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“Mess” – Nayana Nair

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A shadow moves in the clearing ahead
avoiding the columns of lighted air.
It steps on the green
now splattered with red
and looks for a hand that can help,
to get rid of this blood.
It finds my face and looks away
seeing probably I am in a bigger mess.

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“What I Remember (1)” – Nayana Nair

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the floors of the uni i went to were too slippery, too shiny, crowded with too many people whom i couldn’t look at nor understand.
i see people print the words of fond memories in the air when they are reminded of days when they had friends.
but i do not remember anyone having friends. i remember people who knew how to be friendly when it suited them.
i remember the world being as bitter as i was.
i remember the callousness in their voices that surfaced only at the mention of someone’s misfortune or someone’s flaw.
and sure they must have been entertaining to many.
maybe I should have enjoyed a gossip or two.
but i couldn’t bring myself to listen to all that was said about people i had avoided looking at.
i always thought no one wanted to looked at, no one wanted to be talked about, just like i how i didn’t want these things to happen to me.
but maybe what people expect and what people do are not exactly the same thing.
i was no lover of the social drama that entertained many.
i always felt this whole scheme of forced amusement and required bonding reeked of fakeness and pending betrayals.

“Better Understanding” – Nayana Nair

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Her fingers brushed past my skin,
in a hurry to avoid what I am.
As if she knew what to avoid, what not to remind,
what must not be spoken – for the love to remain.

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Only after I learnt to let my footsteps
be taken by the waves,
only after taking myself out
of every unsolved equation-
I knew enough of world to know
the scent of tears on her face,
even when her happiness was believable enough.

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Once her fingers had brushed past my skin
in a hurry to avoid being found
as if she knew all places to hide, what not to show,
what not to be – for love to remain.

“Rewrite” – Nayana Nair

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I could say that you are so far away
that you cannot know what makes me
even if you tried.
For I feel the excuse of distance cannot fill this basket
that would have been essentially filled with the
reasons that are easier to put in mouth
but difficult to wrap our heart around.
Like the words that are often deleted and rewritten
so as not to offend.
And rewritten thousand times
so that they say nothing, mean nothing.
And we are content at the fact
that we could voice something in this world
even if the purpose of these words
was to just to fill up the air, fill up our time.
And the space just widens between us,
not because
there is distance between our heart
(because this wide world was made
for our heart to roam,
so this distance cannot be avoided).
But because I could never let you
rest your head, rest your questions
on the lap of my thoughts.
So that you may know
how my life (just like yours)
simmers under the heat of
indifferent care
that we are all used to receive.

“Sleeve of Silk” – Nayana Nair

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An ornament blue that reminded me of your eyes.
The sleeve of silk that had finally felt like mine.
The black of my eyes, the blood of my lips.
They took it away one by one.
While you looked on
almost happy to have avoided my fate.
My life became colored with
a dazzling red of sun
being devoured by sky and sea alike.
And no flowery word you use
to soften the memory- of what I felt
and what I suffered,
could remove me from the hell that I was thrown
only for you to climb out.
Maybe you never considered
how I had to pay the price for your dream.
Maybe you never thought of me
when you walked the evening roads
lit with the warm light of possibilities.
Maybe that’s why you stand in front of me
asking why I am bitter.

“Who seem to know a lot” – Nayana Nair

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Nothing scares me more than people
who seem to know a lot about world,
who seem to know every answer
to every problem.
Especially when the answer
is that the weight and blame of this
collapsing world
only lies on shoulder of few.
And answers mostly revolve about how
not every one is equal.
I urge those people to make their homes in these
boxes of labels that they use as weapon
against people who were just living their own life
and live their life avoiding any thing
that might break their illusion of self-righteousness.
For that is all they have.
Nothing scares me more
than a person who thinks
what he thinks is best for the world,
who thinks that emotions and lives
are disposable things,
in front of the grand plan he has
for himself and this world that only he supposedly owns.

“Only Place” – Nayana Nair

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The discomfort of the afternoon rains
that turns into monologues,
into denials,
into tear,
into slumber
and love
for the one who can never be lost.
Who can only be found in sleep now.
They say what I see,
what I feel,
is what they call dream,
just a delusion to avoid.
But why
only here
I can feel the ground that I walk on
and can trust the hearts that I lean on?
Why must I leave this place?
Only place where I can love
and be worthy of being loved.

 

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