It's Alright

I'm busy. You're busy.

I've pencilled in your name 

In my after hours serenade.

You've put me on your night clock.

The minutes expanding on every tock

Tick tock tiicckk tocckk tiiccckkkk tocccckkkk.

When's a good time to tell you?

You've pictured a drive through.

But I've planned, 

a sleep-in.

Was it ever going to work love?

This peaceful demonstration?

The way we indulge?

Divulge in textpectations.

(Hell, do you even know me?)

I swear it has gotten old

Round and round the same tree.

Honey. It's alright. 

Beds. Can be.

Empty.

Hello, Goodbye.

Closed eyes have meaning.

When you drop your lids
It adds truth to your baby blues.
And breaks a glass bottle
Somewhere in my inner things.

Sometimes,
You'll be right there next to me
And I won't feel you.
At all.

Your hands will be tied,
Your lips will be pursed in denial.

You'll start a word with your entirety
But gulp it down
Before it reaches your tongue.
And I'll have known
There's a story left to be longed.

You'll look away,
Smile, pour a drink, deny.
And I'll find the hand that you almost
Reached out.

I'll sit on your body
Catching a whisper of a sigh
An acceptance, maybe.
You're terrified!

And I'll kiss you.

Not goodbye but hello.
Lay on your chest like there's no point
to tomorrow.

Love, there's no point to tomorrow.

I Am Not Nirbhaya

May 23rd 2015, 2 am

I woke up in the humid heat. The electricity was gone but the night was breezy outside, a stormy wind was blowing through the windows. Why was I awake? 

There was a voice screaming through my sleepy haze. A woman. She was screaming at the top of her lungs and crying. Half asleep and lost in my mind, I tried hard to break through the daze and figure out what she was saying. "Ami jabona, ami jabona! I will not go, I will not go". My heart froze.

I started thinking, what could I do? Should I get up? Wake up my mother? The scream sounded like it was coming from one of the neighbouring buildings but I couldn't tell which one. Should I call someone? Police? What could they possibly do? What do I do? What do I do?

Then the screaming stopped. No sound. Everything in my being twisted. Had she stopped because the problem had been stopped? I tried to think of all possible neutral, positive scenarios, she's had a fight with her mother about going to school. She had a fight with her husband about moving homes. She's a spoilt brat not getting what she wants. I hoped she was alright. I hoped to God she was alive. 

But I couldn't for the life of me shake the horrible feeling that none of that was true. And I hoped to God, and all gods she may believe and pray to that she was alright. That she hadn't been maimed, violated, beaten to silence or killed. 

The guilt kept me awake. The guilt is still keeping me down. What could I have done? I wake up with cold sweats on mornings since Pohela Boishakh. I check my shadow when I walk on streets. I carry a knife. I am scared to ride public transport. I can't read yet another news about rape. I cannot make myself protest yet another act of violence. I'm not helpless then why do I feel so? Amra eto oshohaye keno? Amra eto oshohaye keno?

Holiday in Goa

I forget things so easily

Need reminders for self-love

Dependent on theory 

That they love me as much

As I should myself.

I forget.

Don't remember

The wine glass, Saki with his pour

Cool sheets, bloody mouths 

Your feet, our toes.

Chasing the dragon with bitterness in my throat.

I forget.

Remind me, dear one

Did I make any promises?

Did you? Did we?

Did we create funny messes?

Were there handcuffs? Burn marks?

Heartstrings? Whiplashes?

All I seem to remember are flashes.

Of strange things going on.

How high was that ceiling? Did we ever touchdown?

The morning has left me with memories of bruising.

And imprints of your fingers,

On more 

than my musings.