A World Without You

You left before the winter ended

The pen hadn’t finished the last couplet

Now I move among the shadows

Jokers laugh at the pathos.

The four beige walls with ears

Celebrate the lipstick mark and tears

Your stories I cannot frame

We won the war and lost the game.

Half a bottle of golden Scotch

Those moments of loss that you dodge

The broken flute has a last tune

The city without sleep now has no moon.

From a faraway land monsoon brings a song

You slip away and my prayers tag along

The altar is empty, my God went home

I say the last Hello to nobody over the phone.

Learning to Live with RA

All those steroids, immune-suppressants, HCQS and many such unpronounceable names of tabs and caps may be commonplace now, thanks to Covid-19, but I have known them since 2018.

After waking up almost daily with sore and stiff joints, I could, no longer, live in denial and visited an orthopaedic doctor and a couple of blood works later, I was diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis (RA), a rather common, degenerative, auto-immune disease characterised by chronic inflammation in the joints and eventual deformities. Note - Use of acronym is solely to ease pressure on finger joints!

 

Auto-immune disease? A condition where my immunity decided to target my body. Or in plain terms, my crack-head immunity cannot differentiate between an external threat like bacteria or virus and my body’s healthy cells. So, it goes on a self-destruction rampage. The icing on the cake? Its incurable and will last till I last. I hear your eyes pop!

So, what happens next? One can experience a myriad thing. Like learning creative ways to hold a spoon when the thumb doesn’t move, or a Charlie Chaplin-esque gait especially when one gets up to walk. In my case, I am trying to fine tune 101 ways to eat elegantly on the days when my jaws shut tight. Does it mean the British ‘stiff upper lips’ has its origin in RA?

The medicines mentioned in the opening line are part of allopathic treatment prescribed for this disease. They are nasty but unavoidable, especially if RA causes severe damages. For instance, recently when HB count in my blood dropped to 3, doctors pinned the blame on RA, the silent Jack the Ripper. I would like to imagine it to be a stealthy vampire (inspired by the gazillion movies and novels on suave, hot vampires) that lurks in the shadow until it gets that one moment to suck you dry. While an unsuspecting RA patient adjusts to living with gradual decline of joint mobility, the under currents of RA are rather strong to jolt the human body. Four units of blood later, I am wiser and a reluctant advocate of frequent, regular health check-ups.

 

Sugar, processed food, wheat, rice, starch, dairy, animal protein, several plant proteins will be my Achilles’ heel till I tread this planet. Most of the days I succumb to the temptation or I am a slave to quick survival hacks. Selecting the right lunch is like making my way through a labyrinth and most days I fail. Imagine eyeing a plateful of your love, favourites, or usuals with suspicion. The food, in return scorns me. Never will they be my best friend ever. Millions of my fellow RA survivors fight these mini battles every single day of their lives.

 

Now your friends want to climb mountains, you think twice before nodding. The season’s best marathon is in town, you rethink participation as your struggle to tie shoelaces enters day 7. Your boss sees the fire in you and approves an official tour to Ireland. At that moment all you can think of is what happens if I get late for trainings thanks to my struggle to strap the bra on time due to a frozen shoulder or fingers? Not the happiest moments of contemplation, right?

 

The fun doesn’t end there as a renowned rheumatologist explained. One auto-immune disease can invite more of its fellow brethren and in no time, it’s a riot. One day it’s the muscles, another day the bones and the next day the mind. Wait, what? The mind? Yes, my lovelies. One of the more sleek, auto-immune villains, Lupus, can trigger depression and other psychological disorders! Ask Selena Gomez, one of the many super celebrity Lupus patients!

 

I do not intend to scare you dear reader or generate sympathy for my present condition. What I hope is that there is enough awareness not to ignore the initial fatigue or the painful change of side in bed.

 

The next time I ask you to open the purse for me or unlock my door or seem too shy to look straight into your eyes, do not mistake it as a hint to take our relationship or friendship to the next level. It may just be one of ‘My hands Don’t Work’ or ‘Neck Sore and Stiff’ days.

 

 

P.S – Do not fret. Ayurveda, Homoeopathy and Allopathy have proven medication to control the disease.

I Lived

When death gently whispers into your ears and the feeling sends shivers down the spine, it is as if he wished you luck and sent you back to the much neglected, maligned lap of life, perhaps to let you cherish and bless this life with your dreams and desires. His voice reminds you how melodious is the sound of your heart and you wish fervently to get one last chance to listen to that beautiful voice and give a form to its wishes.

Death peeks from round the bend and your eyes shall jolt open to realise what is the most essential part of your existence. He re-introduces you to love and takes it to a whole new level of fulfillment. For one last time, you would want to look into those deep, chestnut-coloured eyes and sing a quiet song of eternal divinity.

We all get a lot many chances to redesign our lives. Near death experiences just add an extra nudge to take us from being "nearly alive" to rejoicing this short experience called LIFE. 

I am glad I lived to tell the tale yet another day....

Forgotten Pages

It rained the whole day. The dust was wiped away from the face of this ruthless city. Trees appear green, the earth seems appeased. Then what is the restlessness that arises within? it is like a gradually developing cyclone, sucking me into it. The lightening lit the evening sky and flashed across the memory space inside my head. Images and more images came hoarding the void, as if it was raining long forgotten excerpts from my life. 

I sat in one corner collecting these random moments and compiling them in a dusty file cover. "Did I have a good life till now?" No adequate reply comes to my mind. Twists and turns and straight highways, I have been on almost all terrains. The journey shall continue, show me the days, nights and twilights of various realms. I am a traveller, I am aware of that. Yet, a stopover is sought where the heart can get a good night's sleep. Else the quest is one.

Another such evening may come when this evening would be neatly folded and preserved between the yellow, tattered pages of an old, forgotten novel and my mind.

...........................................................................................................

Night as I Know It

Sleepless and dreaming. I dream of those who are burning the midnight oil, those who are attending calls to appease frantic queries from across the seas and shores, the souls who have to stay awake lest they miss the breaking news, the guardians of our safety and sovereignty who patrol relentlessly, the dwellers under the open sky who manage to grab sleep despite heavy vehicles zooming past their narrow pavements; that one mind which awakens to the quest of creative pursuits and pens down the last few lines of her book, the song writer who shall not rest before he fixes his broken song, those eyes behind the glasses aligning his designs to enhance his aesthetic masterpiece. 

The peace of sleep caresses the ones who are her favourite; they hum tender snores, their bodies at peace and preparing for the autumn morning to follow. 

I wander into the jungle, perhaps the wilderness has a different story to tell. Do the wild beasts sleep like us? I shall not know just now. But the mind spins its own fantastic tales, some of which I may use as bedtime stories for my young ones in the future (only if they would be fortunate enough to repose their faith in flights of fantasy and wonderland). 

The dark velvet texture of the night sky has left me spellbound each time my dreary, sleep-deprived eyes have braved to look upwards. The night has been the reason of zillion myths, beliefs, disbeliefs, secrets, conspiracies et al. Night is laden with infamy, it is equated with all that is ominous, it is painted in forbidden hues. Night sulks.

I take an unsure step to greet my night. It looks up, it smiles and it illuminates. Unlike the golden rays of the magnanimous Sun that blanket us in white light, here are the moody shades of the dark hours. It is subtle like the coy bride, translucent like the emotion of new lovers. Night is the poem of the unsung beings. 

She moves stealthily through our life each day and prefers to stay on the opposite shore. She covers our follies and gives us yet another chance to rejoin life. Night, well what more can I speak about you? When day decided to quit on me and nobody else thought it relevant to stand by my dreams, you walked up to me and gently soothed my agitated dilemma. You let me enjoy your emptiness, your silence and never judged me as I sat clueless and vague.

Life at night and that of night shall continue to intrigue me even and most often than not win the war against sleep. Today, is not her day though. Yet lovely lady, worry not. In many like me you have your steadfast lovers, your dogged companions.

.........................................................................................................

Tea Cup

The droplets create cacophony unbearable;

Disturbing the pensive quiet of her pain.

A moment ago the room was full of human odours;

Now the silence of absence just roars.

The chaos to bid adieu was sought to fill this gap awkward; 

The dirty tea cups decide never to let out the tales they overheard. 

The amber western sky paints the heart grey;

Existing outside and beyond them, to silence I have fallen prey.

We the Women

We girls live with an intense spirit that refuses to lie low for long. The docile woman behind the red veil smiles at me with the shine of stars in her eyes. The lone woman selling cigarettes at the traffic junction has a rather warm nod. The woman mason with a pile of bricks has the agility of a deer as she manouevers her way up the clumsy ladder. 

Nameless and fearless, she walks with me like my shadow. The lesser the light, the stronger she emerges. 

Let me stay inspired. Let me sing your songs. Let me share the colors of your life