A.V

 आप जानते हो, हम इतने अजीब और ज़्यादा सवाल क्यों पूछते हैं? शायद हम मतलबी हैं... कौन जाने किसका बुलावा कब आ जाए। शायद इसलिए हम आपसे सब कुछ सीख लेना चाहते हैं, ताकि बाद में कोई अफ़सोस न रहे। हम नहीं चाहते कि आप चले जाएं, और हम कभी जान ही न पाएं कि मम्मी और पापा कैसे शख़्स थे। शायद इसलिए बार-बार पूछ लेते हैं, और खुद को तैयार करते रहते हैं उस दिन के लिए जब आप नहीं होंगे। ये सब मामा, ताई जी, और परिवार को देख कर सीखा है। दिल... कभी कठोर नहीं हुआ, पर आँखें अब ग़म की ख़ूबसूरती देखना सीख गई हैं, और दिमाग... ग़म से उभरना। हमें अभी तक बात रखना अच्छे से नहीं आता, परिवारि निभा पाएंगे या नहीं, पता नहीं। (शायद पत्नी अच्छी होगी तो शायद निभा जाए।) आप लोग भी ज़्यादा उम्मीद मत रखो, और अपनी ज़िंदगी बिंदास हो कर जियो। जो हो रहा है, होने दो, ज़िंदगी बहुत छोटी है यार छोटी-छोटी बात की चिंता करने के लिए। (हाँ मम्मी, ये आप ही के लिए कह रहा हूँ।) तभी शायद हर अलविदा, दिल भर के होनी चाहिए, क्योंकि कौन जानता है, कौन-सी रुख़्सत आख़िरी हो। 21 फ़रवरी – आज काफ़ी दिनों बाद पापा की कमी महसूस हुई। त्योहार, सालगिरह, ज...

नाना, नमस्ते। कैसे हो? दर्द ज़्यादा होता है अब? सब लोग यहाँ उदास बैठे हैं, शायद इसलिए कह नहीं पा रहे, पर... अब तो आप मज़े करो जितने भी दिन, महीने या साल बचे हैं, उन्हें अपने अधूरे ख़्वाब पूरे करने में बिताओ। कोई जगह जहाँ जाने का मन हो? जाओ। कोई बात जो कहनी हो? कह दो। बचपन का कोई अधूरा प्यार, नानी के अलावा अगर मिलने का मन करे, तो मिल लेना। पुराने दोस्त जो अभी भी ज़िंदा हैं, उनसे भी दो बातें कर लेना। और हाँ अगर अंतिम समय में पता चला कि कुछ अधूरा रह गया, तो सच कहूँ, हम आपको माफ़ नहीं करेंगे। आप तो चले जाओगे भगवान जी के पास, पर हमें यहाँ छोड़ जाओगे... रोते-रोते। और हाँ, इन बच्चों को भी समझा देना: "जैसे भी जाएँगे, अच्छे से जाएँगे। खुशी-खुशी जाएँगे। और तुम लोग ज़्यादा उदास हुए न, तो देखना, डराने भी आएँगे!" बाकी, इस क़ीमती समय का आनंद लीजिए हवा का सनसनाहट, सूरज की धूप की गर्माहट, घर की चहल-पहल, गुलाब की मीठी खुशबू, कड़क अदरक वाली चाय का स्वाद, और इस चलते हुए समय की खूबसूरती। आख़िर में हर समय अच्छा ही होता है, ना? बस नज़रिए की ही तो बात होती है ना? मौत के आसपास भी कितने प्यारे पल होत...

As exam closses in does you heart races? Yes How's study going on then? Not good How long have you been saying that? Been a while When is it going to get better? Dont know Do you think you can crack NEET? ... Dont know ... Hmmm, it weighs heavy, the burden of people's words. What shall I do? Throw away this phone, and just loose yourself. Forget people. No matter what happens, at least have no regrets. ... Hmmm....

"My mother died a few days ago..." You can cry no need to hold back. Let those feelings flow. Soon, you too will understand That with time, things do get better. For now, don’t hold back... Let them flow, And soon, you will learn to accept them. The flashbacks will trouble you for life, But after some time, they become manageable. "Why are you smiling such a gental smile?" Cause I know, how the path is like, after losing someone, and I guess, in embrasing the loss I have learnt to see the beauty in it.  A.V

"Vinay, Nana ki report le aana!" Mother shouted from the other room. I got the report, glanced over it, and saw the word malignant. Things were bad, but I didn’t know they were this bad— Not until I read it in detail at home. Malignant lung cancer. Spread to the 4th and 5th ribs, the pulmonary artery. At 70, with a weak body, the doctors would probably recommend a mix of chemotherapy, surgery, and maybe radiation. If he survives— And oh, how I dearly hope he does— His body will endure unimaginable pain. Mother asks, "What did the report say?" "Spreading cancer," is all I say. I hide the details. I am no doctor, to tell and carry the weight of those words. Soon, Mama arrives for the report. My MBBS cousin looks at it and says it’s Stage 4. I know how people become. I know what they feel. I have felt it. I have lived through it. I have seen Death. The disease is not in my immediate family, But those I hold dear will hurt. Why, mind, why? Why do you feel s...

We never really interacted in person. We grew together, but seprated  The friend group split as soon as it was formed— COVID was the reason. Then, in the blink of an eye, 11th came. Classes divided, And our conversations, once alive in chat, Fell silent. Even now, we’re growing, trying to keep this little group alive. And yet, as we grow, so dose my Insecurity. I don’t know how to tell stories, How to put a smile on someone’s face. I’m just Brother Boring— The one who listens, The one who gets awkward, A side character standing in the background. Maybe that’s why it grows, this feeling, Because I’ve seen you with others— Laughing, goofing off, Snapping pictures, And I know how you feel. Yes, we had a strange past. But that doesn’t trouble me. I don’t think I’ll ever send this to you. But if you find it, You don’t have to say or do anything. Just live freely, dear soul. And when your wings feel heavy, I’ll always be here to listen. A.V

Eyes filled with sleep, Mind too dozing down, Cold eating away my feet. The monotonous life of study— Even that has stopped. Finding motivation, Spending days wondering, Wasting life, Wasting youth. These colors of youth have shown me many things. From love drama to fights, From euphoric moments to flooding nostalgia. From self-hate to self-love, Then back to self-hate. From the long days of boredom to the fleeting feeling of time. From relying on others to doing everything alone. A.V

Aap theek ho mosi? Aap theek ho na? Aap ka shareer theek hai na? (A voice overflowing with care) Aap acchi ho na mosi? Aap theek ho na? Paccka? Phir kyu apke shabd sun ke humari maiya ke aakho mai assu a jate hai? Phir kyu mai logo sai apke bare mai acchi km buri baate jada sunta hu? Kyu Hume lagta hai ki Hume apko sahi karna hoga? Kyu hume lagta hai ye sab bolke apke mn mai humare liye bas krodh aur gridhna, utpann hogi? Phir kyu kabhi kabhi apke shabd aur apka laheza bilkul pasand nahi aata hume? Kyu nana nai apko tokna bandh kar diya hai? Kyu unhone apko theek karna bandh kar diya hai? Kyu mosi? Kyu? (And tears fall) A.V

Tired, I retreated to the stairs, seeking a moment of solitude. Instead, I found a crowd of strangers. Yet amidst them, one face stood out—inviting and familiar. Socializing has never been my strength, especially when I’m immersed in study. It felt awkward at first, but there was something in the air. Ma’am, too, seemed to have her own thoughts waiting to spill out. She looked into my eyes—eyes of people I usually avoid meeting—she said _"If there’s anything, you can always talk to me."_ It was a simple gesture, yet it reminded me of something: I’m still just a child. I’m 18, but not yet an adult. Somewhere along the way, I’ve forgotten how to smile, truly smile, with a sparkle in my eyes. What I thought would be a casual moment turned out to be unexpectedly serious, peeling back layers of reflection I hadn’t anticipated. The white wings I once wore so freely have turned grey over the months—but perhaps that’s for the better. Growth comes with change, even if it feels heavy s...

 Sometimes I wish that all my thoughts could be logged automatically somehow. It would make a great book and take much less effort. Then I suppose all my secrets and lies would be shown to the world, and how cowardly I am. It's a thought that only comes when I can't write down the poem or thought I am weaving in my mind. I am a hypocrite. Even though I don't like lies, I deceive like a sly fox to avoid situations I despise. I guess I have been quite skilled at avoiding things, like when guests come. I lower my gaze, wear a gentle smile, and speak only select words. Rarely do I see people eye to eye—they live in my periphery. Cowardly enough, I don't even make prolonged eye contact with my parents. I am not the domestic type; I am the type to be left alone on a mountaintop, in a wooden shack I call home, with no one close by. I fear my own future. I wonder if I'll be able to manage family matters. I hate surprises and humans, though for humans, I think the hate comes...

Caught a cold, and even though I have a stuffy nose, mild cough, Strained eyes, and an aching brain, This moment heals me. Have taken the meds, Again I sit at my desk, In a dimly lit room, With Lofi songs filling the air, Hugging my tender shawl, I study in a cosy atmosphere. Away from screens and stimuli, This moment heals me, just like sleep. A.V

 I am eighteen—yet no adult, Aren’t they supposed to be responsible? Kind, composed, steady hands that build? Then what am I doing? Skipping classes, dodging exams, Eleventh-grade syllabus complete. Yet the lectures sit untouched, Questions unanswered. Only four months remain. I feel left behind, Like a small child crying quietly, Choking on his own inabilities— Drenched in envy, craving something more. Lost and blind, hiding from sight, Isolated, a shadow in my own home. Not even family truly knows me, And friends feel like strangers. Only I remain— Alone with dusty books, Whispers of dreams that never speak back. A.V

Dear Me, If you ever find yourself losing control, losing yourself, falling into the depths. If you ever feel hopeless, distant, or away from others... Stand up. Take a warm, long shower. Brush your teeth. Clean the dusty tables, sweep the floors, tidy up the room. Wash your clothes, clear the trash, make the bed. Wipe the stained mirrors, dust off the books. Drink some water— you must be thirsty. You’re hungry right Don’t worry. Wear the outfit you’ve always wanted to wear but never did. Dress yourself well. Take the keys, step outside, and ride. Feel the rhythm of your heart fighting off the cold wind. Let the movement remind you—you’re alive. Feel your body being alive.  Stop at a dosa shop. Find a seat. order your heart out, without hesitation. Look around. Watch the people, living their lives, laughing, talking. Smell the rich air filled with spices. Hear the sizzle of batter on the pan. Don’t hold back—I know your mouth is watering. Your order arrives. The dosa glistens with ...

I don’t know why, but I know how I feel. It feels as if— I’ve returned home, after a long adventure, full of ups and downs, with whispers of nostalgia. To my little paradise in the mountains, where birds chirp, and the air sings, wrapped in the quiet relief of home. As if I’ve finally bathed after a weary journey, as if I hold a dear hand close, as if I’m lulled by the lazy sloth of a warm afternoon. Perhaps it’s the weather, this gentle blame I place— but I wish, at life’s end, to be engulfed once more by this same tender embrace. A.V

Fluffy clothes now softly sway, Fog descends, a silver gray. The wind grows crisp, a chilly tune, While the sun’s allure begins to bloom. Heavy quilts on warm beds lie, Shielding dreams beneath the sky. A breath of frost fills lungs with chill, The heart ignites, alive with thrill. Upon my two-wheeler, I glide, Cold air strikes, yet warmth resides. The sun’s embrace, a gentle balm, A fleeting moment, pure and calm. A.V