deep into the abyss

​I have been falling again and again. There seems to be no end to it. I am picking up my shit together and making an effort to rise. But that is when my legs let go, making me sink in the delirious clay. I have been looking at the past few years of my life and the only thing which comes to my mind is – What have I been doing all this time?

It was real tough for me to turn back the pages of the meaningless chapters. It was tough when I saw my own reflection in the mirror. But I couldn’t recognize the monster staring right through me. Her eyes piercing through my soul and looking beneath it.

What little I have learnt from the years that built me is that I don’t have the time to show people how I feel. Because for one moment if I let that dam open, then floods of terrible emotions would gush out. Rapidly. Damaging everything. Emotions which were savaged beyond recognition long ago.

Its like walking the road at midnight and all you see are pale contours. Your own footsteps echoing at a distance. Fading. All you hear is the hum of hellhounds. You are reminded of the beast within you every time you tumble. You are reminded of your own self. A rag doll which can be shown lilac skies, which is damaged and beyond repair.

But I will also cut the skin of anyone who tries to touch me, ever. I will suppress my urge to leave burnt marks on whomever I touch.

And that’s when you know. You succumb to your own grief. Yes, this is grief and I have vehemently surrendered to it.


I ​stare at the lizard picking the corner of its mouth. The darkness has shrouded me but I can see crystal clear. The ceiling has lost its colour. The distemper paint is weathering off already. I fall into a rhythm. Switch on the bed lamp. Switch it off. On. Off. On. Off.

You are all alone, you piece of shit. Nobody here to help. This life belongs to you. You have such little time left. Didn’t listen when I told you that you would end up like this. Taste it, maggot. Taste it.

The thing is when you are illuminated you go back to your old ways. How can I tell you that I feel happy and depressed at the same moment? You have to honour and thank your senses for letting you live. Longer than you ever imagined. The bad is more but you feel what possible mistake would you make if you indulge in a little good? 

You can do whatever you see fit with your life. Its your decision to make. As I told you before, its an odyssey in which you can be your own mistress. You just need to have a bit of both patience and faith.

So you’re 17 now. Probably thinking how to go through your finals. Suicide feels a real possibility. You have thought about it numerous times. But  coward that you are. You can’t even empty a bottle of pills in one go. And every time you take out the scalpel from your biology box you feel sheepish. You stop midway between opening a vein and revert. You have no idea whether this would heal you or destroy you completely. Why not give it a try?

You are all alone, you piece of shit. What was your perception of life? All rainbows and flowers?

That’s it then. Sixteen years in this sublime place. I am so grateful for having a few people in my life and who listened to every bit of chit-chat I did. I wish I could tell you about all this. Each and every bit of thought caged in my dull mind. But words fail me. How can I point fingers when I am the one who’s responsible, where I am the one who’s fallen.

Taste it, maggot. You deserve it.

Picture : © The Chronicle

the other world

​Have you ever heard of the dark side?  Its a  place where you find shabby pages with secrets, age old proverbs scribbled on the lifeless walls. Madonnas depriving them of their natural beauty. Demons lurking inside. Waiting to pounce upon you.

Let me tell you. Its a place where love is defined as fine as fallacy. You will feel your bile rising in your throat. Its the place where each and everyone wants to be accepted. You feel real sick. The colour of your blood turning emerald with every turn of event.

It a place which harbours your bitterness. Your vicious beast kept at bay. Your treacherous, destructive self that you bred for so long.

You know this yourself. You are driven. But every time you look at yourself in the ill fated mirror, the ghost like face stares back at you with disgust. You are fucked up on too many levels. You are tired of the false assurances. That’s the time when the axioms which are never meant to rejuvenate, surface.

What now? What are you afraid of? Is it cleaving a vein that has made you a coward?

Don’t think for one second that it is the place where medication and solution based therapy shit is going to help you. Its not. 

You are going to pay for your abominable mess.

Picture : © Amartya Khan

– hope blooming –

Before late realization hits you hard, you will have all things sorted out.

You will enjoy your morning coffee everyday.

You will put on a new dress and hang out with your best friend with whom who have not met for ages.

You will pack your bags for a short trip in the country side.

You will chat with your neighbours in that park bench which you always noticed while coming back from work.

You will turn on the T.V. and watch crap telly, followed by Chinese takeout.

You will meet someone with whom you will share your ideologies which go on in your chaotic mind.

You will take out that leaflet from your purse and contact the NGO.

You will make yourself a cup of coffee and curl up on the sofa reading Jane Eyre.

You will wake up everyday with a thousand mega-watt smile.
You will find enjoying yourself.

You will find out the real you. 

– nights –

 I wake up with a jolt. Feel my pulse. No. Not feverish at all. I look at the clock. It says 3 :15 a.m. I can hear my own coarse breathing. I feel that my neck is covered in beads of sweat. I empty the bottle of water by my bed with two  and try hard to close my eyes. Next thing I know I see a little girl. She follows me wherever I go. She has wild, unruly and unkempt hair which falls in heaps across her face. She is staring at me intently. I can’t see her. She is like a silhouette. All I can see is her face. The rest of her body seems to be clad in darkness. All I can see is a face, devoid of body parts. Her stance changes and she lunges at me. I stand right there, paralyzed. I try to run but the earth underneath has engulfed my legs in. I am incapable of running from her. I am angry at myself at this observation that the girl standing right in front of me is a living manifestation inside me and she is tearing me apart. She is me. My own self. Sometimes she suffocates me, draining out what little life I have left inside me. Sometimes she just stands there. Watching. Waiting to pounce. 

She is a shade of own self and envelops me, depriving me of the colors of life. How wrong I was when I expected the moments of ordinary life filled with hues. But the truth was that it was filled with bitter charcoal. She is responsible for the vagueness. She holds on to me, against my will and whispers to me about the pleasures of  life.

I don’t have any solution as to how I can escape her. I cannot. She is my own self. Going through all the motions, she holds me with real physical force. I try, but with time comes exhaustion. And I lose the battle. I give in. The girl slowly converges into my body and finally I am at peace. I bid adieu to the madman inside me ages ago. Why try now, when you know the authenticity of it? Only then do I give in. The girl jars me with all her might. I drown gradually wishing for colourful skies, fairy lights, bloomed flowers and lanterns. But there’s no escaping. No. There’s no escape from this.