Poetry: Indulekha Nair

Indulekha Nair

Ma

For what may come, let me hold on to this for a while longer.

Let me be where I am, let you stay till the end of the day.

But truth to be told, I'm scared the most, will I die to be apart, to be not near the womb that still feels warm, even when does it's no longer home. But it most certainly still feel like one.

They say that I'm strong enough to overcome, but what if I don't want to overcome? What if I don't want to forget the sweet scent of my mother's sweat.

They say I'll have to live no matter what, but I'm afraid that I won't wake up, not without her hands over my forehead, gently caressing my hair, gentle enough to not cause me distress.

I'm at a point in my life where I'm sure about the fact that I'm only still here for she had made sure that I don't break my neck everytime I fall.

I don't want to think about a day where I fall and she is not here anymore, about a day not awaiting the comfort of her cozy lap.

The grey in her hair spreading slowly but consistently is giving me nightmares that leave me haunted for more than just a day and

The times I yell at her for nothing but of irritation towards her desperate acts of love and affection, to make me see that she's still here, I sob a little more into my pillows at night for all the times I had to punish a pure being for it's kindness for me.

Every day passing in my calendar reminding me more often now that all this can be taken away, just like that, just so easily and there is nothing more terrifying than to be inside that box of thoughts for more than I wish to be.

To be so unfortunate as of existing in a world lacking the taste of unadulterated affection of my god, my creator, my mother.

For let me ask for nothing but a day less to live in a world when it will come to be cursed to function without the love of her's.

***

My Fight

A part of me just want to scream

at the face of the silver pain that is quitely eating me away, pleasurably.

To haul at the evil break,

to break the walls of these merciless glass chamber of suffering into a hundred million pieces.

Inside of me does it still echo the shadows

of arms that I once threw at every grip of those evil hands laid, fading but still alive.

Fighting for the fire to stay burning

amidst of the cold storms that were once named by the ropes curled upon my body and into my flesh with everyday passed.

When in places that it hurts still after long,

my breasts remembers how it felt, those fangs.

To cut a piece of flesh from between my legs

and serve dinner for those hungry lots, clean off my blood and sweats for they might diminish the sweet.

Losing my mind, perhaps my whole, trying so hard to stay a-longer while.

Taking my all, my life, to laugh down at the foes, to see the fear in their breaths, for when they left the bed, they thought I was dead.

***

 (Un)real

How pretty does forever sounds to be.

To be loved, to be alive.

Much innocence in the trust we keep in mere utterances,

Blind to the ways they differ in life.

Raw hope fueling the thoughts of a 'happily ever after' less promised.

Knowing, yet pretending not to,

In the desperation to keep on existing in a world so unreal.

Blurring the lines between facts and what it lacks, inorder to fulfill the neverending cravings of a fantasy so far from our hand's reach.

Glaring head-right at the face of reality, hiding so gracefully the fear in our eyes.

Scared to the toes, for we know all of it can be so easily taken away.

Even the prettiest of forevers and happiest of ever afters comes with an alarm clock attached to it, ready to go off right at the second before our promised ecstatic bliss.

***

  

A hymn to the day we parted our ways

I still remember,

Vaguely, even so.

It was pouring,

The cruelty of nature's metaphors.

You asked me to stay,

To give another go,

At whatever it was that we had.

But what exactly was it that we had?

You asked me to stay,

With a little more desperation, the second time.

To not let go so easily,

To fight for it, for us.

You weren't noticing,

Not paying enough attention, perhaps.

I was fighting then,

Fighting myself to believe in what we never had.

But there's something about that day

That still make my heart go warm.

For I had held on to it so long,

Even when I knew I had lost.

Blinded with what it could have been,

I never knew how much I needed this,

How much I needed myself.

Let me assure you,

This is no 'love turned wrong and hate came along',

This is the story of two, who did not belong.

A hymn for the day we parted our ways.

*** 

Until

This is no heaven, I can see.

A place that holds no answer, no comfort nor cure.

At least not to the eyes of yours or mine, not today.

The sound of thunder and ice cold hands

And a thousand ice cold bodies behind those plastic covers.

This. This Earth, what is that it wishes? For the breathings to cease or is this it's idea of a practical joke?

Are we not to be or just to be more careful?

Is this the end or just another chapter to arrive?

Inside these cages, when our minds wander into the forbidden forests of our imagination,

Let it not eat us, for we are still here.

This is no heaven, for sure, but perhaps no hell either.

May this be that time, when we kiss a little kiss on our own reflection in the mirror,

That time when our heads swing a little swing with the sound of our favorite song,

That time when you hold that painting brush in your hands after all the years passed,

That time you start with the story that has been waiting behind the curtains of your mind, ready to touch ink,

That time you did every tiny thing that you had in your mind for a day when you are not in haste,

Everything that you wanted to do,

Everything.

***

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Indulekha Nair is a Final year English language undergraduate from Calicut, Kerala. She has been, from a very young age, an introverted soul who loves to exist inside fictional worlds more than anything else. Apart from writing poetry and short-stories, she also dedicates her time into social service through 'National Service scheme' and creating awareness in the minds of young people through writing content for youth related organizations. Her fascination for Literature and poetry is what makes her who she really is.

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Setu, August 2020