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“Home” – Nayana Nair

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I will give you a list houses
that once used to be my home
and addresses that are the only memory
that has not been blurred
or manipulated by my mind.
If you ever want to find me,
go there.

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You will see the line of trees that
framed my sunrise
and almost dry riversbeds of
round white stones, where
I slipped once (or more).
You will see the duststorms,
and the heavy rains
I stood in.
You will see the the intersections,
I could never quite cross.
But all this you see,
is not me.

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If you want to find the ‘me’,
‘me’ that I do not know of,
that I cannot give you,
go there.
And look for windows I sat by.
Look for the cold floor I lied on.
Sit there and think of a girl
who never felt quite like a person,
who could look at what lay ahead
and know
that neither the path, nor the journey was hers.
Who only wanted a room flooded with
gentle light of drowning sun,
and songs that could make her sadness beautiful.

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“Knock” – Nayana Nair

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My life is divided into different rooms
as is my heart.
For as long as I remember,
from the time I used to care for decorations
to the time I am too lazy to clean up.
From the moments of sweet solitude by the window
to the clinking glasses and winking eyes.
The room belonged more to them
than to me.

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And I often found it unsettling,
as if on a night
when I would be hiding under covers
not knowing what to fear,
someone would knock at the door
and with that knock, would come a pair of shoes
and a set of clothes, holding a person
whose face, motive or aim
would soon be inconsequential.

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And slowly she would drag me
out of each room,
snatching away each memory that she touched,
knocking down my bookcases filled with my escape,
tearing away the wallpapers
behind which I hid my unvoiced cries.
The doors would be shut on my face,
leaving me out in a storm on a moonless night,
leaving me alone to face all that I didn’t know of
taking away all that I know.

Windows

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“You turn a corner. There are the windows you never belonged behind. There, where it always was, is the sky.”

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“Reading Larkin”, James Richardson

“See for yourself” – Nayana Nair

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Last night I saw her
lying by that tree,
as she slowly bled.
Though I am sure she saw me
looking out from my window,
she didn’t ask for help.
Her stare was enough
to remind me of boundaries
of her life and her choice,
that I as a stranger,
I as her love
cannot cross.

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See for yourself.
Look how the ground
looks doubtful,
whether to soak or spew the blood
that is trying to find a new home.
Come and see for yourself
how I died here,
not knowing it was me.
How like always
I was a bit too late
to decide what it was
that I really wanted.

“Orange Light” – Nayana Nair

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Some nights
the pillow is too fluffy.
Some nights
the pillow is too hard.
And I have no option
but to stay awake
and look at the
orange light of streetlamp
outside my window.
It is not the pillow,
nor the light
that keeps me awake.
It is just the side effect
of trying too hard
to be something.

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Some nights
I am too much.
Some nights
I am not enough.
And I have no option
but to stay awake
and look at the
light of fate
out of my control.

Galip’s Dream – Nayana Nair

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I dreamt of Galip’s dream,

He dreamt of  sitting by a blue haired girl on a bus.

I dreamt of what he saw.

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He looks at her sitting alone by the window.

He doesn’t wonder why her hair is blue.

He doesn’t ask why is she so beautiful.

He doesn’t wonder why she she alone,

at midnight boarding empty buses.

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He sits and looks at her.

And imagines the people who see her everyday.

He looks at her eyes that look at

everything in the world as if she owns it.

That looked at everyone as if they are hers.

He wonders do these people know how fortunate they are

to be at receiving end of her smile.

He knows (as I know) why

she caught his eye.

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She looks exactly as she is.

She is something he could never be.

Something I could never be.

Galip and me, both are caught in the storm of her being

And we forget what we are.

And it is bliss.

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