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“god’s work” – Nayana Nair

i wanted to say
please don’t drag my god
into your selfish quest for power.
please don’t turn my god
into a tool to manipulate mind.
but i couldn’t say those things
for my god was no longer my god,
he/she belonged to people who were ready
to accept any lie, any cruelty
to propagate their beliefs and their way of life
to protect their gods (or so they say).
so i had no choice
but to cut myself from this doctrine
of power and numbers.
not to protect my god,
but to protect my mind and myself,
to protect my faith in the endangered humanity
when all i face are the proofs of its non-existence,
when all i find are people who think shaming people
and spilling blood is god’s work.
maybe it is selfish
but i want to remember my god as someone more kinder.

“White Eternity” – Nayana Nair

The gentle snow,
my longing eyes,
your beautiful smile-
all against the landscape lost in eternal white.

All these are no longer my precious memory of my everlasting love.
I do not remember when you became this person
who capable to such harm and such deceit.
It is a shame that the you from long ago
is only alive in my heart.
And though I do not want to do this
but I can’t keep you in my heart any longer.
I want to forget you
the way you have forgotten me.
I want to let go of this memory of perfect love
that no longer exists.
I can’t keep dragging you to where you do not belong.
I can’t bear to look at you expecting every minute
for a change in your heart.
I can’t depend on you to become what you once were
and I am letting go of you
not with disappointment
but because
I have seen too much of what you are capable of
that I can no longer be the girl
with innocent eyes and longing heart
even if you return to what you were.
So I finally quit being your dream
as you have stopped being mine.

But I know
our silhouettes still walk in the white eternity together
even if we resent them for that,
even if we forget them.

“Date” – Nayana Nair

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The life that runs ahead of me
and the one that I take and drag behind
all center around the habits and frienships
built for the conveniences
of a sorrow that I cannot date.

“Count the Roads” – Nayana Nair

Posted on

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I didn’t see her pack her bag
but I knew it was definitely hers,
from the way she could drag it with such an ease.
The same ease with which
she dragged most things in her life.
Her face twisted and moved
till it found that smile
that said, “Ignore me, I’m happy”.
As she hailed her taxi,
I tried to count the days it would take
for me to give up too.
I counted the roads that must pass
before we do not have to think
about the depleting years in our hand
and lonely dreams in our diminishing vision.

“Keys” – Nayana Nair

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The keys beneath my finger
are tired of creating words and sounds,
that live too less and die too soon,
because they couldn’t breathe
in the air devoid of you.
Bigger waves of noises
drag them, drown them
and lose them to the place
where they lived before they were born.
They wait in the crowd of wannabe songs
only to become calluses of forsaken hands.

“Settling dust of memories” – Nayana Nair

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My past
bleeds slowly onto my clothes,
onto the furniture,
on the buttons of elevator,
on the currency that leaves my hand,
on the roads I drag myself through everyday.
And they do not get lost
only because they leave my mind.
They are forever in front of my eyes
forming a layer of sadness on my daily life.
So that I do not forget
what all I have lost, what all I have suffered
to reach this point in life
where I can really smile.
I think it is another me,
the one who only knew the worse of world
who fears she will be forgotten,
so she doesn’t want to leave.

“Blue of our Minds” – Nayana Nair

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The strip of land
that lies in the midst
of the blue of our minds.
There
shall we sit face to face and talk.

We could talk of many things
you could tell me
how your hands throw away
every trinkets and prize,
only because they don’t feel as
you thought they would in your hands.
How they are too heavy on your soul
that doesn’t want to be dragged down.
How they are just things that can be lost
and are found again and again
by hands that will surely loose them again.
And you don’t actually care where they end up.

I could tell you
of my world
where all of these cold things
that your hand detest
have kept me alive,
where my hands brush away
care of others
because I am calculating
which piece of myself I would have to give away
as the cost of the kindness.
(Yes, every kindness has a cost,
even if it is never demanded.)
Because everything that has a warm heart
has a furnace of fire inside
that burns everyone equally.

But I am here sitting opposite you
and I am ready to get my heart broken.
Trust me when I say-
It takes a lot to break me.
And only when it comes to you,
I am not looking for an easy way out.

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