A.V

  Slept at 3 AM. In the last 65 hours, only 3 hours of sleep. Woke up at 12:30 PM. Mind still hazy. Eyes were hurting last night, almost asking to be closed, yet the mind didn't want sleep. I tried laying down, but the heart was uneasy. Been cold to friends and family in the past few days. Is this insomnia? Mind's tired, body too, yet sleep doesn't come. Even when it does, I refuse to fall. I can't handle the silence in this room. I fill it up with songs I don't want to listen to, podcasts I play in the background some comforting, some just to fill the space. Mostly Hermitcraft. Or anime. Or dramas. Been loving the series I recently started, The First Frost. I love watching how the female lead perfectly portrays how an INFJ lives the small bits, the silence, the feelings of self-worth, the coldness, the softness, the calmness. All of it. I find myself in it. Why don't I sleep? Maybe instead of wasting time trying to fall asleep, I can do something. Or maybe I ju...

I am cold, even after wearing these layers  I am cold. The night's young; the moon's full, breeze stealing past me robbing me of any warmth  that this heart  could provide. Numbness takes over, it doesn't hurt,  doesn't ache. Like a companion  it settles beside me, and I don't mind it.  There's a familiarity to this cold, that hugs me, and somehow, this feels home.  Depressed songs accompany me. The body walks, moving on its own. I see, blobs of light streak past,  people blur in a distance.  Soon I reach the place; walls protect from the wind. I place an order, One masala Dosa. I watch them teaching their child, while they Prep my order.  A smile creeps across my face.  A shiver runs down the spine. The heart warms up from this sight, soon my order comes. My numb fingers remember warmth. The Dosa, fills me  And for a moment,   the world returns A.V

We agreed to walk alone now   But MY body did not sign that treaty. You engraved your fingerprints   over every inch of my skin.   No soap lifts them.   No alcohol burns them away. Perhaps I will have to deskin myself   just to forget. My body conditioned now to fall into YOUR arms   over every small thing. You whisper in my ear, warm My heart, a thing that just melts melts as your breath lingers close to me. Being away from you,   Aches. I flinch when someone touches me   not because it hurts   But because it isn’t YOU. My skin remembers   how you traced its curves,   How easily I became yours. Maybe  I never wanted to unlearn you.   Maybe  I just wanted to learn myself  without you. A.V 

What can I say? It’s just that I’ve never been the kind of person someone would willingly befriend. Never the kind someone would choose as family. Too silent, too fake, too far away from the warmth other people breathe in routine. A face always half-turned, eyes never steady, a presence thinning the longer one looks. I am envy wrapped in flesh, swallowing promises I never learned to keep, shrinking into corners whenever life demands spine. Not brave for others, not thoughtful enough to consider a world beyond the echo of my own mind. Out of sight, out of mind  even for myself. I don’t chase people. I don’t even walk toward them. The love others trade so easily  messy, sharp, loud, alive  I was not built for that kind of proximity. I stand behind the line, in the shadows, with frozen feet and a throat that remembers silence better than speech. Worthless, the kind of worthless that doesn’t even try. Who would bother loving something that won’t mov...

आज किसी अंजान के साथ बैठा हूँ। वो दुल्हन बनी है, और मैं दुल्हा। बस एक महीना हुआ है एक दूसरे को जानें। लाल चुन्नी  के नीचे उसका चेहरा आधा छुपा हुआ, जैसे कोई प्रार्थना अधूरी। मैं सोचता हूँ क्या ये कन्या मेरे घर की आग संभाल पाएगी? चूल्हे की गर्माहट, रसोइयों की खामोश राजनीति, मेरी माँ का तीखापन, मेरी बहन की चिढ़चिढ़ाहट, मेरे पिता कि चुप्पी और मेरा अपनापन  क्या सब समझ पाएगी? पर ज़बान चुप है। आँखों में सिर्फ संकोच  है । आज, सबसे प्रिय सखी के साथ बैठा हूँ। वो राधे बनी है, और हम उनके कृष्ण। दस साल का परिचय, दस साल का साथ। उसकी हँसी का सुर, उसके रूठने का रंग, उसकी आँखों कि  हल्की  सी  चमक सब का सब याद है। घूँघट के पीछे भी उसकी आँखें मुझे ढूँढ़ लेती हैं। हम दोनों को पता है ये शादी मंडप से नहीं, सांस से जुड़ी है। मैं सोचता हूँ क्या ये लड़की समझेगी मेरी आदतें, मेरी ख़ामोशी, मेरी थकान, मेरी ज़िम्मेदारियाँ? प्यार की उम्मीद नहीं। पर दोस्ती भी होगी कि नहीं ये भी निश्चित नहीं। दोनों के हाथों में एक दूसरे के रंग की कमी है। सब रस्में हो रही हैं, बस हम दो लोग रस्मों से कटरा रह...

It has been a while. We live afar. But today the distance feels carnivorous. This longing sits inside my ribs like something tearing, slow and deliberate, refusing to loosen. I miss the weight of you resting against me, the way your body shaped mine into something whole. I miss your hair brushing my skin, soft, careless, unaware of how easily it undid me. Your hands. Your breath. The quiet shifts in you that I felt as if they were mine. I miss kissing your tired forehead, your still hands, the warmth you carried long after leaving. I miss the lavender in your hair, how it clung to my clothes long after you left, a small reminder of what the air used to feel like. What rivals being near you? Not the warmth of a winter sun, nor the hush of a soft shawl, not butterflies in sunlight or the tender scent of a rose. Nothing held in these hands measures against you. Now the distance cuts clean. My chest feels hollow in the shape you once filled. I do not want my body to forget the ...

I saw someone today. She was wearing a dark red kurti with golden trims. A loose braid hung from her small shoulders. A silver bracelet rested on her left hand. A tiny bindi sat between her brows, small yet unmistakably present. Light blue pants. Silver earrings catching whatever light the room offered. Her lips matched the kurti. Perhaps her lipstick felt grace from her lips. Green Crocs on her feet. Somehow, they softened her entire presence. She sat quietly, as if waiting for someone. Her eyes were steady, fixed somewhere far ahead. Occasionally, she exhaled, long and slow, her gaze dropping to the floor. Tired, probably. She seemed delicate in that specific way where a few gentle words could make her eyes glisten. Someone who would hide everything behind a small, practised smile. She yawned once, wide, bored. The whole class was, to be fair A.V

STATUS: Impairment Detected CONFUSION: 87 percent BRAIN FOG: Critical COGNITIVE LOAD: Rising CLEARANCE: Not achieved VISION: Online INTERPRETATION: Faulty SELF-WORTH METRIC: Zeroed ENVY SIGNAL: High SUPPRESSED PROBLEMS: Re-emerging ENTITY FLAG: Devils detected TOUCH RESPONSE: Wither effect triggered NOISE THRESHOLD: Exceeded OVERLOAD: Confirmed DESCENT: Initiated DEPTH: Increasing LIGHT LEVEL: Minimal STABILITY: Lost HEALING PROTOCOL: Not ready RECOVERY TIME: Undefined A.V

“To the mornings that never rush enough" Often, for several or sometimes no reason at all, I leave for class at 9:30. Even when the class starts at 9:30. And though it’s barely a kilometer away, it takes me fifteen minutes to reach. Phir kya, as my footsteps find rhythm and the wind brushes past, the green around me begins to hum, and my mind drifts, writing its own stories, a playful smile tugging at my face. As I would reach, I would peek inside the door. “Ma’aaaam, mai aa jaau?” She would looks up to say.  “Kaha se aa rahe ho?” “Ghar se,” I grin. “Aur kis se aaye?” Her eyes narrow slightly. “Gyaarah number gaadi.” “Kya?” “Chal ke, ma’am.” The smile doesn’t leave my lips. “Phir itna late kyu?” “Pata nahi, ma’am. Kaisa dimag hai mera, do mahine ho gaye, phir bhi samajhta nahi ghar se kab nikalna hai.” She laughs, shaking her head. “Accha, aisa hai?” “Haan ji. Aur jab late hota hoon, toh sochta hoon bunk kar lu. Par phir lagta hai, ma’am ka pyara sa chehra dekhne mil j...

The car rumbles softly, the slow hum of tires sinking into the road. Pine trees pass by as we sway from side to side, following the winding spine of the mountains. It’s cold, but the sun is out so it’s okay. Now and then, a small house slips past. A sudden burst of color catches my eye wild and brief against all the green. Cows wander freely, owning the single lane road. The roadside glows with the lime of new leaves, glistening under the sun: katana camara, floss flowers, carrot grass. 1,700 meters above sea level. I look down. The mountains are carved into steps and roads, half-hidden by a thin white mist  I can’t tell if it’s natural, or the afterglow of Diwali smoke. After rushing from city to city these past few days, even a few hours of this quiet feel like home. A home not made of bricks, but of the presence of those close by. It’s been a while since the mountains have felt me. Green signs flicker past, curves lined with steel guardrails. Electric poles descend t...

Hi there, Lilly It’s been a little while Did you miss me? You thought you buried me, risky. But you know I don’t stay gone, I linger, I slither, I wait in the periphery. Lilly, aren’t you pleased to see me? It’s been weeks since we spoke, bro. I know you need me. Go away. I have no need of you. You only bring destruction to a life I am trying to rebuild. I have no place for you here. Ooo, look at you, lamb with no shepherd, wandering circles, lost, untethered. Mind like a maze you can’t remember, heart like coal gone cold in December. I’m learning, slowly. I’m trying to redo my life, to piece it back together. You think. You plan. But you never act. Too afraid. Too small. Dreams so tall, reality so flat. Look at you, child, grounded, broken wings, grey-eyed, staring at skies you’ll never touch. But I will. This time I will. I have motivation now. Support. People. I even achieved something recently. Doesn’t that count for once? Achieved? You? Don’t make me laugh. Never a ste...

Log humse puchte hai, Apko kabhi ishk hua hai? Main kehta hoon, Hum ishk, mahobat, ulfat, yai sab nahi karte hai. Hum pream karte hai, Wo nahi jiska rang gulab sa surkh laal ho, Ya jismein ho dard, par muskaan ka taal ho, Par wo jiska rang badalo sa safeed ho, Wo jo sardiyo mai ek garam razaai sa ho. Humara pream kisi ko bandhna nahi chahata, Kisi ko apna banane ki ichcha nahi rakhta. Wo pream jismein sneha, anuragh, aur vatsalya saath ho, Jismein phoolon ki pankhadiyon si komalta ho, Sardiyo ke sure ka santosh ho, Thodi shaam ke raagho si aalass ho, Chhote baccho si shaitaniyaan ho. Hum pream karte hai, Wo hai na, Jo humare Kanhaiya, Radha Rani se karte hai. Bilkul wahi wala. Toh, Aap batayein, aap kya karte hai? Ishk, mahobat, ulfat? Ya phir pream? A.V

The pyre is ready. The sky is overcast. The body lies on top. Two bullet wounds. A boy, eight years old, steps forward. His hands shake around the torch. He lights his father’s body. He saw him die. Shot in front of his eyes. His mother collapses. The family gathers what remains of themselves. The ritual ends. We walk back through fields of rice, surrounded by green. Clouds break open, thunder claps. Rain falls heavy and slow just as the flashback hits the mind. Each drop presses the earth closer to our feet. The sky cries into my hair, down my cheeks, into my clothes. People scramble to hide their phones, but I stand still, letting the water have me. Is this a Kairos? It feels like one, with the rain striking at such a moment. I am eighteen, a callow being, still learning what moments matter. We reach his home. Everyone sits solemnly in unison, in silence as rain pours. It soaks us completely, until the sorrow thins only slightly, but enough to stand again. We all rise a m...

Fans blasting air. Paper in my hand, A heavy bag hanging from my shoulders. It’s a hospital. The stench of Lizol, Dettol, and medicine lays still. I see shoes of all kinds, Sizes from smallest to adult. Some formal corporate leather, Some in casual Crocs. Cutesy shoes occasionally show up, Some that would fit better at a party. The sandals of aunties speak a similar vibe. Interns and doctors in all black Among them, a few in khaki uniform. A lot of bathroom slippers, Yet all are filled with a silent restlessness. No one stays still for more than a minute, Tapping the floor as if that would shorten the wait. It’s early. The doctor hasn’t arrived. Yet still, there remains a long line In front of their office. I took a spot. Soon the doctor arrived. Eyes lit up, Minds filled with a little dose of dopamine. The line moved slow. People tailing each other close, An uncle babbling behind me in a language I don’t understand. My turn comes. Her voice calm, the same as with the other...