Senses

There is a subtle smell of serenity here

In the air

Above crowds

Above miscommunication

And above my immediate need

For pee

My grandma had this smell

So my maa

Every time she visits her place

She brings papaya

My favorite leafy greens

And this particular smell

I think it originates from here

Here where my brother were created

And so do I

A killing joke

And a good laugh

Those days of black and white mirage

This air has a particular colour too

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Selfish

The emotional roller coaster of two selfish heart is of bitter yet best memories we have created, or did we? Maybe not. What memories we have? Of carbon monoxide and selfish understanding. It isn’t even a roller coaster for them too, just me cooking stories in head. And finding closure in it, closure isn’t always there I guess or it is there before we start.

I think it goes both ways, being selfish.

I think I waited, for them to talk, and they waved by scared. The emotional insecurity is like a virus, it kills everything. I understand, those moments when we can’t face the very exact person we want to. I understand when we open our mouth but no words come and we avoid it from happening again. I understand thats selfish too. Like me, waiting for them to talk knowing deep down they are running scared.

And its fine I guess, being selfish, pushing people away who understands you, who will in need gives you no words but a home you don’t even know how long can you stay. It’s okay to have fear of losing people, and like me, its okay to lose them too. The selfish perfectionist, I can die alone, as living, living if we see its mostly not telling how we feel, how much we miss or want each other, and how we could have said everything, stayed in each others. This life, it must have a closure.

I wouldn’t apologize for being selfish, as we all are. But a sorry for clarity was important, Not falling for the norms of society, Life was too short for not opening the doors before Emptying houses. Some other homeless mind can rest for a night in need when we are gone, when I am gone. With a closure.

Tuesday repeats

I am sorry

That I think of us

In days like these

As no memories to come

Cherish the old ones

And in process

I keep getting answers

Hidden in plain sight

I never wanted to see.

In paracetamols

For sisters

In hourless fights

With their friends

In my waiting

And numerous phone calls

In “coming”

In absence from my fever

Depression and needs

In ignorance from my words

Knowingly how deep it was

In two lines of goodbye

It “was” a true bond,

But nothing exist.

How small my existence was

In process of my endless good moments

To people I have cared without limits

That none waited

Not hours but few minutes

None tried

Not hard not even a little

For in plain sight

It was

As “coming”

I have been told

I was never a bond

But a liability

I am sorry I still keep us

As good memories

And good friends

Some day I won’t

Few Tuesday later

I will be far away

Emptying all the details

In words I have missed

In pain I deserved

And in new memories

Yet to make

Till then

Another Tuesday away from…..

Friends?

Tuesday

I think I have rehearsed

Knowing the answer

Or the possible end of the conversation never happened

I wanted to talk about

How everytime it rains

Its never the same

The amount of drops

The cloud

Its weight

The 9th drop of the rain

Never hits the same place

Neither the 34,5703217th drop

Touched my shoulder

This time

Or that time

No it will never happen again

Neither our conversation

It came early

Or late enough

You found your shelter next to the 34th speed breaker

And you stopped

Whenever it rained

It didn’t matter

As I knew the possible outcome

Of those dark clouds

It sometimes doesn’t rain

Anyway.

Priorities

Almost a week now, the solid pain in my chest is getting harder, it won’t go the tranquility told me so. But will not be soft anymore. There are moments when I let my brother down, unwillingly, there were moments I did it as I was a kid back then, but now, this now did I not know it will go like this? I did? Day one when it went bad, I cried like hell, for desire took troll and I couldn’t visit the place of my brothers rest. I knew my brother wasn’t there, but his emptiness.

Day two when things went wrong and Already decided I won’t ever go there, as people won’t understand, people wont listen to it, the tightness inside my heart, they won’t know the loss of home, they won’t know the lose of love, for love is different for humans, and love, for us was beyond place and existence. For my brother, he is keeping me alive, and he will call me one day, and I won’t leave a single thing behind.

I think I tried hard enough, not to cry, not to brag, the little walk I had, away from humans of tomorrow, I came back of their wordly worries, I might be lost, or the noodles were getting cold. Who knows. I think I sat there for half an hour when I wanted to run away, look for my brother, or just go home, or just kill my self, cry out loud. I didn’t.

As it would be over dramatic for them.

It was already.

Seven days later after wasting my one single holiday per week, I learned it in a hard way, waiting for them, for half an hours for a smoke, it was already a overdramatised act for them.

My brother, the lump in my throat, I wanted to say something. But before I could my week off was over as the five min smoke was over, and they head back to their safe haven.

I stayed, with the punch breaking my bones never can be fixed for it was me, who let my brother down. I stayed alone, for rest of days, for this week, unable to say anything or do, just hugging my brothers picture and crying. Finally reaching out for words, an eulogy to humans I gave priorities, a good bye to those plastic happy moments I have shared, as they would not know I was never happy.

As no one will know or I have to let them know, how much we did love each other, me and my brother. For that’s okay, that the lump stayed. My brother stayed.

And so did Khoka, he came as I stepped out from the place I never belonged, he stayed and asked all, never mocking the death of my brother.

– death, death of priorities were necessary.

Don’t make any sense of it

After spending 25 years

6 month 8 days

And 2hours 5 min

I realised heaven is real

As heaven doesn’t exist

If you know what I mean

And you have spent

Exactly 34 years

10 month 16 days

21 hours 8 min

You know we will see each other

In somewhere in between

Blueberry paper clips

And borrowed cheese cake punctuations

-happy birthday to me.

Ordinary

In times like this

When days are bright

And nights are dark

Time which is supposed to be

In times like this

Burn a Roman Empire

In hell fire

And build a ship

For escape the north

Find the castle

Hidden underground

A lonely flower

Of ice cream flavor

Shaped like gluttony waits

To be placed

In my hair

I shaved my head

Red rashes burn

For tongues can heal

If it didn’t spit words.

Jaynagar 2001 – 2018

The masochism in our blood

Is high

As endless as despair is

Of doors leading to more

In adjustment for love

Or simple itches

Someone broke is hand

Unable to write

His shattered bones

Keeping him alive

For the last letter

Some cooked his skin

To get read of itches

Cooked skin has no feelings

For dead stay dead

In taste buds

Or in crusts

Of dry eyes

And I

Had veg noodles

And nuggets

Sitting on memories

Walking down the lanes

Of good days

Alone

As he left me

For rest of my paths

Of masochism

I think all those broken bones

Dead skins and love doesn’t exist

They all feel something

Somewhere

Like some rain

Washing off the grave

Of my brother.

Excuses

Anything will do

Fake news of religious riot

Heart ache from our high blood pressure

A storm coming from west coast,

About to shatter windows

The low batteries

One not working earphone

Three cups of earl gray

Five inches thick snow

Anything would do

Just ask me to not to go.