Facelessness

I wanted to be without a face once.
I refused to put a veil on it
I disappeared
I was in love with being faceless
No one asked me to be faceless
I chose to be.
Now my face seems to be resurfacing
And yet I feel faceless
I think I want a new face
The tan on my face worked
For some-time it was new
Now it’s getting stale
I have been waiting to visit a parlour.
My larder is full of things
Things waiting to be used on my skin
I still want to visit a parlour
Because I will have to trust someone
Entrust them with a task even I can do
May be I can’t do it as well as them
And may be still, I don’t need it at all.
What I need is, to be able to trust again
Give the reins of what is mine to another
Not being overpowered
Just trusting, may be blindly.
What if there is a Sulphur reaction
May be I will warn them
But if they still decide to use some
I will be at stake;
May be that will give me a new face.
May be this face will make a difference.
I was never pretty; I believe.
I yet was me.
I still am me.
A-faceless me.
Looking- for-a-new-face me.

The Mirror Selfie

I looked into a mirror, the reflection was distorted
It was beyond recognition, my recognition atleast
I saw a person, she was sitting in my very chair
her hair were different, her eyes looked into mine.
I did not recognize the face i know, but the eyes
the eyes looked like they could have been mine
I looked deep within, I lost what I had seen
Something looked different, although the same
Dilated; the pupils looked into the distance,
I tried to follow their gaze, but i lost sight
The sight of the eyes atleast, the lost eyes.
They were neither happy nor were they sad.
They were searching but not yet mourning.
There had been losses for a long time now
And the mourn from the gaze had gone
The pity had long evaporated into nothing
Confidence long crushed underneath
Something I saw emerge,
I saw a picture of me taken 2 decades ago
I smiled for I did not know that girl
She was happy I could tell
Her smile was not reflected in mine.
I saw a picture of me taken 2 years ago
I smiled for i believed I looked pretty
The picture made me look pretty I believe
I was happy then too,
The smile was genuinely reflecting me.
But the reflection was extremely distorted
Distorted by memory and belief
The self I was looking at repeated
What I thought I was supposed to be.
As I whirled my chair round and round
Slowly disorienting from the reality
I caught a glimpse of a reflection in the mirror,
The reflection which was not supposed to be me
I saw a girl who was smiling broad,
As she looked upon her self,
The mirror still distorted though
Imaged me as myself.
It was not beyond recognition
Nor was she looking into the distance.
She slowly looked into my eyes,
This time truly they were mine.
She smiled that happy smile
The smile I recounted in pictures too.
And getting up from the chair,
She walked towards the mirror blue
As she came closer to the surface,
I could see through her more and more,
I saw her dissolve slowly before me.
As she became one with all the air.
All I could see now was a mirror
It had left me a canvas blank
For me to be any me, that I could dare.

A storm brew behind the closed doors,
the storm was never meant to go by
the storm was never meant to touch you
the storm was never meant to upturn.

It was a storm meant to take me instead
the storm which brew, was there to wash
the storm was there to cleanse and leave
the storm was never meant to kill any.

Neither of us were meant to die
Neither of us were meant to leave
Just sit under the roof outside the storm
And then see it slowly rise and fly by.

How did we come in touch with it
How did we even reach the door
How did we manage to pry it open
And let the storm not take its course.

The storm was maybe an accident
An accident I didn't ever foresee
An accident I wish to erase forever
and bolt the door to that heavy breeze.

We stand on either of the door shafts
Trying hard to close the door shut
Ever time it comes closer to reality
A single gust lets our efforts falter.

And then we are at it again, relentless.

The storm was never meant to upturn
The storm was there to cleanse and leave
The storm was never meant to touch you
And neither of us were meant to die.

If I were a pangolin

If I were a pangolin 

I would slowly curl up in my den.

My den would be with me

Wherever I decide to be.

Curling up would be much easy

And letting it in not compulsory.

My tail would swat those pests,

And I would be along a quest

With the Badger and the Bear

With whom I could truely share

The story of my many scales

And all those kicking around tales.

May I die?

May I die?
The heart wants to know
It is pining and pinning
and it is screaming.


Every scream falls
on my deaf years.
its lived a long life
and also a lie
it refuses to be
my confidant
It wants to walk
walk as it moves
away and away
to a place
far far way.


It reminds me
of all that it
has seen so long
for all that was
there and there not.
what it left behind.
and what
it had never had
of the love and pain
of the words
of all that worth.


for i have died
many ages ago
it says
it is you who
has to let me go.

Falling out of love

The fear of truth
Leaves behind a stance
A need for expression
Leaves its own mask
Speaking of one
Thinking of the other
Keeping aside the love
An expression of hate
Seeing the sparseness
And not the multitude
Seeking the hatred
And not the approval
The expression of
The self in the other.

Pinning him with you
Twisting her around
Showing that face
Which you have seen
The only one you see
Erasing all memory
Of the truth and nice
Hatred for the self
Blamed on the other
The need to hate:
The need to love
Borne without reason
Yet not of much
Writing in solitude
To those who see
The face i portray
The me behind the me.

When I am four,
I am stubborn and I want attention.
I am hidden and I need not mention.
I am looking for what is lost
I am craving for what was past.
I am missing the light of day,
and the time for all that play.
I am calling out to the then
Where I lived not in a den,
Hatched and allowed to grow
Bask in the sun and water flow.
I am looking for the love and care
For that sweet combing of the hair.
I am looking for the lasting smile,
Nights reading books by the pile.
I am remembering of when-
I was simple and I was sleek
I was not "Oh so meek..!"
I was younger and had a voice,
My decisions were by choice.
When I am four,
I forget all that I have lost,
I dont yearn for what was past.
I am standing in the light of day,
and I have all the time to play.
When I am four,
I look back and I know...
Things once lost are never found,
Destiny is not to which I am bound.
I am peeping out of the window such,
Wishing not to be, by myself as much.