Story of Every Night 

Too uncomfortable, twisting and turning 

It’s cold, but don’t want to be wrapped in the quilt, too restless 

The pillow seems too plush, punch it once trying to make it easy 

Turn left, take off socks, and take out one leg 

Put socks back on, but the angle is not okay. 

Getting back in the quilt, you turn again. 

Tuck your hand under your chubby cheek 

Thoughts fly to the neglected workout schedule, waves of guilt burn the sleepless mind 

Oh the bother of it all, throw the pillow on the floor 

And watch a movie till morning. 


Climbing the gates and watching the bare backs of cows nestled in the corners 

Imagining the stars and the moon at night in bed while being too terrified to peep out of the window 

Eating till the tummy is full and yet not telling mom for the food was a treat!

Obsession over junkfood, splitting into equal halves, joys of sibling rivalries 

To be a child in a home which no longer exists, I long for the days gone by 

It’s an ache in my heart to know, to accept its lost 

But in memory 

Tonight, as flashbacks visited me, I wasn’t prepared 

Filled with anguish of what was, what could’ve been, there is a sense of loss in me 

Something transient, irretrievable. 


If only I could voice these words I so fervently type away

If only I could just say, say it all

Sum it up in a formal speech or just a bunch of slang words

I would.

I would say it all, I would say how deeply I feel

And not be ashamed of it.

I would say how vulnerable you make me feel and I would not be afraid of it

I live on the surface, nothing deep about me

My life is made up of words, I have no voice

Its a silent movie, with a subtitle.


Earphones plugged in, my cocoon is ready

Slipping into my boots and coat, setting off

The chilly wind, crossing the layers and to my bones

Shivering, I go on.

A length uninterrupted now, a turn there.

One step after another

Music in my head, in my cocoon

Cut off from the world, I do not see but I am miles away from where I walk.

Along the dingy paths, we crossed while coming where we have come so far, I turn my gaze to the walls and the rooftops above and find a little girl peeping through a cross patterned net curtain, looking down at us so I smiled not knowing who she is for she was a little girl maybe bored of her text books or her tiny doll or maybe she didn’t have a doll.

Moving on, I turned another turn and another and I did not stop

In my mind, I had just begun but the pain in my feet said otherwise

Weak body, this cage.

Further down the road, I saw a marketplace with fruits and chocolates and flowers and vendors shouting with hagglers whom I couldn’t see or hear for my sense were reserved for the delicate dolls lined in the shop reminding me of the little girl peering down from the curtained window.

The little girl was real but I am alone

There is no ‘we’, is there?

Turning around, its just me. Walking.

Having come a long way, I just sit on the side of the road

Its raining, I see thunder in the sky

A war breaks out, in hapless situation

I cry.

Would you tell me the way home or do I just sit or wander?

Caught in cross fire, all I think about is the crossing pattern of the net curtain.