The Coward..


I’ve given myself a new name today. Mr. Coward. A name which was always written on my forehead. A name which described the most private and the most obscure part of myself. For all the lies I’ve told and for all the promises that I’ve broken, if there is one word that describes me the most. I’d say Mr. Coward is the best of the best.

What do you do when you have something precious in your hands; ‘something’ so very precious that normally takes years of struggle and sacrifice to have ? You treasure it! You try to save it with all the might that you have. You nurture it like its your very own part of your body and soul. I had ‘something’ like that. ‘Something’ that I confided in. ‘Something’ which I gave all my heart to in my submission. Now, a normal person would try his best to hang on to this ‘something’. Forever. He would try in all his capacity to not let anyone or anything hurt that ‘something’ even in his dream. That’s not me. That’s only for a normal person. But, for a man who has lived his life in obscurity, for a man who always kept an infinite spectrum of his emotions to himself, this is not the same. When a heart becomes a locker for too many hidden things which were never brought out, it slowly looses it capacity to withhold anything new in it. You feel weak. You feel petrified even to entertain something to enter that heart. Yet, I gave the ‘something’ a chance. This ‘something’ was something that I had always yearned for. A hand to hold on to. A dream worth living for. And I must say, as much as a stone hearted ass I was, the ‘something’ dug its way into this stone. It spread to every corner of the stone. It literally kicked out all the memories of pain into their own perdition. Ecstasy ruled over me. I was happy. The old memories of pain though they left my heart, I knew, somewhere they were waiting to make their way in. Now, they are strong aren’t they. Not days or months, they were etched onto me for nearly 20 years of my life. They were strong enough to paralyze my heart temporarily to let themselves in. And thus began the memories’ quest for revenge. They took a new form of emotion. Namely the ‘Cowardice’. The new form, a baby, made its little steps into my heart. It stayed there feeding on the tons of happiness my little ‘something’ brought on to me. This cowardice being a parasite that it is, took away my ‘something’ before I could even realize it fully. It sucked the life out of me and my ‘something’. It grew fast. Like a fat, big and dangerous monster. It said , ‘ Hey you! you don’t deserve all this! you’ll loose it all someday’. Nah, this was just a panic attack. At least this was what I had thought it to be. I was wrong. This cowardice, the child of the freckled memories of my past took over my heart. It was ruling me so harshly, that it threatened me each and everyday of my life since it grew of age. It constantly rang ‘ you don’t deserve this, you suck!’. It made me lie. It made me break all my promises. It said run away from all this. It said, you fear the commitment. It said you’ll hurt everyone you love. Oh, it was all very overwhelming. So overwhelming, that I lost myself while all this was happening. I grew weak in my spine. I grew weak in my knees. I grew weak in my will to hang on to my ‘something’. I grew weak to be me. I left it out. I succumbed to my cowardice. I told myself that I am not fit for anything. I told myself that I cannot commit anything to anyone. So I ran. I ran away so far that no one can find me. I ran so hard that my pain in my legs overshadowed the pain in my heart. My cowardice made me run away from my promises. My cowardice changed my life into a living hell. Let me tell you something, even while I’m typing this, my cowardice is still dictating what all should I write, for there is so much that I’ve hidden from the people that I love that, revealing all of it now will hurt them more (Says my cowardice, not me! aye aye master).

Now I’m a no one. A man without anything to hold on to. A man with no purpose. A man depressed, repressed and sullen! A man who cannot promise anymore. A man who can never involve himself in any commitment. A man who is afraid even to make a new friend. A man who has his own world of emotions that will never see light. A man who has succumbed to vices. A man called, ‘The Coward’.

If the poorest man in the world is someone who doesn’t have anyone to whom he can bare his soul to, then I am that poorest man of the world. And bottoms up..!

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A disease called overthinking..


Does having a kind heart make you weak ? It certainly seems so. I’ve always been a person who overthinks a lot even for doing the minutest of the minute chores that we all do in our routine. But, let me tell you this overthinking is definitely not about how I will be impacted with anything that I do but its about how I might effect the others around me after I do it. This overthinking has forced me to make few sacrifices that I am not proud of. This overthinking often makes me do things that I don’t want to do a majority of times. Let me tell you that this is sometimes fucking hard. To restrict yourself from something that I want with all your heart for someone else’s happiness is no ordinary thing. Yet I do it, and this is just because I am built that way. Now, with all this going around, its at least humane that others share a tiny bit of your principles and understand why you do what you do. Even if people don’t appreciate what I am doing, its very basic for it to not make any statements that hurt me. But, nah! the world is pretty dumb in understanding what I do. It keeps hurling these sharp edged knives at me that constantly keep on hurting until I have bled that pain’s worth out. All these years, I’ve always thought that, the world may do this to me but maybe it does not mean any offence at all. As I’ve already mentioned in the start that I overthink a lot, may be this overthinking is a disease that the world is free of. Maybe its me that should learn from the world and not the other way around. I don’t know. I try to learn but I can by no means live that carefree and joyful life that others are living. I know I’m depressed, I know I am a loner yet I am a good person. Why should the world be that the way it is ? Why should it constantly keep pricking me with its deeds ? Should I change? Or will the world change ? Am I wrong or am I right ? Am I drunk ? Yes! But, booze is what that helps me think ? Err, overthink! I sometimes imagine how I’d be if I was like the rest if them ? How differently my life would have shaped up had I not made those sacrifices? Maybe I would have been happier ? But, maybe this happiness would have been at the expense of others’ pain. I don’t know. And bottoms up…

Do you still call me a house?


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Do you still call me a house ? 

I sure resemble like one.

I have the foundation and I have the shape.

I surely stand up strong and straight.

Yet, something is still missing.

Is it the roof ?

Oh yes, its destroyed.

Is it the walls ?

Indeed, they are hollow.

How about the windows ?

Phew! are you kidding me!

Each day I am scorched by the sun,

Some days I am drenched by the rain.

And on some, the wind seems to be harsh.

But, every day I am overwhelmed by my best buddy.

My pain.

My pain, to stand there just alone.

My pain, of living a purposeless life.

My pain, to not be able to shelter anyone.

My pain, to never give anyone a wee bit of happiness.

Yet, I have to stand.

I really don’t know why.

Maybe, I was destined to.

Maybe, I am forced to.

But, do I want to ?

I don’t know. 

Nevertheless, I am still a house.

I shall stand.

In a hope that someone would build those walls.

In a hope that my roof will be fixed.

But, deep inside, I know that I can never be a house.

 

The Man in the Sea..


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He was a helpless man drifting in the seas,

Thriving on ‘hope’ , to see the land and its trees.

Without any food nor any sleep,

All he could do was to sit down and weep.

Continue reading “The Man in the Sea..”

The Swollen Vocal Chords


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48 hours. It has been 48 effing hours that I spoke two full sentences. The problem – swollen vocal cords. I cannot utter a single word without going hoarse in the end. And what caused the problem ? Throat infection and of course my very bad drinking habits.

Absolute voice rest was suggested by my doctor and also a strict caution that I might loose my voice if I didn’t do so. But these 48 hours have been the most treacherous and yet at the same time the most well spent time that I had in a long time. 48 hours of self introspection, learning and of course with a few daily dosages of writhing pain deep in the heart ( not another medical condition though ).

Continue reading “The Swollen Vocal Chords”

My Dad, My Hero!


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He held my hand, he made me walk,

He taught me words and made me talk.

He was an angel, a hero in disguise

He showed me life, he made me wise.

 

He made he happy, he made me smile,

He never rated anything more and for that he walked that extra mile.

He never asked anything back from me,

He was unconditional, his love was always free.

 

He was hurting inside, he didn’t want me to leave,

He just bore a fake smile, he didn’t want me to grieve.

He couldn’t walk away, he couldn’t let me go,

He controlled himself, he never let anything show

 

He couldn’t stay like this, he couldn’t sleep at night,

He was waiting for my return, he kept praying to God to allow him my sight.

He wanted to talk to me, he hesitated to call,

He didn’t want to disturb, he continued to wrawl.

 

He never knew that I was coming back,

He was still waiting for me, unaware of my track.

He then saw me at his door, he suddenly froze,

He had tears in his eyes, all his lost spirits now arose.

 

He came running, he hugged me tight,

His wailing heart was now happy, he never again wanted to let me go not even slight .

He never knew my love for him, he never asked me for it,

He still always loved me and that’s how it seemed him fit.

He is my dad!

PS: If you are reading this please take a moment of your life to reflect upon everything that your parents have sacrificed for your happiness. No love is more purer that the love shown by your parents towards you and to acknowledge that is the least that we can do.

A lost addiction..


Its been ages that I have sat down to write ,

The dearest hobby that I had which made my every scary night very bright.

Each and every day I try to set the things right ,

But never found any solace ,not even slight.

What should I do to get my courage back,

Did I still have it in me to write and get back on track ?

Each and every second now started making a violent whack ,

Oh god, please spare me some light for the night is awfully black.

“Just stay calm!” ordered my aching heart,

That’s right I thought, thinking too much would only tear me apart,

All I needed was to get a proper start,

For, my rage never dies neither does my art.

My heart has now agreed to sign a pact,

That only if I write , it shall hold me intact,

Now my fears slowly started loosing their impact,

Oh god  just let me write, I have already lost in love and you have nothing left  in me to detract.