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“What I Remember (10)” – Nayana Nair

I want to write about the boring,
about all that is insignificant,
about the trust that lasts,
about the promises that are kept,
about the things we don’t have to beg from god.

I belive there must be some things in life that goes as we wanted to,
that didn’t take our effort, our prayers to go right,
that fell into place so naturally
that we didn’t even notice the ease they gave us.
The boring that is neglected, that is mocked
must be a dream for a person I don’t know of.
The days of charity and donation,
the realization of the lack that we don’t experience
hits us only briefly,
gives us only short lived sadness or gratitude
and a bit of pride (that has a little longer life)
in ourselves for venturing out of our boredom
to witness the lacking of others,
to distribute a bit of what we have in abundance.

But I am not that changed,
I am not that affected.
Tomorrow when I wake up
I will forget
about the stomachs that are never filled,
about the dry glass and throats,
about the darkness that night brings,
about little curious eyes that will never see a book.
Tomorrow, again I will shamelessly
write about my need for love and acceptance.

But that is how I am
and with time I have learned
not to feel guilty for being like this,
for that is the kind of human I was made to be.
I will only be bothered
by the small bruise on my face,
the small cuts on my hand,
even if I know the existence of greater pain,
for that knowledge is not an anesthetic .
I am a petty creature like that
and I can only really feel my own loss.

“All Such Things” – Nayana Nair

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The days that starts with
a painful realization of the world.
The nights that stops with
this awareness put to sleep.
And you
whom I can’t shake off from my thoughts.
All such things that happen just because they do
and not because I am any better or any worse
than anyone else.
All such things that I must accept
with gratitude and courage.
All such things and more
that falls on us
sometimes like snow,
sometimes life flowers,
sometimes like rain
and sometimes like love.

“Apples” – Nayana Nair

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apple

As she hands me a slice of peeled apples,
I wonder how many people
she has fed.
How many felt the gratitude for it,
only for the time its taste
lasted on their tongue.
What it must feel like,
peeling apples for your daughter
while she is slowly peeling you away
from her life.
Unknowingly and ruthlessly,
looking for something
better out there.
While she hurls words like
“You won’t ever understand”.
But she must be used to it now
getting used to this hurt
is maybe the only way to survive love.

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