That girl

 I am that girl who dresses up in red even when her eyes are puffy from the long lost sleep,

a little eye shadow to smoke up the eyes, will definitely cover up the lines deep,

The heels kill my ankles but the pain doesn't bother anymore,

I have endured worse, this agony could not compare to the heaviness I carried within.

My folks are worried to see me happy when I need to sober down my drinks,

But hell I am celebrating my new found addiction, that would be me.

The festival is around and people are lighting up the houses, giving side looks to me,

they wonder if I would dare to be jovial and carefree as I always used to be,

I pulled up extra strings and lighted up the entire street to let them know I am still me,

I picked up the lanterns and the earthen lamps and lit up every corner including my fig tree.

Celebrating dad's birthday for the first time in his 65 years, making him feel like a child,

Seeing him smile on seeing me glowing, the only gestures he had were full of care,

he knew what I had been through and he could not ask for more than for me to be less wild,

But here I was popping up champagne and the party poppers, and the red velvet to share.

Change is good for it needs to be reflective of my insights, I need to worry less and love more,

I do care alot, as told by all the people I met in my life, but still it was never enough,

So I thought what is the point of self-introspecting to such deep instincts, what would it bore,

Let them be them and let me be me, as I was always the doting soul.

Finding self

I saw the snow clad Himalayas at 4 am from the rooftop,

The Sun was still behind them 

The shadow lingered before my eyes 

All I could see were the mighty mountains telling me to stop in life

Take a break and ponder upon

What is the rush?

I took a deep breath, swallowed my saliva, gulped it down my throat.

It was all green as far as my eyes could take me,

The birds were chirping in the dark meadows and the dogs were barking in vicinity,

At once I could see the women getting ready to go to the farms

Collect the fodder for the cattle and tying the loose ends of the huge baskets

that they carried upon their foreheads

The huge hand sickle held in their barren hands.

All I could see were the dark lines running through their foreheads

because of the cloth tied up in order to support the bamboo baskets.

The hardships they bear were beyond any words,

but the content in their simplicity was portrayed in their smile,

No matter if there was no milk, I would get a lemon tea at their door,

If there were no biscuits, they would feed me to home made delicacies,

if no electricity, there would be the light of the lanterns,

if no refrigerator, there would be the clay pots filled with chilled water,

if no television, there would be the old stereo-set of grandpa.

They found content and happiness in their small world.

And there I was searching for the purpose of my life,

While I roamed across those mountains, the waterfalls, the creeks, the rivers, the temples,

I found solace, peace and calmness in the water, in the greens, in the bells, in the mist.

I found myself.