“To My Lover’s Ex”

I have seen you in some random pictures,

Some he posted back then.

And I don’t take a second to realise,

Why does he love you so much?

I know, you know him the way nobody does,

Not even me,

‘Cause I have heard stories about your love,

From him,

Felt the pain and love in his voice.

And I wonder, will he talk about me one day,

With someone.

Will there be spark and love in his eyes,

When he comes across a pic that he clicked with me.

Will he remember the small details about me

Like he does of yours.

I know he loves you like anything,

‘Cause I have seen him post stories about you,

Once in a while.

Never afraid of showing you off to people.

But, I never dreamt about,

Him showing me off.

I just want to be his private person,

Person he shares everything with,

Loves everything about.

And when sometimes he writes about love,

I know it is not for me,

Or about us.

It is for you,

About you.

And those two lines by him

Make me cry for days.

But, don’t worry,

I like you,

I also envy you,

But, I hold no grudges against you.

‘Cause I knew,

And I know,

Loving him came with acceptance.

And with no limits.

Sometimes, I wish you will visit him again,

Someday.

See and feel the dept of his love.

But, I am also afraid

That I’ll lose pieces of him that I have collected.

Unwanting Desire

It seems wrong, standing in front of him. But it still feels right.
In this enormous city of Surat; inside a vast building in a huge corridor, I find myself standing in front of Nisith.
Darkness accompanies us in the huge corridor.
All the girls and boys are in their bedrooms. Unaware.
It has been a ritual, to be by Sanchit’s side, understand and love him. Whereas, it has been a year’s wish to be by Nisith’s side. To wake up with his smell.
61 days and 22 hours. I have been away from Sanchit. Close to Nisith.
Now, Nisith is just two steps away. While, Sanchit is miles away, probably waiting for that single call that I had promised to make.
Those two steps turn into one and Nisith comes closer than I expected, while Sanchit moves further away from me.
Nisith looks into my eyes, as usual with a spark. It makes my heart ache; my legs shiver.
I want to escape. I long to meet Sanchit, but my body refuses to move.
Now there’s no gap between us, as he pushes me against the wall. He leans on me and tastes my lips. The same way Sanchit had done once, but with more care and love.
All of a sudden, my body unwants Nisith.
It feels wrong.
I push myself away from him, turn back and start running. I don’t know where I am heading. From whom I am trying to escape?
Maybe, my unwanted desire.
In all these years I wanted him. However, suddenly, his closeness doesn’t make me happy. It just leaves me with some tears. A lonely feeling altogether.
Sanchit told me not to be here, all alone with my friends. Especially, when Nisith is around. Argued for an hour about how insecure he feels. He had hugged me and cried, telling me how much he’ll miss me after I leave for Surat. And here I was in front of Nisith, too close to escape.
I rush into the washroom. Examine myself in the mirror. I can still feel his wetness on my lips.
It was an inevitable incident.
My unfaithfulness is an eternal truth.
The sudden buzz, in my pant’s pocket, brings me back to my senses. I pull the phone out, to only discover it’s Sanchit.
My hands have become numb. My brain isn’t responding.
Unwillingly. Hopelessly. I slide the green icon.
“Hi stupid! How are you doing? I’m missing you,” I hear his jolly voice.
The voice inside me forbids me from telling Sanchit my truth. It echoes in my head, telling me, he is miles away, he will never know what wrong I have done. However, my head feels heavy, keeping the truth from Sanchit. Simultaneously, my heart is scared to lose him.
I try to collect the words, but can’t find a single one. Once the girl who used to be the chatterbox in his presence, now has lost all the words, suddenly. My lips start quivering, the only words I find are, “Nisith and I kissed.”
There lies silence on the other end. Forever.

When!?

When society will cut apart,
Then marriage will not be duty,
Then wife will not be a servant,
Then child will belong to a mother,
Then his surname will not be hers,
Her identity her own.

When the hierarchy will break apart,
Then property will not only be given to son
But also to the daughter,
Then she will be paid for domestic work,
Then her husband will equally take care of the child.

Then love will be redefined,
Not a buying and selling game on Valentine’s Day,
Not Commercialization of love,
Being firm at a times,
Selfish many a times,
Not doing domestic work under the label of “love”
Not sacrifising her career under the label of “family”
Rather equal adjustment between two lovers to create a family.

By: pisesandhya747@gmail.com

What if?

What if?
The love laws were not defined by,
You or me.

What if?
The mere incident of seeing you,
Would have never occurred.

What if?
The incident would have never
turned into an interaction,
And an interaction into an action.
Action of embrace, care, love, affection.

And somewhere, I feel,
If those what ifs would have never occurred, I would have never happened to be me.

The Shadow!

White floor and white bed sheet.

She sucks the cigar, with her brown lips. The smoke fills her chest, she feels it occupying her lungs, her body. Her brain. She holds it inside her, like it belongs with her. She can’t hold it for long, she doesn’t want to. It escapes from her nose, her mouth. Giving her a cold shiver. Making her think about her brain, the things it holds, that actually don’t belong with her. Like the cigar smoke.

The half moon under her eyes doesn’t tell a lot about her. Maybe she had less sleep, maybe more. But, who knew her high imagination for her small brain to bare. She can feel shadows. She can hear voices. She talks with ones who aren’t a part of this World. She feels these dark shadows staring at her with their sharp black eyes. She spends her night sleeping beside the person who can be felt, who can be seen, but only by her.
She has this vicious feeling of escaping like the smoke. Just vanishing somewhere, where she can’t see these shadows, away from their sight.

Dark eyes, dark shadows didn’t belong with her. Like the cigar smoke.

By: pisesandhya747@gmail.com

The Fraud

@inspired_by_amalia

When she stops,
respecting,
caring,
Putting forward you before herself.
Note that a fraud has been conducted.
Fraud of underestimating her,
disrespecting her,
Not considering her opinion,
A fraud that doesn’t count as fraud,
for you.
When the fraud is conducted,
She is done,
for good.

By:pisesandhya747@gmail.com

Her Unseen World

@mirsuhail

She was going to be born.
She was going to see her father.
But,
she did not know the atrocities of the world.

She did not know, she was born to die.

It was her mistake,
to be born in the “Paradise on Earth”
To feel the breeze,
with a metallic smell.

But she needed to be born,
to see the shades of red blood,
on white snow.
To see the saffron colour flags,
covering the beautiful green trees.
To see humans with camouflage clothing.

She has to be born to see her mother wail,
to see her father
dead.

By: pisesandhya747@gmail.com

The Clean Little Bitch

At the corner of the terrace, she reveals her real self.
The thoughts accumulated in her brain erode, with each puff that she releases.
She sucks another puff of smoke with her finest lips.
Until she realises that she has to return to her hyspocritic world.
She encounters her family with the generous smile. All loyal. As perfect as she pretends to be.

Love Can Be Delusional

@inspired_by_amalia

She cursed her ill-fate for not destining them.
And she counted stars during the day, believing that night was a delusion.
When we tried explaining that the delusion was not the night but her love.
She explained us back, with here jumbled thoughts and metaphoric language, that we are paranoid. We need help.

By: pisesandhya747@gmail.com

The One Nightstand

https://instagram.com/dhanashreepimputkar?igshid=8t0nqxkts9gw

It has been months since he left. Now my body craves his gentle touch.

Out of resentment, I go through my contact list. And text the most obvious one, “Let’s have a one night stand.”

All of a sudden, subconsciously, I go through my gallery, slowly. I measure the length of his smile. Try feeling the outline of his jaws. Imagine biting his unmoving muscles. And stare at the wrinkles on his forehead. Now, the guilt seizes me.

It embarrrasses me, how at first the idea entered my mind, but once conceived, haunts me for days.

I crave embrace of his rough hands. I want him to be mine.

But once left, never needed back.

The thick darkness occupies me. And I embrace my legs kindly with my gentle hands.