Skip to main content

Who cares right?

Another morning without you by my side,
Another silent night slips by.
And in between days and months and rolling years,
I struggle between what to hold and what to let go.
When did things go dim ?
When did I stop listening my heart ring?
Well, enough of those blame games
Enough of towering promises
All in the sand, all in the sea; I see it pass.
Yet, did I cease existing?
Who cares right?
I was existing like the smog that blinds,
Like the whirl of a tempest yet calm from outside.
But, who cares right?
All that they wanted to know was how bad it felt
Was it a filthy sore or could my heart still melt
Between what remain unasked and what remained unsaid
I tore my heart open and she saw how it bled,
But no more did she felt the pain.
No more did it matter.
She had nothing to listen I had everything to tell
Well, but who cares right?
As long as I act smart and fool the world,
I would be left to my own.
So, I decided to turn the rules of the game.
I sew my heart, it no more bled.
I gulped my pain and the world had nothing to gain.
But you see, I didn't even care to find, "who cares?"
All that it mattered was I cared and I still do.
I wrote my rules, I fixed the game
As long as I play it, I win even when I fail.
No more do mornings depress me,
No more does the darkness of the night suffocate me
I am more myself than I ever was
I am more happy to wear my own skin.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Life on wheels

The one thing that I always had dreamt of as a kid was to have a caravan that could take me to places.I always wanted a gypsy styled life. The idea itself mesmerized me to the extent that I kept dreaming of it the whole time not even realising how it was time which kept on rolling but I stood exactly at the same place, my dreams could never concretize. What was laughed at as a childish game was so important to me that I keep doodling it in my memory till now. I see a meadow, lush green with those small daffodils growing by, perhaps Wordsworth's daffodils! Then I see a girl, her wild unkept hair sailing in the gentle breeze. She has a smile which speaks of solitude, and her heart , well that's swelling with happiness as he looks at her caravan, after all she finally has a life on wheels. What more could she wish for, what more  can anyone wish for? It's not always that we get to live a life we conceived as a kid, life keeps on deciding our track. From what we liked doing
2 comments
Read more

Grandpa and me

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
2 comments
Read more

What do you want to be?

While I was in my 10th standard, almost everyone I met wanted to know what I wanted to be. This question always perplexed me. From the lens of a fifteen year kid who was not yet sure of the changes which awaited in the near future, this question gave me nightmares. I would constantly sit by the mirror and ask myself, what actually would be my answer. My friends always had fancy answers at their disposal. They would confidently chirp whenever any one asked about it. What amused me most was, my friend who had no inkling to study Biology wanted to be a doctor and another friend who detested the idea of even cooking noodles, wanted to be a chef! But whenever they spoke about their wishes, they would always sound confident. And there I was, fumbling for words which refused to escape my lips. It was not until I entered Jawahar Navodaya Vidyalaya to do my plus two, I found my voice. The teachers there have a different way of viewing life. For the first time, I no longer felt the classroom
2 comments
Read more