clouds, the next morning

yet now you know,

that the God you knew will,

play his game,

but ensure you see the sunlight too!

PS- The world is going through testing times, but we should be sure that the good times will come and the Sun will shine too!!!:-)

To read another post on rain, click here

Swim

going for a swim

something you enjoyed

trotting so happily

just like when you were a kid

devoid of shame

knowing no fear

as you removed your clothes

laid yourself bare

for the toads to see

and the water to receive

you trusted them

yet now, those thoughts coming,

worrying the water won’t keep you buoyed

as you tiptoe to the sea

if you remove your clothes,

you’ll see the scars, the lessons, all that you did

yet you stare at the waves, wishing everything to be

the same

everyday you go to the shore, always ready with gear

unaware, yet knowing what a good swim bodes

but today, today once again you lay yourself bare

knowing you were and always are the only

one to watch

as you plunge into the deep waters of

your soul

So Much More

wondering how this will work

this is your self

feeling as if

you have left the

user manual to your soul

behind

a pulsating,

pounding dance

beneath your skin,

prancing

as it

rebukes you for

every mistake

only you see

saying it would

be better if you stay

silent

because

your words are hurtful

the people who tell you

that your words are nice

are abstaining from

telling you the truth

you have learnt

that the heart races only before

a race

yet…

what when you feel

every second

as it jogs on its

internal treadmill,

fearing, doom is upon

you

enjoy yourself,

a good time

is always upended

with a warning,

” this is only temporary,

good times are always gone

in a blink,

tomorrow will be

what you really deserve”

because you know that

it was only when you were

younger,

when you could commission

all the unicorns you want

to transport you

down the memory lane

of happiness

and magic dust

you collected,

where is it all that now?

yet…

every time

the throb drums

on your head

its eternal pessimism,

so much that your eyes

glaze over,

or when you are pulled

to the floor

your hair a mess,

what you need to

remember

is that you are so much

more

than any notion

that tells your racing

heart that you

could be better

you are more

than your worry

that you

are alone

you are so

much more

than you think…

If Words Were…

see them come

and run away,

scared to be

so near,

but you are slow,

at least that’s

what they prove

every time for you

to endorse

with a nod,

they have scissors,

they are barbers,

wanting to make

you beautiful,

but that would

only be true

if words were

blades,

snipping

every concept of

security

you’ve had

every knot of

self-confidence you’ve

made to climb

a mountain of

your dreams,

they cut off

your relations

with every child

your age,

because they are

better,

they deserve

anything but

dumb friends

like you,

when people ask

them,

about your hurt

expression,

they deny knowing

because you are

a spoiled brat,

unaware how

a slap feels,

yet,

you’d know,

if words were hard palms,

making contact with

the fist, positioned

between your lungs

they say,

they are editors

of the beautiful

picture you are

that may be true,

if pictures

were like you

soiled

and forgotten,

then picked up

again,

and cropped

more

and more

until

you are

a dot,

crying for help

from people

passing by and

stepping over you…

Teddy

shadows of

what is your teddy bear

when the lights

come on,

yet now,

it looms

over you,

larger than it seems

its cute smile,

an evil snarl

every cuddle

crushing you,

you feel the

sweat on your forehead,

scream,

and face the brunt

of sleepless adult anger

or suffer,

those are the options

Teddy offers you,

you are five

yet old enough

to decide

its paws comfort you,

a soft cushion for every weal

etched on your tender skin

but only when

the lights are on,

otherwise,

the night makes it clear

to you

that you are

its sorry prisoner

only a few minutes,

yet they seem eternal

as you wave your arms,

crying for help,

but softly,

tears down

your cheeks,

looking for

a means of escape

from the uncharted land of your

imagination,

with a form

of Teddy

you were yet

to discover

your eyes

swimming,

so fast

your vision

a whirlpool,

as you try to navigate

in a world

without Mum

with a limited supply

of air

you are five,

but that is little excuse

for you to escape now

from answering

a question they ask you

throughout the day,

the few individuals,

surrounding you,

dumping their pent-up

hurt on you

for mistakes

that only they can perceive,

their voices echoing

as one,

when Teddy asks,

“why are you such a bad baby?”

The Only One

you know the feeling,

like you are

the only one,

sinking in

your self,

rather than mires,

they tell you

to “go,

get some friends”

as if friends are

beverages,

as if everyone’s waiting

to hear about

your day,

it is difficult,

only you can know,

to share your innermost

emotions,

because

your past has installed

in you a filter

that allows smiles,

however imaginary

to flow,

but literally

holds back

your tears

the silence around you,

so dense,

even if you are standing

in a crowded marketplace,

you are brave in the dark,

you were the only child

in school who sat quietly

through horror movies,

do you know why?

because you were afraid

of being a “crybaby”

roaming incognito

is better,

than wearing your heart

on your sleeve

they say they could die

of a condition,

similar to yours

but their statements are

a figure of the language

they speak in,

the same speech

that complains of the

mountains that you

craft of your

mole-hill sized

feelings,

that they are

yet to experience

you cry,

when you are alone,

admiring their strength,

but

as you learn to

breathe, to live

in the depth of the

silent waves of sentiment

around you,

do you ever realise,

that the very same

people you think highly of,

are screaming,

flailing their arms around

in their internal swamp

of being human,

because they are

afraid of themselves,

just like you were?