Let Go

Let go,

Let go of the old loves that never happened,

Let go of the promises that the new love will never fulfill.

Let go of the witch’s curse and snarky words that you never got to say.

Let go of friendships that don’t feel the same even though you haven’t changed and neither have they.

Let go,

Let go of dreams that never came true,

Let go of beautiful places that you never got to see.

Let go of stories that you never got to say.

Let go of kindness that never got returned.

Let go,

Let go of words almost forgotten and falling flowers that will never come back.

Let go of stories only half-finished and an imagination that won’t fill in the gaps.

Let go of thoughts that never got formed.

Let go of frustrations that make you guilty and are not really there.

Let go,

Let go of children’s tales and tales you thought might be yours.

Let go of the person you used to be.

Let go of the person you thought you might be.

Let go of everything that isn't the future.

Let go,

Because they may come to pass yet again,

Because worry won’t bring you closer to it,

Because while you can still taste it on your tongue you can’t move on, just yet.

Because, letting go might be just what you need.

Just let it go.

Jack and Jill

Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water,
Jack fell down and broke his crown and Jill came tumbling after!

It’s the song my mother sings to me every morning. I don’t like it much; it gave me an eerie feeling. I used to joke that she needs to update her song list. She just smiled and replied “it’s a special song; it reminds me of my greatest victory.”

Grandmother has been living with us for the past few weeks, I asked her about mother’s obsession with the rhyme, it seemed to distress grandma, and she said she wasn’t sure, mother had been singing it since she was a child.

A few days later I was watching a movie based on the tragic separation of twins- a brother and sister, the beginning was quite happy but I saw my grandma’s eyes widen at the screen and leave quietly. I followed her out and asked her about what had happened. She looked at me and seemed to make up her mind about something, “I’m assuming your mother has never told you about your Uncle Sam?” I shook my head in surprise. “He is, or rather he was your mother’s twin, he passed away in an accident when they were just twelve years old” I wanted to know everything about him and she also must have wanted to talk about him because for the next one hour she spoke about her beloved lost son. He and my mother had been very close; she was very protective of him. He was at his happiest at the time, he was going to boarding school, his life was just beginning but then the accident happened. I couldn’t get Grandma to talk about his death; I guess it was too painful.

I couldn’t help but wonder why mother had never told me about him. I finally asked her one night, she looked shaken; she simply got up and walked off. I think I heard her have an argument with Grandma later that night. I was hurt. What about this did she feel she needed to keep a secret from me? Mother and I were always close but after father’s death five years ago she has become my best friend. She was my greatest confidante so why did I suddenly feel like she was hiding things from me?

I am leaving for University in a few days; I think this is why grandma has come to live with us. I’m so grateful to her. I used to worry about how mother would get by without me. She is so protective of me, she worries all day long, and I don’t think she’s very comfortable with the idea of me leaving. I know grandma will help mother adjust to our new situation. Last night mother and I started bridging all these gaps that had appeared in our relationship. We went to our favourite Mexican restaurant and over quesadillas and nachos mother finally opened up to me about everything. She was scared I was leaving but she had accepted it. She told me that I will never ever leave her heart, just like Uncle Sam never has.  He used to love to hear her sing, just like me! She sings for him every day, maybe she would sing for me too! I couldn’t help but thinking that my mother is the best!

Tomorrow my life beings anew, University, new classes and friends I can barely contain my excitement. Grandma has gone to my aunt’s house and tonight, one last time, I’m alone with mother. She’s singing “Jack and Jill…” again.
“Mama, what is this victory you always talk about?”

“Oh! I sing this song for your Uncle Sam”
She has been talking more and more about him these days, maybe she is finally being able to think of him with some happiness.
“Was the victory you won…something over Uncle Sam?”
“Yes it was, and now he can never leave my side and this song has everything to do with it!”
I’m getting excited “What song will you sing for me when I go away?”
“Ring around the roses, pocketful of poses, ashes ashes we all fall down, Baby you loved playing to this rhyme when you were young. You will always be a baby for me. I will never let you leave me, my thoughts I mean”.
I beam at her; no one will love me like my mother does.
“Come Baby, put your head in my lap, and let me put you to sleep, one last time.”
I go gladly, and as she fusses over me and tucks me in, I can’t help but stare at her. I remember dad’s words- her heart is as big as her. He loved teasing her about her big frame. I’ve always thought she loves with all her heart. I can feel her love tonight!
She’s singing “Ring around the roses” to me, I’m drifting to sleep, I don’t even realise when her hands creep onto my neck and start pressing too hard. I struggle. My eyes are imploring her to stop. “Baby I can’t let you leave me. You will be at peace after this; just like your Uncle Sam was, after I pushed him down the hill. We would not have been able to bear being apart, this way he never had to go to that horrid boarding school, don’t you see? Even you needn't go to college. You can stay with mama forever”.

By Radha Agarwal

You're alone

You’re going to be alone forever. There is nobody in the world – hear me out- nobody who will be able to understand you completely,nobody who will see eye to eye with you on all matters.

We all have that one favourite book,song,movie,painting. Something that strikes a chord within us. Since I’m a book person,I’ll relate it to books. Think of your favourite book. You know those special lines, the one which make your heart feel complete,the ones you relate to so well that you want to show someone. You get that nagging in your head. Somebody NEEDS to know how you feel and how well its been put across here!

Nobody will understand. Even if you do manage to get someone to read it, all you’re going to get in return is a blank look or a quizzical look asking “so?” or at best a hollow “wow that’s nice”

You’ll want to scream at them, cry out “why hasn’t this impacted you profoundly? Why such an underreaction? This what I’ve just shown you holds one of the keys to my existence. It deserves more from you.”

But you can’t make them feel something they just….don’t.

You’re alone.

Nobody is going to know all about you- every little lane of life you’ve walked through,every thought or feeling you have about people, why certain things make you react a certain way, why you find some people so hard to trust. Nobody is going to know the inside workings of your mind-why you obsess over a drink just because it reminds you of a certain boy, what every reference or personal joke means actually, why you want to appear a certain way in front of some people, what demons have pursued you all your life, why are you pushing everyone away, why do you suddenly need to get away from everything?

You’re alone

There will never be one person who’ll walk in with the solution. Even if it feels like there is, you’ll discover soon enough that you’ve been kidding yourself. Nobody will have a mind that mirrors yours. Nobody will come in magically as the “soulmate” we all aspire to find. Someone perfectly like that does not exist. You have GOT to stop believing in the fairytale that you’re going to find somebody with the answers to every question you have,the same excited smile and spark in eyes you have when something touches you, the urge to navigate the inner reaches of your mind and stay despite everything they find. To quote Mean Girls “Stop trying to make it happen. Its not going to happen”

You’re alone.

The faster you accept it and make peace with it, the easier it will be to cope. It will stop you from dying a little every time you’re misunderstood. Trust me, you’ll have saved yourself a lot of disappointment.

Peace

By Nirmitee Mehta

The Words Must be Free

 Sometimes there comes a time when you just want to write, really write, not think, not perfect it, just write something and show it off. That is how I feel just now, except I don't have words, I'm waiting for them, those words, I know they are there somewhere at the back of mind, somewhere in my heart. Those words will get out! I'll make sure they do, somehow this block has to go! Old words inspire new ones and they make me want to write so bad so the words need to come out. They'll grow slowly and be absolutely beautiful, they just need to be nurtured, they need to be given time and then they'll be perfect they'll be there. I want to spread my wings and I want to fly and these words help me fly. They help me become free.So I will write now. Often and every two days. So the words can be free.
Come lets make a new world, let passion carry us forward! Let them touch all our hearts and burn down to the soul. Let them express anything and everything, our thoughts, our nonsense, just us, because, these words make us eternal. 
- Radha Agarwal

Being a toughie

“I’m tough” she told him. “Why don’t you believe me?” and was answered by a horrid patronizing laugh which translated into-“A little girly midget like you? Tough? Dafuq are you saying?”

Whenever any of us hears the word tough, we automatically imagine somebody tall with a muscular build. Someone with a no nonsense look on their face and a steely glint in their eyes, ready to set anyone who dares to mess with them in their place. Someone with a deep voice, wearing ripped jeans or leather. Maybe a couple of tattoos and piercings added for good measure. Stereotypical, isn’t it? Don’t you think being tough isn’t all of that? It is a lot more than just being confined to that definition.

It is smiling, being chirpy and not showing any sign of distress despite having had a harrowing day where everything went wrong.

It is getting that steely edge in your voice and demeanor when you are firm in the fact that you won’t take nonsense from anyone or let them manipulate you.

It is taking time to be by yourself so you do not go crazy and lose control of your emotions, hurting people in the process

It is not letting bullies or baseless rumors get to you but sticking around with your head held up high, showing no sign of worry to the world. It is confronting every obstacle in your way head on and not shying away.

It is about conforming to only your ideals about what’s right and not doing something just because the people around you are.

It is about saying no, and saying it as many times as it takes until people finally get your point.

It is about going through with the responsibilities assigned to you without any intention of skiving off just because you can.
It is pouring your soul out into your art and then keeping it on display even when it might be invaded by negativity.

It is marching up to someone and saying, “Can we talk?” after a big fight because you don’t want awkwardness to remain there any longer.

It is being silly and not being afraid to show it.

It is about knowing in your mind that somebody is worth it, worth getting close to despite being warned against it.

It is being so fiercely loyal that you cannot stand to hear a word against your friends, even by other friends.

It is not letting your fears get ahead of you- Going into the kitchen even when you get a cut or burn whenever you do and making yourself like it; thrusting yourself forward in class discussions and projects because you’ve never been there and now you feel an obligation to do in order to evolve as a person and not paying heed to the teacher’s pet reputation you earn along with it.

And most importantly, it is never losing your essence, your soul.

Here’s to being a tough cookie.

By Nirmitee Mehta

Your love

When you  fall in love, do so in a crazy, incomplete, brilliant sort of way!

Like nothing else matters, and then make it into something special. The way I love you, its unfair, its so different from the way I love family, friends, work and passion, I don't know if I love you more, but I do know I love you differently. 

When you're there I want so much more from my life, to make it a little more worthy of you, I'd want to fill it in more, achieve all my dreams and fill as much sunshine as I can into it.. I'll glow brighter so my light fills your life too. Without you, I won't give up because its not what you'd want from me but it would just not mean anything,I'd see every colour in shades of grey!
You colour my every imperfection brighter. I'd forgive your every mistake just so you can make another. Maybe we are too young but you know I'd stand by you through almost anything. You're my strength, till you're there I'll remain standing. I hope I can keep this promise, I hope nothing that destiny throws towards us is so dark that I cannot bear it. I hope you're here so we can grow old together. So I can see you succeed. So I can see your smile everyday. Your smile. Your laughter. Your eyes! You know your my light, without you I'd be lost. I would have never found my way through the fog that had overtaken my spirit. My smile, that was long gone.You found me! My eyes twinkled brightest when I was with you. They still do.

They say we are the cutest couple, I say we fit. You steal my heart with every obnoxious self obsessed monologue. You're words echo in my mind. I remember every time, ever day you've told me I'm pretty. Every time you've  said I love you my heart breathes in a sigh of relief. I still can't believe your mine. I still, can't believe you're mine! I'll remember every walk down the memory lane, that day in the rains, that day I danced in your arms, every conversation, and  touch. I'll remember how you taught me to love more than I thought I ever could. I'll remember how you made me feel like most amazing person on earth. You make every other crush inconsequential. You're my baby, my sweetheart, my quirido, mon ami and the simplest most precious, my love.

Someday I hope the daydream comes true. Someday I hope I'll find you! <3

By Radha Agarwal

What it takes

She revisited that place tonight. Its been months since she was last there, but it feels like she's never left at all because she instantly feels safe and at home there. And then again it could have been years because she's changed so much and so has her life, its hard to remember the person she used to be in minute detail. The hopes, dreams and wishes dissipated with time. It was here that she had said farewell to the fancies of the young her before she stepped onto the threshold of adulthood. Back then she'd been craving something real in life. Living it in her mind in theory was something she'd had enough of. Her heart craved something that would turn the beautiful candy floss that her thoughts were made up of into something more than an illusion-give a more believable base to them.
Today she wishes she'd never looked beyond what she had then. Dissatisfied though she was, she'd been happy in her soul. She still believed in believing, in love, in happy endings, in the fluttering of hearts, of your heart feeling bigger than yourself, in having true feelings towards someone. It was these beliefs that had been her driving force-the sparkle in her eyes, beauty in her life, blush in her cheeks, dance of her limbs.
Right now, right here, that illusion and that she is shattering-it has been for quite some time now, like a glass wall hit by a car in a hurry. So it was with her, she'd been in too much of a hurry for the experiences that she settled for less and in turn got heavily disillusioned.
Every single time that she came here in the almost forgotten age, she'd write letters addressed to nobody in particular, each weaving a tale of her world, incorporating every whim, fantasy, dream, hope, belief. Its to find them that she's returned today, clinging to the last strand of hope which tells her that on reading those letters, some semblance of the lost her will be rediscovered. She scrambles over to the spot next to the willow tree where she'd kept them imprisoned, hidden from the world. Her hands start digging the soil, getting dirt underneath her carefully tended nails, which she does not pay heed to. Its the least of her worries now. One hand pushes back the long hair streaming into her face as the other, clenched in a fist against her heart tries to control its thud as she desperately wishes for the wooden casket enclosing them to remain. She feels a flash of joy as her hand hits wood and the familiar dark brown box with the tiny butterfly carvings appears before her. Her anticipation grows as she opens it and sees the small pile of colored folded sheets of paper. But as she picks one up, this changes into a feeling of dread. Her throat suddenly goes dry and her eyes well up with tears which without notice give way, blurring the words on paper. She can't bear it-her former happiness and optimism might make her feel more alone and lost than ever. What will she do if the largest piece of herself outside her body fails to have the desired impact and instead appears shallow to her? How much will that break her? Will there be anything at all be left after that? No. She can't make herself take this great a risk.
She now stands up, still holding the letters, dusts soil off her knees and skirt and walks into the water until she is calf deep in seawater and then holds them out in her hands till the wind blows them away, depositing them onto the surface of water where they float. Now her dreams are free to take whichever form they want. Now they are unencumbered. All of herself will come back to her when it wants to-when she is ready for it. Though this is not what she'd come here for today, she is more relieved and at peace than she's been for a long time.

By Nirmitee Mehta