Back in 2nd grade,
when grandma passed away,
you got me a set of Aesop's fables
and told me that it's okay
to escape the reality, at times.
But today, when once again
reality resurfaced it's horrid face,
the lands of Arabian Nights
refused to let me
through their gates.
And I couldn't help but wonder,
if getting shunned down
by everything you love,
a part of growing up.
Or, is it me who has somehow,
finally learnt how to fall out of love?

You used to come home
carrying my favorite ice cream
whenever I'd ruin a test.
You told me that failing a paper
does not mean that I'll be a failure
at everything else.
You made me believe that
things won't abandon me
if I be patient with them.
If I keep trying for them.
But, I wish you had told me
that at times, it's okay to give up too.
Because, entangled in this web
of dreams that shattered
and people who left,
I yearn to learn how to let go.

You chose a hostel room with
numerous windows in it
because you knew that
the confines of four walls
often end up making
me feel suffocated.
But, you forgot to tell me
how to breathe when
the windows themselves
try to smother me.
I wish you had told me
what to do, when it's not
the lack of space that's choking me,
but rather, the excess of it.

I wish you hadn't hoped
that I'd be special enough
for the universe to go easy on me.
I wish you had made me see
the world as it really is,
rather than the one
you keep asking for me
in your daily morning prayers.


©Srishti

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I hope you don't relate.
I'm sorry if you do.