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“Pay it off” – Nayana Nair

Most my life is about
standing at the edge with the others
and choosing whether to push them first
or giving up on myself, by throwing myself away.
And all my decisions have ended up
in wait for someone else to decide my fate.
Wait long enough to think we are friends
who are here watching the world set on the sun,
wait long enough to feel betrayed by the choice
I myself would have made
at some point.

***

But I think there may have been iterations
that I choose not to remember
where I was the one who severed my feelings for others
with series of selfish decision.
That is probably why
even when I fall
instead of feeling resentment,
I say to myself
“suffer a little more, pay it all off
that is all that is left too do now.”

“What I Remember(5)” – Nayana Nair

No it is not an escape anymore
because
it is not only me
who is into these addictions of milder kind.
All I want is what everyone already has.
Don’t worry these books and music I get high on
don’t alter my perception of reality
like they used to before.
So I am fine with irrelevant goals of
having one more book to read, one more page to fill up,
and some hours to sit and stare at screens of literature of a cruder form.
They may not constitute the real meaning of life.
But I have not seen anyone who is particularly worried
about missing the real point of life.

. . .   .   .     . 

I know this consumerism and media culture irritates you.
That I look like one of the thousands who sit and demand
to be entertained, to be fed with something other than
the reality of insufficient time and cash.
Would it make me more real, would your gaze become more softer
if I bring up a portion of my life where I was hurt by this world,
when the reality didn’t change just because of my disappointment in it.
That not everyone can be one with the nature and one with society,
when nature is far away from where we are locked,
when society is all about waiting for someone else
to mess up on a grander scale than us.
See that is what I don’t want to talk about.
It is depressing enough to live it.
We can either discuss about how I almost found friend in a fictional character,
found a mirror or even a window in another,
how I do not agree with most reviews,
how I couldn’t get the tragic end of the story out my head.

. . .   .   .     . 

I don’t mind sitting in front immaculate shows of lies
if that is where the my temporary relief of my life is hidden,
at least we are entitled to that much – relief.

“Well-being” – Nayana Nair

large

You ask after my well being
and I answer something along the lines
of what you have heard before,
an affirmation to the answer you want to hear.
You must have heard it enough times
to know it to be false.
You must have heard it enough times
to know that it doesn’t matter.
You have heard it enough
to realize that there is no point in asking
but we must keep up appearances.
Those who are drifting away
and those who are at shore
must act as if they can still see each other,
must act like humans who care deep inside.
And believe that caring deep inside is enough,
that being sad inside is fine.

“When you found my door…” – Nayana Nair

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When you found my door
I was in my workshop
in the middle of chiseling and crafting my memories
Now I am half made up and half real
and there is no point of opening this door
and forcing you to accept a half that you won’t like.

“Learn” – Nayana Nair

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I know
you are comfortable in your misery
to the point
that it doesn’t seem like fate
but choice
and your hands can have rest
from struggling
only if you think
you will choose this fate again.
But I also know the these resting hands
and this blinded mind are not you
and till you do not become what you are
you will always have this restlessness
that I have known all my life.
I would rather see you struggle and cry
because of the fate that doesn’t give in,
than to see you resigned and lifeless,
holding everything that you don’t want
believing that you would eventually
learn to want them.

“My Character” – Nayana Nair

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The crowd, every crowd-
they exhaust me
and frighten me.
They take away air around me
and tell me to leave myself at the door,
if I want to come in.
They like to stare a lot,
they like to condition my mind, my eyes to look away when they stare.
Is this the point
where I am supposed to sit down with a sigh
and tell a sad story-
about how I was wronged (isn’t everyone?),
how they never apologized,
how there was nothing to apologize for,
how people find it easier to support the one in wrong,
how it is easier to hate myself that to hate so many people.
The most painful but convenient words that I can tell myself-
“maybe they were right” “i took it too personally”.
How the result of telling someone all this
are more words like these-
“you are not the only one, it happens, it is normal”
“don’t make a big deal of it”.
Is there any end to what one must hear and suffer
just to give an explanation that people want so badly to hear
and are more desperate to brush off as weakness of my own character.

“Driving Towards Chaos” – Nayana Nair

m on dyke in fog P1150232 (1)

Now that we are past the point to be bothered
and entertained with petty things,
and have moved on to greater ambitions
or heavier slogans.
The more dense our propaganda become,
the more we argue over the future we envision
for people who we assume to be clueless
about the perils that live among them-
I start having doubts
and maybe this is where my unravelling starts.
At the face of doubts
that have nothing to do with what I do
or how world works,
but the suspicion that maybe I am as clueless
as anyone else.
And maybe our enthusiasm for a better world
is what is driving it towards chaos.
What if the our judgement is clouded by the same
but stronger demons
that we want to exorcise from this world.
What if we are driving around in dense fog
and not even realizing it.
Or have we decided to go for it anyway
and count the casualties only when our heads clears.

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