Desi Writers - Blog Posts

My brother never touches his cricket bat with his feet. It will anger the gods within it, he says. The goalkeeper of my football team kisses the goalpost before the beginning of a match, a silent prayer to the deity within. My sister never puts her paintbrushes on the floor and my father holds his stethoscope with unmatched devotion. You see, the gods are what you want them to be, where you want them to be. In your mother’s lap, in your best friend’s hug, in the coffee you are almost addicted to, in the equipments of the gym you love working out in or in the books you bought but will never read. The gods are wherever you want them to be. The gods are wherever you need them to be.

I gave you a love so vast it could have swallowed cities whole. I built galaxies in my chest just to make room for you, carved out pieces of my soul and called them home so you would never feel alone. I was there and offering, but you… you only ever loved the echo of me, the shadow I cast in your mind, not the woman who bled herself dry to be enough. You didn’t love me. You loved the idea of being loved by someone like me. And that was the slow undoing.

You were never really there, not when I shattered quietly in rooms we shared, not when I fell asleep hoping you would see me again, not just look at me. I held up the heavens for us while you watched, arms folded, eyes elsewhere. And still, I stayed. Still, I gave. Foolish, maybe. Devoted, definitely.

Now, that it’s all gone. I have crossed oceans of pain to reach a shore where your name doesn’t burn on my skin anymore. I am somewhere better, freer, lighter. And just when I have stitched myself together with gold thread and midnight prayers, you come back.

You come back with a whisper of apology, a handful of words you never had the courage to speak when I was drowning right in front of you. Why now? Why always after?

It is the cruel theater of time, isn’t it? The final act where ghosts knock at your door once you have already exorcised them. People see your worth only in absence, crave your presence only when it is no longer a gift they are entitled to. Love should never be a posthumous award.

And yet, here I am, haunted not by you, but by the echo of who I was when I loved you. And that is the deepest ache of all.

(Darjeeling’22)

He does not know, that the world pauses for him, breath held,

Watching the art of him falling, calling it beauty While he calls himself blank.

If only you knew, how spellbound I am for you, watching the chaos of you, turning into stillness,

Watching your sorrow as it knows how to make everything shine.

(Darjeeling’21)

The town still haunts me, laced in lullabies, Where kin became the keepers of my fall. Their words were nettles dressed in silver light, Their love; a gilded cage like a funeral hall.

They laughed like witches dancing in the fire, While I, the ember, begged to turn to smoke. I breathed in brimstone dressed as blooming thyme, and woke each day beneath a phantom yoke.

The darkness kissed me soft, and made me kin. And though I flee, it lingers in my breath, that hallowed place, where all my wounds begin.

(Darjeeling’2021)

“She falls, not like rain, nor like the weeping of skies, But in pirouettes; each flake… A whispered secret spun from the breath of stars.

How happy she looks, gilded in sunlight, blushing at the glances of children, stretching herself across fields… Like she’s always belonged.

Yet in her mirror, she sees only glass.

Not the frost laced wonder, not the shimmer in her descent,

But an absence; a definite pale ache…”

From surviving to generously falling in love with this city, I found love that I can finally gate keep.

July-December, Delhi’2024

I aspire to have it all—

The drive to create my own niche in this god forsaken city

But suddenly, I’ve realised that the simple joy of you playing with my hair is the only treasure I pray for.

That’s the only thing I will ever fight for.

“I really want to meet his mother and give her all my love and affection in return for the son she bought into this world. Thank you for bringing such a kind soul who knows how to treat a person generously. I love your son, unconditionally and vividly that I want to be next to him for all eternity. Your son is healing something that he did not break, in the first place. Thank you for bringing him into this world so that we could happen for this eternity. I truly want to treat the two of you beautifully.

Yours truly,

Sumedha.”

[In frame: A Gerbera Daisy and a plushie that beholds a very beautiful purpose. My chronic episodes of nightmare and anxious panic attacks have been keeping me awake for weeks now. Even after all the efforts he has done from his end to make me feel safe, nights have been hauntingly hard. He believes that his gift will help me sleep better as he won’t be there next to me every night. He gifted me this for a better sleep. I pray every woman in this planet ends up with a human like him. Every person deserves a human being like my man.]