A-small-startup - Razia.

Big Brother

It’s great to live with a sibling they say.

The fights are just a form of love they say

They said a lot of things

They said that siblings as rebels would one day turn out to be best friends

I miss that kind of a sibling.

I have a brother, not a single child.

They say a sibling tries to pull you out of shit.

He has never known I was in shit.

They say a sibling helps to stay you sober

I am just sobbing being sober

I know this poem sucks

It just that I miss having a brother

And words are not making logic.

It’s just flushing out

My dear brother,

We have had fights, and a lot of hatred. I don’t know why you hated me or why I hated you. I love you and always have, that’s why I have and will always give the world to you. I’m sorry for not calling you, not talking to you. But I miss you, I terribly do. But face it; we have just gone through shit and to deal that I have no remedy. I don’t know how to fix things, but I just want to tell you that I want a brother, the usual caring big brother. Come back to me. Take me back.

I came home late and found Mike sitting on the couch very disturbed

Me : what happened Mike, you seem upset, everything fine at work..?

Mike : everything is fine at work, I just have to attend a wedding reception tonight, I just got a call.

Me : what's wrong in that? you tired?

Mike : no, Mary is getting married, remember.... my ex.?

Me : It's fine baby, since she is fine why do you worry..? Go, wish her and come back.

Mike : *sighs* ok, I'll go, can you come with me, please..?

*my phone rings*

Me : hello, yes, oh, how are you.?

what.?

Congratulations..... when..?

Today! I'll try

You won't believe this, Mark got married today and he just invited me for his reception, like now...!

Mike: what..? You're ex, Mark..? What a fucking coincidence..?

Me : I guess we both have to go and congratulate the couple, I wish I could have with you...

Mike : It's fine, get dressed.

We got dressed up and we both headed out, he took a cab and I took the car, I walk in to the reception hall and turn around to find Mike

Both of us were upset as shit. It was over, we could have not gone, but we had to, we had to tell them we moved on...

Mike : what the fuck, wait... really.

Yes our ex were getting married to each other, which means their ex got married to each other, which was fucking crazy. We dint invite them for our wedding, so they have no idea...

We walked up, posed for a pic, him next to her and me next to Mark. It was the worst situation I was in...

We walk out hand in hand...

Mary & Mark : that was my ex, deal done of inviting them to our wedding...

Now, more than us they were fucked up exactly on their wedding day...

If I could...

I always wonder, if I could do a lot of things, life would have been a bit more simpler.

if I could read other people's mind it would have been simpler to avoid complications, to not hurt people. I would not have broken the trust of my beloved and regret those lies.

if I could go back in time, I would have undone a lot of things that hurt her and made her eyes go wet. I would have not fallen in love with all those wrong guys and now be in a state of hating love.

if I could get a second chance, I would apologize to all those whom I hurt.

if I could.... if I just could... I would do a hundred things that made life simpler, that made life easier.

Bon Appétit

I haven't tumbled here in a while. I haven't written a story in a while. Not only that, but I look at old poems and think of storing them somewhere. I look at the ways in which I have narrated stories and I save them to watch later. I look at the scribblings at the back of my notebook, but before I could finish reading them, the to-do list from the front pages start haunting me. Furthermore, I open my laptop to look for some inspiration to write, you see I haven't written in a while. But then I lose the confidence to write. The “Tha ka dhi mi, tha ka ju nu” notes my roommate sings for the kids of her classical dance class rings in my head as I try to find a subject to write about. The tabs open in my laptop reminds me of the work I have to finish before the dawn of tomorrow, because Human Resources has asked me to finish tasks and have a new reporting format. But then I want to write. I want to write the same way Julia cooks in the film Julie and Julia; or is it Julia and Julie. It's my favourite film, and yet I keep forgetting the name.

I try to play a film in the background, some music that plays through my phone, Excel sheets and presentation decks, phone calls and emails. I'm multitasking, I tell myself. I've been multitasking for so many years, that somewhere I forgot how to perform just one task at a time.

I'm making tea and there's an episode of some random show playing in the background. I'm doing the laundry and there is music playing from my room. I'm bathing and in-between shampoo getting into my eyes and trying to balance on one foot I hear Sheldon Cooper explaining the theory of asymmetry.

I'm also a mental health professional, while I keep telling my clients to not google their symptoms, I struggle to restrain myself from self diagnosing.

The phone chimes and I know it's my best friend from miles away telling me her day went equally bad and at the end of the day we'll video call each other just to say “Life sucks (Exclamation point)”

I know I'm deviating from what I started writing about, I have no idea what I'm writing about. I think of sending the link to my partner once I finish posting this, but then there is a voice in the corner of my head that says I'll not post this, that I'll do Ctrl+A and click delete.

I know I shouldn't. It's after ages I decide to write, why shouldn't the world see it. At this point, you would be wondering why did I break into a new paragraph, do I have something to say? Am I changing the subject? Maybe yes. Because as I write this, I think of the first post I made somewhere in October 2017, and I can see the spelling and grammatical errors on that post. Not saying there aren't any now. By this time, all the above paragraphs have 5+ errors. The multiple grammar tools on my windows have come up, shooting red lines on the error. I ignore it for now. I can proofread much later.

So, what am I writing? I'm writing about not writing. I'm writing about having hated the urge to get my writing validated from strangers online, who have now become acquaintances. I'm writing about how my Instagram page is now non-existent and my Tumblr page had long died. But I will still shout to the world and tell them that I have gone back to writing, that I will write on a random day after a random period of time.

Adiós reader!

Have you ever felt so lost

That the only company you find is the smoke from the cigarette

And when the bud touches your lips, it's the closest you've got to open your mounth

To spill out words.

You come back round and round,

To the same place, you think you're lost at

But you're back where you started.

Maybe you're here

And that's where you should be.

You vent to the open sky

The smoke comes back and hits your eyes

And the bud that burns your lips.

Sometimes the solitude is the company you want

And the company you want waits for you

Somewhere lost in the same circle.

You go back and they turn the other way.

You're lost finding them

And they're lost hoping to find you.

Sometimes you think you wanted this

And other times you think you don't.

Sometimes you don't have the energy to do it

And when you do. You don't find the people you pushed long time ago.

Sometimes you feel this was how it was supposed to be.

And other times you don't have the energy to undo any of it.

Only if life was as easier as control Z

And a fresh sheet pops up and you can write it all over again

The outside word is harsh and cold

That’s why we keep our doors closed…

My mom told me this the first time I asked the reason behind closing the door.

Then another question arised as to why we keep our windows open

And she replied “to view the world.”

But….

Wait…!

Why see the harsh world

If we close our doors to it.

Why have windows if we want cocoons…

It was then I realized lately

That we dont close our doors because the outside world is harsh and cold

But because we are scared of the outside world

Which consists of our “own”

And we still have windows because we are anxious to know whats happening out there

This lie we tell

The blame we put

Its all an escape

To the fear within us…

The fear towards us.

We close our doors

Because we fear the outside world

19:03:18

The window

If only you could open doors that would change things,

Sometimes like how you think of running far away to those places you never know of

Those meadows and sunsets you have written about, you've read about, you've thought about.

I don't know about you, but I have.

I have wanted to open that window to the perfect home I've imagined.

To that home, where amma and appa had figured out things

Where my older brother wasn't threatened by my birth

Where I wasn't threatened by that hand that made me uncomfortable.

Where my screams would be heard through the window.

Where when I cried, I had a hand to hold on to.

Where I did not run away from, I did not ignore calls, where my memories of childhood were not fights and hatred.

That window which did not show me trying to kill myself

I dream of building that home, where I am safe, I am heard and I am wanted. But now when I do, I feel like I'm caged inside the cocoon that I have build shooing away people. While then it was being in a house that wasn't my home and now a home that feels like a house.

Sometimes, someday I will open that window where I will have a painting hung on the wall of a meadow, a framed picture of people on my bedside table, and my bookshelves across the bed. Someday it will contain a hand that will embrace me and a shoulder to lean on to.

Image from: Razia @a-small-startup

...

I have that one person in life to whom I can be me and still be confident that he wont judge.

Well thats what I believe everytime I meet that person.

That one person changes with time.

Sometimes it's you

And yet other times its him or her or her

Everytime I end up talking hours together

Not leaving the smallest detail of what happened in the day

I fear that he would get bored

That he would not feel anymore.

Today I could sence that he was getting tired of me being excited of the same thing again and again

Maybe I should stop because

Maybe I get too excited about petty things

But I thought he would understand that it means the world to me.

I never thought I would say this for him because till yesterday I had something else to tell.

Yet one more time people have proven that they cant be what they promise to be

And all those promises starts to flow with the rain leaving me all back to square 1.

Thinking what went wrong this time

The mornings have been lazy lately,

with disturbed patterns of sleep,

you wonder when you go to sleep and when you wake up.

.

But the mornings these days are also tremendously beautiful,

the sunlight hitting you just the right amount through the windows

the tree outside that’s blooming,

leaving just the right amount of flowers on the ground.

.

The birds chirruping outside breaking the silence,

the squirrels cry out of joy,

all of them coming out at the right time.

.

The evening strolls in the terrace,

with my coffee in hand,

the book I’m reading,

yet again the birds and  the wind that brings in peace.

.

And then today came the first of summer rains,

the birds all flying with a sudden alarm,

they welcome the rain even before we know of it,

the eagles flying above the clouds, welcoming the warmth.

.

The petrichor hitting me first even before the drops of rain,

I let them fall on my face,

the heat comes down

there is this sudden chillness in the atmosphere,

and then it rains heavily.......

.

I sit down enjoying the rainfall, 

finishing my book,

wanting to write about it all,

but it’s worth the wait.

I wanted to take it all in.

.

with rain came the wind,

the lighting and thunder,

the sun who went into hiding

comes back with company,

.

the colors of

violet, indigo, blue, green, yellow, orange, and red

fills the sky,

.

I continue sipping my coffee,

reading my book,

looking up constantly at the sky, the birds and the rainbow.

.

I go back to sleep that night,

with a huge smile, a content heart and a finished book.

Thinking of a beautiful day that unfolded itself

seeing all those that no one saw,

that no one noticed,

that beauty,

and that melancholy of the day having finished so fast

the melancholy with serenity

that no one saw

no one would ever see

the melancholy with serenity...

.

I've always been alone. Especially at nights. The loneliness strikes hard on nights I cry, screeming into my pillow. In those pitch dark nights the one gleam of light that fills my room slowly and beautifully is the moon. Irrespective of how it is, where it is, the moon comes to me. Through my window the comfort I get is the warmth of a mother and the company of a friend. On moonless nights it's as if the moon hands me over to the stars, they shine so bright and I wait for the moon to come to me. I wait for the moon to come to me.