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“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.

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“Stories about me” – Nayana Nair

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There have been numerous accounts
of my failing life
and the reasons of my silence.
And these stories never cease to surprise me.
From time to time
I find the people in my life
have had a story about me
all along
that even I was not aware of.
Their uncalled kindness
and their uncalled cruelty
all had an explanation.
Explanations that had nothing to do with me.
In everyone’s heart their is someone by my name.
They have put me in colors
when I always was in grays.
I find
I never had a friend.
And I find them lonely
just like me,
when I look at the people
I have colored myself.

“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.

“River” – Nayana Nair

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Rivers of people
crowded the alleys of my mind.
Every thought of mine
had to go through them.
And they were relentless.
By the time it made through them,
it was not the same.
That beautiful new born thought
had turned into a old stranger.
I learned one thing
that I can never have a thought
or an action
that is truly my own.
And even when the building and the skies
of my mind decay,
the people in those alleys will live on.

“Can there be a me?” – Nayana Nair

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Can there be a me
in future,
who wouldn’t second guess the
genuinety of people and relations.
Who wouldn’t live on scarpes of leftover love.
Who would sigh less, and smile better.
Who doesn’t wake up to relive
every sadness till date.
Whose time is not trapped and wasted
on crumpled papers.
I hope there is.
Cause I have lived too long like this
and though I thought
I could do this forever,
but now I am tired.
Today, just want to go to sleep
and wake up somewhere else,
as someone else.

“Against the proof of experiences” – Nayana Nair

girl-alone

There is nothing more confusing
than the love of people who
never really known you.
Who have always been caring
without being affected.

bfl

There is nothing more heart-breaking
than to doubt the intention
of people who actually take an effort.

bfl

There is nothing more difficult
to trust someone against the proof of experiences
for reason as small as a smile.
To be thankful, without being bitter.

bfl

“Undone” – Nayana Nair

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The world drips down.
One drop at time.
Dragging and blurring
the colors
that marks the edges
that separate all of us.
A drop too heavy,
a drop too light.
And as it splatters
into smaller drops.

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My love and my peace
are droplets fallen far apart.
My happiness and my people,
my dreams and my courage,
exist in different planes,
different moments
confusing me
of what I am,
of what should I choose to be.

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And there falls another drop
and someone else
also gets to know,
what it means to be undone
and scattered.
And how beautiful it was
that a droplet of you pain
fell on my droplet of love.
How beautiful,
that a new world was colored
in the drops of the one destroyed.

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