Impregnated!!

The mystery is finally solved! I AM pregnant. Pregnant with extreme sadness that grows inside of me, each day, every day. Pregnant with this feeling of nausea at the thought of how self-consumed I have become. Pregnant with the morning sickness I feel every morning that makes me lay in my bed hoping for a miracle that would take me some place else. And I shut my eyes tight, really right, hoping and praying for someone to protect me and hug me. And as I lay there with my eyes shut I try to escape this feeling of dread. Making an enemy of reality, I live in this world of make believe and as I do so, I hurt so many in the process. That ugly face of a narcissist that stares back at me from the mirror, I can't stand to look at it!! How I wish it would go away.
I feel the rain on the inside of the window and I am soaked and I am cold. Only if in l hadn't been such a snob and befriended the rain when I could. Now it just rains on.. it rains on me!
I am a ghost that moves about in a daze. I am that ghost who sees people love me but one who knows not how to love them back for I feel nothing. Cold! The absence of warmth, that is what I have become!
And as I sit here so consumed with myself, wallowing on self-pity, I don't know who I am anymore. I don't know who she is, one who sits here! This wasn't me!! Who is she??
And they say, "thank you Miss Bhatia for your generous contribution. It's people like you......."
People like me? People who flash their credit cards and think they've done their bit and and can now sit down and think about nothing but themselves for the rest of the month? Is that who I have become? Of all the masks I wear, this is definatelt not the one I chose to be!! This is not who I will be!!

Zilch!

Under a grey sky, the immobile tree, my soul companion. All else fades away. Maybe it's not important enough. There are these thoughts that run amock, in my head. A Tsunami in the making. As if in a crowded room where everyone is talking and everyone's talking all at once. I catch a few words from here and there. 'Anxiety?', 'Consciousness?', 'Fear?', 'Happiness?', 'Smiles?', Worrries?', Future?', 'Past?', 'Sunshine?', 'Practicality?' . Those useless words! What good are they to me? They seem to add up no more. Heck! I am no Pythagorus but I wasn't looking for a revolutionary theorem anyways. All I was, all I am looking for is for them to make a little sense. Phhbt! I couldn't be bothered with it anymore as I sit here blocking everything else. I hold on to that thought that fills me with a sudden rush of happiness, with it, music fills the air. I breathe again! I come out of my trance and I notice how people wear alot of Bench. I notice that man sitting on his doorstep smoking after what seems like days. I notice my neighbors car is full of kid stuff. I didn't even know they had a baby. I move on and I notice a wooden skeleton and what looks like a carpenters' table. Perhaps, they are working on something. I notice the trash cans still full of garbage. Like the week before, council still hasn't taken the rubbish. I reach home and I it's 10 to seven. As I close the door to the outside world, I notice how the seconds hand ticks a mocking goodbye over and over again, as if to say, ''How long before this ends? How long? How long? How long? How long?'' And I spot it! There it is! that feeling of not feeling anything at all. There it is that feeling of being empty again.

Death!

Ceasing to live is also a part of life. Yes, death is a part of life and the more you repeat it, the more theses words start to sink in. Though, the reason is still unknown but no life is also a part of life.
We call it Death!
The same dark, omnious word that we often use as a joke but a word, strong enough to send a shiver down your spine. Is it supposed to be so scary? But then I guess, unknown always is. We are all such control freak, at the end of the day, and we like to know the whats? the whys? and hows? and so on. In a way, anything mysterious becomes sinister, by default.
"He was only a little kid, she was such a happy soul, they should have lived longer! It is unfair!"
18 0r 80, will it EVER be fair? Will we EVER say, "Oh! you've lived long enough, it's time you say goodbye?" What IS the 'right' age to die? We were all born, so, we all have the right to live.
"Zindagi badi honi chahiye, babu moshaye, lambi nahi."
These words seem to ring in my ears. I believe, it really holds true. Not living is sadder than the absence of life.
And what when somebody dies, do we actually moan their ot being able to live or our own loss? Does it all come down to us being selfish?
And why should it be so morbid? We don't know howthings are after.. If it's all left to our imagination, maybe it isn't that bad after all or maybe we are again trying to ease our pain.
I guess, I wouldn't know till that man in the black cloak is out to get me.

Transparent!

I seemed to have lost my faith!
Perhaps it was the swine that got me. It must have been it! The
constant gnawing at my insides, the never-ending anxiety, the receding
faith, the oceans I cried, all must have been the symptoms.
I was looking for answers, I could not find, them legs moving on in a
trance, them eyes shut tight!
I sit here today and I have my answers. I always had them, I just
wasn’t looking. It is so simple that I can’t put it in words which
only makes me realise how complicated we like to make everything
around us.

When was the last time that we actually admired something
that didn’t have an intricate design? We sit here with morbid thoughts
running like hurricanes in our minds, moaning about how wrongs things
were and we call out his name with such a sorry desperation in our
voices but when was the last that we turned to him with a faith so
strong that things would be better? When was the last time that we
used the eyes he gave to look at him or used our ears to hear his
voice? When was the last time we loved everything we have with our
heart? When was the last time we smiled a smile that reached our eyes?
When was the last time we appreciated someone else without a hint of
jealousy?
We cry about the problems we created for ourselves and every time we
do that we look for God to pin it on but when was the last time we
actually take ownership of all those things that we didn’t do?
It’s just so simple so I let it be like it is! :)

Puzzle Pieces!

In a miserable attempt, I sit here trying to place this puzzle piece, I named Sumira, the only problem is that it just doesn't seem to fit anywhere and I
try to shape so it does fit somewhere, I try to sharpen the edges. No, no that doesn't work. So, I smoothen the surface, I mould and re-mould it but there is no place that it fits.

Surrounded by those people I love and by those who love me, I feel so alone. A solitary reaper, perhaps. I try to make myself heard, I voice my thoughts but them dreaded words cease to make sense. The mind stops to comprehend. I look for answers I never get. I want someone to hear me, someone, anyone. I shout, I scream those words that echo in my head. Laughing faces, mischevious grins, flowing tears, everlasting sadness in some eyes, fires ablaze, oceans of blood, greens that turn silver, blue that turns brown, ah! that sweet sweet fragrance of money, and even sweeter that of power that follows the stench of vomit, flowers turn into thorns, a flicker of hope, the world spins madly on, the faith recedes, torpid corpes, the constant buzzing, pitch darkness, Void. A MAGNETIC GINORMOUS VOID.

And I find myself wishing that unspoken taboo wish. I find myself wishing Death. Maybe there is peace there. Maybe..

Hypocrite!

I lay open before you like a book who’s every page speaks of the hypocrite that is me,
And true to that pet name, from human that I am, the human that I was, I start to turn into a zombie.
I talk and I talk but nothing is being said.
I speak a language with no meaning; I speak a language of the dead.
I see the delusions created by my mind.
A child’s play of the make-believe, it is here I lay, I lay confined.
Ignoring all else, I listen to only my favourite channels on the radio.
I paint them colourful those dreary walls and for the moment it sizzles and sparkles with them lights aglow.
I speak of happiness, I feel not in my soul,
I probably can’t afford it; I am living on the dole.
I shed a silent tear that goes unnoticed by my heart, my heart that stands frozen again my rib cage.
How long will I go on like this, I can’t seem to determine my strength or its gauge. I live the life, I often criticize and all for what?
A moment’s satisfaction, that wanders off easy?
Squashed in the inches of spaces, I breathe so heavy, I breathe so wheezy.
The path is clear, and yet, I lay there immobile like a cripple.
My simple life so undulated now marked as if with ripple.
A cripple I am with a sound body.
All so excessively showy, all so gaudy!
Oh! That faith that once was so strong recedes bit by bit.
So scathed already, wont someone please please please smoothen this grit!
I fade away to turn into a stranger even to me,
I live like a hypocrite, a hypocrite that is ME!

Being 23!

It’s all about the number 23 with me these days, a number that I can’t seem to associate with and I stop and stare, every single time and my brain begins that familiar activity, thinking and I think to myself, I haven’t really been scared of anything. I am not saying that I have been Xena, the warrior princess or anything. It’s just that fear has always been an outsider to me. I have led such a secure life. People are always afraid of so many things, of God who I have always seen as a protector and not a threat, of losing their families. Thankfully, I have always been untouched by tragedy. They are afraid of being alone, and to me it seems, I never left my mother’s womb for everywhere I look, there is comfort, be it with family or with friends. I haven’t seen a cold cold winter’s day as there is warmth that envelops me every minute and love that tucks me in every night. Then there are people who fear money in terms of loss, but money, has never received enough importance for me to be afraid of money. Maybe, I have had sufficient money to fulfil all my needs that I never really needed more. I have screamed at the sight of a lizard, I have shivered at the thought of a ghost but ‘fear’ in the true sense of the word, I have never known. 23, opens a lot of doors to me, doors, I never knew existed, doors, I probably never wanted to enter, doors that probably never raised any interest in me. At 23, I find myself forced to venture into areas out of my comfort zone. At 23, I enter the philosopher’s “real world”, where I am introduced to questions, I would not call them insecurities but still questions, I would not ask myself before. The world, to me is a broken tape that is either moving in fast forward or maybe, it’s just me who is moving at a tortoise’s pace. Seasons have always changed but now colours have changed as well. Silver giants have replaced the cool blue or the serene green of the skies and trees. High-tech gadgets, provoking a ooohs and aahs, a magicians’ marvel, capable of doing the unimaginable, I have realised, are just nuts and bolts to me. I feel lonely, in terms as I feel like I am the only ‘layman’ amongst these very learned men and women I encounter. While, my neighbour works day in and day out towards fulfilling his dream of buying that shiny new car that he passes buy through the giant glass, everyday to work, the car that would embarrass a cheetah, I sit here, fantasizing about this dream world, a simple life with my loved ones, laughing through the day. A place where there are lush green hills, blue skies that give way to awe striking starry nights. There is a moo from a cow and a bark from a dog, there is the excitement of chirping birds. A calm river flows right next to my warm cottage. There is peaceful music that fills the environment. I dream of that picturesque scene that a painter would paint on his canvas. I dream of being that being that little girl that Norah Jones sings about, spinning, laughing and dancing to her favourite song. She keeps her eyes wide open and sings her song to any one that comes along. At 23, I have found out that I dream too much. Having been tethered by the umbilical cord, all my life, I have now discovered areas that I could not enter before. As I muster all the courage in me to cross the threshold into these “danger zones”, the so-called “realities of life”, I am overcome by this immense feeling of gratitude for it is now that I can truly measure what a wonderful life I have led so far. I feel like an explorer, sadly, I am not always proud of my discoveries, for I have not everybody is even half as lucky as I have been. As I move forward, I have unravelled the beast in “humans” that is a masochist who inflicts pain on himself, who tortures his own self, rapes himself of every thing innocent that is there inside of him. I cross into these forbidden barriers and I grasp that I am only an infant and that the universe is too vast, that being an understatement. Questions of the hows? The whys? The wheres? Do not seem important for I feel there are no answers to these in this world. Ironically, at 23, I feel like a little lost girl, who does not want to be found. I recognise that I have to find my own path. There are things to be done. There are things that I NEED to do. I am Sumira Bhatia, the girl sitting next to you in the bus gazing outside the window into the cosmic universe and this is my travelogue.