When parents age,
give them things
that help them
remember you.

-

Trauma is like waves.

They don't stop
Eventually you get a home
at the beachside.
You stay under the warmth and cold
of its roof and walls.

One sunny morning
you decide to see the world,
and there they are.
The waves.
That never stopped.

And there you are.
Inside the home.
Under the dark of its roof and walls.

-

It's repetitive. Love.

It starts one day-
we fall into a well,
thinking it clouds.
The falling makes us dizzy,
we still think it's a cloud.

When we wake up,
we see gashed knees.

— % &It's repetitive. Love.

We sit in the well,
thinking the darkness
is our new home.
Can't see light,
can't stand,
can't run.

We gain courage
to look above
and among the
brightest lights
we see a branch,
hanging there,
to rescue us. — % &It's repetitive. Love.

We hold it,
with afraid hearts-
What if we fall again?
What if the well becomes deeper?
What if we can't come back?
What if the knees break?

We still hold it,
it pulls us,
or we push us,
or both may be.

And there we are.
Ready to fall again. — % &

-

You asked me today,
whether I've written about my ex(es).
I told you that not all leave
enough memories to write about.

What I meant was,
not all leave me enough
to write.

-

If you fell in love
with the happy/ funny me,
you better leave.

'Cause definitely
my quirks won't last
nor will my smiles.

The only thing
that's love-worthy in me
is the whole of me-

97% water-like anxieties
and 3% sarcasm.

-

Stay away from depressing people. Not the depressed ones, the depressing ones.

-

I wait for the bad days to write something good. When the day comes, I realise how it doesn't let me be 'good enough' to write, at all.

-

You keep a cactus
on your desk
so that you don't have to
bear the duty of watering.

I still want to become
a warmth coloured marigold
in your wintry balcony.

I may survive, a day or two.
Or you may learn
how to be a father.

-

After 4 years of my pen name being "The moon admirer", I have finally changed it. There's no secret behind my first pen name. I just love the moon. But there's a thing behind changing my name now.

My mother has said many times that she wanted to name me Barkha. Well, it's a patriarchal family, you can guess the rest. Now, I can change my actual name as well, but why not make her beloved name get involved with my beloved thing- writing. So, here I am. Barkha.

-

Our oldies deserve a search option for meme. Where you can drop a meme and someone explains what does it mean. Then parents can laugh too.

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