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Tag Archives: dreams

“Eventually” – Nayana Nair

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This jail, that I could not break out of,
it had bars made of petals,
ceilings lighted with memories
and under my feet
the hearts of people beating only by my love
(or so I wanted to believe).
It was the fragile nature of this confinement
that made my escape impossible.
And even though I was a captive-
that small space was also a world,
a less harsher world.

Once I make my way out,
there would be nowhere to return to.
It was a bubble that couldn’t be remade
by regrets and tears.
For many reasons, I promised myself an escape everyday
without even trying to leave.
I know I will leave eventually.
At some point, we all have left those rooms-
that feel like prison when lived in
and feel like unattainable dreams once lost.

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“My promise to you” – Nayana Nair

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I will place the promise of tomorrow

on your lips.

They will first taste of cyclones in my breath.

Then they will taste of desperate dying breath.

The will taste of light and of blindness.

They will taste of the dreams that slip from your eyes.

They will taste of the skin that

we are yet to grow.

They taste of things

that we are yet to lose.

I will place the promise of tomorrow

on your lips,

that will soon be your yesterday.

My promise will be memory of

passing trains and fading love.

“Let me sell you a story” – Nayana Nair

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Let me sell you a story.
A lie
that my hollow life could live in.
A home that can be changed to my need.
A reality that never exists,
but is as real as
the stories,
the lives
that we avoided by one choice.
Let me sell you a story,
let me sell you my dreams.
I have no need for them anyway.

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“Flowers, skies and me” – Nayana Nair

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I place myself in the center of room
as you panic to pack up your stuff,
being careful that nothing is left behind.
There are flowers growing in the corners of the room
that ask you to stay.
There are green skies
that we painted.
There are flaws your and mine
that decorate this wall.
There are TV channels
that we can surf through,
there are days to be wasted.
And I want to waste them with you.

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I want you to stay.
I almost blurt it out.
But had it not been for these flowers and skies
and days written in color of your name,
I could have left
to find the dreams I never had.
There is a chandelier
of blood red glass
of your sighs and goodbyes.
I know you are not running away from me
but from our devils,
from our destruction,
that lay between us
every night.

“Be You” – Nayana Nair

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Oh! Let me be you.
Who walks with a sun in your pocket
for every rainy day.
Who stood at crossroads
and decided which road shouldn’t exist.
Let me be you for a day.
So that I am not the one
who hides in hollow words,
who makes her bed on the dreams of others.
Let me be you,
so that I can put out my hand
always with the confidence
knowing that the love I ask
shall be given.

But what is this that I feel?
Why my hands shake?
Why my heart cries?

Is it because
the one who is breaking the wall
with bare bleeding hands
has the same pain, same fear
as the one who is hiding behind that wall.
Is it because
this love, this life
leaves no one without scar.

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“Co-exist” – Nayana Nair

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While the rest of the rooms
were sleeping in cold,
cradling the mere humans
who could only do so much
as to ignore the present,
dreaming of summers,
that which in their deepest heart
they had no much love for either.
But mind has always been
a place to escape to,
when we were not escaping from problems
but from our self.

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I sat at
the dark narrow stairs,
that led to nowhere particular,
that were almost always flooded with light.
I was lucky to have had that.
To have a place where
the fresh rays of cold sun
and my warm agitated heart
coud co-exit,
without destroying each other.
I could only do so much
as to forget myself and my life
feel what cold is,
to know I was (un)lucky to have this.
To have so much comforts
that I cannot complain of my pain.
But irrespective of these comforts
I would still rot away.

“What next?” – Nayana Nair

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I never wish to wake up
to face this world
that always demands that I must dream.
And these dreams need to be big enough,
must require effort,
must involve sacrifice,
or at the least be tangible or materialistic.
And I feel something must be wrong with me
to know
that the only thing I want
is to be everyday like this.
Where each day I don’t have to decide
“What next?”
But rather live today where I am
and be tomorrow where fate takes me.
I could never plan for the years to come.
I never knew I would live this long.

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