She is a paradox: shy yet fierce.
She layers plethora of emotions under her skin,
Solitude is what she seeks in chaos
Yet, she gets scared of being left alone
She is a hard shell which she allows the world to see but not penetrate
But underneath is a storm which kindles
A storm which challenges what she pretends to be
And even then if she opens her locked up soul to you
Remember, she has found her home.
Ask her not to stay, you will hurt her fierce self
Let her fly and sail her way
For she won't tell you this but she fears to be home.
For home pulls her back
Home holds no judgement
Home lets her sink
And she wants to fight past her insecurities
Past everything that holds her back
And someday she will rise
And be comfortable in her own skin!
I am the eldest grandchild in my family. And being the eldest, I was pampered a great deal by my grandparents. My aama (grandma) and baa (grandpa) always shielded me from every possible dangers including thrashings from maa. I have pleasant memories of evening story sessions as grandpa took me to bed. Aama would oil my hair and tie pony tails which resembled coconut trees that I used to draw. Sundays meant elaborate sessions with my grandparents. Baa would trim my nails, aama would fondle me to sleep. Their bed room was literally my playing room, my story book reading room, my painting room and what not. With time, as I grew, I got a room of my own but their room was still my favourite one. When I left for hostel, I missed them more than I missed my parents. It was in the year 2014, I had come home after my exams when aama received a pressure stroke . She couldn't make it. I had spent a month as he lay sick on her bed. All of a sudden, there was a role reversal. I could
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