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Books and Poetry

Books and Poetry

by Aditya Mankad 0 Comments

I come from a bomb shelter
made with a lining of books.
I come from a place where
metaphors are served
for breakfast.
I come from a house where people
would run to save a shelf
in case of a disaster.
I come from a place where
we weep to pages instead of
pillows.
I come from a childhood where
words melted in my mouth more
often than cotton candy.
I come from a place where we
popped verses like sleeping pills
on a tough night;
Religiously and a little too many.
So don’t ask how I turned to poetry.
How could I not?

Hold it!
Gold fishes - Artwork by Gajesh Mitkari

Hold it!

Hold it like Hodor.
Never let your guard down.
Speak nothing.
Like a broken mixtape on repeat that plays just one song;
incidentally, the only song that reminds you of your dead lover;
just keep on chanting:
“I am okay”.

Hold it like Aerys,
Pull out the swords stuck in your
stone of a heart;
Make a throne of those swords, sit on it.
Give orders to burn all the memories that remind you of her
with the wildfire.
Be called the mad king.

Hold it like Gollum.
Take the one thing you loved,
and let it drive you to madness.
Find pieces of your heart in a
thing that reminds you of her
and let it be the end of you.
Smile while you fall.

Hold it like Thor.
Make it your pride.
Make it your necessity.
Let the universe know
that you both are meant to be.
Lose it.
Fail to live without it,
but also fail to die.

Hold it like “the one who can’t be named”
Be convinced that she is yours to keep.
Spread parts of you in search of her.
Find out that you were wrong all along.
Stand in front of a dementor.
See it make a fool of itself
as it tries to suck all the happiness out of you.
There’s none left.

Hold it inside like a fish bowl
with no water and dead fishes.
Be the reason of doom of the
one thing that was supposed to
be your purpose to exist.

Exist.

Artwork by Gajesh Mitkari
Of Rain and Tea Stalls

Of Rain and Tea Stalls

by Aditya Mankad 0 Comments

If you stare long enough
at the bokeh of car lights,
you will see how insignificant
time is.

And yet here we are counting everything
in seconds and minutes and years,
trying to grab everything we can
with two paper hands.
(and it’s pouring outside)

 

If you stare long enough
at the trails of rain drops,
you will see how insignificant
a place is.

And yet here we are putting labels on our
luggage about the places we have been
and the places we will go just in
search of a home.
(and we are nomads)

 

If you stare long enough
in my eyes,
you will see how I carry
the rain and lights in them.

And here I am,
trying to defy what
rains and lights do
when you stare at them
long enough – disappear.
(and I am not even strong)

 

Featured Art by Aditi Shastry (@ekcup.chai)
Image captured by Shubhangi Pandey (@shubhangipandey27)

 

On a rainy day – Murakami

On a rainy day – Murakami

Maybe on a rainy day
If the sun decides to shine,
Don’t act surprised. Play along.
As if it is a ritual for over a hundred years,
(You’re 20 but you are an old soul too)
open your rucksack – pluck that copy of Norwegian Wood.
Page 317, line no 9
“I wonder what ants do on rainy days?” Midori asked.
“No idea,” I said. “They’re hard workers, so they probably spend the day cleaning house or stock-taking.”
As the sun breaks through the clouds,
but fails to reach your insides; smile.
It has been too long that they have believed it can fix you.
It can’t. Only you can.
Stock happiness in bits and pieces,
books and vinyls,
coffee and cotton candy
for rainy days like these.

I think the anatomy of my brain cells
is like that of the skeleton of ants.
Ants can lift 10 times their own weight.
My brain cells carry anxiety on its back and take it for long walks on rainy days.
So if on one of these walks,
the sun decides to shine,
Smile.

But if it doesn’t,
Don’t worry.
The sun might not
brighten your soul
but the rain will
wash your sorrows away.

 

The prompt was "Maybe on a rainy day if the sun decides to shine" given by Aishwarya Bhatt.
If you want a custom poem typed on a typewriter; submit a prompt by clicking here
Disaster

Disaster

In case of a forest fire,
People are taught to turn away are run.
Run till the glimmer of destruction
looks like a beacon of hope.

In case of an earthquake,
People are taught to find open fields;
lie down and sleep till the shaking ground
feels like a forgotten lullaby.

I have known love,
like I have known disaster.

So, in case of a heartbreak,
I run.
As far as I can.
As fast as I can.
Till all I can see is a beacon.
Till all I can feel is the humming of a lullaby.

And I land in a forest.
Pre-disaster.

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