The Girl on the Rope

I feel like I am the girl on the rope
On the side of the road
Embracing dangers face to face
Just for some applaud
And some pennies perhaps.

 

They are looking at me
While I am walking on the rope
It is not enough to go just one way
And just towards the end of it
It starts to get boring.

 

And I must do something more
They are looking at me
Some excited to see me walk
Some would love to watch me fall
But I must not fall.

 

So I take out two small balls from the pocket
And juggle them while walking
O ya, that seems to have worked
It just works fine
And just when I turn to walk back where I started..

 

One ball falls from my hand
So I throw down the other
Just so that they know it was a part of the act
Then they throw a huge stick towards me
I catch it and walk holding it..

 

And then there are a few rings thrown on the stick
By now I am tired
And I may fall
There is no safety
No one standing by guard..

 

I can’t smile anymore
My face lets out a frown.
I see I am towards the end of the rope
And look it’s over
I come down.

 

But there are just few people waiting there
Some have left giving some pennies
The applauders stand there staring at me
They are happy but not so much
And I know they won’t pay.

 

They won’t pay
You know why?
Because I did not smile enough
That at one point
I frowned.

What If

What is with the urge
Of that one last meeting
Before you leave
Even it is for coming back
And what if you don’t?
But I know you would
And it’s not like
I’d come to drop you
To the airport or the train station
I am bad at saying goodbyes..
That will be unnecessary
Unless you are not coming back.
But you are
So what is with the urge
Of seeing you one last time
Getting a bear hug
And giving one
As if it is the last time
Even if it is not
And what if it is?
But I know you would.

Life, Death and the Choice

 

I am darkness
I have been inside the mind
And the corners of the heart
Of this person
Who decided to call it quits
Just yesterday.

I saw there was pain
Prolonged suffering
And healing that never happened
Perhaps a hug would have stopped him
Perhaps a walk would have
Or a talk could have.

I tried to wave at the homies
Even the friends
See me.. Save him from me
Love him, take him out
Love her, take her for therapy
But they couldn’t see me.
Continue reading “Life, Death and the Choice”

Poem | Kesa Mehsoos Hota Hai | How It Feels to be Molested

I had first written this poem in English and then translated it for a poetry recital at Conflictorium, Ahmedabad. I also got a chance to recite it at a panel discussion at Gujarat Literature Festival and at a research exhibition event conducted by Centre for Urban Equity, CEPT University, Ahmedabad. Here’s the Hindi Version of the poem.

Kesa Mehsoos Hota Hai

Hindi Version (English version available below this one)

Esa nahi hai ki mene koshish nahi ki
Koshish karna zaroori hota hai
Mene bi ki hai koshish
Koshish surakshit rehne ki
Jab ghar se bahar niklu
Kyu ki Ghar bethe toh guzara nahi hota!

Ese toh surakshit rehne ka brahmgyan muje hai
Kaafi suna hua hai
Esa karo, esa na karo

Atit ki almaari mein se
kuch kisse nikal rakhe mez par.
Kya pehna tha mene uss roz?
Sleeveless t-shirt aur Shorts
Hmmmm
Theek hai, iss baar
Kuch poora pehena jaaye
Continue reading “Poem | Kesa Mehsoos Hota Hai | How It Feels to be Molested”

Hometown



Hometown means Emotions

Tons of emotions

Ones that come down with tears

Even if you have been so far

For too long

And didn’t care much

Didn’t stay in touch.



Hometown means Vulnerability 

Where your roots belong

Whether you want it or not

Whether you stay there or not

You are a part of it

Whether you were born there or not

That’s where it all began.


Hometown means Memories 

Constant flashes of the happy past

Loved ones that are no more

Where you picture your little self

Walking towards the alley

Holding grandpa’s hand

Now Every part of you wants to

Recreate that moment

You long for that touch.


Hometown means Free time

With things that looked different before

And people too

Time is all you had

Late mornings late Lunches

Badminton, Rains, play, mosquito bites

And Smell of the earth.



But somethings still remain the same 

Like Mausi’s yummy food

Like the people who are meaninglessly still love you

Bringing tears that don’t come out

But overload within

Without your permission.

 

It’s not the place you’re in love with 

It’s the smell, feel, the people and the memories of the place

You don’t go back to your forefathers and ancestors grave because you must

But because it adds it up perfectly.

Hometown is Summary.

 

(What do you think about this? Would love to know. Comment here or mail it to at rtnair91@gmail.com. If you like what I write, make sure you FOLLOW the blog.)

The Eternal Search and the Eternal Find

Losing a best friend

It’s an eternal search
And an eternal find
The one so rare
That it might not ever
Happen again.

It’s not easy as a rhyme
In a naïve poem
It’s a classic
Without a rhyme
Yet perfect.

It’s just the presence
Of that one person
That drives energy
That builds conversation
Some even without words.

It’s an eternal search
And an eternal find
Not because there are no other people
But because there are very few
That get you.

It’s an eternal search
Because everyone is just trying
Not to be lonely

Continue reading “The Eternal Search and the Eternal Find”