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“Receding Waves” – Nayana Nair

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The thought of you
walking down to me
and speaking to me as if speaking to a child,
as if speaking to one with disability of understanding only your words.
It brings me to an ocean of receding waves and words
where we could have walked every morning,
we could have found a way to love our water bodies
without waiting for it become tears.

~~~
But you keep coming to me.
One step
~we could think of all names and fates we could have had instead~
Two step
~we could play a game of guessing the memories that ruined us for each other~
Almost near my shaking hands
asking me to stop.
To stop thinking of these painful scenarios
~painful?~
To stop ignoring the one who is asking his leave
~where?~

~~~

I wish I could no longer hear you voice.
I wish I stopped hurting.
I wish my stars would hurry up
and bring me the death they promised long ago.
~all along i thought it was you~

~~~

I wish I could continue this dream with someone else
and never notice the one who walks beside me
loves me too much to be you.

“Count the Roads” – Nayana Nair

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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.

“Out of Frame” – Nayana Nair

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My pictures are not about me
they are just replacable frames
filled with the skin I have shed
filled with people who have left
and with my smile that has changed
beyond recognition.
So I can’t help but look at them
and picture the happy life
this person must have had
when I know it is otherwise.
I have lost track of my memories
I have lost track of the reasons
for why I lived my life like that.
I have a fading list of afflictions
and its pain that I have learned
to live with or ignore.
As I age, I find
I can almost forget,
I can leave behind
whoever I was out of frame.

“My Liberation” – Nayana Nair

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The first half of my life
was spent following the lines drawn by other
and second half spent on searching and choosing
the people who will draw those lines for me.
My liberation didn’t come as a cloudburst
but only as shower.
It only came as the the control of smaller
insignificant parts of greater machinery of life
that continues to  ignore my wish and my will.

“Sidestep” – Nayana Nair

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The colors that have drained
from the dreams of people,
lie cluttered on the doorway
of their homes.
Everytime they try to leave
for something more practical
and more safe life, that they chose,
that awaits them everyday
and does not keep them worrying
about what all they can loose.
Everytime they step out,
even in hurry,
they sidestep that clutter.
Look at it from the corner of their eyes
and for a second their heart seems aware
of the frost that is killing it.
For a second the reasons for the
sleepless night and blank gazes is recalled.
But the limbs keep moving
to keep a distance from hopes
that never materialize.
On their way back home
they dread to see
the clutter of discarded dreams.
But they want to believe
that ignoring and forgetting it
becomes easier with time.
Although it never has.

“Recreate” – Nayana Nair

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They recreated his room
with reverence
to his life
and his passions.
Paid attention to each small details
that can bring back who he was.
They debated over whether he would have
had photos of certain people
in the room where he wrote
or better, have crumpled paper
that got stepped over.

bfl

But to be honest
they had no idea of who he was
whatever they recreated,
was not him.

bfl

Maybe his poems were just pieces of him
that he either rejoiced
or loathed.
I believe there must be parts of him
that he was not aware of,
parts of him that he never got to pen,
which he was too busy to ignore.
What if his life was not worth the show?
What if he could only be himself
outside that room?

“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.

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