Neerja-

Neerja-

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For Neerja,

Their world was in flames,
An atmosphere- chaotic;
She marched to her own beats,
The sole voice of reason;
Dousing the flames,
At the cost of her own skin;
Engulfed by the embers,
So the children could be free.

Not all heroes wear capes,
Fancy attires,
With a wide fan base;
Some are disguised,
under apparent labels-
Daughter;
Friend;
stranger…
Neerja.


The above poem was inspired by “Neerja Bhanot”, a name familar to most indians. She was a pursuer for Pan Am flight, and lost her life while helping passengers escape the plane after it was hijacked.

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Life with him-

Life with him-

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Living with him was like swimming in a shark infested ocean and coming out alive. The constant fear of wondering if I would ever make it to the shore; getting there and experiencing relief which lasts only for a few seconds, because I know. No doubt about it, the next day would bring with it, another date with the ocean. The fear, the apprehension and the cycle continues… That was life with him.

Don’t you dare tell me I should have tried harder. There are not many people who would survive a day and I did; I gave it seven years of my life which I can never get back. Was it patience or helplessness? Love or foolishness?

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Mental Health Friday #4

Mental Health Friday #4

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Have you ever felt like you were at the end of your rope? You just couldn’t take it anymore. You didn’t want to talk to anyone, be around anyone, and even form your brain to think about anyone. All you could think about was the extreme feelings of sadness you felt about yourself and your life. You experienced something that brought you down soooo low, you never thought you would be able to come out of it. Two years ago that was me. With the death of my mother and the ending of my long term relationship; those thoughts ran through my mind every day and night.

Heart racing. Shortness of breath. Tears beginning to well up in my eyes. Body feeling numb…every 3 to 4 hours the cycle happens all over again. I lay there trying to control myself, counting back and forth from 1-50… “1..2..3..4..5…….50…49..48..47..46”, praying that I will soon fall back asleep. Crying my eyes out sometimes because I can’t. When I finally wake up in the morning, the feelings I have are no better. I don’t want to move. I don’t want to get up. This little voice in my head keeps telling me, “It’s not worth it. You’re just. Not. Worth. It.”

The moment when I realized that I believed that “little voice in my head”, is when I knew something was wrong with me. It wasn’t until one horrible day that I was forced to do something about it. The devil saw fit to ease his way in my thoughts and it went downhill from there. As I walked down Alcoa Road one Friday evening, I began to have thoughts that I’ve never had before. I was tired. Tired of crying, tired of hurting, tired of feeling alone. I started really thinking about the most painless way to end this all. Again, I. Was. Tired. My life was no longer important to me and I began to speak so much negativity over myself while devising a plan in my head. In the middle of all of that, I recieved a phone call from one of my sorority sisters. After ignoring the phone call 3 times I finally answered.

“Hello”
“Hey Bridge. What’s going on? Are you ok? I was just calling to check on you.”
“Yes, I’m fine”
“Bridge, you don’t sound fine. Are you ok?”
*hangs up phone*

I turned my phone off and cried my heart out for 15 minutes. Thoughts still pounding at my soul. Called her back and told her, “No. No, I’m not ok.” I ended up telling her everything that happened. All of the thoughts that were running through my head and how I felt inside. She told me to go to the doctor, but I refused. I worked at a psychiatric hospital and no one was about to call me crazy. I wasn’t having it. But after all of her begging and pleading I made an appointment and went to see the therapist and psychiatrist the next day. Read more

The girl who Lived-

The girl who Lived-

 

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And if I leave this world,
Tonight in my sleep;
Weep, but only a bit-
Then live out my dreams;
Share my words,
Exhale my stories;
Say to the world-
Here was a girl who lived.

She lived, she sought;
She spoke, she roared.

She dared to dream-
All odds, she beat;
She stood her feet,
Atop thick rifts.

And when the ground is holed,
My mother’s eyes are filled;
Hold her, tell her the story-
Of how her daughter lived.

originally written (2014)

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My star-

My star-

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There’s the sun in the sky,
A showstopper of it’s own runway,
Irrespective of the clouds.

There’s the moon at night,
A star amidst the stars around,
Unmatched in its might.

There are the trees and the
Exotic birds perched amongst them;
There’s the ocean with its waves  
Rising then falling like a rollercoaster play;

There are the mountains,
With their peaks decorated with snows,
There are the valleys,
With water beautifying their body,

And there’s You.
You gush about the universe ,
And the beauty it encompasses;
All I gush about is- You.
They are your stars,
You are my star.

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Priorities-

Priorities-

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You tell me you’re busy,
And I tell you its fine;
But the truth of the matter is
Maybe- I’m not worth your time.

You tell me not to worry,
Its the job that entails ;
While night turns to morning,
And your bed lays unslept.

You tell me you love me,
And “we”mean everything;
But your actions say other
Than the words which you speak.

But I tell you its okay,
And I say I understand;
For if this marriage doesn’t work,
It wont be cause I didn’t try.

So you tell me you’re busy,
And I say its alright;
But know, the day you’ll be free-
I might not be around…
Anymore.

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Hurting, Healing-

Hurting, Healing-

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It hurts…
But here’s the thing, I know I will get over it, just as you got over us. Slowly, then all at once. And when she asks, “why did daddy leave”. 
I’d say, “I don’t know baby, but he did”. And I will say it with conviction and without bitterness.

But today, I have no conviction and I am bitter, staring at the paper you had placed on our desk with the 7 letter words, words I never I thought I would see in our context.

And so, as she asks “where is daddy”, all I can do is hug her as tight as our bodies will allow, waiting for the day the anger, the hurt, the rejection dissipates. 

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The Last Time-

The Last Time-

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Was “I love you” the last you said to them,
Was “I hate you” the last you uttered,
Did you give them a hug with compassion,
Did your face reveal clear discontent.

Did you thank them for all they’d been doing,
Did you grumble for the chores they ordered,
Did you think they were harsh and unloving,
Did you think they were raising you right.

I love you wasn’t the last word I’d spoken,
I didn’t hug them when they walked out the door,
And I waited from dusk until morning,
It was too late- they never returned.

Today, is all that we are sure of,
Tomorrow is just a probability,
Gratitude shouldn’t wait another hour,
For tomorrow- who knows if we’ll be.

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Self-Love

Self-Love

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“But I love…”

Of course, we all love someone- mothers love their children, husbands love their wives, sisters love their brothers, some love their friends.

And how many of those love last when self love is not in the picture. You can love someone else true; but when you love all that is within yourself- the good, the flawed, the quirkiness; when you know what you’re worth, passing it on to someone else becomes so much more easier.

Once you accept your flaws, accepting that of others becomes a piece of cake….                 easier said than done- that, I also know.